‘Cursed gold!’ he exclaimed at last, jumping from the bed, ’what shall I do with it?  Pay my debts, and turn a sober man?  I will try.  If ’Netta will have me, perhaps I may; indeed I am sure I could.  We will come here and cut a dash first, however.  I should like to humble some of our Welsh aristocrats by showing them how the son of Griffey Jenkins can eclipse their genealogies, by the magic power of the Golden God.  I will stay over the funeral, then off to town and get rid of my pressing debts; then pay Levi and Moses, and all my debts of honour; then set myself up in clothes and jewels, and come home and carry off Netta; and, finally, have a year’s pleasure at least.  Take Netta to the continent, and teach her to parlez-vous a little more fluently than she does now, and to assume more aristocratic manners; in short—­in short—­’

The soliloquy was interrupted by the sudden explosion of some substance under his feet, upon which he accidentally trod as he was pacing up and down the room.  He swore an oath that emanated from his fear, and thought that the lower regions had actually opened to receive the gold he was meditating upon, since fire and smoke accompanied the noise, together with a smell of gunpowder.  He rushed out of the room, just as his mother, alarmed by the sound, was running upstairs.

‘They will carry him off before the funeral,’ he cried, as his mother asked what was the matter.

Ashamed of his cowardice, he made an effort to return to the room, followed by his mother.  There was such a strong smell of sulphur that both recoiled.

‘What fools we are!’ exclaimed Howel, forcing himself to enter.  He stooped to examine the floor, and to his amusement and disgust, found the remains of a cracker, which had burst beneath his foot-tread.  There were several others scattered about, that had been unnoticed, because they looked simply like bits of paper.  These had evidently been placed by his father amongst the gold, in the hope of frightening any one who might wish to finger it, and had rolled out with the treasure they were intended to protect.

Mother and son again left the room, the latter locking the door as he did so, and putting the key in his pocket.  They descended to the little parlour below stairs, where they finished the night, alternately dozing in their chairs, and talking, and occasionally supporting themselves by draughts of the different liquors that were spread upon the table near them.  In spite of his best efforts to throw aside such thoughts, Howel could see nothing all that night but the gold, the father who had won it, and the poor wretches who had been ruined in paying usurious interest for it.

CHAPTER VII.

The squire.

The dinners at Glanyravon were always unexceptionable.  Mr Gwynne was a bit of an epicure, and kept a capital cook, and his daughter liked to see everything done in good style.  Even Mrs. Jonathan Prothero declared that the dinner-parties at her cousin’s, Sir Philip Payne Perry’s, were scarcely more agreeable or better managed.