"I really can hardly tell," returned Sir John Newark; "for, though he is a distant relation of mine, we have not held much communication together for many years. France or Lorraine, I believe, was the last country in which he was heard of." "I think I do remember," remarked Smeaton, in a musing tone, "having heard the name mentioned at Nancy. But they said he had gone to seek his fortunes amongst the Spaniards in the New World. Somerville--yes, that was the name surely." "Ay, very probable," said Sir John Newark. "I think a rumour of his intention reached me. You never were in those golden countries yourself, were you?" "Never," replied Smeaton. "The journey is somewhat far; and, as I am well contented with what I have, I feel no inclination to banish myself from civilization in pursuit of wealth." "I should like to see the country where gold grows," observed Sir John Newark's son, looking earnestly at Smeaton. "If I were a lord in golden land, I would give you a whole tree." "Thank you, my dear lad," said Smeaton, laughing. "I fear, however, I should have some difficulty in eating the fruit of that tree." "Why, golden pippins--they would be golden pippins!" cried the boy, clapping his hands at the thought. "I wish I had some now; but they are not ripe yet." The conversation then took another turn. Sir John Newark became actually gay and jocular, pressed upon Smeaton his invitation to his house at Ale, and did not depart till he had obtained from him a conditional promise to go down and spend a fortnight with him, if he determined to remain any time in England. He shook his new friend by the hand, at parting, with considerable warmth; but there was a degree of hearty cordiality in the boy's grasp of Smeaton's hand, which pleased him better. "You must and shall come down," said the boy, in a whisper; "and I'll show you all the coves and the paths among the rocks and over the cliffs, where nobody ever perches but I, and the sea-mews, and the fishing-hawks. Old Jones Skinner, the smuggler, broke his neck there; and people are afraid ever since; but you are not afraid of anything, I am sure." "I trust not," answered Smeaton; and thus they parted. When they were gone, Van Noost, who had been, for him, remarkably silent and reserved, broke forth, upon the character of Sir John Newark. "Take care what you do with him, my Lord," he said. "He is not much to be trusted; and, for Heaven's sake, do not let him know your real name. First he has been one thing, then he has been another, just as he thought it served his own interest. He was once very great with Sunderland, in the old King's reign, and with the Duke of Shrewsbury too. Then he paid court to the Duke of Marlborough; and then he was one of Bolingbroke's men. I don't know whether he is a good enemy or not; but I am certain he is not a good friend. He is shrewd, mighty shrewd too, and has contrived to amass great wealth, and gain large estates, by not the fairest means, they say."