"Mercy," said the young man, "there was a time when my heart would have jumped at the word. It is gone. I have other thoughts now. Where am I going? By Castle Dinas to St. Ives. There will be some talk in the country before long." "What for, Edward?" Mercy asked. "They tell me I have scorned you into wild ways. I never scorned you, Edward. It is not fair of you to bring such a saying upon me. I wish to like you, and I thank you for liking me, but I do not like sulky love." "My love's anyhow honest," said Owen, "and that's more than you can say of...." "Now shame on you," cried the girl, interrupting him. "Will you say slander of a man behind his back? And to me, too, that know it is slander? And is that the way to change my mind?" "I have no hopes of that, Mercy," answered the rustic. "And, for your sake, I hope Michael's a better man than I think. Remember the evening under the thorns on the cliff. It is for you and not for me I say it. And methinks you haven't heard much of Michael since he went away to London." "Then I didn't ask your advice, Mr. Edward," said Mercy, "and you may as well keep it till I do. I dare say I can take care of myself. And very likely Michael has quite plenty to do in London without the writing of letters. And I expect he'll be down here before long, for I hear say that Pendar'l's getting ready for the ladies, if they're not there already. And then you can tell him what you think, like a man. So I wish you a good evening." "Good evening, Mercy," returned the young man, sadly, and they proceeded on their respective ways. Ready as the maiden was to defend her lover to another, she could not so easily excuse him to herself. And the anxiety, for the relief of which she had made her pilgrimage to St. Madron's Well, had come back before she reached her mother's cottage at Trevethlan, darkened rather than alleviated by the result of the expedition. CHAPTER V. Di, majorum umbris tenuem et sine pondere terram, Spirantesque crocos, et in urnà perpetuum ver, Qui præceptorem sancti voluere parentis Esse loco. Juvenal. Light lie the earth upon the shades of those, Flowers deck their graves, Spring dwell with their repose, Of old who deemed the teacher should supply The parent's holy rule, heart, hand, and eye. Meantime Michael Sinson's scheme was ripening into action. The plot matured in the metropolis was about to break on the towers of Trevethlan. Two gentlemen crossed one another in the hurry of Lincoln's Inn, and stopped to exchange a cordial greeting and a little chat. "By the by, Winter," said Mr. Truby, as they were parting, "we're bringing ejectment against a client of yours." "Indeed!" exclaimed the second lawyer, "and who may that be?" "Oh, the parties are old antagonists," answered the first. "It's by no means the first time we've met. Doc d Pendarrel _v._ Trevethlan. Clerk gone down to serve declaration and notice. You'll hear of it in a post or two."