Wenna was timid and a trifle sad: she
said little beyond "Yes, Mr. Trelyon," and "No, Mr. Trelyon," and even
that was said in low voice. As for him, he spoke to her gravely and
respectfully: it was already as if she were a mere stranger.
Had some of his old friends and acquaintances seen him now, they would
have been something more than astonished. Was this young man, talking
in a gentle and courteous fashion to his companion, and endeavoring to
interest her in the various things around her, the same daredevil lad
who used to clatter down the main street of Eglosilyan, who knew no
control other than his own unruly wishes, and who had no answer but a
mocking jest for any remonstrance?
"And how long do you remain in Penzance, Mr. Trelyon?" Mrs. Rosewarne
said at length.
"Until to-morrow, I expect," he answered.
"To-morrow?"
"Yes: I am going back to Eglosilyan. You know my mother means to give
some party or other on my coming of age, and there is so little of
that amusement going on at our house that it needs all possible
encouragement. After that I mean to leave Eglosilyan for a time."
Wenna said nothing, but her downcast face grew a little paler: it was
she who was banishing him.
"By the way," he continued with a smile, "my mother is very anxious
about Miss Wenna's return. I fancy she has been trying to go into that
business of the sewing club on her own account; and in that case she
would be sure to get into a mess.
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