Letters reached the cottage at frequent intervals after the Major's
return, in which as he breathed in every line his intense affection,
Clive fretted at the chain which still bound him to London.
For, as he explained at length, a heavy blow had been struck at the
mining company, bringing ruin upon those who had shown a want of faith,
though the stability of the property was not really stirred. The rumour
which had so rapidly spread had had its influence though, and time would
be needed before many people would believe in the truth, and it was for
the protection of the property, and to save other shareholders from
following the panic-stricken party, that Clive felt compelled to be in
town.
Then, too, he sent a shiver through Dinah, as he wrote to her about his
troubles at the mine.
"Misfortunes never come singly," he said. "As I daresay you have heard,
my foreman Sturgess has met with a nasty accident, and Robson, my clerk,
sends me word that he has been delirious and wandering a good deal. He
fell down one of the inner shafts where he could have no business, and
ought to be thankful that he escaped with his life. Now I do not want
to be exacting, darling, but if you could do any little thing to soften
the man's misfortune, I should be glad. He is an ill-conditioned
fellow, but he is my employe, and I want to do my duty by him as far as
I can."
Dinah, in her agony of spirit, wanted to rush off to her own room and
hide herself from the sight of all. For this appeal seemed more than
she could bear; but the Major was present, and at that moment spoke
about the contents of his own letter.
"Reed wants us to see and help his foreman, who is lying at one of the
cottages ill from a fall. We must do all we can, my dear. He's a good
fellow, is Clive. Very thoughtful of others. Dear, dear, if I had only
been a little more strong-minded."
"Have you suffered so very heavily, father?" said Dinah, who forced
herself to be calm and speak.
"Suffered! Oh, yes, my dear, in mind as well as pocket. You were
right, my child; he is all that is honourable and true. But it is very
humiliating--very lowering to the spirit of an old soldier."
"To find that you have mistrusted him, father?"
"Er--er--yes, my dear; but--but--there I will be frank with you. I did
not mean that."
"Father, you are keeping something from me."
"Yes, my dear, I am," said the Major hurriedly; "but Dinah, my dear, I
have not accepted yet. The fact is, I have lost all, my dear--at least
all but a beggarly pittance saved out of the wreck; and Clive--God bless
him for a true gentleman!"
Dinah's arms were round her father's neck, as the love-light shone in
her eyes, and she laid her cheek upon his shoulder.
"Well, yes, my dear, he is; and I suppose with all his simplicity and
want of ostentation he is very rich. His house in town is--ah, well,
never mind that! He insists upon giving me as many shares in the mine
as I fooled away."
"But you cannot accept them from him, dear father," cried Dinah, raising
her head, and looking at him anxiously.
"No, my darling, I told him so; that it would be a cruel humiliation;
and that I would never accept them."
"Yes; that was quite right, dearest," said Dinah, with her eyes
flashing.
"But he said--"
"Yes, what did he say?"
"That I was foolishly punctilious, that I was going to give him
something of more value than all the riches in the world, and that I
refused to take a fitting present from him."
The warm blood glowed in Dinah's cheeks, and there was a look of pride
and happiness in her eyes which were gradually softened by the gathering
tears.
"Yes, but you cannot take this, father dear!" she said softly. "It
would be humiliation to us both. If we are very poor, and Clive loves
me, he will love my dear father too. You must not take this, dear. It
would be doubly painful after mistrusting him as you did."
"Then I have done right," cried the Major cheerfully.
"You have refused."
"Yes. I was sorely tempted, my darling, for I felt how I was bringing
you down to poverty; that I was no longer in a position to--to--Oh, hang
it, Dinah," cried the old man, with the tears in his eyes, "I would
sooner march through a storm of bullets than go through this."
"Clive loves me for myself, dearest father," said Dinah, drawing his
convulsed face down upon her bosom, to hide the weak tears of
bitterness; "and it is not as if you were living in London. Our wants
are so few here, and there are the few hundred pounds which you have
often told me came from my dearest mother."
"No, no; that could not be touched," cried the Major, very firmly now.
"That was to be your wedding portion, child."
"There is no question of money between us, father," said Dinah proudly.
"I tell you again Clive loves me for myself, and there is a wedding
portion here within my heart that can never fail. No, dearest, you
cannot take this gift from my husband. You are rich in yourself as an
English gentleman, and with your honourable name."
A spasm shot through the Major, and his face contracted and looked
older.
"There," continued Dinah, "that is all at an end. Only we will
economise, and live more simply, dear. But tell me I am right."
"Always right, my darling," cried the Major. "There, you have taken a
heavy load from my breast. Hang it, yes, pet. We have our home and
garden, and there is my preserve. A bit of bread of old Martha's best,
and a dish of trout of my own catching, or a bird or two. Bah! who says
we're poor?"
"Who would not envy us for being so rich?" cried Dinah, smiling.
"To be sure. And when my lord of the mines comes down," cried the Major
merrily, "we'll be haughty with him, and let him see that it is a favour
to be allowed to partake of our hermitage fare, eh?"
"Yes, yes," cried Dinah, with childlike glee, though her eyes were still
wet with tears. "But, father dear," she faltered, "there is one thing I
want to say."
"Yes, my darling?"
"This man who is lying ill."
"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.