"Not quite that. We've had as bad. What shall we do? Stick to it, or try somewhere else?
"We daren't go away. Stick to it we must. If we left it and I heard afterwards the same sort of story we were told about our claim on Mountain Maid, I should do somebody a mischief. You agree with me, then, that we remain and work the claim out?"
"I agree to anything you wish, Chaytor. I will stay or go away, just as you decide."
Chaytor looked at him with an eye of curiosity. "Were you ever a fellow of much strength of character, Basil?"
"I think so, once; not in any remarkable degree, but sufficient for most purposes."
"And now?"
"And now," replied Basil, taking his pipe from his mouth, and holding it listlessly between his fingers, "the life seems to have gone out of me. The only tie that binds me to it is you. I owe you an everlasting debt of gratitude, old fellow, and I wish I could do something to repay it. But in tying yourself to me you are tied to a log that keeps dragging you down. The ill luck that pursues us come from me. Throw me off and fortune will smile upon you."
"And upon you?"
"No. The taste of all that's sweet and beautiful has gone out of my mouth; I'm a soured man inside of me; you're a thousand times better than I am. What is bitterness in you comes uppermost; it pleases you to hide the best part of you; but you cannot hide it from me, for I've had experience of you and know you. Now I'm the exact reverse. Outwardly you would think I'm an easy-going, easy-natured fellow, willing always to make the best of things, and to look on the brightest side. It is untrue; I am a living hypocrite. Inwardly I revile the world; because of my own disappointments I can see no good in it. Good fortune or bad fortune, what does it matter to me now? It cannot restore my faith, it cannot destroy the shroud which hangs over my heart. That is the difference between us. You are a thoroughly good fellow, I am a thoroughly bad one."
"It was not always the same with you. How have you become soured?"