’Open it,’ said Joyce. ’Vaither found ’n the night o’ the axidenk. He found ’n in one of the boxes that had gone scatt wi’ falling from the carriage. He thought there might be some’ut in him, and so he tooked ’n away and brought ’n here, and wi’ a bit of stone knacked the lock all abroad. I see ’n do it. That were after he’d a broke me to pieces, When I came by my wits I seed old vaither sitting by the fire and working till he’d a got the lid started, and then he looked in and seed what were there, and he sed he’d give me some if I’d take ’em. But they wos no good to me, and I couldn’t a done nort wi’ ’em with both my arms broke. I couldn’t move my fingers, and I were that deadly ill I didn’t care for nort but to lie quiet and die right on end. So then, after a bit, vaither said he knowed what he’d do wi’ ’em as they were no good to he. He’d give ’n to mother, her’d play wi’ ’em o’ nights and be quiet. So he heaved up the hearthstone—vaither be a deal stronger than you—and he shoved the box under, just over where mother’s heart be. There, look’y what brave fine things they be.’ Herring had opened the box. He looked in in speechless amazement. Then he raised a tray and looked further, and beneath the tray was more still. Presently he found his tongue, drew a heavy breath, and said, ’Good heavens, Joyce, these are diamonds. There are thousands of pounds worth of diamonds here.’ ’They be brave shiney stones.’ ’They are diamonds.’ ’Well, you may take ’em. They belongs o’ rights to the Whiteface. You can take ’em and give ’em to her or keep ’em yourself, just as you likes.’ *CHAPTER XV.* *EHEU, BUBONES!* When Balboa, from a peak in Darien, discovered an ocean untroubled by waves, unstained by the shadow of a cloud, he named it the Pacific. John Herring’s exploration of life was the reverse of Balboa’s course; he had left behind him the Pacific Ocean, in which he had hitherto sailed, and he had sighted the sea of storms. Balboa had little idea of the extent of the watery tract he discovered, and Herring had but a faint suspicion of the nature and fretfulness of the sea on which he was about to embark. A few weeks ago the problem of life had seemed to him a simple addition sum; he was about to discover that it consisted in the extraction of surds, which when extracted prove dead and dry symbols. ’Vanity of vanities,’ said the Preacher, after he had worked at the sum all his days; the conclusion of the whole matter is, ’all is vanity.’