"Mr Tregenna," said Rhoda, coldly, "this is a matter I am not bound to confess to you, but you will please recollect that I told you I had no prior attachment." "Yes, yes," he exclaimed hastily. "I had forgotten. I was mad. Pray forgive me, Rhoda. But listen, pray listen. You cannot think how cruelly this cuts me to the heart." "I grieve to cause you pain, Mr Tregenna," said Rhoda, "but you must give me credit for the fact that this has been none of my seeking. I must ask you now to let me bring what has been a most painful interview to an end." "Painful?" he cried passionately. "It is death to all my hopes. But I cannot accept this as final. Time will work a change." "Time will work no change, Mr Tregenna," said Rhoda, firmly. "As my father's friend I have heard you out, and I have tried to reply as kindly as I could." Tregenna saw that he would be only injuring his cause by pressing his suit, and he desisted; but there was a curious look in his eye, which made Rhoda shiver, as he exclaimed,-- "But the future, Rhoda--Miss Penwynn--dear Miss Penwynn? I am not to take this as a complete dismissal from your presence." "Mr Tregenna," replied Rhoda, "I have told you plainly that I can never become your wife. If I have been too blunt, or seemed unmaidenly, you must forgive it, and recollect that I have never known a mother's care, but from a child had to assume a woman's duties as the mistress of this house. As to the future--you are my father's friend." "And yours," he cried eagerly. "My father's friends are my friends," said Rhoda, rather coldly. "We will then henceforth consider the words which you have addressed to me to-night as having never been spoken." "As you will," he said hoarsely; "but so long as this heart continues to beat I shall--" "Mr Tregenna," exclaimed Rhoda, rising, and speaking with dignity, "you are hurt and grieved, but I must ask your forbearance in this." "Forgive me," he said humbly, as he bent down his head, and hid the strange look that crossed his face, "it shall be as you wish. We are friends, then. What shall we talk about now," he added, with an almost imperceptible sneer, "books or flowers?" "I was about to ask you what you think of our guests," said Rhoda, trying to be calm and unconcerned, for Tregenna made no effort to leave her. "Indeed!" he said listlessly, sinking back in his seat as Rhoda took a chair at a short distance. "Do you wish to know?" "Yes, I should be glad to hear." "Well," he said cynically, "my honest conviction about our new vicar is that he is a conceited, self-sufficient University prig, stuffed full of classics, and no more suited to manage the people of these parts than that rather obtrusive, stubborn-looking gentleman, Trethick, is to make his way amongst our miners. They will both come to grief." "Do you think so?" "Undoubtedly. One will stay three months, and then exchange; the other three weeks, and then probably go abroad."