The picture was large, and the frame was massive and heavy. Lady Waterville, looking on with a resigned air, expressed her conviction that nothing but a pair of broken heads would be the result of this freak. But I, leaning on the back of her chair, and anxiously watching the movements of my husband and the butler, felt no fears about the end.
No sooner had I entered the dim room, and lifted my eyes to the portrait, than I recalled a strange dream of mine. I had dreamed it when I dozed over my darning by Ronald's bedside. And once more in fancy, I saw the flash of the glittering jewels on my neck, and believed that very soon I should see them with my bodily sight.
That dream had come to me while I was sitting by the bedroom fire, and wondering, with a perturbed heart, how my husband and I were to face the coming days. If it was to be realised to-night, I was thankful that its fulfilment had been delayed. The time of our tribulation is needed to prepare us for the time of our wealth; and it often fares ill with those who are made suddenly rich without having first felt the chastening hand of sorrow.
Slowly and carefully the two men lifted the picture from the strong supports that kept it in its place; and then I left Lady Waterville, and went to my husband's side.
Where the picture had hung, the oaken wall was veiled with dust, and I, with a steady hand, began to clear those dusty panels with my handkerchief.
"The girl is crazed," said Lady Waterville from her chair. "Why can't somebody bring a cloth?"
But we could not wait for a cloth to be brought. As I wiped the dust away, Ronald held one of the candles near the wall, and presently an exclamation broke involuntarily from us both. We had found a red spot on one of the panels.
Then I pressed my two hands hard upon the panel, and it yielded to my efforts with a slight creaking sound. Cox drew nearer and held up the other candle.
The light shone only a little way into the darkness of the cavity; but, without an instant's hesitation, I thrust my hand and arm into the hollow place.
When I drew it forth again, the hand was black with the dust of years, and I was grasping a stout, leather-covered box, about the size of a small desk. The box had brass handles, and it was by one of these handles that I had dragged it out of the hole where it had lain for nearly half a lifetime.