When we read the letter aloud at home, Mrs. Allen looked at her husband with so significant an expression, and he returned it with one so full of earnest meaning, that I exclaimed:—
"Dear Dominie, dear Mrs. Allen, what is it?"
Mrs. Allen did not speak. The Dominie glanced at her before replying. Then he said:—
"My son, our hearts were much troubled at the new thoughts which these jewels had brought into the life of our household. We do not desire money for ourselves; we fear it for those we love. We must grieve that your hopes are cast down, but we cannot help being glad that the chief mission of the wonderful stones is, after all, nothing more than to give us all one farther glimpse into the wonders of God's house in which we dwell."
Jim sprang from his seat, went to the Dominie, took his hand reverently in both of his, and pressed it without speaking. The Dominie's words had gone to the very bottom of his heart.
"God bless you, my son," said the Dominie. "When your hair is as white as mine you will think as I think."
"I do now, sir," said Jim, in a low voice, "and I believe I should think the same if I had not been rich."
"Much you can tell about that, old fellow," said I. "Wait till you 've had to go without half the things you wanted for years and years. You 're just like a blind man talking about colors."
