“So, late on in the evening, about ten o’clock, I crept round to the back of William Foster’s house, and intended to have lifted the latch of the outer door softly, and placed the Bible on the window-sill inside. But just then I heard Kate’s voice. I could hardly believe my ears—yes—she was praying and crying; pouring out her heart to God with tears. Oh, I was cut to the very soul; and then it rushed into my mind, ‘Drop the Bible into the room,’ for I had seen that the casement was a little open. I felt pretty sure that her husband could not be in; indeed I satisfied myself that he was not in that room by cautiously peeping in. Kate’s head was bowed down over the cradle, so that I was not observed. So I drew the casement open a little further, and let the Bible fall inside. But in so doing, a ring for which I had a particular value slipped off my finger, and of course I could not recover it without making myself known.”
Here Thomas Bradly took a little box out of one of his drawers, and handed it to his visitor without a word.
“Yes,” she said, having opened the box, “this is the very ring; thank you very much for keeping it for me and now restoring it to me. I heard that it had got into your daughter’s hands, though I didn’t know how. I know I’ve done very wrong in telling stories about it and denying that it was mine; but I was afraid of getting myself and our house into trouble if I owned to it.”
“Good,” said Bradly, when she had finished her story; “the next best thing to not doing wrong is an honest confession that you’ve done it, and then you’re on the road to doing right. I see exactly how things has gone; and now, my poor friend, what can I do for you?”
“Why, Mr Bradly, two or three things. In the first place, you won’t mention what I’ve been telling you to the neighbours, I’m sure.”
“Yes, miss, you may be sure; gossiping ain’t in my line at all. But, after all, there’s nothing to fear so far as you’re concerned, for the Bible and the ring have both got to their rightful owners.”
“The Bible, Mr Bradly?”
“Yes; it’s been a blessed worker, has that little book. It belongs to my sister Jane. It were she as made them red-ink marks in it. Only this is to be a secret at present, if you please. And I’m persuaded as bag, and bracelet, and all ’ll turn up afore long, and then there’ll be no blame to nobody.—But what’s the next thing you want with me?”
“Why, I want to sign the pledge in your book; for, please God, I’ll never touch strong drink again.”
“Eh! The Lord be praised for this!” exclaimed Bradly; “you shall sign, with all the pleasure in life.—But do your parents give their consent?”