"Worth, lad! It warn't the money's worth as I cared for!" exclaimed the old man. "Had it been a brass farthing as had been given me as a keepsake by a dying parent, it would ha' been more to me than a purse of gold! I didn't take much time to think about it, the day was short, 'twas already getting dusk, if I waited, the under-current might drag my watch down where I never should find it again. Back I plunged into the deadly cold water, striking my arms right and left to break the ice, and to keep in the life which was well-nigh frozen out o' me, for a numbness was a-creeping over my body. I searched and searched, feeling about the bottom, now with my feet, now with my hand, and more than once I got right under the ice, and lost my breath, and thought it was all over with me. I've done many a hard day's work in my life, but the toughest job as ever I had was the seeking 'mid the ice for my watch on that piercing night in December." "But you found it at last," said Martha. "Ay, ay, I found it at last," rejoined the old man, a gleam of honest pleasure lighting up his weather-worn face; "warn't I glad when I found it warn't a round pebble as I had touched with my foot, as I was afeard at the first! I brought the watch up out of the water, after I'd been a-hunting, gasping and struggling, shivering and freezing, the best part of an hour. It was the thought of the words, 'Keep it for my sake,' as gave me strength to hold on; and though I had to lie in bed for a week, and had rheumatics that I didn't shake off till the summer, all along of that search under the water, there was something as out-matched the trouble and the pain—it was such a comfort to my heart to know that I'd kept the dying request of my mother!" The tale was not a now one to Mat, but it was one which, by the family of Michael, was always heard with interest, and it had deepened in the minds of his children and grandchildren impressions of filial reverence and love. The old silver watch, thus handed down from generation to generation, was—and was likely long to be—a precious relic in the cottager's home. When Michael had finished his story, his grandson observed, "I don't see why you should ha' thought about that watch when you was a-reading that chapter just now." "Do you not see, lad, it's all plain enough to my mind!" exclaimed Martha. "Your grandfather was willing to suffer hunger and hardship, danger and chill, sickness and pain, rather than neglect the last wish of a dear mother who had taken her death from watching over him—" "And yet," interrupted Michael Garth, finishing the sentence for his wife, "never till this night have I taken to heart the dying wish of One who has loved me better than ever did my mother, and has suffered more for me than ever a mother suffered! I've read His words, and scarce given them a thought—God have mercy upon me, a sinner—for my heart must have been more dead than a stone!"