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?" She scarcely looked at the ring, so great was her embarrassment. That the present of one lover should be brought back to her by another was an awkward, almost humiliating circumstance, Yet she was glad as well as ashamed. "Oh, Mr. Trelyon, how can I thank you?" she said in a low earnest voice. "All you seem to care for is to make other people happy. And the trouble you have taken, too!" She forgot to look at the ring, even when he pointed out how the washing in the sea had made it bright. She never asked about the dredging. Indeed, she was evidently disinclined to speak of this matter in any way, and kept the finger with the ring on it out of sight. "Mr. Trelyon," she said then with equal steadiness of voice, "I am going to ask something more from you; and I am sure you will not refuse it."