"Ahoy!" echoed the old man. "Come down."

Geoffrey descended, to find a ruddy fire burning, and a quaint old copper kettle singing in the hottest place.

"I thought you'd come down and have a pipe and a drop o' brandy before you went back, my lad," said the old man, in his grim, gruff way. "Sit down on yon tub. There's some good tobacco there."

"Ah, that looks sociable," said Geoffrey, who was at heart a very gregarious animal. "I want to talk to you about terms."

"What, for the mine?" said the old man, sharply.

"No: for lodgings, if you'll have such a bad character in the house as I."

"Been talking to them?" said the old fellow.

"Yes; and they are quite willing. Are you?"

"Oh, ay, I'm willing enough," said Prawle, roughly. "I like bad characters," he chuckled. "We're all bad characters here--so they say."

"Then I shall be in the right place," said Geoffrey, cynically. "But come, what shall I pay you?"

"Whatever the old woman thinks right, my lad," said the old man, who, in spite of his grim ways, seemed to glance with favouring eyes at his visitor. "Sattle it with that poor soul up yonder, and pay her the bit of money regular. Let her think--hold that gla.s.s upright while I pour in the hot water--now help yourself to the brandy. Never paid duty in its life," he whispered, grinning.

Geoffrey poured in the spirit, and helped himself to the sugar. The old man mixed for himself, tasted, nodded, and went on--

"Let her think, poor soul, that she's saving and helping to pay for her keep, and it will make her happy. Better than selling sweets."

"That's settled then, Father Prawle?"

"Sattled," said the old man, holding out a great, gnarled hand, and giving Geoffrey's a tremendous grip. "We don't want the bra.s.s, but it pleases her."

"And I may come down here and smoke a pipe when I like?"

"Ay, ay, my lad, and welcome," said old Prawle. "You'll find the brandy in the locker here, and the key's always up on that ledge of rock yonder in the niche, and the matches are over t'other side there in that one.

There's always plenty of wreck-wood for a bit of fire, and I keep the breaker there full of fresh water."

"Good," said Geoffrey, smiling. "Then I shall come to-morrow, Father Prawle, and the world may say what it likes."

"That for the world!" cried the old man, contemptuously exhaling a great puff of smoke. "The world's called me wrecker, smuggler, and thief.

The world has called my bonnie la.s.s there witch. Let it. I'm a rough old fellow, Master Trethick, and I'd ha' knocked you down at one time-- I'd ha' throwed you over the cliff at one time, 'fore I knowed you; but you stood up like a man for my bonnie la.s.s there, and you've said a many kind word to my poor creetur up yonder, and there's my hand."

He held out the great gnarled fist again, and Geoffrey took it and had his own tightly gripped.

"I don't care for what people say," growled the old fellow. "This place is mine, and I could buy a dozen such if I liked. You're welcome, my lad, as long as you like, and when you care to go I can give you as good a bit o' fishing as a man could have, and as good a drop of brandy and bit of tobacco. As to Mullion's la.s.s, that's no affair o' mine, and I sha'n't make it any affair o' mine; but it's as fine a little youngster as I ever see."

Geoffrey's countenance, that had been glowing from the joint effects of the warmth of the fire and old Prawle's hospitable words, grew dark once more; but he sat chatting to the old man for another hour, and then returned to the office by the mine.

The next day Carnac society had another shock right to the centre, and Miss Pavey was outraged in her tenderest feelings by the news which she heard, and which she hastened to take to An Morlock, namely, that that wicked young man had now joined poor lost Madge Mullion at the Cove.

At night old Mr Paul heard the news as well, as he tottered through the place by the help of his stick, and he went back home, and smoked the first cheroot he had smoked for days, to tell Mrs Mullion; and the news had somewhat the colour of hope in the poor, sad mother's eyes.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

OAK AND WILLOW.

Mr Chynoweth was in very good spirits one morning, for he had composed a letter, offering his hand and fortune to Miss Pavey, entirely to his satisfaction. It was written in a large engrossing hand upon superfine brief paper, and had the legal look that a doc.u.ment of so much importance ought to wear.

