"Look to the future! A future of sin is your suggestion."

"That's an ugly word. I don't like ugly things."

"But ugly things have ugly words, do they not?"

"You are too serious. Love should give pleasure. People were meant to be happy. Even companions were meant to be happy. I would make you happy. I would never let unhappiness touch you. I will give you a house in London, and there we shall be together. How can you stay here, buried away in the country ... in a position which, to say the best, is uncertain?" He broke into song:

"I would love you all the day ... Every night would kiss and play, If with me you'd fondly stray Over the hills and far away ..."

"Let us return, please ... the quickest way."

"Don't you like my singing? You do, I know. It draws you to me. Do you think I do not know?"

"Should you not be thinking of the effect of your singing on Caroline?"

"No. To Caroline I give marriage. I can spare nothing else for her."

"You are cynical."

"You mean I am truthful. Cynicism is a word the sentimental apply to truth. I could have made all sorts of false promises to you ... as the miller's daughter's lover did to her. But I would not. Think how I could have framed my proposal. I could have said: 'Melisande, elope with me to London. I will go off first and a few days later you must follow me.' That would have shifted suspicion from me, you see. Then I should have met you, gone through a ceremony of marriage—not a real one you understand. There are such things ... mock marriages. They have been going on for years. Then, you see, all would have been well until I was found out. Then you would have discovered that I was a scoundrel. Of course, I am a scoundrel, but I am an honest scoundrel. So I say to you: I love you. I love everything about you, even your prudery because it gives me something to overcome, and, by God, I will overcome it. I tell you the truth. I will never be a rogue in the guise of a saint. And I'll tell you this, Melisande: Look closely at the saints you meet in life. I'll warrant you'll find a little of the rogue in them. But you see, I'd rather be an honest bad man than a dishonest good one."

"Please to be silent," she said. "I have heard enough ... too much."

Strangely enough he obeyed her and soon they saw the town stretched out before them.

"Better skirt it," he said. "They would recognize us and we don't want any more unpleasantness, do we? We might not escape so easily this time, and although I'd be ready to tackle any of them single-handed for my lady's sake, I don't fancy facing a mob of hundreds."

She recognized that they were now on the right road. Yet how changed everything seemed. Life had become no longer simple. She had so much to fear; Caroline, Wenna, a cruel and angry mob ... and Fermor.

She took a quick glance at him. He was not in the least disturbed. She felt inexperienced and afraid. To whom could she go for advice? To Caroline? Impossible. To Sir Charles? He had been kind—he was still kind, yet he seemed remote. During those occasions when they were in each other's company she sensed in him an uneasiness. She believed that he avoided her; that he was anxious to prevent their ever being alone together. No, she could not ask him for advice. What of her friends in the servants' hall ? They were too garrulous, too fond of gossip. This was not only her trouble; it was also Caroline's.

She thought of the nun, as she had thought of her so many times before. She saw the nun as herself, the lover as Fermor. She feared that she was as weak as the nun; and surely the lover must have been very like Fermor.

She ought to go away—not only for her own sake but for that of Caroline. But where could she go?

He was watching her, she knew; and he was laughing at her. She believed he was clever enough to read her thoughts, evil enough to laugh at them. He was a bad man. He represented Men as the nuns thought of them. It was because of men like this one that they wished to shut themselves away from the world.

They left the high road and were within a mile of Trevenning. He broke into another of his songs.

"Shall I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair?"

She tried to urge her horse to go ahead of his, but he would not have it so; he kept level with her and went on with his song.

"If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go; For if she be not for me, What care I how fair she be?"

And so they came to Trevenning.

Wenna was sitting by Caroline's bed; she was stroking the girl's forehead with her cool fingers.

"What is it, my queen? Tell Wenna."

She was different from Miss Maud. She frightened Wenna. Miss Maud had tears for all occasions. Caroline hardly ever wept. There were times when Wenna thought there could have been comfort in tears.

