Then he buried the old man, lighted the lamp, and read the books. Weeks passed and even months. Chrif ate little and slept less.
At last, one day, he lifted a shining face. "I have found the secret!" he cried, "the letters are plain."
Then stepping to the door, he read: "Knock and this door will open."
Chrif knocked once, and the door flew open. One shining spot he saw in the darkness. It was the pot of gold.
Chrif put out his hand to take it, when lo! burning words shone on its side. And Chrif read:
"I am the Pot of Gold; I can give thee all things save one. If thou hast me, thou canst not have that. Close thine eyes. Then, if thou choosest me, open them again."
Chrif closed his eyes. He saw the old red house dark and cold. No one lived there now. The boat-garden was hidden under the snow. Someone in white passed him by. She was weeping bitterly. "Rhoda!" he cried and followed in her steps.
Suddenly a warm hand fell upon his shoulder.
"Chrif, dear Chrif!"
He opened his eyes, and O joy! Rhoda stood beside him.