tement.

"Now, give it up," said he. She returned it. He got it against his
breast joylessly, and then bade her to try the weight of the two. She
did try them, and Anthony doated on the wonder of her face.

"Uncle, see what riches do! You fear everybody--you think there is no
secure place--you have more? Do you carry about all your money?"

"No," he chuckled at her astonishment. "I've...Yes. I've got more of my
own." Her widened eyes intoxicated him. "More. I've saved. I've put by.
Say, I'm an old sinner. What'd th' old farmer say now? Do you love your
uncle Tony? 'Old Ant,' they call me down at--" "The Bank," he was on
the point of uttering; but the vision of the Bank lay terrific in
his recollection, and, summoned at last, would not be wiped away. The
unbearable picture swam blinking through accumulating clouds; remote and
minute as the chief scene of our infancy, but commanding him with the
present touch of a mighty arm thrown out. "I'm honest," he cried. "I
always have been honest. I'm known to be honest. I want no man's money.
I've got money of my own. I hate sin. I hate sinners. I'm an honest man.
Ask them, down at--Rhoda, my dear! I say, don't you hear me? Rhoda, you
think I've a turn for misering. It's a beastly mistake: poor savings,
and such a trouble to keep honest when you're poor; and I've done it
for years, spite o' temptation 't 'd send lots o' men to the hulks. Safe
into my hand, safe out o' my hands! Slip once, and there ain't mercy in
men. And you say, 'I had a whirl of my head, and went round, and didn't
know where I was for a minute, and forgot the place I'd to go to, and
come away to think in a quiet part.'..." He stopped abruptly in his
ravings. "You give me the money, Rhoda!"

She handed him the money-bags.

He seized them, and dashed them to the ground with the force of madness.
Kneeling, he drew out his penknife, and slit the sides of the bags, and
held them aloft, and let the gold pour out in torrents, insufferable to
the sight; and uttering laughter that clamoured fierily in her ears
for long minutes afterwards, the old man brandished the empty bags, and
sprang out of the room.

She sat dismayed in the centre of a heap of gold.

CHAPTER XLI

On the Monday evening, Master Gammon was at the station with the cart.
Robert and Rhoda were a train later, but the old man seemed to be
unaware of any delay, and mildly staring, received their apologies, and
nodded. They asked him more than