"I shouldn't ha' minded the money," Farmer Hartley was saying, even now, "if I'd ha' been savin' it jest to spend or lay by. I shouldn't ha' minded, though 'twould ha' hurt jest the same to hev Simon's son take it,—my brother Simon's son, as I allus stood by. But it's hard to let the farm go. I tell ye, Marm Lucy, it's terrible hard!" and he bowed his head upon his hands in a dejection which made his wife weep anew and wring8 her hands.
"But they will not take the farm from you, Farmer Hartley!" cried Hilda, aghast. "They cannot do that, can they? Why, it was your father's, and your grandfather's before him."
"And his father's afore him!" said the farmer, looking up with a sad smile on his kindly9 face. "But that don't make no difference, ye see, Hildy. Lawyer Clinch10 is a hard man, a terrible hard man; and he's always wanted this farm. It's the best piece o' land in the hull11 township, an' he wants it for a market farm."
"But why did you mortgage it to him?" cried Hilda.
"I didn't, my gal12; I didn't!" said the farmer, sadly. "He'd kep' watch over it ever sence Simon began to get into trouble,—reckon he knew pooty well how things would come out; an' bimeby Jason Doble, as held the mortgage, he up an' died, an' then Lawyer Clinch stepped in an' told the 'xecutors how Jason owed him a big debt, but he didn't want to do nothin' onfriendly, so he'd take the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and call it square. Th' executors was kind o' fool people, both on 'em—I d'no' what possessed13 Jason Doble to choose them for 'xecutors, when he might ha' hed the pick o' the State lunatic asylum14 an' got some fools as knew something; but so 'twas, an' I s'pose so 'twas meant to be. They giv' it to him, an' thanked him for takin' it; and he's waited an' waited, hopin' to ketch me in a tight place,—an' now he's done it. An' that's about all there is to it!" added Farmer Hartley, rising and pushing back his massive gray hair. "An' I sha'n't mend it by sittin' an' mowlin' over it. Thar's all Simon's work to be done, an' my own too. Huldy, my gal!" he held out his honest brown hand to Hildegarde, who clasped it affectionately in both of hers, "ye'll stay by Marm Lucy and chirk her up a bit. 'T'll be a hard day for her, an' she hasn't no gal of her own now to do for her. But ye've grown to be almost a daughter to us, Huldy. God bless ye, child!"
His voice faltered15 as he laid his other hand for a moment on the girl's fair head; then, turning hastily away, he took up his battered16 straw hat and went slowly out of the house, an older man, it might have been by ten years, than he had been the night before.
Right daughterly did Hilda show herself that day, and Faith herself could hardly have been more tender and helpful. Feeling intuitively that work was the best balm for a sore heart, she begged for Nurse Lucy's help and advice in one and another item of household routine. Then she bethought her of the churning, and felt that if this thing was to befall, it could not have better befallen than on a Tuesday, when the great blue churn stood ready in the dairy, and the cream lay thick and yellow in the shining pans.
"Well, that's a fact!" sighed Nurse Lucy. "If I hadn't forgotten my butter in all this trouble! And it must be made, sorrow or smiles, as the old saying is. Come with me, Hilda dear, if you will. Your face is the only bright thing I can see this sad day."
"EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK."
"EACH TOOK A SKIMMER AND SET EARNESTLY TO WORK."
So they went together into the cool dairy, where the light came in dimly through the screen of clematis that covered the window; Hilda bared her round white arms, and Nurse Lucy pinned back her calico sleeves from a pair that were still shapely, though brown, and each took a skimmer and set earnestly to work. The process of skimming cream is in itself a soothing17, not to say an absorbing one. To push the thick, yellow ripples18, piling themselves upon the skimmer, across the pan; to see it drop, like melted ivory, into the cream-bowl; to pursue floating cream islands round and round the pale and mimic19 sea,—who can do this long, and not be comforted in some small degree, even in the midst of heavy sorrow? Also there is joy and a never-failing sense of achievement when the butter first splashes in the churn. So Nurse Lucy took heart, and churned and pressed and moulded her butter; and though some tears fell into it, it was none the worse for that.
