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Updated: June 12, 2025
"'Tis a noble beast, sir a noble beast," the farmer said; and he would probably have gone on to state what ideal animal had been constructed by his lavish imagination had not a man come running up at this moment, breathless and almost speechless. "Rosewarne," stammered Mr. Roscorla, "a a word with you! I want to say "
"Why, Harry," said his mother, with her eyes wide open, "I thought you had a great respect for Miss Rosewarne." "I have," he said abruptly "far too great a respect to like the notion of her marrying that old fool." "Would you rather not have him to dinner?" "Oh, I should like to have him to dinner." For one evening, at least, this young man considered, these two would be separated.
George Rosewarne was heartily glad to exchange the one daughter for the other. Mabyn was too independent; she thwarted him; sometimes she insisted on his bestirring himself. Wenna, on the other hand, went about the place like some invisible spirit of order, making everything comfortable for him without noise or worry.
An old man with very bandy legs came hobbling out of the toll-house, and went to open the gate, talking and muttering to himself: "Ay, ay! so yü be agwoin' after the young uns, Maister Rosewarne? Ay, ay! yü'll go up many a lane and by many a fuzzy 'ill, and acrass a bridge or two, afore yü come up wi' 'en, Maister Rosewarne." "Look sharp, Job!" said Rosewarne. "Carriage been through here lately?"
In that case George Rosewarne inwardly resolved that they might go to Plymouth, or into the deep sea beyond, before he would injure his favorite cob. On the other hand, he could not bring them to a standstill by threatening to shoot at his own daughters, even if he had had anything with him that would look like a pistol. Should he have to rely, then, on the moral terrors of a parent's authority?
All these things Wenna thought of in after days, until the odd and plain little harbor of Lamorna, and its rocks and bushes and slopes of granite, seemed to be some bit of Fairyland, steeped in the rich hues of the sunset, and yet ethereal, distant and unrecoverable. Mrs. Rosewarne did not at all understand the silence of these young people, and made many attempts to break it up.
He would tell her who this girl was who had been lightly mentioned. And in his blunt, frank, matter-of-fact way, which did not quite conceal his emotion, he revealed to his cousin all that he thought of Wenna Rosewarne, and what he hoped for her in the future, and what their present relations were, and then plainly asked her if she could condemn him.
"Harry," said his cousin, "I strictly forbid you to mention that gentleman's name." "Why, Jue?" he said. "Because I will not listen to the bad language you invariably use whenever you speak of him; and you ought to remember that you are in a clergyman's house. I wonder Miss Rosewarne is not ashamed to have your acquaintance, but I dare say you amend your ways when you are in her presence.
"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?
Every bit of the place, too, was associated somehow with Wenna Rosewarne. He could see the seat fronting the Atlantic on which she used to sit and sew on the fine summer forenoons.
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