“Ah, Clive, my boy,” he cried, winding in his line and speaking as if they had only parted the previous day, after a glance at Dinah’s eyes where the love-light burned brightly. “Glad to see you down again. Why didn’t you bring the Doctor?”
“He is rather in trouble about his daughter?”
“Ill?”
“Well, mentally more than bodily, sir. She is back home, and he will hardly leave her for a moment.”
“Home, eh? And her husband?”
“He is in New Zealand, and not likely to return.”
“So much the better for old England, my boy. Come along, you must be like me, hungry.”
They walked through the old wild garden, which looked more beautiful than ever; and Martha was ready to smile a welcome; while to Clive, as he let himself sink back in his old seat, it was as if he had at last found rest.
It was during a walk next morning with the Major, who took Clive round by the ‘White Virgin’ mine, that the old officer suddenly turned to him and said—
“Clive, my lad, the machinery here is to be sold next week.”