But as she stamped each ball with the familiar stamp, showing an impossible cow with four lame20 legs—"How many more times," said the good woman, "shall I use this stamp; and what kind of butter will they make who come after me?" and her tears flowed again. "Lawyer Clinch keeps a hired girl, and I never saw real good butter made by a hired girl. They haven't the feeling for it; and there's feeling in butter-making as much as in anything else."
But here Hilda interposed, and gently hinted that there ought now to be "feeling" about getting the farmer's dinner. "We must have the things he likes best," she said; "for it will be hard enough to make him eat anything. I will make that apple-pudding that he likes so much; and there is the fowl21 for the pie, you know, Nurse Lucy."
The little maid was away on a vacation, so there was plenty of work to be done. Dinner-time came and went; and it was not till she had seen Dame22 Hartley safe established on her bed (for tears and trouble had brought on a sick headache), and tucked her up under the red quilt, with a bottle of hot water at her and a bowl of cracked ice by her side,—it was not till she had done this, and sung one or two of the soothing songs that the good woman loved, that Hilda had a moment to herself. She ran out to say a parting word to the farmer, who was just starting for the village in the forlorn hope, which in his heart he knew to be vain, of getting an extension of time from Lawyer Clinch while search was being made for the wretched Simon.
When old Nancy had trotted23 away down the lane, Hilda went back and sat down in the porch, very tired and sad at heart. It seemed so hard, so hard that she could do nothing to save her friends from the threatening ruin. She thought of her father, with a momentary24 flash of hope that made her spring from her seat with a half articulate cry of joy; but the hope faded as she remembered that he had probably just started for the Yosemite Valley, and that there was no knowing when or where a despatch25 would reach him. She sighed, and sank back on the bench with a hopeless feeling. Presently she bethought her of her little dog, whom she had not seen all day. Jock had grown very dear to her heart, and was usually her inseparable companion, except when she was busy with household tasks, to which he had an extreme aversion. A mistress, in Jock's opinion, was a person who fed one, and took one to walk, and patted one, and who was in return to be loved desperately26, and obeyed in reason. But sweeping27, and knocking brooms against one's legs, and paying no attention to one's invitations to play or go for a walk, were manifest derelictions from a mistress's duty; accordingly, when Hilda was occupied in the house, Jock always sat in the back porch, with his back turned to the kitchen door, and his tail cocked very high, while one ear listened eagerly for the sound of Hilda's footsteps, and the other was thrown negligently28 forward, to convey the impression that he did not really care, but only waited to oblige her. And the moment the door opened, and she appeared with her hat on, oh, the rapture29! the shrieks30 and squeaks32 and leaps of joy, the wrigglings of body and frantic33 waggings of tail that ensued!
So this morning, what with all the trouble, and with her knowledge of his views, Hildegarde had not thought to wonder where Jock was. But now it struck her that she had exchanged no greeting with him since last night; that she had heard no little impatient barks, no flapping of tail against the door by way of reminder34. Where could the little fellow be? She walked round the house, calling and whistling softly. She visited the barn and the cow-shed and all the haunts where her favorite was wont35 to linger; but no Jock was to be seen. "Perhaps he has gone over to see Will," she thought, with a feeling of relief. Indeed, this was very possible, as the two dogs were very brotherly, and frequently exchanged visits, sometimes acting36 as letter-carriers for their two mistresses, Pink and Hilda. If Jock was at Pink's house, he would be well cared for, and Bubble would—but here Hildegarde started, as a new perplexity arose. Where was Bubble? They had actually forgotten the boy in the confusion and trouble of the day. He had not certainly come to the house, as he invariably did; and the farmer had not spoken of him when he came in at noon. Perhaps Pink was ill, Hilda thought, with fresh alarm. If it should be so, Bubble could not leave her, for Mrs. Chirk was nursing a sick woman two or three miles away, and there were no other neighbors nearer than the farm. "Oh, my Pink!" cried Hilda; "and I cannot go to you at once, for Nurse Lucy must not be left alone in her trouble. I must wait, wait patiently till Farmer Hartley comes back."
