“It was a pretty ring,” said he.  “There were six stones in it, weren’t there?”

“Five,” she said.  So much she knew, though it must be confessed she had not studied that token of Mr. Roscorla’s affection with the earnest solicitude which most young ladies bestow on the first gift of their lovers.

Trelyon jumped into a fly and drove off to the station, where he sent back an apology to Mr. Grainger.  Wenna went home more perturbed than she had been for many a day, and that not solely on account of the lost ring.

Everything seemed to conspire against her and keep her from carrying out her honorable resolutions.  That sail in the afternoon she could not well have avoided, but she had determined to take some; opportunity of begging Mr. Trelyon not to visit them again while they remained in Penzance.  Now, however, he was coming next day, and whether or not he was successful in his quest after the missing ring, would she not have to show herself abundantly grateful for all his kindness?

In putting away her gloves she came upon the letter of Mr. Roscorla, which she had not yet answered.  She shivered slightly:  the handwriting on the envelope seemed to reproach her.  And yet something of a rebellious spirit rose in her against this imaginary accusation; and she grew angry that she was called upon to serve this harsh and inconsiderate task-master, and give him explanations which humiliated her.  He had no right to ask questions about Mr. Trelyon.  He ought not to have listened to idle gossip.  He should have had sufficient faith in her promised word; and if he only knew the torture of doubt and anxiety she was suffering on his behalf—­She did not pursue these speculations farther, but it was well with Mr. Roscorla that she did not at that moment sit down and answer his letter.

CHAPTER XXVII.

FURTHER ENTANGLEMENTS.

“Mother,” said Wenna that night, “what vexed you so this morning?  Who was the woman who went by?”

“Don’t ask me, Wenna,” the mother said rather uneasily.  “It would do you no good to know.  And you must not speak of that woman:  she is too horrid a creature to be mentioned by a young girl, ever.”  Wenna looked surprised, and then she said warmly, “And if she is so, mother, how could you ask Mr. Trelyon to have anything to do with her?  Why should you send, for him?  Why should he be spoken to about her?”

“Mr. Trelyon!” her mother said impatiently.  “You seem to have no thought now for anybody but Mr. Trelyon.  Surely the young man can take care of himself.”

The reproof was just:  the justice of it was its sting.  She was indeed thinking too much about the young man, and her mother was right in saying so; but who was to understand the extreme anxiety that possessed her to bring these dangerous relations to an end?

On the, following afternoon Wenna, sitting alone at the window, heard Trelyon enter below.  The young person who had charge of such matters allowed him to go up stairs and announce himself as a matter of course.  He tapped at the door and came into the room.  “Where’s your mother, Wenna?  The girl said she was here.  However, never mind:  I’ve brought you something that will astonish you.  What do you think of that?”