The Vicar's People Part 70

Pengelly nodded, and they parted, the miner making haste back to his cottage, where he found that Geoffrey had not stirred, neither did he move all that night, while Pengelly dozed beside him in a chair.

It seemed as if he would never wake, and the probabilities are that a man with a less vigorous const.i.tution would never have woke again, so powerful was the drug thrown with reckless hand into the brandy by the ignorant man.

In fact it was ten o'clock the next morning before Geoffrey started up and gazed wonderingly at Pengelly.

"You've woke up at last, sir," said the miner, with a reproachful look.

"At last? What do you mean? Good heavens! How my head throbs."

"It was a sorry trick to do, Master Trethick, and not a man's part, to go and drown your _brain_ like the pit."

"Look here, Pengelly, my head's all in a whirl. I'm ill. I hardly know what I am saying. How came I here?"

"I carried you here mostly, Master Trethick, sir, after you come away from An Morlock."

"Did I go to An Morlock?"

"Yes, sir, I s'pose so--to say the mine was flooded."

"Yes, of course, the mine was flooded; but did I go to Mr Penwynn's?"

"Yes, sir, in a state such as I had never believed I could see you, sir--full of drink."

"What?"

"I suppose you had been taking it to make you forget the trouble, sir.

That drop I gave you at the furnace--"

"Ah, to be sure," cried Geoffrey, who saw more clearly now--"that brandy."

"Wouldn't have hurt a child, sir," said the miner, bitterly.

"But it sent my two men to sleep. What time is it now--three--four?" he cried, gazing at the window.

"It's ten o'clock, sir, and you've been since two yesterday sleeping it off."

"Then that stuff was drugged," cried Geoffrey. "Here, Pengelly, may I wash here? I must go up to An Morlock directly."

There was a knocking on the door below, and Pengelly descended, while Trethick tried to clear his head by drinking copiously of the cold water, and then bathing his face and head.

"Good heavens! If I went up to An Morlock in such a state what would they think? How unfortunate. Every thing goes wrong."

The cold water did clear his dull brain somewhat, but his lips and throat were parched, and he felt terribly ill. So confused was he still, that for the time he had forgotten all about Madge Mullion, while the proceedings of the previous day seemed to him to be seen through a mist, and the more he tried, the worse confusion he was in. One thing, however, was certain, and that was that he must go up to An Morlock at once, and see Mr Penwynn about the mine.

"Humph! here is a comb," he said. "I'll straighten a little, and then run up home, and--"

He dropped the comb and caught at the window-sill, where a little gla.s.s was standing, for as he mentioned that word home, he felt giddy, and back, like a flash, came the recollection of all that had pa.s.sed.

He had no home to go to. Rhoda must have heard of that awkward incident, and he had been up to An Morlock while under the influence of a drug.

"Feel giddy, sir?" said a voice. "I'll give you a cup of tea before you go away; but here's Mr Penwynn's man been with a letter for you."

Geoffrey caught the letter from the bearer's hands, and, with a terrible feeling of dread oppressing him, tore it open, and read it through twice before he fully realised its meaning.

It was very short but to the point, and Geoffrey seemed to see the stern-looking writer as the words gradually took shape and meaning.

For Mr Penwynn said, in cold, plain terms, that, after what had taken place, of course Mr Trethick saw that he could not call at An Morlock again, and that he was commissioned by Miss Penwynn to say that she fully endorsed her father's words. As to the mine, for the present Mr Trethick must continue his duties there, and in the conduct of their business relations Mr Penwynn called upon him to use his most strenuous exertions to reduce the loss, and to place the mine in its former state.

"Curse the mine!" cried Geoffrey aloud. "What is that compared to my character there? Pengelly," he cried fiercely, "do people believe this scandal?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And yesterday? What about me? How did I seem?"

"Like one, sir," said the miner sternly, "who had forgotten that he was a man, and drunk till he was a helpless beast."

"And I went there like that," thought Geoffrey. "Perhaps she saw me.

And she believes all this."

He stood there with his head feeling as if a flood had burst in upon his throbbing brain.

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

GEOFFREY'S NEW LODGINGS.

Geoffrey Trethick had truly expressed his character when he said that he had Cornish blood in his veins, and could be as obstinate as any in the county. Whether he was descended from the same race as peopled the opposite coast of France, it is impossible to say, but he was as stubborn as any Breton ever born.

The days glided on, and he found that he was disbelieved and doubted; that Mr Penwynn had lost faith in him, and that Rhoda had set herself aloof; and one way and another he was so exasperated that he set his teeth firmly, and swore he would never say another word in his own defence.

"Let them think what they may, say what they like, I'll never protest or deny again; and as for Rhoda, fickle, cold-hearted, cruel girl, I hate her with all my heart--and I am a liar for saying so," he cried. "But that's all over, and some day or another she shall beg my pardon--and I'll tell her so."

Acting on the impulse of the moment he sat down and hastily penned a note to her, without internal address or signature, placed it in his pocket, and kept it there ready for posting when he pa.s.sed the office.

It was very brief.

"I gave you my love in full trust and hope. I believed you gave me yours in return. Trouble came--accident--mishap--and appearances blackened me. You heard much, saw less, and you judged me from hearsay, giving me no opportunity for defence. In other words, you believed me to be as great a scoundrel as ever walked this earth. I accept your washes conveyed in your father's note; but some day you will beg my pardon--ask my forgiveness. I shall wait till that day comes."

Not a very gentle letter to send to a lady, but he sent it just at a time, to use his own words, when his soul was raw within him.

He had seen Mr Penwynn, who ridiculed the idea of the flooding being the work of an enemy, and bade him, imperiously, free the mine from water.

He was too proud to say much, but accepted at once the position of servant, and went his way to examine the mine once more, set the pumping-engine working at its highest pressure, and found at the end of twenty-four hours that he had not sunk the water the eighth of an inch.

Then he had found himself deliberately "cut" by the better-cla.s.s people in the place, and that his efforts to obtain even the humblest lodgings were in vain. The hotel people excused themselves on the plea of want of room, and for several nights he slept in the office by the mine.