And so they went into the large, dimly-lit red chamber where the women were having tea round the blazing fire. The men took various chairs about; the conversation became general; old Lady Weekes feebly endeavored to keep up her eyelids. In about half an hour or so Mrs. Trelyon happened to glance round the room. "Where's Harry?" said she.
No one apparently had noticed that Master Harry had disappeared.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
A DARK CONSPIRACY.
Now, when Harry Trelyon drove up to the Hall after leaving Wenna Rosewarne in the road he could not tell why he was vexed with her. He imagined somehow that she should not have allowed Mr. Roscorla to come home; and to come home just at this moment, when he, Trelyon, had stolen down for a couple of days to have a shy look at the sweet-heart who was so far out of his reach! She ought to have been alone. Then she ought not to have looked so calm and complacent on going away to meet Mr. Roscorla: she ought to have been afraid. She ought to have—In short, everything was wrong, and Wenna was largely to blame.
"Well, grandmother," said he as they drove through the avenue, "don't you expect every minute to flush a covey of parsons?"
He was angry with Wenna, and so he broke out once more in his old vein.
"There are worse men than the parsons, Harry," the old lady said.
"I'll bet you a sovereign there are two on the doorstep."
He would have lost. There was not a clergyman of any sort in or about the house.