ave it in your power, sir. Surely, with my encouragement,
you might summon resolution."

"Alas, John, the resolution has been ready long ago. But the thing is
not in my possession. Carver, my son, who slew your father, upon him you
will find the necklace. What are jewels to me, young man, at my time of
life? Baubles and trash,--I detest them, from the sins they have led me
to answer for. When you come to my age, good Sir John, you will scorn
all jewels, and care only for a pure and bright conscience. Ah! ah! Let
me go. I have made my peace with God."

He looked so hoary, and so silvery, and serene in the moonlight, that
verily I must have believed him, if he had not drawn in his breast. But
I happened to have noticed that when an honest man gives vent to noble
and great sentiments, he spreads his breast, and throws it out, as if
his heart were swelling; whereas I had seen this old gentleman draw in
his breast more than once, as if it happened to contain better goods
than sentiment.

"Will you applaud me, kind sir," I said, keeping him very tight, all the
while, "if I place it in your power to ratify your peace with God? The
pledge is upon your heart, no doubt, for there it lies at this moment."

With these words, and some apology for having recourse to strong
measures, I thrust my hand inside his waistcoat, and drew forth Lorna's
necklace, purely sparkling in the moonlight, like the dancing of new
stars. The old man made a stab at me, with a knife which I had not
espied; but the vicious onset failed; and then he knelt, and clasped his
hands.

"Oh, for God's sake, John, my son, rob me not in that manner. They
belong to me; and I love them so; I would give almost my life for them.
There is one jewel I can look at for hours, and see all the lights of
heaven in it; which I never shall see elsewhere. All my wretched, wicked
life--oh, John, I am a sad hypocrite--but give me back my jewels. Or
else kill me here; I am a babe in your hands; but I must have back my
jewels."

As his beautiful white hair fell away from his noble forehead, like a
silver wreath of glory, and his powerful face, for once, was moved with
real emotion, I was so amazed and overcome by the grand contradictions
of nature, that verily I was on the point of giving him back the
necklace. But honesty, which is said to be the first instinct of all the
Ridds (though I myself never found it so), happened here to occur to me,
and so I said, without more hast