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Updated: June 12, 2025
Indeed, I think Miss Rosewarne has very much improved you in that respect; and it is very good advice she has given you now." "Oh yes, it is all very well to talk!" he said, impatiently. "Common sense is precious easy when you are quite indifferent. Of course she is quite indifferent, and she says, 'Don't trouble me, What can one do but go?
When a girl has to choose between a young lover and an elderly one, it isn't always good sense that directs her choice. Is Miss Wenna Rosewarne at all like her sister?" "She's not such a tomboy," he said, "but she is quite as straightforward and proud, and quick to tell you what is the right thing to do. There's no sort of shamming tolerated by these two girls.
Of course his grandfather had done boldly and well in whirling the girl off to the Scottish borders, for who could tell what might have befallen her among ill-natured relatives and persecuted suitors? Wenna Rosewarne was singing "We met, 'twas in a crowd, and I thought he would shun me."
Your heroic young man might find it easy to do something wild to fight with that gentleman in the West Indies, or murder him, or anything like that, just as you see in a story but perhaps Miss Rosewarne might have something to say." "I meant if she cared for him," Trelyon said, looking down.
Won't that do?" "I don't quite know about the elegance of the luncheon, but I'm sure our little excursion has been very pleasant. Don't you think so, Miss Rosewarne?" Mrs. Trelyon said. "Indeed I do," said Wenna, with her big, earnest eyes coming back from their trance. "And here is another thing," remarked young Trelyon.
Master Harry Trelyon was no great critic of music. When Wenna Rosewarne sang that night "She wore a wreath of roses," he fancied he had never listened to anything so pathetic. When she sang "Meet me by moonlight alone," he was delighted with the spirit and half-humorous, half-tender grace of the composition.
The infernal young fools!" said Rosewarne. "Why the devil didn't you stop them yourself?" "How could I?" Roscorla said, amazed that the father took the flight of his daughters with apparent equanimity. "You must make haste, Mr. Rosewarne, or you'll never catch them." "I've a good mind to let 'em go," said he sulkily as he walked over to the stables of the inn.
The thin, wiry, white-moustached old man, who had wonderfully bright eyes and a great vivacity of spirits for a veteran of seventy-four, was standing in front of the fire, and declaring to everybody that two such well-accomplished, smart, talkative and lady-like young women he had never met with in his life: "What did you say the name was, my dear Mrs. Trelyon? Rosewarne, eh? Rosewarne?
As Roscorla passed him there was a look in his eyes which rather startled George Rosewarne. "Is it possible," he asked himself, "that this elderly chap is really badly in love with our Wenna?" But another thought struck him.
Rosewarne was almost effusively grateful to him, and could only beg him a thousand times not to mention the subject to her daughter. "Oh, of course not," said he, rather bewildered. "But but I thought from the way in which she left the room that that perhaps I had offended her." "Oh no, I am sure that is not the case," said Mrs.
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