ossible; I distinctly
recollect closing the blinds, and putting down the sash before I went
to bed. Elise, were you not with me at the time?"

"Yes, I am sure you secured it, just before bidding me goodnight."

"Well--no matter, facts are ugly, stubborn things. Now you two just
see for yourselves, what I found this morning."

Hannah hurried them into the library, where a fire had already been
kindled, and her statement was confirmed by the disarranged
furniture, and traces of mud on the window-sill and carpet. The
inkstand had rolled almost to the hearth, scattering its contents
_en route_, and as he glanced at his desk the minister turned pale.

The secret drawer which opened with a spring had been pulled out to
its utmost extent, and he saw that the tin box he had so carefully
locked the previous night was missing. Some _MSS_ were scattered
loosely in the drawer, and the purse filled with gold coins, a
handsomely set miniature, and heavy watch chain with seal attached,
all lay untouched, though conspicuously alluring to the cupidity of
burglars. Bending over his rifled sanctuary, Mr. Hargrove sighed,
and a grieved look settled on his countenance.

"Peyton, do you miss anything?"

"Only a box of papers."

"Were they valuable?"

"Pecuniarily no;--at least not convertible into money. In other
respects, very important."

"Not your beautiful sermons, I hope," cried his sister, throwing one
arm around his neck, and leaning down to examine the remaining
contents of the drawer.

"They were more valuable, Elise, than many sermons, and some cannot
be replaced."

"But how could the burglars have overlooked the money and jewellery?"

Again the minister sighed heavily, and, closing the drawer, said:

"Perhaps we may discover some trace in the garden."

"Aye, sir,--I searched before I raised an uproar, and here is a
handkerchief that I found under that window, on the violet bed. It
was frozen fast to the leaves."

Hannah held it up between the tips of her fingers, as if fearful of
contamination, and eyed it with an expression of loathing. Mr.
Hargrove took it to the light and examined it, while an unwonted
frown wrinkled his usually placid brow. It was a dainty square of
finest cambric, bordered with a wreath of embroidered lilies, and in
one corner exceedingly embellished "O O" stared like wide wondering
eyes, at the strange hands that profaned it.

"Do you notice what a curious, outlandish smell it has? It st