diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/54239-h.zip | bin | 321693 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/54239-h/54239-h.htm | 14175 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/54239-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 49842 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/54239-h/images/dec.jpg | bin | 9427 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/54239-h/images/titlepage.jpg | bin | 24813 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/54239.txt | 14088 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/54239.zip | bin | 226699 -> 0 bytes |
10 files changed, 17 insertions, 28263 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c307c05 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54239 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54239) diff --git a/old/54239-h.zip b/old/54239-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6747f93..0000000 --- a/old/54239-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/54239-h/54239-h.htm b/old/54239-h/54239-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index fa2c327..0000000 --- a/old/54239-h/54239-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14175 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mistress Nancy Molesworth, by Joseph Hocking. - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - - p { margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - } - - p.bold {text-align: center; font-weight: bold;} - p.bold2 {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; - } - h1 span, h2 span { display: block; text-align: center; } - #id1 { font-size: smaller } - - - hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; - } - - hr.smler { - width: 15%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 42.5%; - margin-right: 42.5%; - clear: both; - } - - body{margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - } - - table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 5px; border-collapse: collapse; border: none; text-align: right;} - - .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - text-indent: 0px; - } /* page numbers */ - - .center {text-align: center;} - .smaller {font-size: smaller;} - .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - .mynote { background-color: #DDE; color: black; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%; } /* colored box for notes at beginning of file */ - .space-above {margin-top: 3em;} - .right {text-align: right;} - .left {text-align: left;} - - .poem {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} - .poem br {display: none;} - .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - .poem div {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem div.i1 {margin-left: 1em;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mistress Nancy Molesworth, by Joseph Hocking - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Mistress Nancy Molesworth - A Tale of Adventure - -Author: Joseph Hocking - -Release Date: February 26, 2017 [EBook #54239] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH *** - - - - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class = "mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> -Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.<br /></p></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="title page" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> - -<h1>MISTRESS NANCY<br />MOLESWORTH</h1> - -<p class="bold">A TALE OF ADVENTURE</p> - -<p class="bold">BY</p> - -<p class="bold2"><span class="smcap">Joseph Hocking</span></p> - -<p class="bold">Author of "The Birthright," etc.</p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="logo" /></div> - -<p class="bold">NEW YORK</p> - -<p class="bold">DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO.</p> - -<p class="bold">1898</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1898, by</span><br /> -DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO.</p> - -<p class="center space-above">Press of J. J. Little & Co.<br /> -Astor Place, New York</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>Contents</h2> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="left"><span class="smaller">CHAPTER</span></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>I.</td> - <td class="left">—Trevanion,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II.</td> - <td class="left">—Peter Trevisa's Offer,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III.</td> - <td class="left">—Crossing the Rubicon,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IV.</td> - <td class="left">—My Journey to Endellion,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>V.</td> - <td class="left">—My First Night at Endellion,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VI.</td> - <td class="left">—The Uses of a Serving-Maid,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VII.</td> - <td class="left">—On the Roof of Endellion Castle,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VIII.</td> - <td class="left">—Otho Discovers My Name,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IX.</td> - <td class="left">—Benet Killigrew as a Wrestler,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>X.</td> - <td class="left">—The Escape from Endellion,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XI.</td> - <td class="left">—My Fight with Benet Killigrew,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XII.</td> - <td class="left">—Roche Rock,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIII.</td> - <td class="left">—The Wisdom of Gossiping with an Innkeeper,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIV.</td> - <td class="left">—The Haunted Chapel of St. Mawgan,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XV.</td> - <td class="left">—The Scene at a Wayside Inn,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVI.</td> - <td class="left">—Why I Took Nancy to Treviscoe,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVII.</td> - <td class="left">—The Charge of Treason,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVIII.</td> - <td class="left">—Otho Killigrew's Victory,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIX.</td> - <td class="left">—Launceston Castle,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XX.</td> - <td class="left">—I Escape from the Witch's Tower,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td style="vertical-align: top">XXI.</td> - <td class="left">—Describes My Journey from Launceston Castle<br /> to a Lonely Mansion Accompanied by Two Women,</td> - <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXII.</td> - <td class="left">—Mistress Nancy Tells Me Many Things,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_301">301</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIII.</td> - <td class="left">—In Which it is Shown that Uncle Anthony Was More than a Droll,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_315">315</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span>XXIV.</td> - <td class="left">—Otho Killigrew Uses an Old Proverb,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_330">330</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXV.</td> - <td class="left">—How January Changed to June,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_344">344</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVI.</td> - <td class="left">—I Fall Into Otho Killigrew's Hands,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_358">358</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVII.</td> - <td class="left">—How Benet Killigrew and I Fought in the Light of the Beacon Fire,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_371">371</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVIII.</td> - <td class="left">—Otho Killigrew's Last Move,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_386">386</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIX.</td> - <td class="left">—The King's Gratitude,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_400">400</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXX.</td> - <td class="left">—In Which Uncle Anthony Plays His Harp,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_414">414</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH</p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER I.</span> <span class="smaller">TREVANION.</span></h2> - -<p>The only part of my history which I regard as worthy of placing on -record is confined to a few months. I was thirty-two years of age at the -time, and had thus entered into the very summer of my life. At that age -a man's position ought to be assured; at any rate his career should be -marked out with tolerable plainness. Such, however, was not my fortune. -Although I bear one of the best known and most honoured names in my -native country, I, Roger Trevanion, was in sore straits at the time of -which I write. And this not altogether because of my own faults. I did -not come into the possession of my heritage until I was thirty, my -father having retained absolute control of his estate until his death. -Up to that time I knew nothing of his money matters. Neither, indeed, -did I care. I had enough for my own use; I possessed good horses and was -able to enjoy what festivities the county provided, to the full. Ever -since my mother's death, which took place when I was fourteen, my father -paid me but little attention. He saw to it that I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> taught to ride, -fence, shoot, with other accomplishments befitting my station, and then -allowed me to follow my own inclinations. As a consequence I became a -gay fellow, being guilty, I am afraid, of most of the misdemeanours -common to young men. I remembered that I was a Trevanion, however, and -while I did not belong to the most important branch of the family, I -held to the code of honour to which for many generations we had been -true.</p> - -<p>I knew that my father gambled freely, and had many relations with people -which were beyond my comprehension. I did not trouble about this, -however. Very few restraints were placed upon me, and I was content.</p> - -<p>When my father died, I discovered that I was a poor man. I had still the -semblance of wealth. I lived in the old house, and was supposed to own -the lands surrounding it. The old servants still called me master, and -the farmers paid their rents to me as they had paid them to my fathers. -In reality, however, everything was mortgaged for nearly all it was -worth. True, the lawyer told me that if I would discharge a number of -superfluous servants, get rid of a number of useless horses, and consent -to the sale of a quantity of timber, I could by practicing the strictest -economy for ten years, place everything on a satisfactory footing.</p> - -<p>"That will mean that I must give up hunting, racing, drinking, betting, -besides closing the house and living like a hermit, I suppose?" I said -to him. "That does not suit me. Is there no other way?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, there is one," he replied.</p> - -<p>"And that?"</p> - -<p>"A suitable marriage."</p> - -<p>I shrugged my shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Women are not in my way, Mr. Hendy," I said. The truth was, I had -fancied myself in love when I was twenty, with the daughter of John -Boscawen, a distant relation of the famous Boscawens. She had led me on -until I was mad about her. I was her slave for several months, and she -treated me as though I were a dog of the fetch-and-carry breed. -Presently a young fellow from a place near Penzance, Prideaux by name, -came to her father's place, and no sooner did he start a-courting her -than she sent me about my business, drove me away in fact, as though I -were a cur. Since that time I had hated women, and I grew angry at the -thought of ever being expected to put confidence in one.</p> - -<p>"The state of your affairs is not generally known," persisted the -lawyer, "and a wife with a handsome dowry would mean getting back the -deeds."</p> - -<p>"No petticoats for me," I replied angrily.</p> - -<p>"But if the petticoats mean comfort and freedom from money cares, would -you not be wise to put aside your prejudice against them?"</p> - -<p>"Anything but that," I cried, remembering Amelia Boscawen.</p> - -<p>"Retrenchment or a wife," persisted the lawyer.</p> - -<p>"Neither," I cried, angry that directly I came into my heritage I should -find myself in such a fix.</p> - -<p>The lawyer sighed.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>"From whom did my father borrow?" I asked presently.</p> - -<p>"Peter Trevisa," he replied.</p> - -<p>I knew the man slightly. A little, shrivelled-up, old creature who had -married late in life, and who had one son whom we called "Young Peter," -because he was so much like his father. Young Peter was not so old as I, -and I had never been friendly with him. In fact I had despised him as a -ferrety kind of fellow, with whom I had nothing in common.</p> - -<p>"He holds you like that," said the lawyer, putting out his hand and -clasping it.</p> - -<p>A great deal more was said, but to no purpose, and I went on as I had -gone before. True, I discharged one or two of the younger servants and -sold a quantity of timber, but I did not retrench as the lawyer advised. -Thus at the end of two years I was, if possible, in a worse position -than when my father died.</p> - -<p>One day—and here my story really begins—I rode off to a fox hunt. I -still held my head high, and rode the best horse in the field. I was -careful, too, to be well dressed, and I prided myself that in spite of -my poverty I was inferior to none. I was young, regarded as handsome, -stood over six feet in my stockings, and was well set up. As usual I -avoided women, although there were many at the meet. Although one of the -heaviest men there, I kept well ahead through the day, and in spite of -the weight of my debts I was in at the death.</p> - -<p>After the hunt I went to Geoffry Luxmore's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> ball, which was a part of -the day's programme, but I did not join the dancers. I wanted to be free -from women, and therefore accepted an invitation to take part in a game -of cards.</p> - -<p>While sitting at dinner I saw old Peter Trevisa. He nodded to me in a -friendly way. Afterward he came to me and caught me by the arm.</p> - -<p>"And how are matters going at Trevanion, eh, lad?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Grandly," I replied gaily, for I was heated with good wine and I felt -no cares.</p> - -<p>"Thou shouldst be in the dancing-room, lad," he said. "There's many a -fine maid there; many with a big dowry. Geoffry Luxmore's daughter -should suit thee well, Roger."</p> - -<p>"No women for me," I cried.</p> - -<p>"No; dost a hate them so?"</p> - -<p>I shrugged my shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Then my Peter'll be getting Trevanion, Roger?" he said with a leer.</p> - -<p>In spite of my excitement I felt uneasy as I looked at his eyes.</p> - -<p>"I've been thinking about calling in my mortgage," he said.</p> - -<p>"Do," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Ah, sits the wind in that quarter, eh? Well, Roger, thou hast always -been a dare-devil fellow. But a landless Trevanion will be a sorry -sight."</p> - -<p>"There never has been one yet."</p> - -<p>"And if thou art the first, 'twill be a sorry business."</p> - -<p>I felt more uncomfortable, so I swallowed a large bumper of wine to keep -my spirits up.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>Presently we sat down to play. I won, I remember, freely at first, and -was in high good humour.</p> - -<p>"Luck seems with thee to-night," said old Peter Trevisa. "After all, it -seems thou'st done well to come here rather than go a-dancing with the -maidens yonder."</p> - -<p>As he spoke the music ceased, and on looking up I saw Ned Prideaux, the -fellow who had stolen Amelia Boscawen from me, come into the room.</p> - -<p>I don't know that I felt any enmity toward him; the only wrong feeling I -had for him was on account of my pride. That he should have been -preferred before me wounded my vanity.</p> - -<p>Old Peter Trevisa knew of the business, and laughed as he came up.</p> - -<p>"Thou didst beat him in courting, lad," he said to Prideaux, "let's see -if thou canst beat him at playing."</p> - -<p>This he said like one who had been drinking a good deal. And although I -had not seen him making free with wine, I fancied he must be fairly -drunk; consequently I did not resent his words. Besides, I was in high -good humour because of my winnings.</p> - -<p>"I'll take a hand with pleasure," answered Prideaux. He wiped his brow, -for he had been dancing, and sat down opposite me.</p> - -<p>I broke a fresh bottle of wine, and we commenced playing. Fool that I -was, I drank freely throughout the evening, and presently I became so -excited that I hardly knew what I was doing. Several fellows gathered -around to watch us, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> the stakes were high. I had not been playing -with Prideaux long before my luck turned. I began to lose all I had -gained. Old Peter Trevisa chuckled as he saw that the cards were against -me.</p> - -<p>"Give it up, Roger," he said in a sneering kind of way; "Trevanion can't -stand bad luck, lad."</p> - -<p>This wounded my pride. "Trevanion can stand as much as I care to let it -stand," I replied, and I laid my last guinea on the table.</p> - -<p>Presently Mr. Hendy, the old family lawyer, came to my side.</p> - -<p>"Be careful, Mr. Trevanion," he whispered, "this is no time for ducks -and drakes."</p> - -<p>But I answered him with an oath, for I was in no humour to be corrected. -Besides, wild and lawless as I had been for several years, I remembered -that I was a Trevanion, and resented the family attorney daring to try -to check me in public.</p> - -<p>"He won't listen to reason, Hendy," sneered old Peter Trevisa. "Ah, -these young men! Hot blood, Hendy, hot blood; we can't stop a -Trevanion."</p> - -<p>I had now lost all my money, but I would not stop. Old Trevisa standing -at my elbow offering sage advice maddened me. I blurted out what at -another time I would not have had mentioned on any consideration.</p> - -<p>"You have a stake in Trevanion, Trevisa," I cried angrily.</p> - -<p>"Nonsense, nonsense, Roger," whispered the old man, yet so loudly that -all could hear.</p> - -<p>"You have," I cried, "you know you have. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> I paid you all you lent my -father, there would be little left. How much would the remnant be?"</p> - -<p>"We'll not speak of that," laughed the old man.</p> - -<p>"But we will," I said defiantly, for what with wine, and bad luck, and -the irritation of the old man's presence I was beside myself. "What more -would you lend on the estate?"</p> - -<p>He named a sum.</p> - -<p>"I'll play you for that sum, Prideaux," I cried.</p> - -<p>"No," replied Prideaux; "no, Trevanion, you've lost enough."</p> - -<p>"But I will!" I replied angrily.</p> - -<p>"No," said Prideaux, "I'm not a gamester of that order. I only play for -such sums as have been laid on the table."</p> - -<p>"But you shall!" I cried with an oath; "you dare not as a gentleman -refuse me. You've won five hundred guineas from me this very night. You -must give me a chance of winning it back."</p> - -<p>"Luck is against you, Trevanion," replied Prideaux. "It shall never be -said of me that I won a man's homestead from him. I refuse to play."</p> - -<p>"Prideaux has won a maid from you!" laughed old Trevisa with a drunken -hiccup. "Be careful or he'll take Trevanion, too."</p> - -<p>"I'll never play for the land," cried Prideaux again.</p> - -<p>"But you shall," I protested. "If you refuse you are no gentleman, and -you will act like a coward to boot."</p> - -<p>"Very well," replied Prideaux coolly, "it shall be as you say."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>We arranged our terms and commenced playing again.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later I had lost the sum which old Peter Trevisa said he -could further advance on Trevanion. I do not think I revealed my -sensations when I realized that I had lost my all, but a cold feeling -came into my heart nevertheless.</p> - -<p>"Trevanion," said Prideaux, "we'll not regard the last half-hour's play -as anything. It was only fun."</p> - -<p>"That will not do," I replied. "We have played, and I have lost; that is -all."</p> - -<p>"But I shall not take——"</p> - -<p>"You will," I cried. "You have played fairly, and it is yours. I will -see to it at once that the amount shall be handed to you."</p> - -<p>"I will not take it," cried Prideaux. "I absolutely refuse."</p> - -<p>I know I was mad; my blood felt like streams of molten fire in my veins, -but I was outwardly cool. The excitement I had previously shown was -gone. Perhaps despair helped me to appear calm.</p> - -<p>"Look you, Peter Trevisa," I said; "you give Prideaux a draft for that -money."</p> - -<p>"Roger, Roger," said the old man coaxingly, "take Prideaux's offer. He -won your maid; don't let him win Trevanion too. You'll cut a sorry -figure as a landless Trevanion."</p> - -<p>I seized a pen which lay near, and wrote some words on a piece of paper.</p> - -<p>"There," I said to Prideaux as I threw it to him, "it shall not be said -that a Trevanion ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> owed a Prideaux anything, not even a gaming debt. -Gentlemen, I wish you good-night."</p> - -<p>I left the room as I spoke and ordered my horse. I was able to walk -straight, although I felt slightly giddy. I scarcely realized what I had -done, although I had a vague impression that I was now homeless and -friendless. A ten-mile journey lay before me, but I thought nothing of -it. What time I arrived at Trevanion I know not. My horse was taken from -me by an old servant, and without speaking a word to any one I went -straight to bed.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER II.</span> <span class="smaller">PETER TREVISA'S OFFER.</span></h2> - -<p>The next morning I awoke with terrible pains in my head, while my heart -lay like lead within me. For some time I could not realize what had -happened; indeed, I hardly knew where I was. It was broad daylight, but -I could not tell what the hour was. Presently a clock began to strike, -and then I realized that I lay in my own bed at Trevanion and that the -clock stood in the turret of my own stables. I counted the strokes. It -stopped at eleven. No sooner had it ceased than all that had happened -the previous night flashed through my mind. I jumped out of bed and -looked out of the window. Never had the place seemed so fair to look -upon, never had the trees looked so large and stately. And I was -burdened with the dread remembrance that it was no longer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> mine. When I -had dressed I tried to face the matter fairly. I tried to understand -what I had done. The more I thought about it the more I cursed myself -for being a fool. For I felt how insane I had been. I had drunk too much -wine, I had allowed myself to become angry at old Peter Trevisa's words. -I had blurted out truths which under other circumstances I would rather -have bitten my tongue in two than have told. I had acted like a madman. -Wild, foolish as I had been in the past, that night was the climax of my -folly. Why had old Peter Trevisa's presence and words aroused me so?</p> - -<p>The more I thought the sadder I became, the darker did my prospects -appear. I had given Prideaux a written guarantee for the money I had -been unable to pay. That piece of paper meant my ruin, if he took -advantage of it. Would he do this? Yes, I would see that he did. In -extremities as I was, I would rather sacrifice the land than violate our -old code of honour.</p> - -<p>I heard a knock at the door, and a servant entered.</p> - -<p>"From Mr. Trevisa of Treviscoe, sir," he said.</p> - -<p>I am afraid my hand trembled slightly as I took the letter.</p> - -<p>"Who brought it, Daniel?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"A servant, sir."</p> - -<p>"Let breakfast be ready in ten minutes, Daniel; I'll be down by that -time."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>I broke the seal of the letter and read it. I soon discovered that it -was written by young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> Peter Trevisa. For, first of all, it was written -in a clear hand and correctly spelt, and I knew that old Peter's writing -was crabbed and ill-shapen; besides which, the old man had not learnt -the secret of stringing words together with anything like ease. The -contents of the epistle, too, revealed the fact that the son, and not -the father, acted as scribe. The following is an exact transcript -thereof:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Treviscoe</span> the 25th day of March in the year 1745.</p> - -<p>"<i>To Roger Trevanion, Esq., of Trevanion.</i></p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:—The events of last night having altered their -complexion somewhat after you left the house of Geoffry Luxmore, -Esq., and the writing which you gave to Mr. Edward Prideaux having -changed hands, with that gentleman's consent, it has become -necessary for you to visit Treviscoe without delay. My father has -therefore instructed me to write (instead of employing our -attorney, who has up to the present conducted all correspondence -relating to my father's connections with Trevanion) urging your -presence here. I am also asked to impress upon you the fact that it -will be greatly to your advantage to journey here immediately, -while your delay will be perilous to yourself. We shall therefore -expect you here within two hours from the delivery of this letter.</p> - -<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Peter Trevisa.</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This communication certainly looked ominous, and I felt in no very -pleasant frame of mind as I entered the room beneath, where my breakfast -had been placed for me.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p><p>"Where is the fellow who brought this, Daniel?" I asked of my old -serving-man.</p> - -<p>"He is standin' outside, sur. He wudden cum in. He seemed in a terble -'urry."</p> - -<p>I went to the door and saw a horse which had evidently been hard ridden. -It was covered with mud and sweat. The man who stood by the animal's -side touched his hat when he saw me.</p> - -<p>"Go into the kitchen, my man, and get something to eat and drink," I -said.</p> - -<p>"I must not, sur," was the reply. "My master told me to ride hard, and -to return immediately I got your answer."</p> - -<p>"Anything wrong at Treviscoe?"</p> - -<p>"Not as I know ov, sur."</p> - -<p>I had no hope of anything good from old Peter, and I felt like defying -him. My two years' possession of Trevanion had brought but little joy. -Every day I was pinched for money, and to have an old house to maintain -without a sufficient income galled me. The man who is poor and proud is -in no enviable position. Added to this, the desire to hide my poverty -had made me reckless, extravagant, dissolute. Sometimes I had been -driven to desperation, and, while I had never forgotten the Trevanion's -code of honour, I had become feared and disliked by many people. Let me -here say that the Trevanion code of honour might be summed up in the -following way: "Never betray a woman. Never break a promise. Never leave -an insult unavenged. Suffer any privation rather than owe money to any -man. Support the church, and honour the king."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p><p>Having obeyed these dictates, a Trevanion might feel himself free to do -what else he liked. He could be a drunkard, a gamester, a swashbuckler, -and many other things little to be desired. I speak now for my own -branch of the family, for I had but little to do with others of my name. -In the course of years the estates had been much divided, and my -father's patrimony was never great. True, there were many hundreds of -acres of land, but, even although all of it were free from -embarrassment, it was not enough to make its owner wealthy. My father -had also quarrelled with those who bore our name, partly, I expect, -because they treated him with but little courtesy. Perhaps this was one -reason why he had been recklessly extravagant, and why he had taken no -pains to make me careful. Anyhow I am afraid that while I was feared by -many I was beloved by few. I had had many quarrels, and the law of my -county being something lax, I had done deeds which had by no means -endeared me to my neighbours.</p> - -<p>My pride was great, my temper was of the shortest, my tastes and habits -were expensive, and my income being small, I was weary of keeping up a -position for which I had not the means.</p> - -<p>Consequently, as I read young Peter Trevisa's letter, I felt like -refusing to obey his bidding. I had been true to the Trevanion code of -honour. I had given Prideaux a written promise that the gaming debt -should be paid. Let them do their worst. I was young, as strong as a -horse, scarcely knew the meaning of fatigue, and I loved <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>adventure. I -was the last of my branch of the family, so there was no one that I -feared grieving. Very well, then, I would seek my fortune elsewhere. -There were treasures in India, there were quarrels nearer home, and -strong men were needed. There were many careers open to me; I would -leave Trevanion and go to lands beyond the seas.</p> - -<p>I was about to tell the man to inform his master that I refused to go to -Treviscoe, when I was influenced to change my mind. I was curious to -know what old Peter had to say. I was careless as to what he intended -doing in relation to the moneys I owed him, but I wondered what schemes -the old man had in his mind. Why did he want to see me? It would do no -harm to ride to his house. I wanted occupation, excitement, and the ride -would be enjoyable.</p> - -<p>"Very well," I said, "if I do not see your master before you do, tell -him I will follow you directly."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sur," and without another word the man mounted the horse and rode -away.</p> - -<p>I ate a hearty breakfast, and before long felt in a gay mood. True the -old home was dear to me, but the thought of being free from anxious care -as to how I might meet my creditors was pleasant. I made plans as to -where I should go, and what steps I should first take in winning a -fortune. The spirit of adventure was upon me, and I laughed aloud. In a -few days Cornwall should know me no more. I would go to London; when -there nothing should be impossible to a man of thirty-two.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>I spoke pleasantly to Daniel, the old serving-man, and my laughter -became infectious. A few seconds later the kitchen maids had caught my -humour. Then my mood changed, for I felt a twinge of pain at telling -them they must leave the old place. Some of them had lived there long -years, and they would ill-brook the thought of seeking new service. They -had served the family faithfully too, and ought to be pensioned -liberally instead of being sent penniless into the world.</p> - -<p>A little later I was riding furiously toward Treviscoe. The place was a -good many miles from Trevanion, but I reached it in a little more than -an hour. I found old Peter and his son eagerly awaiting me.</p> - -<p>"Glad to see you, Roger, glad to see you," said the old man.</p> - -<p>"Why did you send for me?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you directly. John, take some wine in the library."</p> - -<p>The servant departed to do his bidding, and I followed the two Trevisas -into the library.</p> - -<p>"Sit down by the fire, Roger, lad; that's it. First of all we'll drink -each other's health in the best wine I have in my cellar. This is a -special occasion, Roger."</p> - -<p>"Doubtless, a special occasion," I replied; "but no wine for me at -present. I want to keep my head cool in talking with such as you. What -do you want of me?"</p> - -<p>"Let's not be hasty, Roger," said old Peter, eyeing me keenly, while -young Peter drew his chair to a spot where his face was shaded, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> -from which he could see me plainly. "Let's be friendly."</p> - -<p>"I'm in no humour to be friendly," was my rejoinder. "Tell me why you -have wished me to come to you?"</p> - -<p>"I would have come to you, but I had a twinge of gout this morning, and -was not able to travel. I wanted to see you on an important matter, my -dear lad."</p> - -<p>"Will you drop all such honeyed phrases, Peter Trevisa," I said angrily. -"I know you lent money to my father on Trevanion. I know I have been a -fool since I came into possession. Last night I lost my head. Well, -Prideaux shall be paid, and you will take the rest. I quite expect this, -and am prepared for it."</p> - -<p>"Prideaux has been paid," laughed the old man.</p> - -<p>"In cash?"</p> - -<p>"Aye, that he has."</p> - -<p>"Who paid him?"</p> - -<p>"I did."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I see. You wanted the bone all to yourself, did you," I cried -angrily. "Well, some dogs are like that. But it makes no difference to -me. Do your worst."</p> - -<p>"You remember this," he said, holding up the piece of paper I had given -to Prideaux the night before.</p> - -<p>"I was mad when I wrote it," I replied, "but I remember it well. How did -it come into your hands?"</p> - -<p>"Prideaux has very fine notions about honour," remarked old Peter. "He -did not like taking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>advantage of it, and yet he knew that you as a -Trevanion would insist on his doing so."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Well, Roger lad, seeing I have the Trevanion deeds, I thought I might -as well have this too. So I offered him money down, and he was pleased -to arrange the matter that way. He has made the thing over to me."</p> - -<p>"Let's see it—his writing ought to be on it to that effect."</p> - -<p>"It is; aye, it is."</p> - -<p>"Then let me look at it."</p> - -<p>"No, Roger. This paper is very precious to me. I dare not let you have -it. You might destroy it then."</p> - -<p>"Peter Trevisa," I cried, "did ever a Trevanion do a trick like that?"</p> - -<p>"No, but you are in a tight corner, and——"</p> - -<p>"Listen, you chattering old fool," I cried angrily. "If I wished, I -could squeeze the life out of the bodies of both of you and take the -paper from you before any one could come to your aid. But that's not my -way; give it me."</p> - -<p>"I'll trust you, Roger; here it is."</p> - -<p>I looked at the paper. I saw my own promise and signature; underneath it -was stated that the money had been paid by Peter Trevisa, and signed -"Edward Prideaux."</p> - -<p>I flung it at him. "There," I said, "you've forged the last link in your -chain now. I am quite prepared for what I have no doubt you will do. -Trevanion is yours. Well, have it; may it bring you as much joy as it -has brought me."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p><p>"You misjudge me," cried old Peter. "You misjudge both me and my son. -True, Trevanion would be a fine place for my lad, but then I should not -like to drive you away from your old home. All the Trevanions would turn -in their graves if any one else lived there. I want to be your friend. I -desire to help you on to your feet again."</p> - -<p>"Wind!" I cried. "Trust you to help any man!"</p> - -<p>"Listen to what my father has to say," cried young Peter. "You will see -that we both wish to be friendly."</p> - -<p>His face was partly hidden; nevertheless I saw the curious light shining -from his eyes. He was undersized, this young Peter, just as his father -was. A foxy expression was on his face, and his mouth betrayed his -nature. He was cunning and sensual. His was not unlike a monkey's face. -His forehead receded, his lips were thick, his ears large.</p> - -<p>"Roger Trevanion, my lad, there is no reason why you should have to -leave your old home. Nay, there is no reason why you should not be -better off than you have been. That is why I got this paper from Edward -Prideaux."</p> - -<p>Old Peter spoke slowly, looking at me from the corner of his eyes.</p> - -<p>"You want me to do something," I said after a minute's silence.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Roger," laughed the old man, "how quickly you jump at conclusions."</p> - -<p>"It will not do, Peter Trevisa," I cried. "You have Trevanion. Well, -make the most of it. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> shall not be sorry to be away from the county. -The thought that everything has really belonged to you has hung like a -millstone around my neck. I am not going to fetch and carry for you."</p> - -<p>"But if you had the deeds back. If I burnt this paper. If the estate -were unencumbered. What then?"</p> - -<p>"You know it will not be. Trust you to give up your pound of flesh."</p> - -<p>"You do me an injustice," replied old Peter, with a semblance of -righteous indignation. "What right have you to say this? Have I been -hard on you. Have I dunned you for your money."</p> - -<p>"No; but you have lost no opportunity of letting me know that the place -belongs to you."</p> - -<p>"That was natural, very natural. I wanted to put a check on your -extravagance."</p> - -<p>I laughed in his face, for I knew this to be a lie.</p> - -<p>"Roger Trevanion," cried young Peter, "my father is a merciful man. He -has your welfare at heart. He is old too. Is it manly to mock old age."</p> - -<p>"Let there be an end of this," I cried. "I begin to see why you have -brought me here. I knew you had some deep-laid plans or I would not have -come. It is always interesting to know what such as you think. Well, -let's know what it is."</p> - -<p>For the moment I seemed master of the situation. An outsider would have -imagined them in my power instead of I being in theirs. Especially did -young Peter look anxious.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><p>"I am sure we can trust Roger," said the old man. "When a Trevanion -gives his word he has never been known to break it."</p> - -<p>"But they are learning to be careful how to give their word," I -retorted.</p> - -<p>Peter looked uneasy. "But if I ask you to keep what I tell you a secret, -you will promise, Roger?"</p> - -<p>"I ask for no confidences," I replied.</p> - -<p>"You said just now that we wanted you to do something," said young -Peter. "You guessed rightly. If you do not feel inclined to do what we -ask you, you will of course respect anything we may tell you?"</p> - -<p>"That is but fair," was my answer.</p> - -<p>"You promise, then?" cried old Peter.</p> - -<p>"If I honourably can," I replied.</p> - -<p>For a few seconds both men were silent; then old Peter began to speak -again.</p> - -<p>"Roger Trevanion," he said, "you know that I hold the deeds of -Trevanion; you know that you are entirely at my mercy."</p> - -<p>"Well enough."</p> - -<p>"You would like to remain at Trevanion? You, a Trevanion, would not like -to be an outcast, a mere vagrant, a landless gipsy."</p> - -<p>"I don't care much," I replied. "I should be free; and I would rather be -landless than be supposed to own the land, while everything practically -belonged to you. I've told you this before. Why make me say it again?"</p> - -<p>"But you would like the deeds back. You would like to live at the old -home with plenty of money?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p><p>"You know I would. Why mock me?"</p> - -<p>"You would do a great deal in order that this might come to pass."</p> - -<p>"What do you want?"</p> - -<p>We had come back to the same point again, and again old Peter hesitated.</p> - -<p>"You know Restormel?" he said at length.</p> - -<p>"Restormel Castle, up by Lostwithiel?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"No; Restormel in the parish of St. Miriam, a few miles north from -here?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, I know."</p> - -<p>"What do you know?"</p> - -<p>Both old Peter and young Peter spoke in the same breath; both spoke -eagerly, too—anxiously in fact.</p> - -<p>"What is rumoured by certain gossips," I replied. "I expect there is no -truth in it."</p> - -<p>"But what have you heard?"</p> - -<p>"It is said that the estate belongs to a chit of a maid," I replied; -"that the maid's mother died at her birth, and that her father, Godfrey -Molesworth, did not long survive her. That he was broken-hearted. That -everything was left to a mere baby."</p> - -<p>"But what became of the baby?"</p> - -<p>"I know not. I have heard that she has never been seen on the place, -although her father has been dead wellnigh twenty years. That the rents -are paid to Colman Killigrew who lives at Endellion Castle, and who is a -godless old savage. Rumour says that he claims to be the maid's -guardian. But of this I am ignorant. He lives full fifty miles from -here, and I know nothing of him."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>"That is all you have heard?"</p> - -<p>"That is all I can remember at present."</p> - -<p>"You have never seen the maid?"</p> - -<p>"No. Who has? Stay; I have heard she was placed in a convent school. Old -Killigrew is a Catholic, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you more, Roger Trevanion. Colman Killigrew has been -fattening on the Restormel lands for wellnigh twenty years. He hath kept -the maid, Nancy Molesworth, a prisoner. In a few months she will be -twenty-one. He intends marrying her to one of his sons. She hates the -whole tribe of Killigrews, but he cares nothing for that. He is -determined; you can guess why."</p> - -<p>"Yes, such things are common. But what is that to me? I know nothing of -the maid, Nancy Molesworth; I do not care. Let the Killigrews marry her; -let them possess Restormel."</p> - -<p>"My son Peter hath seen the maid, Roger."