"Four thousand dollars," the auctioneer spoke slowly and impressively now. "Any--advance--on four thousand dollars? Going at four thousand dollars--Once--twice--third--and----last call----, and sold to Parson Westmore for four thousand dollars."
As these words fell from the speaker's lips a deep sigh broke the tense feeling of the little company. They had been stirred more than was their wont by the scene that they had just witnessed. These men knew but little of the rise and fall of ancient kingdoms, the strife of modern nations, the deeds of statesmen, and the affairs of the financial world. And yet in the sale of this farm in an obscure country place the secret springs of life, even though on a small scale, were laid bare. The pathos of a happy home on the verge of destruction, with a loving mother and an invalid child in danger of being cast out upon the cold world, and to see this tragedy so narrowly averted through one staunch champion successfully beating back pride and greed as represented in the person of Silas Farrington--truly it was a miniature of the world's history, which may be found in every town, village or home.
"I trust you understand the conditions of the sale, sir," and the auctioneer looked curiously at the clergyman, who was standing somewhat by himself. "One-third of the amount down, and the balance in half-yearly payments. I only mention this in case you may not know it."
"I understand perfectly well," was the reply. "The whole amount shall be paid at once, and the matter settled without delay."
"Guess the ministry must be a payin' job," sneered Farrington, "when a poor country parson kin fork out four thousand dollars at one slap. I see now why ye're allus dunnin' us fer money. Mebbe ye've got a hot sermon all ready on the subject fer us next Sunday."
Mr. Westmore looked intently at the man for an instant, and his lips parted as if to reply. Instead, however, he turned without a word and moved slowly towards the house.
He reached Nora's side, and took her outstretched hand in his. Tears of joy were in her eyes as she lifted them to her Rector's face, and endeavoured to find adequate words in which to express her gratitude.
"I know we are safe now!" she said. "But we never thought of you buying the place! I cannot understand it at all. Four thousand dollars! What a lot of money!"
"No, my child, you cannot understand it now, but you will some day," and as Mr. Westmore turned his face towards the window a tear might have been detected stealing slowly down his furrowed cheek.