time to catch the half-past six
train to Plymouth, where he would get the proper apparatus, and return
in the morning.

"It was a pretty ring," said he. "There were six stones in it, weren't
there?"

"Five," she said. So much she knew, though it must be confessed she
had not studied that token of Mr. Roscorla's affection with the
earnest solicitude which most young ladies bestow on the first gift of
their lovers.

Trelyon jumped into a fly and drove off to the station, where he sent
back an apology to Mr. Grainger. Wenna went home more perturbed than
she had been for many a day, and that not solely on account of the
lost ring.

Everything seemed to conspire against her and keep her from carrying
out her honorable resolutions. That sail in the afternoon she could
not well have avoided, but she had determined to take some;
opportunity of begging Mr. Trelyon not to visit them again while they
remained in Penzance. Now, however, he was coming next day, and
whether or not he was successful in his quest after the missing ring,
would she not have to show herself abundantly grateful for all his
kindness?

In putting away her gloves she came upon the letter of Mr. Roscorla,
which she had not yet answered. She shivered slightly: the handwriting
on the envelope seemed to reproach her. And yet something of a
rebellious spirit rose in her against this imaginary accusation; and
she grew angry that she was called upon to serve this harsh and
inconsiderate task-master, and give him explanations which humiliated
her. He had no right to ask questions about Mr. Trelyon. He ought not
to have listened to idle gossip. He should have had sufficient faith
in her promised word; and if he only knew the torture of doubt and
anxiety she was suffering on his behalf--She did not pursue these
speculations farther, but it was well with Mr. Roscorla that she did
not at that moment sit down and answer his letter.

CHAPTER XXVII.

FURTHER ENTANGLEMENTS.

"Mother," said Wenna that night, "what vexed you so this morning? Who
was the woman who went by?"

"Don't ask me, Wenna," the mother said rather uneasily. "It would do
you no good to know. And you must not speak of that woman: she is too
horrid a creature to be mentioned by a young girl, ever." Wenna
looked surprised, and then she said warmly, "And if she is so, mother,
how could you ask Mr. Trelyon to have anything to do with her? Why
should you send, for him? Why should he be sp