Trevethick had certainly shown strong disfavor to the young man’s suit, backed though it was by such great pretensions; and it was evident that but for his hold upon him with respect to the mine, Richard would not have been listened to so patiently.  However, his mouth had not been peremptorily closed at once (as he had expected it would have been), which was a great point gained, and the longer the old man took to think about the matter the more likely was self-interest to gain the day with him.  Supposing Richard’s representations to have been correct, he was certainly “a better match” for Harry than Solomon was; and he had no apprehension of their being refuted.  Trevethick would in all probability write to Mr. Whymper to inquire into the truth of them—­but what then?  He would certainly make no reference to the mine; and as to Richard being Carew’s lawful son, had not the chaplain himself (whom he could count on as a friend to say all that was to his advantage besides) admitted that, in his eyes, he was born in honest wedlock?  At all events, there would be ample excuse for his having taken such a view of the case; while, as to his prospects, he had frankly confessed that he was, for the present, unacknowledged by the Squire.  So long, in fact, as he could keep up the pretense of influence, either present or contingent, at Crompton, he felt his position with Trevethick tolerably secure.  In all this scheme of dark deceit his love for Harry was interwoven like a golden thread, and amidst all his plots and plans her glorious face would suddenly rise unbidden, and charm him from them.  He had long since resolved to win her, but the late avowal of her love for him, and now his partial success to gain her father’s favor, seemed to have made her his own already.  How beautiful she had looked that day upon the tower, with the sunlight on her hair!  How fresh and guileless were her ways!  Her very weaknesses were lovable, and the cause of love.  How touching was her simple faith in omens, and how pleasant to combat it, his arm about her dainty waist, as though to protect her from the shadow of harm!  How pitiful her fear of her gruff father, and of this Cornish Solomon; and how sweet to calm it, kissing her tears away!  Once more his loving arms embraced her—­once more his lips touched her warm cheeks—­when a sudden noise awakened him from his dream of bliss.

The parlor fire had long gone out.  It was warm for the time of year; but had it been otherwise he would not have replenished it.  The candles, too, had burned out, and the moon-beams were streaming through the window; but had it been dark he would scarce have been aware of it.  The house had long ago been hushed in repose, and yet Richard felt certain that he had heard a movement in the passage.