“I will!” exclaimed Tregenna; and, after shaking hands once more, he left the room.
“Thank goodness,” said Mr Penwynn, with a sigh of relief, “that’s over. I should not have cared to make an enemy of Tregenna.”
“Damn him!” cried Tregenna, as soon as he was alone, and he ground his teeth savagely. “Give her up? Yes, some day, perhaps: a proud, cold-blooded jilt. Wait a little, my proud beauty, for if I do not some day have you in the dust at my feet, my name’s not John Tregenna.”
He strode on rapidly by the track on the cliff side, leaving Wheal Carnac and the promontory to the left, and making straight for the unused mine on the path to Gwennas Cove.
He was alone now, as he thought, and, in spite of his self-command, he began gesticulating fiercely and talking to himself, without noticing that there was already some one on the track, who drew aside and walked into the unused engine-house to let him pass, and then stood uneasily watching him as he went towards Prawle’s cottage.
“Forget it, and give her up. Let it all be as a something of the past—eh, Master Penwynn? Yes, when Rhoda has been mine for some months—wife or mistress, we’ll see which. Not till then.”
He went on muttering more and more angrily to himself, and the figure that watched limped out to follow; but on seeing Tregenna encounter the rugged old man, Bessie’s father, and enter into conversation, he calmly limped away along the path.
“The old man will take care of her,” he muttered; “and I don’t believe that Bess would listen to him even if she won’t listen to me. But he’s a bad one—one as wouldn’t stop at any thing to have his will, and I don’t know as I’d feel very comfortable if I was him as stood in his way.”