"I want no dealings with such a treacherous man," cried Amos, fiercely. "But, look here, I warn ye. You're well-shaped and good to look upon, while I'm only a cripple; but I can't--there's that in me that won't let me--stand by and see another man take up with her as flouts me for what I am." "Flouts? Take up with her?" said Geoffrey, wonderingly, while the miner's breast heaved as he seemed to be battling hard to contain himself. Then a light burst upon Geoffrey, and he was ready to burst into a fit of laughter; but he saw that the subject was too serious for mirth, and he exclaimed, in a tone of vexation once more,-- "Are all you people mad here upon questions relating to the sexes? Why, my good fellow, where do you think I've been?" "You said--to Prawle's." "Yes, of course; but what for?" "You've been to see her. You've been again and again, master, till I can bear it no more. Oh! Master Trethick," he cried, piteously, "it may be play and trifling with you, but it's killing me." "Amos Pengelly," cried Geoffrey, laying his hand on the miner's shoulder, "if you think I go over yonder to see Prawle's daughter you, never made a greater mistake in your life." Amos drew back and looked full in his eyes, which never flinched for a moment, but frankly returned the gaze. "Say that again," said the miner, hoarsely. "I won't," cried Geoffrey. "Hang it, man! there are bounds to every thing. It's absurd, it's--" He stopped short as he saw the man's emotion, and said kindly, as he held out his hand,-- "Pengelly, my lad, as I am a man, I never bestowed a thought on Bessie Prawle, but have been there to sit half-an-hour with her poor sick mother." The miner's face changed, and he was about to speak, but he turned sharply round, and limped away with wonderful activity, disappearing amongst the rocks; and, after waiting a few minutes to see if he would return, Geoffrey gave himself a shake, and then stooped to pick up something that fell tinkling on the granite path. "That's one of my brace buttons gone," he said pettishly. "Hang the fellow! he's as strong as a horse. It was enough to break all one's buttons. So that's Cornish wrestling, is it? I thought myself pretty clever, but he could have thrown me like a baby." "Poor fellow, though," he said to himself, as he went on, "I suppose he did feel cut up and savage with me. But what a set they are--down here, to be sure. Seems to me that they think of nothing but love-making, and that it isn't safe to look at a woman in the place. What a blessing it is that I am so constituted that all women seem to me to be mothers and sisters--mothers and sisters--sisters--yes, sisters," he mused, as he looked at his right hand, opening and closing the fingers gently, as he seemed to feel within it a soft, shapely white hand, and traced each tapering finger where Rhoda's had so lately been.