"Haven't you got a warm-looking comfortable to throw over that?" he said to Mrs. Pegrim, who was standing in the doorway, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the bed without looking at it. When, after a few minutes of kneeling on the hearth and coaxing with the bellows, the ruddy glow of the fire had penetrated all the ghostly nooks, Gilbert got up and looked about with a sigh of satisfaction, letting his eyes rest upon the white bed for the first time.
Asking Satira to watch the fire until the sparks from the kindlings had subsided, he lit a lantern and made his way slowly to the little workshop back of the post-office, and seating himself before his desk, drew out the shabby ledger in which was written the record of the years since Poppea's coming. Below the record of the previous day he drew a heavy line. Then writing December twenty-eighth, across the entire page, he traced under it, writing painfully and making three strokes to every letter,—"This day has the Lord taken the pen from my hand to put it into hers. In three days comes a New Year. Amen." From a panel beneath the drawer, that flew open when he touched the spring, he drew the miniature and its slender chain, wrapped in a piece of chamois leather.
It was several years since he had looked at it; yes, he was almost sure that the young woman must be of Poppea's blood, if not her mother, for the likeness between the two was now more than mere fancy. Dropping it into his pocket, he returned to Poppea's bedroom, where he fastened the miniature against the frilled pincushion on top of the high chest of drawers, and lighting the candles in the two straight glass holders that had been Miss Emmy's Christmas gift, set one on either side of it, then laid the precious book upon her work-table by the window, and crept back to the kitchen, where Mack was whining uneasily as though he missed some one, and scratching at the door to be let out.
Elisha Potts took the lead as the three men started on their slippery walk from Quality Hill down through the main street of the village. As they reached the Rectory, Mrs. Latimer flitted out to ask for news. When they came abreast of the church, her husband, who had a veiled idea that he had left the lamp burning, glanced up at the chancel window only to be reassured that all was dark within.
Brief as the stop was, Hugh Oldys, who had half turned toward the flagged pathway, saw something fluttering from one of the shrubs; raising his lantern he recognized it as a fraying of Poppea's scarf.
"She has passed this way," he cried, "and since the snow has stopped, for the worsted is quite dry, while the bush is crusted!" but lowering the lantern to the pavement, the footprints there shown were confused and told nothing, as Mrs. Latimer had gone in alone and come out with her husband.
"Have you the keys, Mr. Latimer? We must look here, though of course she may have merely stumbled into the bushes and gone on."
"I have them in my pocket, but I was in the church alone until half-past seven and heard no one."
"Most likely not, if you was a-playin' the organ," said 'Lisha, "for you kin make her beller powerful disconcertin', Parson. Lemme have them keys."