of Penzance, and St. Michael's
Mount, and the Lizard in the background, with France in the remote
distance."

"Dear, _dear_ me! quite a geographical study, I declare," exclaimed
Secretary Jack, examining the painting with some care. "Can you really
see all these places at once from Wheal Dooem?"

"Not exactly from Wheal Dooem, Jack, but if you were to go up in a
balloon a few hundred yards above the spot where it stands, you might
see 'em all on a very clear day, if your eyes were good. The fact is,
that I regard this picture as a triumph of art, exhibiting powerfully
what is by artists termed `bringing together' and great `breadth,'
united with exceedingly minute detail. The colouring too, is high--very
high indeed, and the _chiaroscuro_ is perfect--"

"Ha!" interposed Jack, "all the _chiar_ being on the surface, and the
_oscuro_ down in the mine, eh?"

"Exactly so," replied Clearemout. "It is a splendid picture. The
artist regards it as his _chef_ _d'oeuvre_, and you must explain it to
all who come to the office, as well as those magnificent geological
sections rolled-up in the corner, which it would be well, by the way, to
have hung up without delay. They arrived only this morning. And now,
Jack, having explained these matters, I will leave you, to study them at
your leisure, while I prepare for my journey to Cornwall, where, by the
way, I have my eye upon a sweet little girl, whose uncle, I believe, has
lots of tin, both in the real and figurative sense of the word.
Something may come of it--who knows?"

Next morning saw the managing director on the road, and in due time he
found his way by coach, kittereen, and gig to St. Just, where, as
before, he was hospitably received by old Mr Donnithorne.

That gentleman's buoyancy of spirit, however, was not quite so great as
it had been a few months before, but that did not much affect the
spirits of Clearemout, who found good Mrs Donnithorne as motherly, and
Rose Ellis as sweet, as ever.

It happened at this time that Oliver Trembath had occasion to go to
London about some matter relating to his deceased mother's affairs, so
the managing director had the field all to himself. He therefore spent
his time agreeably in looking after the affairs of Wheal Dooem during
the day, and making love to Rose Ellis in the evening.

Poor Rose was by no means a flirt, but she was an innocent,
straightforward girl, ignorant of many of the world's ways, and of a
trusting