to St. Gwennis. Wenna, I _must_ go over to St. Gwennis before lunch; and
father won't let me have anybody to drive. Do you hear, Wenna?"

Then she went out and down into the kitchen, where she bothered Jennifer
for a few minutes until she had got an iron heated at the fire. With
this implement she carefully smoothed out the crumpled letter, and then
she as carefully folded it, took it up stairs, and put it safely away in
her own desk. She had just time to write a few lines:

"DEAR MR. TRELYON: Do you know what news I have got to tell you?
Can you guess? The engagement between Mr. Roscorla and Wenna
_is broken off_; and I have got in my possession the letter
in which he sets her free. If you knew how glad I am! I should
like to cry 'Hurrah! hurrah!' all through the streets of
Eglosilyan; and I think every one else would do the same if only
they knew. Of course she is very much grieved, for he has been
most insulting. I cannot tell you the things he has said: you
would kill him if you heard them. But she will come round very
soon, I know: and then she will have her freedom again, and no
more emerald rings, and letters all filled with arguments. Would
you like to see her, Mr. Trelyon? But don't come yet--not for a
long time: she would only get angry and obstinate. I'll tell you
when to come; and in the mean time, you know, she is still
wearing your ring, so that you need not be afraid. How glad I
shall be to see you again! Yours most faithfully,

"MABYN ROSEWARNE."

She went down stairs quickly and put this letter in the letter-box.
There was an air of triumph on her face. She had worked for this
result--aided by the mysterious powers of Fate, whom she had conjured to
serve her--and now the welcome end of her labors had arrived. She bade
the hostler get out the dog-cart, as if she were the queen of Sheba
going to visit Solomon. She went marching up to her sister's room,
announcing her approach with a more than ordinarily accurate rendering
of "Oh, the men of merry, merry England!" so that a stranger might have
fancied that he heard the very voice of Harry Trelyon, with all its
unmelodious vigor, ringing along the passage.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE EXILE'S RETURN.

Perhaps you have been away in distant parts of the earth, each day
crowded with new experiences and slowly obscuring the clear pictures of
England with which you left: perhaps you have