Gold!- his own gold- brought back to him as
mysteriously as it had been taken away! He felt his heart begin to
beat violently, and for a few moments he was unable to stretch out his
hand and grasp the restored treasure. The heap of gold seemed to
glow and get larger beneath his agitated gaze. He leaned forward at
last, and stretched forth his hand; but instead of the hard coin
with the familiar resisting outline, his fingers encountered soft warm
curls. In utter amazement, Silas fell on his knees and bent his head
low to examine the marvel: it was a sleeping child- a round, fair
thing, with soft yellow rings all over its head. Could this be his
little sister come back to him in a dream- his little sister whom he
had carried about in his arms for a year before she died, when he
was a small boy without shoes or stockings? That was the first thought
that darted across Silas's blank wonderment. Was it a dream? He rose
to his feet again, pushed his logs together, and, throwing on some
dried leaves and sticks, raised a flame; but the flame did not
disperse the vision- it only lit up more distinctly the little round
form of the child and its shabby clothing. It was very much like his
little sister. Silas sank into his chair powerless, under the double
presence of an inexplicable surprise and a hurrying influx of
memories. How and when had the child come in without his knowledge? He
had never been beyond the door.
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