Patiently she tried to wait. She stole up to her room, and taking up one of her best-beloved books, "The Household of Sir Thomas More," lost herself for a while in the noble sorrows of Margaret Roper. But even this could not hold her long in her restless frame of mind, so she went downstairs again, and out into the soft, golden September air, and fell to pacing up and down the gravel38 walk before the house like a slender, white-robed sentinel. Presently there was a rustling39 in the bushes, then a hasty, joyful40 bark, and a little dog sprang forward and greeted Hildegarde with every demonstration41 of affection. "Jock! my own dear little Jock!" she cried, stooping down to caress42 her favorite. But as she did so she saw that it was not Jock, but Will, Pink's dog, which was bounding and leaping about her. Much puzzled, she nevertheless patted the little fellow and shook paws with him, and told him she was glad to see him. "But where is your brother?" she cried. "Oh! Willy dog, where is Jock, and where is Bubble? Bubble, Will! speak!" Will "spoke37" as well as he could, giving a short bark at each repetition of the well-known name. Then he jumped up on Hilda, and threw back his head with a peculiar43 action which at once attracted her attention. She took him up in her arms, and lo! there was a piece of paper, folded and pinned securely to his collar. Hastily setting the dog down, she opened the note and read as follows:—
Miss Hildy,
Simon Hartley he come here early this mornin and he says to me I was diggin potaters for dinner and he come and leaned on the fence and says he I've fixed44 your city gal up fine he says and I says what yer mean I mean what I says he says I've fixed her up fine. She thinks a heap of that dorg I know that ain't spelled right but it's the way he said it don't she says he I reckon says I Well says he you tell her to look for him in the pit of the old mill says he. And then he larf LAUGHED I was bound I'd get it Miss Hildy I don't see why they spell a thing g and say it f and went away. And I run after him to make him tell me what he d been up to and climbin over the wall I ketched my foot on a stone and the stone come down on my foot and me with it and I didn't know anything till Simon had gone and my foot swoll up so s I couldn't walk and I wouldnt a minded its hurtin Miss Hildy but it s like there wornt no bones in it Pink says I sprante it bad and I started to go over to the Farm on all fours to tell ye but I didn't know anythin g agin and Pink made me come back. We couldnt nether45 on us get hold of Will but now we got him I hope he l go straite, Miss Hildy Pink wanted to write this for me but I druther write myself you aint punk tuated it she says. She can punk tuate it herself better n I can I an ti cip ate I says. From
Zerubbabel Chirk
P.S. I wisht I could get him out for ye Miss Hildy.
If Bubble's letter was funny, Hilda had no heart to see the fun. Her tears flowed fast as she realized the fate of her pretty little pet and playfellow. The vindictive46 wretch, too cowardly to face her again, had taken his revenge upon the harmless little dog. All day long poor Jock had been in that fearful place! He was still only a puppy, and she knew he could not possibly get out if he had really been thrown into the pit of the great wheel. But—and she gave a cry of pain as the thought struck her—perhaps it was only his lifeless body that was lying there. Perhaps the ruffian had killed him, and thrown him down there afterwards. She started up and paced the walk hurriedly, trying to think what she had best do. Her first impulse was to fly at once to the glen; but that was impossible, as she must not, she felt, leave Dame Hartley. No one was near: they were quite alone. Again she said, "I must wait; I must wait till Farmer Hartley comes home." But the waiting was harder now than it had been before. She could do nothing but pace up and down, up and down, like a caged panther, stopping every few minutes to throw back her head and listen for the longed-for sound,—the sound of approaching wheels.
