Chapter 3 - Page 2

kindled as
he looked, and with a quick gesture he turned as if toward the light, in
truth to hide the flash of triumph that passed across his face.
Carefully controlling his voice, he answered in a moment, as he looked
up, quite composed, "Yes, my lady, I can retouch the faded colors on
these margins and darken the pale ink of the Old English text. I like
the work, and will gladly do it if you like."

"Do it, then, but be very careful of the book while in your hands.
Provide what is needful, and name your own price for the work," said his
mistress.

"Nay, my lady, I am already paid--"

"How so?" she asked, surprised.

Paul had spoken hastily, and for an instant looked embarrassed, but
answered with a sudden flush on his dark cheeks, "You have been kind to
me, and I am glad to show my, gratitude in any way, my lady."

"Let that pass, my boy. Do this little service for me and we will see
about the recompense afterward." And with a smile Lady Trevlyn left him
to begin his work.

The moment the door closed behind her a total change passed over Paul.
He shook his clenched hand after her with a gesture of menace, then
tossed up the old book and caught it with an exclamation of delight, as
he reopened it at the worn page and reread the inexplicable verse.

"Another proof, another proof! The work goes bravely on, Father Cosmo;
and boy as I am, I'll keep my word in spite of everything," he muttered.

"What is that you'll keep, lad?" said a voice behind him.

"I'll keep my word to my lady, and do my best to restore this book, Mrs.
Hester," he answered, quickly recovering himself.

"Ah, that's the last book poor Master read. I hid it away, but my lady
found it in spite of me," said Hester, with a doleful sigh.

"Did he die suddenly, then?" asked the boy.

"Dear heart, yes; I found him dying in this room with the ink scarce dry
on the letter he left for my lady. A mysterious business and a sad one."

"Tell me about it. I like sad stories, and I already feel as if I
belonged to the family, a loyal retainer as in the old times. While you
dust the books and I rub the mold off this old cover, tell me the tale,
please, Mrs. Hester."

She shook her head, but yielded to the persuasive look and tone of the
boy, telling the story more fully than she intended, for she loved
talking and had come to regard Paul as her own, almost.

"And the letter? What was in it?" asked the boy, as she paused at the
catastrophe.

"No one ever knew but my lady."

"She destroyed it, then?"

"I thought