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"And I will charge myself to watch over Petronella," said Philip, stepping forward out of the shadow. "I will be a protector a brother to her whilst thou art away. She shall not feel too heavily her harsh father's rule. Amongst us we will find a way to ease her of a part of that burden."
He, therefore, took unto himself his wife Petronella, and began to save money; but continued to all outward appearance as poor and miserable as before. In the course of a few years, he became desperately addicted to the study of alchymy, and thought of nothing but the philosopher's stone, the elixir of life, and the universal alkahest.
Of old, Petronella had always been so gentle, so meek and yielding, that to hear such an outburst from her startled him not a little. "What is hard, sweet sister?" "To be the daughter of of such a father as ours," she answered, lowering her voice and speaking with infinite sadness now. "Heaven knows I have striven to love him, have striven to obey him, have striven to be all a daughter should!"
Petronella pointed to the circular slab lying wet and sparkling in the moonlight upon the sward beside the well. "Look there!" she said: "it is that that has helped to hide the secret so long. Robin is cunning. He is deep, he is full of artifice. He has given to the well a false bottom, of which perchance none knows but himself.
"There are women to-day," said the Admiral, "who are preaching a woman's right to propose." Petronella gazed at him, thoughtfully. "I could preach a doctrine like that but I couldn't practice it. It's easy enough to say to some other woman, 'Ask him, but it's different when you are the woman." "Yet if he asked you," suggested the Admiral, "the world might say that he wanted your money."
There was little effusion of blood, but death was delayed only a few minutes. Even as Cuthbert looked at him, the man gave a deep groan. His eyelids flickered a few moments, and then his jaw dropped, a quiver passed through his frame, which then became absolutely still. Cuthbert shook his head. "He is dead!" cried Petronella, in a voice of compunction and awe "he is dead; and I have killed him!"
"Yes, it was lone, save for the comradeship of our cousins. But that was better, far better, than what followed." Cuthbert looked quickly at her, and his eyes darkened. "And what did follow, Petronella?" She bent her head a little, that he might not see the expression of her face. Her words were falteringly spoken.
Petronella turned away from the blank scene with a little shudder. Thus had Justin Hare shut her out of his life. He had talked of his mother in Maine, of his hospital plans for the winter, but not a word had he said of those moonlight nights when he had masterfully swayed her by the force of his own passion, had wooed her, won her. And now there was nothing that she could do.
<b>TORO, PETRONELLA.</b> A painter of miniatures on ivory which have attained distinction. Among those best known are the portraits of the Prince of Carignano, Duke Amadeo, and the Duchess d'Aosta with the sons of the Prince of Carignano. She has painted a young woman in an antique dress and another in a modern costume. Her works are distinguished by firmness of touch and great intelligence.
The secret of the lost treasure, he was fully certain, was now his; and though the work of rescue might require time and patience and labour, he was convinced it could be accomplished, and that he, with the help of his sister, should find himself competent for the task. It was evening before he returned, but he found Petronella where he had left her.
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