Softly the shadows fell as the sun went down. The purple twilight47 deepened, and the stars lighted their silver lamps, while all the soft night noises began to make themselves heard as the voices of day died away. But Hilda had ears for only one sound. At length, out of the silence (or was it out of her own fancy?) she seemed to hear a faint, clicking noise. She listened intently: yes, there it was again. There was no mistaking the click of old Nancy's hoofs48, and with it was a dim suggestion of a rattle49, a jingle50. Yes, beyond a doubt, the farmer was coming. Hildegarde flew into the house, and met Dame Hartley just coming down the stairs. "The farmer is coming," she said, hastily; "he is almost here. I am going to find Jock. I shall be back—" and she was gone before the astonished Dame could ask her a question.
Through the kitchen and out of the back porch sped the girl, only stopping to catch up a small lantern which hung on a nail, and to put some matches in her pocket. Little Will followed her, barking hopefully, and together the two ran swiftly through the barn-yard and past the cow-shed, and took the path which led to the old mill. The way was so familiar now to Hilda that she could have traversed it blindfold51; and this was well for her, for in the dense52 shade of the beech-plantation it was now pitch dark. The feathery branches brushed her face and caught the tendrils of her hair with their slender fingers. There was something ghostly in their touch. Hilda was not generally timid, but her nerves had been strung to a high pitch all day, and she had no longer full control of them. She shivered, and bending her head low, called to the dog and hurried on.
Out from among the trees now, into the dim starlit glade53; down the pine-strewn path, with the noise of falling water from out the beechwood at the right, and the ruined mill looming54 black before her. Now came the three broken steps. Yes, so far she had no need of the lantern. Round the corner, stepping carefully over the half-buried mill-stone. Groping her way, her hand touched the stone wall; but she drew it back hastily, so damp and cold the stones were. Darker and darker here; she must light the lantern before she ventured down the long flight of steps. The match spurted55, and now the tiny yellow flame sprang up and shed a faint light on the immediate56 space around her. It only made the outer darkness seem more intense. But no matter, she could see two steps in front of her; and holding the lantern steadily57 before her, she stepped carefully down and down, until she stood on the firm greensward of the glen. Ah! how different everything was now from its usual aspect. The green and gold were turned into black upon black. The laughing, dimpling, sun-kissed water was now a black, gloomy pool, beyond which the fall shimmered58 white like a water-spirit (Undine,—or was it Kühleborn, the malignant59 and vengeful sprite?). The firs stood tall and gaunt, closing like a spectral60 guard about the ruined mill, and pointing their long, dark fingers in silent menace at the intruder upon their evening repose61. Hildegarde shivered again, and held her lantern tighter, remembering how Bubble had said that the glen was "a tormentin' spooky place after dark." She looked fearfully about her as a low wind rustled62 the branches. They bent63 towards her as if to clutch her; an angry whisper seemed to pass from one to the other; and an utterly64 unreasoning terror fell upon the girl. She stood for a moment as if paralyzed with fear, when suddenly the little dog gave a sharp yelp65, and leaped up on her impatiently. The sound startled her into new terror; but in a moment the revulsion came, and she almost laughed aloud. Here was she, a great girl, almost a woman, cowering66 and shivering, while a tiny puppy, who had hardly any brains at all, was eager to go on. She patted the dog, and "taking herself by both ears," as she expressed it afterwards, walked steadily forward, pushed aside the dense tangle67 of vines and bushes, and stooped down to enter the black hole which led into the vault68 of the mill.
A rush of cold air met her, and beat against her face like a black wing that brushed it. It had a mouldy smell. Holding up the lantern, Hildegarde crept as best she could through the narrow opening. A gruesome place it was in which she found herself. Grim enough by daylight, it was now doubly so; for the blackness seemed like something tangible69, some shapeless monster which was gathering70 itself together, and shrinking back, inch by inch, as the little spark of light moved forward. The gaunt beams, the jagged bits of iron, bent and twisted into fantastic shapes, stretched and thrust themselves from every side, and again the girl fancied them fleshless arms reaching out to clutch her. But hark! was that a sound,—a faint sound from the farthest and darkest corner, where the great wheel raised its toothed and broken round from the dismal71 pit?
"Jock! my little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, "are you there?"
