A Brutal Threat.
Gwyn did not see Joe for a whole week, and he did not go over to the mine, for the Colonel had called him into his room the next morning, and had a very long, serious talk with him, and this was the end of his lesson,—
“Of course, I meant you to go and read for the army, Gwyn, my lad, but this mine has quite upset my plans, and I can’t say yet what I shall do about you. It will seem strange for one of our family to take to such a life, but a man can do his duty in the great fight of life as well whether he’s a mine owner or a soldier. He has his men to keep in hand, to win their confidence, and make them follow him, and to set them a good example, Gwyn. But I can’t say anything for certain. It’s all a speculation, and I never shut my eyes to the fact that it may turn out a failure. If it does, we can go back to the old plans.”
“Yes, father,” said the boy, rather dolefully, for his father had stopped as if waiting for him to speak.
“But if it turns out a successful, honest venture, you’ll have to go on with it, and be my right-hand man. You’ll have to learn to manage, therefore, better than ever I shall, for you’ll begin young. So we’ll take up the study of it a bit, Gwyn, and you shall thoroughly learn what is necessary in geology, and metallurgy and chemistry. If matters come to the worst, you won’t make any the worse officer for knowing such matters as these. It’s a fine thing, knowledge. Nobody can take that away from you, and the more you use it the richer you get. It never wastes.”
“No, father,” said Gwyn, who began to feel an intense desire now to go on with his reading about the wars of Europe, and the various campaigns of the British army, while the military text-book, which it had been his father’s delight to examine him in, suddenly seemed to have grown anything but dry.
“Begin reading up about the various minerals that accompany tin ore in quartz, for one thing, and we’ll begin upon that text-book, dealing with the various methods of smelting and reducing ores, especially those portions about lead ore, and extracting the silver that is found with it.”
“Yes, father,” said Gwyn, quietly; and the boy set his teeth, wrinkled his brow, and looked hard, for Colonel Pendarve treated his son in a very military fashion. He was kindness and gentleness itself, but his laws were like those of the Medes and Persians done into plain English.
But the whole week had passed, and Mrs Pendarve took him to task one morning.
“Come, Gwyn,” she said, “I am quite sure your father does not wish you to mope over your books, and give up going out to your old amusements.”