ters. She would even write to
Mabyn, and beg of her to take no notice of that angry remonstrance.

Then Wenna thought of her mother, and how she ought to tell her of all
these things. But how could she? During the past day or two Mrs.
Rosewarne had been at times singularly fretful and anxious. No letter
had come from her husband. In vain did Wenna remind her that men were
more careless of such small matters than women, and that it was too
soon to expect her father to sit down and write. Mrs. Rosewarne sat
brooding over her husband's silence; then she would get up in an
excited fashion and declare her intention of going straight back to
Eglosilyan; and these fitful moods prayed on the health of the
invalid. Ought Wenna to risk increasing her anxiety by telling her
this strange tale? She would doubtless misunderstand it. She might be
angry with Harry Trelyon. She would certainly be surprised that Wenna
had given him permission to see her again--not knowing that the girl,
in her forced composure, had been talking to him as if this avowal of
his were of no great moment.

All the same, Wenna had a secret fear that she had been imprudent in
giving him this permission; and the most she could do now was to make
his visits as few, short and ceremonious as possible. She would avoid
him by every means in her power; and the first thing was to make sure
that he should not call on them again while they remained in Penzance.

So she went down to the small parlor in a much more equable frame of
mind, though her heart was still throbbing in an unusual way. The
moment she entered the room she saw that something had occurred to
disturb her mother. Mrs. Rosewarne turned from the window, and there
was an excited look in her eyes. "Wenna," she said hurriedly, "did you
see that carriage? Did you see that woman? Who was with her? Did you
see who was with her? I know it was she: not if I live a hundred years
could I forget that--that devil in human shape!"

"Mother, I don't know what you mean," Wenna said, wholly aghast.

Her mother had gone to the window again, and she was saying to
herself, hurriedly and in a low voice, "No, you don't know--you don't
know: why should you know? That shameless creature! And to drive by
here! She must have known I was here. Oh, the shamelessness of the
woman!"

She turned to Wenna again: "Wenna, I thought Mr. Trelyon was here. How
long has he gone? I want to see him most particularly--most
particularly, a