"I like you better than I did," she said; "and if I get very dull here having no one to contradict me, I shall drag Waddy off to Cornwall and take some lodgings just over your mines, and watch you trying to turn yourself into a miner or mine-owner. Do you know I have been to Scotland; and in Edinburgh I met a Miss Frances Muir, a great friend of yours?" "Did you meet her? How strange! She's a nice girl. I'm her godfather." Miss Ward came back at this moment, and she had to be told the news. She took it quietly, but she had a strange sinking of heart when she realized that she would no longer be able to appeal to Thorold for advice. She had certainly leant upon him more than she had ever done upon anyone before. Thorold's news soon spread. Mrs. Wharnecliffe had known all about it from the beginning, and she highly disapproved of the step. "He will lose his money, and his health, and die in the workhouse," she told her husband. "Why is it that some people will never take their rest in this world? I almost wish he had not come into money. I might have known it would never do him any lasting good!" "I think it's a fine thing of him to do," said her husband. "I wish a few more moneyed folk would open up some Cornish mines. I've been told the land is rich with untold wealth below the surface, and anyone who gives employment, to our honest poor in these days is a benefactor." Before the winter came, Thorold's house was for sale, and he was saying good-bye to his friends. "You can't have got your mines ready yet to work," said Gentian, when he paid his farewell visit to her. "No, but I want to know my manager and the people round, and every detail of the work if I can." "You'll work yourself to death." She looked up at him with troubled eyes. Thorold would not meet those blue eyes. He seemed nervous and ill at ease. "If anything goes wrong here," he said, suddenly turning to Miss Ward, "be sure to let me know." "What could go wrong?" said Gentian, giving a funny little laugh. "I shall only drive my car, and play my organ, and worry Waddy to death! Life is very monotonous. I shall try hard and make it hum if I can, but I'm getting rather tired of this part of the world. If only I could make a little more money, we might go back to Italy." "That is out of the question," Miss Ward said sharply. "We won't consider this a long farewell," said Thorold in a cheerful tone. He took Gentian's hand in his. She gave him a quick little grip, then pulled her hand away and whisked round to the window. "It's raining," she said. "Even the sky is weeping at the thought of losing you." But when Thorold went out at the hall door, there was a moist drop on his hand which had not fallen from the skies. And his lips compressed themselves together as he strode out into the wet. "She hasn't had her chance yet. I'm an old fool—much, much too dull and old, to think of such a thing. But I'm glad the child likes me a little. I never thought she would."