er
late adventure, induced Mr Donnithorne to hire a phaeton (he had
recently parted with his own) and drive over to Penberth.

Arrived there, he sauntered down to the cove to look after his nets--for
he dabbled in pilchard fishing as well as in other matters--and Rose
went off to have a quiet, solitary walk.

Thus it came to pass that she and Oliver Trembath suddenly met in a
lonely part of the road between Penberth and Penzance. Ah, those sudden
and unexpected meetings! How pleasant they are, and how well every one
who has had them remembers them!

"Miss Ellis!" exclaimed Oliver in surprise.

"Mr Trembath!" exclaimed Rose in amazement.

You see, reader, how polite they were, but you can neither see nor
conceive how great was the effort made by each to conceal the tumult
that agitated the breast and flushed the countenance, while the tongue
was thus ably controlled. It did not last long, however. Oliver, being
thrown off his guard, asked a number of confused questions, and Rose, in
her somewhat irrelevant replies, happened to make some reference to
"that villain Clearemout."

"Villain?" echoed Oliver in undisguised amazement.

"The villain," repeated Rose, with a flushed face and flashing eye.

"What? why? how?--really, excuse me, Miss Ellis--I--I--the villain--
Clearemout--you don't--"

There is no saying how many more ridiculous exclamations Oliver might
have made had not Rose suddenly said,--"Surely, Mr Trembath, you have
heard of his villainy?"

"No, never; not a word. Pray do tell me, Miss Ellis."

Rose at once related the circumstances of her late adventure, with much
indignation in her tone and many a blush on her brow.

Before she had half done, Oliver's powers of restraint gave way.

"Then you never loved him?" he exclaimed.

"Loved him, sir! I do not understand--"

"Forgive me, Rose; I mean--I didn't imagine--that is to say--oh! Rose,
can it be--is it possible--my _dear_ girl!"

He seized her hand at this point, and--but really, reader, why should we
go on? Is it not something like a violation of good taste to be too
particular here? Is it not sufficient to say that old Mr Donnithorne
came suddenly, and of course unexpectedly, on them at that critical
juncture, rendering it necessary for Rose to burst away and hide her
blushing face on her uncle's shoulder, while Oliver, utterly
overwhelmed, turned and walked (we won't say fled) at full speed in the
direction of the cove.

Here h