When Marvel heard from Mr. Harrison the result of this conversation, he was inspired with the strongest desire to convince Lucy that he was capable of perseverance. To the astonishment of all who knew him, or who thought that they knew him, he settled steadily to business; and, for a whole twelvemonth, no one heard him speak of any new scheme. At the end of this time he renewed his proposal to Lucy; saying that he hoped she would now have some dependence upon his constancy to her, since she had seen the power she had over his mind. Lucy was artless and affectionate, as well as prudent: now that her only real objection to the match was lessened, she did not torment him, to try her power; but acknowledged her attachment to him, and they were married.
Sir Plantagenet Mowbray’s agent was much astonished that Lucy did not prefer him, because he was a much richer man than Pierce Marvel; and Miss Milly Harrison was also astonished that Mr. Marvel did not prefer her to such a country girl as Lucy, especially when she had a thousand pounds more to her fortune. But, notwithstanding all this astonishment, Marvel and his wife were perfectly happy.
It was now the fifth year after old Mr. Pearson’s death. Wright was at this time the richest of the three nephews; for the money that he had laid out in draining Holland fen began to bring him in twenty per cent. As to Marvel, he had exchanged some of his finest acres for the warren of silver sprigs, the common full of thistles, and the marsh full of reeds: he had lost many guineas by his sheep and their jackets, and many more by his ill-fenced plantations: so that counting all the losses from the failure of his schemes and the waste of his time, he was a thousand pounds poorer than when he first came into possession of Clover-hill.
Goodenough was not, according to the most accurate calculations, one shilling richer or poorer than when he first began the world. “Slow and sure,” said his friends: “fair and softly goes far in a day. What he has he’ll hold fast; that’s more than Marvel ever did, and may be more than Wright will do in the end. He dabbles a little in experiments, as he calls them: this he has learned from his friend Marvel; and this will come to no good.”
About this time there was some appearance of a scarcity in England; and many farmers set an unusual quantity of potatoes, in hopes that they would bear a high price the ensuing season. Goodenough, who feared and hated every thing that was called a speculation, declared that, for his part, he would not set a drill more than he used to do. What had always done for him and his should do for him still. With this resolution, he began to set his potatoes: Marvel said to him, whilst he was at work, “Cousin Goodenough, I would advise you not to set the shoots that are at the bottom of these potatoes; for, if you do, they won’t be good for any thing. This is a secret I learned last harvest home, from one of my Irish haymakers. I made the experiment last year, and found the poor fellow was quite right. I have given him a guinea for his information; and it will be worth a great deal more to me and my neighbours.”
“May be so,” said Goodenough; “but I shall set my own potatoes my own way, I thank you, cousin Marvel; for I take it the old way’s best, and I’ll never follow any other.”
Marvel saw that it was in vain to attempt to convince Goodenough: therefore he left him to his old ways. The consequence was, that Goodenongh and his family ate the worst potatoes in the whole country this year; and Marvel cleared above two hundred pounds by twenty acres of potatoes, set according to his friend the Irishman’s directions.
This was the first speculation of Marvel’s which succeeded; because it was the first which had been begun with prudence, and pursued with steadiness. His information, in the first instance, was good: it came from a person who had actually tried the experiment, and who had seen it made by others; and when he was convinced of the fact, he applied his knowledge at the proper time, boldly extended his experiment, and succeeded. This success raised him in the opinion even of his enemies. His friend, Wright, heartily rejoiced at it; but Goodenough sneered, and said to Wright, “What Marvel has gained this year he’ll lose by some scheme the next. I dare to say, now, he has some new scheme or another brewing in his brains at this very moment. Ay—look, here he comes, with two bits of rags in his hand.—Now for it!”
Marvel came up to them with great eagerness in his looks; and showing two freshly-dyed patterns of cloth, said, “Which of these two blues is the brightest?”
“That in your left hand,” said Wright; “it is a beautiful blue.”