g her at once astonished
and indignant by his want of interest in what at one time had been his
only care.

Was this, then, the place in which he had chosen to spend the rest of
his life, without change, without movement, without interest? It seemed
to him at the moment a living tomb. There was not a human being within
sight. Far away out there lay the gray-blue sea--a plain without a speck
on it. The great black crags at the mouth of the harbor were voiceless
and sterile: could anything have been more bleak than the bare uplands
on which the pale sun of an English October was shining? The quiet
crushed him: there was not a nigger near to swear at, nor could he, at
the impulse of a moment, get on horseback and ride over to the busy and
interesting and picturesque scene supplied by his faithful coolies at
work.

What was he to do on this very first day in England, for example? Unpack
his luggage, in which were some curiosities he had brought home for
Wenna?--there was too much trouble in that. Walk about the garden and
smoke a pipe, as had been his wont?--he had got emancipated from these
delights of dotage. Attack his grocers' bills?--he swore by all his gods
that he would have nothing to do with the price of candles and cheese,
now or at any future time. The return of the exile to his native land
had already produced a feeling of deep disappointment: when he married,
he said to himself, he would take very good care not to sink into an
oyster-like life in Eglosilyan.

About a couple of hours after, however, he was reminded that Eglosilyan
had its small measure of society by the receipt of a letter from Mrs.
Trelyon, who said she had just heard of his arrival, and hastened to ask
him whether he would dine at the Hall, not next evening, but the
following one, to meet two old friends of his, General and Lady Weekes,
who were there on a brief visit.

"And I have written to ask Miss Rosewarne," Mrs. Trelyon continued, "to
spare us the same evening, so that we hope to have you both. Perhaps you
will kindly add your entreaties to mine."

The friendly intention of this post-script was evident, and yet it did
not seem to please Mr. Roscorla. This Sir Percy Weekes had been a friend
of his father's, and when the younger Roscorla was a young man about
town, Lady Weekes had been very kind to him, and had nearly got him
married once or twice. There was a great contrast between those days and
these. He hoped the old general woul