THE LOST MINIATURE.

The morning came, and the anxiety which the Doctor and Mrs. Brier had felt the night before was not removed but rather increased.  What to do for the best was the question preying upon both minds.  There was no escape from the conviction that one of the boys, either by accident or with evil intent, had taken the missing articles.  If by accident, they would be returned the first thing in the morning, although there would be no excuse for not having returned them on the previous evening as soon as the discovery was made; and if with evil intent who was the culprit?

The Doctor was one of those men who could best bear anxiety out-of-doors.  If anything unusual troubled him, no matter what the weather might be, he would pace the garden or wander through the fields, while he thought or prayed himself out of the difficulty.

He was a God-fearing man.  I do not mean in the sense in which many apply this term, turning a good old phrase into a cant expression.  He believed in God, he believed in the Bible, and he believed in prayer.

So, after he had paced the garden in the early morning, long before any others of the establishment were abroad, he turned into the summer-house, and there, quiet and alone, he prayed for guidance in his difficulty.

When breakfast was over the boys began to away to their several rooms and occupations, but those who had been at the Doctor’s on the previous evening were told separately that he wished to speak with them in his library.  Each was rather startled on arriving to find others there, and a vague feeling of discomfort prevailed at first.  Mrs. Brier was present, and this added to the mystery, as she was rarely seen in the library.

“Now, my boys,” said the Doctor, when all had assembled, “I want to take you all into my confidence, and shall be glad, in the interest of all, if what is now said is kept as much as possible to ourselves.  The matter about which I have called you together is one that has caused me much anxiety, and I shall be thankful if you can allay my uneasiness.  You will remember that last night Mrs. Brier showed you a casket of trinkets and curiosities, amongst them a valuable miniature painting and an antique snuff-box.  I am sorry to say that these are missing.  Careful and diligent search has been made for them, but they cannot be found.  Can any of you throw light on the subject?  Is it possible that by accident one of you may have mislaid them, or inadvertently have carried them away?”

Anxious glances were exchanged from one to the other as each answered in the negative.  An awkward pause followed.

“And now,” said the Doctor, “it is my painful duty to ask you separately whether you know anything whatever about the matter.  For the sake of each, and the honor of all, I charge you to tell me truth as in the sight of God.  Herbert, do you know anything about it?”

“No, sir.”