rude and subterranean people had now
assembled to hear the discussion--"Has Sir Geoffrey, think you, ever put
a penny in his pouch out of this same Bonadventure mine?"

"I cannot say as I think he has," answered old Ditchley, the party who
maintained the controversy.

"Answer on your conscience, though it be but a leaden one. Do not you
know that he hath lost a good penny?"

"Why, I believe he may," said Gaffer Ditchley. "What then!--lose to-day,
win to-morrow--the miner must eat in the meantime."

"True; but what will you eat when Master Bridgenorth gets the land, that
will not hear of a mine being wrought on his own ground? Will he work on
at dead loss, think ye?" demanded trusty Lance.

"Bridgenorth?--he of Moultrassie Hall, that stopped the great Felicity
Work, on which his father laid out, some say, ten thousand pounds,
and never got in a penny? Why, what has he to do with Sir Geoffrey's
property down here at Bonadventure? It was never his, I trow."

"Nay, what do I know?" answered Lance, who saw the impression he had
made. "Law and debt will give him half Derbyshire, I think, unless you
stand by old Sir Geoffrey."

"But if Sir Geoffrey be dead," said Ditchley cautiously, "what good will
our standing by do to him?"

"I did not say he was dead, but only as bad as dead; in the hands of the
Roundheads--a prisoner up yonder, at his own Castle," said Lance;
"and will have his head cut off, like the good Earl of Derby's at
Bolton-le-Moors."

"Nay, then, comrades," said Gaffer Ditchley, "an it be as Master Lance
says, I think we should bear a hand for stout old Sir Geoffrey, against
a low-born mean-spirited fellow like Bridgenorth, who shut up a shaft
had cost thousands, without getting a penny profit on't. So hurra for
Sir Geoffrey, and down with the Rump! But hold ye a blink--hold"--(and
the waving of his hand stopped the commencing cheer)--"Hark ye, Master
Lance, it must be all over, for the beacon is as black as night; and you
know yourself that marks the Lord's death."

"It will kindle again in an instant," said Lance; internally adding, "I
pray to God it may!--It will kindle in an instant--lack of fuel, and the
confusion of the family."

"Ay, like enow, like enow," said Ditchley; "but I winna budge till I see
it blazing."

"Why then, there a-goes!" said Lance. "Thank thee, Cis--thank thee, my
good wench.--Believe your own eyes, my lads, if you will not believe
me; and now hurra for Peveril of the Peak