"Ah! well, never mind; we are glad to see you, but--Good heavens!--Mr Reed! You've been ill or something. My dear sir, have you had some accident up at the mine?" "No," said Clive, smiling faintly. "The trouble is past. I have lost my father, Major Gurdon, since I was here. He died suddenly." "God bless me!" cried the Major, in a tone full of sympathy, as he threw his rod aside, and laid his hand with a sympathetic movement upon the young man's arm. "And I was thoughtlessly amusing myself here while you were in trouble. In the midst of life--dear, dear me! I am deeply grieved, sir--we are deeply grieved. Mr Reed, you have suffered much. Dinah, my child, I am sure Mr Reed will give us his company to-night." Dinah bent her head, and, in spite of herself, gave their companion a commiserating glance, their eyes meeting, and his resting upon hers with a sad, wistful look as if he were grateful for their kindly sympathy. Then he turned to the Major. "I thank you warmly," he said, "but not this evening. I have been down in the mine all day, and chose this path for the sake of the cool, sweet, moist air." "The more need for a little rest and quiet communion with others, my dear young friend," said the Major. "You will give us pain if you do refuse, Mr Reed. I too have known trouble, perhaps greater than yours. Don't say no, sir. You will come?" Dinah stood with her lips apart, listening, as she mentally prayed that her father's hospitality might be refused. "You wish it?" said Clive. "My dear sir," paid the Major, speaking rather stiffly, "I very rarely ask a visitor to my little hermitage. I have many failings, but my daughter here will endorse my words when I tell you that insincerity is not one." "I beg your pardon, Major Gurdon," said Clive, more warmly, "I beg Miss Gurdon's. I am not a society man, and--and trouble and anxiety have made me rather boorish, I am afraid." "Suppose we set aside attack and defence, my dear sir," said the Major gravely. "I too am no society man, a mere hermit living in this desolate--no, not desolate spot. Dinah here makes my home a place of happiness and rest." It was on Clive Reed's lips to say coldly that he was sure that was the case, but he was in no mood for passing empty compliments, and he remained silent. "Let me be frank, Mr Reed. I look back upon the time you spent with us, sir, as a bright little spot in rather a dark existence. You impressed me favourably, sir. This is a very unconventional admission, but I am eccentric. Let me tell you openly that you impressed me very favourably, and when you do have a leisure evening, you will be conferring a kindness upon me by coming across to the cottage, where we will do our best to make your stay such as would be acceptable to a busy man--restful and calm. There, Dinah, what do you say to that for a long complimentary speech."