A feeble sound, the very ghost of a tiny bark, answered her, and a faint scratching was heard. In an instant all fear left Hilda, and she sprang forward, holding the lantern high above her head, and calling out words of encouragement and cheer. "Courage, Jock! Cheer up, little man! Missis is here; Missis will save you! Speak to him, Will! tell him you are here."
"Wow!" said Will, manfully, scuttling72 about in the darkness. "Wa-ow!" replied a pitiful squeak31 from the depths of the wheel-pit. Hilda reached the edge of the pit and looked down. In one corner was a little white bundle, which moved feebly, and wagged a piteous tail, and squeaked73 with faint rapture. Evidently the little creature was exhausted74, perhaps badly injured. How should she reach him? She threw the ray of light—oh! how dim it was, and how heavy and close the darkness pressed!—on the side of the pit, and saw that it was a rough and jagged wall, with stones projecting at intervals75. A moment's survey satisfied her. Setting the lantern carefully at a little distance, and bidding Will "charge" and be still, she began the descent, feeling the way carefully with her feet, and grasping the rough stones firmly with her hands. Down! down! while the huge wheel towered over her, and grinned with all its rusty76 teeth to see so strange a sight. At last her feet touched the soft earth; another instant, and she had Jock in her arms, and was fondling and caressing77 him, and saying all sorts of foolish things to him in her delight. But a cry of pain from the poor puppy, even in the midst of his frantic though feeble demonstrations78 of joy, told her that all was not right; and she found that one little leg hung limp, and was evidently broken. How should she ever get him up? For a moment she stood bewildered; and then an idea came to her, which she has always maintained was the only really clever one she ever had. In her pre-occupation of mind she had forgotten all day to take off the brown holland apron79 which she had worn at her work in the morning, and it was the touch of this apron which brought her inspiration. Quick as a flash she had it off, and tied round her neck, pinned up at both ends to form a bag. Then she stooped again to pick up Jock, whom she had laid carefully down while she arranged the apron. As she did so, the feeble ray from the lantern fell on a space where the ground had been scratched up, evidently by the puppy's paws; and in that space something shone with a dull glitter. Hildegarde bent lower, and found what seemed to be a small brass80 handle, half covered with earth. She dug the earth away with her hands, and pulled and tugged81 at the handle for some time without success; but at length the sullen82 soil yielded, and she staggered back against the wheel with a small metal box in her hands. No time now to examine the prize, be it what it might. Into the apron bag it went, and on top of it went the puppy, yelping83 dismally84. Then slowly, carefully, clinging with hands and feet for life and limb, Hilda reascended the wall. Oh, but it was hard work! Her hands were already very sore, and the heavy bundle hung back from her neck and half choked her. Moreover the puppy was uncomfortable, and yelped85 piteously, and struggled in his bonds, while the sharp corner of the iron box pressed painfully against the back of her neck. The jutting86 stones were far apart, and several times it seemed as if she could not possibly reach the next one. But the royal blood was fully1 up. Queen Hildegarde set her teeth, and grasped the stones as if her slender hands were nerved with steel. At last! at last she felt the edge; and the next moment had dragged herself painfully over it, and stood once more on solid ground. She drew a long breath, and hastily untying87 the apron from her neck, took poor Jock tenderly in one arm, while with the other she carried the lantern and the iron box. Will was jumping frantically88 about, and trying to reach his brother puppy, who responded with squeaks of joy to his enraptured89 greeting.
"Down, Will!" said Hilda, decidedly. "Down, sir! Lie still, Jocky! we shall be at home soon now. Patience, little dog!" And Jock tried hard to be patient; though it was not pleasant to be squeezed into a ball while his mistress crawled out of the hole, which she did with some difficulty, laden90 with her triple burden.
