‘I am possessed of means, and, as you see, can spend but little on myself. I ask you, with much earnestness, to let me be of some small use to the cause of social justice, by putting, in your hands the sum of five hundred pounds, to be employed as may seem good to you. I need not affect to be ignorant of your position, and it is my great fear lest you should be unable to work for Socialism with your undivided energies. Will you accept this money, and continue by means of public lecturing to spread the gospel of emancipation? That I am convinced is your first desire. If you will do me this great kindness, I shall ask your permission to arrange that the same sum be paid to you annually, for the next ten years, whether I still live or not. To be helping in this indirect way would cheer me more than you can think. I enclose a draft on Messrs.--. ‘As I do not know your private address, I send this to the office of the “Piery Cross.” Pardon me for desiring to remain anonymous; many reasons necessitate it. If you grant me this favour, will you advertise the word “Accepted” in the “Times” newspaper within ten days? ‘With heartfelt sympathy and admiration, ‘I sign myself, ‘A FRIEND.’ Adela was unmoved; she returned the letter as if it had no interest for her. ‘What do you think of that?’ said Mutimer, forgetting their differences in his exultation. ‘I am glad you can continue your work,’ Adela replied absently. She was moving away when he again stopped her. ‘Look here, Adela.’ He hesitated. ‘Are you still angry with me?’ She was silent. ‘I am sorry I lost my temper. I didn’t mean all I said to you. Will you try and forget it?’ Her lips spoke for her. ‘I will try.’ ‘You needn’t go on doing housework now,’ he said assuringly. ‘Are you going? Come and say good-night.’ He approached her and laid his hand upon her shoulder. Adela shrank from his touch, and for an instant gazed at him with wide eyes of fear. He dropped his hands and let her go. CHAPTER XXIX The valley rested. On the morning of Mutimer’s departure from Wanley there was no wonted clank of machinery, no smoke from the chimneys, no roar of iron-smelting furnaces; the men and women of the colony stood idly before their houses, discussing prospects, asking each other whether it was seriously Mr. Eldon’s intention to raze New Wanley, many of them grumbling or giving vent to revolutionary threats. They had continued in work thus long since the property in fact changed hands, and to most of them it seemed unlikely, in spite of every thing, that they would have to go in search of new employments. This morning they would hear finally.