“Of course he did,” said Mr. Cabot. “That beauty was given him for the delectation of other mortals. To conceal it behind a book would be opposing the will of his Creator.”
“Poor Amos,” said Mr. Fettiplace with a smile, as he slowly shook his head. “His beauty is his curse. He regards it as a blight, is ashamed of it, and would give a good deal to look like other people. Everybody wonders who he is and where he came from. As for the women, they simply cannot keep their eyes away from him.”
“If I were a woman,” said Mr. Cabot, in a slow, judicial manner, “I should throw my arms about his neck and insist upon remaining there.”
Mr. Fettiplace chuckled, not only at the solemnity of his friend’s face during the delivery of the speech, but at the contemptuous silence with which this and similar utterances were received by the daughter. There had always been a gentler and more lovable side to James Cabot, and he was glad to see that success and honors had not destroyed the mental friskiness and love of nonsense that had been an irresistible charm in former years. He was also glad to witness the affection and perfect understanding between father and daughter. It was evident that from long experience she was always able to sift the wheat from the chaff, and was never deceived or unnecessarily shocked by anything he might choose to say.
“Well, he will be here soon,” said Mr. Fettiplace, “but as you are only a man, you may have to content yourself with sitting in his lap.”
“Is Mr. Judd coming here this evening?” inquired Molly, in a tone that betrayed an absence of pleasure at the news.
Her father looked over in mild surprise. “Yes, did I forget to tell you? I asked him to dine, but he had another engagement. He is to drop in later. And, by the way, Sam, where did the young man get that face? No line of Connecticut farmers bequeathed such an inheritance.”
“No, they did not. Judd’s little mystery has never been cleared up. I can only repeat the common knowledge of Daleford, that the boy was brought to this country when he was about six years old, and that a few handfuls of diamonds and rubies came with him. The value of this treasure has been exaggerated, probably, but with all allowances made it must have amounted to more than a million dollars.”
“Why!” exclaimed Molly. “It’s quite like a fairy tale!”
“Yes, and the mystery is still agoing. Josiah Judd, in whose hands he was placed, happened to be the only person who knew the boy’s history, and he died without telling it. Who the child was or why he was sent here no one knows and no one seems likely to discover. Josiah died about twelve years ago, and ever since that time stray clusters of emeralds, pearls, and diamonds have been turning up in unexpected places about the house. Some are hidden away in secretary drawers, others folded in bits of paper behind books. They have tumbled from the pockets of Josiah’s old clothes, and a few years ago his widow discovered in one of his ancient slippers an envelope containing something that felt like seeds. On the outside was written ‘Amos’s things.’ She tore it open and found a dozen or more magnificent rubies, rubies such as one never sees in this country. They were sold for over two hundred thousand dollars.”