Adelaide nodded frantically. “Very. I was out riding and lost my way. Then I got off my horse to see a wild pony, and the horse took off. I’ve been wandering paths and found an abandoned mine—”

“Did ee go in?” Emblyn interrupted sharply, her eyes widening.

“No, I turned right back around, stomping like a petulant child.” She smiled sheepishly. “I haven’t stopped walking this particular path since.”

She watched as Emblyn took a deep breath. “That would likely be Wheal Jannus. Ee be fortunate, madam, not to have falled down one of the abandoned shafts. More’n one soul has been lost to them.”

Adelaide sobered at once, her heart lurching to her throat as she considered the danger she had not even been aware of. “I doubt I would feel more lost there than I do now,” she eventually murmured, her voice breaking.

Emblyn’s smile returned, and she came to Adelaide’s side, hefting her basket a little higher. “Then ee best come ‘ome with me. ‘Tis not so far, if ee can walk a bit more. I’ll send word to my brother to fetch ee back.”

“I have lost his horse,” Adelaide said quietly as she began to walk beside the girl. “I cannot imagine where he would go, and I don’t know how I shall face Basset…”

“Harry’ll not favor a horse above ee, madam. Besides, folk ‘round here know each other well. They’ll see the horse returned.” Emblyn blew a few strands of her hair from her face rather like Adelaide had seen children do. “Ee picked a sour day for adventuring, madam. This land be glorious on a fair day, but like this…”

Emblyn continued to speak freely while they walked together, apparently as at ease as she might have been with a friend. She talked about the land, the neighbors, the gossip of the mines, all as though Adelaide would have any idea about any of it. There was no hesitation, no stilted care of words or speech, no hint that Adelaide had ever insulted her at any point in time. No resentment, no sharpness, nothing but warmth and companionship.

Adelaide’s tears threatened to return, this time in shame and gratitude.

“Emblyn,” she managed through a clogged throat, “I owe you a very great apology.”

The girl looked at her in surprise. “I don’t think ee do, madam.”

“Please.” Adelaide shook her head and took Emblyn’s free hand in her own. “Please, call me Adelaide. And I do. I… I have been horrid to you. You have every right to hate me.”

She shook her head. “I’ve no likin’ for hatin’ people, no matter what their cause. ‘Tis a weight on the heart. I know ee’ve no love of me, but that can change, I hope.”