ble, he reasoned, that Trevethick had no decisive reply to give
him. He had doubtless written to Mr. Whymper, and learned all that
Richard had already divulged to him--and no more; that is to say, that
he was, though an unacknowledged offspring of the Squire, in a very
different position, at all events, toward him than that of a mere
natural son. Trevethick could not have heard less--that is, less to his
advantage--or he certainly would not have kept silence for so long.

Such was the state of affairs at Gethin. Harry with her two suitors; her
father with his two expectant sons-in-law, each of whom had more or less
of reason for his expectation. Though Richard might be satisfied with
it, it was clear it could not last forever--nor for long. The day on
which the change took place, though it was in no wise remarkable in
other respects, he never forgot: every incident connected with it,
though disregarded at the time, impressed itself upon his mind, to be
subsequently dwelt upon a thousand times. It might have been marked in
the hitherto sunny calendar of his life as the "Last day of Thoughtless
Gayety. Here Love and Pleasure end."

It was fine weather, and there were more tourists at the inn than could
be accommodated, so Richard had given up his private sitting-room to
their temporary use. This, however, did not throw him more in Harry's
society than usual, since their presence naturally much occupied her
time. He had not, indeed, seen her since the mid-day meal which he had
taken in the bar parlor; but she had promised, if she could get away, to
call for him at a certain spot where he had gone to sketch--the
church-yard on the hill. The attraction of the castled rock was such
that few visitors sought the former spot, notwithstanding its
picturesque and wild position. How the church maintained itself on that
elevated and unsheltered hill, despite such winds as swept it in the
winter, was almost a miracle: but there it stood--as it had done for
centuries--gray, solitary, sublime. It was of considerable size, but
small in comparison with its God's-acre, which was of vast extent, and
only sparsely occupied by graves. The bare and rocky moor was almost
valueless; it is as easy for one duly qualified to consecrate a square
mile as an acre; and the materials of the low stone wall that marked its
limits had been close at hand. In one or two spots only did the dead lie
thickly; where shipwrecked mariners--the very names of whom