"As the cloud came so let it go," cried Geoffrey. "The poor girl is silent about her lover, but the truth will come out of itself. Till then I am content to wait, and let the world have its say." "But he must marry her--poor girl!" "No!" said Geoffrey, sternly. "No! Better let her bear her lot, hard as it may be. The man who could forsake her in her greatest need would never make her a husband worthy of her love. She must accept her fate." "But you, Geoffrey Trethick. It is unmanly not to clear your fame." "Maybe," he said, bitterly; "but I don't think I am like other men. I shall wait until Time shall bleach it once more white." "But why not leave your lodgings?" said the vicar. "Take apartments elsewhere." "What, make a cowardly retreat?" cried Geoffrey. "But the world. It was an unfortunate thing for you to do. Why did you go there?" "Out of defiance," cried Geoffrey. "But that is past now. Try and make an effort to crush this wretched scandal upon your name. It is a duty, Geoffrey." "That I will not do," he said, stubbornly. "And Rhoda?" said the vicar, softly. Geoffrey started as if stung. "Let her wait too," he said, angrily. "When she humbles herself and asks my pardon she shall have it, and with it my farewell words. Lee, I loved that woman as strongly as man could love, but that love is dead." They stood together now in silence for a few moments. Then Geoffrey turned to go. "I'll drop in on you some day, Lee," he said, in his usual light tone. "Good-by, old fellow. I think we understand each other now." "I'll come with you," said the vicar, quietly. "Come with me, where?" "To see poor Madge." And they went together down the hill, oak and willow; but the oak growing gnarled and bowed with a canker in its breast, and the willow growing stronger every hour. CHAPTER FORTY SIX. A THANK-OFFERING. Six months had passed since the night Geoffrey Trethick saved Madge Mullion's life, and his character and his ways had become, like the failure of Wheal Carnac, matters of the past. There had been scores of interesting topics since then. People had talked about Miss Pavey's change, and how she followed the vicar like his shadow. There was that affair which had shaken Mr Penwynn's little local bank, and the forced sales he had had to make to meet his engagements. The carriage had been put down at An Morlock, and there were people who said that no good would come of the banker's great intimacy with John Tregenna, who was up at the house more frequently than he had been for some time past.