How soon might she be up and out on the morrow? Early in the morning, when the young day was rising over the gray sea, and the sea-winds coming freshly in as if they were returning from the cold night? If he could but see her at daybreak, with all the world asleep around them, and with only themselves to watch the growing wonders of the dawn, might not he say something to her then that she would not be vexed to hear, and persuade her that a new sort of life lay before her if she would only enter it along with him? That was the notion that he continually dwelt on for self-justification when he happened to take the trouble to justify himself. The crisis of this girl's life was approaching. Other errors might be retrieved—that one, once committed, never. If he could only see her now, this is what he would say: "We can only live but once, Wenna; and this for us two would be life—our only chance of it. Whatever else may happen, that is no matter: let us make sure of this one chance, and face the future together—you full of sweetness and trust, I having plenty of courage for both. We will treat objectors and objections as they may arise—afterward: perhaps they will be prudent and keep out of our way." And indeed he convinced himself that this, and this only, was Wenna Rosewarne's chance of securing happiness for her life, assuming, in a way, that he had love as well as courage sufficient for both.
He was early up next morning and down on the promenade, but the day was not likely to tempt Wenna to come out just then. A gray fog hung over land and sea, the sea itself being a dull, leaden plain. Trelyon walked about, however, talking to everybody, as was his custom; and everybody said the fog would clear and a fine day follow. This, in fact, happened, and still Wenna did not make her appearance. The fog over the sea seemed to separate itself into clouds: there was a dim, yellow light in the breaks. These breaks widened: there was a glimmer of blue. Then on the leaden plain a glare of white light fell, twinkling in innumerable stars on the water. Everything promised a clear, bright day.
As a last resource he thought he would go and get Juliott Penaluna, and persuade that young lady to come and be introduced to the Rosewarnes. At first Miss Penaluna refused point-blank. She asked him how he could expect her to do such a thing. But then her cousin Harry happened to be civil, and indeed kind, in his manner to her, and when he was in one of those moods there was nothing she could refuse him. She went and got ready with an air of resignation on her comely face.
"Mind, Harry, I am not responsible," she said when she came back. "I am afraid I shall get into awful trouble about it."
"And who will interfere?" said the young man, just as if he were looking about for some one anxious to be thrown from the top of the tower on St. Michael's Mount.
"I shall be accused of conniving with you, you know; and I think I am very good-natured to do so much for you, Harry."
"I think you are, Jue: you are a thoroughly good sort of girl when you like to be—that's a fact. And now you will see whether what I have said about Miss Rosewarne is all gammon or not."
"My poor boy, I wouldn't say a word against her for the world. Do I want my head wrenched off? But if any one says anything to me about what I may do to-day, I shall have to tell the truth; and do you know what that is, Harry? I do really believe you are in love with that girl, past all argument; and there never was one of your family who would listen to reason. I know quite well what you will do. If she cares ever so little for you, you will marry her in spite of everybody, and probably against her own wish: if she doesn't care for you, you will revenge yourself on the happy man of her choice, and probably murder him. Well, it isn't my fault. I know what your mother will say."
"Ah, you don't know, Jue, what my mother thinks of her," he said confidently.
"Oh yes, mothers think very well of a girl until they discover that she is going to marry their son."