*****

They were married a year later; but there is no record that in after
years of conjugal relations with a weak, charming, but sometimes trying
woman, Henry Brooks was ever tempted to tell her the whole truth of the
robbery of Heavy Tree Hill.




THE MERMAID OF LIGHTHOUSE POINT


Some forty years ago, on the northern coast of California, near the
Golden Gate, stood a lighthouse. Of a primitive class, since superseded
by a building more in keeping with the growing magnitude of the adjacent
port, it attracted little attention from the desolate shore, and, it was
alleged, still less from the desolate sea beyond. A gray structure of
timber, stone, and glass, it was buffeted and harried by the constant
trade winds, baked by the unclouded six months' sun, lost for a few
hours in the afternoon sea-fog, and laughed over by circling guillemots
from the Farallones. It was kept by a recluse--a preoccupied man of
scientific tastes, who, in shameless contrast to his fellow immigrants,
had applied to the government for this scarcely lucrative position as a
means of securing the seclusion he valued more than gold. Some believed
that he was the victim of an early disappointment in love--a view
charitably taken by those who also believed that the government would
not have appointed "a crank" to a position of responsibility. Howbeit,
he fulfilled his duties, and, with the assistance of an Indian, even
cultivated a small patch of ground beside the lighthouse. His isolation