when she lay beside him on the floor. He was only a dog, but his sympathy was reassuring to the wretched man, who looked up, and with a faint smile, said to his daughter:
"Rover forgives and pities me. I will take it as a token that God will do so, too; and now we must finish our work."
As if endued with superhuman strength, Hannah helped her father carry the body to the grave he had dug, and there they buried it, while her tears fell like rain, and her father's lips moved with the words:
"Forgive, forgive; I did not mean to kill him."
Everything belonging to the peddler was buried with him, except a leathern bag in which was the gold he had counted in the evening, and a small tin box fastened by a padlock, the key of which was found in his pocket, and his silver watch, which Hannah laid aside with a thought of the sister Elizabeth, whom he had mentioned with so much affection, and who, he said, was to be his heir. The money and the watch belonged to her and must be kept sacredly until the day when Hannah could safely give them to her, as she fully meant to do. For the rest there was nothing of any value, and they buried it with him, and filled the grave, or rather the father filled it, while Hannah held the light, and Rover looked on curiously.
Then, when all was done, when the floor was nailed down securely, the bed moved back to its place, the blood-stains washed from the kitchen floor, and there was nothing left to indicate the awful tragedy which had been enacted there, the father and daughter sat down with Rover lying between them, and talked as to how they would face it.
CHAPTER XIII.
FACING IT.
On the table beside them lay the watch, the leathern bag, and the box which had belonged to the deceased. In the bag there were several hundred dollars in twenty, ten, and five dollar gold pieces, and in the box, which Hannah unlocked, there were some papers, and tied together with a faded ribbon was a lock of dark brown hair, a bit of purple heather, a few English violets, and some leaves of ivy; while on the paper in which they were wrapped was the date of a summer day, many, many years ago, when the dead man was young. Whatever might have been the romance of which this souvenir was the sign, it was buried forever with the past, and Hannah put it back in the box as carefully and tenderly as if it were the hand of the woman on whose head that brown tress once grew.
The next thing which met the view was a picture painted on ivory of a young girl who might have been sixteen or eighteen years of age, and whose face was so beautiful that Hannah uttered an exclamation of surprise as she held it to the light and examined it closely.
The dress was old-fashioned, and such as would indicate that the wearer belonged to the middle, rather than the wealthy class, but Hannah did not think of that, so absorbed was she in the beauty of the fresh, young face, and the expression of the large blue eyes, which seemed to look at her so intently. The dark brown tress, so carefully wrapped in paper, and bearing the scent of English violets and heather blossoms could never have grown on this girl's head, for the wavy hair which fell in such masses upon her neck was of that peculiar shade of gold, dashed with red, seldom seen in America, and which latterly has become so fashionable, that where nature fails to produce it, art has been called into requisition, and achieved most wonderful success.
"Oh, how lovely she is," Hannah said, showing the picture to her father. "This must be his sister, the Elizabeth he was so fond of. He said once she was many year's younger than himself, and very beautiful. I do not wonder he loved her."
The bundle of papers was next examined, and found to contain a few receipts for moneys paid in England and America, and the will of the deceased, executed some months before, and in which he gave everything he possessed to his beloved and only sister, Elizabeth, her heirs and assigns forever.
"Father!" Hannah said, with a trembling voice, as she finished reading aloud this will, "I am sure that this is his sister's picture, and we have a duty to do. We must find Elizabeth Rogers, and put her in possession of her own, this gold in the box, and whatever else he may have owned in Wales. He spoke of shares in some mines or quarries. These all belong to his sister, and we must not defraud her; those blue eyes would haunt me forever. What shall we do?"
She was looking earnestly at her father, over whose face there came a sudden pallor, and a hard, bitter expression, as he answered her:
"Find her! Of course! Advertise! go to Wales, if necessary, in search of her, or get a lawyer to do it! Break your vow; tell the whole truth, as you would have to, in order to establish his death; and get me hanged! That would be the result of restitution."
"Oh, father," Hannah cried in terror. "Is there no other way? If I find this woman and give her her own, must I tell her the whole truth? Will it not be enough if I say he is dead, that I saw him die, that I helped to lay him in his coffin? I would not mention you, or that I had a father. Surely she would be satisfied."
"Yes, she might, but not the law. I do not understand the ins and outs myself, there are so many questions necessary to make a thing legal, but this I am sure of; the whole thing would be ripped up, and I hanged, as I told you. No, Hannah, you cannot find this woman while I live, which, please God, may not be long. When I am gone, find her, if you like, but you must shield me. Remember your vow, and—and—swear again, not to move in the matter while I live."
He was growing so excited with this new fear that his daughter shrank from him in alarm, and at last yielding to his importunities took another oath of secrecy, which doomed the blue-eyed woman in Wales to a life of poverty, if such now were her portion.
"But what shall we do with this money?" Hannah asked.
And her father replied:
"Keep it until you can restore it to its rightful owner without harm to me. Elizabeth may never get it, but her heirs, some child yet unborn, may be made rich by you, one day, who knows?"
Yes, some child then unborn might one day be richer for this crime, but that did not comfort Hannah, now, and the future held no gleam of hope or happiness for her, as she put the papers, and the watch, and the gold, and the portrait, together in the tin box, and tried to think where she could hide them.
Owing to the storm, and the depth of the snow, no one visited the lonely farm-house until the Monday following the tragedy, when a neighbor came breaking through the drifts to see how it fared with Peter, who tried to appear natural as he talked of the depth of the snow, and inquired for the news, and mentally anathematized the dog Rover, who, the moment the stranger appeared, stretched himself before the bedroom door with a keen, watchful look in his eyes, as if he were on the alert and guarding the terrible secret.
And this habit, commenced that morning, was continued by the faithful creature up to the day of his death, which happened several years later. No matter where he was, whether chasing a rabbit through the woods or sleeping by the stable door, he seemed by some instinct to know when a visitor arrived, and hastened at once to his post, from which neither threats nor persuasions could dislodge him. For Hannah tried both, but when she coaxed he whined and whisked his big tail on the floor, and when she threatened he growled and showed his teeth, but staid there just the same.
The Monday night following the tragedy, Hannah was stricken down with a low, nervous fever, which lasted for weeks, and from which she arose
