, having always heard and
thought that good work will not do itself, but must have time and
skill to second it. And Mr. Handkin, moving arms, palms, and fingers
beautifully, put the same thought into words.

"Good work takes a deal of time to do; but the man that does it all the
time knows well that it will take long to undo. Here it comes undone at
last!"

As he spoke, the excitable Major returned.

"Done it, eh? Well, you are a clever fellow. Now don't look inside it;
that is no part of your business, nor mine either, unless this young
lady desires it. Hand it to her first, my friend."

"Wait half a minute," said the lapidary; "it is so far opened that the
hoop spins round, but it must not be taken off until it cools. The lady
may lift it then with care. I have done this job as a piece of fine art;
I have no wish to see any more of it."

"Handkin, don't you be so touchy to a brother Cornishman. I thought that
I was Cornish enough, but you go cliffs beyond me."

"Well, Major Hockin," the lapidary answered, "I beg your pardon, if I
said harm. But a man doing careful and skilled work--and skilled work
it is, at every turn of the hand, as miss can bear witness, while you
walked off--he don't care who it is, Major Hockin, he would fight his
own brother to maintain it."

"Very well, very well. Let us come away. I always enter into every
body's feelings. I see yours as clearly, Handkin, as if you had laid
them open on that blessed wheel. My insight has always been remarkable.
Every one, without exception, says that of me. Now come away, come
away--will you never see?"

Intent as I was upon what lay in my left palm relaxing itself, I could
not help being sorry for the way in which the man of art, after all his
care, was ground down by his brother Cornishman. However, he had lived
long enough in the world to feel no surprise at ingratitude.

Now I went to one of the windows, as the light (which had been very
good) began to pale from its long and labored sufferance of London,
and then, with soft and steady touch, I lifted off the loosened hoop. A
smell of mustiness--for smells go through what nothing else can--was
the first thing to perceive, and then, having moved the disk of gold, I
found a piece of vellum. This was doubled, and I opened it, and read, in
small clear writing:

"May 7, 1809 A.D., George, Lord Castlewood, married Winifred, only child
of Thomas Hoyle, as this his signature witnesseth.

"CASTLEWOOD