He knew he could not buy it: he had not the money; but he would gladly dally with the notion of being its possessor. To part with it, the moment after having held it in his hand and gloated over it for the first time, would be too keen a pain! It was unreasonable to have to part with it at all! He _ought_ to be its owner! Who could be such an owner to a thing like that as he! It was a wrong to him that it was not his! Next to his cup, it was the most precious thing he had ever wished to possess!--a thing for a man to take to the grave with him! Was there no way of carrying _any_ treasure to the other world? He would have sold of his land to secure the miracle, but, alas, it was all entailed! For a moment the Cellini chalice seemed of less account, and he felt ready to throw open the window of his treasure-room and pitch everything out. The demon of _having_ is as imperious and as capricious as that of drink, and there is no refuge from it but with the Father. “This kind goeth not out by prayer.” The poor slave uttered, not a sigh now, but a groan. “You'll tell the man,” he said, thinking George had borrowed the thing to show him, “that I did not even ask the price: I know I can not buy it!” “Perhaps he would give you credit!” suggested George, with a smile. “No! I will have nothing to do with credit! I should not be able to call it my own!”--Money-honesty was strong in the laird. “But,” he continued, “do try and persuade him to let me have it for a day or two--that I may get its beauty by heart, and think of it all the days, and dream of it all the nights of my life after!” “There will be no difficulty about that,” answered George. “The owner will be delighted to let you keep it as long as you wish!” “I would it were so!” “It is so!” “You don't mean to say, George, that that queen of jewels is yours, and you will lend it me?” “The thing is mine, but I will not lend it--not even to you, sir!” “I don't wonder!--I don't wonder! But it is a great disappointment! I was beginning to hope I--I--might have the loan of it for a week or two even!” “You should indeed if the thing were mine!” said George, playing him; “but--” “Oh, I beg your pardon! I thought you said it was yours!” “So it was when I brought it, but it is mine no longer. It is yours. I purchased it for you this morning.” The old man was speechless. He rose, and seizing George by both hands, stood staring at him. Something very like tears gathered within the reddened rims of his eyes. He had grown paler and feebler of late, ever in vain devising to secure possession of the cup--possession moral as well as legal. But this entrancing gift brought with it strength and hope in regard to the chalice! “To him that hath shall be given!” quoted the Mammon within him. “George!” he said, with a moan of ecstasy, “you are my good angel!” and sat down exhausted. The watch was the key to his “closet,” as he persisted in calling his treasury.