"Really, Miss Mullion, my poor girl," he said, rising, "I fear you are ill." "Ill!" she said sharply; "very ill, but not so ill but that I can come to you now and ask for reparation for my wrongs." "Ask me, Miss Mullion? Poor soul!" he muttered; "she takes me for Trethick." Madge heard his words, and if any spark of love or passion remained for him in her breast, those words crushed it out. The weak girl had indeed become a woman now--a woman and a mother; and if John Tregenna, in a fit of remorse, had asked her then to be his wife, she would have refused, and gone on bearing the burthen of her shame. "You pitiful, contemptible snake!" she said, speaking now in a low voice that thrilled him through and through. "I am mad, am I, John Tregenna? No, not now. I was mad to listen to and trust you--mad to believe that you would keep your word--mad, if you will, to take upon my poor weak shoulders the sin that was yours more than mine." "Miss Mullion!" exclaimed Tregenna, rising. "I must put an end to this painful interview;" and he laid his hand upon the bell. "Do you wish Mr Chynoweth to hear what I am saying to you--what I intend to say to Rhoda Penwynn to-night when she returns from Truro-- what I should have said to her to-day, after I had left you, had she been at home? If so, ring." Tregenna showed the first sign of weakness; his hand dropped from the bell, and he started as he heard poor Madge's bitter laugh, realising more fully now than ever that the enemy in his path, instead of being a weak, helpless girl, had grown into a dangerous woman. He had made a false step in his defence; but it was too late to retreat, and he kept boldly on. "My poor girl," he said kindly, "it would be affectation to pretend that I did not know your troubles, but pray be calm. Let me send some one with you home." "You pitiful coward!" she said again, and there was an intensity of scorn in her words that thrilled him through; "do you think if I had known you as I know you now that I would have kept your wretched secret?" "Miss Mullion--" "Have let insult, misery, and injury fall upon others' heads, till I have been heart-broken over their sorrows, and yet in faith to you I would not speak. But it is over now. Mr Trethick knows the truth. To-night Rhoda Penwynn will know the truth. I came to you now more in sorrow than anger, believing that when you saw me, even if the report was true, that the sight of my poor thin face, and what you could read there of my sufferings, would move you to some show of pity for your miserable victim; but instead--Oh, God of heaven!" she exclaimed passionately, "how could I ever love this man?" "Is any thing the matter, sir?" said Mr Chynoweth, opening the door. "Did you call?" "No. Yes, Mr Chynoweth," exclaimed Tregenna, excitedly. "This poor girl. She ought not to be away from home alone. I don't think,"--(he touched his forehead).