“The bottom?”

“The reason, sir—­the motive!—­the why!—­the wherefore—­the what it is all to end in.  The bottom!”

“Why not say you would like to read John Meadows’ heart?”

“Don’t be angry, sir; it is presumption, but I can’t help it.  Deduct twenty per cent for so great a honor.”

“Why, the fool is in earnest.”

“He is; we have all got our little vanity, and like to be thought worthy of confidence.”

“Humph!”

“And then I can’t sleep for puzzling.  Why should you stop every letter that comes here from Australia.  Oh, bless me, how neglectful I am; here is a letter from there, just come.  To think of me bringing it, and then forgetting.”

“Give it me, directly.”

“There it is.  And then, why on earth are we ruining old Mr. Merton without benefiting you? and you seem so friendly with him; and indeed, you say he is not to be harmed—­only ruined; it makes my head ache.  Why, what is the matter, Mr. Meadows, sir?  What is wrong?  No ill news, I hope.  I wish I’d never brought the letter.”

“That will do, Crawley,” said Meadows, faintly, “you may go.”

Crawley rose with a puzzled air.

“Come here to-morrow evening at nine o’clock, and you shall have your wish.  All the worse for you,” added he, moodily.  “All the worse for me.  Now go, without one word.”

Crawley retired dumfounded.  He saw the iron man had received some strange, unexpected and terrible blow; but for a moment awe suppressed curiosity, and he went off on tiptoe, saying almost in a whisper, “To-morrow night at nine, sir.”

Meadows spread George’s letter on the table and leaned on his two hands over it.

The letter was written some weeks after the last desponding one.  It was full of modest, but warm and buoyant exultation.  Heaven had been very good to Susan and him.  Robinson had discovered gold; gold in such abundance and quality as beat even California.  The thousand pounds, so late despaired of, was now a certainty.  Six months’ work, with average good fortune, would do it.  Robinson said five thousand apiece was the least they ought to bring home; but how could he (George) wait so long as that would take!  “And, Susan, dear, if anything could make this wonderful luck sweeter, it is to think that I owe it to you and to your goodness.  It was you that gave Tom the letter, and bade me be kind to him, and keep him by me for his good; he has repaid me by making us two man and wife, please God.  See what a web life is!  Tom and I often talk of this.  But Tom says it is Parson Eden I have to thank for it, and the lessons he learned in the prison; but I tell him if he goes so far back as that, he should go farther, and thank Farmer Meadows, for he it was that sent Tom to the prison, where he was converted, and became as honest a fellow as any in the world, and a friend to your George as true as steel.”

The letter concluded as it began, with thanks to Heaven, and bidding Susan expect his happy return in six months after this letter.  In short, the letter was one “Hurrah!” tempered with simple piety and love.