"What, sir?"

"My dear Major, life among the Derby Dales has made you extremely unbusiness-like."

"Yes, sir, an easy victim," cried the Major angrily. "To panic: yes.

There, let us end this painful business."

"Yes, sir, I understand," cried the Major, springing up; "let us end this painful business. I understand, and I am going. G.o.d forgive you, Clive Reed, for I never can."

"You have nothing to forgive," said Clive gravely, as he met the Major's angry gaze with his clear, penetrating eyes. "Once for all, believe me; this is a rumour set about by schemers. The `White Virgin' is immaculate and growing richer day by day."

"But my brokers a.s.sured me that the case was hopeless."

"Your brokers, sir, derived their information on 'Change. I, who speak to you from my own experience, and from that of my dear dead father, give you my opinion based upon something tangible--the mine itself.

Does poor Dinah know of all this?"

"Sir, I have no secrets from my child."

"What did she say?"

"Say? What would a weak woman say?" cried the Major contemptuously.

"You have done your work well there."

"She trusted me and told you to believe?"

The Major's brows knitted tightly.

"G.o.d bless her!" cried Clive, with his face lighting up, and his eyes softening. "I knew she would; and come, sir, you will trust me too. I am so sorry. One of my dearest old friends has ruined himself over the wretched business."

"You are right, sir," said the Major. "I have."

"I did not mean you," said Clive, smiling; "but Doctor Praed. He actually accepted the news as true, let himself be swept along on the flood of the panic, and sold out to some scheming scoundrel who, for aught I know, may be at the bottom of all this." The angry flush began to die out of the Major's face, leaving it in patches of a clayey white.

"If I could only bring it home to the scoundrel--but it would be impossible. I hear that he has been buying heavily and for a mere nothing. But I'm glad you came to me first. Stop--you said you had heard from your brokers."

"Yes, sir; I went to my brokers at once."

"Major!" cried Clive excitedly, as a sadden thought flashed through his brain. "Good Heavens! Surely you have not sold your shares?"

The Major was silent, for at last the younger man's tones had carried conviction.

"You have?"

The Major nodded, and looked ghastly now.

"Then you have thrown away thousands," cried Clive angrily. "There was not a share to be had when you bought. They were mine--my very own, that no other man in England should have had at any price. Why didn't you come to me? How could you be so mad?"

"Then--then it really is a false report?" faltered the Major.

"False as h.e.l.l," cried Clive, who now strode up and down the room in turn, his brow knit, and eyes flashing. "How could you be so weak--how could you be so mad? The scoundrels! The cowardly villains. Oh, Major, Major, you should have trusted me."

There was a tap at the door, and the Major took out his handkerchief, and made a feint to blow his nose loudly, as he surrept.i.tiously wiped the great drops from his brow.

"Come in," cried Clive; and the servant entered with a number of newspapers.

"The evening papers, sir."

Clive caught them up one by one, and pointed out letter and advertis.e.m.e.nt denying the truth of the rumour, and denouncing it as a financial trick to depreciate the value of the shares.

"But it will not stop the panic," said Clive sadly. "People will believe the lie, and turn away from the truth. I have given instructions to buy up every share that is offered, but I find that a Mr Wrigley is buying up all he can get."

"Yes," said the Major faintly. "I believe he is the man who bought mine."

"Tchah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Clive. "Yes, it is a conspiracy for certain.

There: write a message and send off at once to Dinah. Tell her it is as she believed, only a rumour, and that everything is right."

"Everything wrong, you mean," groaned the Major. "How can I write that?"

"Because everything will be all right, sir. You do not think I am going to let my dearest wife's father suffer for an error of judgment?"

"No, no," groaned the Major, "I cannot lower--I cannot--G.o.d in Heaven!

how could I have been such a fool."

"Because, my dear sir," said Clive, patting his shoulder affectionately, "you are not quite perfect. There, send the message at once. Poor darling! She must be in agony."

The Major's face went down upon his hands.

"Send it--you--you can write--"

"It shall be in your name then," said Clive, and he dashed off the missive. "There." Turning to the Major, he took his hands. "Come, sir, look me in the eyes, and tell me you believe now that I am an honest man."

"I--I cannot look you in the face, Clive," murmured the Major huskily.

"For Heaven's sake, don't humble me any more."

"Humble you, sir? not I. There, that is all past. Never mind the shares. Why, my dear sir, I have never made any boast of it, but my poor father left me immensely rich, and my tastes are very simple. I am obliged to work for others, and, as I told you, it was his wish that the mine should stand high, and stand high it shall. There, our darling will soon be at rest. You and I will have dinner together here, and enjoy a bottle of the father's claret. To-morrow morning you shall go down home again.--Yes, what is it?"

"Mr Belton, sir."

"Show him in directly."

"A moment. Let me go," cried the Major.

"No, no, I want you to know Mr Belton, my father's old solicitor and friend."

"Here I am, Clive, my boy," cried the old gentleman, entering mopping his face. "Oh, I thought you were alone."

"Better than being alone," said Clive; "this is a very dear friend of mine--Major Gurdon. I want you to know each other."

"Any friend of Clive Reed's, sir, is my friend," said the old lawyer rather stiffly; but there was a look of pleasure in his eyes, as he shook hands with the Major, who greeted him with this touch, for he could not trust himself to speak.