“Good,” replied Solomon.  “I’ll get a warrant from old Justice Smallgood on my way.  Rouse up, man, rouse up; you shall have your money back, I tell you, and see this rascal lagged for life into the bargain.”

“If I could only get him hanged!” answered the old man, fiercely—­“if I could only get him hanged, Sol, I’d let the money go, and welcome!”

Solomon stared after him, as he left the room and tramped up stairs in search of the list of notes, with a ludicrous expression of wonder.  In his eyes, no revenge at present seemed worth so extravagant a price.  But Trevethick had his reasons, or thought he had, for this excess of hate; his slow-moving yet powerful nature resembled the python—­it was exceedingly tenacious when its object was once grasped, and it was apt to glut itself.

CHAPTER XXIV.

A HARD ALTERNATIVE.

Solomon had ridden off, and was half-way to Turlock before Trevethick felt himself sufficiently collected to summon Hannah, and bid her send for her young mistress.  He could not go in search of her himself and speak what he had to ask:  no bird of the air must carry her reply, no wind of heaven breathe it, if it was such as he feared.  There must be no “scene” in public to let loose the gossips’ tongues.  He sat in the bar parlor, with his huge head leaning on his hands, brooding over his wrongs, and waiting for her—­for the daughter by whose wicked connivance, as he thought, he had been despoiled of his hard-earned gains.  He did not reproach himself for having thrown her so much with Richard, in order that the latter might be kept in good-humor, and apt to forward his plans as to Wheal Danes.  He “wondered at their vice, and not his folly.”  As to there being any thing beyond a flirtation between the young people, he did not suspect it; but even as matters were, he was bitterly enraged against Harry, and would have strangled Richard out of hand if he could have got near him.  It was evident to him that this fellow had been courting his daughter, though he knew she was plighted to another, and had wormed out of her the secret of his hoarded wealth.  Six months ago she would not for her life have dared to tell what she knew he wished to hide; and now this young villain had wound himself so cunningly about her that she had no will but his, and had even helped him to rob her own flesh and blood.  His heel was on that serpent’s head, however, or would be in a day or two, and then—­The old man ground his teeth as though his enemy were between them.

“Well, father, here I am; Hannah said you wanted me.”

Harry’s voice was as calm as she could make it, but her young limbs trembled, and her face was very pale.

[Illustration:  “SHE DRAGGED UPON HIS ARM.”]

“Come here—­nearer!” cried Trevethick, hoarsely, seizing her by the wrist.  “Do you know that you are the only creature but two—­but one, I may say, for gratitude ain’t love—­that I have ever loved in this world—­that I have worked for you, planned for you, and for you only, all my life?”