"Look here," said Geoffrey, sharply, "you know what I told you last night." "Yes, I know," said the old man, grimly. "You tell them the same. I couldn't talk to them. Undeceive them about it, and be kind to the poor lass. I'll do all I can for you, Prawle, about the shares." The old man nodded and uttered a growl that might have been "All right," or "Thanks," or any thing else, and then Geoffrey went on towards Carnac. "Tell them the same," said the rugged old fellow, with a grim chuckle. "Why, I might preach to 'em for a month, and then they wouldn't believe it any more than I could myself." Pengelly was anxiously awaiting his principal at the mine, ready to lay certain reports before him about the drive that was being made, and he did it all in so stern and distant a way that Geoffrey could not help seeing that his right-hand man had heard the report, and, what was more, believed it. The result was that it raised up a spirit of resentment in the young man's breast that made him retire within himself snail fashion; but with this difference, that he left his horns pointing menacingly outside; and for the rest of that day he was not a pleasant person to consult upon any matter. For in spite of the contempt with which he treated the whole affair, and his determination to completely ignore the matter, it was always torturing him, and there was the constant thought in his mind that Rhoda must sooner or later hear of it, if she had not already been apprised by Miss Pavey or some other tattling friend. "Let them. If she's the woman I believe her, she'll write to me in a quiet indirect way, not referring to it, of course, but to let me see her confidence in me is not shaken." The amount of work he got through on that day was tremendous, and as he worked his spirits rose. He strengthened his plans for guarding against the breaking in of the sea; and at last, completely fagged out, he ascended from the mine, changed, and washed in the office, and, without speaking to Pengelly, went straight to Dr Rumsey's. The doctor saw him coming, and came to the door. "Find you apartments, Mr Trethick?" he said, coldly. "In an ordinary way it would be impossible. Under the present circumstances it is doubly so." "Very good," said Geoffrey, sharply. "You persist, then, in believing that?" "I would rather not discuss the matter, Mr Trethick," said the doctor. "Good evening." "I must go to the hotel, then, that's all," said Geoffrey to himself. "Confound them all! They will find that I've Cornish blood in my veins, and can be as pig-headed in obstinacy as the best." CHAPTER FORTY. SOMETHING WRONG. They were civil enough to him at the hotel, but Geoffrey could not help noticing that there was a peculiar something in his reception. Of course it was strange his going there, and it led to talking about him; of this he could not help feeling sure.