</p> - -<p>"Ah! How?"</p> - -<p>"He had to pay a visit in the neighbourhood of Endellion Castle, and he -saw her by chance."</p> - -<p>"Spoke he to her?"</p> - -<p>"No, he did not; she did not see him. She is kept a close prisoner, but -my Peter hath lost his heart."</p> - -<p>I turned and looked at young Peter, and his face looked more monkeyish -than ever. A simpering smile played around his protruding mouth. His -eyes shone like those of a weazel.</p> - -<p>"Well," I said, "what is this to me?"</p> - -<p>"This, Roger Trevanion. I want that maid, Nancy Molesworth, brought here -to Treviscoe. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> want to save her from those Papist savages who would -bring ruin upon the maid and upon the country."</p> - -<p>"That's nothing to me," I replied; "I avoid women. They are all -alike—all cruel, all selfish, all false as hell. Why tell your plans to -me?"</p> - -<p>"Because," cried young Peter, "if you will bring the sweet maid, Nancy -Molesworth, to Treviscoe, you shall have the Trevanion deeds back. I -will destroy this paper you gave to Prideaux, and we will forgive a -large part of the money you have had from us." And he named a fairly -liberal sum.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER III.</span> <span class="smaller">CROSSING THE RUBICON.</span></h2> - -<p>I must confess to being startled by this proposal. I had not foreseen -it. That I should have to do with any woman formed no part of my plans. -As I have said, I hated women; I had not forgotten the lesson I had -learnt as a lad. Hence the suddenness of his proposal took me somewhat -aback.</p> - -<p>But I did not betray my feelings. Instead I walked quietly around the -room, occasionally glancing at the two men who watched me closely.</p> - -<p>"If I refuse to do this," I said presently, "you will of course make -good your claims on Trevanion?"</p> - -<p>Both nodded.</p> - -<p>"And if I consent, you will in payment for my services destroy the paper -I gave to Prideaux,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> give me back the deeds, and forgive the amount you -mentioned?"</p> - -<p>"I will have papers drawn up to that effect," replied old Peter in -honeyed tones. "I will always be a friend to you, and render you any -little services in my power. You are but thirty-two. Think what a gay -life you could live!"</p> - -<p>I saw what was in his mind. He thought I should continue my spendthrift -habits, and that as a natural consequence he would soon possess the -deeds again. But I said nothing. There was no need that I should. -Besides at that moment I felt a great desire to stay at Trevanion, and I -formed a resolution that if ever I got the deeds, I would never let them -go out of my possession again.</p> - -<p>The matter required thinking about; and heedless of the inquiries I -still paced Treviscoe library, trying the while to read the two -Trevisas' motives, and understand the whole bearings of the case. I was -not long in forming conclusions.</p> - -<p>"The Restormel estates are valuable, I suppose?" I said at length.</p> - -<p>"There is some very good land on it," replied old Peter. "Molesworth -harbour is in it."</p> - -<p>"Just so; and you mean that young Peter should marry this maid?" I -continued.</p> - -<p>"And what then?" cried old Peter. "That's naught to you. You hate all -women, you say. You care not what may become of her if you have your -deeds back, and become a prosperous man?"</p> - -<p>"No!" I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> care not"; and yet I felt -uneasy, I knew not why.</p> - -<p>"Besides the maid hates the Killigrews, hates 'em!"</p> - -<p>"How do you know?"</p> - -<p>"I've found out."</p> - -<p>I must confess I did not like the work. The idea that I should take a -maid barely twenty-one from the man claiming to be her guardian, and -bring her to Treviscoe, the home of these two Trevisas, was repellent to -me. I was not over-particular what I did as a rule, but this caused a -nasty taste in my mouth. This Nancy Molesworth might marry young Peter, -crawling ugly worm as he was, that was nothing to me; what matter it who -women married? He might have the Restormel lands too, if he could get -them. Still, although I had given myself pretty much over to the devil -during the last few years, I did not like the thought that a Trevanion -should do the dirty work of a Trevisa.</p> - -<p>Had they told me all? Why should they select me for this mission? And -why should they be willing to pay such a big price? There were plenty of -gangs of cut-throats in Cornwall who would do their bidding for a less -sum.</p> - -<p>"You had better place this affair in other hands," I said at length.</p> - -<p>"Haven't we offered enough?" cried young Peter.</p> - -<p>"It's too dear at any price, I am afraid," I replied, and yet my heart -went out toward Trevanion as I spoke.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p><p>"You are prepared to give up your old home, discharge your old -servants, and become nameless then?" old Peter said, his ferrety eyes -fastened on me all the while.</p> - -<p>"Others would do it cheaper," I replied; "far cheaper. Tom Belowda's -gang would attempt the work for a hundred guineas."</p> - -<p>Young Peter lost his head as I spoke. "Could I trust the sweet maid with -a gang of roughs?" he cried; "besides, we should place ourselves in -their power, they would know our secrets."</p> - -<p>"It would pay them not to tell."</p> - -<p>"Aye, but a secret held by such ceases to be a secret."</p> - -<p>I saw that my game was to hold back, and I continued to do so. The -thought of retaining Trevanion grew dearer each minute, but I did not -let them know.</p> - -<p>"It's a difficult task," I suggested, still continuing to pace the room.</p> - -<p>"Not so difficult for such as you," said old Peter coaxingly. "When you -Trevanions make up your mind to do a thing you do it, although the -furies stand in your way. You are as strong as a horse and if need be -could fight like a fiend from the bottomless pit. Not that there would -be any need," he added quickly.</p> - -<p>"If it is so easy," I retorted, "let young Peter do this himself. He -says he loves this maid, and love," I laughed sneeringly, "overcomes all -difficulties. This is just the work for a lover. It smacks of far-off -days. Let Peter attack the castle like the knights of past ages, and -bear off his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> bride in triumph. He would make a fine sight carrying a -maid on his crupper."</p> - -<p>I saw a look of vindictive hatred shine from young Peter's eyes, but he -said nothing.</p> - -<p>"Peter is not fit for such work," was the old man's reply. "He was -delicate from a child. Riding wearies him, he has neither the strength -nor the daring necessary."</p> - -<p>"You say that Killigrew has sons?" I said at length, a new thought -flashing into my mind.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Many?"</p> - -<p>"Five."</p> - -<p>"Be they weaklings like you, or strong fighting men?" I said, turning to -young Peter.</p> - -<p>"Strong men, giants," he said quickly, and then he tried to qualify his -words as though he were afraid that difficulties would hinder me.</p> - -<p>For the first time I found pleasure in the thought of accepting the -mission. It fired my blood to think of doing battle with these sturdy -Killigrews. They were Papists too, and I had been taught to hate them -from my childhood. I longed for some reckless work to do. At first it -had seemed tame and mean to carry away a chit of a maid from Endellion -Castle, and take her to Treviscoe, that she might become the wife of -Peter Trevisa. I surmised, too, that young Peter thought quite as much -of Restormel as he did of the maid. But to go into a house where there -were five young fellows who were giants, and take away a maid who was -closely guarded, aroused all my love for adventure.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p><p>"What is this Endellion Castle?" I asked. "Is it one of the old Cornish -fortresses?"</p> - -<p>"Part of the castle still stands," replied young Peter. "The grandfather -of the present Colman Killigrew built the present house adjoining it."</p> - -<p>"It is well guarded, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," replied young Peter reluctantly. "Colman Killigrew and all his -sons are rebels at heart. In his father's days he and his family -supported King James; they long for a Catholic to be on the throne, and -there is a rumour that they are planning against our good King George."</p> - -<p>"Hath anything been proved against them?"</p> - -<p>"No, not proved, but matters look suspicious. Rumour saith, that should -there be a rebellion he could command five hundred swords. There is a -strong Papist feeling in the neighbourhood of Endellion."</p> - -<p>"And the maid, is she a Papist?"</p> - -<p>"Her father, Godfrey Molesworth, was a strong Protestant, but Heaven -only knows what they have persuaded her to be."</p> - -<p>This information caused new thoughts to come into my mind, and I -determined to remember what he had told me.</p> - -<p>"Are Colman Killigrew and his sons beloved by the neighbouring -families?" I asked presently.</p> - -<p>"He is both beloved and hated. Some of the Catholics are his friends, -but others mistrust him sorely."</p> - -<p>These matters came out slowly. Evidently young Peter did not care about -discussing them. Perchance he was afraid lest I should shrink<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> from -trying to carry out his plans when I knew them.</p> - -<p>I was silent for some time. I pondered much over what I had heard.</p> - -<p>"All this should be nothing to thee, Roger, lad," said old Peter, -becoming more and more familiar in his tones. "All the Trevanions for -many generations have sought to help the oppressed. Thou hast the blood -of thy fathers within thee. This is work worthy of the best. Besides, if -thou wilt do this, both Peter and myself will befriend thee always. -Peter's heart went out after the maid, and he longed to set her free. -She is suffering, Roger, suffering greatly. Killigrew will rob her, and -sell her to one of his brutal sons. Such a work as we asked will win the -blessing of Heaven."</p> - -<p>"Have done with this Quaker talk!" I cried. "I care nothing about such -things. Perchance the maid will be better off where she is than with -you; perchance, too, one of these Killigrews will make a better husband -for her than your puling lad."</p> - -<p>"Nay, think not so," cried the old man; "Peter is a good lad, weak in -body, but quick in thinking, and hath a kind heart."</p> - -<p>"I like a fight," I blurted out; "I do not object to a rough bit of -work, but——" I mused.</p> - -<p>"But what, Roger, lad?"</p> - -<p>"I hate aught that hath to do with women. This matter presents many -difficulties. I must get to speak with the maid, if she be as you say. -If not, I must carry her off by force. Anyway I shall have a wench on my -hand for days. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>dislike this. I am no woman's man, and I should repel -her by my roughness."</p> - -<p>Peter's eyes glistened. "But you would be kind to her?" he asked -eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Kind!" I replied. "I would always treat a helpless maid with respect. -No man who is a man could be cruel to these poor things, who cannot -fight for themselves. Still one cannot trust women. Mostly they would -betray a man at a pinch even though he were fighting for their welfare."</p> - -<p>"That is why we are anxious to have such a man as you to help us," cried -old Peter. "If we gave this to some, my lad would be eating his heart -away with jealousy. He would think they would be plotting to take her -away from him. But you, Roger, you have been badly treated by women, -therefore——"</p> - -<p>"I should pay them scant courtesy," I interrupted.</p> - -<p>"I know a Trevanion would always treat a well-born maid as she should be -treated. Besides——"</p> - -<p>"Besides what?"</p> - -<p>"If you promise to bring the maid here, you will bring her."</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied grimly, "if I promise."</p> - -<p>"You are as clever as a lawyer, and strong as a horse," wheedled old -Peter, "and a Trevanion always keeps his promise."</p> - -<p>To this I vouchsafed no reply, but I saw the old man's purpose in trying -to flatter me.</p> - -<p>"Will you promise?" cried young Peter at length, after much more talk.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p><p>I considered the matter again. I thought of the Trevanion deeds, and -the forgiveness of half the debts my father had contracted. On the other -hand, I pictured myself going into the world a landless wanderer, after -having turned all the old servants adrift. It was not pleasant. Then I -tried to realize the work these two Trevisas wanted me to do. Should I -bring a maid, badly as she might be treated by the Killigrews (and I -much doubted this portion of their narrative), a maid well born and -beauteous, to be the wife of a crawling worm like young Peter Trevisa? -But this did not trouble me much. What did I care who she married? -Killigrew, a giant cut-throat, or Trevisa, a weak-chested, -knocked-kneed, sensual little vermin?—it mattered not. Neither did I -trouble much as to who possessed the Restormel lands. Still I was a -Trevanion, and a Trevanion hates dirty work—at least of that kind.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, I loved adventure. The thought of spiting these -Killigrews and taking the maid from them, even though I knew little of -them, except that they were Papists, stirred my blood. True I did not -understand all the motives of the Trevisas in selecting me to do this -work, but that did not matter. I doubted much if the maid would consent -to marry young Peter, although I brought her to Treviscoe. That, -however, was not my business. Old Peter regarded his son as a handsome -man, with brains enough for two; I knew him to be a flat-chested, ugly -weakling with plenty of cunning.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>"Have you made up your mind?" asked old Peter at length.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I cried.</p> - -<p>"You will undertake the work?"</p> - -<p>"On conditions."</p> - -<p>He got up from his seat and held out his hand to me. "Let's shake hands -on it," he cried.</p> - -<p>"Not yet," I replied; "I must name my conditions first."</p> - -<p>"Well, what are they, Roger, lad? Don't be unreasonable."</p> - -<p>"First," I replied, "this business will need money. It may take many -weeks. I know not what will happen to me on the way. I must not go to -Endellion a moneyless man."</p> - -<p>"We have thought of that," replied young Peter; "there are a hundred -guineas in this bag."</p> - -<p>"That is well," I replied; "it is a stingy allowance, but it may -suffice. The next condition I make is, that you draw up a writing -stating what you have just promised me."</p> - -<p>"It shall be done."</p> - -<p>"Then send for Mr. Hendy, my attorney, without delay."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"That it may be placed in his hands."</p> - -<p>"I—I cannot consent to that," cried old Peter. "I want no other person -to know our plans. I will keep the paper safely, lad, quite safely."</p> - -<p>I thought I saw his cunning now. If they kept the agreement, I should be -quite powerless to claim my own, even if I did my work. I saw,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> too, why -they were so willing to offer liberal terms.</p> - -<p>"If you refuse, I refuse," I replied. "I stake everything on this, Peter -Trevisa. If I fail to bring that maid here to Treviscoe, it will mean -that I am a dead man, for I swear that I will not give up while I am -alive. If I promise, I promise." This I said firmly, for I knew the -danger which attended my work.</p> - -<p>"But I will do right, you may trust me," wheedled the old man.</p> - -<p>"Maybe," I replied; "do as I say, or I refuse. I simply demand that you -write the matter down and sign it. On conditions that I bring the maid, -Nancy Molesworth, to Treviscoe, within two months, you give me back the -Trevanion deeds, the paper I gave Prideaux, and a declaration that you -forgive me the money you mentioned. If I do not bring the maid here in -that time, it shall be returned to you, and you can destroy it."</p> - -<p>He tried to wriggle out of this, and brought forward as many objections -as if he were a lawyer. But I did not yield, and so at length, doubtless -believing they would be able to get the better of me, even if I -succeeded in my mission, he promised.</p> - -<p>"Let us send for Lawyer Hendy at once, and then the matter will be -settled," he said, as though he were thinking of means whereby he could -keep me in his power.</p> - -<p>"Not yet," I said; "there is yet another condition."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><p>"No, no!" he cried; "I have made no more conditions."</p> - -<p>"This will have to be complied with," I replied with a laugh, for to see -these men yielding to my terms made me merry.</p> - -<p>"What more do you want?" asked old Peter after many words.</p> - -<p>"I demand that Lawyer Hendy shall manage Trevanion while I am away," I -said. "If I do not return in two months you may conclude that I am dead. -In that case I demand that certain sums of money be given to the -servants who have served our family for many years." These sums I named, -also the servants to whom they were to be given.</p> - -<p>"I agree to the first part of the condition, not the second," cried old -Peter.</p> - -<p>"Why?" I asked. "Do you expect me to fail? Do you think I shall be -killed? Is the expedition so dangerous? A little while ago you said it -was very easy, and that I should be sure to succeed."</p> - -<p>"But it is not fair," whined he. "In that case I should lose much money -for nothing."</p> - -<p>"And I risk everything. You will have to do this only in case of my -death. I may lose my life, and you refuse to lose a few paltry guineas."</p> - -<p>"I tell you I will not!" he cried.</p> - -<p>"Very well, then you may get some one else to do your work."</p> - -<p>"Then I will have Trevanion. Every stick, every field, every jot and -tittle will be mine, and you will have to leave the county a vagrant," -shrieked the old man.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p><p>"No," I said firmly. "I will go to Endellion on my own account. -Possibly the maid might bring me fortune."</p> - -<p>"But you promised you would not," pleaded young Peter.</p> - -<p>"I promised nothing of the sort. I said I would tell no man. Neither -will I."</p> - -<p>"But you hate women," he continued; "you have refused your lawyer to -marry a woman with money, even although it might save your estates!"</p> - -<p>I laughed aloud, for this speech was uttered in a whining, yet savage -way, just like a dog who is afraid whines, showing its teeth all the -time.</p> - -<p>"I did not know then what I know now," I said with glee, for it was a -pleasant thing to see these scheming money-grubs having the worst of a -game.</p> - -<p>They wriggled and twisted finely for some time, and then consented, as I -knew they would, for I saw from the beginning that they had concocted a -scheme which would mean much profit to them. Besides I believe that -young Peter was really much in love with the maid Nancy Molesworth. So -Lawyer Hendy was sent for, old Peter trying to ply me with wine the -meanwhile. In this he did not succeed, however, for I felt I must not -lose my head, and thus be led to do foolish things.</p> - -<p>We drew up the papers as I had stipulated; they were signed by both -Peter and his son, and Lawyer Hendy was given full instructions.</p> - -<p>On leaving, I took the money old Peter had offered me and counted it -carefully.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p><p>"You will do your best, Roger; you will not break your promise?" he -said tremulously.</p> - -<p>"I do not break promises," I replied.</p> - -<p>"When will you start?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow morning!"</p> - -<p>"God bless you, Roger."</p> - -<p>"I am not sure He can while I do your work," I replied.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IV.</span> <span class="smaller">MY JOURNEY TO ENDELLION.</span></h2> - -<p>The next morning I started to ride to the home of the Killigrews. I -could see that Daniel sorely wanted to accompany me, but I decided not -to take him. In nine cases out of ten a man does work better when -unencumbered. Mostly people who pretend to help fail to understand what -is in one's mind, and as a consequence generally bungle things -grievously. I did not want this matter bungled. The more I thought about -it the more was I determined to see the thing through successfully. The -picture of living at Trevanion, practically unharassed by debts, became -more pleasant each hour. Besides as a race we were not given to -bungling, and although I was little in love with the thought of having a -maid for a companion, I gloried in the prospect of measuring wits, and -if needs be swords, with these sturdy Killigrews. I therefore mounted my -favourite horse which I called "Chestnut," on account of his colour; a -horse the like of which was difficult<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> to be matched. He was going five, -stood over sixteen hands high, and was of a build which united strength -with speed to such a degree that half the squires in the county wanted -him. I had been sorely tempted to sell him, but had never yielded to the -temptation. I had always prided myself on riding the best horse in the -county, and Chestnut was certainly second to none. In spite of my -unusual weight he carried me easily, he would run until he dropped, and -possessed tremendous staying power. Added to this, I had seen him -foaled, had fed him with my own hands, and when Jenkins, the famous -horse-breaker, declared to me his inability to "break him in," I had -undertaken the task myself, and had succeeded. I did it by a new method, -too, for I never struck him a blow. I do not attribute this to any -special power I possess over horses generally, for Jenkins would in nine -cases out of ten succeed where I failed. The truth was, Chestnut, when -he was a colt, regarded me as a sort of playfellow and learnt to love -me. Being an intelligent animal, he soon understood me, indeed he had a -curious instinct by which he seemed to divine my thoughts and feelings. -I carefully armed myself, and placed in my saddle-bags as much -ammunition as I could conveniently carry. I did not know whether I -should stand in need of these things, but I thought it well to be -prepared. The county was infested by robbers, and as I carried a large -amount of money I thought it well to test my sword-blade and pistols. -Thus equipped I had no fear. I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> a fair shot, and generally held as a -strong swordsman.</p> - -<p>"When may I expect 'ee back then, sur, makin' so bold?" asked Daniel as -I mounted.</p> - -<p>"I don't know, Daniel; don't expect me until you see me. As you know, I -have given you full particulars, and Mr. Hendy will visit you -constantly."</p> - -<p>"You be goin' into danger, Master Roger," said the serving-man -tremulously. "Laive me go weth 'ee, sur."</p> - -<p>Daniel was nearly fifty years of age, and had served our family all his -life, so he had been allowed to take liberties.</p> - -<p>"Ould Smiler es jist aitin his 'ead off, sur, and I baint no good 'ere -when you be gone. Taake me weth 'ee, sur. You wa'ant be sorry."</p> - -<p>As I said, I did not think it best to take him, so I rode away leaving -him disconsolate. On my way to the home of the Killigrews I passed -through Truro, Tresillian, Ladock, and Mitchell, but nothing happened -worthy of note. I did not hurry, rather I rode slowly, for I wanted to -enjoy the quiet of the day. Everywhere new life was appearing. -Everywhere, too, the spirit of rest seemed to reign. In those days I did -not think much about the beauties of early spring, but I could not help -being impressed by the scene around Tresillian. The little arm of the -river enclosed by wooded hills was indeed fair to look upon. I rested my -horse at the gates of Tregothnan, where the Boscawens lived and looked -with somewhat envious eyes on the long line of yew-trees which bordered -the drive, and remembered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> that I had once loved the maid who was -related to the people who dwelt in the great house in the distance.</p> - -<p>I did not get beyond St. Columb that day, and, on arriving there, tried -to find out something about the Killigrews. I had not gone far enough -north, however. The main branch of the family, as all the country knows, -had lived at St. Erme, about five miles north of Truro, also at -Falmouth, but it had died out. Colman Killigrew was the descendant of -one Benet Killigrew, who, although he did not, like some of his -relations, become a courtier, was sufficiently fortunate to marry a -Mistress Scobell Rosecarrick, of Endellion, in which Endellion Castle -was situated. Through her this branch of the Killigrews became possessed -of a pleasant estate, and also became allied to an ancient race. This I -had learnt by reading Carew's survey of Cornwall after I had returned -from Peter Trevisa. Of their present condition, however, I knew nothing, -neither could I discover anything about them at St. Columb.</p> - -<p>Arriving at Wadebridge the next day, my attention was attracted by an -inn called "The Molesworth Arms." As the name of the maid I had promised -to take from Endellion to Treviscoe was Molesworth, and as it was -moreover the chief inn in the town, I decided to rest there and partake -of some refreshment. Although it was scarcely noon, I found the common -room of the inn filled with a number of people. Mostly the occupants -were farmers, although I fancied one or two of them belonged to the -gentlefolk of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>neighbourhood. I did not pay particular attention to -them, however, because my interest became centred in a hale-looking old -man, who was evidently a travelling story-teller and minstrel. He had -finished his singing, and was now telling a story before taking his -departure. There is no need that I should repeat the tale here; at the -same time I mention the incident because I was impressed by the wondrous -way he had of making us all look at him. One could have heard a pin drop -when he was speaking. I was fascinated by him too, partly, I expect, -because I did not understand him. As all the county knows, a -tale-teller, or a wandering singer, who is usually called "a droll," is -no unusual thing. Many of them had visited Trevanion, and I had always -given them food and a bed. Mostly they came when the house was full of -visitors, and regaled the company with song and story. But they were -mostly of the lower orders of life, and spoke the Cornish dialect. -Indeed their stories usually had but little charm apart from the -dialect, although occasionally tales were told which were interesting -because of their subject-matter. These were generally of a supernatural -order, and described the dead arising or spirits coming back to the -world to bring some message to their friends. I had never seen this man -at Trevanion, however, neither did he belong to the class who had -visited the house. It is true he spoke the Cornish dialect, but at times -he let words drop which showed he knew something of learning. He had an -air of authority with him, too, which suggested that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> he lived on terms -of equality with men of position. At least this was what I thought.</p> - -<p>He paid no attention to me, save to give me one glance, and when he had -finished his story said he must move on.</p> - -<p>"Stay till even', Uncle Anthony," said the innkeeper, "do 'ee now. A -passel of people will be comin'."</p> - -<p>"No," replied Uncle Anthony, "I have promised to be twelve miles away by -to-night, so I mus' be goin'."</p> - -<p>"Tich yer 'arp afore you go, Uncle," pleaded the innkeeper.</p> - -<p>"I sha'ant, I tell 'ee," replied Anthony.</p> - -<p>A number of coins were thrown to the droll, and then shouldering his -harp he left the inn.</p> - -<p>"'Ee's a cure es Uncle Anthony," said the innkeeper, turning to me; "'ee -es for sure, sur."</p> - -<p>"Who is he?" I asked. "He does not seem like a common droll."</p> - -<p>"He ed'n for sure, sur. I've 'eerd that Uncle do come of a rich family, -but law, you ca'ant git nothin' from un. Everybody es glad to zee un. -He's a clain off zinger, and can play butiful, 'ee can. Which way ded -you cum then, sur, makin' sa bould."</p> - -<p>"From southward," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Far, sur?"</p> - -<p>"From Truro."</p> - -<p>"Aw, I thot you wos a bit of a furriner. I cud zee you ded'n belong to -thaise paarts. Goin' fur, sur?"</p> - -<p>"Probably to Bodmin town," I replied, for I did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> not feel like taking -the talkative innkeeper into my confidence.</p> - -<p>"Aw, Uncle Anthony es well knawed in thais paarts, 'ee es for sure. And -'ee d' knaw a lot too. Wot Uncle doan knaw ed'n much use to nobody."</p> - -<p>I stayed at the inn till late in the afternoon, during which time I -plied the innkeeper with many questions, but I learnt nothing about the -Killigrews more than I had hitherto discovered; then I mounted Chestnut -and rode towards Endellion, in which parish the maid Nancy Molesworth -lived.</p> - -<p>I could not help noticing what a pretty spot Wadebridge was as I rode -over the bridge, after which the town was called. The tide was high, and -several good-sized vessels lay at the riverside. But I had naught to do -with them, so stopping only to take a glance at the river as it -broadened out towards Padstow, and again in the other direction as its -waters lapped the banks near the little village of Egloshayle, I rode on -towards St. Minver.</p> - -<p>It must be remembered that it was the twenty-sixth day of March, and so -daylight began to fade soon after six o'clock, and as I wanted to reach -the home of the Killigrews before dark, I rode rapidly. I puzzled my -brains sorely to know by what pretext I could enter the house, also -under what name I should present myself. I dared not tell them that I -was a Trevanion, for my people were well known. We were well known to -the Killigrews who had lived at Pendennis Castle,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> also to those who -possessed a place a few miles from Truro. Moreover, all the Trevanions -were stout Protestants, and as Colman Killigrew and his sons were rank -Papists, I dared not appear to them under this guise. My pride rebelled -against assuming a false name and professing a false religion, but I had -promised Peter Trevisa, and as in those days I was not over-particular -about such matters I vowed to let nothing stand in the way of my seeing -the business through.</p> - -<p>My purpose was to stay at Endellion several days, else how could I -accomplish my mission? In order to do this I must in some way establish -some claim upon the owner thereof. There would be no difficulty in -staying one night, or even two, for the laws of Cornish hospitality made -this easy. No house of importance would close its doors to a traveller, -be he rich or poor. I determined, therefore, to pretend that I was a -member of an obscure branch of the Penryn family, who were well known to -be Catholics; that I was the owner of a small Barton, and that I was -anxious to see a Catholic king on the throne of England. That I had -heard rumours of the probability of the grandson of King James coming to -England, and that could a leader be found I might render assistance to -the Catholic cause.</p> - -<p>Beyond this I decided upon nothing. If questions were asked me, I must -trust to my wits. I determined to keep a cool head and open eyes. If the -worst came to the worst I could fight with the best, indeed I rather -hoped for difficult work.</p> - -<p>Presently I saw the tower of Endellion Church.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> It was on a little -hillside, while all around the country was bare, as far as trees were -concerned. I rode towards the little village, and seeing a strapping -maid, I stopped and spoke to her.</p> - -<p>"Do you know where Squire Killigrew lives, my pretty maid?" I asked.</p> - -<p>She laughed in my face, revealing fine white teeth and shining blue -eyes.</p> - -<p>"Iss, sur. Endellion."</p> - -<p>"This is Endellion, is it not?" I said, pointing to the church.</p> - -<p>"This is the Church Town, this is. Endellion es dree miles from we, -right over ginst the say."</p> - -<p>"The Killigrews live there, you say? Do you know them?"</p> - -<p>"Knaw 'em. Who doan't?"</p> - -<p>"I don't, but I want to see them."</p> - -<p>The maid stared at me as though she were afraid, then she said almost -fearfully.</p> - -<p>"Doan't 'ee knaw 'em?"</p> - -<p>"No," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Do they knaw you?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Then doan't 'ee go, sur. They'll kill 'ee, sur. They be terble, sur. -They taake no noatice of the passon, nor the bible, sur."</p> - -<p>I saw that the maid was in earnest. No one was near, for I had not -entered the village, so I dismounted and stood by her side.</p> - -<p>"You seem a good maid," I said, "and I believe you would not tell a lie. -What know you of these Killigrews?"</p> - -<p>"I'm feared to tell 'ee, sur. Nearly everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> es feared to go there. -The 'ouse es full ov rubbers. Say rubbers, and land rubbers. People -miles round 'ave bin rubbed, and murdered, and people do zay tes they. -But we ca'ant tell. And everybody es feared to tackle 'em. They be -fighters, terble fighters. Some ov 'em do ride ere zumtimes like maazed -people. Doan't 'ee go 'mong 'em, sur, doan't 'ee now.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I must go."</p> - -<p>"Then taake care ov yezelf, sur. You be very big and strong, sur; and do -car a sword. But doan't 'ee vex 'em."</p> - -<p>"I'll be careful. Is that all you know?"</p> - -<p>"That's oall, sur."</p> - -<p>"And yonder is the road?" I said, pointing northwards.</p> - -<p>"Iss, sur, that's ev et."</p> - -<p>I gave the maid a crown piece and a kiss, whereupon she blushed finely, -but curtsied like one well reared, as I believe she was.</p> - -<p>"Whan you git to the crossways, sur, turn to the right. The left road do -laid to Rosecarrick. Do 'ee be careful, sur, an' doan't 'ee vex 'em."</p> - -<p>I laughed as I mounted my horse. "I'll remember," I said; "what is your -name, my maid?"</p> - -<p>"Jennifer Lanteglos, sur," and she curtsied again as I rode away.</p> - -<p>"Evidently Jennifer Lanteglos is afraid of the Killigrews," I thought as -I rode away. It was now becoming dusk, but I felt sure I could easily -cover the three miles before dark. I had not gone a mile, when I saw a -man tramping along the lane. I stopped as I overtook him. I saw that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> -was the droll I had seen at Molesworth Arms at Wadebridge.</p> - -<p>"Uncle Anthony," I said, using the term I had heard the innkeeper use, -for the term "uncle" is one of respect towards elderly people, "go you -my way?"</p> - -<p>"What a question," retorted the old man. "How do I know ef you doan't -tell me where you be goin'?"</p> - -<p>"I am going to Squire Colman Killigrew's at Endellion," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Do 'ee think you'll git in?" laughed Uncle Anthony.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied, "the Killigrews are of an old Cornish family, they -will give shelter to a traveller."</p> - -<p>He eyed me keenly. "A traveller! Ugh! a purty traveller. But doan't 'ee -be sa sure of gittin' into Endellion!"</p> - -<p>"Go you there?"</p> - -<p>"Iss," he replied.</p> - -<p>"Then if you can get shelter, why not I?"</p> - -<p>"I—I?" he retorted sharply. "I go everywhere. Nobody'll zay no to ould -Ant'ny. I zing, an' tell taales, an' shaw 'em wizard's tricks, I do."</p> - -<p>"Then if we go as fellow-travellers, both will be taken in."</p> - -<p>"I zeed 'ee at Wadebridge," he said. "You come from a long way off, you -do. Wa's yer name, young squire?"</p> - -<p>"Roger Penryn."</p> - -<p>"Penryn, Penryn," he repeated the name <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>slowly, and looked at me again. -"Iss, we'll be fellow-travellers. I'll take 'ee to Endellion."</p> - -<p>I did not understand his behaviour, but I determined to make the best -use of him that I could. The innkeeper at Wadebridge had told me that -every house was open to Uncle Anthony, for in country places where -entertainment was scarce he was regarded as a godsend.</p> - -<p>"You look tired, Uncle," I said; "get on my horse, and ride the -remaining distance."</p> - -<p>He did not speak, but when I had dismounted he prepared to climb on to -Chestnut.</p> - -<p>"It's a long time since I was on the back of a 'oss like this," he -remarked when he was seated.</p> - -<p>"And you would not remain long on," I replied, "if I was not here to -keep Chestnut in order."</p> - -<p>He opened his mouth as if to contradict me sharply, but seeming to think -better of it, simply asked me to hand his harp to him.</p> - -<p>"I can carry it," I assured him.</p> - -<p>"No one carries that harp but me," he replied sharply; "the devil wud -git into un, if other hands than mine did hould un."</p> - -<p>So I handed him the instrument, more and more puzzled at his manner of -speech. I walked slowly by Chestnut's head, who seemed to resent his -change of rider, but a word from me kept him quiet, after which no -conversation took place till I saw a large stone gateway.</p> - -<p>"What's yon?" I asked Anthony.</p> - -<p>"The gateway to the place where the Killigrews do live," he replied.</p> - -<p>I had hardly opened the gate when I heard a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> tramping of feet and a -hurried sound of voices near. Immediately a rough hand was laid on my -arm, and I saw that we were surrounded by several men. It was now nearly -dark, and I could not well distinguish who had attacked us. Bidding -Chestnut be still I freed myself in a moment, and drew my sword.</p> - -<p>"No," cried Uncle Anthony. "Doan't 'ee knaw me, Clement Killigrew; -doan't 'ee knaw Uncle Anthony, Benet, Colman?"</p> - -<p>"Down," cried a strong deep voice. "Uncle Anthony on horseback! What -means this?"</p> - -<p>"Visitors to Endellion, Benet; a supper and a bed!" replied the droll.</p> - -<p>"A supper and bed for thee, and welcome, Uncle Anthony," was the reply, -"but for this jackanapes,—no, we keep no open house for such."</p> - -<p>"Jackanapes yourself," I cried hotly, for I could ill brook such words. -"You carry swords, come on then one at a time, and we will see who is a -jackanapes."</p> - -<p>But no swords were drawn. Instead they looked at me keenly.</p> - -<p>"Is this horse thine?"</p> - -<p>"It is."</p> - -<p>"Why let old Uncle Anthony ride on him then?"</p> - -<p>"That is my affair, not yours."</p> - -<p>"Know you to whom you speak?"</p> - -<p>"I thought I did at first. I was told that this is the entrance to -Colman Killigrew's house, and I thought you might be Killigrews. But -they be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> gentlemen, and know decent ways, so I judge you cannot be -they."</p> - -<p>A general laugh followed this sally, and then one of them spoke in low -tones to Uncle Anthony.</p> - -<p>"We have been mistaken," said one presently. "If you bear the name of -Penryn, come to Endellion, and welcome. We may know your business later -on. But we live a rough life here, and make not friends easily."</p> - -<p>"But they be cutthroats, footpads, who attack a man unawares," I -replied.</p> - -<p>"And we be Killigrews, Roger Penryn, for such is the name Uncle Anthony -says you have given," was the reply. "We mistook our man, that is all, -and beg to tender our apologies for discourteous treatment. We think all -the better of you for drawing your sword. But put it up, man, we will -conduct you to Endellion. At the same time you must confess that it is -not oft that a gentleman dismounts and lets a wandering tale-teller sit -on his horse."</p> - -<p>"The old man was tired, and——" I did not finish the sentence, for I -had become cool again, and I knew I had a difficult game to play, if I -would get the better of these wild fellows.</p> - -<p>I could not see their faces, but I saw they were strong, well-built men. -They carried themselves well, too, and did not slouch along as country -squires often do.</p> - -<p>Presently I heard the roar of the sea, and soon after saw the dim -outline of a large castellated building. Here and there lights twinkled, -but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> altogether it was as gloomy a place as one could well conceive.</p> - -<p>"We give you a welcome at Endellion," said one of the Killigrews who had -not hitherto spoken. "We be a rough branch of the old family tree, but -the same blood flows through our veins."</p> - -<p>Some one gave a shrill whistle and a serving-man appeared.</p> - -<p>"Take this horse, and see that it is well curry-combed and foddered," -was the command.</p> - -<p>A minute later, I with the others entered the old house from which, if I -accomplished my purpose, I was to take the maid called Nancy Molesworth. -My blood tingled at the thought of wild adventure; all the same, as I -saw these sturdy men by my side, I very much doubted the outcome of the business.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER V.</span> <span class="smaller">MY FIRST NIGHT AT ENDELLION.