The miner’s face changed, and he was about to speak, but he turned sharply round, and limped away with wonderful activity, disappearing amongst the rocks; and, after waiting a few minutes to see if he would return, Geoffrey gave himself a shake, and then stooped to pick up something that fell tinkling on the granite path.
“That’s one of my brace buttons gone,” he said pettishly. “Hang the fellow! he’s as strong as a horse. It was enough to break all one’s buttons. So that’s Cornish wrestling, is it? I thought myself pretty clever, but he could have thrown me like a baby.”
“Poor fellow, though,” he said to himself, as he went on, “I suppose he did feel cut up and savage with me. But what a set they are—down here, to be sure. Seems to me that they think of nothing but love-making, and that it isn’t safe to look at a woman in the place. What a blessing it is that I am so constituted that all women seem to me to be mothers and sisters—mothers and sisters—sisters—yes, sisters,” he mused, as he looked at his right hand, opening and closing the fingers gently, as he seemed to feel within it a soft, shapely white hand, and traced each tapering finger where Rhoda’s had so lately been.
“She would have been a very sweet sister to a man. Full of firmness, and ready to advise and help a fellow in his troubles. It must be very nice to have a sister—such a one as she.”
He walked on very slowly, growing moment by moment more thoughtful, and somehow his thoughts were of Rhoda Penwynn; but they were all chased away by the sight of the Reverend Edward Lee coming along the track.
“Ah, Mr Lee!” he cried, holding out his hand, “how are you getting along?”
The young clergyman started and looked confused. There was a shrinking manner about him as he unwillingly put out his hand to be heartily pressed; but somehow Geoffrey Trethick’s will seemed always to master his, and he replied nervously to his inquiries.
“I’ve been going to call upon you over and over again,” said Geoffrey. “Coming for advice, and that sort of thing; but I suppose you are terribly busy over your new cure?”
“I am—very busy,” said the other, with a half sigh, as he recalled some of the difficulties of his task; and he looked nervously in Geoffrey’s eyes, and felt constrained to say that he would be very glad to see him.
“That’s right,” said Geoffrey, “I shall come. One has not too many cultivated acquaintances down here. And I’m a parishioner, you know.”