"Oh, I don't know so much about that, Mr Reed. You are chief here at the mines." "And at the board in town, my man. You are insolent and angry still. Go about your work, and when you are calm and have had an opportunity for thinking all this over, come to me and apologise as a straightforward man should." "Oh, there's no time like the present," said the man roughly. "Yes, there is, and I decline to quarrel with you, sir. That will do now. I leave you to think over what has passed, as I don't wish to be angry and do anything to injure an honest man's prospects." "But--" "I said that will do," said Reed firmly; and turning his back, he began to walk away without seeing the ominous shadow cast by the lanthorn he carried, as Michael Sturgess took a step forward with his hands cramped like a bird's claws. It would have been so easy, too; a sharp side-wise thrust and nothing could have saved the man who was touched. There was a slight rail by the side of that old shaft, but a man who slipped must have been precipitated headlong down the stony pit seventy or eighty feet, to the rocky floor below, and mutilation was certain--death more than a probable event. But the man did not stir, and the shadow grew more and more faint, as Clive Reed strode along the gallery till he passed round a corner and disappeared. Michael Sturgess stood listening to his chief's steps till they died out, and then taking out a box of matches, he struck one and lit a lanthorn which he took from a niche in the wall, the glow lighting up his savage features. He muttered an oath as he stood closing the lanthorn door. Then he burst out into a strange laugh. "Make much of it, my lad, while it lasts. It's hard to bear, but I don't want to be hung for the sake of a lass, specially when there's another way." He went off in the other direction, and Clive Reed made his way to the cage and ascended to daylight and his books in the office, where he busied himself till evening, fully expecting a visit from his foreman; but the day passed, and at last he left the place, and made his way to the cottage over the mountain side where Dinah stood waiting, flushed and hopeful; and as his eyes met hers, the mine with its petty troubles and anxieties passed away, and he was in the land of love and hope and joy. There was the usual walk among the flowers; and how bright those blossoms were! then the pleasant evening meal, and the adjournment to the tiny drawing-room, where, after a little music, to Clive's disgust, the Major turned the conversation to the very subject the visitor wished to avoid. He asked him questions about the output, and the likeliness of increased yield, all of which questions Reed good-humouredly answered, feeling vexed, but at the same time amused by the love of money the Major had of late developed; while Dinah sat and listened, meeting her betrothed's eyes from time to time.