"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."