Wenna was standing at the open door to receive him when he came up stairs:  she had wholly forgotten the embarrassment of their last parting.

“I thought I should find you out,” he said when he came into the room, and it was clear that there was little embarrassment about him; “and I know how your mother likes to be teased and worried.  You’ve got a nice place here, Mrs. Rosewarne; and what splendid weather you’ve brought with you!”

“Yes,” said Wenna, her whole face lit up with a shy gladness, “haven’t we?  And did you ever see the bay looking more beautiful?  It is enough to make you laugh and clap your hands out of mere delight to see everything so lovely and fresh.”

“A few minutes ago I thought you were nearly crying over it,” said the mother with a smile, but Miss Wenna took no heed of the reproof.  She would have Mr. Trelyon help himself to a tumbler of claret and water.  She fetched out from some mysterious lodging-house recess an ornamented tin can of biscuits.  She accused herself of being the dullest companion in the world, and indirectly hinted that he might have pity on her mamma and stay to luncheon with them.

“Well, it’s very odd,” he said, telling a lie with great simplicity of purpose, “but I had arranged to drive to the Land’s End for luncheon—­to the inn there, you know.  I suppose it wouldn’t—­Do you think, Mrs. Rosewarne—­would it be convenient for you to come for a drive so far?”

“Oh, it would be the very best thing in the world for her—­nothing could be better,” said Wenna; and then she added meekly, “if it is not giving you too much trouble, Mr. Trelyon.”

He laughed:  “Trouble!  I’m glad to be of use to anybody; and in this case I shall have all the pleasure on my side.  Well, I’m off now to see about the horses.  If I come for you in half an hour, will that do?”

As soon as he had left Mrs. Rosewarne turned to her daughter and said to her, gravely enough, “Wenna, one has seldom to talk to you about the proprieties, but really this seems just a little doubtful.  Mr. Trelyon may make a friend of you—­that is all very well, for you are going to marry a friend of his—­but you ought not to expect him to associate with me.”

“Mother,” said Wenna with hot cheeks, “I wonder how you can suspect him of thinking of such foolish and wicked things.  Why, he is the very last man in all the world to do anything that is mean and unkind, or to think about it.”

“My dear child, I suspect him of nothing,” Mrs. Rosewarne said; “but look at the simple facts of the case.  Mr. Trelyon is a very rich gentleman; his family is an old one, greatly honored about here; and if he is so recklessly kind as to offer his acquaintanceship to persons who are altogether in a different sphere of life, we should take care not to abuse his kindness or to let people have occasion to wonder at him.  Looking at your marriage and future station, it is perhaps more permissible with you; but as regards myself, I don’t very much care, Wenna, to have Mr. Trelyon coming about the house.”