OUT OF DANGER.
"CONTENT with the gold." That described Isaac's present state. He had
gone back to the worship of his old idol.
Next day the move took place. Neither Isaac nor Daisy could walk so far
as to their new home; and indeed poor old Isaac seemed quite spent with
his unwonted exertion of the evening before. So a fly conveyed them
together; Isaac hugging the bag of gold under his great-coat, caring
for nothing else. He hardly spoke to Daisy, hardly looked at her. He
seemed to want only to be alone, that he might enjoy his treasure.
His former caution had forsaken him, and he was no longer willing
to wait for the evening. The moment he was by himself, out came the
wash-leather bag.
Matters went on so for two or three days. Isaac was sinking back into
his old state.
Daisy could not be happy to leave him thus. Though the chief part of
the purchase-money was safe, Isaac himself was not safe. She knew her
poor old father to be in real and terrible peril. Daisy thought much
and prayed much about her own mode of action. She feared greatly to
take a wrong step; and the right opportunity for speech could not
easily be found.
Every evening, before going to bed, Daisy read some verses to Isaac
from the Bible. He had not refused to hear her the last few nights, but
he had paid no manner of attention. She might almost as well have read
to a stone wall.
The third night in the new home had come, and Daisy read as usual, old
Isaac sitting opposite with an air of stolid indifference, while his
fingers felt for the string of his bag.
Daisy suddenly put the Bible down, and said slowly,—.
"Father, there is that maketh himself rich, yet hath, NOTHING!"
"Eh?" said Isaac, his attention caught by her change of voice.
Daisy repeated the words distinctly, and a stirred look passed over his
face.
"I've been poor," he muttered. "It was all gone—all. But I'm rich again
now. I've got gold—gold, Daisy!"
"No, no; it is just the other way," said Daisy. "You have been getting
rich lately, and now you are poor again." She came near and laid her
hands on his. "Oh father, can't you see? It is a real great danger. If
you keep this money, you'll love it again as much as ever, and then you
will not care to hear about God, or to do His will. And when you die
you will have no Saviour—no Heaven. Think, how dreadful."
"No—Heaven!" repeated Isaac.
"Not if you love this money best, father. It will come between you and
God, and cut you off from Heaven. Oh, you had much much better put it
behind the fire."
"Why, Daisy!" Isaac said in amaze, quite roused up. "Why, Daisy,
you're mad. You wouldn't have me throw it into the fire. It's gold,
Daisy—gold."
"Yes, poor miserable gold," said Daisy. "It is gold, father, real gold.
I know that. You love those gold pieces dearly; more than you love me."
"No, no, I don't know as I'd say that, Daisy," put in the old man, with
a gleam of his late affection for her.
"More than you love God, father."
Isaac was silent.
"And yet they can't give you back any love,—they can't help you,—and
when you die, you will have to leave them all behind. What will you
do then? O father, think, is it worth while?" asked Daisy, and tears
streamed from her eyes.
Isaac looked uneasily at her.
"I think it is like that text," said Daisy, "'What shall it profit a
man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul, or what
shall a man give in exchange for his soul?' The bag of gold is 'the
whole world' to you just now, father."
"What 'ud you have me do, Daisy?" asked Isaac, with a perplexed air,
and Daisy's heart sprang.
"I'd have you give up the gold, father," she cried eagerly. "It isn't
safe for you to keep. It shall be taken care of for you; and we shall
have plenty of money coming in every quarter to keep us going; plenty,
for I mean to be very careful. And Mr. Roper will arrange it all for
us. But if you keep that gold and love it so, father, you'll never be
really happy. It will hang on you like a weight, and drag you back from
serving God. Won't you give it up?"
There came a long pause. Isaac seemed to be thinking, with his head
sunk on his chest. Daisy's hand lay still upon his.
"Father, the Lord Jesus loved you and died for you," she said softly,
after a while. "And He wants you to love Him and serve Him. But I don't
see how you can, if you keep that gold and love it best of all."
"No, I don't see how I can," echoed old Isaac.
Then, quite suddenly, quite unexpectedly, he pulled out the
wash-leather bag, and held it with both hands towards Daisy.
"Take it all, Daisy—quick—quick," he said. "And don't you ever let me
set eyes on it again."
Daisy caught the bag from him, and fled out of the room, as if she had
been carrying a very serpent from his path. She ran to the kitchen,
and then and there she sent Mary Davis straight off to Mr. Roper,
asking him to take charge of the fifty pounds, and pay the sum next
morning into the Bank, which would now be closed. Daisy knew she could
thoroughly depend on the faithful Mary.
Coming back to the tiny parlour, she found Isaac crying and sobbing in
his childish fashion, with his old moan of "Gone—gone—gone—all gone!"
"Yes, it's gone, father, gone to the Bank," said Daisy brightly. "Quite
safe there, till we want it. And the danger is gone, too, thank God."
"Danger gone!" repeated Isaac in his dreamy fashion, and he added, "But
it do go against the grain, Daisy."
"It won't in a little while," said Daisy. "It will be all right soon."
She began singing softly one of her favourite hymns, and Isaac
presently fell sound asleep. When he awoke, an hour later, strange to
say the longing for his bag of gold seemed for the time to have left
him. He was quiet and affectionate towards Daisy once more, as he had
been before it came into his possession.
As weeks and months passed by, this quiet content increased; and
gradually the hunger after gold appeared to die quite out of Isaac's
heart.
For a new heavenly treasure was taking the place of the old earthly
treasure, and thus all sense of craving was stilled.
Isaac did not know much, could not understand much. But the aged eyes
which had once glittered at the chink of coin, might now be seen to
shine with happiness when Daisy read to him holy words from the Book of
Life. A marked change passed over the old man. He ceased to be peevish
and ill-tempered and untidy. Daisy made it her delight to attend to his
needs, and he was at last willing to leave everything in her hands.
"In fact, he's like another man," Mrs. Simmons said. "I wouldn't know
him for Mr. Meads, if I met him in another place. Dressed so decent and
respectable, and ready to give a civil answer to any body that comes
near him. I declare I never could have thought it! And Miss Daisy seems
that happy, she can scarce contain herself."
THE END
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