“I feel no interest in the matter,” replied Mr. Gritton; “I wish that, instead of hunting up cases outside the house, you would manage to keep a little better order within it.”
Lottie rose from her knees after her search, and timidly placed the weigher on the mantel-piece. She had recovered all the weights belonging to it but one, the smallest of the set, and that, in the dim light thrown by the solitary candle on the table, she had not been able to find. Lottie was nervously afraid lest her master should examine the small machine and find it imperfect.
“I will hunt for the little round thing in the morning, when no one is watching me,” thought Lottie, “and I’ll never rest then till I find it.” The letter-weigher was the only elegant article which Gaspar’s study contained; it had been a birth-day gift from his sister, and had particularly attracted the admiration of Lottie, who, in her simplicity, had taken the gilded ornament for gold. The loss of the little weight was to the young maid a sensible addition to her heavier troubles.
“If I can’t find that little gold bit, what on earth shall I do?” thought Lottie, with the fear before her mind of having to replace an article of value unknown; “I dare say that it is worth half a sovereign, and master may say that the whole thing is spoiled by its loss. How shall I ever pay for it out of my wages, and just at a time when I would do anything to win more money for father? I’ll get up early, so early to-morrow, and search every cranny in that room before any one else is about in the house.”
Lottie Stone could hardly sleep that night from the many anxious thoughts which haunted her brain. She arose before dawn to hunt for the weight, crept out of her little chamber, and softly descended the stairs to the study. She opened the shutters, but the stars were glimmering yet in the deep blue sky, there was not sufficient light for her need. Lottie lighted a candle and began her search, under the table, the chairs, the fender, in every likely and unlikely place she hunted, but “the little gold bit” was not to be found.
“I’ll move the table right to the wall, and pull up the drugget, maybe it has rolled under there,” said Lottie to herself, exerting all her strength to move the deal table, with Gaspar’s heavy desk upon it, to the other side of the room.
To draw up the drugget was an easier task, and scarcely had it been removed when, stuck between two of the boards which had been covered by the cloth, Lottie to her great relief caught sight of the bright little weight.
She ran up to the spot, and tried to pick up the weight, but a foot had trodden on it and pressed it in firmly. Lottie pulled harder, and to her extreme surprise found that in moving the weight she also moved one of the planks between which it was jammed, while a previously imperceptible line crossed the breadth of three of them. Accident had discovered to Lottie a most carefully concealed trap-door in the floor, in the spot which was usually covered both by the drugget and the table. With some little trouble Lottie managed to raise it, and with wondering curiosity she peered down, still on her knees, into the dark vault below, into which there was a means of descent by a ladder. Stories that had been current in the hamlet then recurred to the mind of Lottie, stories of the caution and mystery used in the building of Wildwaste Lodge. She had never heard that there were cellars beneath it, and a concealed trap-door would be a strange kind of opening into one intended to contain only wine. As Lottie bent over the dark recess, candle in hand, the little gilded weight which she had recovered slipped from her hold, and fell down into the vault below. It was needful again to search for it, and perhaps the young girl was not sorry for an excuse to explore a little further. Slowly and softly Lottie descended the ladder, carrying the candle in her hand. When she had reached the bottom, she found herself in a brick-built vault; the air felt damp and chill, moisture stains gleamed faintly on the walls. On the further side was a door, close to which the little weight had rolled. Lottie went and picked it up, and then pressed her hand against the door; it was not locked, but slightly ajar, and yielded to her pressure. Lottie could not resist the temptation of entering the inner vault. It had brick walls and floor like the first, but was not, like the first, perfectly empty. There were low shelves, on which was ranged all the family plate which Mr. Gritton had inherited from his father, silver candlesticks, salvers, and tureens, with curious old coins in cases, all looking dull and tarnished. There were also yellow canvas bags ranged in order. Lottie put down her candle, and, by a strong impulse of curiosity, raised one: it was very heavy in proportion to its size; she loosened the string round the mouth and glanced in—it was full of golden sovereigns! The black eyes of Lottie dilated—she could scarcely breathe—the hand which held the canvas bag trembled. The foolish young daughter of Eve had by her indiscreet curiosity put herself into a position of sore temptation, she had given the Enemy an advantage; he who had dared to breathe his deadly whisper in Eden, was present to tempt in that dark deep vault.
“What a world of wealth is buried here, wealth useless to its owner, useless to all the world! A few yellow pieces from one of those canvas bags would never be missed, while they would bring help to a long-lost father, bring him back to his home, fill the heart of a mother with delight.” Nay, even the impious suggestion followed: “This discovery has not been made by chance. Providence has guided you here to give you the means of helping your parents in the time of their greatest need.”