But he had a small share in Dunloppel, which seemed likely to turn out very profitable; and he had built the inn, the returns from which were more than sufficient to support him—­indeed, it was rumored that John Trevethick had been laying by a pretty penny, and could hold his head much higher if he pleased.  His pleasures were certainly not expensive, for they consisted in fancy iron-working, the results of which brought him in a considerable sum; and in occasionally getting drunk, which, being a publican, he could accomplish at the most reasonable figure.  He was a hard unlovable man, and interesting only as statistics may be said to be as compared with literature—­in a hard, practical way.  If superstitious, he was by no means religious; and, though honest, he was grasping.  He took time to resolve upon a matter; but, when once his resolution was fixed, his will was iron, and his heart was stone.  It was certainly curious that one of Trevethick’s character should have entertained so long and freshly his sentiment of gratitude even to a man that had saved his life at the expense of his own; but even this may have had its roots in egotism.  Had the person saved been his wife or his daughter the feeling would not perhaps have been so enduring; and in carrying it out, as he fully purposed to do, by bestowing Harry’s hand upon Solomon, he was certainly not uninfluenced by the fact that the latter was, pecuniarily speaking, an excellent match.

Like himself, his intended son-in-law was the architect of his own fortunes; but he had built them up in a different way.  His youth had been spent in the coal-mines of the north; and, though no lucky stroke of the pick can there make one rich, as it can in other underground localities, his strength and skill had met with their full reward.  And what he had gained he had not wasted.  Pound after pound he had laid by, until enough had been saved for investment; and it was Solomon’s boast in after-years that he had never got less than ten per cent. for any of it.  It was all ventured on underground speculations, some of them hazardous enough—­but all had prospered; and here John Trevethick’s judgment, though the old man himself had not the courage to follow it, had been of great advantage to him.  Every thing he touched turned, if not to gold, at least to tin or copper; and before the lode ceased to yield Solomon had sold his shares at a good premium, and placed the proceeds in another pit.  He had sown, as it were, his money in the earth, and reaped a golden harvest.  And now Dunloppel, his last venture, seemed likely to prove his best:  and it was another strand in the strong bond between himself and Trevethick that the latter had also a share in that undertaking.  There are some men with whom a common pecuniary interest is the most binding tie of sympathy of which their nature is capable; and never had the landlord of the Gethin Castle been more closely attached to his guest and son-in-law elect than at this time, when Richard Yorke proposed to himself to part them; as though a gilded summer skiff should thrust itself between two laden coal-barges, and bid them budge.