curious about
coins, or felt any pleasure in possessing such a sum: but there was such
a don't-know-what connected with that new half-crown, which made her
long to look at it; so she opened the paper--and found its golden
fellows! O noble heart! O kind, generous, unselfish--yes, beloved
Jonathan! But what is she to do with the sovereigns? Keep them? No, she
cannot keep them, however precious in her sight as proofs of deep
affection; but she will call as soon as possible, and give them back,
and insist upon his taking them, and keeping them too--for her, if no
otherwise. And the dear innocent girl was little aware herself how glad
she felt of the excuse to call so soon again at Hurstley.

Meantime, for safety, she put the money in her Bible.

What hallowed gold was that? Gained by honest industry, saved by
youthful prudence, given liberally and unasked, to those who needed, and
could not pay again; with a delicate consideration, an heroic essay at
concealment, a voluntary sacrifice of self, of present pleasure,
passion, and affection. And there it lies, the little store, hidden up
in Grace's Bible. She has prayed over it, thanked over it, interceded
over it, for herself, for it, for others. How different, indeed, from
ordinary gold, from common sin-bought mammon; how different from that
unblest store, which Roger Acton covets; how purified from meannesses,
and separate from harms! This is of that money, the scarcest coins of
all the world, endued with all good properties in heaven and in earth,
whereof it had been written, "The silver is mine, and the gold is mine,
saith the Lord of hosts."

Such alone are truly riches--well-earned, well-saved, well-sanctified,
well-spent. The wealthiest of European capitalists--the Croesus of
modern civilization--may be but a pauper in that better currency,
whereof a sample has been shown in the store of Jonathan Floyd.

CHAPTER XV

ANOTHER DISCOVERY, AND THE EARNEST OF GOOD THINGS.

"Dame, here's one o' Ben's gallipots he flung away: it's naught
but honey, dame--marked so--no crock of gold; don't expect it; no such
thing; luck like that isn't for such as me: though, being as it is, the
babes may like it, with their dry bread: open it, good-wife: I hope the
water mayn't ha' spoilt it."

The notable Mary Acton produced certain scissors, hanging from her
pocket by a tape, and cut a knot, which to Roger had been Gordian's.

"Why, it's bran, Acton, not honey; look here, wi