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Updated: June 7, 2025
Always Trelyon, always the recurrence of that uneasy consciousness of past events which divided these two as completely as the Atlantic had done! It was a strange meeting after that long absence. "It is a curious thing," he said rather desperately, "how marriage makes a husband and wife sure of each other. Anxiety is all over then.
"I tell you, grandmother, I have been hard at work in London. You can't look very brilliant after a few months in London." "And what keeps you in London at this time of the year?" said this plain-spoken old lady. "Your fancy about getting into the army? Nonsense, man! don't tell me such a tale as that. There's a woman in the case: a Trelyon never puts himself so much about from any other cause.
"At Plymouth Station, grandmother?" the young man said, becoming rather uneasy. "Yes. He got into the train just as we came up. A neatly-dressed man, gray hair and a healthy-looking face. I must have seen him somewhere about here before." "Roscorla is in Jamaica," said Trelyon positively.
Trelyon, do go away or you will get your death of cold," Mrs. Rosewarne said. "Leave Wenna to me. See, there is a gentleman who will lend you his horse, and you will get to your hotel directly." He did not even answer her. His own face was about as pale as that of the girl before him, and hers was that of a corpse.
The private door of the inn was at this moment opened: a warm glow of yellow streamed out into the darkness. "Good-night," said some one: was it Wenna? "Good-night," was the answer; and then the figure of a man passed down the road. Trelyon breathed more freely: at last his rival was out of the house. Wenna was now alone: would she go up into her own room and think over all the events of the day?
Trelyon, who said she had just heard of his arrival, and hastened to ask him whether he would dine at the Hall, not next evening, but the following one, to meet two old friends of his, General and Lady Weekes, who were there on a brief visit. "And I have written to ask Miss Rosewarne," Mrs. Trelyon continued, "to spare us the same evening, so that we hope to have you both.
The men took various chairs about; the conversation became general; old Lady Weekes feebly endeavored to keep up her eyelids. In about half an hour or so Mrs. Trelyon happened to glance round the room. "Where's Harry?" said she. No one apparently had noticed that Master Harry had disappeared.
That the present of one lover should be brought back to her by another was an awkward, almost humiliating circumstance, Yet she was glad as well as ashamed. "Oh, Mr. Trelyon, how can I thank you?" she said in a low earnest voice. "All you seem to care for is to make other people happy. And the trouble you have taken, too!"
Trelyon is a man, and like a man he has the courage to choose such friends as he likes; and it is no more to him what money they have or what their position is than the than the shape of their pocket-handkerchiefs is. Perhaps that is his folly, recklessness the recklessness of a young man. Perhaps it is. I am not old enough to know how people alter, but I hope I shall never see Mr.
Grainger was not only willing to lend the yacht, but also his own services to see that she properly received so distinguished a guest; whereupon Trelyon had to explain that he wanted the small craft merely to give a couple of ladies a sail for an hour or so. Then Mr.
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