It was four o'clock the next morning before Geoffrey went softly up the
gravel path to the cottage, and, weary and sick at heart, let himself
in.
His clothes had partly dried upon him during his walk, for he had
fetched Dr Rumsey from his house to attend poor Madge, the doctor being
very quiet and saying little, Geoffrey thought, after hearing a few
explanations.
"She seems to have been very unhappy at home," said Geoffrey, "and they
quarrelled with her, I think. She must have been half-mad."
"And did she really try to drown herself?" said the doctor.
"I wouldn't answer the question," replied Geoffrey; "but you, being a
doctor, ought to know all--so I tell you, yes. She really did, and--
pray hurry, old fellow: we may be too late."
"I am hurrying all I can, Trethick," said the doctor; "but I must get in
with some breath left in my body."
"Yes, of course; but could I do any good if I ran on first?"
"No, not a bit. Bessie Prawle, you say, is with her. Poor lass--poor
lass!"
"So I say, with all my soul, doctor. But I would not put it abroad what
has happened."
"These affairs tell their own tale, Trethick," said the doctor.
"Yes, yes, of course; but I'd keep it as quiet as I could."
"I am no scandal-monger, Trethick," said the doctor, dryly; and they
hurried on, Geoffrey waiting outside, and walking up and down with old
Prawle while Mr Rumsey went in.
At the end of a quarter of an hour he came to the door with a paper.
"Prawle," he said, "will you go to my house and give that to my wife?"
"I'll take it," said Geoffrey, eagerly. "I'm going home."
"You will have to bring something back," said the doctor.
"All right: I'll lose no time," he said, cheerily; and he started off,
and had to wait while Mrs Rumsey obtained the bottles from the surgery,
sending them and a graduated glass for the doctor to mix himself.
This done, there was the walk back to Gwennas, and then Geoffrey waited
for the doctor, who kept coming out for a stroll in the cool starlight,
and then returning.
"I've been thinking that I ought to send you for Mrs Mullion,
Trethick."
"What! Is she in danger?"
"No; oh, no, poor lass; she'll be better soon. You are going to wait
about, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes," said Geoffrey; "you may want me to fetch something more, and
I'll wait to walk back with you."
The doctor went in, and old Prawle came up from below and touched him on
the arm.
"Come and sit down here," he said, gruffly. "I've lit a fire below."
"Well, I am cold," said Geoffrey; and he followed the old man down into
a rough cave in the rock, where he kept old nets, a boat, and various
pieces of fishing gear. A bright fire of wreck-wood was burning, and to
this, with a shiver, Geoffrey walked up, whereupon the old man took a
bottle out of a battered sea-chest, whose outside was splintered by the
rocks in coming ashore, and poured him out a little spirit in a chipped
and footless glass, frosted by the attrition of the sand in which it had
been found.
"Smuggled?" said Geoffrey, with a smile.
"Drink it, and don't ask questions, my lad."
"Your health, Father Prawle," said Geoffrey, tossing it down. "It was
rude. By George! what nectar. It puts life in a fellow. Shall we hear
the doctor when he comes out?"
"Yes, don't be afeard, man, sit down," said the old fellow. "I'm going
to smoke."
"I'll join you," said Geoffrey, "if you have any tobacco. Mine's
soaked."
"Oh, yes," said the old man. "I've passed many a night in sea-soaked
clothes, but it won't hurt you, my lad. Here's some tobacco."
"I hope not," said Geoffrey, taking the tobacco, filling, and lighting
his pipe.
"You got her out of the water then, eh?"
"Yes," said Geoffrey, shortly.
"Poor lass!"
Geoffrey nodded acquiescence, and they smoked for some time in silence.
"It is very kind of Miss Prawle to take her in and attend her," said
Geoffrey at last; "but I'm sure poor Madge Mullion will be very
grateful."
"My Bess arn't made of stone," said the old man, gruffly, as he sat
staring hard across the ruddy fire, whose smoke went up through a rift.
Then, re-filling the glass, he handed it to Geoffrey, who drank gladly
of the spirit at the time; after which the old man refreshed himself,
put on some more driftwood, and stared at his visitor.
"I should have liked to hold some shares in that mine," he said.
"Yes, you ought to have had some, Father Prawle. Hush! was that the
doctor?"
"No, only the washing of the sea in the rock holes. Maybe you'll get me
some of those shares. I can pay for them."
"There is not one to be had, Father Prawle," replied Geoffrey.
"Maybe you'll sell me some of yours, Master Trethick. I'll pay you
well."
"Mine!" cried Geoffrey, laughing. "I don't hold one."
The old man looked at him very keenly, and then let his eyes fall.
"If you would really like to have some," said Geoffrey, "and I see a
chance, I'll secure them for you."
"Do, my lad. I'm doing you a good turn here without asking questions."
"And I'm very grateful to you," said Geoffrey; "very grateful."
"Then do me a good turn."
"Because you were so free in telling me all about the mine?"
"Let that bide, Master Trethick," said the old man. "But, look here, I
will tell you now, if you'll get me a lot of shares."
"It's too late, man--too late."
"Nay, but it isn't. You get me shares, and you'll see. I worked in yon
mine."
"And did not make the proprietors' fortune," said Geoffrey, with a
smile.
"Nobody tried to make mine," growled the old fellow, "and they treated
me like a dog. I had to think of self. Look here, Mas'r Trethick, I
hated you when you come here, for I thought you meant my Bess."
"I know you did," said Geoffrey.
