'Do you see this?' he said, gathering up the money in his hand and

letting it drop back into the box, between his fingers, like water. 'Do

you hear it? Do you know the sound of gold? There, put it back - and

don't talk about banks again, Isaac, till you've got one of your own.'

Isaac List, with great apparent humility, protested that he had never

doubted the credit of a gentleman so notorious for his honourable

dealing as Mr Jowl, and that he had hinted at the production of the

box, not for the satisfaction of his doubts, for he could have none, but

with a view to being regaled with a sight of so much wealth, which,

though it might be deemed by some but an unsubstantial and

visionary pleasure, was to one in his circumstances a source of

extreme delight, only to be surpassed by its safe depository in his own

personal pockets. Although Mr List and Mr Jowl addressed themselves

to each other, it was remarkable that they both looked narrowly at the

old man, who, with his eyes fixed upon the fire, sat brooding over it,

yet listening eagerly - as it seemed from a certain involuntary motion

of the head, or twitching of the face from time to time - to all they said.

My advice,' said Jowl, lying down again with a careless air, 'is plain - I

have given it, in fact. I act as a friend. Why should I help a man to the

means perhaps of winning all I have, unless I considered him my

friend? It's foolish, I dare say, to be so thoughtful of the welfare of

other people, but that's my constitution, and I can't help it; so don't

blame me, Isaac List.'

I blame you!' returned the person addressed; 'not for the world, Mr

Jowl. I wish I could afford to be as liberal as you; and, as you say, he

might pay it back if he won - and if he lost - '

You're not to take that into consideration at all,' said Jowl.

But suppose he did (and nothing's less likely, from all I know of

chances), why, it's better to lose other people's money than one's own,

I hope?'

Ah!' cried Isaac List rapturously, 'the pleasures of winning! The

delight of picking up the money - the bright, shining yellow-boys -

and sweeping 'em into one's pocket! The deliciousness of having a

triumph at last, and thinking that one didn't stop short and turn

back, but went half-way to meet it! The - but you're not going, old

gentleman?'

I'll do it,' said the old man, who had risen and taken two or three

hurried steps away, and now returned as hurriedly. 'I'll have it, every

penny.'

The Old Curiosity Shop