“Not often,” assented Amos, watching him. “Yet still I have heard of money being picked up in strange ways.”
“It isn’t likely to come much in my way, though, unless indeed I eat humble pie, and beg his lordship to give me the—the place, I suppose you call it, which I refused to-day so contemptuously.”
“And are you really ready to do that?” asked Amos, in a tone so full of scorn that the weak and sensitive lad writhed under it.
“As ready as I am to starve, perhaps,” answered he, reddening.
“But why do either?” asked the librarian, in a low, soft tone of gentle persuasion. “Providence does sometimes favor the deserving, and though I am not superstitious, I am inclined to think that, having preserved you from a life of unworthy drudgery, such as your own family seem to have been quite willing for you to adopt, Providence has some better destiny in store for you than you fancy.”
“Providence had better make haste about it then, or she may find that she has missed her chance.”
“Shall we take a walk together?” asked Amos, who began to see in the lad’s eyes the look of desperation he had been hoping for. “The fresh air sometimes cools the brain, and gives one fresher and brighter thoughts. It is my sovereign remedy for all the ills of my dull life. Come.”
Rees let himself be led out by the librarian; but when the latter wished to direct his steps towards the ruins of Carstow Castle, he drew back and protested.
“Not to the castle. I don’t want to go to any place which reminds me of that man and the humiliation he put me to to-day.”
“Try to get over that feeling,” insisted Amos, gently drawing him forward in the direction of the old walls. “Take my word for it, the humiliation will some day be on the other side. Besides, the old castle can hardly be called his property. Any treasure found buried in the ruins would not be his; it would belong to that vague thing, ‘the Crown.’ ”