He was in much better spirits when he went out. He whistled as he went. The plash of the blue sea all along the shingle seemed to have a sort of laugh in it: he was in love with Penzance and all its beautiful neighborhood. Once again, he was saying to himself, he would spend a quiet and delightful afternoon with Wenna Rosewarne, even if that were to be the last. He would surrender himself to the gentle intoxication of her presence. He would get a glimpse, from time to time, of her dark eyes when she was looking wistfully and absently over the sea. It was no breach of the implied contract with her that he should have seized this occasion. He had been sent for. And if it was necessary that he should abstain from seeing her for any great length of time, why this single afternoon would not make much difference. Afterward he would obey her wishes in any manner she pleased.
He walked into the hotel. There was a gentleman standing in the hall whose acquaintance Master Harry had condescended to make. He was a person of much money, uncertain grammar and oppressive generosity: he wore a frilled shirt and diamond studs, and he had such a vast admiration for this handsome, careless and somewhat rude young man that he would have been very glad had Mr. Trelyon dined with him every evening, and taken the trouble to win any reasonable amount of money of him at billiards afterward. Mr. Trelyon had not as yet graced his table.
"Oh, Grainger," said the young man, "I want to speak to you. Will you dine with me to-night at eight?"
"No, no, no," said Mr. Grainger, shaking his head in humble protest, "that isn't fair. You dine with me. It ain't the first or the second time of asking, either."
"But look here," said Trelyon, "I've got lots more to ask of you. I want you to lend me that little cutter of yours for the afternoon: will you? You send your man on board to see she's all right, and I'll pull out to her in about half an hour's time. You'll do that, won't you, like a good fellow?"
Mr. Grainger was not only willing to lend the yacht, but also his own services to see that she properly received so distinguished a guest; whereupon Trelyon had to explain that he wanted the small craft merely to give a couple of ladies a sail for an hour or so. Then Mr. Grainger would have his man instructed to let the ladies have some tea on board; and he would give Master Harry the key of certain receptacles in which he would find cans of preserved meat, fancy biscuits, jam, and even a few bottles of dry sillery; finally, he would immediately hurry off to see about fishing-rods. Trelyon had to acknowledge to himself that this worthy person deserved the best dinner that the hotel could produce.
In the afternoon he walked along to fetch Mrs. Rosewarne and her daughter, his face bright with expectation. Mrs. Rosewarne was dressed and ready when he went in, but she said, "I am afraid I can't go, Mr. Trelyon. Wenna says she is a little tired, and would rather stay at home."
"Wenna, that isn't fair," he said, obviously hurt. "You ought to make some little effort when you know it will do your mother good. And it will do you good too, if only you make up your mind to go."
She hesitated for a moment: she saw that her mother was disappointed. Then, without a word, she went and put on her hat and shawl.
"Well," he said approvingly, "you are very reasonable and very obedient. But we can't have you go with us with such a face as that. People would say we were going to a funeral."