"You're a nice, smooth scoundrel," said Geoffrey to himself, as he set
down his glass, "and I have been drinking with you when I ought to have
thrown the wine in your face, and told you that you were a blackguard.--
But we don't do this sort of thing in society. As long as there is a
good thick coat of whitewash over the sepulchre, society does not mind,
but smiles on ladies with no reputation if they are rich, and never
opens its ears to the acts, deeds, and exploits of our nice young men.
I wonder whether mine host knows your character, and what my fair young
hostess feels? Don't seem very sentimental about him, anyhow; and
here's my reverend friend quite cottoning to black whiskers, and
enjoying his small talk. Ah! it's a strange world."
A brisk little conversation was just now going off between Rhoda Penwynn
and the new vicar, Tregenna throwing in a word here and there, Mr
Penwynn smiling approval as he listened, while Geoffrey went on eating
heartily, and following his thought.
"I may be wrong," he went on, "but I feel pretty sure I could say
something that would make you change colour, my smooth, cleanly-shaven
gentleman, and if I did I should make you my enemy for life. Well,
perhaps I could bear that, but I don't want enemies, I want friends. If
I'm right, though, I don't think you ought to win ma'mselle unless you
reform, probationise, and she condones. There, what a string! As the
old women say--'tain't no business of mine."
He glanced across at Tregenna just then, and that gentleman met his eye,
smiled, and the discussion being over, asked him how long he meant to
stay in the west.
"Stay?" said Geoffrey sharply. "Altogether."
Tregenna raised his eyebrows a little, and just then the young vicar, in
reply to a question from Mr Penwynn, began speaking, in slow measured
accents, about the vicarage to be built, and the alterations he meant to
make at the church. A bright colour suffused his smooth pale face, as
he found that Rhoda was listening to him, and that he was now
monopolising the attention of the rest. However, he seemed to master
his nervousness, and spoke out firmly and well to the end.
"You may try," said Mr Penwynn, smiling, "but I am afraid, my dear sir,
that your ideas are as Utopian as those of Mr Trethick there. However,
experience teaches, as the Latin proverb goes; but, as an old
inhabitant, I venture to say that before many weeks are over, both of
you gentlemen will confess that you have undertaken a Herculean task.
Religiously, the people of the lower orders are as wedded to Wesleyanism
as in their mining tactics they are to their old-fashioned ways. Our
rough Cornish folk, gentlemen, are as hard to move as our own granite."
"Perhaps so, papa," said Rhoda; "but we have not had many efforts made
here to move them."
"Thank you, Miss Penwynn," said Geoffrey, flushing, and speaking with
animation. "Those are the first encouraging words I have heard. Your
daughter has touched the very point, Mr Penwynn. I don't want to talk
like an egotist, but, speaking as an engineer, if you will show me one
of your biggest pieces of Cornish granite, I'll find a means of giving
it a start; and I'll be bound to say that if Mr Lee here is as
determined as I, he will find a way of moving the hardest of your
Cornish hearts. Sir, I believe in that little word `Try!'"
The Reverend Edward Lee coloured slightly, and turned his glasses with
more of interest upon the speaker, but he did not interpose.
"I wish you both every success," said Tregenna, smiling first on one and
then on the other, and Mr Penwynn nodded his head, and laughed,
saying,--
"Youth is sanguine, Mr Trethick. _Try_!"
"I will, Mr Penwynn," said Geoffrey, in a voice that, though quiet, was
so full of the spirit expressed by those two determined words that
Tregenna glanced sharply at him, and then at Rhoda, to see what effect
they had had upon her.
She was bending a little forward, her lips parted, and a curious look in
her face, as she gazed in the guest's countenance, till, instinctively
becoming aware that Tregenna's eyes were fixed upon her, she let her own
fall, but only to raise them directly after with a half-offended look of
inquiry, as if asking why she was watched, and soon after she left the
table.
The gentlemen stayed but a short time over their wine, for Tregenna,
after exchanging glances with Mr Penwynn, rose and made for the
drawing-room, while Mr Penwynn suggested a cigar in the garden.
"Yes, I should enjoy a smoke," said Geoffrey, who suspected that this
was a manoeuvre to give Tregenna an opportunity for a _tete-a-tete_, but
the vicar declined.
