She shook off the feeling, calling herself weak and childish, and, gathering mental strength with the walk, she at last reached Gwennas Cove.
Old Prawle was busy overhauling a long line, and binding on fresh hooks, a task from which he condescended to raise his eyes, and give the visitor a surly nod as she spoke.
His voice brought out Bess, looking handsomer than ever, Rhoda thought, in her picturesque dress and carelessly-knotted hair.
For a moment the two girls stood gazing in each other’s eyes, and a cold, chilling feeling ran through Rhoda as, in spite of herself, she felt that it would be no wonder if Geoffrey Trethick did love this bold, handsome girl.
The next moment the thought was gone, and Rhoda had held out her hand.
“I hope there is a good stock of sweeties, Bessie,” she said, with a frank smile. “How is Mrs Prawle?”
Bess’s breath came with a catch, as she returned the smile; and, leading the way into the cottage, the pleasant little fiction was gone through, and the invalid made happy in the thought that she had added the profits of a shilling’s-worth of sweets to the general store.
But there was no conversation this time about Geoffrey Trethick, for Bess stayed in the room, and then followed Rhoda out on to the cliff path when she left.
“Why, Bessie,” said the visitor, smiling, “I have hardly seen you since that day when those mad people behaved so ill.”
“I very seldom go into the town now, miss,” said Bess, whose colour came as she recalled the conclusion of that scene.