The Vicar's People Part 52

Mr Penwynn sat thinking for a few minutes, and then said quietly,--

"Mr Trethick, I ask you, _as my manager_, to stay."

"And if I succeed, sir, what then?"

"Succeed first, and then we'll talk."

There was considerable emphasis upon a portion of the banker's speech, and Geoffrey rose, and, without another word, left the room.

"I am to stay," he thought exultingly, and his first idea was that he should go and tell Rhoda; but he recollected that he must henceforth look at her from a distance. It was only reasonable, he felt. What right had he, a penniless adventurer, to aspire to Rhoda's hand? It was madness, he owned; but time was before him, and he had her love.

He had the indors.e.m.e.nt of her love when he returned from the mine that evening, for Madge Mullion brought him a note that he saw at a glance was in Rhoda's handwriting, and a throb of joy ran through him as he caught the envelope.

Then, looking up, he saw the bearer's eyes gazing wistfully at him, and he noted, more and more, how pale and wan she looked.

"Why, Madge," he said, "are you unwell?"

She shook her head, and hurried away.

"Poor girl," he muttered, "I cannot have made her look like this. She must be ill, and fretting about some one else."

He was opening the letter as he spoke, and his eyes flashed as they ran over the few simple lines the note contained.

They were very short. They only told of the interview between father and daughter, and bade Geoffrey remember that though they would seldom meet now, the future was before them, and Rhoda added, "My daily prayer will be for your success."

"For my success," said Geoffrey, firmly, as he placed the letter in one particular fold of his pocket-book. "Then now I am going to work."

Rather a curious declaration for one whose labours had for months been almost herculean, but it did not seem to occur to Geoffrey that it was strange; and, after partaking of his tea, he was about to go in and see Uncle Paul, when there was a step outside, and directly after the girl came in to say that Amos Pengelly wanted to see him.

"Show him in, girl," said Geoffrey; and directly after there was a heavy limping step; the miner entered, and, without a word, banged down a great lump of granite quartz upon the table.

"There," he cried excitedly, "that's not salt."

Geoffrey looked at him wonderingly, took up the piece of granite, which sparkled with black grains in a band of ruddy mineral running through the piece, and turned it over and over by the light.

"That didn't come from nowhere else, master," said Pengelly.

Still Geoffrey did not reply, but continued to examine the piece of rock, the miner's excitement being so great that he could hardly contain himself.

"Where did you get this?" said Geoffrey, at last.

"In the four-east drive."

"Under the sea?" said Geoffrey, sharply.

"Yes, sir."

"When?"

"Not an hour ago."

"You staid down then, Pengelly?"

"Yes. Iss, my son. I knew there was good stuff down there somewhere, and I've hit it now."

"Have you been searching much, Pengelly?"

"Every night, master, since the mine was opened," said Pengelly, proudly, "I felt that my character was at stake. I would find it. I prayed and wrastled that I might find it, master," he cried, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes, "and my prayer is heard."

"Pengelly," cried Trethick, "there's thirty per cent of metal in that rock--thirty? Perhaps more," he cried excitedly.

He caught up his hat, and together they hurried down to the mine, where, in spite of the lateness of the hour, the engine was going, and a stream of water pouring forth, for it needed some effort to keep the galleries dry.

Mining garments were soon donned, lamps taken, and, to the surprise of the man in charge of the engine, the manager announced his intention of descending; and, stepping into the cage, Pengelly and he were soon rus.h.i.+ng down into the bowels of the earth, to step out at last six hundred feet from the surface, and then thread their way along the dark stone pa.s.sages of the silent place.

For the mine was deserted now for the night, and there was nothing for company but their own shadows thrown grotesquely on the sparkling walls and floor.

Pengelly led the way with no little agility, making light of lumps of refuse remaining from the old working of the mine, and even yet not removed, for Geoffrey's venture had been in quite another direction.

As they went on, Pengelly pointed here and there to freshly chipped places where he had been, pursuing his investigations without success, and at last he stopped short at the end of the gallery, facing the rock.

"They had got to success," said the miner, hoa.r.s.ely. "Only another foot, and they would have reached the lode. Look here, master."

"Give me the pick," cried Geoffrey, excitedly; and, s.n.a.t.c.hing the tool, as Pengelly held the lamp, he made the gallery echo and send long, loud reverberations along its course. The rock spat forth a shower of sparks, while Geoffrey proceeded to cut out a goodly-sized fragment of the stone from the bottom of the new fracture where Pengelly had been at work.

It was a strange scene, and the shadow of the young man, as it was cast here and there upon the rock, looked like some hideous spirit of the mine waving its arms, and menacing him with a monstrous pick. There was something awful too, in the harsh, clanging noises repeated from the stony walls; and every stroke of the implement he wielded seemed to draw forth threatening flashes of light, as the toiler smote on at the hard rock that had lain there virgin from far back in those distant ages whose dim vistas are so full of awe to the inquiring mind.

But neither Pengelly nor Trethick thought of aught but the value of the ore that the latter was hewing, till he had detached a far larger lump than that brought to him by his follower.

"Take hold, Pengelly," said Geoffrey, excitedly, as he picked up the dislodged fragment, and, thrusting it into the miner's hands, he took the lamp, which made the dew upon his forehead glisten; and then, with trembling hands, he held the light close to the wall, examining it carefully here and there, right in where the pieces had been cut and at the side. Then, not satisfied, he took the pick, and cut here and there at the dripping, slimy sides that had been coated with a curious growth while under water for years, and against which the newly-cut portions flashed out bright and clean.

A cut here, a few chips there, ceiling, floor a few yards back, in all directions, and the result was the same, namely, that the quartz rock was similar to that where the grand rich vein of tin was running; and, after full five hours' hard toil, patiently lighted the while by Pengelly, it was literally forced upon Geoffrey that trickery had no existence here; that the rock had never been tampered with by speculators, but was virgin and pure as it had been from the beginning of time, and he knew that the old proprietory had ceased their efforts in this direction when riches were within their grasp.

Then, and then only, did Geoffrey draw out a pocket-lens for his final look, close it, throw down the piece of ore, and catching Pengelly's hands in his, shake them with a hearty grip.

"Right!" he cried, "there is no salt here, Pengelly. Wheal Carnac is a great success."

He stopped short, listening to a sound that had at first been but a faint murmur, but had increased by slow degrees to a heavy roar, and he realised that which he had for the time forgotten--that they were beneath the sea, and that the crust of rock between them and the mighty waters must be very thin.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

TOO FAST.

It was too late to go up to An Morlock on the night of the discovery; but Geoffrey Trethick was there by breakfast-time, to find Rhoda in the morning-room, and Mr Penwynn not yet down.

Rhoda read his face as he entered and threw a heavy bag on the table to catch her hands in his.