"I have not smoked now for many years," he said, and he glanced to the
door as if to escape to the drawing-room in Tregenna's wake, but Mr
Penwynn proceeded to endorse Geoffrey's suspicions.
"Then I will not smoke either," he said, passing his arm through that of
his guest. "We'll have a look round at the ferns and flowers till Mr
Trethick has finished his cigar. They'll bring us coffee directly, and
then we will join them in the drawing-room."
There was no escape, so the young clergyman was marched off to inspect
the peculiarities of his host's choice ferns, with the beauties of the
various sub-tropical plants that the banker had collected in his
well-kept, rock-sheltered terrace. These being ended, the various
points of interest in the distance about the bay were pointed put,
evidently to gain time.
Meanwhile Geoffrey, who felt somewhat amused, sat upon a rock, smoked an
excellent cigar, and thought a good deal as he gazed out to sea.
"Parson's bored," he said to himself. "He wants to get off to the
drawing-room, and beam through his glasses on Miss Penwynn, who is
unmistakably being courted by the smooth, dark gentleman. Most likely
he is just now, with papa's consent, popping the question. If she
accepts him I should think it's a pity, for somehow Mr Tregenna is not
my _beau-ideal_ of a gentleman, while she is a bright, clever girl.
However, it is no business of mine."
He paused to knock the very long, carefully-preserved ash off the end of
his cigar, which process seemed to be looked upon as one of very great
importance, the cigar being petted and carefully smoothed down at the
moist end where a little of the leaf was loose, lest this opening should
at all interfere with the drawing; after which he tenderly replaced the
roll of weed in his lips, uttered a sigh of satisfaction, such as might
be given by any young man whose digestion was in perfect order, and
exhaled a soft blue cloud of smoke.
"Curious thing this love," he continued to himself. "Every one seems to
go in for it, to the ruffling of a calm, smooth life, and gets into
trouble. What a blessing it is that I have no inclinations in that
direction! Humph! I wonder what the lady has said? Bah! stuff!
nonsense! what is it to me? I'm not going to set up as head moralist,
and meddle with these affairs. Her father must know best."
He rose, and strolled down to the end of the terrace, to lean over a
rugged mass of granite, and he was still there, enjoying the delicious
calm of the evening, and marvelling at the beauty of the shadowy,
phosphorescent sea, when he heard his host's voice, and throwing aside
the fragment of the cigar whose aroma was beginning to be marred by
touches of burnt moustache, he turned to meet him.
"Tea is ready, Mr Trethick," he said. "Really I ought to apologise for
my neglect."
"Neglect, eh?" said Geoffrey, laughing. "Why, I could bear to be
neglected like this every night. You gave me one of the best cigars I
ever lit, and let me lounge here and smoke it in peace. Don't
apologise, Mr Penwynn; I am quite satisfied."
In spite of his indifference, however, Geoffrey could not refrain from
looking curiously at Rhoda and Tregenna as he entered the drawing-room,
but their unruffled features told no tales.
Rhoda was seated near the window, and Tregenna on the opposite side,
looking more gentlemanly and polished than ever; while Rhoda at once
rose, and began talking to the new vicar, leaving Geoffrey to chat over
the handed-round tea to Tregenna about mines, their few successes, and
their many failures.
"Parson's happy now, I hope," thought Geoffrey, as Mr Penwynn came and
carried off Tregenna, after a word of apology about business; and then,
as they stood talking at the other end of the room, Mr Penwynn's face
was so fully in the light, that Geoffrey could not help noticing that he
changed countenance.
"Master Tregenna's saying something unpleasant about business," thought
Geoffrey. "The glorious uncertainty of the law is, perhaps, having mine
host upon the hip."
"Do you like music, Mr Trethick?" said a voice at his side, and he
found that Rhoda Penwynn had left the vicar and approached unobserved.
"You wicked young puss," he said to himself. "You've come to make a
buffer of me. That's it, is it? Papa is turning angry about you, eh?
and you fear a collision? Well, you shall find me full of spring."
Then, smiling--"Yes, I love music," he said aloud. "I am a worshipper
at a distance--rather a mild one, I should say. You will sing
something, I hope?"
