"This is beautiful workmanship, Mr. Morpeth. I am specially interested because I have a box rather like it which I greatly admired, and still do, though I can see now the great superiority of yours. My husband presented me with mine when we were engaged to be married. Of course, he believed it to be the finest ivory, so his disappointment was great when an expert, to whom he was showing it lately, pronounced it to be only bone! I assured Alfred I thought it was just as beautiful as before, but he's never been able to look on it with favour since. I confess I can see, on examining yours, the difference between the true and the false."
"Yes, I can vouch for this one," replied Mr. Morpeth, "that it is at least genuine, for I gave the man the bit of ivory out of which it is carved. It's years ago now. The man was a poor worker who had lost both his legs, but his hands stood him in good stead. He was the most perfect ivory-carver I've ever seen. He was a bit of a genius in other ways too. His designs were often original. If you examine this box closely you will see there is a whole history carved on its top and sides. He became a Christian and loved gospel themes, and these are some scenes from the life of Our Lord. See, here He sits with Mary at His feet listening to His words, and there He is walking on the sea. Aren't those billows wonderful—carved out of such a hard material as ivory?"
But now Mrs. Fellowes remarked that though they had only made a beginning in their examination of his treasures, they must really set out for home, or the Colonel would begin to get anxious about them. She turned to Mark to try to persuade him to give them some hours before he left for Puranapore on the following day, but he said he must return in the early morning as some matters were requiring his attention at the Revenue Office, and that the Collector and he were to start on tour the day following.
Mrs. Fellowes and her guest said good-bye, and were already seated in the victoria when Mr. Morpeth came round to the side of the carriage at which Hester sat, and laid a little parcel in her hand.
"It's only the ivory box! Will you accept it as a little memento of your first visit to a lonely old man? Let this replace the false one. Use it freely—keep your mother's letters in it. I got the secret of restoring stained ivory from the carver, and I'll share it with you when the little box needs a cleaning."
"Oh, but really I cannot deprive you of this priceless treasure," cried Hester, with a genuinely troubled air. "No, it must not go from your keeping!"
"If it goes to yours it will please me more than you can guess," returned Mr. Morpeth, his pathetic grey eyes pleading more than his words.
"Then I shall keep the little box with its beautiful carved histories as my best treasure as long as I live," said Hester, her eyes glistening with tears as she clasped the packet in both hands and looked into the donor's face.
The two gentlemen stood bareheaded in the sunset glow to watch them drive off, the turbaned Mootoo behind them, framed by the graceful festooning creepers of the verandah, while the parrot called from its perch: "Come back soon, master lonely!"
"Very pat for once, Polly," said Mr. Morpeth with a smile, as he scratched the bird's neck; while Mark stood with folded arms and earnest eyes watching the disappearing carriage.