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The Vicar's People
The Vicar's People
Chapter One
Penwynn, Banker
“H’m! ah! yes! of course! ‘Clever young engineer – thoroughly scientific – may be worth your while.’ Geoffrey Trethick! Cornishman by descent, of course.”
“It sounds like a Cornishman, papa.”
“Yes, my dear, Rundell and Sharp say they have sent me a paragon. Only another adventurer.”
“Poor fellow?” said Rhoda Penwynn, in a low whisper.
“What’s that?” said the first speaker, looking up sharply from his letters to where his daughter sat at the head of his handsomely-furnished breakfast-table.
“I only said, ‘Poor fellow!’ papa,” and the girl flushed slightly as she met the quick, stern look directed at her.
“And why, pray?”
“Because it seems so sad for a young man to come down here from London, full of hopefulness and ambition, eager to succeed, and then to find his hopes wrecked in these wretched mining speculations – just as our unhappy fishing-boats, and the great ships, are dashed to pieces on our rocky shored.”
Mr Lionel Penwynn, banker of Carnac, took the gold-rimmed double eye-glass off the bridge of his handsome aquiline nose, leaned back in his chair, drew himself up, and stared at his daughter.
She was worth it, for it would have been hard to find a brighter or more animated face in West Cornwall. Her father’s handsome features, high forehead, dark eyes, and well-cut mouth and chin were all there, but softened, so that where there was eagerness and vigour in the one, the other was all delicacy and grace, and as Rhoda gazed at the gathering cloud in her father’s face the colour in her cheeks deepened.