"But I don't think so now, and I tell you this. You get me shares, and
it'll be worth thousands to you. Get shares yourself too; and mind
this, you've got to take care of your enemy."
"And who's that?"
The old man chuckled, and pointed with his pipe-stem out of the mouth of
the cave, looking curiously weird and picturesque in the glow of the
fire, with the black, uncouth shadows of the pieces of wreck-wood and
boat-gear behind.
"I don't understand you," said Geoffrey.
"The sea, boy--the water's your enemy, so look out."
"I will," said Geoffrey; and then they smoked and chatted on, the old
man going up three or four times to see if the doctor was ready to go;
and at last, soon after three, he came back, looking more grim than
ever, and not to trim the fire this time.
"Doctor will come in five minutes," he said, gruffly. "Will you have
any more brandy?"
"No, thanks, no," said his visitor.
"There, mind this, boy, get me shares, and get some yourself, but keep
it secret from every one."
"I'll help you if I can," said Geoffrey, "for old acquaintance' sake;
but your promise of news comes too late."
"Nay, nay, we'll see, we'll see," said the old man. "But look here,
Master Trethick, are you going to marry that gal?"
"What, Miss Mullion? No."
"Ho!" said the old man, gruffly.
"Now, Trethick," came from above; and Geoffrey hastily made his way up
the rugged steps to where the doctor was waking.
"How is she?" he cried eagerly.
"Better: going on well," said the doctor, shortly.
"And in no danger?"
"None whatever, if she is kept quiet, and her mind set at ease."
"Poor lass, I'll do all I can," said Geoffrey, earnestly. "I'll have a
long talk to Mrs Mullion and Paul in the morning--well, it is morning
now--after breakfast. I'll soon set it right. I think I can."
"That's well," said the doctor, as they walked on along the dark path.
"You seem tired," said Geoffrey, for the doctor was singularly reserved.
"Very."
"So am I."
There was another silence for some time.
"What are you thinking about, doctor?" said Geoffrey, at last.
"About Madge Mullion. Look here, Trethick, I like you--"
"Thanky, doctor, I like you, and I'm glad you've taken my hint about
those shares."
"Hang the shares!" said the doctor. "Let me finish what I was going to
say."
"Go ahead."
"Damn it, man, don't be so cool and unconcerned."
"All right," said Geoffrey.
"I say I like you for some things, Trethick, and I'm by profession
tolerably hard and callous; but it frets me, sir, to have seen that poor
girl lying there, after trying in her despair to throw away her life,
and you as cool and cavalier as can be."
"Well," said Geoffrey, laughing, "I may be calm, but I was not, though,
when I fetched you. As to my coolness, I haven't changed my wet things
after getting nearly drowned to save her, and I'm cheery because you
told me there was no danger."
"No, but she's very ill. And as to your saving the poor lass, it was no
more than your duty. You needn't brag about that."
"I don't brag, doctor, so you need not be so peppery. I say, calling
you up in the night don't improve your temper."
"Hang it, Trethick, don't be a brute," cried the doctor. "I've known
you nearly nine months, and I never liked you less than now."
"Thankye, doctor, but you'll be better when you've had your breakfast.
Come, don't let's part huffily. I am sorry I had to call you up, but
you must charge extra."
"Look here, Trethick," said the doctor, who was now regularly roused by
the other's coolness, "we don't set ourselves up out here for a
particularly moral people, but, hang it all, we have got hearts, and
when a wrong is done to any one we try to repair it."
"Yes, and a very good plan, too," said Geoffrey. "Why, doctor, you're
as huffy as can be."
"Trethick! There, I can't keep it back," cried the doctor, the last
words having let loose the flood of his wrath. "How a man who is not a
callous scoundrel can treat this affair so coolly, I don't know."
"I don't treat it coolly," cried Geoffrey, surprised at the other's
warmth.
"You do, sir; your conduct is blackguardly--cruel in the extreme. Have
you no heart at all?"
"Plenty, I hope," cried Geoffrey, now growing warm in turn. "Look here,
doctor, I don't allow any man to call me a scoundrel and blackguard,
without saying a word in reply. Please explain what you mean."
"What do I mean, sir; why, that poor girl."
"Well, what about her?"
The doctor stopped short in the dark upon that shelf of cliff, and faced
Geoffrey.
"Look here! are you a fool, or a knave, or a scoundrel, Trethick, or all
three?" he cried, angrily.
"If you dare to say--Bah?" cried Geoffrey, "I won't quarrel. You're
hipped, doctor--tired--upset--but don't call a man names. It stirs up a
fellow's bile, as old Paul says."
The doctor panted in his anger, for calm, peaceable Dr Rumsey seemed
quite transformed.
"And you can talk like this?" he cried, "with that poor girl, the mother
of your new-born child, lying an outcast from her home!"
"_What_?" roared Geoffrey, catching at the doctor's arm.
"He is a fool!" exclaimed Dr Rumsey; and, wrenching away his arm, he
strode off towards the town, leaving Geoffrey staring as if he were
stunned.
He was stunned mentally, and for a few minutes he felt as if he could
not collect his thoughts. Then his first impulse was to run after the
doctor.
"Oh, it's too absurd," he cried; and at last, sick at heart, uneasy, and
disgusted with his late companion, and not even yet fully realising his
position in the tragedy of the night, he walked stiffly up to the
cottage, hesitated for a few moments as to whether he should enter, and
ended by letting himself in, and going to his room, to try and secure a
few hours' rest.