However, they were out at last, and speeding back towards the farm as fast as eager feet could carry them. Little thought had Hilda now of spectral trees or ghostly gloom. Joyfully91 she hurried back, up the long steps, along the glade, through the beach-plantation; only laughing now when the feathery fingers brushed her face, and hugging Jock so tight that he squeaked again. Now she saw the lights twinkling in the farm-house, and quickening her pace, she fairly ran through lane and barnyard, and finally burst into the kitchen, breathless and exhausted, but radiant. The farmer and his wife, who were sitting with disturbed and anxious looks, rose hastily as she entered.
"Oh, Hilda, dear!" cried Dame Hartley, "we have been terribly frightened about you. Jacob has been searching—But, good gracious, child!" she added, breaking off hastily, "where have you been, and what have you been doing to get yourself into such a state!"
Well might the good woman exclaim, while the farmer gazed in silent astonishment92. The girl's dress was torn and draggled, and covered with great spots and splashes of black. Her face was streaked93 with dirt, her fair hair hanging loose upon her shoulders. Could this be Hilda, the dainty, the spotless? But her eyes shone like stars, and her face, though very pale, wore a look of triumphant94 delight.
"I have found him!" she said, simply. "My little Jock! Simon threw him into the wheel-pit of the old mill, and I went to get him out. His leg is broken, but I know you can set it, Nurse Lucy. Don't look so frightened," she added, smiling, seeing that the farmer and his wife were fairly pale with horror; "it was not so very bad, after all." And in as few words as might be, she told the story of Bubble's note and of her strange expedition.
"My child! my child!" cried Dame Hartley, putting her arms round the girl, and weeping as she did so. "How could you do such a fearful thing? Think, if your foot had slipped you might be lying there now yourself, in that dreadful place!" and she shuddered95, putting back the tangle of fair hair with trembling fingers.
"Ah, but you see, my foot didn't slip, Nurse Lucy!" replied Hilda, gayly. "I wouldn't let it slip! And here I am safe and sound, so it's really absurd for you to be frightened now, my dear!"
"Why in the name of the airthly didn't ye wait till I kem home, and let me go down for ye?" demanded the farmer, who was secretly delighted with the exploit, though he tried to look very grave.
"Oh! I—I never thought of it!" said Hildegarde. "My only thought was to get down there as quickly as possible. So I waited till I heard you coming, for I didn't want to leave Nurse Lucy alone; and then—I went! And I will not be scolded," she added quickly, "for I think I have made a great discovery." She held one hand behind her as she spoke, and her eyes sparkled as she fixed them on the farmer. "Dear Farmer Hartley," she said, "is it true, as Bubble told me, that your father used to go down often into the vault of the old mill?"
"Why, yes, he did, frequent!" said the farmer, wondering. "'Twas a fancy of his, pokin' about thar. But what—"
"Wait a moment!" cried Hilda, trembling with excitement. "Wait a moment! Think a little, dear Farmer Hartley! Did you not tell me that when he was dying, your father said something about digging? Try to remember just what he said!"
The farmer ran his hand through his shaggy locks with a bewildered look. "What on airth are ye drivin' at, Hildy?" he said. "Father? why, he didn't say nothin' at the last, 'cept about them crazy di'monds he was allus jawin' about. 'Di'monds' says he. And then he says 'Dig!' an' fell back on the piller, an' that was all."
"Yes!" cried Hilda. "And you never did dig, did you? But now somebody has been digging. Little Jock began, and I finished; and we have found—we have found—" She broke off suddenly, and drawing her hand from behind her back, held up the iron box. "Take it!" she cried, thrusting it into the astonished farmer's hands, and falling on her knees beside his chair. "Take it and open it! I think—oh! I am sure—that you will not lose the farm after all. Open it quickly, please!"
Now much agitated96 in spite of himself, Farmer Hartley bent himself to the task of opening the box. For some minutes it resisted stubbornly, and even when the lock was broken, the lid clung firmly, and the rusted97 hinges refused to perform their office. But at length they yielded, and slowly, unwillingly98, the box opened. Hilda's breath came short and quick, and she clasped her hands unconsciously as she bent forward to look into the mysterious casket. What did she see?
