He had not thought of opening it, in his first disappointment at finding it returned.

He turned back the lid.

Bound with a bit of narrow ribbon and pressed down carefully, he found a heavy lock of gold-white hair, so fair that it made everything around it seem dark--the grass, our clothes, and even the white streamer that hung down from Isaacs' turban.

It seemed to shed a bright light, even in the broad noon-day, as it lay there in the curiously wrought box--just as the body of some martyred saint found jealously concealed in the dark corner of an ancient crypt, and broken in upon by unsuspecting masons delving a king's grave, might throw up in their dusky faces a dazzling halo of soft radiance--the glory of the saint hovering lovingly by the body wherein the soul's sufferings were perfected.
The moment Isaacs realised what it was, he turned away, his face all gladness, and moved on a few steps with bent head, evidently contemplating his new treasure.

Then he snapped the spring, and putting the casket in his vest turned round to me.
"Thank you, Griggs; how are they all ?" "It was worth a two-hundred mile ride to see your face when you opened that box.