Infelice | Page 7

the fate of his
visitor, the minister had found himself unable to sleep as soundly as
usual, and from the troubled slumber into which he sank after daylight
he was aroused by the unwonted excitement that reigned in the hall,
upon which his apartment opened. While hastily dressing, his toilette
labours were expedited by an impatient rap which only Hannah's heavy
hand could have delivered. Wrapped in his dressing-gown he opened
the door, saying benignly:
"Is there an earthquake or a cyclone? You thunder as if my room were
Mount Celion. Is any one dead?"
"Some one ought to be! The house was broken open last night, and the

silver urn is missing. Shameless wretch! This comes of mysteries and
veiled women, who are too modest to, look an honest female in the face,
but----!"
"Oh, Hannah I that tongue of thine is more murderous than Cyrus'
scythed chariots! Here is your urn! I put it away last night, because I
saw from the newspapers that a quantity of plate had recently been
stolen. Poor Hannah! don't scowl so ferociously because I have spoiled
your little tragedy. I believe you are really sorry to see the dear old
thing safe in defiance of your prophecy."
Mrs. Lindsay came downstairs laughing heartily, and menacing irate
Hannah with the old-fashioned urn, which had supplied three
generations with tea.
"Is that the sole cause of the disturbance?" asked the master, stooping
to pat Biörn, who was dancing a tarantella on the good man's velvet
slippers.
Somewhat crestfallen the woman seized the urn, began to polish it with
her apron, and finally said sulkily:
"I beg pardon for raising a false alarm, but indeed it looked suspicious
and smelled of foul play, when I found the library window wide open,
two chairs upside down on the carpet,--mud on the window-sill, the
inkstand upset,--and no urn on the sideboard. But as usual I am only an
old fool, and you, sir, and Miss Elise know best I am very sorry I
roused you so early with my racket."
"Did you say the library window wide open? Impossible; I distinctly
recollect closing the blinds, and putting down the sash before I went to
bed. Elise, were you not with me at the time?"
"Yes, I am sure you secured it, just before bidding me goodnight."
"Well--no matter, facts are ugly, stubborn things. Now you two just see
for yourselves, what I found this morning."

Hannah hurried them into the library, where a fire had already been
kindled, and her statement was confirmed by the disarranged furniture,
and traces of mud on the window-sill and carpet. The inkstand had
rolled almost to the hearth, scattering its contents en route, and as he
glanced at his desk the minister turned pale.
The secret drawer which opened with a spring had been pulled out to its
utmost extent, and he saw that the tin box he had so carefully locked
the previous night was missing. Some MSS were scattered loosely in
the drawer, and the purse filled with gold coins, a handsomely set
miniature, and heavy watch chain with seal attached, all lay untouched,
though conspicuously alluring to the cupidity of burglars. Bending over
his rifled sanctuary, Mr. Hargrove sighed, and a grieved look settled on
his countenance.
"Peyton, do you miss anything?"
"Only a box of papers."
"Were they valuable?"
"Pecuniarily no;--at least not convertible into money. In other respects,
very important."
"Not your beautiful sermons, I hope," cried his sister, throwing one arm
around his neck, and leaning down to examine the remaining contents
of the drawer.
"They were more valuable, Elise, than many sermons, and some cannot
be replaced."
"But how could the burglars have overlooked the money and
jewellery?"
Again the minister sighed heavily, and, closing the drawer, said:
"Perhaps we may discover some trace in the garden."
"Aye, sir,--I searched before I raised an uproar, and here is a

handkerchief that I found under that window, on the violet bed. It was
frozen fast to the leaves."
Hannah held it up between the tips of her fingers, as if fearful of
contamination, and eyed it with an expression of loathing. Mr.
Hargrove took it to the light and examined it, while an unwonted frown
wrinkled his usually placid brow. It was a dainty square of finest
cambric, bordered with a wreath of embroidered lilies, and in one
corner exceedingly embellished "O O" stared like wide wondering eyes,
at the strange hands that profaned it.
"Do you notice what a curious, outlandish smell it has? It struck my
nostrils sharper than hartshorn when I picked it up. No rum-drinking,
tobacco-smoking burglar in breeches dropped that lace rag."
Hannah set her stout arms akimbo, and looked "unutterable things" at
the delicate fabric, that as if to deprecate its captors