</span></h2> - -<p>I had barely time to take note of the house on entering. In the dim -light I could just see the grim gray walls on the outside and the great -hall within. But nothing appeared to me with distinctness. The strident -voices of the Killigrews had the effect of making me keep my hand on the -hilt of my sword. I remember, too, that my heart beat faster than its -wont, while both my eyes and ears seemed preternaturally sharp. Nowhere -was a woman to be seen, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>although I was no lover of women, -especially of those who belong to that class with which my people mated, -I felt that a house filled with rough men was no desirable residence for -a gentlewoman.</p> - -<p>Presently I was ushered into the dining-hall, a huge oak-paneled room. -At the head of the table sat an old man. He had long white hair and -beard, and beneath his rugged forehead, and overshadowed by bristling -eyebrows, gleamed a pair of piercing black eyes. He arose as I entered, -and I saw that he was well on towards seventy. "A warm welcome, Roger -Penryn," he said. "From what I hear my sons played a rough game at the -gates yonder. I am sorry for this. The truth is, they thought that the -Hanson varlets were playing them a trick. But enough of that. A man of -your stamp bears no ill-will because of a mistake."</p> - -<p>He kept his eyes on me all the time he spoke as if he would read my very -soul, and I winced at the thought that I appeared under an assumed name, -for I hate fighting an under-handed battle. At the same time I was sure -that had I appeared as a Trevanion, I should have been ill-received.</p> - -<p>"It is but little wonder in these rough times, that suspicion is -aroused," I said. "There are many rumours of treason afloat in my part -of the country. Indeed, Hugh Boscawen is reported to be raising an army -to put down a rebellion there at this time."</p> - -<p>He nodded his head, still eyeing me keenly.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p><p>"Know you Hugh Boscawen?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Not well," I replied, "but I have seen him."</p> - -<p>"And have thought of joining his ranks?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Nay, a Penryn strikes not a blow for the House of Hanover, when the -real King of England is perhaps eating his heart away in France, -yonder."</p> - -<p>"Ah, say you so?" he cried eagerly. He seemed to be about to say more, -but checked himself. "We will not talk of these things now," he said; -"perchance when you have been here a few hours we can discuss such -matters. Besides, here come my sons. You are a strapping fellow, Roger -Penryn, but methinks my Benet is taller."</p> - -<p>A servant entered bearing a huge haunch of beef, another followed -bearing other things, and then all being ready we fell to right -heartily.</p> - -<p>Old Colman Killigrew talked pleasantly with me as we ate, and when the -meal was over he pressed wine upon me. But I had passed the age of -hot-blooded boyhood, and, knowing the work I had to do, drank -cautiously, for a man filled with wine has a loose tongue and an unwary -head.</p> - -<p>"Hath old Uncle Anthony supped?" asked Colman Killigrew presently. "Let -him come in when he is ready."</p> - -<p>I was glad to have the old man say this, for I was becoming weary of the -talk of the young Killigrews. They drank freely, and grew heedless as to -the language they used. For, careless as I was in those days, I loved -not to hear men speak of maidens as though they were brute<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> beasts. I -have also discovered that men, when they live away from the society of -women altogether, grow churlish. I had seen this in my own life, -although I had not fallen so low as these men of Endellion.</p> - -<p>One among these sons, however, was different from the rest. He was -neither tall nor handsome like his brothers. I discovered that he was -called Otho, after an ancient member of the race, and seemed to be -regarded as the wise-man of the family. He had more learning too than -the others, and spoke with more taste. He was not pleasant to look upon; -he had a short bull-neck, and there was a round upon his back which -almost approached a hump. I saw, however, that his hands were large and -his wrists thick. Moreover, his legs, while ill-shaped, were thickset -and evidently powerful. He did not drink freely like the others, nor did -he talk much, but he watched me closely.</p> - -<p>When Uncle Anthony entered, I noticed that he was regarded with great -respect. He had evidently visited the house often, and knew the ways of -the inmates. He had a seat of honour beside old Colman Killigrew too, -and they conversed together in low tones, while the sons plied me with -questions about my life in the South.</p> - -<p>Presently a number of the serving people came in, and with them three -women-folk. They were ill-favoured, however, not like the kitchen maiden -I had kept at Trevanion. Two out of the three were past mid-age, too, -while the third was a large-limbed wench, angular and awkward, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -evidently as strong as a man. So far, not a sign of Nancy Molesworth was -visible.</p> - -<p>"Now, Uncle Anthony, a song and a story!" cried Otho Killigrew.</p> - -<p>"Shall it be a little zong or a little stoary first, then?" asked Uncle -Anthony in broad Cornish.</p> - -<p>"A song first, then a story, and then a galloping song and dance to -finish up with," replied Otho.</p> - -<p>Uncle Anthony swept his eyes quickly around the room; then, standing up, -he, bowed towards Colman Killigrew.</p> - -<p>"I drink the 'ealth of the 'ouse," he said, bending towards the owner of -Endellion. "The Killigrews 'ave been called 'A grove ov aigels' -(eagles); they 'ave flied 'igh; they 'ave stood avore kings, they 'ave. -Ther've bin wisht times laately, but a better day es comin'. The raace -'ave allays bin great fer lovin' and drinkin' and fightin', and their -sun es risin' again. I can zee et."</p> - -<p>"May it come quickly!" cried Benet, a giant of a fellow. "There are no -women to love around here—they are afraid of us; but drinking is always -good; as for fighting, I long for the clash of steel."</p> - -<p>All the brothers echoed this, save Otho; he looked steadily into the -huge fireplace, and spoke not. From that moment I felt sure that he was -the one selected to wed Nancy Molesworth.</p> - -<p>Uncle Anthony touched his harp-strings and began to sing a plaintive -song. I had heard it often before; but he sung with more feeling than -did the drolls who had visited Trevanion. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> moreover peculiar to -Cornwall, and, interspersed as it was by Uncle Anthony's explanations, -caused even the hard-featured serving-women of Endellion to wipe their -eyes. I will write it down here, for the song is being forgotten, while -the fashion of receiving wandering story-tellers is fast dying out. This -is how he sung it:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Cowld blaws the wind to-day, sweet'art,</div> -<div class="i1">Cowld be the draps ov raain;</div> -<div>The fust trew-luv that ever I 'ad,</div> -<div class="i1">In the greenwud 'ee wos slain.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"'Twas daown in the gaarden-green, sweet'art,</div> -<div class="i1">Where you and I did waalk;</div> -<div>The purtiest vlower that in the gaarden growed</div> -<div class="i1">Es rinkled (withered) to a staalk.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The staalk will graw no laives, sweet'art,</div> -<div class="i1">The vlowers will ne'er return:</div> -<div>And now my oan love es dead and gone,</div> -<div class="i1">Wot can I do but mourn?"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>"The pore maid did zing this," explained Uncle Anthony. "She was in a -wisht way, for maidens be vit fer nothin' 'cipt they've got a man by -'em. The man es the tree, an' the maid es an ivy-laif, and tha's oal -'bout it. But you do knaw, my deears, that when a man 'ave bin dead one -year, 'ee do allays cum back. Tha's religion, ed'n et then? Zo—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"A twelvemonth an' a day bein' gone,</div> -<div class="i1">The sperrit rised and spok:</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>"'My body es clay cowld, sweet'art,</div> -<div class="i1">My breath smells 'evvy an' strong;</div> -<div>And ef you kiss my cowld white lips,</div> -<div class="i1">Your time will not be long.'</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, but thicky maid wos a true maid. She cudden rest till she 'ad -kissed the booy she loved; and w'en she'd kissed 'im once, she loved him -more and more. Zo she cried:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Oa, wawn mooar kiss from yer dear cowld lips,</div> -<div class="i1">One kiss is oal I craave;</div> -<div>Oa, wawn mooar kiss from yer dear cowld lips,</div> -<div class="i1">An' return back to yer graave."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>After this, Uncle Anthony sung in a low, wailing tone a stormy kind of -duet between the maid and what he called her "booy's sperrit," who tried -to make her accompany him to the world of shadows, and after much -weeping, she departed with her lover.</p> - -<p>"And zo et es, my deears," remarked Uncle Anthony, "that trew luv is -stronger'n death."</p> - -<p>"That's a wisht zong, sure enough, Uncle Anthony," remarked one of the -women, who at such times were allowed especial liberty. "Strick up -summin' purty and sweet and lively." Whereupon he sung a song about a -sailor who courted a rich nobleman's daughter "worth five hundred -thousan' in gould." This pleased them much, after which he started to -tell a story. At first he did not interest me, for my mind was filled -with many things; but presently I saw that his tale was original. He -brought in our meeting in the Molesworth Arms at Wadebridge, and -insinuated many surmises concerning me. He took a long time to tell the -story, for he weaved in a love episode, a duel, the appearance of a -ghost and a wizard, besides many droll sayings peculiar to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> county; -but through it all I could see that he aimed at me, and gave hints that -he suspected I had other motives in coming to Endellion than those which -I had revealed. He described me as an unknown cavalier who wore a mask; -he also spoke of a wise man whose eyes pierced the mask. It is true he -dated the story in the far back past; all the same, I could not help -seeing his meaning. I doubt whether any of the listeners other than -myself saw his drift—but I felt sure that he had suspicions concerning -me. Whether his feelings were friendly or no, I could not gather; -neither could I understand his motive in so turning the story. The tale -was well liked, however, for the old man weaved it well. He ended it by -telling us that the maid wedded the man she loved, and that when she was -on her way to church, she trod on flowers strewn by angel hands, while -angel voices sung songs of hope and gladness to her.</p> - -<p>"And what became of the masked cavalier?" asked Otho Killigrew when he -had finished.</p> - -<p>"I'll tell 'ee that next time I come this way," replied Uncle Anthony. -"That's a paart of another stoary."</p> - -<p>"And the wise man?" I asked,—"what became of him?"</p> - -<p>"The wise man, Maaster Roger Penryn—for tha's the naame you towld me to -call 'ee—es livin' still. A trewly wise man don' never die. 'Ee do live -top 'igh plaaces, my deear. A wise man do mount a 'igh rock, and rest in -paice. Around 'im es the wild, treacherous waaste, but up there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> 'ee's -saafe. 'Appy be they who in trouble seek the shelter of the wise man's -'igh plaace. 'Tes the shadda of a great rock in a weary land."</p> - -<p>I pondered much about the old man's tale, and made up my mind that, if I -could, I would speak with him alone. I decided that he was not what he -seemed; but how I could converse with him again was not easy to -discover, for he expressed a desire to retire, and Otho Killigrew -continued to watch me closely.</p> - -<p>Before I was in any way able to decide what to do, I knew by the baying -of the hounds outside and the sounds at the door that some visitor was -approaching. At a look from Colman Killigrew, all the serving-people -left the room. Uncle Anthony also went out with them, saying that he -would retire to rest.</p> - -<p>The newcomer turned out to be one John Polperro, a fair-spoken young -fellow of about five-and-twenty. I saw at a glance that he was a -gentleman, although of no great force of character. He was dressed in -accordance with the latest foppery of the times, and was, I thought, -mighty careful about his attire. His face was somewhat weak, but there -was no vice, no meanness in it. I presently discovered, too, that on -occasion he could speak boldly.</p> - -<p>Colman Killigrew's welcome was by no means warm, while each of the sons -looked at him distrustfully, almost savagely. But he did not seem to -heed their evident dislike.</p> - -<p>"I would like a word with you alone," he said to the squire.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>"I am alone," was the reply. "I have no secrets from my sons."</p> - -<p>"But there is a stranger among you," retorted Polperro.</p> - -<p>"He is a friend who honours us by staying with us. He is of the same -religion and hath the same interests."</p> - -<p>I winced at this, and rose to leave, but Colman Killigrew, by a gesture, -bid me remain.</p> - -<p>"But this is not an affair for the ears of all," retorted Polperro.</p> - -<p>"I have no affairs with you that may not be discussed by all here," was -the cool response.</p> - -<p>I wondered at this, for I could not fathom the old man's design. Perhaps -he thought that by treating me as one of his family, even though I was a -stranger, he would cause me to be more obedient to his wishes in the -future. I listened eagerly, however, for I remembered why I was there.</p> - -<p>"Be it so, then," replied Polperro with a touch of anger in his voice. -"You know, then, that I have met Mistress Nancy Molesworth?"</p> - -<p>The old man nodded.</p> - -<p>"I love her."</p> - -<p>Colman Killigrew betrayed no emotion whatever, but the sons made a -movement expressive of scorn and derision.</p> - -<p>Polperro saw this, and the colour began to mount to his cheeks. I could -see, too, that he had difficulty in refraining from angry words; but he -mastered himself.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>"I have reason to believe that my sentiments are not unrequited."</p> - -<p>Still Colman Killigrew was silent.</p> - -<p>"You know that a messenger was sent to you. He bore a letter containing -an offer of marriage. This you received and read."</p> - -<p>The old man nodded.</p> - -<p>"This you received and read," repeated John Polperro, "but I cannot -think you fairly understood the purport of the letter, otherwise you -would have sent back a different answer."</p> - -<p>"The answer was plain."</p> - -<p>"But curt and uncivil. It was not such an answer as one gentleman may -send to another."</p> - -<p>"I said that eagles mate not with hawks."</p> - -<p>"That is why I cannot think you understood. My family is at least as old -as your own."</p> - -<p>"On the father's side, perchance—but on the mother's?—Bah! we will not -speak of it."</p> - -<p>Young John Polperro's hand played nervously with the hilt of his sword; -but still he kept his temper under control.</p> - -<p>"I am come with my father's consent and approval," he continued; "I am -come in person to offer my name and fortune—a name as good as your own, -a fortune more than equal to that of the Killigrews."</p> - -<p>"I give you the same answer that I gave to your messenger," was the -response.</p> - -<p>John Polperro still kept outwardly cool.</p> - -<p>"Then I have another proposition to make," he continued, but this time -his voice took a loftier tone. "I am here to offer Mistress Nancy -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>Molesworth the protection of my father's house. I am here to offer her -safety and honour!"</p> - -<p>The old man started to his feet. He had been pricked on the quick at -last. "What mean you, sir?" he cried.</p> - -<p>"It is well known that ever since she came from the convent, she has -been afraid to live here!" cried Polperro. "That your sons pay her -attention which she hates; that she loathes the thought of living where -modesty, virtue, and honour are all outraged!"</p> - -<p>I think he was sorry he had uttered these words as soon as they had -passed his lips.</p> - -<p>All the Killigrews looked as though they would have liked to have struck -him dead. On my part, however, I had a feeling of admiration. Courage is -always good, even although it be shown at the wrong time. Nothing was -said or done, however. They remembered that the man stood in their own -house.</p> - -<p>"The maid has had but one occasion to speak of her woes to any one," -continued Polperro. "You allowed her to visit Mistress Arundell, where -she met with a friend she had known at the convent school. There, as you -know, it was my good fortune to meet her."</p> - -<p>I felt he was a fool. Why could he not have spoken more guardedly? If he -wanted to do Mistress Nancy an injury, he could not have accomplished -his purpose better. I saw, too, that old Colman Killigrew ground his -teeth with rage, and I heard him mutter something about his being mad to -let the girl go a-gadding about at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> people's houses. For a moment I -thought he would have answered Polperro angrily; but such was not his -plan.</p> - -<p>"You stand in my own hall, or it might go hard with you," he said -presently. "But enough. You spoke in hot blood, just as a lovesick fool -may. Let me also say this, although you deserve not this explanation: -Mistress Nancy Molesworth is betrothed to my eldest son Otho according -to her father's wish. Therefore her honour is safe, and she will be -wedded to one of her own degree."</p> - -<p>"Is this by her own will?" cried Polperro.</p> - -<p>"A maid's will is like the wind in April," replied the old man, "and is -no more to be relied on. But I tell you this, she shall be guarded -safely."</p> - -<p>"Kept in prison!" retorted Polperro; "and these," looking with scorn on -the young men, "will be her gaolers."</p> - -<p>He turned to leave the room, but did not flinch at the angry looks -bestowed upon him. Benet Killigrew turned to follow him, but he was -stopped by his father's word.</p> - -<p>"He stands in my own hall, Benet, and must be treated as a guest," he -said. "The time may come when the laws of courtesy may not hinder you -from giving him the chastisement he deserves."</p> - -<p>"That time cannot come too soon for me!" cried John Polperro. -"Meanwhile, do not think Mistress Nancy Molesworth is without friends. -And besides that, it might be profitable for you to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>remember——" he -did not finish the sentence. Perchance he felt that silence were wise.</p> - -<p>"I did not think you would witness such a scene, Roger Penryn," said the -old man when he had gone, "for in truth I did not believe the lad had so -much spirit."</p> - -<p>"He spoke stoutly," I responded, not daring to ask the questions which -hung on my lips. "He sadly lacked wisdom, however, and will land himself -in trouble if he be not careful."</p> - -<p>"I had many things to say to you to-night," remarked old Colman -Killigrew, "but they must stand over. I am not as young as I was, and -young Polperro's words have ill prepared me to speak on matters which -lie near my heart, and I trust to yours also. But the opportunity will -come to-morrow."</p> - -<p>I bent my head gravely. I was glad he had put off his questionings, for, -truth to tell, I dreaded the man. I instinctively felt his eyes probing -me. I knew he had been making plans all through the evening to find out -who I was, and why I had come northward.</p> - -<p>"I will retire to rest," he said; "perchance you, too, will be glad to -get to your room?"</p> - -<p>"I will go with him," said Otho Killigrew; "it is easy for a stranger to -lose his way in this house."</p> - -<p>So I said good-night to his brothers, who pressed me to stay among them -and drink another bottle of wine, and walked up a broad stairway with -Otho by my side.</p> - -<p>On reaching the top of the stairway I saw a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> walking to and fro; but -he seemed to pay no heed to us as we passed by him.</p> - -<p>"You will stay a day or two with us, I trust?" remarked Otho.</p> - -<p>I answered in the affirmative.</p> - -<p>"And then?—go you farther north?"</p> - -<p>"That will depend on what your father thinks," I responded.</p> - -<p>He gave me a searching glance, but spoke no word more until we reached -my bedroom door.</p> - -<p>"I am afraid you have had a rough welcome," he said; "but we have the -name for a rough people. All the same, we are faithful to our friends."</p> - -<p>"Yes," I assented.</p> - -<p>"The Killigrews never yet turned their backs upon those who merited -their friendship," concluded Otho; "but they never forgive those who -betray their trust. Never!"</p> - -<p>He uttered the words slowly and distinctly, as was his manner of speech.</p> - -<p>"Sleep soundly, Roger Penryn," he said as he bade me good-night. "The -Tower of London is not more safely guarded than Endellion."</p> - -<p>"It is good of you to tell me," I replied; "but a good sword and a ready -hand are all I have needed in the past."</p> - -<p>To this he did not reply, and I heard his steps echo along the corridor. -He walked slowly, like a man deep in thought. Did he suspect anything, -or did my mission make me suspicious?</p> - -<p>The room into which I was ushered was plain and bare. The walls were -whitewashed, the floor almost wholly uncovered. I sat for a long while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> -on the bed in deep thought, and my musings were not pleasant. I almost -regretted having undertaken to do Peter Trevisa's bidding. Not because -of the danger. Nay, that was almost the only redeeming feature in the -business. And yet I tried to persuade myself that my mission was good. -Were not these Killigrews lawless men? Should I not be rendering signal -service to the maid Nancy Molesworth by taking her away from a place -which, according to Polperro, she loathed? And still I was not -satisfied.</p> - -<p>Presently I thought I heard a rustling outside. Instantly I went to the -door and opened it softly. The corridor was but dimly lighted, but I saw -the retreating form of a woman. She did not look a well-bred dame; at -the same time she was different from the serving-women I had seen in the -hall. I started to follow her; but before I had taken two steps, she -turned, and I saw her face. Dim as was the light, her features seemed -familiar. Evidently she was a superior kind of serving-maid. In a -moment, however, she vanished.</p> - -<p>"Ah," I thought, "there is some stairway yonder!" I looked cautiously -around before starting to seek it, then stopped. I heard the clank of -steel. I saw the man I had passed with Otho Killigrew, still pacing the -corridor.</p> - -<p>"A sentinel, eh?" I mused; "truly, the place is guarded."</p> - -<p>Noiselessly I slid back to my room. The man had not seen me. My -stockinged foot touched a piece of paper, which was carefully folded.</p> - -<p>Close to my bed the candles flickered in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> socket; so, after -carefully bolting my door, I made my way towards them. On unfolding the -paper I saw one word only. The word was</p> - -<p class="center">ROCHE.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VI.</span> <span class="smaller">THE USES OF A SERVING-MAID.</span></h2> - -<p>A few minutes later I was in total darkness. But I did not sleep. My -mind was much occupied by what I had seen and heard. I tried to -understand the purport thereof, as seemed necessary at such a time. -Several facts were plain. Foremost in point of interest was that the -maid Mistress Nancy Molesworth was in the house. I fell to thinking -about her, and wondered much as to what she was like. From what I -gathered, too, she was not indisposed to receive the attention of John -Polperro, who had that night asked for her hand in marriage. But that -did not trouble me. What should I care whom she married? It was for me -to take her to Treviscoe, and thus be freed from my difficulties. The -maid's love was nothing to me. That was doubtless as changeable as the -wind. I remembered, too, that she was betrothed to Otho Killigrew. Then -there were three who wanted her. I laughed as I thought of it. I -imagined, however, that Restormel lands had far more to do with the -desire to get her than had her beauty or her goodness. The Killigrews, -however, for the present possessed her; but they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> did not reckon upon -me. She was well guarded, and perchance the sentinel in the corridor was -especially appointed as her watchman. The wench I had seen was perhaps -Mistress Nancy Molesworth's serving-woman. But what did that piece of -paper mean? What was the purport of the word written thereon? <i>Roche</i>—I -would bear it in mind. When morning came I would again examine the -thing. Perhaps it would reveal more to me in the light of day.</p> - -<p>By and by I fell asleep without having formed any plan of action. But -when morning came, my mind was clear and my hand steady.</p> - -<p>The window of my room faced the open country. Beneath me was a -courtyard, perhaps twenty feet down. There were also rooms above—how -high, I could not tell. As I opened the window the clear spring air -entered the room, likewise the sound of the sea. I discovered afterwards -that, like several others on this northern coast, the house was built -close to the cliff; but I could see nothing of it at the time. The sound -of the waves was pleasant to me, however, as was the smell of the -morning air, and I felt like singing for the very joy of youth, and -health, and strength. On remembering my mission, however, I became more -thoughtful; and, hastily dressing myself, I found my way towards the -dining-hall.</p> - -<p>On walking along the corridor, no guard appeared. Evidently his work was -regarded as done; but all around me was the hum of voices. There were -doubtless eyes and ears around me of which I knew nothing.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><p>Otho Killigrew was coming in from the outside as I came into the -entrance hall. He greeted me cordially, although I thought his face -looked anxious.</p> - -<p>"You rise early, Roger Penryn," he said; "my brothers have not yet -appeared."</p> - -<p>"The morning air was so sweet that I wanted to drink it to the full," I -answered, moving towards the door.</p> - -<p>"I will go out with you," said Otho. "Endellion is a quaint old place. -Men build not houses so now."</p> - -<p>We stood outside, and I looked on the grim gray building. Young Peter -Trevisa had described it rightly. An old castle still stood. It was -mostly a ruin, but well preserved. The house in which I had slept had -been modeled somewhat on the lines of the place which had been reared in -the far back past.</p> - -<p>"It was built in the old feudal days," remarked Otho, nodding towards -the ruin. "The Killigrews are an ancient race."</p> - -<p>"But the Killigrews have not always lived here?"</p> - -<p>"The Rosecarricks have, and the Killigrews were mixed with them many -generations ago. Perhaps that is why the newer part of the house was -modeled on the old. I am glad the ruins stand so well. I have discovered -many a secret place. I love things old, too."</p> - -<p>"Old systems, you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I was not thinking of them then,—but do. I love the feudal -system. It is the only way a people can be knitted to a crown."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p><p>"But the Killigrews are not all in love with the crown," I suggested -meaningly.</p> - -<p>"No; we are the only branch of the family who do not pay homage to the -new order of things. You are a Catholic, so I can speak freely. We long -for a Catholic king to reign. We keep up the feudal system somewhat, -too. Our tenants are bound to us; so much so, that we could raise many -men to help in a cause we espoused."</p> - -<p>I changed the subject, for I saw whither he was drifting.</p> - -<p>"The back of the house almost overhangs the cliffs," I said.</p> - -<p>"Yes; there be several of a similar nature—Rosecarrick, Trevose, -Polwhele, and others. It was thought necessary in the old times."</p> - -<p>He accompanied me around the building, talking in his careful measured -way all the time, while I examined, as well as I was able, the -particular features of the place. We had barely compassed the house when -a great clanging bell rang.</p> - -<p>On entering the dining-hall we found breakfast prepared; but old Colman -Killigrew did not appear. Benet Killigrew met me, and examined me as -though he were calculating my strength. I could have sworn that he would -have liked to have challenged me to wrestle.</p> - -<p>Presently Otho, who had left me, came back, telling me that his father -was too unwell to meet me at breakfast, but hoped to be well enough to -leave his bed-chamber when evening came; in the mean while, he could -trust his sons to assure me of his welcome.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>Why, I knew not, but I felt somewhat disturbed at this; but simply -expressing my sorrow at his ill health, we sat down to breakfast. What -happened during the day was of little moment, only when night came I -reflected that never for a minute had I been left alone. Either one or -other of the Killigrews had been with me. It might only be a happening, -or it might be they had received orders not to allow me out of their -sight. Moreover, only one thing of interest had been mentioned, and that -appeared of no consequence. It was simply that old Anthony, the droll, -had left early. I should have thought nothing of this, only I had made -sure that he wanted to speak to me, and had moreover determined to ask -him the meaning of the story he had told.</p> - -<p>Just before the evening meal I had a few minutes to myself, and was able -to reflect calmly on my position. If, as I suspected, the Killigrews had -determined to watch me, I must take bold steps at once in order to -accomplish my work. In this surmise I was right, as will appear -presently. But how to commence, was my difficulty. It was plain that -Mistress Nancy was closely watched; and as I had no thought as to what -part of the house she was kept, and as she knew naught of me, there -appeared no way by which I could speak to her. Besides, even if such -chance did occur, how could I approach her? To say the least, I was an -impostor, acting a lie in order to maintain my right to Trevanion. That -was the thought which galled me. For the rest, I cared nothing; but I -did wince at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> the thought of a Trevanion being afraid to tell his name.</p> - -<p>I had almost decided to leave the house at once, and then think of -another way to accomplish my work, when I heard the rustle of a woman's -dress outside the door. In a second I was in the corridor, and saw the -same serving-maid I had seen the previous night. I slipped back into my -chamber again immediately, for coming towards her I saw Otho Killigrew.</p> - -<p>"Your mistress, Amelia?" said Otho; "she is better disposed to-day, I -hope."</p> - -<p>"She's fine and wisht," replied the girl. "She do set and mope oall day -long. She've bin worse to-day."</p> - -<p>"Ah! Do you know why?"</p> - -<p>"She seed Maaster John Polperro go way laast night."</p> - -<p>Otho uttered a curse.</p> - -<p>"She's so loanly, she've nothing to do. She've no books to raid, nor -nothin'."</p> - -<p>"Tell her I'll go to Rosecarrick this night and bring some for her. I'll -take them to her."</p> - -<p>"She waan't see 'ee, Maaster Otho," replied the girl earnestly; "but -p'r'aps it would soffen 'er ef you wos to git 'er somethin' to raid. -And, Maaster Otho."</p> - -<p>"Yes, what is it?"</p> - -<p>"I wish you would laive me go ovver to Church Town to-night. I waant to -see Jennifer, my sister."</p> - -<p>"And what will your mistress do meanwhile?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p><p>"She doan't spaik to me when I'm weth 'er, sur. Besides, I waan't be -long."</p> - -<p>"Very well," replied Otho, after hesitating a little. "When do you wish -to go?"</p> - -<p>"I might so well go after supper, sur."</p> - -<p>"See that your mistress wants nothing before you go."</p> - -<p>"Oall right, sur."</p> - -<p>Instantly I made up my mind that I would speak to Amelia that night. I -felt sure that the maid was sister to Jennifer Lanteglos, whom I had -seen the previous night. She was going to Endellion village after -supper, while Otho Killigrew was going to Rosecarrick to get some books -for Mistress Nancy Molesworth. I must frame some sort of reason for -absenting myself early from the supper-table.</p> - -<p>I do not think I should have accomplished this had not fortune favoured -me. Old Colman Killigrew sent word to say that he was not well enough to -sup with us, but would I come and speak with him after the meal was -over? My mind was made up.</p> - -<p>Otho was silent during supper, but the other brothers talked loudly. I -joined in their conversation, and made myself jovial. Presently Otho -left without a word of explanation to any one; and no sooner had he gone -than I told the brothers of their father's wish that I should visit him. -They laughed at me, saying I was but a child at drinking; but I had my -way. As chance would have it, no sooner had I reached the great door -than I saw Amelia walking along a passage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> towards a small doorway I had -seen through the day. A few seconds later, I stood outside the house, -while the girl walked a few yards ahead of me. She did not go along the -main road, but down a narrow pathway. When I thought we were a -sufficient distance from the house, I spoke to her. It was a risk to try -and talk with her, doubtless, but nothing could be done without risk.</p> - -<p>"Amelia—Amelia Lanteglos!" I said.</p> - -<p>She turned sharply.</p> - -<p>"No, Maaster Benet," she said, "you mustn't go wi' me. I shell screech -murder ef you do." I knew by her voice that she both feared and hated -Benet Killigrew.</p> - -<p>"I am not Benet," I said. "I am a friend."</p> - -<p>"You—you are the straanger?" she stammered.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said; "yet not such a stranger as you think."</p> - -<p>In a few minutes I had won the girl's confidence. There are several ways -of making a serving-maid pliable. One is to appeal for her help, another -to make love to her, another to bribe her, another to flatter her. I did -the last. I told her I had heard what a faithful servant she was, how -much she was trusted in the house, and what a fine-looking maid she was. -This had to be done by degrees.</p> - -<p>"You have a very responsible position, Amelia," I said at length; "and -it is well for your mistress that you love her. She needs your love, -too. What she would do without you, I do not know."</p> - -<p>"No, nor I," said the girl.</p> - -<p>"Your mistress needs friends, Amelia."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p><p>The maid began to cry bitterly.</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't stay in the plaace but for Mistress Nancy," she sobbed at -length. "I caan't tell 'ee oall, sur. There be two of 'em that do want -'er, but she do 'aate 'em oall."</p> - -<p>"And she loves young John Polperro," I said. "He's the one that ought to -marry her."</p> - -<p>"How do you know, sur?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind, I do know," I replied; "but say no word to any of them, or -it will be worse for your mistress."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't say anything for worlds, sur."</p> - -<p>"Amelia," I continued, after much talk, "I am come here to help your -mistress."</p> - -<p>"To help her, sur,—'ow?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot tell you now. In fact, I can tell only her. Could you not -arrange that I could see her?"</p> - -<p>"See Mistress Nancy Molesworth, sur?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"No, sur. She is always watched. She caan't laive her rooms without owld -maaster knowin'."</p> - -<p>"In what part of the house does she reside?"</p> - -<p>The maid told me. It was in the same wing as that in which my own -bed-chamber was situated, but the floor above. The door which opened to -it was also watched.</p> - -<p>"Are the watchers faithful?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Sam Daddo and Tom Juliff, sur. They'll do nothin' but what the owld -maaster do tell 'em."</p> - -<p>"But why is she watched so closely?"</p> - -<p>"She've tried to git away once, sur. Tha's why."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p><p>"Then she loves not the Killigrews?"</p> - -<p>"She haates 'em, sur. But I caan't tell 'ee oall."</p> - -<p>I tried to devise a means whereby I could see her, but none were -feasible. Force could not be used until flight was arranged, and that -was not done. Indeed, I had not seen the maid yet.</p> - -<p>"But," I said, "doth your mistress have no outdoor exercise."</p> - -<p>"She cannot go out except one of they Killigrews go weth 'er, and so she -doan't go at all. The last time she was out, Master Otho went wi' 'er. -She waan't go no more now."</p> - -<p>"But she will die cooped up in rooms where she hath no fresh air."</p> - -<p>"She sometimes walks on the leads at the top of the 'ouse; but that's -oall."</p> - -<p>"How does she get there?"</p> - -<p>"There's a stairs from the room."</p> - -<p>"Ah! But there must be other ways of getting to the roof."</p> - -<p>"I doan't knaw, I've only bin there a vew months. I wudden stay now but -for Mistress Nancy."</p> - -<p>"But I can trust you, Amelia?"—and then I satisfied myself that she -would be secret. "Tell her," I continued presently, "that if she values -her liberty or her honour, if she cares for John Polperro, to be on the -leads to-night at midnight. If I do not get there it will be because I -cannot."</p> - -<p>With that I left the girl, and hurried back to the house. I entered the -side door without notice, and then made up the broad stairway towards -the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> room in which I had been told old Colman Killigrew slept.</p> - -<p>"Will you tell your master that Master Roger Penryn waits to see him?" I -said to the man who paced the corridor. I gave my false name without -wincing this time, for my blood was tingling with excitement. The -thought of seeing Mistress Nancy Molesworth, together with wondering -what the outcome would be, made me eager for action.</p> - -<p>A few moments later I entered the old man's room, prepared to answer any -question he might put. He eyed me keenly as I entered, but spoke scarce -a word for several minutes. Little by little, however, he got to talking -about King George, and the feeling in the country concerning him.</p> - -<p>"You say Hugh Boscawen is busy raising an army?" he queried presently. -"Do volunteers come quickly?"</p> - -<p>"But tardily," I replied. "Cornish folks love not the thought of a -German wearing the crown and spending our money. Moreover, the Catholic -feeling is strong."</p> - -<p>"Say you so?" he queried, fixing his eyes on me. "What indications be -there?"</p> - -<p>"It is fully believed that Master John Wesley is a good Catholic and -that he is labouring in the interest of the Catholic Church, having -authority from the Pope; and everywhere he is gaining followers, -everywhere people be forsaking the parish churches."</p> - -<p>He nodded his head gravely.</p> - -<p>"It is rumoured that young Charles is planning to get to England even -now," I continued. "If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> he but leads an army, the people will, if they -have encouragement and a leader, flock to his standard."</p> - -<p>"What steps have you taken in the neighbourhood of Falmouth?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I have simply spoken with the people. I am but poor. I am the only -representative of a small branch of my family. What the cause needs is -an old and well-known name. We want a man who can place himself at the -head of five hundred good swords—one who can gain the confidence of the -country."</p> - -<p>"Can you name the man?" he asked, keeping his eyes on me.</p> - -<p>"Colman Killigrew," I replied boldly.</p> - -<p>"Is my name known so far away from here?"</p> - -<p>"Else why should I come here?" was my response.</p> - -<p>After this he asked me many questions about the Penryns, which I -answered readily, for I knew them intimately.</p> - -<p>"You heard of me; and hearing that young Charles was coming to claim his -own, you thought——"</p> - -<p>"That the hope of the country lay in you."</p> - -<p>"What force could you raise in your part of the country, if the need for -men should arise?"</p> - -<p>I answered him vaguely.</p> - -<p>"It is well you came, Roger Penryn," he said, after he had asked me many -questions. "The rumour you have heard concerning young Charles is true. -He will land in Scotland; and there is no doubt that the Highlanders -will flock to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> standard. He will then march southwards, and there is -but little doubt but he will have a great following. There will be much -opposition too, for many people comprehend not the glories of the -Catholic faith. He will need every good sword he can command; hence the -need for the faithful to be ready."</p> - -<p>I nodded my head, but spoke not, for I was already tired of playing my -part.