"That's it, is it?" he snarled. "Well, we can soon tame all that. He won't come back here, and all that is vapour. Pretty indignation; but a woman is weak. She knows I want her, and she'll dream about it, and grow softer till the siege comes to an end. For it shall come to an end, and in my way, my lady. I never fairly attacked a girl yet without winning; and my pretty, sweet darling shall go on her knees to me yet, and what do you mean by that?" "I want to talk to you, guv'nor," said Sturgess, who had suddenly clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "What is it, then? And, confound you, don't you forget your place, sir." "No fear. I've done your dirty work, and helped you to get your position here." "And your own," cried Jessop, with a sneer. "Oh yes, that's all right; but I'm not going to have you ride roughshod over me in every way." "What do you mean, sir?" "That you've got to keep away from the cottage yonder. I'm not going to have you poaching on my preserves." "What do you mean?" "That Dinah Gurdon's mine--my lass; and that I'd break the neck of any man who came between us two." Jessop looked at the man in astonishment for a few minutes, and then burst into a mocking laugh. "You!" he cried. "Oh, this is too rich." "What!" cried Sturgess, who was black with fury. "You be damned!" cried Jessop; and rudely thrusting the man aside, making him wince as he touched his wounded arm, strode away. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. IN A FLASH. It was a curious blending of the bitter and the sweet when Clive Reed came down to the Blinkdale Moor. To a man of his temperament, it was maddening to find himself completely supplanted at the mine--where Jessop reigned supreme, when Wrigley did not come down; and in spite of the past the young engineer would have insisted upon frequent inspection of the place and statements as to the proceedings, but he dared not go, for at his next visit the Major had excitedly told him of all that had taken place with Jessop, and also of Dinah's complaint of insult received from Sturgess. "I promised her that I would leave it to her to tell, my dear boy, but it's like going into action--one does not care to begin, but the moment one's blood is up, one doesn't know where to stop." "No," said Clive, with his brow contracting. "The scoundrel, the scoundrel!" "And that brother of yours is the worst. Why, good heavens, is he mad with conceit as well as brazen wickedness? What does he take my darling for--some silly country wench to whom he has only to throw the handkerchief for her to fall on her knees at his feet?" "Don't talk about it, please, sir!" cried Clive huskily. "I find that my bad passions are stronger than I thought, for I dare not go over to the mine for fear of the scene which would be sure to follow."