That was why the deacon tried to keep her from being too sanguine, even though he himself was possibly hugging suddenly awakened rapturous dreams to his heart.
"There may have been others, Joel!" she cried exultantly; "but look on the back of the medallion.

I feared it might be lost some day, Joel, so I scratched his initials there.

My glasses are too moist for me to see well; look and tell me if you can make out anything, husband!" Even Hugh held his breath while the deacon turned the tiny medallion over in his hands.

Then he snatched up a reading glass of considerable power from the table, and held it close to the object in his quivering clutch.
They heard him give a cry, and it did not hint at disappointment.
"Oh! Joel, are the three letters there ?" she begged piteously, as she hugged the still calmly sleeping child closer and closer to her heart.
"Something I can see, wife, although it is very faint," he told her.
"But then think of the many years that have elapsed.

The scratches must have been very lightly done at best.