</p> - -<p>"We will work quietly," continued old Colman Killigrew. "While Hugh -Boscawen is publicly gathering his men, you and others will have to work -in the dark. But no time must be lost. Now that we understand each -other, you must begin at once to gather the defenders of the faith and -be ready for action. Not that we would be discourteous," he added -quickly; "you must stay with me at least another day."</p> - -<p>"It is well," I replied; "you are well situated here. This should be a -stronghold in time of trouble."</p> - -<p>After this I asked him many questions about the castle, and what secret -rooms there were. I asked him, too, the means by which the roof could be -reached in order to make use of the battlements; but concerning this he -would tell me nothing. Indeed, as I afterwards reflected, he had told me -little but what was common rumour.</p> - -<p>I did not join the younger Killigrews that night. I wanted to be alone -to think, and to devise means whereby I could reach the roof at -midnight, and so talk with Mistress Nancy Molesworth. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> therefore got -back to my bed-chamber with all speed, and spent some time in musing -quietly.</p> - -<p>I examined the situation of the chamber with much care. Underneath me, -as I have said, was a courtyard, but to the left were the ruined walls -of the old castle. If I could reach them I might find means of climbing -to the top of the newer portion of the house; but it seemed impossible. -I knew that a sentinel guarded the passage, otherwise I would have made -my way up the stairway I had seen. I silently opened the door and -examined the corridor in the hope that I should see some other means of -carrying out my wishes; but the man was wide awake and watchful. All was -now quiet. Evidently the family had gone to bed. I thought once of -creeping along by the wall, and disabling the man called Sam Daddo who -stood there. But that must necessarily mean noise; besides, the time was -not ripe for such an action. I could not take away the maid Nancy -Molesworth that night, and the man's disablement must lead to many -questions on the morrow.</p> - -<p>So I crept back into my chamber again. My candle had gone out, but the -moon shone almost as bright as day. The window of my room was not large, -but I could at a pinch have squeezed my body through. It was divided -into two parts, the division being made by a granite upright.</p> - -<p>"This is a big chamber," I mused; "surely there should be another -window." Then I remembered that I had examined every crevice of the -place with the exception of the walls behind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> the big bed on which I had -slept. The window faced the east, but the head of the bed was against -the northern wall. I tried to peer behind it, but could see nothing. -Then making as little noise as possible, I lifted the thing away. Having -done this, I saw an aperture which looked as though it might have been -intended for a second window.</p> - -<p>"This is well," I thought, pleased at my discovery. "Mistress Nancy -Molesworth, I think I shall see you to-night."</p> - -<p>For by this time the spirit of adventure fairly possessed me, and, -forgetting everything save my purpose to see the maid, I pulled away the -boards which had covered the opening. This done, the light shone in, and -I soon found that, although the hinges were sadly rusted, they yielded -to pressure. A few seconds later my hair was fanned by the breezes -outside, and my eyes were eagerly measuring the distance between me and -the walls of the old castle upon which I looked.</p> - -<p>"It can be easily done," I thought, and without hesitation I put my feet -through the opening; and then, placing my arm around the granite -upright, I managed to get the whole of my body outside.</p> - -<p>A moment later I stood on the ivy-grown walls of the old castle.</p> - -<p>My heart gave a leap, for I heard the sound of a deep-toned bell. Was my -action discovered? I soon reassured myself. It was only the clock -striking twelve. I looked around me for means of ascent, and then I felt -I had undertaken a fool's task. Would the maid come on to the roof at -the bidding of a stranger? Would she listen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> to me, even if she did -come? But it was not for me to think of that. I had promised to be -there, and I would go—if I could.</p> - -<p>I carefully crept along the ivy-grown walls, eagerly looking for a means -of ascent, for I knew that if I were to see the maid I must act quickly. -Even now it was past the hour I had promised to meet her. The night was -very bright, but I could see nothing to aid me, and I began to upbraid -myself as a childish fool for promising what I could not fulfil, when I -spied an iron pipe fastened to the wall. The battlements were perhaps -twelve feet above me, and this pipe was by no means easy to reach. I -would get hold of the thing, and by means thereof would climb to the -roof.</p> - -<p>No sooner had the plan entered my mind than I prepared to execute it.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VII.</span> <span class="smaller">ON THE ROOF OF ENDELLION CASTLE.</span></h2> - -<p>As I have said, the task I had set myself was not an easy one. First of -all, I should have to leap several feet to a ledge, which was by no -means wide, and then I should have to grasp the pipe, as well as some -ivy which had climbed up by its side. If I failed to reach the ledge I -should fall, I knew not how far; or if the pipe yielded to my weight, -the same thing would happen. But I did not hesitate. My blood was hot, -and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> spirit of adventure overmastered me. Besides—and I must -confess it if I will tell my story truly—in spite of my hatred of -women, I felt a great desire to see the maid I had promised to take to -Treviscoe. I recked not of consequences—nay, I had a sort of pleasure -in dangerous deeds.</p> - -<p>So I made the leap without hesitation, although a curious feeling -possessed me as I thought of the yawning darkness underneath me. I -reached the ledge in safety, and the thing I grasped held firm. Then, -without waiting a second, I started to climb. It was weary work, for the -ivy yielded, and the crevices wherein I could stick my feet were few. -But I had often attempted this kind of thing as a boy, and before long I -placed my arm round one of the huge merlons which the ancient Killigrews -had caused to be placed there; and in a few seconds I lifted myself up -so that my head was raised some distance above the stonework. I had -scarcely done this when I heard a slight scream, which came so suddenly -that I was in danger of relaxing my hold. Instinctively divining what -this meant, however, I made a low sound suggesting silence, and before -long stood on the roof.</p> - -<p>It had been a hard climb, and I panted freely, looking round meanwhile -for the one who had screamed. At first I could see nothing but chimneys; -but presently I saw two dark forms hiding by a portion of the roof which -stood somewhat higher than the rest. I walked slowly towards them.</p> - -<p>Even now I am conscious of a strange feeling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> at heart as I remember -that night. For there in the bright moonlight appeared a spectacle which -was almost awesome. The sight of the sea and the rock-bound coast burst -suddenly upon me. Below, hundreds of feet down, the waves cast -themselves on the beach, which was studded with huge masses of rock. The -sea shone in the light of the moon, and behind the crest of every wave -was a great streak of silver lustre, fair to behold. Far out, I could -see the waves a-dancing, while here and there the lights of distant -vessels shone. Away to the right, Tintagell, perchance the mightiest -coast-rock in England, lifted its hoary head, while to the left the -bare, rugged cliffs, in spite of the soft moonbeams, looked chill and -drear.</p> - -<p>And I was there—behind the battlements of the home of the -Killigrews—alone save for the presence of two helpless women. All this -came to me quickly—I seemed to realize it in a moment; and then I shook -the feeling from me, for I remembered I had work to do.</p> - -<p>"'Tis he," I heard a voice say, which I recognized as that of Amelia -Lanteglos. And then I saw the other maid, whose face was partly hidden, -turn towards me.</p> - -<p>"Be not afraid," I said as gently as I could; for though I would have -little to do with them, I loved not to frighten women.</p> - -<p>"What would you, sir?" said a voice, low and sweet. "Amelia, my -serving-maid, hath persuaded me to come here to-night. It is against my -better judgment I have come, but——" then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> she stopped as though she -knew not how to finish what she had begun to say.</p> - -<p>I cannot deny it, I felt something like pity for the maid. Her voice was -sad and plaintive. It suggested weariness, loneliness—and no man is -unmoved by such things. I felt ashamed, too. I had promised to take her -to Treviscoe, to be the wife of Peter Trevisa; for I had little doubt -but that if those two men once got her there, they would try to frame -arguments strong enough to make her yield to their wishes. But this was -only for a moment. I reflected that women were as little to be trusted -as April weather, and would veer around like a weathercock. I remembered -my own love affair, and called to mind the words the girl Boscawen had -said to me only a few days before she threw me over for Prideaux.</p> - -<p>"I would speak to you alone for a few minutes," I said, wiping the sweat -from my forehead.</p> - -<p>"Your hand is bleeding," she said kindly; "and—and how did you get -here?"</p> - -<p>"I climbed from the old castle wall."</p> - -<p>"But it is impossible—it could not be! No one could do it!" This she -said in low, broken whispers, but like one frightened.</p> - -<p>"But I am here," I replied grimly; "and there was no other way of -getting here from my chamber. One has to risk something if you are to be -saved from the Killigrews."</p> - -<p>"What do you know of the Killigrews?" she asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>She followed me a few steps out of ear-shot of the serving-maid, still -keeping her face hidden.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p><p>"I know that you are to be the wife of Otho Killigrew, unless desperate -measures are taken," I replied. "I know, too, that Benet Killigrew -professes to love you."</p> - -<p>"How do you know?"</p> - -<p>"You are Mistress Nancy Molesworth, are you not?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and you are Master Roger Penryn, so my maid tells me. But I do not -know you."</p> - -<p>She let the shawl with which she had wrapped her head fall, and for the -first time I saw her face. She was but little more than twenty years of -age, and in the moonlight looked younger. As far as I could judge, her -hair was of chestnut hue, and it flashed brightly even in the night -light. Her face appeared very pale, and her eyes shone as though she -were much excited; but she was a very beautiful maid. She was not of the -timid, shrinking kind which some men love, but stood up before me -bravely, for the which even then I was glad. Nor was she little, and -weak; rather she was taller than most women, and shaped with much -beauty.</p> - -<p>"It matters but little whether you know me or not, if you will trust -me," I said. "Believe me, I have come to take you away from this den of -cutthroats to a place of safety."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"Where would you go?" I asked.</p> - -<p>My head was bare, and my face was plainly to be seen, so bright was the -night. I felt her eyes fastened upon me, and it seemed to me as though -she were reading my innermost thoughts. But I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> was not to be baulked by -a girl, so I tried to appear unconcerned as she gazed.</p> - -<p>"You met John Polperro at the Arundells," I continued. "He has offered -his hand to you in marriage, but your guardian refused. Last night he -came here and repeated that offer, but it was declined. He is a fine -fellow, Polperro, and spoke boldly."</p> - -<p>"I know," said she—speaking, as I thought, more to herself than to me.</p> - -<p>"After your guardian had refused his request that you might become his -wife," I went on, "he offered you a home in his father's house. He spoke -hotly, indiscreetly, but still as an honest man; that offer was also -refused. Perchance you have been informed of this?"</p> - -<p>She did not speak, nor did she make any sign whatever.</p> - -<p>"It is impossible for Polperro to help you now. If he again appears in -the neighbourhood, he will receive steel for a welcome. But I admire -him. I am always proud to call such as he my friend; so if I can take -you to his father's house, I shall be doing a good deed, and rendering a -service to one he loves."</p> - -<p>This I said in a stammering kind of way, for somehow the girl's eyes -made me feel uncomfortable. I wished she would not look at me so -steadfastly.</p> - -<p>"Know you Master John Polperro?" she asked presently.</p> - -<p>"Else why should I be here?" I responded, wishing I had adopted some -other plan of action.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> I hated this underhanded method of work, and the -maid's eyes looked truthful. I should have felt far more at ease could I -have taken her away by force than have subjected myself to this kind of -work. Still, circumstances had made force of such kind impossible. Had -the maid been allowed her liberty, I might have accomplished my purpose -differently; but being a safely guarded prisoner, I had to gain her -confidence.</p> - -<p>"And you came here by his wish? You are trying to do what he found -impossible?"</p> - -<p>I bit my lip with vexation. Why should she ask such questions. Was I not -planning to take her away from a place where she was unhappy?</p> - -<p>"It was no easy thing to get from my bed-chamber here," I replied -evasively. "A single slip, and I should either have been killed or -crippled for life. Neither is it an easy thing to deal with these -Killigrews. But for my promise to the man, I tell you I would not have -attempted it."</p> - -<p>"Your promise to whom?" she asked, and I cursed myself for being a fool. -Why could I not have boldly told the necessary lies? I had intended to. -Chance had given me the finest possible opportunity. I found no -difficulty in trying to deceive old Colman Killigrew. Why, then, should -this chit of a maid make me stammer? What could be more easy than to -tell her that I, being a stranger to the Killigrews, and a friend of -John Polperro, had come here to take her to a place of honour and -safety?</p> - -<p>"To whom should my promise be given?" I said. "I spoke to your maid that -she might tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> you of my desire to meet you. I have risked my life to -get here, and I have a difficult game to play with the Killigrews."</p> - -<p>I was angry beyond measure with myself for telling of any danger I had -encountered. Had I been acting a straightforward part, I should not have -mentioned it; but now I had a feeling that such words were necessary.</p> - -<p>"If you will consent to trust me," I went on clumsily, for I felt her -eyes upon me as I spoke, "I will arrange plans whereby I can take you -away. I could be ready by to-morrow night. It could be done without -detection. A rope could be fastened around yon battlements—it is only a -dozen feet or so to the old castle walls. From thence it is not -difficult of descent. I could get horses in readiness, and in a few -hours we could be out of danger."</p> - -<p>"And if you were discovered?" she asked abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to fight the Killigrews," I -replied grimly.</p> - -<p>I knew there was a gulf between us. She did not trust me. She doubted -every word I was saying. I wished the light were not so good, so that -she might not see my face so plainly. And yet I had her at advantage. -She loved not the Killigrews—she hated the thought of wedding Otho. -Probably I appeared as her only hope of escaping from them. I could see -the girl Amelia Lanteglos watching us closely. Doubtless she was -wondering as to the upshot of our conversation.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p><p>"Do you think I gain any advantage by coming here?" I went on like a -fool. "I never saw you until this hour. I have no spite against the -Killigrews, they never harmed me. It would not harm me if you were to -marry Otho. Possibly he would make you as good a husband as—as another. -But I—I gave a promise that I would set you free, if I could. However, -if you prefer to fly to the open arms of Otho,—well——" I shrugged my -shoulders, and tried to hum a tune as I looked across the shining sea.</p> - -<p>I know I said this brutally; but the maid angered me—angered me by the -truthfulness of her looks, and the way she made me bungle the thoughts I -had in my mind.</p> - -<p>She continued to look at me steadfastly. Perhaps she remembered that if -she accepted my offer, and if I succeeded in effecting her escape, she -would have to travel alone with a man of whom she knew nothing. -Presently she seemed to have made up her mind.</p> - -<p>"You seem to be a gentleman," she said; "you speak as if you——" she -hesitated as though she could not put her thoughts into words.</p> - -<p>I remained silent.</p> - -<p>She made a sudden movement forward, and placed her hand on my arm. "I am -alone, helpless," she said. "I am surrounded by those I cannot trust. I -hate—loathe the thought of——" again she stopped suddenly; then, -looking straight into my face, she said: "Are you what you seem to be?"</p> - -<p>It came upon me like a clap of thunder, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> like a schoolboy -discovered in theft, I hung my head.</p> - -<p>"Is your name Roger Penryn?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"No!"</p> - -<p>"Do you know John Polperro?"</p> - -<p>"No!"</p> - -<p>The words came from me like shots from a musket. I could not tell a lie -with the girl's cruel, truthful eyes upon me. They choked the falsehood -in my throat, and I felt myself to be the sport of this maid who knew -nothing of the world. I was glad I had told the truth, and yet I -reproached myself for being beaten at the first definite move in the -game I was playing. Probably the whole thing had been rendered -impossible by my madness. Trevanion was gone from me forever; but, worse -than that, I should have to confess to Peter Trevisa that I had failed -to do the thing I had promised—that I had bungled most miserably.</p> - -<p>I turned to go away. I would speak no more with her. She had been too -much for me—she, a simple maid scarcely out of her teens. I had -scarcely taken a step, however, before she stopped me.</p> - -<p>"Then you are another tool of the Killigrews," she said. "There are not -enough of them, and they must needs hire you. Not being able to work -their will with me, even although I am a prisoner, they must needs use -some other base means to accomplish their purpose." This she said -passionately, yet with fine scorn.</p> - -<p>"There you are wrong, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said warmly, for she -had wounded me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> sorely. "I am not the tool of these people. Nay, my life -is in danger while I stay here. But enough of that. You refuse to accept -my help?"</p> - -<p>"How can I accept the help of a man who comes with a lie on his lips?" -she cried;—"who comes professing a false name, and who pretends to be -the friend of a man to whom he never spoke. How can I trust a man whose -every action and every word is a lie?"</p> - -<p>"Had I been a liar," I said, "I could have deceived you easily; but -enough. There is no need that I should weary you with my presence. Some -time perhaps——"</p> - -<p>"If your name is not Roger Penryn, what is it?" she said; "and why have -you tried to raise my hopes only to deceive me?"</p> - -<p>I opened my mouth to tell her my name, but I could not utter the word. I -could not tell her I was a Trevanion, nor relate to her my purpose in -coming hither.</p> - -<p>"It is not well I should speak to you further," I said. "But I have -wrought you no harm. Neither would I if you had trusted in me. Nay, as -God is my witness,"—and this I cried out passionately, for somehow the -maid dragged the words from me,—"I would have let no harm have happened -to you!"</p> - -<p>With this I walked to the spot where I had ascended, and prepared to -descend.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" she whispered. "It will be far more difficult to go down than it -was to come up."</p> - -<p>"What of that?" I replied grimly.</p> - -<p>"Because,"—and a blush mantled her cheek,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>—"there is another road -down. Look, yonder is the stairway."</p> - -<p>"There is a sentinel."</p> - -<p>"He is a lover of my maid," she replied. "She would lead him away a few -steps out of sight while you got to your own chamber."</p> - -<p>"But I should have to pass through your apartments."</p> - -<p>"Amelia shall show you the way. I will remain here."</p> - -<p>"No," I replied, for I was angry with her. "I will not be beholden to -you in any way."</p> - -<p>For the first time she looked at me kindly, but I took no heed. I placed -my arm around the merlon, and then, grasping the gutter, lowered myself. -I had often accomplished such feats, and this fact helped me now. In a -few minutes I had reached the ledge, and a little later stood on the old -castle walls again. Arrived there, I stopped and listened; but no sound -reached me. I looked up, and saw that the maid Nancy Molesworth had -followed my descent—saw that she was watching me now. There was an -expression of wonder, of bewilderment, on her face. Doubtless she was -seeking to divine who I was, and why I should come to her. I was sure -she wanted a friend, too. But I knew not what to say—I had forfeited my -right to help her. I suppose I was foolish at the moment, however. Most -men are at times.</p> - -<p>"Good-night, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said. "Remember that I am -your friend. Perhaps some day I may be able to show it." Then I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> -squeezed myself into my bed-chamber, feeling ill pleased with myself.</p> - -<p>I pulled off my clothes, and got to bed; but I could not sleep. Two -conflicting forces were at war within me. One moment I reproached myself -as a fool for not being able to deceive a slip of a maid without -stammering. The next I found myself pitying her, and calling myself a -traitor to my name for not seeking to rescue her from the Killigrews. -Sometimes I cursed myself for being as easily moved as a boy of -twenty-one, not able to withstand the simple questions of a -convent-school girl; and again I reproached myself for yielding to Peter -Trevisa's wishes, and undertaking a work unfit for a man of honour.</p> - -<p>Presently a more serious matter presented itself to me. Should I abandon -Peter Trevisa's commission? The maid had practically rejected my offer. -Should I go back to Treviscoe and tell him that I had failed? Should I -forever carry around with me the memory of the fact that I had made a -promise to do a thing, and then at the first difficulty I had given it -up like a puling girl? I had taken his money, I had given my word that I -would do his work;—could I give it up? Even although Trevanion did not -lie at the end of the business, it were unfair and cowardly to fail in -my undertaking thus. Well, supposing I decided to make a second attempt; -suppose I decided to devise new means to take the maid away—there were -many obstacles in my road. Old Colman Killigrew expected me to depart -the next day. I had promised to take his messages to some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> Catholic -families in the south of the country, and I should have no excuse for -staying at Endellion. Once outside the house, my power to do anything -would be gone.</p> - -<p>"Let it be so," I said to myself angrily. "I will leave the whole -business in the lurch. Let old Peter do his work as best he may, and let -the maid Nancy Molesworth fight her own battles with these Killigrews. -To-morrow I will start for London, and there I will seek for work more -congenial to me. If this Charles comes to England, King George will need -good swords." But even as these thoughts passed through my mind, I was -not satisfied with them. I felt I should be playing a coward's part, and -was seeking some other way whereby to better satisfy myself, when I -heard a low knocking at the door. I did not speak, and the rapping -became louder.</p> - -<p>"Who is there?" I asked, like one awaked out of sleep.</p> - -<p>"Otho Killigrew," said a voice.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII.</span> <span class="smaller">OTHO DISCOVERS MY NAME.</span></h2> - -<p>"He hath discovered where I have been," was my first thought. "He hath -been told that I have conversed with the maid Nancy Molesworth." And I -began to think how I should answer him.</p> - -<p>I got out of bed, however; and after hastily pulling on my -small-clothes, I went to the door.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p><p>"What want you?" I asked sleepily. "Surely this is a queer time of -night to wake one out of sleep."</p> - -<p>"Let me in, and I will tell you," he replied.</p> - -<p>"It will be useless to resist," I thought, "for Otho is master here, and -I shall only arouse useless suspicion by refusing." Besides, I was -curious to know why he was desirous of seeing me; so without more ado I -opened the door. No sooner had I done so, however, than in walked not -only Otho, but Benet.</p> - -<p>For a time Otho looked at me awkwardly, like one not knowing what to -say. But Benet closed the door, and stood with his back against it, -holding a candle in his hand.</p> - -<p>"Hath Charles landed?" I asked, watching them closely.</p> - -<p>"No," replied Otho.</p> - -<p>"But something of importance hath taken place," I said; "else why this -midnight visit?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, important events have happened." He spoke curtly, like one angry.</p> - -<p>"And it hath to do with me, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"What then?"</p> - -<p>He looked at me keenly for a minute. Then he answered me slowly, -according to his usual manner of speech.</p> - -<p>"Charles hath not landed," he said. "All the same, important events have -happened with which you have to do."</p> - -<p>"And they?" I asked, noticing the grin that overspread Benet Killigrew's -face.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>"Are two in number."</p> - -<p>"Name them," I said eagerly.</p> - -<p>"First, that your name is not Roger Penryn."</p> - -<p>"Yes; what next?"</p> - -<p>He seemed surprised that I should make so little ado at his discovery, -and stared at me as though waiting for me to say some foolish thing. -Whereas the truth was, that I was relieved that the truth was to come to -light. I fretted like a horse frets when a saddle rubs him, every time I -heard the name of Penryn.</p> - -<p>"What next?" I repeated.</p> - -<p>"That you are a sneak."</p> - -<p>"Steady, steady, Otho Killigrew!" I said, for the word had not a -pleasant sound. "But we will deal with these two charges. What are your -proofs?"</p> - -<p>"There are proofs enough," replied Otho—"proofs enough. One is, that I -suspected you as you sat at my father's table last night."</p> - -<p>"I thought you were of the ferret breed," I replied; "it is a pity your -eyes are not pink."</p> - -<p>He kept his temper well. "Believing you were not what you pretended to -be, I sent a man to the place you said you came from," he went on. "He -hath returned this very night."</p> - -<p>"Well thought of," I laughed. "And you made discoveries?"</p> - -<p>"My man discovered that there was no Roger Penryn."</p> - -<p>I almost felt a pleasure in the business now. I had no qualms when -talking with men. All the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> same, I knew that I was in dangerous hands. -These Killigrews were no fools.</p> - -<p>"It seems I must have created a new member of the family," I said -pleasantly. "Well, go on."</p> - -<p>"No, there is no Roger Penryn; but there is a Roger Trevanion."</p> - -<p>"Ah!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, a fellow with a bad reputation."</p> - -<p>"Nothing like your own, I hope?" I said sneeringly, for I was ill -pleased at his discovery.</p> - -<p>"A fellow who hath wasted his patrimony."</p> - -<p>"He never betrayed women, I hope?" I responded.</p> - -<p>"This fellow left his home on a chestnut horse, the servants not knowing -whither he went. My man discovered, however, that he stayed at St. -Columb and Wadebridge. From thence he came here."</p> - -<p>"Ah, your man hath a good nose for scenting."</p> - -<p>"Yes, he traced you here, Roger Trevanion."</p> - -<p>"Well, Trevanion is a better name than Penryn—far better than -Killigrew."</p> - -<p>"It's a bad name for a sneak, a liar."</p> - -<p>"Have a care, Otho Killigrew!" I said. "You've mentioned that word twice -now."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I have," he said slowly. "I may mention it again. What then?"</p> - -<p>"Only that I shall make you swallow it."</p> - -<p>At this Benet grinned again. "Good!" he said aloud. "I like that!"</p> - -<p>"I shall say it again, and shall not swallow it."</p> - -<p>"You are two to one," I replied, "and you have your lackey outside; but -if I hear it again, there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> will be a new version of the story about the -first-born slain."</p> - -<p>He looked at his brother, and then spoke with less assurance.</p> - -<p>"I will prove it," he said slowly.</p> - -<p>"That is a different matter," I replied. "Go on."</p> - -<p>"You have been on the roof of this house to-night."</p> - -<p>I made no movement or sound indicating surprise. I had been expecting -this.</p> - -<p>"Well, what then? Am I a prisoner here?"</p> - -<p>"Why were you there?"</p> - -<p>"Only to have a talk with your prisoner," I replied. "I was curious to -see the beauteous maid who hates you."</p> - -<p>I hit him hard there, and he lost his temper.</p> - -<p>"Look'ee, Roger Trevanion," speaking quickly and angrily for the first -time, "what is the meaning of this masquerade? The Trevanions are -Protestants. Why did you come here, pretending to be a Catholic? Why did -you climb to the roof? You are a woman-hater."</p> - -<p>"Only for a wager," I laughed.</p> - -<p>"Mark this!" he cried,—"there are dungeons here as well as -battlements."</p> - -<p>"So I have heard. And it would be just like a Killigrew to throw a guest -into one of them."</p> - -<p>"Guest!" he answered with a sneer.</p> - -<p>"Yes, guest," I replied.</p> - -<p>"You have forfeited your right to that name."</p> - -<p>"Prove it. Is it an uncommon thing for a man to travel under a name -other than his own?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>"It is an uncommon thing for a guest to get out of his chamber window, -and climb to the roof of the house."</p> - -<p>"Not if a man is of a curious disposition," I laughed.</p> - -<p>So far we had been fencing, and neither had gained much advantage. But I -determined to bring matters to a close issue.</p> - -<p>"Look you, Otho Killigrew," I said, "you have come to my bedchamber two -hours past midnight. Why? You must have something in your mind other -than the things you have spoken about."</p> - -<p>"I have come to you in mercy."</p> - -<p>I shrugged my shoulders.</p> - -<p>"In mercy," he repeated. "It is true you have forfeited your right to be -considered as a guest. Nevertheless I remember that Trevanion is a good -name, and that I am a Killigrew."</p> - -<p>I waited for him to continue.</p> - -<p>"You had a purpose in coming here. What, I do not know. You have been -a—that is, you are not what you pretended to be. You have tried to win -my father's confidence, and discover his secrets."</p> - -<p>"I did not seek to know your father's secrets."</p> - -<p>"No, but you came as a Catholic. You came as one desirous of bringing a -Catholic king on the throne. My father welcomes such as his own -children. Otherwise you would not have been welcomed so warmly, nor -would you have been asked to remain while Polperro sought to degrade us -all. It is a weakness of my father to take to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> his heart all who belong -to old Catholic families, and to trust them blindly——"</p> - -<p>"I am waiting for your mercy," I said.</p> - -<p>"You have done two things while in this house," said Otho: "you have -pretended to side with my father in carrying out the great plan of his -life, and as a consequence obtained secrets from him; and you have -sought for, and obtained, an interview with my affianced wife. Either of -these actions would justify us in dealing with you in a summary fashion. -But we have decided on conditions to be merciful."</p> - -<p>"Explain."</p> - -<p>"I have discovered that you Trevanions never break a promise."</p> - -<p>"That must be strange to such as you."</p> - -<p>"If you will promise two things, we have decided to let you leave -Endellion in no worse condition than you entered it."</p> - -<p>"You are very merciful."</p> - -<p>"Seeing that you have abused our hospitality, it is."</p> - -<p>"Well, about your conditions?"</p> - -<p>"Our conditions are very easily complied with. The first is, that you -never breathe to any living soul anything which my father has divulged -in relation to the cause he loves."</p> - -<p>"That is the whole of the first?"</p> - -<p>"It is. You see I am trusting you as a Trevanion. I know that if you -make a promise you will keep it."</p> - -<p>"And the second?"</p> - -<p>"The second is different." And I saw that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> Otho Killigrew spoke not so -easily. He lost that calm self-possession which characterized him when -he spoke about the Catholic cause. The blood mounted to his cheek, and -his hand trembled.</p> - -<p>"Tell me why you climbed the roof of the house!" he cried. "Tell me what -happened there!"</p> - -<p>"I am waiting to hear the condition," was my answer.</p> - -<p>"Are you interested in Mistress Nancy Molesworth? Was that one of your -reasons for coming here?" he asked eagerly. "Is she anything to you? Did -you ever see her?"</p> - -<p>I saw that Otho Killigrew was scarcely master of himself as he spoke of -the maid I had seen that night. I remarked also that Benet had an ugly -look on his face as he listened.</p> - -<p>"I am still waiting to hear the second condition," I said, trying as -well as I could to see my way through the business, and decide what -steps to take.</p> - -<p>"It is this," cried Otho. "You promise not to interest yourself in any -way with Mistress Molesworth; that you never speak of her within one -month from this time; that you render no assistance in any way to those -who seek to baulk me in my purposes."</p> - -<p>The last sentence came out seemingly against his will. As luck would -have it, too, I turned my eyes in the direction of Benet at this time, -and noted the gleam in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"If I mistake not," I said to myself, "Benet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> loveth not Otho, and it -would take but little to make him lift his hand against his brother."</p> - -<p>"Why this second condition?" I said, more for the purpose of gaining -time than anything else. "What hath Mistress Nancy Molesworth to do with -me?"</p> - -<p>"How do you know her name is Nancy?" he asked savagely.</p> - -<p>"I heard John Polperro name it. But what hath she to do with me?"</p> - -<p>"I would not have given you this opportunity," he went on, without -heeding my question. "As soon as I knew you had climbed to the roof -where she walks, I determined that you should be kept in safety until -such time as—as——but it does not matter; Benet would not have it so. -He suggested that you should have a chance of escape."</p> - -<p>I saw that Benet looked eagerly at me as though he would speak, but by -an effort he restrained himself.</p> - -<p>"The maid is not in a convent school now," I said jibingly. "She is not -to be a nun, I suppose. And I have taken no vow that I will not speak to -a maid."</p> - -<p>"But you must not speak to her!" he cried, like one beside -himself,—"not to her."</p> - -<p>"Why, pray?"</p> - -<p>"Because," he cried, evidently forgetting the relation in which I stood -to him,—"because she is my betrothed wife! Because she belongs to -me—only! Because no one but myself must lay hands on her!"</p> - -<p>"If she be your betrothed wife, she should love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> you," I said. "And if -she loves you, perfect trust should exist between you."</p> - -<p>"But there be enemies! There be those who——" he hesitated, evidently -realizing that he had said more than he had intended. "Will you -promise?" he cried.</p> - -<p>"And if I do not?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I told you there were dungeons here as well as battlements," he said. -"If you will not give your sacred promise, you shall lie there until it -is my pleasure to set you free!"</p> - -<p>"Tell me this, Otho Killigrew," I said, after thinking a moment. "You -say you are betrothed to this maid. Does she willingly become your -wife?"</p> - -<p>"That is naught to you!"</p> - -<p>In truth it was not; and for a moment I was in sore straits what to -promise. I had no interest in the maid. She had paid me but scant -courtesy that night, and why should I care whom she wedded? Moreover, if -I refused to promise I was sure that Otho would carry out his threat. -Even were I friendly disposed towards her and John Polperro, I could do -them no good by refusing to abide by Otho Killigrew's conditions. Then I -remembered the look of loathing on the maid's face as she spoke of the -Killigrews, and instinctively I felt that such a marriage would be worse -than death to her. I am anything but a sentimental man, neither do I -give way to foolish fancy; but at that moment I saw the maid pleading -with me not to promise.</p> - -<p>"No, I will not accept your last condition," I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> said. The words escaped -me almost without the consent of my own will, for I felt I dared not -sneak out of the house in such a way. After all, I was a Trevanion, and -came of an honourable race. My fathers had fought many battles for women -in the past. Perhaps some of their spirit came to me as I spoke.</p> - -<p>"You will not!" he cried like one amazed.</p> - -<p>"No!" I cried, "I will not. Look you, I have seen that maid this very -night. If you were a man such as a woman could love, if the maid did not -loathe you, I would not have given either of you a second thought. But -even although it may not be possible for me to lift a finger on her -behalf, I will not bind myself by a promise not to help her. Why, -man,"—and my anger got the better of me,—"it were sending a maid to -hell to make her the wife of such as you!"</p> - -<p>I heard Benet Killigrew laugh. "Good!" he cried; "the fellow's a man!" -But Otho was mad with rage. He gave an angry cry, and then leaped on me; -but I threw him from me. I looked around for my sword; but before I -could reach it, the two men I had seen acting as sentinels rushed into -the room, and I was overpowered.</p> - -<p>Still I made a fair fight. Twice did I throw the men from me, and I know -that they carried bruises for many a day. But one unarmed man against -three is weary work, and at length I was dragged from the room. One -thing I could not help noticing, however: Benet took no part in the -business. He simply held the candle and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> looked on, occasionally -uttering cries of joy when I seemed to be getting the best of the -battle.</p> - -<p>When I was left alone in a room at the basement of the castle, I at -first upbraided myself because of my foolishness. I had acted the part -of a madman. And yet, on reconsidering the matter, I did not see what I -could have done other than what I did. True, my prison walls might -hinder me, but my promise did not. It might be possible to escape in -spite of the bolts of a jailer—my people had done this often; but none -had ever tried to escape from their promises. Then I thought of my -promise to Peter Trevisa. Well, I knew not at the time I undertook his -work what I knew when I lay imprisoned, or I would not have made it. -Besides, I could pay the forfeit. The bargain was honourably made. If I -failed to bring the maid to him within a certain time, I had lost -Trevanion. My debt of honour would be paid.</p> - -<p>On reflection, therefore, though I was ill pleased at being confined in -that dark cell, I felt strangely light-hearted. I was no longer acting a -lie. I should no longer skulk under the name of Penryn. I did not -believe the Killigrews would murder me, neither would they starve me. I -was not a weakling, and I could look for means of escape. If I could -succeed in gaining my freedom, I vowed I would take away the maid Nancy -Molesworth, if for no other reason than to spite the Killigrews.</p> - -<p>Presently morning came, and I was able to see more plainly where I was, -and what my prison<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> was like. The place was really a cellar, and but -little light found its way there. True, there was a window; but it was -very narrow, revealing a small aperture, the sides of which were -composed of strong masonry. Over the aperture was a heavy iron grating, -which grating was on a level with the courtyard. The window, too, was -securely guarded with heavy iron bars. The door was strongly made of -oak, and iron studded. The sight of these things made my heart heavy; -escape seemed impossible.