Dinah, in her agony of spirit, wanted to rush off to her own room and hide herself from the sight of all. For this appeal seemed more than she could bear; but the Major was present, and at that moment spoke about the contents of his own letter.
“Reed wants us to see and help his foreman, who is lying at one of the cottages ill from a fall. We must do all we can, my dear. He’s a good fellow, is Clive. Very thoughtful of others. Dear, dear, if I had only been a little more strong-minded.”
“Have you suffered so very heavily, father?” said Dinah, who forced herself to be calm and speak.
“Suffered! Oh, yes, my dear, in mind as well as pocket. You were right, my child; he is all that is honourable and true. But it is very humiliating—very lowering to the spirit of an old soldier.”
“To find that you have mistrusted him, father?”
“Er—er—yes, my dear; but—but—there I will be frank with you. I did not mean that.”
“Father, you are keeping something from me.”
“Yes, my dear, I am,” said the Major hurriedly; “but Dinah, my dear, I have not accepted yet. The fact is, I have lost all, my dear—at least all but a beggarly pittance saved out of the wreck; and Clive—God bless him for a true gentleman!”
Dinah’s arms were round her father’s neck, as the love-light shone in her eyes, and she laid her cheek upon his shoulder.
“Well, yes, my dear, he is; and I suppose with all his simplicity and want of ostentation he is very rich. His house in town is—ah, well, never mind that! He insists upon giving me as many shares in the mine as I fooled away.”