"Promise me not to go down," she begged. "Promise me to work at the top.
"And let another man be crushed in my place?" he said proudly. She shuddered, and held him closer to her. "Not if I know it!"
"Then you don't value my life?" she cried, with womanly tact and womanly unreason.
"Your life, my dearest! not value your life, when a single hair of your head is more precious to me than all the gold in Silver Creek!"
"No," she persisted, "you don't value my life, when you are determined to risk it in this way."
"What are you talking about, Margaret? I risk your life!"
"Yes," she cried, "you are about to do it. For if anything happens to you, I shall die."
To pacify her he was compelled to promise that he would not go down below, but he did not keep his word. It was not often he broke it, but here his manhood was in question. He was not going to shirk his fair share of risk. He did not deceive Margaret long, however. She coaxed Mr. Hart to take her to the Reef one day, and did not scruple to say that Philip expected her. When they arrived at the shaft, she was told that Philip was below. White from apprehension, she walked a few yards away, and sat down upon a trunk of a tree, while the workmen from a distance gazed at her lithe and graceful form with respectful admiration.
"Phil Rowe's a lucky fellow," they said.
Mr. Hart passed the word down for Philip to come up, and up he came, strong and handsome, with the veins standing out on his bare arms and throat: a fair sight for a woman who loved him. But Margaret turned from him, and repulsed him, secretly admiring him all the while for his courage.