</p> - -<p>The hours dragged heavily on, and I grew weary of waiting. But presently -I heard footsteps outside. The two knaves who had obeyed the bidding of -Otho Killigrew entered, one bearing food and the other my clothes. -Neither spoke, although the one I had known as Sam Daddo looked less -surly than the other. I remembered that he was a lover of Mistress Nancy -Molesworth's serving-maid, and tried to think how I could turn this fact -to account. They did not stay, but presently returned, bringing a small, -roughly made couch.</p> - -<p>"Evidently," I thought, "it is intended that I shall be kept a prisoner -for some time."</p> - -<p>After this I was left alone. It is needless to say that I tried to make -many plans of escape; but they all died at their birth, for each seemed -more futile than the other. I tried the strength of the window bars, and -found that they did not yield to pressure. I listened at the door in the -hope of hearing sounds whereby I might be able to more exactly locate my -prison. This also was in vain.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>At mid-day another meal was brought to me, but no word was spoken.</p> - -<p>Still I did not despair. True, I dared take no steps for escape through -the day, for footsteps were constantly crossing the courtyard outside. -But when night came I would try the window bars again. I noticed an iron -clamp on the couch which had been brought. Possibly I could use that as -an instrument whereby I could prise open the window.</p> - -<p>My spirits, I remember, kept wonderfully high, for I could not fully -realize that I was a prisoner. In truth, the whole matter seemed to me a -sort of dream out of which I should presently awake. For on analyzing my -thoughts, I saw no reason why I should be interested in Mistress Nancy -Molesworth. Indeed, I laughed at myself as a foolish dreamer for -refusing to promise not to render her any assistance should she wish to -escape Otho Killigrew. Perhaps my bargain with old Peter Trevisa and his -son had somewhat to do with it. The rest I put down to the foolish -impulse of the moment. For why should the memory of her face make me -grow angry with Otho? Were I a woman, I would rather be wedded to him -than to young Peter Trevisa. Concerning Benet's behaviour, I could come -to no definite conclusion, although I formed many conjectures. But I did -not trouble, for presently I fancied I saw a weakness in my prison, and -thought I saw a means of obtaining my freedom.</p> - -<p>My evening meal was brought by a serving-man whom I had not hitherto -seen, accompanied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> by Sam Daddo. Just as if I remained a guest, I spoke -to Daddo in a friendly fashion, and asked after the health of his -master. He spoke no word in reply, however, although I was sure I saw -him wink at me in a meaning way. I was not slow to interpret this, -especially when, a few seconds later, I saw it repeated. He remained -silent, however, in spite of my frequent questions, so I gave up -talking, continuing only to watch. This was not in vain, for as the -strange serving-man was passing out of the door, Sam, in following him, -put his right hand behind his back and revealed a piece of paper. This I -snatched at eagerly, though noiselessly, wondering what it might mean.</p> - -<p>Ere long I was able to examine it, for my gaolers locked the door, and I -listened to their footsteps as they traversed a passage, and climbed -some stone steps.</p> - -<p>Lifting my couch, and placing it against the door so that I might not be -surprised, I went to my window and unfolded the piece of paper I had -taken from Sam Daddo's hand. Only a few words were written thereon, but -enough to give me food for thought. This was what I read:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"<i>I hope I have misjudged you. Forgive me if I have. I have heard -of all that took place after you left me last night. I grieve much -that you should be a prisoner because of me; but means may be -offered for your escape. I need a friend sorely, for I am in dire -danger, and I am a weak, ignorant girl. Once at Polperro, I should -be safe. The one</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> <i>who gives you this may not help you, although he -would not willingly harm me. Unless help comes I shall be wedded to -O. in a week, and I welcome the thought of death more.</i>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>As I said, this missive gave me much food for thought. It was evidently -written by Mistress Nancy Molesworth. Little consideration was needed, -moreover, to assure me that she must be in sore straits or she would not -have sought to enlist the sympathy of a prisoner. A few hours before she -had spurned me as a liar. But I bore her no grudge for that—I had -deserved it. It was apparent Sam Daddo had told his sweetheart what had -passed between Otho Killigrew and myself. He had doubtless listened at -the door, and heard all. This, perchance, had led the maid to write me. -Yet she knew not what was in my mind, and must risk much in trusting me. -She seemed to regard my escape as a possibility, and therefore built -upon it. I must confess, too, that her helplessness appealed to me, and -a feeling of joy surged in my heart at the thought of striking a blow -for her liberty.</p> - -<p>But what could I do? Concerning this, I thought long and carefully, but -could fix my mind on no definite plan save to wrench the iron clamp from -my couch, and apply it to what I thought a weak spot in my window. The -result of this was doubtful, and could not be attempted until late at -night when the family had gone to bed. I therefore waited several hours, -and then, after listening carefully, I commenced my work.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p><p>A minute later I stopped suddenly, for I heard footsteps outside. Then -the door opened, and Benet Killigrew entered.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IX.</span> <span class="smaller">BENET KILLIGREW AS A WRESTLER.</span></h2> - -<p>On entering my prison, he closed the door and locked it. Then, putting -the key in his pocket, he placed the candle he had brought on a shelf, -and faced me.</p> - -<p>"I like you, Roger Trevanion," he said. "You are a man after my own -heart."</p> - -<p>I shrugged my shoulders, showing no surprise at his presence, but -wondering what was in his mind. "Why?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Because you are a man. It did my soul good to see you beard Otho, and -struggle with those fellows. By my faith, I fair itched to help you!"</p> - -<p>I could see he had something in his mind. If I kept my head cool, and my -ears open, I might discover something of importance. I remembered, too, -the look he had given his brother as he spoke of his feelings towards -Mistress Nancy Molesworth, and drew my conclusions accordingly.</p> - -<p>"But you struck no blow," I said.</p> - -<p>"That would have been fool's work. I dared not go against my own brother -before the servants. Indeed, ill as I would have liked it, had you -proved too much for them, I should have lent them a helping hand."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>I was silent, wondering what he was driving at.</p> - -<p>"I had this meeting in my mind," he continued. "I determined to come and -see you when Otho was safe asleep."</p> - -<p>"You are afraid of Otho," I said, drawing a bow at a venture.</p> - -<p>"Who would not be?" he cried savagely. "Otho is as cunning as the devil. -He should have been a priest. He hath all the learning of the family, -and can wriggle his way like an adder. Oh, I speak plainly now! I -gloried to hear you give him word for word. Even I dare not do so."</p> - -<p>I had been summing up the nature of the man as he spoke, and thought I -saw whereby I could make him unloose his tongue more freely still.</p> - -<p>"I can see he is master here," I said. "All you have to obey every -movement of his finger. You seem like children in his hands, or like -dogs who have to fetch and carry at his bidding."</p> - -<p>"He hath won the confidence of my father," he cried harshly, "and so it -is 'Otho this,' and 'Otho that.'"</p> - -<p>"While Benet, who is twice as big a man, and twice as handsome, is -nobody," I said. "It is Otho who will get Endellion, Otho who will marry -Mistress Nancy Molesworth and get Restormel,"—and I laughed in a -sneering kind of way.</p> - -<p>"No,—by the mass, no, if you will help me!"</p> - -<p>"I help you!"—this I said in a tone of surprise. All the same, I -expected something of this sort.</p> - -<p>"I could see you pitied the maid," he went on. "I could see that a man -of inches like you thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> it was a shame for a maid such as she to be -wedded to such a shambling creature as he."</p> - -<p>"She should have a man like you," I suggested.</p> - -<p>"Ah, you see it!" he cried. "I thought so last night. I said, Here is a -man who knows a man!"—and he drew himself up with a sort of mountebank -bravado.</p> - -<p>"But I am kept out of it," he continued. "She is not allowed to think of -me. She is not allowed even to see me. I must not speak to her. It's all -Otho, Otho. He must have Endellion, he must have Restormel, and he must -have the maid, too."</p> - -<p>"And he seems to love her."</p> - -<p>"Love her! With the cunning love of a priest. But it is not the love of -a man such as I. If she could see me, talk with me, all would be -different!"</p> - -<p>"You think she would love you?"</p> - -<p>"Maidens have not been wont to say me nay," he said, strutting around as -vainly as a peacock.</p> - -<p>"But what hath all this to do with me?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes!" he cried; "I had forgotten. Otho hath embittered my father -against you. He hath warned all the servants against you. You are to be -kept here until Otho is wedded to Nancy."</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot say yet. But if Otho hath his will it will go ill with you. -But I have brains and power as well as Otho. I marked you last night, -and I know that you, too, love the sight of a man."</p> - -<p>I could not help smiling at the fellow's vanity. But I said nothing.</p> - -<p>"You refused Otho's conditions last night, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> you are here because of -it. Look you, I will get you out of this if you like."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Otho hath not everything his own way. I have friends as well as he. -If you will help me, you shall be free. Is it to be a bargain?"</p> - -<p>"How help you?"</p> - -<p>"Otho hath ceased to suspect me. He thinks I have given up all thoughts -of wedding Nancy, seeing that my father hath willed that he shall wed -her."</p> - -<p>I waited in silence.</p> - -<p>"A priest is coming here from Padstow shortly," he went on. "It is -intended that Otho and Nancy shall be wedded before he leaves. If you -will help me, we will baulk him. I will take her away. I know a parson -near Bodmin, and he will wed her to me."</p> - -<p>"Whether the maid wills or no?"</p> - -<p>"She will be glad enough to wed me, I'll lay to that,"—and again he -strutted around the room.</p> - -<p>"And how will you do this?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Nay, I will not tell you until I get your promise. Give me your word, -Roger Trevanion, and I will tell you how you shall get out of this hole; -also my plans for taking away the maid Nancy from the marriage altar."</p> - -<p>In truth, I felt less inclined to give my promise to Benet than to Otho; -but I had become more cautious.</p> - -<p>"But why need you my help?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Because,"—he unlocked the door and listened carefully before replying; -then, after locking it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> again, came back to me, and continued: "Because -Otho hath bewitched almost everybody, and because I need such a man as -you to carry out my plans."</p> - -<p>"But at least you can tell me what you wish me to do?"</p> - -<p>"I want you to help me to take her from here, and carry her to Bodmin. -After that, I care not."</p> - -<p>"But there will be danger," I said. "I must know something more about -the matter before I give you my word."</p> - -<p>"Nay, I will tell you no more!" he cried angrily.</p> - -<p>"And if I refuse?"</p> - -<p>He gave no answer, but looked black. Whereupon I bethought me of the -usual plan of those who are undecided.</p> - -<p>"I must have time to think," I said; "this request of yours hath come -upon me suddenly. Come to me to-morrow night at this time and I will -give you my answer."</p> - -<p>"And in the mean time you are a gentleman?" he queried.</p> - -<p>"I am a prisoner."</p> - -<p>"But you will not speak to the serving-men about what hath been spoken -in confidence?"</p> - -<p>"There is surely no need to ask me such a question," I said.</p> - -<p>He looked at me keenly.</p> - -<p>"It is well, Roger Trevanion," he said. "I shall look on you as my ally -and prepare accordingly. I can trust you, for you are a man, and love -men. By the mass, they shall all know that Benet is more than a match -for Otho! Good-night, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>Trevanion. I am ill pleased that you should have -to spend another night in this hole, but it may not be helped. I will -have my plans ready by to-morrow night,—and then——"</p> - -<p>He strutted towards the door as he spoke, taking the key from his pocket -meanwhile.</p> - -<p>My heart gave a great leap, for a daring plan came into my mind. I had -no time to consider its value, for it required instant action. I -determined to put it to the test without delay.</p> - -<p>"Wait a moment, Killigrew," I said. "There is just another matter before -you go."</p> - -<p>He turned around willingly. I could see he was in no haste to depart.</p> - -<p>"You are sure our conversation hath not been heard?" I said, looking at -him steadily.</p> - -<p>"Do you think I am a fool?" he said vainly. "I went to the door to see -that Otho had not ferreted us out. As for the guard, I told him to keep -away until I came back."</p> - -<p>My heart seemed to be in my mouth, for this fell in exactly with the -plan that had been so suddenly born in my mind.</p> - -<p>"It is well," I replied. Then I waited a second, measuring Benet with my -eye. "You have told me that I am a man after your own heart," I -continued presently. "You said you could trust me because I could fight. -But it seems I must take you on trust. It is ill undertaking a difficult -and dangerous piece of work with a man who may be able to do nothing but -talk."</p> - -<p>His eyes burnt red, a fierce expression flashed across his face.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>"Do you say that to me—Benet Killigrew?" he said in tones of angry -wonder.</p> - -<p>"Yes, to you," I replied, still keeping my eyes steadily upon him. I saw -the vexation pass away, and in its place came a look of wild joy.</p> - -<p>"You want to know if I can fight—whether I have courage?" he cried -eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" I cried in the same tone.</p> - -<p>"There is one way you can know," he continued. "Try now, will you?"</p> - -<p>He had swallowed my bait without a doubt. He had not even guessed the -thought in my mind. In his joy at the thought of battle he had snatched -as eagerly at my suggestion as a hungry dog snatches at a bone.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it will be well," I replied. "You want me to help you in a -dangerous business. You may fail me at a dangerous pinch, for aught I -know. You might show the white feather."</p> - -<p>"Benet Killigrew fail to fight!" he cried in wonder. "Why, let me fetch -swords, man. By the mass, I have been longing for months to find a man -worthy of being called a man!"</p> - -<p>"We cannot fight with swords," I said. "Even here we should arouse the -house. The sound of steel reacheth far."</p> - -<p>"With fists, then!" he cried.</p> - -<p>"Let's try a hitch first; after that we can use fists!"</p> - -<p>He grasped my hand with a cry of joy. "I said you were a man after my -own heart," he said eagerly. "I love a fight beyond all things. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> have -been longing for one,—ay, longing! But there hath been no man who would -dare stand before me. I am afraid it will go hard with you, for I can -barely govern myself when my blood is up. But I will not hurt you too -much, for I love you, Trevanion. I love any man who will dare fight with -Benet Killigrew!"</p> - -<p>So far I had got my way. In spite of his boasting, I did not wonder at -his brother being able to manage him easily. In the business of scheming -he would be but a child to Otho. And still I was doubtful. He was as -big, if not a bigger, man than myself. Doubtless he knew every trick of -a wrestler and a fighter. I took note of his great thews and sinews. He -carried himself with ease, and his step was springy. Still, I did not -see any other means of carrying out my purposes; for although I had -determined to try and escape through the window, I had very little hopes -of succeeding. I therefore took off my shoes, and threw them into the -corner of the room; then I divested myself of my coat. Benet growled -like a dog enjoying a bone as he followed my example.</p> - -<p>"I wish we had wrestling shirts," he said with a laugh, and his eyes -gleamed with fierce joy. "Had I known, I would have prepared for this."</p> - -<p>I did not speak, but held out my hand for him to shake. He gripped me -hard, and gave a grunt of satisfaction.</p> - -<p>"A man's hand!" he said.</p> - -<p>I placed my right hand across his shoulders, and caught him firmly; and -when I had done this I felt more doubtful than ever as to the result. -Benet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> Killigrew had not boasted of his strength in vain. The fellow was -a giant. I felt his great chest heave. If ever a man felt the joy of -battle, it was he. I am sure he forgot everything of his plans, and of -our relations to each other, in the gladness of the moment. I knew, too, -the moment he placed his hands upon me that he was a wrestler. He heeded -not the fact that the floor on which we stood was of stone, barely -covered with a thin layer of barley straw.</p> - -<p>He felt my body carefully, but giving away no chance thereby. He seemed -to gloat over the opportunity of testing his own muscles.</p> - -<p>"A man's chest!" he grunted. "By heaven, I love you, Trevanion!"</p> - -<p>Then I saw that he was trying for the "loin throw," and prepared myself -for his advances. Thus it was when he thought to accomplish his purpose -I was ready for him, and for a moment held him at advantage.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" he cried, "better and better!"</p> - -<p>But I knew that every power I possessed would have to be used, for by -this time the fierce longing for mastery had come over him. Never did I -feel so glad as at that moment that I had been true to the traditions of -my race and county. For the Trevanions, although the sport had during -the last few years been kept alive by the common people, had always been -noted as wrestlers, and that in the county which, man to man, could -challenge Europe.</p> - -<p>While I had the advantage, therefore, I gripped him for a hug. Had he -been a weaker man his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> ribs would have cracked like matches, indeed, had -he been able to hold me so, I doubt whether the struggle would have -continued a minute longer. But he had caught a deep breath, and I might -as well have sought to crush a tree as Benet Killigrew. So I gave up the -hug and he laughed like a boy.</p> - -<p>"A good try!" he grunted, and then he tested me sorely. My sinews seemed -likely to crack, so great was the strain that he put upon them, while -the sweat came out over my forehead, and rolled down my face. However I -held my ground, and when at length he failed in the cross hitch, I began -to have more confidence. Especially did I hope for victory as I heard -him mutter savagely, "By Cormoran, he's my match!"</p> - -<p>So then I determined to be careful. I hoped that he had lessened his -power of endurance by the wine-drinking, wild life he had lived. I -therefore acted on the defensive until I should be able to try the throw -I had often practised. Presently I thought his grip less mighty, but I -was not sure, for never in my life had I been held by such a man. Had he -been less confident of victory, he would perchance have been a better -wrestler, but he did not seem to think that even his muscles must -presently give way. So it came about that while he tried a dozen tricks, -and put forth much strength in so doing, I used what power I had more -warily. At length I thought I saw my chance, and so I prepared for what -wrestlers call "the flying mare." In getting the grip necessary for this -throw, I had to face the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> danger of placing myself in his power. -However, I ventured to do this, for by no other way could I throw him. -He saw my move immediately, and took advantage of it, and for a minute I -was afraid that all was over with me. Never in my life had I struggled -so hard. I saw balls of fire flash before my eyes, while my sinews -seemed likely to snap at any moment. His grip grew weaker, however, in -spite of his frantic struggles. I heard him panting like a mad dog, for -I believe he then realised for the first time that I should master him. -Then with all the strength of shoulders, back, and loins I used the -trick I had intended, and Benet Killigrew, giant though he was, went -flying across the room, his head striking the floor with a terrible -thud.</p> - -<p>For a moment I was afraid I had killed him, but only for a moment; I had -seen such throws before, and knew the result. He would lie stunned for a -few minutes, and then when he came to consciousness he would be dazed -for the next half-hour. This was what I hoped for, and for which I had -been struggling.</p> - -<p>After wiping the sweat from my brow, I seized Benet's jacket and put it -on. As luck would have it, the garment fitted me well. Then I took my -money from my pockets. Otho had left me this, for which, as you may be -sure, I felt thankful.</p> - -<p>After this I cast my eyes around me again, for I remembered that Benet -had worn his hat when he came to see me. This I put on; so being about -his height, and wearing his hat and coat, I fancied I should be able, -except in bright light,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> to pass myself for him. My sword I gave up hope -of getting; but my pistols were in my saddle-bags.</p> - -<p>Giving Killigrew a last look, and noting that he was still breathing, I -unlocked the door, and in a few seconds later was in the passage -outside. The candle which I took with me, although it burnt low, showed -me where to go. I therefore groped along the dark pathway, and climbed -the steps which led to the entrance hall. Here I saw a man leaning -against the wall. I had extinguished my light, and as the hall was dimly -lighted the fellow could not see me plainly.</p> - -<p>"All right, Maester Benet?" asked the man sleepily.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I answered in a whisper, motioning him to be silent. Evidently -Benet's actions were not of an orderly nature, for he seemed to take but -little notice when I made my way towards the side door, out of which I -had gone when I followed Amelia Lanteglos.</p> - -<p>Arrived there, however, I was likely to be found out, for the man came -after me.</p> - -<p>"The kay, Maaster Benet; I shall want the kay if you be goin' out!"</p> - -<p>I flung it to him, therefore, and before the fellow came near me was -outside the walls of the house. Overjoyed at my success, I drew a deep -breath, but I dared not linger. In a few minutes Benet would probably -return to consciousness, and would hammer at the prison door which I had -locked. I therefore found my way to the courtyard, hoping to reach the -stables without <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>accident, for I determined not to leave Chestnut behind -me. I had barely crossed the yard when I saw a man. Evidently old Colman -Killigrew was afraid of his neighbours, else he would not have his house -guarded so carefully.</p> - -<p>"Who's that?" asked the man. "Es et Maaster Benet?"</p> - -<p>Mimicking Benet's voice as well as I was able, I bade him saddle the -stranger's horse.</p> - -<p>"What stranger?" asked the man.</p> - -<p>"He who came two nights ago," I replied, "I want to ride the beggar."</p> - -<p>The man gave a laugh, and went to the stables without a word.</p> - -<p>"Put on his own saddle," I said, blessing Benet for having led his -serving-men to obey his strange whims without questioning.</p> - -<p>The man put a lighted candle in a lanthorn, and began to saddle -Chestnut, but in this he found a difficulty. The horse had not been in -the habit of obeying any other voice than mine. He snapped at the fellow -so viciously, that he left the stall.</p> - -<p>"He's a oogly beggar, Maaster. I can't saddle un. He's a booty to look -top, but I wudden ride un ef I wos you. I spoase you've locked up the -gen'l'man, ain't ee?"</p> - -<p>"Stand still, Chestnut," I said in my own voice. The horse recognized -me, and gave a joyful whinney.</p> - -<p>Instantly the fellow suspected me. He saw that I was not his master, and -moved towards the door. I was sorry to do it, but it could not be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> -helped. I struck him a heavy blow and he fell heavily on the ground.</p> - -<p>"If you move or make a noise you are a dead man," I said.</p> - -<p>"My Gor!" muttered the fellow, "tes the gen'leman hisself."</p> - -<p>In a few seconds I saddled Chestnut; then I determined to use him -further.</p> - -<p>"Come with me," I said.</p> - -<p>"Where, sur?" he asked tremblingly.</p> - -<p>"Show me the nearest way to the high-road," I said. "If you deceive me, -I'll kill you. I want to avoid the lodge gates too."</p> - -<p>He obeyed me without a word. A few minutes later I was on a cart-track -which led in the direction of Endellion village.</p> - -<p>"Laive me go back, sur," pleaded the man. "I waan't tell nothin', and -they may vind out that I've left the courtyard. Hark, they have vound -out!"</p> - -<p>I heard men shouting as he spoke.</p> - -<p>"Laive me go back, sur," he continued to plead; "this trail do laid to -the high-road, you caan't go wrong."</p> - -<p>I let him go, for he could be of no further use to me; then I gave -Chestnut rein, and a few minutes later was safe on the high-road.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER X.</span> <span class="smaller">THE ESCAPE FROM ENDELLION.</span></h2> - -<p>All the events which I have just described happened so suddenly that I -had been able to think of nothing beyond obtaining my liberty. On -reaching the high-road, however, I began to cast about for my course of -procedure. Knowing that I should probably be followed, I had to decide -quickly, but although I racked my wits sorely, I could settle upon -nothing that pleased me. For, foolish as it may seem, no sooner was I -away from Endellion, than I wanted to be back again, and now that it -seemed impossible for me to keep my bargain with Peter Trevisa, I felt -more than ever determined to take the maid Nancy Molesworth to -Treviscoe. I found myself constantly pitying her too, and wondering how -she would fare among the Killigrews. My first determination to ride -towards London I abandoned, and so I rode on dejectedly until I -bethought me of a sentence which Benet Killigrew had let drop about a -priest coming from Padstow who was to wed Mistress Nancy to Otho. This -decided me, and without more ado I touched Chestnut's side with my -heels, and rode towards St. Enedock, from which I had heard I should be -able to get a ferry-boat to take me across the Camel River to Padstow. -Although the road was none of the best, I reached St. Enedock in a -little more than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> an hour; and then I began to look about me to obtain -the ferry-boat.</p> - -<p>Did I not believe I was hardly pressed for time, I should have stayed at -this village for some time, for it was talked about throughout the -county. It had been averred that the whole place was often covered with -sand, while the church was so much buried that the people often had a -difficulty in entering. Indeed report had it that the vicar only -conducted a service therein once a year so as to be able to claim his -tithes, and in order to do this he had to climb in at one of the -windows.</p> - -<p>Although it was but two hours past midnight I succeeded in waking the -ferryman, who lived in a hut close by the river, and after some argument -succeeded in persuading him to take me across. Long before we had -reached the little landing-place at Padstow, I found that he was -somewhat of a character, and possessed strong religious views.</p> - -<p>"I can see you are a staunch Protestant," I said after a good deal of -talking on his part.</p> - -<p>"Down with Popery I do zay, sur," was his response.</p> - -<p>"And yet one of your great families are Papists."</p> - -<p>"You do main the Rosecarricks."</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Who then; the Killigrews?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"They belong to th' ould Sur Nick, and the young Killigrews be sons of -hell," he cried with energy.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"Supposing one of them were to come enquiring of you whether I came -across here?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He looked at me keenly.</p> - -<p>"Be you a Protestant?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Sound," I replied.</p> - -<p>"And p'r'aps you doan't want me to know who you be?" he queried slyly.</p> - -<p>"You are a clever man," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Then they shaan't know," he said with a grin, "onnly you must know, -sur, I allays charge double in sich cases."</p> - -<p>I laughed, and promised him this, feeling myself in fortune's way.</p> - -<p>"Any time, sur, night or day, I'm yer sarvent," he cried when I had paid -him his money. "My brother do work the ferry from this side, sur, and -'ee's ov the saame opinions as I be. I'll spaik to un, sur. I'll tell un -'bout ee. You can allays depend on we, sur."</p> - -<p>I found Padstow to be an ugly little fishing village, while the inn to -which I went provided but poor accommodation, even after I had spent a -good half-hour in arousing the landlord. However Chestnut was well -stabled and foddered, so I minded but little, especially as I found the -innkeeper willing to talk.</p> - -<p>I was not long in discovering that only one Papist priest lived at -Padstow, and that very few of the people were of his persuasion. Indeed, -although the priest lodged with a Papist family in the town, he spent -much of his time in visiting the few Catholic families in the -neighbourhood. He went often to the Arundells at Lanherne, to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> -Rosecarricks, and to the Killigrews at Endellion.</p> - -<p>"Do the people hate him?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"That they doan't," replied the innkeeper; "he's the jolliest ould chap -you ever zeed. I tell 'ee, sur, ef oal the priests 'ad a-bin like he, I -doan't b'leeve we Cornish people wud 'ave changed our religion years -agone."</p> - -<p>After learning all I could from him, I went to bed, determined to find -the priest next day, and discover his relations with the Killigrews. -Although I little expected it, I fell asleep almost immediately, nor did -I wake until late the following morning, when the landlord came to my -door asking "whether I would 'ave a scrowled salt pilchard, 'am rasher, -or conger pie for my breakfast."</p> - -<p>As soon as I could I started out to find the priest, but on going to the -house at which he stayed I found that he would not be home until night. -He had gone to Lanherne the previous day, on urgent business, but had -bade the woman prepare for his coming about nine o'clock. This gave me -time to look about me, and prepare for his coming.</p> - -<p>Much as I disliked appearing in a disguise, I saw that I should defeat -my own purposes if I presented myself to the priest as Roger Trevanion. -I therefore bought a suit of homely garments but such as a gentleman -might wear on holiday occasions. I was also able to purchase a good -sword, which done I felt myself ready to meet the priest. It was -therefore with much impatience that I waited until nine o'clock, the -hour when he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> was supposed to arrive; then remembering that probably he -would want food after his journey I decided to put off my visit until -half an hour later. For it is well known that a man is more inclined to -be trustful and friendly after a meal than before. It was turned -half-past nine, therefore, before I presented myself at his lodgings. I -was immediately shown into the room in which he sat.</p> - -<p>"What want you of me, my son?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I wish to know when you could perform the marriage rite, father," I -asked, noting the friendly and unsuspicious way with which his eyes -rested on me.</p> - -<p>"Ha," he said kindly, "then you are one of the few faithful ones yet to -be found in the country. You look on marriage as a sacrament, and not a -mere legal business like the heretics of these parts."</p> - -<p>"I trust so, father. When could you wed us?"</p> - -<p>"Is the maid here in Padstow?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Nay," I replied. "She is at present with heretics, but she is of the -true faith."</p> - -<p>"What is her name, my son?"</p> - -<p>Then I told him a tale I had been weaving through the day, and which was -so plausible that he did not appear to doubt it.</p> - -<p>"I could wed you to-morrow," he said at length, for it will be -remembered that this took place in 1745, eight years before the famous -law passed by Lord Hardwicke, through whose influence it was decreed -that banns of marriage must be publicly announced in the parish church -in order for the ceremony to be legal.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p><p>"I do not think I could bring her here to-morrow," I said cautiously.</p> - -<p>"Then I am afraid you will have to wait a few days, my son," he replied.</p> - -<p>"Why father?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Because to-morrow night I go to the Killigrews at Endellion, and shall -stay there three or four days."</p> - -<p>"You know when you will return from Endellion, I suppose?" I asked -quietly.</p> - -<p>"I shall stay no longer than four days," was his reply; "at the end of -that time I must return."</p> - -<p>"So if I came to you after that time, all would be well?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; but speak not of it, my son, we of the true faith are sorely -harried in this country. Cornish people love not the Stuarts, although -in some countries their return is longed for. Until the right time -comes, we must be cautious."</p> - -<p>I knew all I desired now, and should be able to act accordingly. My -journey had not been in vain, and before long I left him, my head all -a-whirl with many thoughts. I waited not an hour longer at Padstow, and -not wishing to cross the river again by means of the ferry, I determined -to ride to Wadebridge, and from thence make my way to the village of St. -Kew, where I could leave Chestnut, and then go afoot to Endellion, which -was only two miles away.</p> - -<p>This I did, passing through Wadebridge without any one noticing me, and -arriving at St. Kew about five o'clock in the morning. After breakfast I -walked to Endellion and looked carefully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> around me, for I was again in -the Killigrews' country. There were but a few houses in the village, and -I could easily discover what I wanted to know, if I cared to ask of the -cottagers; but this I would not do, for it is well known that people -with little to interest them talk much about what any stranger may say. -I therefore waited until after eight o'clock, and then to my delight I -saw Jennifer Lanteglos leave one of the cottages, and make her way -towards the fields near. This was what I desired; so, unseen by her and -by the cottagers, I followed. When she had passed through two fields I -overtook her and spoke kindly.</p> - -<p>"Whither away, Jennifer my fine maid?" I asked.</p> - -<p>She gave a start. "Plaise, sur, I be going to teel taetis" (till -potatoes), she replied like one in fear.</p> - -<p>"You remember me, Jennifer?" I queried, for the girl seemed too -frightened to lift her eyes to mine.</p> - -<p>"Oa iss, sur. I've 'eerd 'bout 'ee. Do 'ee be careful, sur, do 'ee."</p> - -<p>"Hath Amelia been home lately?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Aw iss, laast night, sur."</p> - -<p>"Did she tell you aught?"</p> - -<p>"Iss, sur. She towld me 'bout you, sur."</p> - -<p>"And what thought she about me?"</p> - -<p>"She 'ardly knawed what to think, sur, 'cept that you be a braave strong -gentleman."</p> - -<p>"And did she tell you what her mistress thought about me?"</p> - -<p>The girl shook her head.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>"Look you, Jennifer, I want to see your sister to-night."</p> - -<p>"Doan't 'ee try to, sur. They be purtly maazed weth 'ee up at the 'ouse. -They 'll kill 'ee, sur. Doan't 'ee go nist (near) 'em, sur."</p> - -<p>I saw she was in earnest, and that she was anxious for my welfare.</p> - -<p>"Jennifer," I said, "your sister loves her young mistress, doesn't she?"</p> - -<p>"Oa iss, sur, that she doth."</p> - -<p>"And she wants a friend right badly?"</p> - -<p>"Oa iss, sur, I musn't say nothin', but she do, sur."</p> - -<p>"Then look here, Jennifer, you must go to Endellion this day and see -your sister. You must tell her to come here this night."</p> - -<p>At first the maid was much frightened, but I succeeded in persuading her -at length. I also told her what she must say, and how she must carry out -my plans.</p> - -<p>"Your sister must be here at nine o'clock this night," I said, "here by -this stile. You must go up to the house at once, and tell her to find -out all she can through the day. Tell her I would befriend her young -mistress. You must not plant any potatoes to-day, Jennifer. Here is a -crown piece for your trouble."</p> - -<p>This done, I went back to St. Kew. I felt at ease in my mind that -Jennifer would fullfil my mission, and I hoped that Nancy Molesworth -would not hesitate to fall in with the plans I had conceived. I remained -at St. Kew all the day, not stirring outside the inn, until it was time -for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> me to go to meet Amelia Lanteglos. When I arrived at the stile, no -one was to be seen, and I feared much that the maid had failed me, but I -had not waited long before I saw two women coming towards me. These -proved to be Mistress Nancy Molesworth's serving-maid and her sister -Jennifer. So far all was well.</p> - -<p>At first Amelia Lanteglos was chary of speech, but at length she spoke -freely, and told me all that had happened at the house. Sam Daddo had -told her that the Killigrews were searching for me, and that should they -find me it would go ill with me.</p> - -<p>"And Benet Killigrew?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Ee es more maazed than anybody, sur. Ee do zay as ow 'ee went down -where you wos put, to zee that you wos saafe, and that you took 'im -unawares like. Ee do vow 'ee'll kill 'ee, sur, for you ded strick an -unfair blaw."</p> - -<p>"And your mistress?" I asked presently, after the maid had talked about -Benet's passion; "What of her, Amelia?"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid she'll go luny, sur. She do 'aate the thot of marryin' -Maaster Otho, and she do zay a priest es comin' to-morra to marry 'er to -'im."</p> - -<p>"And does she trust me, Amelia?"</p> - -<p>"I dunnaw, sur. I believe she do sometimes. She wud be glad to do -anything to git away from they Killigrews."</p> - -<p>"Would she be willing to take a bold step to get away from Endellion -Castle?" I asked her.</p> - -<p>"She caan't, sur. She's watched night and day."</p> - -<p>"But if means were offered?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p><p>"Aw, sur, she wud git away ef she could."</p> - -<p>After this I did my best to test the maid's loyalty and devotion to her -mistress, for I was risking everything upon the plan I had formed, and -did not want to be hasty.</p> - -<p>"Amelia," I said presently, "I want you to tell your mistress that I -desire to be her friend. I would take her from yon den, and on my oath -as a gentleman I seek to free her from the Killigrews. Tell her also -that if she will be willing to obey me I will effect her escape."</p> - -<p>"How, sur?" asked the maid, who trembled violently.</p> - -<p>"Benet Killigrew wants her," I said.</p> - -<p>"He did, sur, but I believe 'ee's gived up the thot now; besides my -mistress do 'aate Maaster Benet as much as the other."</p> - -<p>"That may be, but you must deceive him."</p> - -<p>"Ow, sir?"</p> - -<p>"In this way. Benet Killigrew has been planning to carry your mistress -away. That was the reason he came down to me in that cell where I was -imprisoned at Endellion. He wanted me to help him, and offered me my -liberty on condition that I would help to carry out his plans. His -design is to take her to a priest near Bodmin. Well, I want you to tell -your mistress that she must consent to this, and you must convey the -news to Benet. Do you understand?"</p> - -<p>"But she wudden't, sur, she wudden't!"</p> - -<p>"Tell her that she must arrange for Benet to get horses and be ready to -take her away to-morrow night."