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Although," she added, leaning a little towards him, "I am very much afraid that I see some signs of a relapse today. Don't bother about those horrid letters. Let me tell Mrs. Tresfarwin to pack us up some lunch, and take me to Hanging Tor, please!" Wingrave laughed a little unsteadily as he rose to his feet. One day more, then! Why not? The end would be soon enough!...
"This is Lady Ruth Barrington," Wingrave said; "my ward, Miss Juliet Lundy." "Your ward?" Lady Ruth said, gazing at her intently. Juliet nodded. "Sir Wingrave has been very kind to me since I was a child," she said softly. "He has let me live here with Mrs. Tresfarwin, and I am afraid I sometimes forget that it is not really my home. Am I in the way?" she asked, looking wistfully towards Wingrave.
"And how old are you?" "Fourteen next birthday." "And all that time," he asked, "has there been no one living at Tredowen?" "No one except Mrs. Tresfarwin," she answered. "It belongs to a very rich man who is in prison." Wingrave's face was immovable. He stood on one side, however, and turned towards his companion.
Tresfarwin like London?" Juliet laughed merrily. "Isn't it amusing?" she declared. "She loves it! She grumbles at the milk, and we have the butter from Tredowen. Everything else she finds perfection. She doesn't even mind the five flights of stone steps." "Social problems," Wingrave remarked, "do not trouble her." "Not in the least," Juliet declared.
"If only we had had the slightest idea of your coming," Miss Harrison said for the tenth time, "we would have made more adequate preparations. The wine cellar, at least, could have been opened. I allowed Mr. and Mrs. Tresfarwin to go for their holiday only yesterday, and the cellars, of course, are never touched." "Your claret was excellent," Wingrave assured her.
"It was scarcely like that," Aynesworth explained. "I met her and Mrs. Tresfarwin on the way there, and asked to be allowed to accompany them. Mrs. Tresfarwin was once your housekeeper, I think, at Tredowen." "And did you solve the mystery of this relation of her father who turned up so opportunely?" Wingrave asked. Aynesworth shook his head. "She told me nothing about him," he answered.
Tresfarwin dozed and blinked and dozed again and on her left Aynesworth himself, a little affected by the music, still found time to glance continually at his companion, so radiant with life and so fervently intent upon realizing to the full this, the first of its unknown joys. So with crashing of chords and thunder of melody the act went on.
Your affectionate ward, Juliet." Juliet went out and posted her letter. On the way back she met Aynesworth. "Come and sit in the Park for a few minutes," he begged. She turned and walked by his side willingly enough. "Have you been in to see me?" she asked. "Yes!" he answered. "I have some tickets for the Haymarket for tonight. Do you think we could persuade Mrs. Tresfarwin to come?"
She was perceptibly thinner, and there were black rings under her eyes. "Where is Mrs. Tresfarwin?" he asked. "In Cornwall," she answered. "Why?" "I could not afford to keep her here any longer." "What are you doing for a living painting still?" She shook her head a little piteously. "They can't sell any more of my pictures," she said.
They stood face to face with her upon the narrow path. "Have you lost your way?" she inquired politely. "We were told," Aynesworth answered, "that there was a gate in the wall there, through which we could get on to the cliffs." "Who told you so?" she asked. "The housekeeper," Aynesworth answered. "I will not attempt to pronounce her name." "Mrs. Tresfarwin," the child said.
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