“Ay,” said Richard, with a smile; “what’s that?”

“A copper lode.  It is curious that so many folks should have come and gone there and never found it before; but there it is, for certain.  Mr. Stratum has seen Charles, and tells him that he can hardly trust himself to speak of its probable value.”

“Well, I congratulate you, my dear, on being an heiress.”

“Nay, my dear Mr. Balfour, but this must not be.  Overborne by your kind pressure I consented to receive this bequest—­a considerable one in itself, indeed—­for what it was.  I could not now take advantage of your ignorance of its real value; it distresses me deeply to give you trouble in your present sad condition, but you must see yourself that circumstances compel me.”

“Give me the will, my dear; it is in yonder drawer.  Here is a letter folded in it in my handwriting.  What does the superscription say?”

“To Agnes Aird.”

“Just so.  You were to have opened it after my death, but you may read it now.  Please to do so aloud.”

“MY DEAR YOUNG LADY,—­When I am gone, it is my earnest desire that your marriage with Charles Coe shall take place as early as may be found convenient.  He will make a good husband to you, I think; I am sure you will make him a good wife.  He loves you for your own sake, which is the only love worth having.  But, as it happens, you are very rich.  In the mine which I have left you—­in the northeastern corner of the bottom level—­there is a copper lode, the existence of which is known to me, and to me only.  I have every reason to believe that it will be found in the highest degree productive, and for your dear sake I trust it may be so.  True, you will have money enough and to spare for your own needs, but wealth will not spoil you—­in your hands it will be a great good.  To the two injunctions which here follow I have no means to give effect, and must trust solely to your loyal heart to carry them out.  I do so with the most perfect confidence. (1.) I wish that this bequest of mine, be the value of it ever so great, be strictly settled, upon your marriage, on yourself and your children, so that it can not be alienated by any act of your husband; and this I do not from any preference to yourself over him, or from any prejudice against him, God knows. (2.) In case the estate of Crompton, of which Wheal Danes formed a fragment, should again be in the market, and the mine turn out so valuable that its proceeds should enable you to purchase such estate (without inconvenience or damage to your interests), I do enjoin that you do so purchase it, and make Crompton your future home.  This is a ’sick man’s fancy,’ some will tell you; and yet you will not neglect it.”

* * * * *

“And you will not, Agnes dear?” whispered Richard, eagerly, when she had thus finished.  “This is the last favor I shall ever ask of you.  Promise me! promise me!”