wer of water that stood by his bed-head, there had
been a glass of deadliest poison, he would have seized it greedily, and
emptied it to the dregs.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE LETTER LOOK.

On the day that Richard left Gethin, which was itself an incident to
keep the tongues of its gossips wagging for a good week, another
occurrence took place in that favored neighborhood, and one of even more
absorbing interest--the workings of Dunloppel were suspended. This, of
course, was not a wholly unexpected catastrophe. The new vein, after
giving an exceedingly rich yield for some months, had of late, it was
whispered, evinced signs of exhaustion, although the fact was not known
that for several weeks the undertaking had been carried on at a loss.
Neither Trevethick nor Solomon, who were the principal proprietors, was
the sort of man to play long at a losing game, or to send good money
after bad; so, for the present, the pit was closed. But Solomon believed
in Dunloppel; contrary to his custom, he had not disposed of a single
share when the mine was at a premium, and his stake in it was very
large.

Only a few minutes after Richard had departed for Plymouth with his
check, Solomon returned to the inn with thoughtful brow.

Trevethick was moodily smoking his pipe in the porch, still balancing
the rival claims of his sons-in-law elect, and dissatisfied with both of
them. He did not share Solomon's hopes, and he detested losing his money
above every thing. "Well, you've packed off all those fellows, I hope,
that have been eating me out of house and home for these three weeks?"

"I've closed the mine, if that's what you mean," said Solomon. "But" (he
looked cautiously up at the windows of the inn, which were all open--the
guests were out in search of the picturesque, and Harry was on the
tower, straining her eyes after Richard) "I want to have a word with you
in private, Trevethick."

"Come into the bar parlor, then," grunted the landlord, for he did not
much relish the idea of a confidential talk with Solomon just then,
since it might have relation to a matter about which he had not fully
made up his mind to give him an answer.

"Is that young painter fellow out of the way, then?" asked Solomon. "We
have never had a place to ourselves, it seems to me, since _he_ came to
Gethin."

"Yes, yes, he's far enough off," answered Trevethick, more peevishly
than before, for Sol's remark seemed to foreshadow the very subject he
w