There was one man, though, who seemed to be hunting Geoffrey about from place to place, but he avoided him in his anger.

"I know what he wants to say to me," he cried, "and, by George! I won't have it. I never did strike any one wearing the cloth, but I'm in that aggravated state of mind just now that if he did speak to me, and begin to preach, I should hit him."

It is needless to say that the man he avoided was the vicar.

"Reverend Master Lee has been here again, sir," said Amos Pengelly to him one morning, "and I said you'd be here soon, and he's coming again."

"Then I won't see him," cried Geoffrey, angrily. "Look here, Pengelly, I'm not going to be driven out of Carnac. People are sending me to Coventry, and are trying to aggravate me into going, but I sha'n't go."

"No, sir, I wouldn't go," said Pengelly, quietly. "I'd stay here and put the mine right, and then make amends."

Trethick turned upon him fiercely, but Pengelly did not shrink, and the young man uttered an impatient "pish!"

"Look here, Pengelly, I must have lodgings somewhere. What am I to do?

I'm not a dog to live in this kennel of an office."

"You can share my place if you like."

"No, no; I told you I would not."

"I was talking to Mrs Prawle about it last even, sir."

"What! you were over at the Cove?" said Geoffrey, eagerly. "How was poor Madge?"

"Very sadly, sir, they say. You haven't been over for some days."

"I? No, of course not," said Geoffrey, sharply. "What should I do there?"

"Mrs Prawle said that if you could not get a better place, they had their little parlour and the one room out of it to spare; and Bessie said she would tend you if you liked."

"But, hang it, man! I couldn't go there," cried Geoffrey.

"I don't see why, sir," said Pengelly, simply. "I couldn't go there now, or I'd give up my place to you, but you could."

"Oh, no--impossible!"

"They're wonderfully clean people, sir," continued Pengelly, "and, though the furnishing's humble, they'd make you very comfortable, for old Master Prawle's seldom in the house, and it's little you'd want it for except for your breakfast and to sleep."

"But that poor girl's there," cried Geoffrey.

"I don't see why that should make any difference, sir," said Pengelly.

"I was talking to Bessie about it after Mrs Prawle had spoken, and I went against it; but she said it would be quite right, and hoped you would go."

"Indeed!" said Geoffrey. "I say, Pengelly, how many times have you been there lately?"

"Every night, sir. It come of my taking a message, and money, and a parcel, from Mistress Mullion up at the cottage; for, though she can't have her child back, because of old Mr Paul, her heart's very sore about her, and she sends there every day."

"And so you and Miss Bessie have been talking matters over, eh?"

"Yes, sir. I'm a poor fellow to go to a woman's eye, but I'd try very hard to go to her heart," said the miner, simply.

"I did not mean that, Pengelly," said Geoffrey, smiling. "I meant about my matters."

"Oh yes, sir, a deal; and if you can't get elsewhere, I'd go there."

The miner went off about his work, and Geoffrey began to think over what had been proposed.

"Oh, no; it would be madness to go there. It would be giving colour to the report;" and he dismissed the idea from his mind. But that evening, as he sat at the office-door upon the bleak, wind-swept promontory, with the remnants of a cheerless meal, brought him by one of the miners'

wives, upon the desk behind him, and the prospect of a night upon the bench beside the door, with a rolled-up coat for a pillow, his thoughts went back to the cottage at Gwennas, and he had to light a pipe to try and soothe himself, so bitter were his feelings.

"It's too bad--a thousand times too bad for any thing," he cried, as he gazed out to sea at the ever-darkening waves, now beginning to glitter with the reflections from the stars above.

"'Pon my soul, I'm the most unlucky fellow that ever breathed, and it's miserable living like this. Suppose I go to old Prawle's? I could sit with him down in his cave, and smoke, and drink smuggled liquor. I'm a drunkard by reputation, so why not indulge?

"I like poor old Mrs Prawle--and Bessie. Good la.s.s."

He had a long, quiet think, and then burst out into a cynical laugh.

"What would Carnac say if I went there?"

And directly after, in a hard fit of stubborn opposition,--

"What does Carnac say now? d.a.m.n Carnac. I will go, and they may say and think what they will."

He had worked himself up into such a fit of pa.s.sion, that for fear he should cool down, and let himself back out of what he looked upon as a bit of revenge upon the scandal-loving place, he started off at once, reached the cliff, and walked swiftly along to the Cove, where, as he came to the rapid descent, he stopped short to gaze at the place below.

On a stone outside the door, which was open, and from which came forth a soft flood of light, sat old Prawle, smoking away, with the bowl of his short black pipe glowing in the twilight like a star, while leaning against the door-post, with something in her arms, was Bessie Prawle, rocking herself to and fro, and singing an old Cornish ditty in a sweet, wild voice.

"By George!" said Geoffrey, softly, "I'd forgotten the bairn."

He stood there watching that scene and listening to Bessie's song for some time, and it set him thinking of women and children, and of what strength there is in their weakness to alter the journey of life. Then he thought of the suffering girl inside, lying there helpless and forsaken in her sorest time of need; and lastly he thought he would go back and try and furnish up the office and make it habitable, but just then a gruff voice hailed him with a rough--

"Hallo!"

"Hallo, Father Prawle!" he cried, and he went down, Bessie retiring into the cottage as he came into sight, "What's the news about the mine?"

said the old man.

"Bad," was the reply. "Don't go away, Miss Bessie. How is your patient?"

"Not well, Mr Trethick," she said, coming back and standing before him with the baby in her arms, and gazing firmly and unshrinkingly in his face.

"I'm sorry. Poor la.s.s!" he said. "May I come in?"

Bessie drew back, and he stooped and entered the room, where poor invalid Mrs Prawle was seated; and half an hour after the affair was so far decided that he had been referred to old Prawle himself to settle terms.

The old man had descended the rock-hewn steps to his bit of a cavern, from which came up the loud crackling of wood, while a ruddy glow shone out on the darkened rocks.

"Ahoy, there!" shouted Geoffrey.