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p><p>"But, sur, the priest es comin' to marry 'er to Maaster Otho to-morra -night. Besides she'd ruther die than go away aloan with Maaster Benet."</p> - -<p>"Then Benet must also get a horse for you, and you must accompany your -mistress. You must ride through Endellion village, and when you get to -the four cross-roads on the other side, I shall meet you—do you see?"</p> - -<p>"But what good'll that be?"</p> - -<p>"You must see to it, that only Benet come with you, and then I shall -stop you and take your mistress away from him."</p> - -<p>"But you cudden, sur; he's a terable fighter, and wud kill 'ee."</p> - -<p>"Who came off best when we fought the other night? I tell you, you need -not fear."</p> - -<p>Slowly the girl grasped my meaning, and, after many protestations, she -agreed to carry my message to her mistress.</p> - -<p>"You are sure that the Killigrews intend marrying her to Otho to-morrow -night?"</p> - -<p>"Aw, iss, sur."</p> - -<p>"Well go back now, and tell your mistress what I have said to you. Then -to-morrow morning Jennifer must go to you, and you must tell her if she -hath consented to my plans. Mind, if you betray me, or if you fail, you -will have sent your mistress to a place worse than hell."</p> - -<p>The maid protested much, and I had to content myself with walking back -to St. Kew with her assurance that she would do her utmost. In spite of -my excitement my heart was heavy with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>misgivings, for the more I -considered what I had done, the more did difficulties present -themselves. How could the maid Nancy be expected to trust me? Only once -had I seen her, and then she had torn my lying disguise from me in a -minute. I had left her convicted of deceit. Was it likely then that she -should undertake to obey my behests? Might not my protection seem worse -than that of Benet Killigrew? Would she not rather become the wife of -Otho than trust to me?</p> - -<p>These and a thousand other disquieting thoughts filled my mind as I -walked back to the inn. And yet I had had hopes. If the maid hated the -Killigrews so much, would she not risk anything to escape them? Had she -not written me a letter, and therein told me that she would trust me? -But if she did, could I carry out my plans? Supposing she trusted to -Benet, and he brought her to the four cross-ways, could I take her from -him? I had beaten him at wrestling, but was I a better swordsman?</p> - -<p>Then I laughed at my own anxiety, and wondered why I cared so much. Why -should I trouble? I tried to analyze my own thoughts. Should I take her -to Peter Trevisa's if I succeeded in mastering Benet? That were poor -return for the maid's trust; nay, it would stamp me as a base trickster. -And yet had I not promised Trevisa? Was I not day by day spending his -money? Again and again I felt like giving up the whole business; but -when I encouraged such a thought the remembrance of Nancy Molesworth's -face would come to me, and I saw her just as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> when she laid her hand on -my arm on the roof of the house, and said: "I am alone, helpless. I am -surrounded by those I cannot trust. I hate—loathe the thought of——" -Then in spite of myself I found myself gripping the hilt of my sword, -and setting my teeth together while I vowed to set her at liberty. I -found joy in the thought of beating the Killigrews too, and laughed as I -thought of their discomfiture.</p> - -<p>But I need not tell of all my fears, notwithstanding they worried me -sorely, and when I made my way towards the stile the following morning I -had almost prepared myself to be told that the maid Nancy would not -trust me.</p> - -<p>I found Jennifer Lanteglos waiting for me. She had just come from the -house of the Killigrews.</p> - -<p>"Have you seen your sister this morning?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Iss, sur."</p> - -<p>"Well?" and I waited impatiently for her to speak.</p> - -<p>"Ef you plaise, sur, they'll come."</p> - -<p>I know not why, but my heart seemed to have a difficulty in beating.</p> - -<p>"Hath Mistress Nancy spoken to Benet?" I asked excitedly.</p> - -<p>"No, sur, but 'Melia 'ave. Maaster Benet wos took in a minit."</p> - -<p>"And he'll arrange the escape?"</p> - -<p>"Iss, sur, they be going to leave the house at nine o'clock."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p><p>"I dunnaw, sur. 'Melia ded'n tell me, she 'ad n' time. But she'll do -et, sur."</p> - -<p>That was all the wench could tell me, and so I had to be content. How -Benet was to deceive Otho, how they were to escape without detection, I -knew not. It was an anxious day that I passed, but I comforted myself -with the thought that Mistress Nancy Molesworth was not to be imposed -upon, and that she would see to it that all my behests were obeyed. All -the same, as I thought of the many things which might take place, I -cursed myself as a numskull for not devising a better plan; for I -fancied I saw a hundred ways better than the one I had marked out.</p> - -<p>At nine o'clock I dismounted from Chestnut at the four cross-ways, -ready, as I thought, for whatever might happen. I looked around me, for -it was bright moonlight, and took note of the position. It was a lonely -spot, a mile from the house, so unless the party were followed we were -not likely to be troubled with interference.</p> - -<p>After I had waited a quarter of an hour or so, and heard no sounds I -became sorely impatient. Had Benet seen through the scheme and taken her -the other way? Had Otho discovered the plot? Had Amelia proved false? -Had Nancy changed her mind at the last minute? I called myself a fool -for caring so much, but at that time I was in a fever, and I chafed -finely as I strode to and fro.</p> - -<p>More than half an hour had passed, and I had put my foot in the stirrup -to ride towards Endellion, when I heard the sound of horses' hoofs; a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> -minute or so later I saw a man and two women riding towards me.</p> - -<p>I drew my sword, and waited.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XI.</span> <span class="smaller">MY FIGHT WITH BENET KILLIGREW, AND OUR FLIGHT ACROSS THE MOORS.</span></h2> - -<p>"Stop!" I cried as the party came up. Immediately the women checked -their horses, but the man seemed as though he would ride on, heedless of -me. When he saw that his companions obeyed my bidding, however, he -wheeled around savagely.</p> - -<p>"Who are you, my man?" he cried. It was Benet Killigrew who spoke. -Evidently the women had carefully obeyed my bidding.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Killigrew, for carrying out my plans," I said. "Now you can -ride back to your father and the priest, and tell them what a fool you -have been."</p> - -<p>I heard him growl an oath which I will not here set down.</p> - -<p>"What want you?" he cried.</p> - -<p>"I could have shot you easily," I said, "but that is not my way. Go back -now, I will take care of the lady."</p> - -<p>He saw the trap into which he had fallen, but he was not a man to give -up easily.</p> - -<p>"Ha!" he laughed, "after all, I'm glad of this. You thought I should -play into your hands, but, by Heaven, you play into mine!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p><p>He leaped from his horse as he spoke, and I believe that for the moment -in his eagerness to fight he had forgotten why he was there.</p> - -<p>Bidding Chestnut stand still, I placed myself on guard while Benet drew -his sword.</p> - -<p>"I like not fighting before women," he cried; "they faint at the sight -of blood, but, by Cormoran, I love you, Trevanion! We'll fight for the -maid, and the best man shall have her."</p> - -<p>"Stop a minute," I said. "This is Mistress Nancy Molesworth, is it not?"</p> - -<p>"Yes,"—it was the maid herself who spoke.</p> - -<p>"And you do not wish to go with this man Benet Killigrew?"</p> - -<p>"No, no. I will go no further with him now. I only came here thus at -your bidding!"</p> - -<p>"Did you?" growled Benet, "but you will go further with me. Trevanion, -you are over confident, my man. Because you threw me by a trick I had -not practised, you ventured on this scheme? I love you for it, but you -are a dead man, Trevanion"; and he gave a laugh of wild joy.</p> - -<p>For the moment I repented I had not wounded him unawares and taken away -the maid without his knowing who had done it, but only for a moment. It -is but a coward's device to hurt an unprepared man. Besides, although -Benet Killigrew was a wild rake, and ill-fitted to be the husband of -such a maid as Nancy Molesworth, he was a brave man, and loved a fight, -and as such I respected him.</p> - -<p>Without waiting he attacked me hotly; all the same I saw he was wary, -and was not weakened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> by over-confidence, as he was when we wrestled. -His eyes continued to gleam with a fierce joy, and he laughed like a man -well pleased.</p> - -<p>"You thought to beat Benet Killigrew," he cried, "you thought to use him -as a tool, eh?"</p> - -<p>For full three minutes we fought without either gaining advantage, and I -realized how much depended on the skill and strength of my right arm. I -saw too that Benet meant to kill me; every thrust he made meant death -had I not been successful in parrying them. Never before had I fought -with such a man; never before had I seen such a gleam of joy, a joy that -was devilish, as I saw in Benet Killigrew's eyes.</p> - -<p>I had no chance of noticing the two women, for Benet pressed me sorely. -I fancied I heard some slight screams, but of these I recked nothing. A -woman always cries out at a man's blows. For the first few minutes I -acted on the defensive. I was anxious to test my antagonist, before -seeking to disable him, for this was all I wanted to do.</p> - -<p>Presently, therefore I prepared myself for a method of attack of which I -fancied Killigrew would be ignorant, but in making it I placed myself at -a disadvantage, for my heel caught on a big stone which lay in the road, -and I was thrown off my guard. He was not slow in making use of this, as -may be imagined, and I doubt much if I could have saved myself, for I -stumbled back a couple of paces, and as I stumbled I saw his sword arm -raised. Before he could strike, however, his arm was caught from behind, -and in a second I was my own man again.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p><p>He gave a savage oath, and furiously threw aside the one who had kept -him from taking advantage of my mishap.</p> - -<p>In a second I saw that it was Mistress Nancy Molesworth who had come to -my aid, and while I felt ashamed that I needed to be helped by a maid, -the incident in the battle nerved my arm.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Benet Killigrew," I said, "that stone shall not serve you -again."</p> - -<p>"Bah, you were at my mercy," he cried, "but you were saved by the maid -Nancy. Well, the best man shall have her!"</p> - -<p>After that no further word was spoken, for we fell to again, and each of -us fought like grim death. And now Benet fought not so much for the joy -of fighting, as for the sake of claiming the maid who had held his hand, -and for revenge on me. I too fought in deadly earnest, for now that the -maid had rendered me such signal service I felt more than ever desirous -of ridding her from the power of the Killigrews, and perhaps I desired -to show her even at that moment that I was a better man than my -opponent. Besides, I knew that Otho Killigrew and his brothers might be -upon me at any moment, so that whatever was done must be done quickly. -With this in my mind I became less cautious, being anxious to finish the -business, and Benet, noting this, thought, I expect, that my guard was -becoming weak; whereupon, imagining I was yielding ground, he rushed on -me with so little care that he spitted himself on my sword, while his -weapon fell from his hand.</p> - -<p>Precious though every moment was, I undid his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> doublet and examined the -wound I had made. The blood came freely, but I did not think it was -mortal. For this I was glad, because I wished not to have his life -resting on me.</p> - -<p>"You have got the maid, Trevanion," he gasped, "but I shall not die. -Some time we shall fight again," and with that he fell into a swoon.</p> - -<p>"We are followed!"</p> - -<p>It was the maid Nancy who spoke, and instantly I heard the sound of -horses.</p> - -<p>"Mount!" I cried quickly, and then I saw that the serving-maid had not -alighted from her horse. Whistling to Chestnut that he might come to me, -I turned to help Mistress Nancy to get on her horse; but she would have -nought to do with me. Instead she led her steed to a high stone, and -without my aid sat in her saddle. I jumped on Chestnut's back, -therefore, and galloped southward, with the two women close to me.</p> - -<p>Both of them rode well. The maid Nancy sat her horse gracefully, as -every well-born woman should, while Amelia Lanteglos rode carelessly and -easily, as is common among country wenches who make a practice of riding -horses barebacked. For a couple of miles neither spoke; we rode hard as -was natural, but at the end of that time I drew my rein for a moment. I -was anxious to listen whether we were followed. The women, however, rode -forward.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" I said.</p> - -<p>"For why?" It was Mistress Nancy who spoke.</p> - -<p>"I wish to listen whether the Killigrews are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> riding behind us, or -whether they have stopped with Benet."</p> - -<p>Upon this they obeyed my behest, I thought unwillingly. I listened for a -few moments, but no sound reached me.</p> - -<p>"They must be staying awhile with Benet," I said aloud.</p> - -<p>"Yes, but they will follow us. Let us forward!"</p> - -<p>"Whither?" I asked, for her tones nettled me. She spoke as though I were -a servant.</p> - -<p>"There is but one place," she replied sharply. "Your promise was to take -me to Polperro."</p> - -<p>"And when you get there?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Your work will be done then, sir."</p> - -<p>"But the Killigrews will follow you to Polperro."</p> - -<p>"I have friends there who will protect me. Let us waste no more time."</p> - -<p>We rode forward without another word, although, to tell the truth, her -discourteous mode of speech cooled my ardour. Apparently she did not -remember that I had been scheming and fighting for her liberty. -Evidently I was no more to her than a lad who might open a gate through -which she might enter into liberty. What became of me in opening the -gate, she cared not. This ill-agreed with my nature, although, when I -remembered my promise to Peter Trevisa, I felt tongue-tied. The truth -was, I wot not what to do. My bargain with Trevisa hung like a millstone -around my neck, and the fact that I could not altogether shake off the -thought that I meant to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> take the maid to Treviscoe made me ashamed to -speak to her.</p> - -<p>I do not pretend to be a hero such as story-tellers rave about, and I -must confess that the thought of having Trevanion under easy -circumstances became hourly more dear to me. All the same I wanted to -act worthily of my name, and the thought of the helplessness of the -women who rode near me made me anxious for their safety.</p> - -<p>"We must ride through Wadebridge," I said at length.</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because of the river."</p> - -<p>"Very well."</p> - -<p>After that we lapsed into silence again. A mile or two further on I -sought to draw her into a conversation, but in vain. Evidently she had -accepted my escort as the one means of escaping from the Killigrews, but -she loved me no more than she trusted them. I was as distasteful to her -as they were, and she would have scorned my help had any other means -presented themselves. I could see too that she did not trust me, and -that if I acted contrary to her wishes she would leave me. Now that she -had gained her liberty she felt confident of her own strength and -ingenuity. The fact that no sound of the Killigrews followed us gave her -assurance, and in her ignorance of what might happen she fancied herself -well out of harm's way. For myself she was sure I must have some purpose -of my own to serve, and it was for her to use me in so far as I could be -of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> any value to her, taking precautions all the time, however, that I -did not betray her.</p> - -<p>This was how the matter appealed to me, and every mile of the journey -confirmed my belief. Moreover I felt she was just, for although my heart -revolted at the thought of taking her to Treviscoe, I knew I had not -given up hopes of getting back Trevanion.</p> - -<p>All this made me a sorry companion, and made me hang my head as I rode -along.</p> - -<p>"We must decide what road we take after we reach Wadebridge," I said as -we drew near the little port.</p> - -<p>"How? why?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"There be several roads," I replied. "The nearest way to Polperro will -be to ride through Egloshayle, and thence, on to Bodmin, but that is -also the road the Killigrews will most likely take in their search after -you."</p> - -<p>"But they are not following."</p> - -<p>"Doubtless they stopped when they came to Benet, but if I know Otho he -will not give up easily."</p> - -<p>"And the other roads?"</p> - -<p>"There is one across the moors by which we can get to a place called St. -Blazey; from thence it is but a few miles to Polperro."</p> - -<p>"And which do you advise?"</p> - -<p>"I had better not advise," I replied proudly. "The road to Bodmin is -good, although it hath but an ill name, because of the footpads who -infest it. The one across the moors is rough and not so easily followed. -It would be easy to get lost there in the dark."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p><p>"And think you the Killigrews would overtake us if we went the Bodmin -road?"</p> - -<p>"They could ride faster than we."</p> - -<p>"And they would take me back?"</p> - -<p>"I can fight one, I cannot fight many. Besides, when one is not trusted, -it is but little he can do."</p> - -<p>She looked at me keenly.</p> - -<p>"Advise me," she said presently.</p> - -<p>"There will be no sound of horses' hoofs across the moors," I said. -"That fact cuts two ways, but it would give us the advantage at the -start."</p> - -<p>"We will go across the moors," she said in a more friendly way, although -her voice was anxious, as indeed it might well be.</p> - -<p>Accordingly we rode across the bridge which leads into the little town -of Wadebridge, and then went some distance on the Padstow road, until we -came to a little lane which led to the moors. We had gone perhaps a mile -across a dreary tract of land, when she spoke again.</p> - -<p>"There be no bogs, no dangerous places here?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"I never heard of any," I replied.</p> - -<p>"And you think we are away from danger?"</p> - -<p>"I think we are less likely to be followed than if we had taken the main -way. In my opinion it would be best for us to find some place of rest as -soon as daylight comes."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"We shall not be able to travel rapidly in the dark, and, think as we -may, but the Killigrews will be scouring the whole countryside, and that -right quickly."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>"But can we not hurry on to Polperro?"</p> - -<p>"It is several hours' ride from here. In an hour or so it will be -daylight. They will then be able to track our horses. Even if they fail -to track us in that way, they will have men placed near John Polperro's -house."</p> - -<p>"Why did you not tell me this earlier?"</p> - -<p>"You would not listen to me."</p> - -<p>"What would you do now then?"</p> - -<p>"I think it would be best to find a farm-house. If we could hap on a -convenient one it would be best to rest there two or three days. This -done, I might reconnoitre Polperro's place, and perchance prepare him -for your coming."</p> - -<p>She turned her head towards me, but the sky was overcast and the light -was dim. She could barely see my face, neither could I see hers. Then I -remembered that I had never seen the maid in broad daylight, and for the -first time I felt the strangeness of my position. I was alone on a wide -stretch of moors with a lady and her serving-woman. We were in all -probability pursued by those who had the legal right to govern the -lady's actions. She desired to go to a place of safety, while it was to -my interest to take her to Peter Trevisa. All this I knew before, but -until then I did not realize what it meant.</p> - -<p>"Will it be safe to go to a farm-house?" she said at length.</p> - -<p>"The country people are very hospitable," I replied; "besides we can pay -them liberally."</p> - -<p>Presently the dark outline of a square church tower appeared against the -dark sky.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>"What is that?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"It is St. Wenn Church tower," I replied. "We should have got farther -than this, but we have been obliged to come very slowly across the -moors. I think the road will soon be better now."</p> - -<p>"It will soon be daylight, you say. Will you look out for some place -where we can stay."</p> - -<p>She spoke despondingly. Doubtless she was lonely, and perhaps she felt -the real difficulties of the situation. She spoke no further to me, -however, but fell back with her serving-maid, leaving me to my thoughts.</p> - -<p>Presently I saw a gray streak in the eastern sky, and then looking back -I saw a party of horsemen.</p> - -<p>"Ride faster!" I cried out. "We are followed."</p> - -<p>"By whom?"</p> - -<p>"Look back," I replied.</p> - -<p>She obeyed me, and I saw by the look in her eyes that she came to the -same conclusion as I.</p> - -<p>"What can we do?" she cried.</p> - -<p>In truth I knew not how to answer her. I had discovered enough of the -Killigrews to know they would not be easily beaten. I was sure too they -would seek to be revenged on me, while the maid Nancy would be wholly in -their power, if I were unable to protect her. To make matters worse, -too, I saw that her horse was lame. It might be that only a stone had -become wedged in the hollow of his hoof, but on the other hand it might -be more serious. Daylight would soon be upon us,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> and our followers, if -they were the Killigrews, would find us easily.</p> - -<p>"In truth, I cannot tell you just yet," I said. "Let us ride on."</p> - -<p>It was but comfortless words I could speak, but she made no complaining -answer. We descended into a little hollow from which we could not see -our pursuers, but we were none the less free from danger. A few minutes -later we climbed the hill on the other side, I vainly racking my brain -for some feasible plan. All the time the light grew brighter, but I -looked not towards her. Truth to tell, I was ashamed. When we reached -the summit of the hill, while we were hidden from those behind, the -country southward was exposed to our view. My heart gave a great leap, -for what I saw set me thinking rapidly.</p> - -<p>Before me, about two miles away, rose a great rock. It was perhaps -thirty feet high, while nearly at the summit I could see what seemed -like masonry. A doorway was fashioned, just as though some one had used -the place as a refuge.</p> - -<p>"That," I thought, "is Roche Rock!"</p> - -<p>No sooner had the fancy flashed through my brain, than I remembered -Anthony, the tale-teller. I called to mind what he had said about -escaping to a high rock amidst the wild waste of moors. I minded the -scrap of paper lying at my chamber door, on which was written the word -<i>ROCHE</i>.</p> - -<p>As I said, the light was increasing, although the sun had not yet risen. -I looked back; we were still hidden from our pursuers.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p><p>"Mistress Nancy!" I cried, "yonder is one place of refuge."</p> - -<p>"Yonder rock! How?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot explain now. Come, let us ride more quickly. I feel sure there -is safety!"</p> - -<p>For the first time since the daylight came I looked at her face. True, -she had suffered much excitement, fear, and fatigue through the night, -but at that moment the light of hope shone in her eyes. Yes, she was a -beauteous maid, and I wondered not that so many men loved her. I had no -feeling of the sort myself,—at the same time her many fears appealed to -my pity, and, forgetful of my promises, I swore to myself that I would -take her to a place of safety.</p> - -<p>"Let us not spare horseflesh!" I cried. "It is but a couple of miles."</p> - -<p>I urged her horse forward, but it was no use. The animal was badly -lamed, and it became more painful for him to hobble at every step he -took.</p> - -<p>"It cannot be helped," I cried; "my Chestnut can carry us both easily. -There, place your foot on mine, and jump in front of me!"</p> - -<p>The maid hesitated as though the thought were unpleasant, but she -overcame her feelings, and did as I bid her, I feeling more than ever -determined to stand by her loyally. Past thirty as I was, the -unaccustomed experience of a maid sitting near me made my blood tingle, -as after speaking to Chestnut we rode through Roche church town. No one -was astir; indeed, the whole village seemed as much unconscious as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> -dead who lay near the old parish church. Roche contained only a few -houses, and we quickly passed through it: then turning to the left we -hurried forward towards the rock, which stood amidst a number of small -rocks on the lone moor.</p> - -<p>The serving-maid, Amelia Lanteglos, kept close to me, neither did she -make any complaint. Indeed throughout the whole journey she had kept -cheerful, and as far as lay in her power had ministered to her mistress.</p> - -<p>Arrived at the rock, I looked around me. There were no signs of -pursuers; indeed all was silent as death, save for the sound of our -panting horses. I looked up towards the masonry at the summit of the -rock, which looked like a chapel, and eagerly sought for some signs of -life. In my eagerness to get there, I had scarcely thought of the -improbability of any one taking up abode at such a place. I had obeyed -the impulse of the moment, without recking its wisdom. Meanwhile -Mistress Nancy stood by Chestnut's head looking at me doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"Uncle Anthony," I said; and as if some one rose from the dead, I heard -sounds which seemed to come from the heart of the great rock, and a -minute later I saw Uncle Anthony's face appear at a small window.</p> - -<p>"Uncle Anthony," I repeated, "I want your protection. There are helpless -women here who are fleeing from danger."</p> - -<p>His eyes rested on me for barely a second, then he turned to the maid -Nancy.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p><p>"The shadow of a great rock in a weary land," he said softly. "Come, my -lamb."</p> - -<p>A few minutes later he had descended to the base of the rock. "Come, my -lamb," he said again.</p> - -<p>With an agility of which I should not have thought him capable, he -climbed up the steep side of his resting-place, carefully helping -Mistress Nancy all the time, until he came to a doorway seemingly hewn -out of the rock; having told her to enter, he rendered a similar service -to Amelia Lanteglos, while I stood and watched him like one dazed.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XII.</span> <span class="smaller">ROCHE ROCK.</span></h2> - -<p>"Come, Roger Trevanion," he said presently, "yet there is room."</p> - -<p>"The horses?" I queried.</p> - -<p>"Ah yes," he said, quickly coming to me. "I can make no provision for -them."</p> - -<p>I gave a gesture of impatience.</p> - -<p>"You have a story to tell me, Roger Trevanion," he said, "and it is well -it should be told quickly. But there is plenty of grass on the moors, -and your horse obeys you like a Christian. Take off the saddle, and tell -it to go yonder out of sight, and the other will follow."</p> - -<p>I was not long in doing his bidding. I pulled off the head-gearing and -saddles from both the animals, and then I told Chestnut what I wanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> -him to do. I am sure he understood me perfectly, for he trotted some -distance across the moors, the other nag following as Uncle Anthony had -said.</p> - -<p>"There be many horses grazing on these moors," said the old man, as -though he divined the thoughts in my mind, "so yours will attract no -notice."</p> - -<p>I looked around me again, and then up at the vast mass of bluish schorl -rock on which the lonely chapel was built.</p> - -<p>"A wise man doth mount the high rock, and rest in peace," he said, -repeating the very words he had used when I had seen him at Endellion, -only now he spoke like a man of learning and not in the Cornish -vernacular as he had spoken then. "Happy are they who in trouble seek -the shelter of the wise man's high place."</p> - -<p>"I remember," I replied, "that is why I came."</p> - -<p>"You will not be troubled," he said, "it hath a bad name. Spirits of the -dead are said to haunt this moor."</p> - -<p>"The Killigrews fear not man nor devil, especially Otho," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Come, you have much to tell me," was his answer. "At present no man is -in sight, but come. The lady Nancy and her serving-maid will want food -and rest, and there is trouble in your eyes."</p> - -<p>I followed him as he climbed towards the summit of his hiding-place, but -I found it a difficult task, for it was almost perpendicular; the -foot-places were but narrow, too, and the holding-places few. But Uncle -Anthony went easily, like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> one who had ascended and descended many -times, as indeed he had.</p> - -<p>I discovered that the building in which the old man lived was divided -into two apartments. The one he had used for domestic purposes, and the -other for prayer and meditation. The latter was the one known at St. -Michael's Chapel.</p> - -<p>"It is but little I can offer," remarked he; "but such as I have give I -unto thee. Come, we will go where the lady and her serving-maid -resteth."</p> - -<p>As I entered the strange hiding-place, Mistress Nancy looked eagerly -towards me as if expecting danger, but I quickly dispelled her fears, -and a few minutes later we were all eating such fare as Uncle Anthony -had been able to provide. Little was said during the meal; all of us -were apprehensive of danger, and, when we had eaten, the old man led me -into the chapel.</p> - -<p>"I can guess much," he said, "perchance you will wish to tell me more."</p> - -<p>I hesitated, for in truth I wot not how much to tell. I knew next to -nothing of the story-teller, who led such a strange existence. Who was -the man who masqueraded one day as a traveling droll, and the next as -hermit? Moreover, how came he to know my name? That he was a man -possessed of great powers of penetration was easily to be seen, and I -felt almost afraid as he fixed his keen gray eyes upon me.</p> - -<p>I looked from the window and saw three horsemen coming along the road we -had travelled, and pointed towards them.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p><p>"The Killigrews," I said.</p> - -<p>"Yes, but they will not come here." He spoke with certainty, and I could -not help believing that he told the truth.</p> - -<p>"Who are you, Uncle Anthony?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"A friend of the oppressed, and one who never forgets a kindness," he -replied.</p> - -<p>"Have you powers more than is ordinarily possessed by men?"</p> - -<p>"There be those who have eyes, and see, and there be those who have eyes -and see not. I see."</p> - -<p>"How know you what my name is?"</p> - -<p>He smiled. "Is the name of Trevanion an obscure one? Are the features of -the Trevanions unknown? Cornwall is not a large county, and there be -those who know it well."</p> - -<p>"But you knew not when we entered Endellion together."</p> - -<p>"There be those who, in hours of quiet thought, recall impressions once -made. There be those who can search the human heart, and read the mind."</p> - -<p>"Such powers belong only to the God who made us," I replied.</p> - -<p>"There be those to whom God speaks. Those who dream dreams and see -visions."</p> - -<p>I looked at him questioningly, but I could read nothing in his face; -when I looked into his eyes my own fell, even as the hands of a feeble -swordsman fall before those of his master.</p> - -<p>"If you know all, what need is there for me to tell you?" I stammered.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>"No man knows all," he replied. "But I have seen the face of the Lady -Nancy Molesworth. I have looked into her soul and seen its weariness and -sorrow. I know the hopes of the Killigrews. I looked into your heart, -and knew that your life was linked unto hers. I wrote the word 'Roche' -on that piece of paper, and have waited for your coming."</p> - -<p>"And beyond that?"</p> - -<p>"Beyond that, nothing certain."</p> - -<p>I debated with myself whether I should tell him everything, but I was -afraid and held my peace.</p> - -<p>"Have you naught to tell me, Roger Trevanion?" he said presently.</p> - -<p>"I had heard of the maid's imprisonment at Endellion," I replied, "and I -determined to set her at liberty." Then I described to him what had -happened as I have here written it down.</p> - -<p>"But what is the end to be?"</p> - -<p>"She wishes to be taken to the house of John Polperro."</p> - -<p>"And you will take her there?"</p> - -<p>I was silent, for I remembered the promise I had made to Peter Trevisa.</p> - -<p>Again he scanned my features closely. "Love you this maid?" he asked -sternly.</p> - -<p>"I love no maid!" I replied scornfully.</p> - -<p>"Then what is your purpose? Oh, I know your history, Roger Trevanion. I -know that for years you have taken no woman to your heart. I know that -you have lived in poverty for years. Would you wed her for her -possessions?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p><p>"I would wed no woman for her possessions," I replied angrily. "Women -are naught to me."</p> - -<p>"So I have been told. Then do you help her from pure chivalry? Is it -your purpose to take her to the place she desires to go? Have you faced -imprisonment and death without thought of reward?"</p> - -<p>"What is that to you?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"This," he replied. "You need my help, and I must be assured that you -mean all that a gentleman should mean before I extend it further."</p> - -<p>"Gentleman!" I cried, "what know you of the feelings of a gentleman? You -a droll, a travelling tale-teller!"</p> - -<p>This I said with a purpose, for I desired to see further into the heart -of the man. I saw too that I had not spoken in vain. His eyes flashed -angrily, and he placed his hand on his left hip as though he carried a -sword there.</p> - -<p>"As good a gentleman as you," he cried angrily, and for the moment he -had lost control over himself. "I have a name as good as yours, my -family—" he stopped, feeling doubtless that he had been betrayed into -saying more than he intended.</p> - -<p>"If you are a gentleman," I replied, "you will know that a man does not -tell all that is in his heart to every passing stranger. You evidently -have your secret, you do not tell it to me."</p> - -<p>"True," he replied quietly. "I spoke hastily, Roger Trevanion. I know -too that the word of a Trevanion is to be trusted, thus I will not -question it." Then he waited for some time in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> silence, his eyes -occasionally scanning the wild moors around, and again resting upon me.</p> - -<p>"I am waiting," he said presently.</p> - -<p>"For what?"</p> - -<p>"Your word."</p> - -<p>"What word?"</p> - -<p>"The word that your motives are honourable. That you seek only to carry -out the maid's wishes. That you will take her to the house of John -Polperro, and then, if she wishes, leave her as a gentleman should."</p> - -<p>I did not answer. I could not.</p> - -<p>"I wait," he said presently.</p> - -<p>"I am not accustomed to pledge my word and tell my purposes to -strangers," I replied. "I must consider."</p> - -<p>"And I must consider," he retorted.</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Whether I tell the lady Nancy not to trust you. Whether I shall send -word to the Killigrews telling of your whereabouts, or throw you on the -rocks beneath us!"</p> - -<p>I laughed in his face, and yet as I looked at his lean sinewy body, and -saw the flash of his eyes, my laughter died on my lips. I felt sure that -he could not easily carry out his threat, but I saw I should be a fool -if I made him my enemy.</p> - -<p>"It will not be well for us to be at cross purposes," I said presently. -"Believe me, I would not do the maid an ill turn."</p> - -<p>"And methinks I spoke hastily, foolishly," he replied, "for in truth I -am no fighter. I forgot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> that I am an old man, that my sinews are soft -and my bones stiff."</p> - -<p>"Besides," I suggested, "the maid Nancy hath a will of her own. She is -not easily forced."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes," he replied eagerly, "we must speak with her. Nothing must be -done hastily. As you said some time ago, the Killigrews will be watching -around Polperro's house, and she must not go there yet. No, no!"</p> - -<p>He spoke, I thought, rather to himself than to me, and I wondered what -was in his mind.</p> - -<p>"The Killigrews will be scouring the countryside," he went on, "but it -will be many hours before they think of Roche Rock. Of that I will -swear. She is safe yet, but she cannot stay here long. It would neither -be seemly nor right, and Uncle Anthony hath many hiding-places—many."</p> - -<p>"We will have to stay here till nightfall," I said, as though he still -trusted in me.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he replied, "and as soon as she hath rested we will speak -together. You feel weary perchance. Lie down on this pallet and rest."</p> - -<p>"No, I cannot rest; my mind is filled with many things," was my answer. -"I will stay here and watch"; and indeed I felt no weariness.</p> - -<p>Uncle Anthony left the chapel, but soon returned. "The lady Nancy is -asleep," he remarked, "and the serving-maid sits by her watching."</p> - -<p>Some hours passed, but nothing of importance happened. I had a further -conversation with Uncle Anthony, but I could not find out who he was, or -why he chose such a strange mode of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>existence; but presently he came to -me, saying that he had prepared food for us, after which it would be -well if we talked together.</p> - -<p>During the meal a silence fell upon us, neither did Mistress Nancy once -look at me in the face. But my eyes constantly rested upon her. She was -evidently very anxious, and the journey through the night had told upon -her. Nevertheless I was more and more impressed by the thought of her -beauty. And yet, as I thought, there was but little tenderness in her -beauty. Her face was set, almost rigid, a look of determination -constantly revealed itself, and she seemed to be thinking deeply.</p> - -<p>"The Killigrews are in the neighbourhood," said Uncle Anthony when the -simple meal had been eaten. "They will know that you are near. They will -have seen the lame horse you left on the road."</p> - -<p>"But how will they know I have not gone on?" This she said like one -impatient.</p> - -<p>"They be keen men these Killigrews, and hard riders. They were only a -few miles behind. If you had continued on horseback they would have seen -you; this they will be sure to know."</p> - -<p>"It will be well to start immediately after dark," I suggested. "We must -take a circuitous route. I know of a safe hiding-place in the west of -the county. Once there it will be easy to find out whether it will be -safe for you to go to Polperro's home."</p> - -<p>Her eyes flashed angrily into mine, but she gave no answer. I felt her -behaviour to be a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> poor reward for the service I had rendered, and a -bitter feeling came into my heart. Then I thought of what my suggestion -meant, and my eyes dropped. Still I went on, unheeding the cool -reception she gave to my words.</p> - -<p>"I am sure you will be safe in the place I have in my mind," I said, "it -is in the neighbourhood where the Killigrews dare not come. For Hugh -Boscawen lives close by, and he has armed many men to protect the King -against the Pretender. If the Killigrews came there methinks it would go -ill with them. At present I am afraid it would be unsafe for you to seek -John Polperro's aid."</p> - -<p>"Would you place me under Hugh Boscawen's care?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"That would scarcely be wise," I replied stammeringly.</p> - -<p>"With whom would you place me then?"</p> - -<p>"I know an old squire who lives near him," I replied. "He would do -anything for me."</p> - -<p>She lifted her eyes to my face, and looked steadily at me.</p> - -<p>"What is his name?" she asked.</p> - -<p>I tried to utter Peter Trevisa's name, but I could not. Again she put a -weight upon my tongue, just as when I stood close to her on the top of -Endellion House. I mumbled some words indistinctly, and cursed myself -for being such a fool. Why could I not brazen out the matter as I had -intended? Was I to be again beaten by this chit of a girl?</p> - -<p>She was silent for a few seconds; then she spoke again.