Then, in a half-dreamy manner, he mentally went to the edge of the shaft at Wheal Carnac, and, as he had often done in reality, he picked up and examined the _debris_, lying where it had been thrown when the shaft was dug, and ended by going to sleep after half determining to try and get some apparatus fitted to allow of a descent, as far as he could go for the water, to examine the shaft and the adits, when if he could conscientiously feel that there was any prospect of the place being profitably worked he would make an effort to get a few enterprising capitalists together to take advantage of what was already done, and carry the mine on to prosperity. The first person on whom Geoffrey's eyes rested the next morning as he entered his room was Madge Mullion, in a neat blue gingham dress, arranging a bunch of forget-me-nots in a little blue vase upon his breakfast-table, and ready to look very bright and conscious, as she started up to smile pleasantly in his face. "Why, hang the girl! she has blue eyes, too," thought Geoffrey, as he nodded, by way of good-morning. "Uncle Paul down?" he said. "Yes, Mr Trethick, I heard him come down just before you, and--" "The old rascal's got something good for breakfast," cried Geoffrey, with a pronounced sniff. "What is it?" "Curried lobster, Mr Trethick," said Madge, pouting her pretty red-- perhaps already too pouting--lips at the lodger's extremely mundane views. "I love turned lobster," said Geoffrey, "especially such lobsters as you get down here. I shall go and attack him for a portion." "Don't, please, Mr Trethick," said Madge, earnestly. "There is a delicious sole for you. It came from the trawler this morning, and--and I cooked it myself." "Egged and crumbed; Miss Mullion?" "Yes," she said, eagerly. "Humph! Well, I think I'll compound for the fresh sole, and let Uncle Paul have his lobster in peace." "You shall have it directly, Mr Trethick," cried Madge, looking brightly in the young man's face. "I--I brought you some forget-me-nots this morning." "Yes," he said, smiling, "I was admiring them. They are beautiful; just like your eyes." "For shame! Mr Trethick; what nonsense!" "No," he said, "it's a fact, and you've got the downiest of cheeks, and the reddest of lips that pout up at one as if asking to be kissed; and really, Madge, if they ask like that I shall be obliged to kiss them." "I'd never forgive you if you did," said Madge, with a look that bade him go on. "Well, I'm afraid I must chance the forgiveness," he said, merrily. "It's a great risk, but you may be merciful," and he playfully caught her in his arms and kissed her, Madge making a pretence at resistance as she triumphantly told herself that she knew she could pique him and master his coldness. "Oh! Mr Trethick!" she exclaimed. "Madge! Here, I say, Madge!" cried the old man, whose door was heard to open sharply. "Yes, uncle," cried the girl, reddening.