back to attain some other object here," said Mr. Roscorla.

"Then we'll soon find you that," the general burst in. "No man lives
out of England who can help it. Don't you find in this country enough
to satisfy you?"

"Indeed I do," Mr. Roscorla said, "especially within the last few
days. I have enjoyed myself enormously. I shall always have a friendly
recollection of Brighton."

"Are you going down to Cornwall before you leave?" Sir Percy asked.

"No," said he slowly.

"That isn't quite so cheerful as Brighton, eh?"

"Not quite."

He kept his word. He did not go back to Cornwall before leaving
England, nor did he send a single line or message to any one there. It
was with something of a proud indifference that he set sail, and also
with some notion that he was being amply revenged. For the rest, he
hated "scenes," and he had encountered quite enough of these during
his brief visit to Eglosilyan.

CHAPTER XL.

AN OLD LADY'S APOLOGY.

When Wenna heard that Mr. Roscorla had left England without even
bidding her good-bye by letter, she accepted the rebuke with
submission, and kept her own counsel. She went about her daily duties
with an unceasing industry: Mrs. Trelyon was astonished to see how she
seemed to find time for everything. The winter was coming on, and the
sewing club was in full activity, but even apart from the affairs of
that enterprise, Wenna Rosewarne seemed to be everywhere throughout
the village, to know everything, to be doing everything that prudent
help and friendly counsel could do. Mrs. Trelyon grew to love the girl
in her vague, wondering, simple fashion.

So the days and the weeks and the months went by, and the course of
life ran smoothly and quietly in the remote Cornish village.
Apparently there was nothing to indicate the presence of bitter
regrets, of crushed hopes, of patient despair; only Mabyn used to
watch her sister at times, and she fancied that Wenna's face was
growing thinner.

The Christmas festivities came on, and Mrs. Trelyon was pleased to
lend her protegee a helping hand in decorating the church. One evening
she said, "My dear Miss Wenna, I am going to ask you an impertinent
question. Could your family spare you on Christmas evening? Harry is
coming down from London: I am sure he would be so pleased to see you."

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Trelyon," Wenna said, with just a little
nervousness. "You are very kind, but indeed I must be at home on
Christmas evening.