"To be sure you might," nodded Lennox. "I am going up to town the day after to-morrow: if you like, I will see what I can do for you. Just as you please, you know, Cleeve: I have no interest in your decision one way or the other." "I am aware of that. It is very good of you. Let me see: twenty shares at five pounds a share would be a hundred pounds. That would leave me the other hundred to pay the second call with." The Captain laughed--a little contemptuously, Philip thought. "You are indeed a timid speculator," he said. "In these matters my motto is, 'Nothing venture, nothing win.' In your place I should invest the two hundred pounds right off. But of course you know your own business best." Philip coloured and stammered. "You are certain that there is no likelihood of a third call being made, Lennox?" "As certain as I am of anything in this uncertain world," was the answer. "And then, you have always the option of getting out of your bargain by selling." "Well, I will think of it," decided Philip, "and see you again before you go." He did think of it, and the thought dazzled him. The end of it was that he put a cheque for two hundred pounds in Lennox's hands half an hour before that gentleman started for London. An anxious and feverish time for Philip was that which followed. His sunny, easy-going disposition led him to look on the bright side of most things, but there were times and seasons, generally during the lonely hours of darkness, when he thought with a dread sinking of the heart of what he had done. The second call would go a long way towards exhausting his remaining capital, and should the mine, after all, turn out a failure, he would be a ruined man. But more often his thoughts flowed in a brighter channel. The Hermandad shares would go up--up; as he had heard of other mining shares going up. At the proper moment he would sell out and realise his capital. Then with a swelling heart he would go to the Vicar and say to him: "I have come to ask your daughter's hand in marriage. I am about to become Tiplady's partner, and I have a home to take my wife to, equal to the one she is leaving." What a sweet revenge it would be after all Mr. Kettle's harshness! CHAPTER XII. HUBERT STONE'S RETURN. Mr. Conroy departed for London immediately after that momentous walk with Ella Winter, which would never be forgotten by either of them. There was a last pressure of the hands, a last look into each other's eyes, and he was gone. She wished their engagement not to be spoken of at present, and he willingly complied. The days wore on. When three had passed, and there came no tidings of Hubert Stone, old Aaron grew somewhat perplexed. What could he mean by absenting himself? That so good a swimmer and strong a man, as Hubert was, had failed to reach the shore, no one who knew him entertained any fear. Where was he, then? On the fourth day Aaron presented himself before his mistress, who was alone in her own sitting-room.