At first nothing but a handkerchief,—a yellow silk handkerchief, of curious pattern, carefully folded into a small square and fitting nicely inside the box. That was all; but Farmer Hartley's voice trembled as he said, in a husky whisper, "Father's hankcher!" and it was with a shaking hand that he lifted the folds of silk. One look—and he fell back in his chair, while Hildegarde quietly sat down on the floor and cried. For the diamonds were there! Big diamonds and little diamonds,—some rough and dull, others flashing out sparks of light, as if they shone the brighter for their long imprisonment99; some tinged100 with yellow or blue, some with the clear white radiance which is seen in nothing else save a dewdrop when the morning sun first strikes upon it. There they lay,—a handful of stones, a little heap of shining crystals; but enough to pay off the mortgage on Hartley's Glen and leave the farmer a rich man for life.
Dame Hartley was the first to rouse herself from the silent amaze into which they had fallen. "Well, well!" she said, wiping her eyes, "the ways of Providence101 are mysterious. To think of it, after all these years! Why, Jacob! Come, my dear, come! You ain't crying, now that the Lord, and this blessed child under Him, has taken away all your trouble?"
But the farmer, to his own great amazement102, was crying. He sobbed103 quietly once or twice, then cleared his throat, and wiped his eyes with the old silk handkerchief. "Poor ol' father," he said, simply. "It seems kind o' hard that nobody ever believed him, an' we let him die thinkin' he was crazy. That takes holt on me; it does, Marm Lucy, now I tell ye! Seems like's if I'd been punished for not havin' faith, and now I git the reward without havin' deserved it."
"As if you could have reward enough!" cried Hildegarde, laying her hand on his affectionately. "But, oh! do just look at them, dear Farmer Hartley! Aren't they beautiful? But what is that peeping out of the cotton-wool beneath? It is something red."
Farmer Hartley felt beneath the cotton which lined the box, and drew out—oh, wonderful! a chain of rubies104! Each stone glowed like a living coal as he held it up in the lamp-light. Were they rubies, or were they drops of blood linked together by a thread of gold?
"The princess's necklace!" cried Hilda. "Oh, beautiful! beautiful! And I knew it was true! I knew it all the time."
The old man fixed a strange look, solemn and tender, on the girl as she stood at his side, radiant and glowing with happiness. "She said—" his voice trembled as he spoke, "that furrin woman—she said it was her heart's blood as father had saved. And now it's still blood, Hildy, my gal, our heart's blood, that goes out to you, and loves and blesses you as if you were our own child come back from the dead." And drawing her to him, he clasped the ruby105 chain round Hilda's neck.
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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clinch
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| v.敲弯，钉牢；确定；扭住对方 [参]clench | |
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11
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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12
gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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13
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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14
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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15
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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16
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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17
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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18
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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19
mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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20
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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21
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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22
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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23
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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24
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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25
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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26
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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27
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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28
negligently
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29
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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30
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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31
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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32
squeaks
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| n.短促的尖叫声，吱吱声( squeak的名词复数 )v.短促地尖叫( squeak的第三人称单数 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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33
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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34
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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35
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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36
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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37
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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38
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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39
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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40
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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41
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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42
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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43
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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44
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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45
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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46
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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47
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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48
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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49
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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50
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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51
blindfold
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| vt.蒙住…的眼睛；adj.盲目的；adv.盲目地；n.蒙眼的绷带[布等]； 障眼物，蒙蔽人的事物 | |
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52
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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53
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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54
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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55
spurted
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
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56
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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57
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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58
shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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60
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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61
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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62
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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64
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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65
yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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66
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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67
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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68
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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69
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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70
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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71
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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72
scuttling
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| n.船底穿孔，打开通海阀（沉船用）v.使船沉没( scuttle的现在分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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73
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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74
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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75
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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76
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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77
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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78
demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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79
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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80
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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81
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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83
yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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84
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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85
yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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87
untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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88
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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89
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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91
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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92
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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93
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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94
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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95
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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96
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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97
rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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99
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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100
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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102
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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103
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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104
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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105
ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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