Part 49

"Have you forgotten, Mr. Yankton?" she asked calmly, her face turning a delicate crimson.

"Then read--read!" he cried in desperation, scarcely able to control himself. She knew it could not last much longer. She slowly unfolded the large sheets of paper and began to read their contents in the moonlight.

"Aloud, please," he said.

"Why aloud?"

"Oh, just as you please!"

"Very well, if you wish it. 'Dear Dick,' she began with a slight hesitancy. 'When this reaches you I shall have passed over the border to that unknown range from whence nobody ever returns. Enclosed you will find the record of Don Felipe Ramirez's and Pepita Delaguerra's marriage which, at Don Felipe's instigation, I stole from the register in the church at Onava, giving him a copy of the same which he destroyed, believing it to be the original. I did this with the intention of extorting money from him later on. I and Joaquin Flores and his wife were the only witnesses to the marriage. But there is a sequel. Pepita gave birth to a child, a girl, after Felipe deserted her. I learned later that Chiquita and the two Flores concealed it somewhere in one of the Indian pueblos near La Jara, as they feared Don Felipe would make way with the child should he learn of its existence.'

"How strange!" exclaimed Bessie excitedly. "Why, that was Don Felipe's own child which he introduced this evening and said was Chiquita's."

"Exactly," said Dick, quietly.

"But I don't see what all this has to do with me," she added.

"Proceed, please," he answered. "That's not the only surprise his letter contains."

Glancing down at the sheets once more she resumed:

"'You will also be greatly surprised to learn that the young lady who was present on the day you saved my life and whose name I asked, is my sister.'

"The insinuation is infamous!" she cried, letting the papers fall to the ground.

"Miss Van Ashton," he interrupted, calmly stooping and picking up the papers and handing them to her again, "you forget--you are reading the confession of a dying man."

"His sister!" she continued indignantly. "It can't be possible--I never had a brother!"

"Please proceed, Miss Van Ashton," he replied. Amazed and bewildered, Bessie excitedly resumed the reading of the strange letter.

"'My sister never knew me because I left home shortly after she was born; but, notwithstanding, I recognized her the instant I set eyes on her, not only owing to the presence of my father that day, but to the remarkable resemblance she bears to my mother. She is the living image of her.'" Bessie paused, overcome with agitation.

"How very remarkable," she said, as if to herself. "Every one who knew my mother says we resemble one another very closely in manner as well as in looks. My father always keeps our photographs placed side by side on his desk at home. Except for the difference in the style of dress, it is almost impossible to tell which is which. What he says does sound true," she admitted. "Yet--"

"There can be no doubt of it," broke in Dick. Again Bessie looked down at the papers and resumed:

"'Before I breathe my last, Dick, I want to tell you that I have discovered the lead to the old Esmeralda mine; the enclosed chart will guide you to it. Tell my sister that half of it belongs to her and the other half to Pepita's child if you are able to find her. Perhaps this one and only generous act of my selfish life will atone somewhat for my many misdeeds. Good-by, Dick, and God bless you.'"

"You needn't read that!" he interrupted. But without heeding him, she continued:

"'You are the best and bravest fellow alive. Good-by, Dick, again, for the last time.

"'Harry Van Ashton, better known to the world as Bob Carlton, gambler and--'" The letter ended abruptly. A sob broke from Bessie. Two bright tears glistened like jewels in the moonlight on her long lashes and then stole silently down her cheeks.

"Don't take it so hard, Miss Van Ashton," he said. "Your brother was wild, but not so bad as the world thought him."

"My poor brother!" she murmured.

"I am sure," he resumed after a little, "that when your brother looked into your eyes that day, his manhood reasserted itself; that he repented and threw off his past life like an old garment, and from that moment, stood prepared to enter the presence of his Maker."

"You are very good to say that," she answered, looking up at him with shining eyes.

"No, it's not good of me at all," he returned. "I love you too much to say anything but what I know to be true." She did not reply, but remained lost in thought, her eyes cast on the ground.