The girl put down her pen with some trace of vexation in her face:  “Yes indeed, mother.  How is one to explain delicate matters in a letter?  Every phrase seems capable of misconstruction.  And then the mischief it may cause!”

“But surely you don’t need to write with such care to Mr. Roscorla?”

Wenna colored slightly, and hesitated as she answered, “Well, mother, it is something peculiar.  I did not wish to trouble you, but, after all, I don’t think you will vex yourself about so small a thing.  Mr. Roscorla has been told stories about me.  He is angry that Mr. Trelyon should visit us so often.  And—­and—­I am trying to explain.  That is all, mother.”

“It is quite enough, Wenna; but I am not surprised.  Of course, if foolish persons liked to misconstrue Mr. Trelyon’s visits, they might make mischief.  I see no harm in them myself.  I suppose the young man found an evening at the inn amusing; and I can see that he likes you very well, as many other people do.  But you know how you are situated, Wenna.  If Mr. Roscorla objects to your continuing an acquaintance with Mr. Trelyon, your duty is clear.”

“I do not think it is, mother,” Wenna said, an indignant flush of color appearing in her face.  “I should not be justified in throwing over any friend or acquaintance merely because Mr. Roscorla had heard rumors:  I would not do it.  He ought not to listen to such things:  he ought to have greater faith in me.  But at the same time I have asked Mr. Trelyon not to come here so often—­I have done so already; and after to-day, mother, the gossips will have nothing to report.”

“That is better, Wenna,” the mother said.  “I shall be sorry myself to miss the young man, for I like him, but it is better you should attend to Mr. Roscorla’s wishes.  And don’t answer his letter in a vexed or angry way, Wenna.”

She was certainly not doing so.  Whatever she might be thinking, a deliberate and even anxious courtesy was visible in the answer she was sending him.  Her pride would not allow her to apologize for what had been done—­in which she had seen no wrong—­but as to the future she was earnest in her promises.  And yet she could not help saying a good word for Trelyon.

“You have known him longer than I,” she wrote, “and you know what his character is.  I could see nothing wrong in his coming to see my family and myself; nor did you say anything against him while you saw him with us.  I am sure you believe he is straightforward, honest and frank; and if his frankness sometimes verges upon rudeness, he is of late greatly improved in that respect, as in many others, and he is most respectful and gentle in his manners.  As for his kindness to my mother and myself, we could not shut our eyes to it.  Here is the latest instance of it, although I feel deeply ashamed to tell you the story.  We were returning in a small boat, and I was carelessly letting my hand drag through the water, when somehow the ring you gave me dropped off.