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>"Master Penryn, or whatever your name may be," she said, still keeping -her eyes steadily upon me, "will you tell me why you have sought to help -me away from the Killigrews?"</p> - -<p>"Have not my actions told you?" I stammered.</p> - -<p>"Told me what?"</p> - -<p>"That I desire to be a friend to you."</p> - -<p>"I have tried to believe so," was her answer. "I have tried to trust -you, but I cannot. If you would be my friend, tell me plainly what led -you to Endellion. Tell me why you kept silence when I asked you the -other night. I need a friend—sadly. I am hedged around by those who -seek to do me ill. But I cannot trust a man who by every action betrays -an evil purpose."</p> - -<p>"Methinks you trusted me to fight Benet Killigrew," I retorted. "You -trusted me to bring you so far. Have I betrayed that trust?"</p> - -<p>"I will be frank with you," was her answer. "When I heard of your -answers to Otho, when I was told that you preferred imprisonment rather -than promise him that you would not seek to set me at liberty, I doubted -myself. I thought I had been unjust to you. I wrote and told you so. -When I heard of your escape through mastering Benet, and thought of what -it meant, I doubted myself more still. As you know, I was in sore -straits, and when I heard of what my maid told me, I could not believe -that a gentleman would prove false to a defenceless maid. Thus I risked -everything in my desire for freedom, and because I was trying to believe -in you. I believed in you as you fought Benet; but when we were alone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> -together I shrunk from you in spite of myself. I seemed to see the mask -that you wore. Perchance I appear ungrateful, for indeed, you have so -far behaved as a man of honour should, but every minute my heart is -telling me that you are a traitor, and that you have purposes of your -own of which you dare not speak."</p> - -<p>As she spoke, it seemed as though my heart were laid bare to her gaze. I -saw myself a miserable spy, a traitor to the name I bore. I cursed -myself for having aught to do with the maid who was so wise, and wished -that I had spurned Peter Trevisa's overtures. Moreover anger burnt in my -heart against her, and my tongue was unloosed. Unmindful of consequence -I answered her in wrath.</p> - -<p>"You call me a traitor," I cried, "because I do not flatter and favour; -because I do not make love to you like Otho Killigrew or his brother -Benet. You trust John Polperro rather than me, because he comes with -honeyed words telling of a love which perchance he doth not feel. Benet -Killigrew would take you from Endellion because he would marry you and -your estates. Otho got a priest to come there with the same end in view. -Polperro is smooth-spoken, but would he render Nancy Molesworth the -service he promises if Restormel did not exist? Well, I come to you with -no honeyed words. I do not tell you that I love you, for in truth I do -not. I love no woman, and will end my life without taking a wife. But am -I a traitor because of that? You accuse me of not telling you all that -is in my mind. Cannot a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> man have an honourable secret? May I not have -honourable purposes and yet not be able to divulge them? This accusation -seems a poor reward to a man who hath endangered both liberty and life -to bring you so far."</p> - -<p>I saw that my answer had its effect. Her lips quivered and her eyes -became softer.</p> - -<p>"I am not forgetful of your services, and perchance I am unkind, but in -all my life my heart hath never told me wrong," she said. "All the same -I will trust you if you will answer me one fair question. If you had a -sister, a dear one, in such dire extremity as I am, would you have her -done by as you have it in your heart to do by me?"</p> - -<p>Again I was tongue-tied, and my eyes fell before hers. I thought of her -as being the wife of young Peter Trevisa, I thought of the net which the -two Trevisas were probably trying to weave around her just then, and I -stood dumb, like a boy caught in the act of stealing.</p> - -<p>The maid gave a sigh, and then as I lifted my eyes to hers again I saw a -look of loathing and disgust on her face.</p> - -<p>"I have heard of you as having two names," she said, and I detected -scorn in her tones. "You have called yourself Penryn, and I have heard -that you are a Trevanion. They are both honourable. But I dare not trust -you, because you are unworthy of either. I would thank you if I could -for bringing me here, but I cannot, for there is that in your mind which -means worse to me than being the wife of a Killigrew."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>"I am dismissed then?" I cried in a rage—"dismissed like a disgraced -servant. Well, let it be so."</p> - -<p>"Yes," she cried, "I know you now, and I would rather trust to the -mercies of the Killigrews than to one who, under the guise of -friendship, would use the one who sought his help in order to carry out -some base purpose of his own."</p> - -<p>With these words, she left the little room, and went into the chapel -where I had spent most of the morning with Uncle Anthony. The maid had -maddened me now. I felt no sympathy with her. Hitherto my mind and heart -had been divided. Sometimes I had altogether made up my mind to place -her under the protection of John Polperro, and never had I fully decided -to take her to Peter Trevisa's. Indeed, I believe that had she wept and -prayed like some maidens would have done, aye, had she appealed to my -honour as a gentleman, I should at all hazards have been led by her -will. But now all was different. She had defied me, insulted me. She had -refused to have aught further to do with me. She preferred being taken -back to Endellion, to being left under my escort.</p> - -<p>"Very well, my proud lady," I thought, "but you have not done with me -yet. You <i>shall</i> go to Peter Trevisa's, and neither the Killigrews, John -Polperro, nor Uncle Anthony shall prevent me from taking you."</p> - -<p>And this I determined because I was mad, and because, in spite of the -fact that her accusation was partly just, her words rankled in my heart.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>But I knew that I must be wary. I knew that Uncle Anthony was watching -me closely, so I feigned to take my dismissal kindly.</p> - -<p>"Be it so," I laughed; "I am always glad to be rid of women. I will -leave you shortly, Uncle Anthony, but this bout with the maid hath tired -me more than wrestling, and me thinks I will rest awhile." This I said -because I wanted an excuse for staying on the rock.</p> - -<p>"That is well," said Uncle Anthony kindly. "We must not be hard on the -maid; perchance she will think better of you presently. I will go and -fetch the pallet from the chapel."</p> - -<p>"And, Uncle Anthony," I said with a laugh, "hermit though you are, you -must surely have a bottle of wine somewhere."</p> - -<p>"Think you so?" replied the old man. "Well, I will see."</p> - -<p>He shortly returned with wine, which I drank. After which I lay down, -not thinking of going to sleep, but rather to wait and watch. Presently, -however, a drowsy feeling came over me, which I felt no inclination to -resist, and before long I became unconscious.</p> - -<p>When I awoke, it was dark. I listened, but could hear no sound. I went -into the chapel, and found it empty; I called aloud, but got no reply. -Then I realized what had happened. While I had been asleep Uncle Anthony -had escaped with the maid, and both were doubtless many miles away.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE WISDOM OF GOSSIPING WITH AN INNKEEPER.</span></h2> - -<p>I had been beaten. I knew it, and the fact maddened me. The old hermit -and the maid had divined the thoughts in my mind. In all probability the -wine I had drunk was drugged. Thus while I was asleep, they had gone -away, leaving me alone on the lonely rock. Which way had they gone? I -knew not. They in the silence of the night had left me, leaving me in -entire ignorance.</p> - -<p>I looked from the chapel window, and saw a vast tract of country around -me, for the moon had risen high in the heavens; then, yielding to the -impulse of the moment, I climbed to the highest peak on the great mass -of stone. From this point I could see far in all directions, but no -signs of life were visible. I could see Roche church tower among the -trees, I could see the little village near. For the rest, nothing was in -sight save vast stretches of moorland. Here and there was a cultivated -field, but mostly the country-side was barren and forsaken.</p> - -<p>I listened, but all was silent. The night was very calm, save for a -sighing wind which as it entered a valley near made a low moaning sound. -For a moment a superstitious dread laid hold on me. I remembered the -story I had been told years before. It was said that the last heir of -the Tregarrick family, on whose lands the rock stood,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> became weary of -life, built the chapel in which old Anthony had taken up his abode, and -called it St. Michael's Chapel. Here he lived many years and died in -sorrow. Rumour also had it that Tregeagle's spirit, that ogre of Cornish -childhood, haunted the rock and the moors, and often breathed forth his -sorrow in sighs and moans. But I mastered my fears by an effort. I -remembered how I had been beaten, and anger drove all other feelings -away. The last heir of the Tregarricks and the Spirit of Tregeagle was -nothing to me, living or dead.</p> - -<p>I looked at my watch, and by the light of the moon discovered that it -was midnight. I had, therefore, been asleep for ten hours. Darkness came -on about six o'clock, so that in all probability they had left me long -hours before. I racked my brains sorely in order to divine the direction -they had taken, but without avail. Then I remembered that they must need -horses, and wondered how they managed. I felt sure, however, that Uncle -Anthony would be too full of devices to remain long in difficulty about -horseflesh. As he had said, many horses grazed among the moors; they -were of no great value, but doubtless he could obtain a couple that -would serve his purpose. One they had already, on which Amelia Lanteglos -had ridden, a useful animal which Benet Killigrew had taken from his -father's stables. This set me thinking again, and without more ado I -cautiously crept down to the moors. Giving a long shrill whistle which I -had taught Chestnut to obey, I awaited results. In a few seconds I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> -heard the sound of horse's hoofs; then in a short space of time the -animal I had learnt to love came up to me, and with a whinny of gladness -began to lick my hand.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Chestnut, old boy," I laughed, "at any rate they could not steal -you from me. Which way are they gone, my lad?"</p> - -<p>As though he understood me, he turned his head southward.</p> - -<p>"Well, Chestnut," I said, "I want to find them badly. You know which way -they went. I leave everything to you."</p> - -<p>Whereupon, I went to the hollow place under the rock into which I had -thrown my saddle, and to my delight I found that Uncle Anthony had left -both saddle and bridle untouched. A few seconds later I was on -Chestnut's back.</p> - -<p>"Follow them, Chestnut," I said; "I leave everything to you," and as -though he understood me, he carefully picked his way among the rocks -till he reached the highway, then without hesitation went westward -towards the church. Presently we came to some cross-ways, where he -hesitated, but only for a second. Putting his nose to the ground he -sniffed uneasily around and then started on a brisk trot southward.</p> - -<p>When I had gone perhaps three miles, all my hopes had departed. If the -truth must be told, too, I felt more and more like giving up what seemed -a useless quest. In spite of Chestnut choosing the southward road in -preference to any other, I was very probably riding away from the maid -Nancy and her companions, and even if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> I were not, what should I gain by -following them?</p> - -<p>"Let her go," I cried bitterly. "It has been an ill game I have been -playing—an ill game. Let Uncle Anthony take her whither he will."</p> - -<p>But this feeling did not long possess me. For the first time since I had -seen the maid, the promise I had made to Peter Trevisa became really -binding; moreover, I hated the thought of being beaten. If I gave up at -this point, I should never cease to reproach myself with being outwitted -by a girl, and it was not my nature to accept defeat easily. Besides, I -was curious to see what the end of the business would be. In spite of -myself I was interested in the maid. I admired her coolness and her -far-sightedness. Even though I was angry with her for calling me a -traitor, her very feeling of distrust of me made me sure she was no -ordinary schoolgirl. Nay, I carried my conclusions further. The -intuition that warned her against deceit, the power by which she made me -stammer like a boy, and hang my head like a thief, convinced me that -here was a pure-hearted maid, and one who might be trusted.</p> - -<p>A little later I came to St. Denis, but, as Chestnut showed no -inclination to halt, I rode straight on. I did not guide him in the -least, and although I felt myself foolish in allowing him to take the -St. Stephen's road, I laid no weight on the bridle rein.</p> - -<p>While passing through a little hamlet called Trethosa, the morning began -to dawn, and by the time I had reached St. Stephen's it was broad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> -daylight. I found a little inn in the village close by the churchyard -gates, called the King's Arms. Here, in spite of the fact that Chestnut -seemed as if he would go on, I stopped. The truth was, I felt hungry and -faint, and I knew that my horse would be all the better for a gallon or -two of oats and a good grooming. The landlord's name I discovered to be -Bill Best, and I found him very communicative, which is not a common -trait among Cornishmen. He told me his history with great freedom, also -that of his wife. He related to me the circumstances of his courtship, -and mentioned the amount of his wife's dowry.</p> - -<p>"'Tis a grand thing to have a good wife," I remarked.</p> - -<p>"'Tes, and ted'n," was his reply.</p> - -<p>I asked him to explain.</p> - -<p>"Well I be a man that do like my slaip, I be. When I caan't slaip ov a -night, I be oal dazey droo the day. Why now I be as dazey as can be. -Ordnarly I be a very cute man, avin a oncommon amount of sense. Ax our -passon. Why, 'ee'll tell 'ee that as a boy I cud leck off catechism like -bread'n trycle. But since I've bin married I caan't slaip."</p> - -<p>"Why, does your wife keep you awake?"</p> - -<p>"No, ted'n that. Tes the cheldern. But my Betsey cud slaip through a -earthquake, and zo tes, that all droo the night there's a passel of -cheldern squallin, keepin' me wake. Laast night, now, I 'ardly slaiped -for the night."</p> - -<p>"Indeed," I replied, "and was it your children last night?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>"Paartly," he replied, "paartly the cheldern, and paartly summin else. -Be you a gover'ment man?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Nothin' toal of a passon nuther, I spects?"</p> - -<p>"No, why?"</p> - -<p>"Well now I'll tell 'ee. But law, ere be your 'am rashers and eggs. -Haive to em now. They rashers ded cum from a pig thirty-score wight, the -beggest in this parish. Look top the graavy too; they'll make yore uzzle -like a trumpet fer sweetness. Ait em and I'll tell 'ee while you be -feedin'. But law, ther's nuff fer boath ov us, I can allays craake -better wen I'm aitin'."</p> - -<p>Accordingly he sat down by my side and helped himself liberally.</p> - -<p>"Well, naow, as I woz a-zayin'," he continued, "I ded'n go to bed till -laate laast night. I was avin a bit of tolk weth the 'ow'll Martin ovver -to Kernick. Do you know Martin?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Doan't 'ee fer sure, then? He's a purty booy, 'ee es. Years agone 'ee -used to stail sheep in a coffin. Stoal scores an scores that way. Ave -'ee 'eerd ow 'ee nacked ovver the exciseman, then?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Ded'n 'ee? law, that wos a purty taale, that wos. 'Twud maake 'ee scat -yer zides weth laffin. But there, you genlemen waan't care to do that. -Wot wos us talkin' bout, then?"</p> - -<p>"You said you couldn't sleep last night."</p> - -<p>"To be zure I ded. I'll tell 'ee. Old Martin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> do do a bit ov smugglin', -and do dail weth the smugglers, and as you be'ant a gover'ment man I may -tell 'ee that he brought me a vew ankers of things laast night laate. He -ded'n laive me till after twelve o'clock. Well, when 'ee wos gone off I -went to bed, and wos just going off to slaip when our Tryphena beginned -a squall. That zet off Casteena, and Casteena off Tamzin, and in a vew -minutes the 'ouse wos like Bedlam. You be'ant married, be 'ee, sur?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Then you doan knaw nothin bout life, you doan't. Gor jay! ow they -cheldern ded screech for sure. But they ded'n waake mauther, not they. -She slaiped through et oal, and snored like a tomcat into the bargain. -Aw she's a gefted wumman, my wife es. But owsummever, I got em off again -arter a bit and got into bed again. I wos just gittin braave'n slaipy -when I 'eerd the sound of osses comin from Kernick way. 'Gor jay!' ses -I, 'tes the exciseman! He've bin fer ould Martin and now he's comin fer -me.'"</p> - -<p>At this I became interested. "The sound of horses," I said; "were they -coming fast?"</p> - -<p>"Aw iss, braave coose, but not gallopin'. Well I lied luff and wos oal -ov a sweat, but twadd'n no excisemen t'oal, fer just as they got by the -church gates they stopped for a minit."</p> - -<p>"What time was this?"</p> - -<p>"Aw 'bout haaf-past two or dree o'clock. Well, I 'eerd 'em talkin', and -arter a bit I 'eerd a wumman spaik, so you may be sure I pricked up my -ears like a greyhound when he do 'ear a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>spaniel yelp among the vuss -bushes. So up I gits and looks out."</p> - -<p>"Well, and what did you see?"</p> - -<p>"A man and two wimmen."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" I cried.</p> - -<p>"Well, they ded'n stay long, for one of the wimmen zaid they wos -vollied. She must a 'ad sharp ears, for I ded'n 'ear nothin'."</p> - -<p>"Which way did they go?"</p> - -<p>"They zeemed unaisy, when I 'eerd the man zay they wud go on to -Scacewater, an' then turn back to Penhale."</p> - -<p>"Well?" I cried eagerly, "go on."</p> - -<p>"Aw, I thot I cud maake 'ee hark. Well, I 'eerd em go up by Sentry, and -then go on Terras way, purty coose."</p> - -<p>"Is that all?"</p> - -<p>"Well, after that I cudden slaip, and I jist lied and lied for long -time, and then I'eerd sum more osses comin'. 'Gor jay!' ses I, 'wot's -the mainen ov this?' I got out abed again, mauther slaipin' oal the -time, and arkened with oal the ears I 'ad."</p> - -<p>"And what happened?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I zeed three hossmen ride long, and they galloped arter the others -as ef they'd knawed which way they went."</p> - -<p>"And is that all?"</p> - -<p>"Ed'n that nuff? I cudden slaip a wink arterwards. Fust, I thot they -might be the French, then I thot they might be ghoasts, but I tell 'ee -it maade me oal luny, and 'eer I be this mornin', weth not aaf my -sharpness. Wy I tell 'ee, sur, I be a uncommon man ordnarly."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p><p>I asked the landlord many other questions, but although he informed me -many things about the roads, he could tell me nothing more about the -midnight <b>travellers</b>. However, I had heard enough to assure me that I had -come on the track of my late companions, and I was also assured that the -maid Nancy was being pursued by the Killigrews.</p> - -<p>"Where and what is Penhale?" I asked presently.</p> - -<p>"Penhale, sur, is one of the five manor 'ouses in the parish. Maaster -Trewint es the oaner ov et. It 'ave bin in the family for scores a -years."</p> - -<p>"I wonder if that will be one of Uncle Anthony's hiding-places?" I -mused, "if it is, he hath doubtless taken Mistress Nancy there, and is -probably there now, unless the Killigrews have relieved him of his -charge."</p> - -<p>"Is Trewint the squire of your parish?" I asked Bill Best.</p> - -<p>"Well, sur, ther eden no squire so to spaik. But 'ees a well-connected -man, sur. Why, he do belong to the Tregarrick family, which ded once own -oal Roche."</p> - -<p>This set me thinking again. Uncle Anthony had told me that he was a -gentleman; he had hinted that his family was as good as my own Why had -he taken up his abode at Roche Rock, which had belonged to the -Tregarricks? Was there any meaning in his going to Mr. Trewint, who was -related to the Tregarricks? These and many other questions troubled me -for a long time.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p><p>After considering the whole situation for an hour or more, I determined -to find my way to Penhale and there make inquiries. I thought it better -to go there afoot, first because the distance was scarcely two miles, -and second because I desired to attract no attention. Leaving the Manor -House of Resugga on my left, I walked on until I came to a little wooded -dell in which two houses were built. Here I stayed awhile, arrested by -the beauty of the scene. The place was called Terras, and was very fair -to look upon. A little stream purled its way down the valley, under -giant trees, and filled as my mind was with many things, I could but -stop and listen to the music of the water as it mingled with the sound -of rustling leaves overhead. As I passed on, I saw the miners working in -the moors. They were tin-streamers, and were, so I was told, making -riches rapidly. After this I stopped at a farm called Trelyon, from -whence I could see Trelyon Downs. Here legend had it giants lived, and -streamed the moors for minerals, and made bargains with the devil in -order that success might attend their labours. After leaving Trelyon I -was not long in reaching Penhale, a house of considerable size and -importance, and here I stopped and looked about me. The house was -comparatively new and very substantial, while signs of prosperity were -everywhere to be seen. Fine trees grew all around, and the gardens were -well planted. Evidently a well-to-do yeoman lived here.</p> - -<p>I tried to think of an excuse for entering, but presently gave up the -idea. If Uncle Anthony<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> and Mistress Nancy were there it would not be -well for them to know my whereabouts; and yet if I were to fulfil my -promise to Peter Trevisa, and thus retain Trevanion, I must know if they -were behind the walls which looked as though they might hide mysteries.</p> - -<p>Very soon I bethought me of the stables, and was just starting to find -them, when I saw a well-fed, portly man come out of the front door.</p> - -<p>"Jack," he shouted.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sur," replied a voice.</p> - -<p>"Bring my horse." On saying this he entered the house again.</p> - -<p>The place was perfectly silent, save for the stamping of horses' hoofs -and the bleat of sheep in the distance. From the spot on which I stood I -could easily see and hear without being seen.</p> - -<p>Presently the man, whom I took to be the owner of the place, came to the -door again, and this time some one accompanied him, although whoever it -was kept out of sight.</p> - -<p>"Well, I must be going. You say I shall not be seeing you again."</p> - -<p>I could not hear the murmured reply.</p> - -<p>"Well, have your own way. I have heard of the old chapel and well in St. -Mawgan, where it is said an old priest lives; but man, you are safer -here."</p> - -<p>After this I heard nothing, and a little later the owner of the place -rode away. I waited until he was well out of hearing, when I found my -way to the stables. In the stableyard I saw the man who had brought his -master's horse to the door.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><p>"Is your master at home?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"No sur; missus es."</p> - -<p>"Ah, well, she'll be of no use. She wouldn't know if Mr. Trewint has a -horse for sale."</p> - -<p>On this I entered the stable, and to my delight saw the animal Amelia -Lanteglos had ridden from Endellion, with two others.</p> - -<p>"Maaster 'aant got noan for sale," replied the man. "We're right in the -tealin' time, and oal the hosses be in use."</p> - -<p>"How's that?" I replied; "here are three doing nothing. One of these -would suit me. I can call again when your master will be at home."</p> - -<p>"It'll be no good, sur. Maaster waant be 'ome till laate to-night. He's -gone to St. Austell market, and afore he do git back thaise hosses'll be -gone. They'll be out of the staable by haalf-past nine this ev'nin'. -I've got oaders to saddle 'em at that time."</p> - -<p>I seemed to be in luck's way. By pure chance, so it seemed to me, I had -found out the whereabouts of Mistress Nancy and her companions, and had -also discovered their destination. So without asking more questions I -left Penhale, and then walked back to St. Stephen's along a footpath -which led by a farm called Tolgarrick, and the Manor House of Resugga.</p> - -<p>I formed my plan of action. I would be even with Uncle Anthony for the -trick he had played me, and I would take the maid Nancy to Peter -Trevisa's house, for both had angered me. And yet even at this time my -heart revolted against the course I had marked out.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p><p>By nine o'clock that night I stood outside Penhale with Chestnut by my -side. I chose a sheltered position, and I felt sure that no one knew I -was there. I waited anxiously, and watched the stable doors closely. -Half-past nine came, and I grew anxious; ten o'clock passed, and all was -silent as the grave. Had the groom deceived me? Had Uncle Anthony -discovered my visit and formed new plans accordingly.</p> - -<p>Bidding Chestnut stand still, I crept cautiously towards the stables. A -few seconds later I saw to my chagrin that I had been outwitted. The -horses I had seen in the morning had gone.</p> - -<p>"Never mind," I said grimly, "I'll not give up yet."</p> - -<p>I mounted Chestnut and rode westward in the direction in which I thought -St. Mawgan lay; but I had not gone far when I again came to a -standstill. If Uncle Anthony had suspected me, and changed the time of -his departure, might he not also alter his plans completely? Besides, -even though he intended going to the old chapel at St. Mawgan, it was -impossible for me to find it that night. Clouds had obscured the sky, -and I was ignorant of the country. At eleven o'clock, therefore, I drew -up at an inn at a village called Summercourt, disappointed and angry. -Here I decided to remain for the night.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV.</span> <span class="smaller">THE HAUNTED CHAPEL OF ST. MAWGAN.</span></h2> - -<p>I had fully intended to be up betimes on the morning following my -arrival at Summercourt, and although I gave the landlord of the inn no -instructions to call me, I had no doubt but that I should wake early. So -tired was I, however, and so much had my rest been broken, that it was -past midday before I was aroused from the deep sleep into which I had -fallen. Consequently it was well on in the afternoon before I started -for St. Mawgan. I knew that the parish was largely under Catholic -influence. The Arundel family owned a house there, but I had no idea as -to the whereabouts of the chapel. This could only be discovered by -searching, and, impatient with myself for losing so much time, I rode -rapidly past St. Columb, and reached St. Mawgan just as the shades of -evening were descending. I should, doubtless, have accomplished the -journey more quickly if I had not missed my way and wandered several -miles out of my course. Arrived at the parish church, however, I found -that my difficulties had only just begun. I was afraid to make too many -inquiries concerning this chapel, for fear the Killigrews might hear of -my questionings, for, although I had seen no traces of them, I felt sure -they were following Mistress Nancy Molesworth. I found, moreover, that -the few people in the parish were anything but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>intelligent, and could -give no information of value. At length, after much searching and many -roundabout inquiries, I heard of a haunted dell about a mile and a half -from St. Mawgan, where the devil was said to reside.</p> - -<p>An old farm labourer gave me the information, and with much earnestness -besought me to keep away from it.</p> - -<p>"The devil 'ave allays come there, sur," remarked the old man. "Tes a -very low place. Tes a 'olla (hollow) between two 'oods. The papist -priests ded kip un off while they was 'lowed to live there, but since -the new religion tho'ull Sir Nick have jist done wot 'ee's a mind to."</p> - -<p>"How did the papist priest keep him off?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Well, sur, they ded build a chapel here, and they ded turn the well ov -water, where the devil made hell broth, into good clain watter. 'Twas a -'oly well when they wos there, sur, so I've been tould. But law, sence -the priests be gone he've gone there to live again, and I've 'eerd as -how ee've bin zid in the chapel."</p> - -<p>"Have you seen him?"</p> - -<p>"I wudden, sur, for worlds; but, Jimmy Jory zid un, sur."</p> - -<p>"And what did he look like?"</p> - -<p>"Jist like a wrinkled-up ould man, sur."</p> - -<p>"And which is the way to this chapel?"</p> - -<p>"'Tis down there, sur," replied the old man, pointing southward; "but -doan't 'ee go nist the plaace, sur, doan't 'ee. 'Tis gittin' dark, an -'ee'l zoon be out now."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>Unwittingly the old labourer had confirmed the words of Mr. Trewint at -Penhale. Evidently a hermit did live at the ruined chapel. Probably he -was one of the few remaining anchorites which were yet to be found in -the county. One of those who, tired of the world, had sought solitude, -even as the last heir of the Tregarricks had sought it, when he built -St. Michael's Chapel on Roche Rock.</p> - -<p>Unmindful, therefore, of the old man's warnings, I found my way down the -valley. The wooded hills sloped up each side of me, which so obscured -the evening light that I had difficulty in finding my way. The place -seemed terribly lonely, I remember; no sound broke the stillness save -the rippling of a little stream of water which ran towards the sea, and -the occasional soughing of the wind among the trees.</p> - -<p>Once, as I stood still and listened, it seemed to me that the very -silence made a noise, and a feeling of terror came over me, for the old -labourer's stories became real. My mission, too, seemed to be more -foolish at each step I took, and in the stillness I seemed to hear -voices bidding me return. Nature had given me strong nerves, however, -and presently the spirit of adventure got hold of me again, and then I -pushed on merrily. I had gone perhaps a mile from St. Mawgan when I saw, -in spite of the gathering darkness, a distinct footpath leading -southward. This I followed, although the valley became darker and -darker. By and by, however, it ended in a little green amphitheatre. -This I judged to be about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> ten yards across, and the only outlet was the -pathway by which I had just come. The little open space, however, was a -relief to me, because the evening light was not altogether shut out, and -I looked eagerly around me in the hope that I had arrived at the spot -for which I had been searching.</p> - -<p>Twice did I wander around the green spot, but the trees which grew -around were so thick that I could discover nothing beyond them.</p> - -<p>"It must be all an idle tale," I mused bitterly, "and I've been a dupe -to silly stories. Why should I trouble more? I'll go back to the inn at -St. Mawgan, get Chestnut saddled, and start for London to-morrow"; but -even as the thought passed through my mind, I saw a dark bent form creep -along the grass, and then was hidden from me by the thick undergrowth.</p> - -<p>Without hesitation I made my way to the spot where the dark object had -disappeared, and then saw a slight clearage in the bushes, which had -before escaped my attention. A few seconds later I had entered another -open place, but it was smaller than the other, and situated at the foot -of the rising ground. I again looked around me, but could see nothing, -and was musing as to the course I should take, when I heard a slight -groan. I hurried to the spot from whence the sound came, drawing my -sword as I did so. I did not go far, however, for I saw, almost hidden -by the trees, a dark building.</p> - -<p>"Hallo!" I cried aloud.</p> - -<p>But there was no answering voice.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>"There is some one here," I said; "speak, or I fire."</p> - -<p>"What would you, Roger Trevanion?" said a strange voice.</p> - -<p>I must confess that my heart gave a bound as I heard my own name in this -lonely place, but I quickly mastered myself.</p> - -<p>"I would see you," I replied.</p> - -<p>"You cannot see spirits of just men made perfect," was the reply. "They -can see you while they remain invisible."</p> - -<p>"We will see," I replied. "I have flint and steel here. I will light up -this place, then perchance I shall find that the living as well as the -dead inhabit the place."</p> - -<p>I heard a low murmuring, then the voice replied: "Trouble not yourself, -Roger Trevanion, there shall be light," and in a few seconds, as if by -magic, a small lamp shone out in the darkness, revealing several -objects, which at first I could not understand. As my eyes became -accustomed to the darkness, I discovered a rude table on which stood a -crucifix; on the walls too, rough and unplastered as they were, I saw -pictures of a religious order. But my attention was drawn from other -objects by a pallet bed which lay in the corner of the room, on which a -human body lay.</p> - -<p>"Uncle Anthony," I cried, not that I recognized him, but the name came -involuntarily to my lips.</p> - -<p>"Why are you here, Roger Trevanion?" asked a voice which I detected as -Uncle Anthony's.</p> - -<p>"Nay, rather, why are you here?" I cried; "and where is Mistress Nancy -Molesworth?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>"She is where you will never reach her," he replied, bitterly I -thought, and yet in a feeble tone of voice.</p> - -<p>"What mean you?" I cried, and then I saw that his head was bandaged.</p> - -<p>"I mean that through your faithlessness"—he hesitated as though he knew -not how to proceed.</p> - -<p>"The Killigrews!" I cried.</p> - -<p>"Ay."</p> - -<p>"They overtook you?"</p> - -<p>"Nay, they came here. I did my best, but what was I against three? Once -I thought we should have beaten them, for Mistress Nancy wounded one of -them sorely."</p> - -<p>"But where are they gone? Which way did they take her?"</p> - -<p>"Doubtless to Endellion. Why I tell you this I know not. Had you been -faithful this need not have been."</p> - -<p>"Tell me the whole story," I said at length.</p> - -<p>"Why should I? But it doth not matter now. You can do her no harm, -neither can you save her from the Killigrews. Well, perchance it is -God's will. They are of the true faith, and—and you know most of the -story, Roger Trevanion. You followed us to Penhale; the maid saw you, -and so we left the house earlier than we had intended, and by a road -through the fields. We reached this spot in safety, but they found us. -Otho was with them, and, well, I am no fighter,—I did my best, but they -took her. I—I am wounded in the head—a sword cut."</p> - -<p>Why I knew not, but my heart seemed a hot fire.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p><p>"And is Mistress Nancy gone with these three Killigrews—alone?"</p> - -<p>"Her serving-maid, Amelia, cried out to go with her, and they took her."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" I cried, relieved.</p> - -<p>He gave me details of the struggle, which I need not write down here, -and which I thought, in spite of the fact that he seemed to hide the -truth, told that he had fought well.</p> - -<p>"And did not this hermit help you?"</p> - -<p>"Michael is weaker than a child," replied Anthony, "he did nothing but -pray."</p> - -<p>"And how long since this took place?"</p> - -<p>"Four hours ago."</p> - -<p>"Four hours!—only?"</p> - -<p>"That is all."</p> - -<p>"They can be followed, she can be delivered!"</p> - -<p>"No, no," murmured Uncle Anthony; "tell me, Roger Trevanion, why would -you deliver her?"</p> - -<p>"Because, because!——" then I stopped, I could not formulate the -thought in my mind. "Did she go willingly?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Nay," cried the old man bitterly, "I—I think they gagged her; they -bound her to her horse. She cried out sorely while she could, she -struggled—and I—I could do nothing."</p> - -<p>My blood ran through my veins like streams of fire; there were many -questions I wanted to ask, but there was no time. I seemed to see her -struggling with the Killigrews. I pictured her look of loathing as she -talked with them.</p> - -<p>"Trevanion or no Trevanion," I cried, as I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>hurried up the valley, "I'll -strike another blow for the maid's liberty. I know she doth not trust -me; but I'll free her from Otho Killigrew. Some one must have seen -her—I'll follow them. They cannot well get beyond Padstow to-night!"</p> - -<p>A little later I had taken the road which the landlord of the inn at St. -Mawgan had told me led to Padstow. I rode hard till I came to a roadside -inn. It was the first house I had noticed since I had left Mawgan. A -light was shining from one of the windows, and I decided to stop.</p> - -<p>"If they have passed here some one will have seen them," I mused, "and I -must not go farther without inquiry."</p> - -<p>I accordingly dismounted, and called for the landlord. An elderly man -appeared, and in the light of the moon, which had just risen, I saw that -his shoulders were bent, and that he craned his neck forward while he -scanned my face.</p> - -<p>"What'll 'ee plaise to 'ave, sur?" he asked in a wheedling tone of -voice.</p> - -<p>"A bottle of wine," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Iss, to be sure, I'll tell 'em, sur. Your hoss do look flighty, sur. -You wa'ant caare to laive un."</p> - -<p>"He will stand quietly," I replied; "but I'll fasten him to your crook -here. I should not advise you to go near him."</p> - -<p>"You be'ant comin' in, sur, be 'ee?"</p> - -<p>"Just a minute," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Ah iss, to be sure," he answered, leading the way into a dark room.</p> - -<p>"But you have a room with a light here," I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>objected, as he pushed a -candle into a smouldering fire.</p> - -<p>"Iss, sur, but tes used, sur. To tell the truth, sur, for I can zee you -be a gen'leman, my wife's sister is there. She's terble bad weth -small-pox, sur."</p> - -<p>"Small-pox!" I cried aghast.</p> - -<p>"Aw, iss, sur. I doan't go ther' myself, and tes makin' terble 'ard agin -my custom."</p> - -<p>All the while he was pulling out the cork from a bottle of wine.</p> - -<p>"I don't think I'll stay to drink," I said, thinking of the man's -statement about his wife's sister. "Of course I'll pay for it," I added, -noting the look of chagrin on his face.</p> - -<p>"You be a rail gen'leman," he remarked, as I threw down a guinea.</p> - -<p>"Have you been away from the house to-day?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"No, sur."</p> - -<p>"Have you noticed a party on horseback ride by this afternoon?"</p> - -<p>"What time would it be, sur?"</p> - -<p>"About four o'clock, I should imagine."</p> - -<p>"No, sur, there ain't no party of no sort gone long 'ere."</p> - -<p>"You are quite sure?"</p> - -<p>"Iss, sur. Be you lookin' out for a party, sur?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied, "but I must have been misinformed."</p> - -<p>"How many was in the party, sur?"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Well, Bill Bennetto, Maaster Veryan's hind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> was over here little while -ago, and he zaid as ow 'ee'd zeed a party of five ride through St. Eval. -Ther' wos three gentlemen and two laadies, sur. They wos ridin' 'ard for -Padstow, 'ee zaid."</p> - -<p>"What time was this?"</p> - -<p>"'Bout fower a clock, sur. Praps that was the lot you was wantin'."</p> - -<p>"How far is it from here to Padstow."</p> - -<p>"Oa ten or twelve mile, I shud think."</p> - -<p>"A straight road?"</p> - -<p>"Aw, iss, you can't miss et."</p> - -<p>Glad to get out of the house infected with small-pox, I contented myself -with this information, and a few seconds later I was on Chestnut's back -again, riding northward. I had gone only a short distance, however, when -I came to a junction of roads. Here a difficulty presented itself, for I -knew not which way to take.</p> - -<p>"What did the fellow mean by telling me it was a straight road?" I -grumbled angrily, and then it struck me suddenly that he seemed very -anxious for me to leave his house. I looked eagerly around me in the -hope of getting out of my difficulty, but it was a lonely place, and no -houses were in sight. Presently, however, I saw a light shining, and -making my way towards it, discovered a cottage.</p> - -<p>"Which is the way to Padstow?" I asked of a man who held a lantern in -his hand, and who evidently lived at the cottage.