"However, to play the part of the dog in the manger," Ralph went on, "is not a very manly thing to do, so I have decided to tell you all I know." "You will reveal the lode to me?" he questioned eagerly. "Yes. It will be good for the neighbourhood and the county in any case." The squire sat down suddenly, and furtively wiped his eyes. "But the money-lenders will have to be squared first. Will you allow me to tackle them for you? I should enjoy the bull-baiting." "You mean----" "I mean that in any case they must not be allowed to get the lode into their hands." "I don't know how it is to be avoided." "Will you leave the matter to me and William Menire?" "You mean you will help me?" "We shall be helping the neighbourhood." Sir John struggled hard to keep the tears back, but failed. "And you impose no condition?" he sobbed at length. "No, I impose no condition. If the thing is to be done, let it be done freely." "You unman me altogether," the squire said, with brimming eyes. "I did not expect, I really didn't. I have no claim, and I've been beastly hard on you. I know I have, and I'm sorry, real sorry, mind you; and if--if----" "We'll let the 'ifs' go for the present, if you don't mind," Ralph said, with a dry laugh. "There are a good many present difficulties to be met. I should like to see your agreement with the money-lenders." "You shall see everything. If you can only get me out of this hole you will make me the most thankful man alive!" Ralph smiled dubiously. "When can I see the papers?" he asked. "To-day if you like. They are at the Manor." "Very good. I will walk across after tea, or will you fetch them here?" "If it would not be troubling you to walk so far----" "I will come with pleasure." The squire felt very chastened and humble as he made his way slowly back to the Manor, through Treliskey Plantation. Magnanimity is rarely lost on anyone, kindness will melt the hardest heart. The squire's pride was being slowly undermined, his arrogance seemed almost a contemptible thing. By contrast with Ralph's nobler character he began to see how mean and poor was his own. He had prided himself so much on his name and pedigree, and yet he was only beginning to see how unworthy he had proved of both. What, after all, was the mere accident of birth in comparison with moral greatness? Measured by any right standard, Ralph Penlogan was an infinitely better man than he. He had not only intellect, but heart. He possessed that true nobility which enabled a man to forgive his enemy. He was turning in a very literal sense his cheek to the smiter. Sir John entered the house with a curious feeling of diffidence. His home, and yet not his. The dowager made him welcome, and placed the library and a bedroom above at his disposal for as long as he might care to stay.