"Yes."
"That will do, ma'am," he said, drawing in his breath with a low hiss;
and, rising and walking to the window, he took no further notice of his
visitor, who gladly escaped from the room.
A few minutes later he rang the bell.
"Send down and see if Dr Rumsey is at home," he said.
The servant glanced at him to see if he was ill, left the room, and in
half an hour the doctor was closeted with the banker in his study.
"I'm a little feverish, Rumsey," said Mr Penwynn, quietly; "write me
out a prescription for a saline draught."
Dr Rumsey asked him a question or two, and wrote out the prescription.
The banker took it, and passed over a guinea, which the doctor
hesitated to take.
"Put it in your pocket, Rumsey," said his patient, dryly. "Never refuse
money. That's right. Now I have a question or two to ask you."
"About the mine, Mr Penwynn?" cried the doctor, piteously. "Yes, every
shilling of my poor wife's money! Five hundred pounds. But I ought to
have known better, and shall never forget it. Is there any hope?"
"I don't know," said the banker, coldly. "But it was not that I wanted
to ask you. It was about Geoffrey Trethick."
"Curse Geoffrey Trethick for a smooth-tongued, heartless, brazen
scoundrel!" cried the doctor, rising from his general calm state to a
furious burst of passion. "The money's bad enough. He swore to me, on
his word of honour, that the mine would be a success, and I let myself
be deceived, for I thought him honest. Now he has come out in his true
colours."
"That report about him then is true?"
"True," cried the doctor, bitterly, "as true as truth; and a more
heartless scoundrel I never met."
"He denies it, I suppose?"
"Denies it? Of course: as plausibly as if he were as innocent as the
little babe itself. That poor woman, Mrs Mullion, is broken-hearted,
and old Paul will hardly get over it. He has had a fit since."
"Is--is there any doubt, Rumsey?" said Mr Penwynn, sadly.
"Not an atom," replied the doctor. "He has been my friend, and I've
trusted and believed in him. I'd forgive him the affair over the
shares, but his heartless cruelty here is disgusting--hush!--Miss
Penwynn!"
Rhoda had opened the door to join her father, when, seeing the doctor
there, she drew back, but she heard his last words.
"I won't keep you, Rumsey. That will do," said Mr Penwynn, and, as the
doctor rose to go, he turned to the banker,--
"Is--is there any hope about those shares, Mr Penwynn? Will the mine
finally pay?" he said, piteously.
"If it takes every penny I've got to make it pay, Rumsey.--Yes," said
the banker, sternly. "I am not a scoundrel."
"No, no, of course not," cried the doctor, excitedly, as he snatched a
grain of hope from the other's words. "But would you sell if you were
me?"
"If you can find any one to buy--at any price--yes," said the banker,
quietly; and the grain of hope seemed to be snatched away.
As the doctor was leaving, Rhoda lay in wait to go to her father's room,
but the vicar came up, and she hastily retired.
"Mr Lee? What does he want?" said the banker, peevishly. "Where is
he?"
"In the drawing-room, sir."
Mr Penwynn rose, and followed the man to where the vicar was standing
by the drawing-room table.
"You'll excuse me, Mr Penwynn," he said, anxiously; "but is Mr
Trethick here?"
"No. I have been expecting him all the morning, Mr Lee. May I ask
why?"
The vicar hesitated, and the colour came into his pale cheeks.
"I want to see him particularly, Mr Penwynn."
"May I ask why?"
"I think you know why, Mr Penwynn. There's a terrible report about the
mine. Is it true?"
"Too true," said the banker, coldly. "And you have come to try and rise
upon his fall," he added to himself.
"Poor Trethick!" exclaimed the vicar; "and he was so elate and proud of
his success. He is a brave fellow, Mr Penwynn."
"Indeed," said the banker, sarcastically. "Come, Mr Lee, suppose you
are frank with me. What of that other report?"
"It is a scandal--a cruel invention," exclaimed the vicar. "I cannot, I
will not believe it. For heaven's sake keep it from Miss Penwynn's
ears."
The banker turned upon him sharply.
"Why?" he said, abruptly.
"Why?" exclaimed the young vicar, flushing. "Mr Penwynn, can you ask
me that?"
"Mr Lee," said the banker, "I'd give a thousand pounds down to believe
as you do. I have been waiting here all the morning for Mr Trethick to
come to me--to bring me, as he should, the bad news of the flooding of
the mine, and, if it is necessary, to defend himself against this charge
that is brought against him; and he does not come. What am I to think?"
"Think him innocent, Mr Penwynn. I for one cannot believe such a
charge to be true. But here is Mr Trethick," he cried, as a hasty step
was heard upon the gravel, and, without waiting to be announced,
Geoffrey walked straight in.
The vicar started at his appearance, for he was haggard and his eyes
red. He had evidently not been to bed all night, and his clothes were
dusty and covered with red earth. There was a curious excited look,
too, about his face, as he stared from one to the other, and then said,
hoarsely,--
"Ruin, Mr Penwynn; the mine is drowned."
