When he looked back, in retrospective, he felt his life had not been in vain.
The young woman was quiet for a spell, pondering the question, while he smiled with a mischievous grin on his face.
“I wouldn’t dare say, Sir John. Perhaps, he tired of cleaning them and sold them all off?”, she answered in a doubtful voice.
Sadly smiling, he answered:
“Three hundred and forty-three, not one less, nor one more! He never sold, exchanged or bought any one of the bloody coins. Ironically, grandfather was ever so fond of wealth. I dare say that the least valuable of them all, was worth a handsome income. Now you tell me, what kind of a collector would ever behave in that fashion?”
“When I began to go to school in Stratford, I had a collection of glass-marbles. I loved those little glass wonders. Every single one of them! I was willing to trade off the most common ones, the repeats, for that rare marble, for that beautiful marble that I had to have, at whatever cost!”
“A real collector has this drive to watch his collection grow, to turn it into the best compilation he is capable of achieving. For, in the end, he is immensely proud of his treasure and longs to see it thrive. He will be most willing to display it to the rest of the world so that in turn, it may be admired by all. The perpetual longing that afflicts his soul resides in his blood.”
“Possession, my dear Alicia, without that enthusiasm and unrelenting passion is merely empty custody and guardianship of a group of inert and lifeless objects, and that, my dear, is as worthless as his collection! What a shameful and tremendous waste….” “
“The good news is… when my father inherited the coins, each one had been so thoroughly cleaned and was as shiny as the most beautiful ray of dazzling light”
© All photos by edudelcorral