"You're a fool," cried the old man, furiously. "A terrible fool," said Geoffrey, coolly. "You don't know," stuttered old Prawle, who was beside himself with rage; "you don't know, I tell you. Not half-way down that pit I could show you veins of copper so rich that your tin you found was not worth half." "What?" cried Geoffrey, staring at the old man to see if he were sane. "She's full of copper, Trethick. Do you think I would have spent money unless I was sure? She's worth no end of money, and you've thrown away what would have been a great fortune for you as well as me." "But the copper? Are you sure?" cried Geoffrey, hoarsely. "Am I sure?" cried the old man. "Didn't I work in her for years? Of course I know." "Then why did you not say so before?" cried Geoffrey, angrily. "Why should I say so?" replied the old man, fiercely. "I have myself to look after. People don't come and give me money, and tell me to live out of that. They hate me, and call me ill names. No. I found the copper, and I said to myself, `If no one else finds it, that's mine. I'll buy that mine some day;' and now, when the time has come, and we could have been rich, you let the mine go, and it is all for nothing." "You ought to have told me about that copper, Prawle. It would have been the saving of Mr Penwynn. I could have redeemed that mine from loss, and the water might have been removed sufficient for that." "Nay," cried the old man; "you couldn't have rid her of water without my plan, and I tell you I found the copper, and it was mine, and you have thrown it away." Geoffrey felt too much enraged to say much, but the old man went on. "Helped Mr Penwynn! I suppose you would: the man who threw you over. Helped his girl, who threw you over, too, and who is going to marry John Tregenna some day." A fierce utterance was on Geoffrey's lips, but this last remark of the old man seemed to silence him; and, prostrated by weariness and misery, he went on to the cottage, threw himself on his bed, and slept for twelve hours right away. CHAPTER FIFTY ONE. MADGE HEARS NEWS. Madge Mullion was very ill, and she seemed to Geoffrey to be going back, as he sat looking at her a few days after his return from town. There was something about the poor girl he liked, for she was simple-hearted and loving to a degree, and he would often sit in the next room apparently busy writing, but watching her intensity of affection for her child. "Come, Madge," he said to her, "why don't you grow strong again, and be a woman and fight the world?" Her eyes filled with tears, and he cried out impatiently,-- "Now, look here, Madge, you are going to cry, and tell me how sorry you are for the pain you have caused me, and beg me to forgive you for what you have done; and if ever you say such a thing to me again, I shall run out of the house." "No," she faltered, "I was not, Mr Trethick. I was going to say, why should I grow well and strong again?"