‘Do not interrupt me. I _did_ suppose that your heart had surrendered to me. The delusion is over. The heart belongs to a vulgar village apothecary. That heart which I so treasured——’ his voice shook and broke, and Eve sobbed. ‘Who brought the police upon me?’ he went on. ‘It was you, whom I loved and trusted, you who possess an innocent face and a heart full of guile. And here I lie, your victim, in a living grave your cruel hands have scooped out for me in the rock.’ ‘O—indeed, this mine was dug hundreds of years ago.’ He turned a reproachful look at her. ‘Why do you interrupt me? I speak metaphorically. You brought me to this, and if you have a spark of good feeling in your breast you will get me away from here.’ ‘I will bring you the key as soon as the sun sets.’ ‘That is right. I accept the token of penitence with gladness, and hope for day in the heart where the light dawns.’ ‘I must go—I really must go,’ she said. He bowed grandly to her, with his hand on his heart. ‘Come,’ said Watt. ‘I will help you over these rubbish heaps. You have had your two words.’ ‘O stay!’ exclaimed Eve, ‘my ring! I came for that and I have not got it. I must indeed, indeed have it.’ ‘Eve,’ said Martin, ‘I have been disappointed, and have spoken sharply of the sex. But I am not the man to harbour mistrust. Deceived I have been, and perhaps am now laying myself open to fresh disappointment. I cannot say. I cannot go against my nature, which is frank and trustful. There—take your ring. Come back to me this evening with it and the key, and prove to me that all women are not false, that all confidence placed in them is not misplaced.’ CHAPTER XLIV. TUCKERS.