“Indeed,” said the mother sadly, “it is no thought of marriage that is in Wenna’s head just now.  The poor girl is full of remorse and apprehension.  I think she would like to start at once for Jamaica, and fling herself at Mr. Roscorla’s feet and confess her fault.  I am glad she has to go back to Eglosilyan:  that may distract her mind in a measure:  at present she is suffering more than she shows.”

“Where is she?”

“In her own room, tired out and fast asleep.  I looked in a few minutes ago.”

Mabyn went up stairs, after having seen that Jennifer had properly bestowed her box.  Wenna had just risen from the sofa, and was standing in the middle of the room.  Her younger and taller sister went blithely forward to her, kissed her as usual, took no notice of the sudden flush of red that sprang into her face, and proceeded to state, in a business-like fashion, all the arrangements that had to be made.

“Have you been enjoying yourself, Wenna?” Mabyn said with a fine air of indifference.

“Oh yes,” Wenna answered; adding hastily, “Don’t you think mother is greatly improved?”

“Wonderfully!  I almost forgot she was an invalid.  How lucky you are to be going back to see all the fine doings at the Hall!  Of course they will ask you up.”

“They will do nothing of the kind,” Wenna said with some asperity, and with her face turned aside.

“Lord and Lady Amersham have already come to the Hall.”

“Oh, indeed!”

“Yes.  They said some time ago that there was a good chance of Mr. Trelyon marrying the daughter—­the tall girl with yellow hair, you remember?”

“And the stooping shoulders?  Yes.  I should think they would be glad to get her married to anybody.  She’s thirty.”

“Oh, Wenna!”

“Mr. Trelyon told me so,” said Wenna sharply.

“And they are a little surprised,” continued Mabyn in the same indifferent way, but watching her sister all the while, “that Mr. Trelyon has remained absent until so near the time.  But I suppose he means to take Miss Penaluna with him.  She lives here, doesn’t she?  They used to say there was a chance of a marriage there too.”

“Mabyn, what do you mean?” Wenna said suddenly and angrily.  “What do I care about Mr. Trelyon’s marriage?  What is it you mean?”

But the firmness of her lips began to yield:  there was an ominous trembling about them, and at the same moment her younger sister caught her to her bosom, and hid her face there and hushed her wild sobbing.  She would hear no confession.  She knew enough.  Nothing would convince her that Wenna had done anything wrong, so there was no use speaking about it.

“Wenna,” she said in a low voice, “have you sent him any message?”

“Oh no, no!” the girl said trembling.  “I fear even to think of him; and when you mentioned his name, Mabyn, it seemed to choke me.  And now I have to go back to Eglosilyan; and oh, if you only knew how I dread that, Mabyn!”