"Yes, yes. We must do all we can."

"No, father," she said, speaking more firmly now. "We cannot go to him."

"Eh! Why not?"

"Because--because," faltered Dinah, with her voice sounding husky. Then growing strong, and her eyes looking hard and glittering, "Soon after he came down here, he began to follow me about."

"What! The scoundrel!" roared the Major.

"And one day he spoke to me--and insulted me."

"The dog--the miserable hound. But--here, Dinah--why was I not told of this?"

"Because, dear--I thought it better--I felt that I could not speak--I--"

"Ah, but Clive shall know of this. But you have told him? Why has he not dismissed the hound?"

"No, I have not told Clive, father--not any one. Some day I must tell him--but not now."

"Really, my darling!" cried the Major, whose face was flushed, and the veins were starting in his forehead.

"Father, this is very, very painful to me, your child," she pleaded; "and I beg--I pray that you will say no more."

"What! not have him punished?"

"No; not now. He is punished, dearest. But we cannot go to his help."

"Help," cried the Major furiously. "I should kill him."

Dinah laid her hands upon his breast, and at last he bent down and kissed her.

"May I tell Clive when he comes?"

"No, dearest," said Dinah, in quite a whisper, and with her face very pale now, while her voice was almost inaudible; "that must come from me."

The Major frowned, and kissed his child's pale face, prior to making another grievous mistake in his troubled life.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

THE EXPLOSION.

There was joy in the little cottage by the swiftly running river one day about a fortnight later, when a shadow was cast across the window; and with a cry of delight Dinah looked up from her work and saw that Clive Reed had approached silently, and was gazing in.

The next moment she was nestling in his strong arms, responding to his kisses, and feeling once more safe, protected, and that there was nothing more to fear or wish for in life.

"Don't laugh at me," she whispered, as she drew him farther in with the blood flushing in her cheeks, and her hands trembling, lest her abandonment in her ecstasy of delight had been seen.

"Why not?" cried Clive. "I feel as if I could melt away into smiles and laughter--there's a beautiful idea, pet--in the joy I feel at being back--at holding you in these great rough arms, at feeling safe, and that you had not forgotten me and run away with some fine handsome fellow while I was gone."

"Clive!"

"Well, I do. I'm quite boyish--childish--oh, my darling, have I got you here in my arms once more?"

There was no doubt of it, for timid and shrinking now, Dinah kissed him gravely upon the forehead, and then gently and firmly shrank from his strong embrace.

"Where is the Major?" he cried.

"He has taken his satchel and geological hammer, and gone for a long walk."

"Without you?"

"Yes; that is why I said, don't laugh at me, and you stopped me from saying more. Clive--I felt that you would come this morning."

"Ah, and how much sooner I should have been, but for the miserable worry of the company's affairs. There, I will not worry you about that, and I am glad to say that I found Sturgess rapidly getting well. But he had a nasty accident. And how's dear old Martha?"

"Quite well. She has been talking about you and longing to see you every day."

"Bless her. And you. Oh, my darling, you look more beautiful than ever!"

"Clive!"

"You do. More sweet, more lovable. Oh, Dinah, there was never such a happy fellow before. This place is a paradise after grimy old London, and--oh, here is the Major, I can hear his step."

Dinah turned pale.

"That is not his step," she said, as she looked excitedly toward the window.

Clive rose, went to it, and looked out.

"Why, it's Robson," he cried. "Hang it! I hope there is nothing wrong.

I'll go and meet him." Before he was outside Dinah was after him, and she hurriedly placed her hand upon his arm.

"Eh? Well, come with me then, pet. I have no secrets from you.--Well, Robson, what's the matter? Sturgess worse?"

"No, sir, but you are wanted over yonder directly."

"Wanted?"

"Yes, sir, there's a party of gentlemen come down."

"What--visitors? Oh, hang them; they want to see the mine, I suppose?"

"No, sir. They say they've come to take possession."

"What?"

"I suppose they're bailiffs, sir."

"And I suppose you're a confounded fool!" cried Clive angrily. "That mine does not owe a penny!"