"I think that will do it," said Mr Chynoweth. "Her little income and my little income will make a big income; and with rubbers regularly three times a week, we ought to add something to the common fund."

So rubbing his hands with satisfaction, he proceeded to play a quiet game in his desk, which he had just finished as Mr Penwynn came in, when Mr Chynoweth referred to his slate, and told him where Geoffrey had gone to lodge.

"It is nothing to me," said the banker, "so long as he does his work.

Any thing fresh?"

"No, sir, nothing. He has been here this morning, and said there was little to report. He says all his efforts to relieve the mine are useless; that hardly any thing can be done."

"Tell him when he comes again that he must do something. I must call in fresh help if he is too ignorant to free the mine from water."

He might have called in the help of half the engineers in England, but they could not have shown him a satisfactory means of battling with the huge rush of water that entered the gap blown out by the wretched man.

For beneath the sea there was always a torrent ready to take the place of any that might be pumped out, and, after endless investigations, Geoffrey Trethick and Pengelly gazed at each other in despair.

It was bitterly tantalising. Here was the rich tin ore waiting for them in abundance, but no means of reaching and sending it up.

They examined the sh.o.r.e. Went out in boats and sounded. Took into consideration the possibility of throwing in sand bags over the chasm, but on such a coast they would have been tossed aside by the first storm; and the despair at Geoffrey Trethick's heart grew blacker.

They were bitter times too, for Mr Penwynn. On the strength of the success, John Tregenna had presented himself, made a claim, and been handsomely paid off by the banker, who, wishing to be on good terms with the man he had formerly disappointed and being then in the full flush of triumph, had paid Tregenna double the amount agreed upon, and now he was too proud to demand it back, though it would have been a useless proceeding if he had.

Large as was the sum he drew, Tregenna had been terribly wroth, but when the news came to him of the flooding of the mine he sat and gloated over his success, and laughed to himself till he began to think of the man Lannoe, his tool, and of the possibility of getting rid of him in some plausible way, so as to be sure of being free from demands for black mail.

Then the days pa.s.sed with more good news. It was certain, he knew, that Geoffrey had been dismissed from visiting at An Morlock, news that was delightful in its way. Then Lannoe did not come, though he was expecting him day after day, till a strange feeling of hope began to grow into a certainty, and at last he felt sure that the man had lost his life in his nefarious attempt.

Lastly came to him the information that Geoffrey Trethick had gone to lodge with the Prawles; and John Tregenna laughed aloud as he thought once more of Rhoda, and of the time when he could renew his pretensions, and this time, perhaps, with better success.

The days wore on, and finding that nothing could be done in the way of pumping out the mine, Geoffrey and Pengelly spent their time in the top galleries, to which the water had not reached, searching in vain for something in the way of reward.

The former found his bad character seemed to have but little effect upon the poorer people of Carnac, even though Miss Pavey in her visiting said that he was a terrible wretch, and ought to be excommunicated by the church. His worst failing in the eyes of the people was his going to lodge at Prawle's, and unwittingly in this he had done poor Madge an ill turn, for the news reached the cottage just at a time when old Paul had settled that Mrs Mullion should fetch her daughter home. When this news came he bade her wait.

So time went on, and from the poorer folk there was always a shake or a nod as Geoffrey pa.s.sed, and now and then an offering of fish from Tom Jennen or some other rough fellow with whom he had spent a night out in the bay.

He was pa.s.sing along the road one day, in a very morose humour, when he came full upon the Reverend Edward Lee, and was about to pa.s.s him with a short nod, but the vicar stopped.

"How are you?" said Geoffrey, shortly.

"Not well, Trethick," said the vicar, holding out his hand, to the other's great surprise.

"Sorry for it," said Geoffrey, grimly, shaking hands. "What is it-- bile?"

The vicar looked at him with a pained expression of countenance.