Moth and Rust; Together with Geoffrey's Wife and The Pitfall

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
By MARY CHOLMONDELEY, AUTHOR OF RED POTTAGE.
Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array. —Christina Rossetti.
LONDON JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET 1902
TO ESSEX. Not chance of birth or place has made us friends.
My best thanks are due to the Editor of The Graphic for his kind permission to republish Geoffrey's Wife, which appeared originally in The Graphic . MARY CHOLMONDELEY.



Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal.
The Vicar gave out the text, and proceeded to expound it. The little congregation settled down peacefully to listen. Except four of their number, the quality in the carved Easthope pew, none of them had much treasure on earth. Their treasure for the greater part consisted of a pig, that was certainly being laid up to meet the rent at Christmas. But there would hardly be time for moth and rust to get into it before its secluded life should migrate into flitches and pork pies. Not that the poorest of Mr Long's parishioners had any fear of such an event, for they never associated his sermons with anything to do with themselves, except on one occasion when the good man had preached earnestly against drunkenness, and a respectable widow had ceased to attend divine service in consequence, because, as she observed, she was not going to be spoken against like that by any one, be they who they may, after all the years she had been on the teetotal.
Perhaps the two farmers who had driven over resplendent wives in dog-carts had treasure on earth. They certainly had money in the bank at Mudbury, for they were to be seen striding in in gaiters on market-day to draw it out. But then it was well known that thieves did not break through into banks and steal. Banks sometimes broke of themselves, but not often.