"About Ellen, I suppose?" he said; " love
in a cottage, and no money to pay the butcher.
Go on!"

"It is about Ellen," said Winnington; " it
is about love—a cottage also, probably—but
not about poverty, but wealth, rank,
magnificence!"

"Ha! let us hear. You speak with sense
at last —you'll give up this penniless fancy—
you'll hate her in a month when you find
yourself tied to penury and obscurity."

"But I shan't be tied to penury and
obscurity; I tell you she is the greatest heiress
in England, and it is I who will put her in
possession of her wealth. It is this right
hand which will lift up the veil that keeps
her treasures concealed! It is I who will
hang pearls about the neck that would
buy a kingdom, and plant the diamonds
of India among her hair —and all from her
own soil!"

It is impossible to describe the effect of
this speech upon the listener. He sat upright
upon his chair; his lips partly open, his face
as pale as ashes, and his eye fixed on the
enthusiastic boy.

"And you! you, dear Arthur, you shall
help me in this —for your German residence
gave you a knowledge of the appearances of a
mineral bed—you have studied the subject
here, for I have watched your experiments.
I know this estate is filled with ore; but how
to work it, Arthur —how to begin —how to
smelt —to clear—to cast! these are the things
you must help me in; Ellen will be grateful,
and so shall I."

"Shall you? You be grateful for what?"

"For your aid in bringing into practical
effect the discovery I have made of the vast
mineral resources with which all Combe-
Warleigh is filled. You'll help us, Arthur—
for Lucy's sake! for my sake! for all our
sakes! won't you ? "

"How have you made this discovery?"
said Arthur in a calm voice.

"Do you remember the night you burned
the broom-plant ? I thought nothing of it
at the time, but in the morning when I came
down, the old woman was clearing out the grate.
I stopt her, and grubbed about among the
ashes; and see what I found! a piece of solid
metal, perfectly free from earth! See, here
it is! How lucky I was to make the
discovery! It will make Mr. Warleigh richer
than if his lands were filled with gold."

The face of Arthur grew almost black.

"I was of age," he said, " four days ago,
and made an offer to Mr. Warleigh's agent
for the manorial rights and heath-lands of
his estate—which he is bound to accept, for I
give the sum they ask."

"Arthur! " exclaimed Winnington starting
up; " have you the heart to ruin the right
owners of the soil?"

"By this time they have sold it; they are
deep in debt."

" But they shall not ! No ; this very
moment I will go back to the manor and tell
Mr. Warleigh what I know; he will not
fulfil the bargain made by his attorney."

"O! no, you won't," said Arthur, knitting
his brows; " I have toiled and struggled for
many years for this, and you think I will
now submit to beggary and disgrace, to see
the wealth I have worked for, formed into
shape, called out of nothing into glittering
existence, heaped upon another, and that other
a dotard whose fathers for a thousand years
have been treading on countless riches, and
never heard the sound—the sound that
reached my ears the moment I trod the soil.
It shall not be."

Winnington looked at the wild eye of his
companion. A suspicion again came into his
mind of the state of Arthur's brain. He
tried to soothe him.

"But perhaps, after all," he said, " we may
be both mistaken. It is very likely the
friendliest thing I could do to hinder you
from buying these unprofitable acres. If
your expectations are deceived, you will be
utterly ruined, and what will you do ? "

"A man can always die," replied Arthur,
sitting down; " and better that than live in
poverty."

"And Lucy?—"

"For ever Lucy! I tell you, Winnington,
that when you look at me you grow so like
her, that I almost hate the girl as if the blow
you strike me with just now, were struck by
her."

"I strike no blow. I merely say that Lucy
would give you the same advice I do. She
would not wish to grow rich by the concealment
of a treasure, and the impoverishment
of the rightful owner."

"The rightful owner is the man to whom
the treasure belongs," said Arthur, not bursting
forth into a fresh explosion as Winnington
expected, the moment his speech was uttered.
"And if the bargain is concluded, the lands
are mine."

"Not all?"

"No. I leave them the rich fields, the
pasture ground in the valley, the farm upon
the slope. I am modest, and content myself
with the useless waste; the dreary moor,
the desert hill. It is, in fact, making Mr.
Warleigh a free gift of fifteen hundred
pounds, and with that he can give his
daughter a portion, and rebuild his old ruin,
with a wing in it for his son-in-law; and the
remaining five hundred of my stately fortune
(that wretches should be found so low as to
exist on two thousand pounds!) will erect a
crushing-mill, and dig to the first lode. Then
—then," he continued, as the picture rose to
his imagination, "the land will grow alive
with labour. There will be a town where
the present hamlet shivers in solitude upon
the wild. There will be the music of a
thousand wheels, all disengaging millions from
the earth. There will be a mansion such as
kings might live in, and I—and I—"