"I must,--I shall," said Clive quietly. "You are terribly upset by this news; but did I not send you a message--have I not told you that there is no cause for anxiety?" "What, sir, when all London is ringing with the collapse of your scheme, and people are selling right and left for anything they can get." "Poor fools! yes," said Clive calmly. "They will smart for it afterwards." "What!" cried the Major, trying to rise from his seat, but Clive pressed him back. "I tell you all London is ringing with the bursting of the bubble." Clive smiled. "With the miserable, contemptible rumour put about by some scheming scoundrel to make money out of the fears of investors." "What! There, sir, it is of no use. I know what you will say--that the shares will recover shortly. Bah! Nonsense! Some of you have made your money by your speculation; and poor, weak, trusting fools like me, as you say, must smart for it." "Major Gurdon," said Clive sadly, "you ought to have had more confidence in the man you made your friend." "Confidence! I gave you all my confidence, and you have ruined me." "No." "Then stood by calmly and seen me ruined." "No." "What, sir?" "My dear Major, life among the Derby Dales has made you extremely unbusiness-like." "Yes, sir, an easy victim," cried the Major angrily. "To panic: yes. There, let us end this painful business." "Yes, sir, I understand," cried the Major, springing up; "let us end this painful business. I understand, and I am going. God forgive you, Clive Reed, for I never can." "You have nothing to forgive," said Clive gravely, as he met the Major's angry gaze with his clear, penetrating eyes. "Once for all, believe me; this is a rumour set about by schemers. The `White Virgin' is immaculate and growing richer day by day." "But my brokers assured me that the case was hopeless." "Your brokers, sir, derived their information on 'Change. I, who speak to you from my own experience, and from that of my dear dead father, give you my opinion based upon something tangible--the mine itself. Does poor Dinah know of all this?" "Sir, I have no secrets from my child." "What did she say?" "Say? What would a weak woman say?" cried the Major contemptuously. "You have done your work well there." "She trusted me and told you to believe?" The Major's brows knitted tightly. "God bless her!" cried Clive, with his face lighting up, and his eyes softening. "I knew she would; and come, sir, you will trust me too. I am so sorry. One of my dearest old friends has ruined himself over the wretched business." "You are right, sir," said the Major. "I have." "I did not mean you," said Clive, smiling; "but Doctor Praed. He actually accepted the news as true, let himself be swept along on the flood of the panic, and sold out to some scheming scoundrel who, for aught I know, may be at the bottom of all this." The angry flush began to die out of the Major's face, leaving it in patches of a clayey white.