eart,
till fortune made me rich; not until then did I guess how base, lying,
false, and bad was 'honest Roger;' how sensual, coarse, and brutal, was
that hypocrite 'steady Acton'. Money is a devil, child, or pretty near
akin. Then I complained of toil, too, didn't I?--Ah, what are all the
aches I ever felt--labouring with spade and spud in cold and rain,
hungry belike, and faint withal--what are they all at their worst (and
the worst was very seldom after all), to the gnawing cares, the hideous
fears, the sins--the sins, my girl, that tore your poor old father?
Wasn't it to be an end of troubles, too, this precious crock of gold?
Wo's me, I never knew real trouble till I had it! Look at me, and judge;
what has made me live like a beast, sin like a heathen, and lie down
here like a felon? what has made me curse Ben Burke--kind, hearty,
friendly Ben?--and given my poor good boy an ill-report as having stolen
and slain? all this crock of gold. But O, my Grace, to think that the
crock's curses touched thee, too! didn't it madden me to hear them?
Dear, pure, patient child, my darling, injured daughter, here upon my
knees I pray, forgive that wrong!" And he fell at her feet beseechingly.

"My father," said the noble girl, lifting up his head, and passionately
kissing it; "when they whispered so against me, and Jonathan heard the
wicked things men said, I would have borne it all, all in silence, and
let them all believe me bad, father, if I could have guessed that by
uttering the truth, I should have seen thee here, in a dungeon, treated
as a--murderer! How was I to tell that men could be so base, as to
charge such crimes upon the innocent, when his only fault, or his
misfortune, was to find a crock of gold? Oh! forgive me, too, this
wrong, my father!"

And they wept in each other's arms.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

JONATHAN'S TROTH.

GRACE had been all but an inmate of the prison, ever since her
father had been placed there on suspicion. Early and late, and often in
the day, was the duteous daughter at his cell, for the governor and the
turn-keys favoured her. Who could resist such beauty and affection,
entreating to stay with a father about to stand on trial for his life,
and making every effort to be allowed only to pray with him? Thus did
Grace spend all the week before those dread assizes.

As to her daily maintenance, ever since that bitter morning when the
crock was found, her spiritual fears had obliged her to abst