He went no farther, for there was always the danger of coming upon one of the minor shafts, or "winzes" as they were called, which are made for ventilating the mine, and joining the upper and lower galleries together. In this case the winzes would have been full of water, like the great shaft, up to the level of the adit, which would run off the surplus to the beach. More by force of habit than for any particular reason, he threw a great stone in, to make a crashing noise, which went echoing and reverberating along the dripping passage, and then he went on. "Poor lass, she would have had a poor chance," he said, "if she had thrown herself down the old shaft up yonder. I don't think I dare have dived down there. Nay," he added, laughing, "I am sure I dare not." He went on fast now, noting the difficulties of the pathway up which he had helped Madge in the dark; and then, pausing half-way up to take breath, he uttered an exclamation. "I shouldn't have thought it possible," he said. "Why, it seems almost madness now. Well, I got her there safely, and I have been thanked for my trouble." Old Prawle was hanging about, busy, as usual, with a fishing-line, as Geoffrey went down into the Cove, nodded, and tapped gently at the door. "Well, Bessie," he said, in his light, cheery way, "how is she?" "Better, Mr Trethick," said Bessie coldly; and the bright look passed from his face as he saw the girl's distant manner. "Has the doctor been?" "Yes, Mr Trethick." "What does he say?" "That she is to have perfect rest and quiet." "And your mother?" "Better, sir. Will you speak to her?" Geoffrey hesitated a moment, and then seeing that Bessie was misinterpreting his looks, he said sharply,-- "Yes, I will;" and following Bessie in, he found the invalid in her old place, airing and burning more things than usual, but there was such a reproachful, piteous look in her eyes, that he was quite taken aback. "It's of no use. I can't argue with them," thought Geoffrey. "Here, Mrs Prawle," he said aloud, "will you kindly see that every thing possible is done for that poor girl. You will be at some expense, of course, till Mrs Mullion and her uncle fetch them home. Take that." He laid a five-pound note on the table, and walked straight out, Bessie drawing on one side to let him pass, her face looking cold and thin, and her eyes resting on the floor. "Pleasant," muttered Geoffrey, and with an abrupt "Good-morning" he went out to where old Prawle was at work. "Here, walk part of the way along the cliff with me," he said. "Come away from the cottage." The old man looked up at him from under his shaggy eyebrows, and then followed him for a couple of hundred yards, and stopped. "Won't that do?" he said. "Are you going to give me some money for them two?" "I've left five pounds with your wife," said Geoffrey, sharply. "Oh, come, that's handsome," said the old man. "But you couldn't have done less."