"Indeed!" said Geoffrey. "I say, Pengelly, how many times have you been there lately?" "Every night, sir. It come of my taking a message, and money, and a parcel, from Mistress Mullion up at the cottage; for, though she can't have her child back, because of old Mr Paul, her heart's very sore about her, and she sends there every day." "And so you and Miss Bessie have been talking matters over, eh?" "Yes, sir. I'm a poor fellow to go to a woman's eye, but I'd try very hard to go to her heart," said the miner, simply. "I did not mean that, Pengelly," said Geoffrey, smiling. "I meant about my matters." "Oh yes, sir, a deal; and if you can't get elsewhere, I'd go there." The miner went off about his work, and Geoffrey began to think over what had been proposed. "Oh, no; it would be madness to go there. It would be giving colour to the report;" and he dismissed the idea from his mind. But that evening, as he sat at the office-door upon the bleak, wind-swept promontory, with the remnants of a cheerless meal, brought him by one of the miners' wives, upon the desk behind him, and the prospect of a night upon the bench beside the door, with a rolled-up coat for a pillow, his thoughts went back to the cottage at Gwennas, and he had to light a pipe to try and soothe himself, so bitter were his feelings. "It's too bad--a thousand times too bad for any thing," he cried, as he gazed out to sea at the ever-darkening waves, now beginning to glitter with the reflections from the stars above. "'Pon my soul, I'm the most unlucky fellow that ever breathed, and it's miserable living like this. Suppose I go to old Prawle's? I could sit with him down in his cave, and smoke, and drink smuggled liquor. I'm a drunkard by reputation, so why not indulge? "I like poor old Mrs Prawle--and Bessie. Good lass." He had a long, quiet think, and then burst out into a cynical laugh. "What would Carnac say if I went there?" And directly after, in a hard fit of stubborn opposition,-- "What does Carnac say now? Damn Carnac. I will go, and they may say and think what they will." He had worked himself up into such a fit of passion, that for fear he should cool down, and let himself back out of what he looked upon as a bit of revenge upon the scandal-loving place, he started off at once, reached the cliff, and walked swiftly along to the Cove, where, as he came to the rapid descent, he stopped short to gaze at the place below. On a stone outside the door, which was open, and from which came forth a soft flood of light, sat old Prawle, smoking away, with the bowl of his short black pipe glowing in the twilight like a star, while leaning against the door-post, with something in her arms, was Bessie Prawle, rocking herself to and fro, and singing an old Cornish ditty in a sweet, wild voice. "By George!" said Geoffrey, softly, "I'd forgotten the bairn."