"Let me go home," said Tregenna, hoarsely, as his eyes wandered round the room in a curiously wild manner. Mr Penwynn spoke to him, but he only shuddered and shook his head, repeating his request so earnestly that he was assisted home, and Dr Rumsey passed the rest of the night by his side. CHAPTER FIFTY SIX. GEOFFREY'S BOAST. "Well, Mr Paul," said Geoffrey, speaking in his bluff, frank way; "I said I would never come back to this house till you sent for me, and I have kept my word." "Yes, yes," cried the old man, shaking his hand warmly. "I have sent few you--God bless you, boy. I am glad to see you here again." "Good heavens!" ejaculated Geoffrey, for poor Mrs Mullion had thrown her arms round his neck, kissed him, and laid her head upon his shoulder, sobbing as if her heart would break. "Mrs Mullion," he continued, putting his arm round her and patting her shoulder, "come, come, come, be a woman, and let's talk and see if we can't put this unhappy affair all right." "Yes, yes," she sobbed, raising her face and clinging to him still; "I always liked you, Geoffrey Trethick, and you will--you will try. You have been so good to my poor darling in other ways. We have known every thing, though we have kept away. Mr Paul here said it would be a lesson for you both, but I've gone down on my knees every night, Geoffrey, and prayed for you both, and that your heart might be softened; and now, my boy, have pity on her poor mother, who prays to you for justice to her weak, erring child--who prays to you on her bended knees." "No, no, no, my poor soul," said Geoffrey, kindly, as he held her up. "There, there, don't kneel to me. Come, sit down," he cried, kissing her pleasant, motherly face; and the tears stood in his eyes as he spoke. "Come, Uncle Paul, let us try if we cannot see daylight out through this miserable fog." "Yes, yes," said the old man, who was standing with his head bent. "Yes, yes," he continued, heartily; "sit down--sit down, my boy. We will have no more passion. It shall all be calm and quiet. Come, Geoffrey, you'll smoke one of the old cheroots with me again?" He smiled in the young man's face as he took out his case. "Indeed, I will," cried Geoffrey, catching the old man's hand and retaining it. "Why, Uncle Paul--old fellow, this is like the good old times." They sat there hand clasped in hand for some moments, and then the elder shook Geoffrey's softly and let it go. "Come," he said, "light up. I want to talk to you." "Yes, let us light up," said Geoffrey. "Mrs Mullion, may we smoke before you? I don't want you to go away." "Oh, no, I will not go," said the poor woman, tenderly, as she hastened to hand them each a light. Then they smoked for a few minutes in silence, Mrs Mullion at a sign from the old man bringing out his handsome silver spirit-stand and glasses, with hot water and sugar. "Come, Geoffrey, my boy," cried Uncle Paul; "mix for yourself, and let's drink to the happy future."