Wenna could only guess what had happened. The four of them had set off together. Caroline and John Collings had come home first; after that Fermor had arrived with Melisande.

Caroline had seemed to wear a mask to hide her suffering, but no mask could deceive Wenna. God curse all men! thought Wenna. Oh, if only my little queen would have none of them! If only she'd throw his ring in his face, and tell her father she'd rather die than marry him! And what was he doing here! He ought to have gone back to London weeks ago. It was clear what he was doing. Thoughts danced in and out of Wenna's mind. She would like to see them both ridden out of the place. She'd play a whistle herself and dance to their riding; she would be the first to call obscenities after them.

When they had returned—those shameless ones—he had been blithe and gay, but she was afraid. She was not one to be able to hide her feelings. Her cheeks were scarlet, her eyes a more brilliant green than ever. Something had happened. Wenna could guess what. Oh shameful, shameful! In the open country, most like. There, soiling the good green earth, there among the flowers and grasses. It was doubly wicked that way.

Caroline had dressed herself in one of her loveliest dresses that evening. She had laughed and joked with her father—that old sinner—and the man she was to marry, that even greater young sinner. Oh, brave Miss Caroline, laughing with her heart breaking!

That imp of Satan had been put out of countenance though. She had had a tray sent to her room, and Wenna had seen Peg come out when she went to take it away, her lips greasy, still chewing. It looked as if Peg had had to finish her food for her. She had them all dancing to her tune. Mrs. Soady, Mr. Meaker, Peg and the rest... every fool of them.

I'd like to ill-wish her. I wish she was dead. Pd go along to a witch if I knew of one that did such things now, and I'd get a wax image of her and I'd stick pins in it every night, that I would. And I hope she finds trouble and he swears it weren't him. That I do. And I hope she dies... .

"Tell, my handsome. Tell Wenna. Caroline, my darling, tell Wenna."

"You know everything, Wenna, don't you?" said Caroline.

"Everything that concerns my lamb."

"Wenna, there's no one else I could talk to about this."

"Course there ain't. But there's Wenna. There's always Wenna. You'll be happier telling. What happened, dearie ? What happened, my queen?"

"She wants him, you see, Wenna. She's doing all she can to get him, and he ..."

"Well, my little queen, there's things I could say about him, but let's admit betwixt ourselves he's like all the men ... perhaps no better ... perhaps no worse."

"And she, Wenna, she's very pretty. She's more than pretty."

"There's the devil in her."

"Let's be fair. I don't think she means ..."

"Not mean! She's been working for it. She looks at any, who'll be duped, with those great big eyes of hers. I never did like green ones. There's something of the devil in green eyes. I never yet knew any green-eyed person that hadn't got wickedness in them ..."

"No, Wenna. That's not true."

"You're too soft, my precious. You're too good and kind. You're like your mother."

"I don't know whether she planned it, but he did ... from the moment he saw that they could get away."

"What did happen? Tell Wenna."

"There was trouble in Liskeard. It was outside Anna Quale's cottage. The mob was there and she took it upon herself to interfere with them."

"She would!"

"They didn't like it, Wenna, she being a foreigner."

"The impudence! I wonder they didn't tear her limb from limb."

"They might have done. But he was watching her and I was watching him. He was off his horse before any of us could do anything ... and he looked as if he would have killed anyone who laid a hand on her. He got her on to her horse and they galloped away. It seemed some time before John and I realized what had happened. It could only have been for a second or two though. Then John said: 'We'd better go... .' And the people just parted and made way for us ... looking ashamed of themselves. It was because they knew who we were, I suppose. In any case, there was never any question of their touching us. We couldn't find those two, Wenna. We didn't know where they'd gone."

"They gave 'ee the slip then. They gave 'ee the slip on purpose."

"That was his intention."

"Hers too. Depend upon it."

"Then we came home and they came home. At least they came home not much more than half an hour after us."

"Half an hour be long enough for mischief, and they wouldn't want to call attention to themselves."

"Oh, Wenna, I'm so unhappy."