ses to the wagonette," the young man said, not very
graciously: and then Mrs. Trelyon went off to get ready.

It was a beautiful, fresh morning, the far-off line of the sea still
and blue, the sunlight lighting up the wonderful masses of primroses
along the tall banks, the air sweet with the resinous odor of the
gorse. Mrs. Trelyon looked with a gentle and childlike pleasure on
all these things, and was fairly inclined to be very friendly with the
young gentleman beside her. But he was more than ordinarily silent
and morose. Mrs. Trelyon knew she had done nothing to offend him, and
thought it hard she should be punished for the sins of anybody else.

He spoke scarcely a word to her as the carriage rolled along the
silent highways. He drove rapidly and carelessly down the steep
thoroughfare of Eglosilyan, although there were plenty of loose stones
about. Then he pulled sharply up in front of the inn, and George
Rosewarne appeared.

"Mr. Rosewarne, let me introduce you to my mother. She wants to see
Miss Wenna for a few moments, if she is not engaged."

Mr. Rosewarne took off his cap, assisted Mrs. Trelyon to alight, and
then showed her the way into the house.

"Won't you come in, Harry?" his mother said.

"No."

A man had come out to the horses' heads.

"You leave 'em alone," said the young gentleman: "I sha'n't get down."

Mabyn came out, her bright young face full of pleasure.

"How do you do, Mabyn?" he said coldly, and without offering to shake
hands.

"Won't you come in for a minute?" she said, rather surprised.

"No, thank you. Don't you stay out in the cold: you've got nothing
round your neck."

Mabyn went away without saying a word, but thinking that the coolness
of the air was much less apparent than that of his manner and speech.

Being at length left to himself, he turned his attention to the
horses before him, and eventually, to pass the time, took out his
pocket-handkerchief and began to polish the silver on the handle of
the whip. He was disturbed in this peaceful occupation by a very
timid voice, which said, "Mr. Trelyon." He turned round and found that
Wenna's wistful face was looking up to him, with a look in it
partly of friendly gladness and partly of anxiety and entreaty. "Mr.
Trelyon," she said, with her eyes cast down, "I think you are offended
with me. I am very sorry: I beg your forgiveness."

The reins were fastened up in a minute, and he was down in the road
beside her. "Now l