d: "doesn't
it, Miss Wenna?"

She certainly seemed pleased enough. She drank in the sweet fresh air;
she called attention to the pure rare colors of the sea and the green
uplands, the coolness of the woods through which they drove, the profuse
abundance of wild flowers along the banks; all things around her seemed
to have conspired to yield her delight, and a great happiness shone in
her eyes. Mr. Trelyon talked mostly to Mrs. Rosewarne, but his eyes
rarely wandered away for long from Wenna's pleased and radiant face; and
again and again he said to himself, "And if a simple drive on a spring
morning can give this child so great a delight, it is not the last that
she and I shall have together."

"Mrs. Rosewarne," said he, "I think your daughter has as much need of a
holiday as anybody. I don't believe there's a woman or girl in the
county works as hard as she does."

"I don't know whether she needs it," said Miss Wenna of herself, "but I
know that she enjoys it."

"I know what you'd enjoy a good deal better than merely getting out of
sight of your own door for a week or two," said he. "Wouldn't you like
to get clear away from England for six months, and go wandering about in
all sorts of fine places? Why, I could take such a trip in that time! I
should like to see what you'd say to some of the old Dutch towns and
their churches, and all that; then Cologne, you know, and a sail up the
Rhine to Mainz; then you'd go on to Bale and Geneva, and we'd get you a
fine big carriage, with the horses decorated with foxes' and pheasants'
tails, to drive you to Chamounix. Then, when you had gone tremulously
over the Mer de Glace, and kept your wits about you going down the
Mauvais Pas, I don't think you could do better than go on to the Italian
lakes--you never saw anything like them, I'll be bound--and Naples and
Florence. Would you come back by the Tyrol, and have a turn at Zurich
and Lucerne, with a long ramble through the Black Forest in a trap
resembling a ramshackle landau?"

"Thank you," said Wenna very cheerfully. "The sketch is delightful, but
I am pretty comfortable where I am."

"But this can't last," said he.

"And neither can my holidays," she answered.

"Oh, but they ought to," he retorted vehemently. "You have not half
enough amusement in your life: that's my opinion. You slave too much for
all those folks about Eglosilyan and their dozens of children. Why, you
don't get anything out of life as you ought to. W