Rhoda crossed readily to the piano, and sang a couple of ballads very
sweetly, her voice being rich and resonant, and then it seemed to
Geoffrey, who was turning over the music for her, that, in spite of a
very brave effort to appear unconcerned, she was growing extremely
nervous, for, instead of leaving the piano, she began to pick up piece
after piece of music, glancing sharply from her father to Tregenna, and
then at the vicar, who was placidly examining an album of scraps.
"I wish you sang, Mr Trethick," she said at last.
"Do you?" he said, looking down at her troubled face.
"Yes. Do you? Will you?"
"Nature has not been very generous to me in the matter of voice. At
least she has given me plenty, but the quality is coarse. I'll try
something though--with you."
"A duet? Oh, yes!" she said eagerly. "What have we? Could you--do you
like Italian?"
"Yes," he said quietly, as he noticed how agitated she was growing, and
how bravely she fought to keep it down, and preserve her composure
towards her father's guests. "Shall we try that _Trovatore_ piece that
you just turned over--_Ai nostri monti_."
"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, and there was a silence in the room as the
rich harmony of the well-blended voices floated out upon the night air.
For, in spite of his modest declaration, Geoffrey Trethick possessed a
full deep voice, and, being a good musician, he thoroughly enjoyed his
task.
"Rather hard on a baritone to set him to sing tenor, Miss Penwynn," he
said, laughing. "But I say, what a delicious voice you have!"
Rhoda glanced at him sharply, but the expression of admiration she could
see was perfectly sincere, and she knew at once that he was not a man
likely to flatter.
That duet gave Rhoda Penwynn time to recover herself, and she was
perfectly calm by the end--a calm she managed to maintain until the
guests were about to depart.
"By the way, Mr Lee," said the banker, "have you obtained apartments?
It is a disgrace to our place that the vicarage is not rebuilt."
"Oh, yes!" said the vicar, mildly, "I have obtained rooms."
"At Mrs Mullion's, I presume?"
"No," said the vicar, turning his glasses for a moment on Geoffrey.
"Mr Trethick has taken those."
"Indeed! Then you are at the hotel?"
"No; I have made arrangements to board with a Miss Pavey, at a very
pleasant cottage--Dinas Vale. Good-night!"
"I'll walk as far as your rooms with you, Mr Trethick," said Tregenna,
as they stepped out into the road. "Have a cigar?"
They lit up, and strolled along the up-and-down ill-paved way, Tregenna
evidently laying himself out to make friends with the new arrival, who
made himself frank and pleasant, but, somehow, not cordial.
"Drop in and have a chat with me, Mr Trethick," said Tregenna, at
parting. "I may be able to further your views. Any one will show you
my place."
"Know it," said Geoffrey. "Saw the brass plate on the gate."
"Yes," laughed Tregenna, "one has to put out a sign. But come and see
me; perhaps I can help you."
"I don't like after-dinner promises," laughed Geoffrey. "They are rash.
I may put you to the test."
"Rash? Oh, no! We are not like that in the west. I shall be only too
glad to help you to the best of my power. Good-night!"
"Good-night!"
Geoffrey remained at the garden gate thinking that his companion had
spoken a great deal more loudly than was necessary. Then, as he had not
finished his cigar, he resolved to smoke it out, and enjoy for a few
minutes the cool night air.
"I don't like to be hasty," he thought, "but I scarcely think that I
shall trust you, Mr Tregenna, beyond the reach of my hand. If I am not
very much mistaken your civility has a meaning, and you are a confounded
scoundrel. If not, I beg your pardon."
"Yes," he said, half aloud, after smoking on for a few minutes and
thinking deeply, "it was your voice that I heard down in that old
building. Now I wonder who was the girl?"
As the thought crossed his mind, the faint sound of a closing casement
smote his ear, when, like a flash, the light came.
"By George! of course," he said. "The other voice was familiar, too.
It was our pretty little maiden here. Hang it all! I've tumbled into
the thick of a mystery, and if I don't take care I shall be in the
middle of the mess."
"Hah?" he exclaimed, as he tapped at the door, "As I said before, it's
no business of mine, and her father knows best; but this love-making is
the greatest nuisance under the sun, or I ought to say the moon."