"So I heard, Mr Trethick, before I was up," said the banker, coldly.
"I sat by the furnace-fire all night," said Geoffrey, in the same low,
hoarse voice, "trying to think it out, for I know--I'll swear this is
the work of some scoundrel; and if I can prove it--"
He did not finish, but stood with his fists clenched looking from one to
the other.
"I've been asleep," he said, "and I'm not half awake yet. I felt
half-mad this morning. I drank some brandy to try and calm me, but it
has made me worse."
"There is no doubt about that. We will talk about the mine some other
time, Mr Trethick," said the banker. "Will you leave my house now?
You are not in a fit state to discuss matters."
"Fit state?" said Geoffrey. "Yes, I am in a fit state; but the accident
has been almost maddening. No; it was no accident. I'll swear it has
been done."
"Perhaps so," said the banker, calmly; "but will you return to your
apartments now. I will send for you to-morrow."
"My apartments?" exclaimed Geoffrey, with a harsh laugh. "Where are
they? I have none now. Mr Lee, will you give me your arm; my head
swims. Take me down to Rumsey's place. I'm going wrong I think--or
something--there was--little brandy in the--in the--what was I saying--
the men--bottle--furnace-house--I was--faint--Pengelly gave me--I--I--
can't see--is--is it night? Fetch--Rhoda. I--"
He sank heavily upon the floor, for it was as he said. He had remained
watching by the dying furnace-fire the whole night, and then, heart-sick
and faint, he had taken the little cup of brandy and water Pengelly
handed to him, the remains of the bottle from which the two watchers had
been drugged, and, little as he had taken, it had been enough to send
him into a deep sleep, from which he had at last risen to hurry up to An
Morlock--drunk, so the servants said.
"Disgracefully intoxicated!" Mr Penwynn declared.
The Reverend Edward Lee said nothing, but sighed deeply and went his
way, and Rhoda Penwynn was fetched down by her father, who took her to
the drawing-room door, and pointed to where Geoffrey lay upon the
carpet.
"Your idol is broken, Rhoda," he said, in a low, stern voice. "We were
both deceived."
"Oh, papa! is he ill?" cried Rhoda; and with all a woman's sympathy for
one in distress, she forgot the report she had heard, and was about to
make for Geoffrey's side.
"Ill as men are who make brute beasts of themselves, my child. Come
away, my girl, and let him sleep it off. Rhoda, you can be brave, I
know: so show your courage now."
She was ghastly pale, and she gazed from father to lover, hesitating
whether she ought not to take Geoffrey's part against the whole world.
Heart triumphed, and snatching away her hand as she was being led from
the room,--
"I'll never believe it, father," she cried. "Oh, Geoffrey, Geoffrey,
speak to me. Tell me what is wrong?"
She had sunk upon her knees and caught the prostrate man's hand in hers,
with the effect that he roused himself a little, and slightly turned his
head.
"Mine's drowned," he muttered. "Don't worry--that brandy."
"Yes, yes; but you will soon put that right."
"Put it right," he said, thickly. "No--sha'n't marry her--poor little
Madge--I like little Madge--I'm sleepy, now."
Geoffrey's hand fell from Rhoda's heavily upon the thick carpet, and she
shrank away from him as if stung. Then her head drooped, her face went
down into her hands, and as Mr Penwynn stood watching her, she uttered
a moan, rocking herself to and fro.
This lasted but a few minutes, and then a curiously-hard, stern look
came over her pale face, as she slowly rose from her knees, and went and
placed her hands in those of her father, looking him full in the eyes;
and then, with the air of outraged womanhood lending a stern beauty to
her face, she let him lead her to his study, where she sat with him,
hardly speaking, till she heard it whispered that Mr Trethick had got
up, and gone staggering out of the house.
"Where did he go?" said Mr Penwynn, quietly.
"Down to the hotel, sir."
"That will do."
Father glanced at daughter as soon as they were alone, when Rhoda left
her seat and laid her hands upon his shoulder.
"I don't feel well, dear," she said. "I shall go up to my room. Don't
expect to see me again to-day, father, and don't be uneasy. You are
right, dear," she said, with her voice trembling for a moment; then,
flinging her arms round his neck, she kissed him passionately.
Mr Penwynn held her to his breast, and returned her kisses.
"It is very, very hard to bear, father. Oh, don't--don't you think we
may be mistaken?"
"No," he said sternly; "I do not."
Rhoda heaved a bitter sigh, and then drew herself up, but bent down and
kissed him once more.
"I'm your daughter, dear," she said, with a piteous smile; "but I'm
going to be very brave. I shall be too proud to show every thing I
feel."
She left the study and went up to her chamber, where she stood gazing
from the window at the sunlit sea and glorious view of many-tinted rocks
around the bay; but she could only see one thing now, and that was her
broken idol as he had lain upon the floor below, and uttered the words,
still burning in her ears, full of pity for "poor little Madge."