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The distress she was obviously suffering was so great that he had almost a mind to take her at her word and leave the house without further ado. Just at this moment, when he was considering what would be the most generous thing to do, she seemed to nerve herself to speak to him, and in a low and measured voice she said, "Yes, I will tell you. I have had a letter this morning from Mr. Roscorla.
"Roscorla has a claim on her: this was my only chance, and I took it. Now look here, Mr. Rosewarne: you've a right to be angry and all that perhaps you are but what good will it do you to see Wenna left to marry Roscorla?" "What good will it do me?" said George Rosewarne pettishly. "I don't care which of you she marries." "Then you'll let us go on, dada?" Mabyn cried. "Will you come with us?
"Good Lord, Harry!" said the old lady nervously, looking at her grandson's face, "don't have a fight here." The next second Mr. Roscorla wheeled round, anxious about some luggage, and now it was his turn to stare in astonishment and anger anger, because he had been told that Harry Trelyon never came near Cornwall, and his first sudden suspicion was that he had been deceived.
As he did so he noticed that the young man was coolly abstracting the cartridge from a small breech-loading pistol he held in his hand. He put the cartridge in his waistcoat pocket and the pistol in his coat pocket. "Did you think we were savages out here, that you came armed?" said Roscorla, rather pale, but smiling. "I didn't know," said Trelyon.
Some very funny stories were told. Occasionally one or two names were introduced, as of persons well known in London society, though not of it; and Mr. Roscorla was surprised that he had never heard these names before: you see how one becomes ignorant of the world if one buries one's self down in Cornwall. Mr.
But it appeared that it was their custom after dinner to have the table-cover removed and some port wine placed on the mahogany. Mr. Roscorla, who had felt as yet no ugly sensations about his finger-joints, regarded this ceremony with equanimity, but it was made the subject of some ominous joking on the part of his companions. Then joking led to joking. There were no more politics.
I assure you the Hotel is most charming such freedom, and the pleasant parties they make up in the drawing-room! I believe they have a ball two or three nights a week just now." "I should have thought you would have found the rather quieter," said Mr. Roscorla, naming a good, old-fashioned house. "Rather quieter?" said the widow, raising her eyebrows. "Yes, a good deal quieter?
"What's it all about?" said he to Roscorla, who had followed him into the stable. "I suppose they mean a runaway match," said Mr. Roscorla, helping to saddle George Rosewarne's cob, a famous trotter. "It's that young devil's limb, Mabyn, I'll be bound," said the father. "I wish to Heaven somebody would marry her! I don't care who. She's always up to some confounded mischief."
"I should not be justified in throwing over any friend or acquaintance merely because Mr. Roscorla had heard rumors: I would not do it. He ought not to listen to such things: he ought to have greater faith in me. But at the same time I have asked Mr. Trelyon not to come here so often I have done so already; and after to-day, mother, the gossips will have nothing to report."
But, as it happened, Sir Percy and his wife had really made the acquaintance of both Wenna and Mabyn on their chance visit to Eglosilyan; and it was of these two girls they were speaking when Mr. Roscorla was announced in Mrs. Trelyon's drawing-room the following evening.
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