“The fault I find with him,” said Tom, “is his credulity. He believes everything, and, what's worse, every one. There are fellows here who persuade him this mine is to make his fortune; and if he had thousands to-morrow, he would embark them all in this speculation, the only result of which is to enrich these people, and ruin ourselves.”
“Is that your view of it?” asked Cave, in some alarm.
“Of course it is; and if you doubt it, come down with me into the gallery, as they call it, and judge for yourself.”
“But I have already joined the enterprise.”
“What! invested money in it?”
“Ay. Two thousand pounds,—a large sum for me, I promise you. It was with immense persuasion, too, I got Fossbrooke to let me have these shares. He offered me scores of other things as a free gift in preference,—salmon-fisheries in St. John's; a saw-mill on Lake Huron; a large tract of land at the Cape; I don't know what else: but I was firm to the copper, and would have nothing but this.”
“I went in for lead,” said Trafford, laughingly.
“You; and are you involved in this also?” asked Tom.
“Yes; so far as I have promised to sell out, and devote whatever remains after paying my debts to the mine.”
“Why, this beats all the infatuation I ever heard of! You have not the excuse of men at a distance, who have only read or listened to plausible reports; but you have come here,—you have been on the spot,—you have seen with your own eyes the poverty-stricken air of the whole concern, the broken machinery, the ruined scaffoldings, the mounds of worthless dross that hide the very approach to the shaft; and you have seen us, too, and where and how we live!”