One day, later on in the year, Mrs. Trelyon sent down the wagonette for her, with the request that she would come up to the Hall for a few minutes.  Wenna obeyed the summons, imagining that some business connected with the sewing club claimed her attention.  When she arrived she found Mrs. Trelyon unable to express the gladness and gratitude that filled her heart; for before her were certain London newspapers, and, behold!  Harry Trelyon’s name was recorded there in certain lists as having scored a sufficient number of marks in the examination to entitle him to a first commission.  It was no concern of hers that his name was pretty far down in the list—­enough that he had succeeded somehow.  And who was the worker of this miracle?—­who but the shy, sad-eyed girl standing beside her, whose face wore now a happier expression than it had worn for many a day.

“And this is what he says,” the proud mother continued, showing Wenna a letter:  ’"It isn’t much to boast of, for indeed you’ll see by the numbers that it was rather a narrow squeak:  anyhow, I pulled through.  My old tutor is rather a speculative fellow, and he offered to bet me fifty pounds his coaching would carry me through, which I took; so I shall have to pay him that besides his fees.  I must say he has earned both:  I don’t think a more ignorant person than myself ever went to a man to get crammed.  I send you two newspapers:  you might drop one at the inn for Miss Rosewarne any time you are passing, or if you could see her and tell her, perhaps that would be better.’”

Wenna was about as pleased and proud as Mrs. Trelyon was.  “I knew he could do it if he tried,” she said quietly.

“And then,” the mother went on to say, “when he has once joined there will be no money wanting to help him to his promotion; and when he comes back to settle down here, he will have some recognized rank and profession, such as a man ought to have.  Not that he will remain in the army, for of course I should not like to part with him, and he might be sent to Africa or Canada or the West Indies. You know,” she added with a smile, “that it is not pleasant to have any one you care for in the West Indies.”

When Wenna got home again she told Mabyn.  Strange to say, Mabyn did not clap her hands for joy, as might have been expected.

“Wenna,” said she, “what made him go into the army?  Was it to show you that he could pass an examination? or was it because he means to leave England?”

“I do not know,” said Wenna, looking down.  “I hope he does not mean to leave England.”  That was all she said.