"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.
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