His daughter, like the rest, felt upon the brink of mystery, yet doubted not but that her father would presently explain. She was bitterly disappointed yet not surprised. At last Malherb flung down a pick and mopped his forehead. "'Tis done--to the last corner!" he cried. "And what have we found?" "A dead dog, some old rotten boxes, some-candle-ends and some crustes, your honour," said Mr. Beer. "So be it. I thank God--before you all I thank God! And let each man remember this day!" He pulled off two heavy signet rings, the only adornments that he wore, gave one to Beer and the other to Harvey Woodman. "Keep them for a sign of your fruitless labour. And you men, come to me to-morrow: I've a guinea for each of you. Remember, all, that I'm your best friend for evermore. I'll never forget one of ye! You stare, you good, worthy clods--well, stare and wonder. It is your part to do so. Know at least that my heart is light." He turned, drew on his coat, then gave his daughter his arm. He seemed to have shaken off a weight of years with his hard work. His step was elastic, his head was thrown back. "I cannot say that I am sorry any more when I see your joy, dear father. Yet, like the men, I wonder too. But I will not ask you why you are glad to have lost your treasure, or I may get answered as Bickford was." "The rascal had an impudent tone in his voice, though I'll swear he meant no offence. But for you, indeed, do not ask, my little maid. 'Tis enough that what looks evil news is not so. This day, as the wrecked sailor, who, from his perilous spar floating on ocean, sees suddenly a great ship at hand, and finds salvation even in the grave of his hopes, even so am I. I--I have been through dark waters--I have suffered to the very last hiding-places of the heart. My life turned upon me and rent me. My wrath roused up such a devil as I knew not man could harbour. God hid His face and I was lost in the darkness. But now--now my cup is full. He has spared me; He has lifted my load. I must commune with Him. I cannot talk to mankind until I have praised the name of the Lord. With David I could dance before Him, because He has made my heart whole again and lifted my head in my own sight." "Then will I bless God too, dear father. Indeed, your face says more to me than your words. You are grown young. There is even laughter in your eyes again." He held her hand and pressed it. "Money's not everything--how well I know that," she said. "'Tis nothing--less than nothing--glorified mould--scum--a dirty mantle on the deep water of life--the poisonous berries we children clutch at. I hate it. I scorn it. The gilded moss in that hole there--the moss that will grow black and die in the glare of day--that is money. Let in light and we see it as it is." "You never cared for money."