I was a great favourite both with Katherine and Elizabeth; but I did not stay with them. Stiff and weak as I was I found my way back to my room, where, throwing myself on the bed, I tried to rest.
I knew nothing whatever of the arrangements that had been made about Ruth staying with us, except that Mr. Inch, the old servant, was to remain, that the crew had been sent back to Penwingle, and that the steward was taking care of the Morton estate. I took no interest in the matter, however. From all I could gather her mind had been prejudiced against me, and there was a look of satisfaction on her face when I left her. She was as transparent as the day, so I had no difficulty in seeing that in spite of my having risked my life to save her, she had a bad opinion of me. Well, it did not matter much; in a few years she would be of age and would return then to her old home.
I had banished all unpleasant thoughts from my mind when the door opened and Wilfred entered.
"Well, Roger," he said, "getting better?"
"First rate, Wilfred," I replied.
"Lucky, as usual," he said.
"How?"
"Why, in the first instance, you were privileged to save Ruth Morton's life, and secondly, you are the hero of the neighbourhood for miles around. The talk of the whole countryside is the bravery and daring of Roger Trewinion."
This was said bitterly I thought, but I was not sure. Wilfred had sometimes a way of talking which entirely hid his real feelings and meaning.
"I don't know," he went on, "if the parson isn't going to preach a special sermon next Sunday, when his subject will be 'Roger Trewinion's Bravery and the Mercy of Providence.'"