Part 38 (1/2)

”I'm afraid, sir----”

”Well?”

”I don't believe, sir----”

”That it's worth anything at all?” the farmer interrupted.

A solemn dignity, the accompaniment of great trouble, came to the man's aid and gave him strength. ”Thank you,” he said; ”I understand.”

He looked around with a troubled glance and saw the far smaller but more valuable pearl that his neighbor had found, which was still lying on the table beside the instruments. A strong s.h.i.+ver shook him, but he made no other sign. He turned to Colin.

”I see that it's no good,” he said, ”but I shall keep it just the same.

If you have finished with it----”

Colin stood up and placed the pearl in his hand.

”Please take it to some one else right away,” he said. ”I couldn't sleep--suppose I were wrong!”

The old farmer looked at him gravely.

”No man would do as you have done and say what you have said, unless it was so clear that he couldn't help but know,” he replied. He turned to the neighbors. ”I'm afraid,” he said, ”I have in part spoiled your pleasure, and,” he added, with a twitch of the muscles of his face, ”made a fool of myself, besides. Come, Mary, we'll go home.”

The others pressed forward with words of sympathy, but the stricken man paid no heed and pa.s.sed out of the door. Colin sat heavily back in his chair staring moodily at the instruments, his heart sore within him, but he knew he could have done nothing else. Yet the thought of the old farmer's sorrow was powerfully before him, and he had to keep a strong grip on himself to keep from showing an unmanly emotion.

Outside the little cottage could be heard a murmur of voices, as the old farmer tried to comfort his wife, while inside the house no one spoke lest he should seem careless of the grief and disappointment of those who were still within hearing. Suddenly a third voice was heard outside, speaking excitedly. Once again that tense clutch of suppressed emotion permeated the room and Colin, with his heart in his mouth, looked up. No one moved. Outside the voices ceased.

Then, through the open door, rushed a boy about twelve years old, muddy from head to foot, but with his two eyes s.h.i.+ning like lights from his grimy face. The mussel-gatherer recognized instantly the farmer's son.

”What is it, John?” he asked.

”I was goin' over some sh.e.l.ls father hadn' opened, after he'd found that other pearl, an' I got this! Father he says the other one's no good an'

that this isn' likely to be any better! But I don' know! It looks all right!”

He glanced down at the object in his hand.

”Father said it was no good,” he repeated, a little less certainly; ”but I don' know.”

He held out his hand and pa.s.sed the pearl to the mussel-gatherer, who glanced at it hastily.

”Mr. Dare!” he said excitedly.

Colin looked up and caught his glance, then tried to take the stone. But his hand shook as though he were in a violent fever, and the mussel-gatherer placed it on the table beside his own, in front of the boy. Clear, flawless, and of fair size, it gleamed like a star of hope before them all. A moment's examination was enough. Leaping from his seat Colin seized the pearl and rushed out of the door.

”It's real, sir; it's real!” he cried. ”And will do all you said!”

The old farmer never looked at him. He turned his face toward the stars and reverently removed his hat.

CHAPTER IX