"They are explanations and comments, written here on the margin—see?—with a fine pen."
"His grandpaw done that thar. What be they about, anyhow?"
"They are very old poems written long before this country was discovered."
"An' that must 'a' been before the Revolution. His grandpaw fit in that. The' is somethin' more in thar. I kept hit hid, fer Farwell, he war bound to melt hit up fer silver bullets. He 'lowed them bullets war plumb sure to kill. Reckon you can find hit? Thar 'tis." Her eyes shone as Thryng drew out another object also wrapped in gingham. "Hit's a teapot, I guess, but Farwell, he got a-hold of hit an' melted off the spout to make his silvah bullets. That time I hid all in the box an' put on the bolt an' lock whilst he war away 'stillin'. The' is one bullet left, but I reckon Frale has hit."
David took it from her hand and turned it about. "Surely! This is a treasure. Here is a coat of arms—but it is so worn I can't make out the emblem. Was this your husband's also? Is there anything else?"
"That's all. Yes, they war hisn. I war plumb mad at Farwell. I nevah could get ovah what he done, all so't he mount sure kill somebody. Likely he meant them bullets fer the revenue officers, should they come up with him."
"It would have been a great pity if he had destroyed this mark. I think—I'm not sure—but if it's what I imagine, it is from an old family in Wales."
"I reckon you're right, fer they were Welsh—his paw's folks way back. He used to say the' wa'n't no name older'n hisn since the Bible. I told him 'twar time he got a new one if 'twere that old, but he said he reckoned a name war like whiskey—hit needed a right smart o' age to make hit worth anything."
Thryng laid the antique silver pot on the bed beside the old mother's hand and again took up the small volumes. As he held them, a thought flashed through his mind, yet hardly a thought,—it was more of an illumination,—like a vista suddenly opened through what had seemed an impenetrable, impalpable wall, beyond which lay a joy yet to be, but before unseen. In that instant of time, a vision appeared to him of what life might bring, glorified by a tender light as of red fire seen through a sweet, blue, obscuring mist, and making thus a halo about the one figure of the vision outlined against it, clear and fine.
"'Pears like you find somethin' right interestin' in that book; be you readin' hit?"