"'Richard, I was afraid you had gone down as so many disappointed young men go when their ambitious hopes fail; but I am so glad, so proud to see in your face that you still work and wait, like a brave and honest man. I must speak to you!'
"What could I do after that but hold the white hand fast in both my grimy ones, while I told my little story, and the hope that had come at last. Heaven knows I told it very badly, for those tender eyes were upon me all the time, so full of unspoken love and pity, admiration and respect, that I felt like one in a glorified dream, and forgot I was a coal-heaver.
"That was the last of it, though, and the next time I came to see my Kate it was with clean hands, that carried her, as a first love-token, the little tale which was the foundation-stone of this happy home."
He stopped there, and his face brightened beautifully, for the sound of little feet approached, and childish voices cried eagerly,—
"Papa! papa! the snow has come! May we go and shovel off the steps?"
"Yes, my lads, and mind you do it well; for some day you may have to earn your breakfast," answered Dick, as three fine boys came prancing in, full of delight at the first snow-fall.
"These fellows have a passion for shovelling which they inherit from their father," he added, with a twinkle of the eye that told Mrs. Kate what we had been talking about.
It was sweet to see with what tender pride she took the hand he stretched out to her, and holding it in both her own, said, with her eyes upon her boys,—
"I hope they will inherit not only their father's respect for honest work, but the genius that can see and paint truth and beauty in the humble things of this world."