</p> - -<p>"Dunnaw, sur, I be sure. I speck the best way will be for 'ee to go to -Little Petherick and inquire."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p><p>"Is it a straight road?"</p> - -<p>"Lor bless 'ee, sur, no. 'Tes as crooked as a dog's hind leg."</p> - -<p>I wondered at this, and asked the man if he knew the landlord of the -Farmer's Rest.</p> - -<p>"Aw, iss I do knaw un, sur."</p> - -<p>"What kind of a man is he?"</p> - -<p>"A littlish man, with a long neck like a gander, and sharp eyes like a -rat."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know, but is he a respectable man!"</p> - -<p>"Iss, 'ee've saved a braavish bit of money. I do 'ear as how 'ee've got -vour hundred in Tura Bank."</p> - -<p>"His wife's sister has small-pox, hasn't she?"</p> - -<p>"What do 'ee main, sur?"</p> - -<p>I repeated my question.</p> - -<p>"Why, bless 'ee, sur, his wife aan't got no sister. She's Jenny Johnses -onnly darter. As fur small-pox, I never 'eerd tell o' noan."</p> - -<p>Giving the man a piece of money, I rode back towards the Farmer's Rest -again. Evidently the landlord had been purposely deceiving me. Why? My -heart thumped loudly against my ribs, for I had grave suspicion that he -desired to hide something from me. I made my way very quietly to the -house. If he had reasons for deceiving me, it behoved me to be careful. -I saw that the light still shone from the window of the room in which -the landlord said his wife's sister lay. Telling Chestnut to stand -still, I crept silently towards the house. I saw that the door was -closed, and although I listened intently I could hear no sound. Placing -my hand on the door handle, I was about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> to try and open it, when I saw -a woman come from a building close by which was evidently used as a -washhouse. She did not see me, neither did she come to the front door at -which I stood. As far as I could judge, she was making her way to the -yard at the back of the inn.</p> - -<p>"Surely," I thought, "that is Amelia Lanteglos."</p> - -<p>I started to follow her, when, the girl hearing my step turned around, -and I saw that I was right.</p> - -<p>"Amelia," I whispered.</p> - -<p>"Good Lord, sur, is that you?" was her answer.</p> - -<p>"Yes, where is your mistress?"</p> - -<p>"Aw, I be glad, I be glad," she sobbed, "we've 'ad a terble time, sur—a -terble time."</p> - -<p>"Is your mistress ill?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"She'll go mazed zoon."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>She looked anxiously around, and then turned towards me again.</p> - -<p>"Ther's nobody harkenin', nobody do knaw you be 'ere, sur, do mun?"</p> - -<p>"No one. I called here less than an hour ago, and the landlord told me -that his wife's sister had small-pox. So I rode away, but I found out -that he told me false. That's why I've come back again. No one has seen -me but you."</p> - -<p>"And you be my young missus' friend, be'ant 'ee, sur? You doan't main -she no 'arm."</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Then I'll tell 'ee, sur. She's inside there weth Master Otho."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>I suspected this, so waited for her to proceed.</p> - -<p>"Colman es in the 'ouse too, sur; but 'ee's in bed. Mistress Nancy ded -fire a pistol at un, and 'urt 'es arm. That was when Uncle Anthony was -weth us."</p> - -<p>"But there were three."</p> - -<p>"Iss, sur. Maaster Clement es gone to Padstow."</p> - -<p>"What for."</p> - -<p>"Gone to fetch the priest, sur."</p> - -<p>"Why? To marry Otho to your mistress?"</p> - -<p>The maid sobbed. "She'll go mazed, sur. She's in ther weth Maaster Otho. -You do knaw his way, sur. I believe he'll jist frighten her till she do -marry un."</p> - -<p>"But why did they stop here?"</p> - -<p>"'Twas on account of Mistress Nancy, sur. She made out to faint an like -that, sur, thinkin to gain time. But Maaster Otho can't be aisy bait. He -brought her here, and ded send Clement off for the priest. Besides, -Maaster Colman could hardly sit on the hoss."</p> - -<p>I saw the danger. In the then condition of the marriage laws, the maid -Nancy was practically helpless. If the priest went through a form of -service, even without the maid's assent, Otho could, by means of the -testimony of the landlord of the inn, claim that a legal marriage had -taken place. What was to be done, therefore, would have to be done -quickly.</p> - -<p>"Where are your horses, Amelia?"</p> - -<p>She pointed to the house in which they were stabled.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>"You can saddle them without any one knowing?"</p> - -<p>"Aw, iss sur."</p> - -<p>"Do, then."</p> - -<p>With that I turned towards the front door of the inn again; and I must -here confess that I hugely enjoyed the situation. The love of adventure -was strong upon me, and I laughed at the thought of thwarting the -Killigrews. I owed the landlord a debt for deceiving me. I therefore -went to the spot where I had left Chestnut, and, having taken some stout -cord from my saddlebag, came back, and, on trying to open the door, -found it barred. Then I knocked sharply.</p> - -<p>"Who's there?" It was Boundy, the landlord, who spoke.</p> - -<p>"Come, Boundy," I cried, "open the door quick; there's no time to lose."</p> - -<p>"Es that you, sur?" he responded, and immediately drew back the bolts. -No sooner had he done so than I caught him and dragged him outside.</p> - -<p>"Make a sound, and you are a dead man!" I said, in a whisper.</p> - -<p>Something in my voice, I suppose, told him that I meant what I said, for -he made no sound, neither did he struggle when I bound him hand and -foot. He was no stronger than a lad of twelve, and very little heavier. -I therefore took him to the stables, where Amelia Lanteglos had gone.</p> - -<p>"Amelia," I said, "here's the landlord. You need not be afraid. He's -bound. But if he makes a noise, stuff some hay in his mouth."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>The girl grasped the situation in a second. "Oal right, sur," she said -with a grin, and I knew I could trust her. Then I went back and entered -the inn, closing the door after me, and silently bolting it. I heard the -murmuring of women in the kitchen behind; evidently they knew nothing of -what had taken place. After this I made my way to the room in which Otho -Killigrew had taken Mistress Nancy Molesworth.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XV.</span> <span class="smaller">THE SCENE AT A WAYSIDE INN.</span></h2> - -<p>I was about to knock when I heard the sound of voices.</p> - -<p>"And do you think," I heard a voice say, which I recognized as Mistress -Nancy's, "that although you force me into this marriage, I shall really -be your wife?"</p> - -<p>"Ay, that you will." It was Otho who spoke in his low, mocking way.</p> - -<p>"But I will not be your wife. I despise you, loathe you."</p> - -<p>"That feeling will soon pass away when you are the wife of Otho -Killigrew. You will love me all the more for being so determined to have -you. And I—well, I would a thousand times rather have this than an -ordinary wedding. Clement and Father O'Brien will soon be here. I -thought I heard his voice a few seconds ago."</p> - -<p>"But I will die sooner than wed you!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, I like to see your eyes shine like that. It makes you more -handsome than ever. With me as master, and you as mistress of Restormel, -we shall be much sought after in the county."</p> - -<p>"Is this the act of a gentleman, Otho Killigrew? The very gypsies will -cry out against you as a mean knave."</p> - -<p>"It is the act of a gentleman," replied Otho coolly. "You had every -opportunity to wed me in a way befitting your station, but you would not -have it so. You trusted to a trickster, and thereby sadly compromised -your reputation. Now I must treat you as I am obliged. You should be -thankful that I am willing to wed you after such conduct."</p> - -<p>"I would I had trusted the man you call a trickster!" cried the maid -bitterly, at which it flashed upon me that I was playing the part of an -eavesdropper. True, I felt justified in listening, at the same time I -felt uncomfortable, and was about to knock at the door when his words -arrested me again.</p> - -<p>"Come, Nancy, let us act reasonably. If you will promise to go to -Endellion with me, and wed me there, we will have done with this method -of going on. Let me have a kiss and we will be friends."</p> - -<p>He evidently laid hands on her as he spoke, for the maid cried out. At -this I was unable to control myself, and I pushed the door with so much -vehemence that the rusty hinges gave way, and I entered the room.</p> - -<p>Even at that time I noticed that the apartment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> was bare of all -furniture, save for a few straight-back chairs and a rickety table. -Mistress Nancy stood at one corner of the room, her eyes flashing -fiercely and her face as pale as death. Otho was holding one of her -hands, but on hearing the noise of my entrance had turned his face -angrily towards me.</p> - -<p>I knew I dared not give him time, for doubtless he carried dagger and -pistols, and would use them without hesitation. I therefore leapt upon -him, and in a second we were engaged in a mad struggle. As for the maid, -she gave another cry which I thought told of her joy at my coming.</p> - -<p>Maddened, desperate as he was, I soon discovered that I had not his -brother Benet to deal with. He availed himself of all sorts of -wrestler's tricks, and tried to use his knife, but it was no use. In a -few seconds I had thrown him heavily on the floor. He lay stunned, but -this I knew would not be for long.</p> - -<p>"Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said, turning panting to the maid, "will -you trust me now?"</p> - -<p>She looked piteously into my face. "Dare I?" she cried; "I am all alone, -I have no one to help me. I would rather die than wed him," and she gave -a look of loathing towards Otho. "May I trust you?"</p> - -<p>"You may," I said eagerly, and at that moment I felt a joy in -sacrificing Trevanion rather than carrying out Peter Trevisa's wishes. -"As God is above us, I will take you wherever you wish to go, and I give -my life to see that no harm happens to you!" and this I said like one -compelled,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> for my words seemed to be dragged from me by some wondrous -power which the maid possessed.</p> - -<p>She caught my hand eagerly. Her eyes seemed to burn like live coals, and -as I thought she looked into the very depth of my life.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I will trust you," she cried, "and I will bless you forever. But -can you take me away. These men seem to have friends everywhere."</p> - -<p>"I can, and I will," I cried eagerly, for at that time my heart was hot, -and I felt no weakness. "Come quickly," I continued, "I have prepared my -plans." Then turning around I saw two women in the room, evidently the -landlord's wife and a servant-maid.</p> - -<p>"What do 'ee main? who be you?" screamed one of the women.</p> - -<p>But I took no heed. Mistress Nancy caught some clothing which she had -thrown on the table, and although the woman tried to bar the doorway, I -led her out. All this time Otho had been lying on the floor like one -dead.</p> - -<p>I went to the door which I had bolted, and was about to open it, but I -desisted, for I heard the clatter of horses' hoofs. For a moment my -heart sank within me; I felt sure that Colman Killigrew had returned -with the priest. If that were so, I should be one against many. The maid -Nancy had also heard the noise, for her face was piteous to behold.</p> - -<p>"'Tis they, 'tis they," she cried. "Oh, you will not let me fall into -their hands, will you?"</p> - -<p>It was then that I realized the secret of my heart. At that moment I -knew that Mistress<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> Nancy Molesworth was all the world to me, and that -all my vows never to care for a woman again were no more than the chaff -which the wind drives away. My blood was on fire, and I vowed that all -the Killigrews on earth should not take her from me.</p> - -<p>"No, by God, no!" I cried, "they shall not get you."</p> - -<p>My words seemed to give her confidence, for she became calmer and steady -again.</p> - -<p>"Give me a pistol," she said, "I will help you."</p> - -<p>At that moment there was a sound of knocking at the door.</p> - -<p>"Let us in!" cried a voice, which I recognized as Clement's, and the -landlord's wife rushed towards the door. Ill as I like to touch a woman -I felt I must not hesitate, and so with no gentle hand I threw her -against the door, whereupon she went into violent hysterics. As for the -servant, she went into the backyard screaming. Seeing a key in the door, -I quickly turned it, and placed it in my pocket.</p> - -<p>"Come, we can follow the servant-maid," I said to Mistress Nancy, but at -that moment Otho Killigrew staggered towards us, with his knife -uplifted. I struck him a cruel blow, but it could not be helped, and -again he fell heavily. Seeing the barrel of a pistol gleaming from his -belt, I took it from him and gave it to the maid. She took it without a -word, and I knew by the light in her eyes that she meant to use it.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Clement Killigrew kept beating the door, and I knew that he -would ere long succeed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> in breaking it down. It is true I had cocked my -pistol, while Mistress Nancy held hers ready to shoot, but I knew not -how many were outside, so I dared not wait. I therefore took the dear -maid's hand and led her into the yard.</p> - -<p>"Amelia," I cried.</p> - -<p>"Here you be, sur."</p> - -<p>I hurried towards her, and found two horses saddled.</p> - -<p>"Mount, mount," I cried quickly, "they'll be after us."</p> - -<p>"No, they waan't," retorted Amelia, "I've turned all the other horses -out in the field."</p> - -<p>"And where's Boundy?"</p> - -<p>"Lyin' inside there, weth his mouth chucked vull of hay."</p> - -<p>In spite of our danger, I could not help laughing aloud.</p> - -<p>By this time they had both mounted, and as yet no one had followed us -into the yard.</p> - -<p>"There's another way down to the road," cried Amelia, "it'll bring us -out furder down. Where's yore oss, sur?"</p> - -<p>"He's all right. You are a clever girl, Amelia." This I said while we -went silently down the cart track under the trees.</p> - -<p>On reaching the road I gave a low whistle, and in a second I heard the -clatter of hoofs, as Chestnut came towards me. He gave a whinney as he -saw me, but before I could mount I heard a bullet whiz by me, and strike -hazel bushes on the top of the hedge. Then I saw Clement Killigrew and -the priest coming towards us. Great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> as was my longing to stop and meet -these men, I deemed it prudent to get away as quickly as possible. A new -fear had come into my life, a fear that they should harm the maid Nancy. -I sprang to the stirrup therefore, and before I was fairly on Chestnut's -back he started into a gallop. I checked him for fear I should leave my -companions behind, but I need not have feared. Their horses kept neck to -neck with mine. For a time I could hear no one following, but presently -the sound of horses' hoofs rang out in the night air.</p> - -<p>I stopped and listened. "There is only one horse," I said, and as I -spoke the sound ceased. Again we rode on, and again I could hear the -following horseman; a mile or so farther on we pulled up a second time, -and as soon as we stopped our pursuer also stopped.</p> - -<p>"What is the meaning of that, I wonder?" I said aloud. "We have been -riding more slowly and he has not gained upon us. When we stop he -follows our example. What does it mean?"</p> - -<p>"It is Clement," said Mistress Nancy; "he will have got his orders from -Otho."</p> - -<p>"But why does he not seek to overtake us?"</p> - -<p>"It would not suit his purpose," cried she; "he dare not come too close -to us. He will be afraid. He knows you have pistols. His purpose will be -to keep us in sight and mark where we go."</p> - -<p>"But what good will that do him?"</p> - -<p>"When he thinks we are safely housed, he will send for help."</p> - -<p>"But how?"</p> - -<p>"The Killigrews have followers all around in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> this part of the country," -she said. "They have friends unknown to you."</p> - -<p>"But we will ride right on to the west of the country, where Hugh -Boscawen is raising men against the enemies of the King."</p> - -<p>"Even there he will have friends. Clement is almost as cunning as Otho."</p> - -<p>"I will go back and fight him," I said quietly. "We will soon be rid of -him."</p> - -<p>"He will know of your coming, and will ride away from you. If you follow -him he will lead you into some trap."</p> - -<p>"But we must be rid of him," I cried; "we shall not be safe while he -follows."</p> - -<p>Then the maid held her peace, but I knew she greatly feared Clement -Killigrew. At this I became anxious, for, truth to tell, I felt awkward -and helpless now. I dared not make other suggestions, because I believed -that in spite of what she had said she still failed to trust me. Then I -had cared little about her good opinion concerning me, now I would dare -anything to win her smile. I determined that no harm should come to her, -for my heart yearned for her, even as the heart of a mother must yearn -for her first-born son. I looked at her as she rode by my side, and in -the light of the moon I could discern every feature. Pale she was and -anxious, but to me her face was glorious beyond compare. I saw -resolution, foresight, a nobleness in her every movement, but all this -made her further removed from me. In the light of my new-found love she -became a new creature. All my being went out to her, all my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> life I was -ready to lay at her feet. I remembered what I had said on Roche Rock—I -had told her that I cared for no woman, that she was nothing to me but -the veriest stranger. I would have given anything to have recalled those -words, but it could not be. I thought of what I had promised Peter -Trevisa, and I was filled with shame. I tried to drive the promise from -my mind, but it had been made.</p> - -<p>All this made me silent and awkward, and I rode by her side eager to -save her from the Killigrews, yet distrusting myself sorely.</p> - -<p>And yet with my love, painful as it was, came joys unknown to me before. -Never till then had I realized what a gladness it was to live, to think, -to act. The road on which I rode became a scene of beauty, the country -air scented with the perfume of spring seemed to me like a breath from -Paradise, the murmuring of the sea in the distance made heaven near. So -much, indeed, did I live in the thought of my love, and of what she -would think of me, that for the moment I forgot that Clement Killigrew -was following us, as a sleuth-hound follows his prey. In my heart I -called her my lady Nancy, and wondered what I could do to make her think -better of me. For I could not help feeling that she had turned to me as -a last resource, and that even now, should John Polperro appear, she -would immediately dispense with my services. Although I hated this -thought, I could not blame her for it, for who was I that she should -trust me? I remembered, too, that since we left the inn her words to me -had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> cool and distant, as though she were ashamed of her emotion at -the time when I found her in the room with Otho Killigrew.</p> - -<p>I was recalled to myself at length by Amelia Lanteglos, who said with a -laugh:</p> - -<p>"Ours be good 'osses, be'ant 'em, sur?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied; "I did not think Uncle Anthony could find such good -ones among the moors."</p> - -<p>"Thaise be'ant Uncle Anthony's. These belong to the Killigrews. The one -I do ride belonged to Maaster Otho, 't'other to Maaster Coleman."</p> - -<p>"Good," I cried, thinking what a quick-witted girl she was. "You are a -clever maid, Amelia."</p> - -<p>"I ain't a-lived 'mong the Killigrews for nothin'!" she said; "besides -I'd do anything for Mistress Nancy."</p> - -<p>Her mistress did not speak, but I noted the look she gave her.</p> - -<p>"He es still follin'," continued Amelia; "we shall 'ave to do summin -zoon. What time es et, I wonder?"</p> - -<p>"About nine o'clock, I expect," I replied. "Ah! yonder is light. I -wonder if it is a kiddleywink?"</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked Mistress Nancy.</p> - -<p>"I hope it is," I replied, for at that moment a plan flashed through my -mind.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later we rode up to a little hamlet consisting of four -houses, one of which was a public house.</p> - -<p>"We will dismount here," I said.</p> - -<p>"To what purpose?" asked Mistress Nancy.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p><p>"I have a plan in my mind," I replied.</p> - -<p>"But if we stop here Clement will act."</p> - -<p>"So will I."</p> - -<p>She spoke no word but dismounted, while I called the landlord.</p> - -<p>"Have you stabling for three horses?" I asked when he appeared.</p> - -<p>"Jist," was his reply.</p> - -<p>"And a room into which these ladies can go; a private room?"</p> - -<p>"Aw, iss, sur. Ther's the pa'lor. They ca' go in theer."</p> - -<p>"Very well." I quickly saw them in the room, and having ordered -refreshments for them I left. I felt as though Mistress Nancy did not -desire my company, and I determined not to force it upon her. Then I -hurried to the stables, where the three horses had been put.</p> - -<p>"Have you a lock to the stable door?" I asked of the man who had taken -care of the horses.</p> - -<p>"Law no, sur; we doan't want no locks. Ther's jist a hasp to kip the -door from blawin' open."</p> - -<p>"Are there no highwaymen or horse-stealers in these parts?"</p> - -<p>"We ain't a 'ad a 'oss stailed for 'ears," was the reply.</p> - -<p>"Well, keep your eye on that stable," I said sternly. "If anything -happens to those horses, you'll be hanged."</p> - -<p>"I'll mind, sur," replied the man; "nobody shall tich 'em. Nobody shall -go into the stable but me;" and I knew by the look of dogged -determination on his face that he meant what he said.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p><p>At this moment I heard the clatter of hoofs, and I hurried into the -house. I saw the landlord go to the door, and heard him say to the -horseman: "No sur, you can't stable yer 'oss. A party 'ave jist come, -sur, and I've only room for dree 'osses."</p> - -<p>"Well, all right," said Clement Killigrew in tones scarcely above a -whisper, "fasten him here to the crook at the door, 'twill be just as -well. I suppose I can have a bottle of wine. By the way, do not let the -other party know I have come here."</p> - -<p>"No, sur, I wa'ant let em knaw, but I a'ant got no wine. A jug of good -ale, sur."</p> - -<p>"All right, that will do;" then he said something in low tones to the -landlord, which I did not hear.</p> - -<p>"All right, sur," I heard the innkeeper say in reply. "I'll 'tend to et, -sur; but you'll 'ave to go into the kitchen among the farmers-men, the -palor is okkipied."</p> - -<p>There was no reply to this, and then Clement Killigrew went into the -kitchen.</p> - -<p>Without hesitation I entered the room after him. All had happened as I -expected. He had followed us to the inn, he had come in quietly, he had -made arrangements with the landlord to take a message to some one near -with whom he doubtless had influence, and now he would wait until help -came. Then he would try and recapture Mistress Nancy and take her back -to Endellion. Consequently, I determined to act at once. My purpose was -to go into the room,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> and as soon as possible quarrel with him. I knew -that the Killigrews never brooked an insult, and I thought that by -careful management I should lead him to challenge me. This done, I hoped -to disable him and then continue our journey before help could come. By -so doing I should escape his espionage, and in a few hours be out of his -reach.</p> - -<p>He gave a start as I swaggeringly entered the room; but quickly appeared -composed. Some half-dozen labourers were there, with their jugs of beer -before them, and all seemed awed at the advent of two gentlemen with -swords by their sides and pistols in their belts. Clement Killigrew was -standing in front of the fire, for although the spring was upon us the -nights were cold.</p> - -<p>"Ill-mannered knave," I said, striding up to him, "what do you mean by -standing in front of the fire?"</p> - -<p>He looked at me angrily, and seemed about to answer back according to -the manner of my address; but controlling his feelings he stood aside.</p> - -<p>"I ask your pardon," he said politely, "it was very rude of me to keep -the fire from the rest of the company."</p> - -<p>"It was rude," I replied, "and none but a varlet would do it."</p> - -<p>"I have expressed my apologies," was his response.</p> - -<p>"Words are cheap," I said; "still, I suppose that is all you are able to -give."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I will give more than words," he replied,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> and on this I grasped -the hilt of my sword, for I hoped that I had aroused him to fight, but -my hopes were short-lived. "I will be glad to pay for a glass of brandy -grog for each of these good fellows," he said blandly.</p> - -<p>The men murmured their pleasure. "A rail gen'leman," they said, looking -at him with admiration, while they regarded me with angry scowls.</p> - -<p>So far he had the best of the encounter. Evidently he had determined to -avoid a quarrel. Perhaps he was afraid of me, perhaps he thought it wise -to refrain from fighting.</p> - -<p>"This man seeks to buy your friendship," I said loudly. "I will tell you -what he is—he is one of two things. Either a common highway robber, or -a coward. If he be the first, let him fight—or I will take him to the -nearest magistrate; if he is the second, you ought to drum him out of -the house."</p> - -<p>"I am not a highway robber," he replied blandly. "To prove it I am -perfectly willing to go with you and these gentlemen to the nearest -magistrate; put it down then that I am a coward."</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said, "you are a coward, all the Killigrews are."</p> - -<p>Again his eyes flashed, and this time he placed his hand on the butt end -of his pistol. On looking at me, however, he again assumed a bland -expression.</p> - -<p>"You have given me a name, sir, and you have called me a coward. Well, -have your own way. The truth is, although I am travelling in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>civilian's -attire, I hope soon to be ordained a priest. For the present, therefore, -I am under a vow not to fight."</p> - -<p>"A rail gen'leman, a rail gen'leman," murmured the men.</p> - -<p>"An arrant coward," I cried.</p> - -<p>"I think," said Clement to the landlord, who had entered, "that your -drink must be very strong here. This gentleman must be drunk."</p> - -<p>This gave me my chance, and I was about to strike him in the face, when -I heard Amelia's voice outside.</p> - -<p>"Come, sir, quick."</p> - -<p>I left the room, while the men gave a loud guffaw at my supposed -discomfiture.</p> - -<p>"Git the 'osses out quick, sir," cried the maid.</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Do as she tells you," said Mistress Nancy.</p> - -<p>"He'll ride after us as before," I objected.</p> - -<p>"No he wa'ant, not fur," cried Amelia.</p> - -<p>I did as they suggested, and when I had paid the landlord I prepared to -mount. I was still in the dark why Mistress Nancy had suggested this -course of procedure, but it was for her to command and me to obey. I -kept my eyes steadily on the front door while my two companions mounted. -I thought I saw Clement Killigrew come out, but was not sure.</p> - -<p>"Ride on quickly out of pistol range," I said to them, then I walked -backward by Chestnut's side for twenty or thirty yards, all the time -holding my pistol in my right hand. No one following, I placed my foot -in the stirrup and was soon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>galloping down the road. We had not gone -far when I heard the sound of hoofs behind us.</p> - -<p>"He's again following us," I said bitterly.</p> - -<p>"He wa'ant come fur!" said Amelia with a laugh; so I turned to her, -asking what she meant.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI.</span> <span class="smaller">WHY I TOOK MISTRESS NANCY TO TREVISCOE.</span></h2> - -<p>Amelia did not immediately answer my question, but continued to laugh -like one in high spirits. "He wa'ant come fur!" she repeated; and after -we had gone on, it may have been a mile or two, I stopped and listened -again, and this time there were no following footsteps.</p> - -<p>"Now we must ride quick," said the maid.</p> - -<p>"How! what use will it be?" I asked almost angrily. "Clement's horse -will be as good as either of yours."</p> - -<p>"Iss, but his hoss is drunk!" laughed Amelia.</p> - -<p>"Drunk?" I cried.</p> - -<p>"Iss, drunk. When I zeed you go into the kitchen, and tried to git into -a row weth Maaster Clement, I minded a trick I once seed at Endellion -Church town. So I tould the chap that took your 'osses to draw me a -gallon of beer. He axed me questions 'bout et, but I knawed 'ow to git -over 'ee."</p> - -<p>"And did the horse drink it?"</p> - -<p>"Drink et! I shud think he ded. He wos thusty and sooped up every drap. -Aw I shud like to see un now;" and the maid laughed again.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>In spite of everything I joined her. It was purely a village girl's -trick, and well carried out. A thirsty horse will drink a quantity of -beer, and generally a few minutes after becomes light-headed and unable -to walk straight.</p> - -<p>"You are a clever girl, Amelia," I said again, "and you are right in -saying we must ride quickly. Clement will find out the trick, and will -follow us on foot."</p> - -<p>"We've got the wind in our back," she replied, "zo ef we git a mile or -so ahead, the sound of our 'osses wa'ant reach he."</p> - -<p>So we rode hard until we came to Summercourt. Here there were several -branch roads, and so far as I could see no one was stirring. Even -although Clement followed on foot, he would have great difficulty in -finding which way we had gone.</p> - -<p>"Which way shall we go?" I asked of Mistress Nancy.</p> - -<p>"Do you think it will be safe for us to go to Polperro?" she asked -hesitatingly.</p> - -<p>"I think so," I replied, although my heart was sore at saying this. -"These Killigrews will know your whereabouts, and as a consequence there -will be no watchers at Polperro."</p> - -<p>"And you will take me there safely?—that is," she continued, as though -she were correcting herself, "you think you can?"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, I can," I replied; "and I will take you whither you will."</p> - -<p>"Then perhaps we had better go there—I know of no other place."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><p>She spoke plaintively, and as I thought hesitatingly. I longed to offer -her a home at Trevanion, but I dared not.</p> - -<p>"It is well," I replied, as cheerfully as I could; "there is just -another matter we may as well settle, however. Shall we ride there on -our horses, or shall we go by water?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" she asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Polperro's house is close to the sea, is it not?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes—that is, I believe so."</p> - -<p>"Well, if we were to ride to Veryan Bay, we could get a boat and sail -from there."</p> - -<p>"And is that a better way?"</p> - -<p>"You shall decide, if you please," was my reply. "From here to Veryan -is, perchance, twelve miles. I do not imagine that the Killigrews would -suspect us of going there; so even if Clement should try and follow us -with another horse, I do not think he would take that course. He would -rather imagine that we should make for Polperro by road."</p> - -<p>She was silent for a few seconds, then she told Amelia to ride behind us -out of earshot. At this my heart fluttered wildly, for I thought she had -something of importance to say to me. For a few minutes we rode side by -side without either speaking a word. The moon had risen high in the -heavens, and many of the clouds had passed away, so I could see her -every feature plainly.</p> - -<p>"Do you wonder," she said presently, "that, in spite of the vow you took -some time ago, I cannot feel as friendly towards you as I would."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p><p>"No," I replied almost sullenly.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you know that my liberty, my happiness, my fortune, the whole -future of my life is at stake."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"It is only a few months since I returned from a convent school in -France. My father, I suppose, was a rich man; and I have heard vaguely -that I legally inherit a large property when I am twenty-one. That time -will soon come now. That is why the Killigrews are anxious to marry me -at once. All I have would then become theirs. I have heard, too, that my -property is strictly entailed. But I have been told nothing definite; it -would seem as though all have been in a league to keep the truth from -me. Ever since I returned from school I have been practically a -prisoner. But I am determined to be free!"</p> - -<p>"You shall be free if it is in my power to make it possible," I replied.</p> - -<p>She gave a sharp, searching look, and then went on.</p> - -<p>"I am, as you see, entirely dependent on you."</p> - -<p>I was silent.</p> - -<p>"As far as I know there is but one man in whom I can trust. He—he has -asked me to be his wife. He does not know that I have taken this step." -She said this in a constrained, hesitating way, as though she were -afraid to utter the words.</p> - -<p>"Do you wish to be John Polperro's wife?" I stammered awkwardly. "That -is, would you under ordinary circumstances choose him for your husband? -Is he to you the man above all others?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>"You are a stranger to me," she went on, as though I had not spoken. -"Until that night when you climbed to the housetop at Endellion I had -never seen you, never heard of you. I have no claim on you save the -claim that any gentlewoman who is in trouble has upon a man of honour."</p> - -<p>"Be that as it may," I replied, "all I have and am are at your service. -I will take you whither you will." This I said, I am afraid, with a -sigh, for I realized that after I had taken her to Polperro my work -would be done. I must leave her, perchance never to see her again.</p> - -<p>"I may trust you fully then?"</p> - -<p>"Fully."</p> - -<p>"Then," she said, and her voice became hard and unsympathetic, I -thought, "will you tell me why you came to Endellion? why you tried to -deceive me the first time you spoke to me? why you did not answer me -frankly when we were together with that old man on Roche Rock?"</p> - -<p>Her questions came quickly, and I saw by the way she grasped the bridle -rein that she was much wrought upon. In a second I realized what they -meant. I saw that the moment I told her the truth, even although she -might perforce trust me to take her to Polperro, all possibility of -respect for me would be gone. She would think of me as one who for gain -would have betrayed a woman's confidence, one who was the tool of men -who had bought me for a price. I had given up all idea of taking her to -Treviscoe, but the fact that I had consented to such a bargain must -stamp me in her eyes as a knave. I tried to open<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> my mouth to speak, but -for the moment I could not, and I sat staring into vacancy as though I -were a born fool.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me," she said coldly, "I will not trouble you to answer me. I -have no right to know your secrets or your plans. You have promised to -take me to Polperro, and your name is Trevanion; I will trust to one -bearing your name to do as you have promised. I am sorry to trouble you, -but I am obliged to take advantage of a gentlewoman's claim on a -gentleman, and to ask you to take me to the house of my only friend."</p> - -<p>My heart was heavy, for I saw what her words implied. She would regard -me with less respect than she might regard a paid guide. Although she -had said she would trust me, her heart would doubt me all the time. I -knew by the tones of her voice that when the time of our parting came -she would be glad. She had given me a chance of proving myself an -honourable man, and I had been unable to take advantage of it. -Therefore, although by all laws of chivalry I was bound to serve her, -she would accept that service no longer than she absolutely needed me. -Aye, she would loathe my presence and my service, even although she -could not do without them.</p> - -<p>This I knew was what my silence meant to her, but what would an -explanation mean? The truth would be perhaps worse than the suspicion. -Never did I despise myself as I did then, and I felt as though I dared -not tell her the truth. But this was only for a second. Despise me -though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> she must, I would tell her the whole story. I had at least -repented; whatever my motives had been in the past, they were pure now.</p> - -<p>"Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said, "I will answer the questions you -have asked."</p> - -<p>"No, no," she interrupted. "I have no right to know. I was wrong in -asking. Your secret life can be nothing to me."</p> - -<p>"I must answer your questions nevertheless," I replied. "And you have a -right to know something of the man in whom you trust so much. I shall -probably lose what little confidence you have in me, and certainly all -your respect, but still I must tell you."</p> - -<p>She protested again, in chilling, indifferent tones, but I heeded her -not.</p> - -<p>"You said just now that I was a Trevanion," I said; "well, you spoke -truly, I am a Trevanion." Then sparing myself in no degree, I told her -the plain facts as I have told them here. It was painful to me, painful -as pulling out my eyes, but I felt I would rather she should know all -than that she trust me blindfolded, while all the time she hated to be -obliged to speak to me. During the time I was speaking she made no -response. Our horses walked slowly on (for by this time I imagined we -were entirely away from the Killigrews), and so she heard every word I -uttered. Sometimes I looked at her face, but it revealed nothing to me. -It was as motionless as the face of a statue.</p> - -<p>"That is all," I said when I had finished; "but believe me in this at -least: I did not fully realize<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> what my premise meant, and you cannot -think worse of my conduct than I think myself. I know it was unworthy, -but it shall not turn out to your ill. If it is in the power of man, I -will take you to the place to which you would go."</p> - -<p>"Shall we ride faster?" she said presently.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied, "but which way? Will you go by road or water?"</p> - -<p>"If we go to Veryan, we pass Tresillian, I think you said?"</p> - -<p>"I do not remember saying so, but it is true."</p> - -<p>"Then we will go that way."</p> - -<p>For the next few miles we rode rapidly, neither speaking a word, but -presently she slackened her horse's pace.</p> - -<p>"How far is Tresillian from here?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"About one mile."</p> - -<p>"Thank you for being so frank," she said after a few seconds of silence.</p> - -<p>"I know it must be unpleasant for me to be near you," I said bitterly; -"but believe me, I will trouble you no longer than I can help."</p> - -<p>"When you have taken me to my destination, what will you do?"</p> - -<p>"I shall start for London."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"There can be nothing left for me in Cornwall. I shall join the King's -standard, and honourably seek my way to fortune."</p> - -<p>"You will lose your home, the home of your fathers?"</p> - -<p>"It must be."</p> - -<p>"You say that—that man gave you money."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, but he will be amply recouped. All the same, I shall send him the -amount as soon as I have earned it."</p> - -<p>"What kind of man is he? And what kind of man is—is his son?"</p> - -<p>Again I did not spare myself, indeed I took a sort of savage delight in -describing the two men I had promised to serve.</p> - -<p>"And if you had taken me to Treviscoe, you would claim the deeds. You -would have fulfilled your obligations to them, and the old homestead -would be yours?"</p> - -<p>"Forgive me," I cried, "I did not know I could have become so base," and -indeed at that moment I felt unworthy to ride by her side.</p> - -<p>"Can you think of Trevisa's purpose in wanting to get me there?" she -asked, without seeming to notice my words.</p> - -<p>"I think I told you," I replied bitterly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, but he told you nothing of the means by which he hoped to carry -out his purpose?"</p> - -<p>"No, it was nothing to me. I was desperate, mad. Besides I thought not -of that, and I—I loved adventure."</p> - -<p>"But you give me your sacred promise that you will take me wherever I -desire to go?"</p> - -<p>"You know I do. I despise myself. Believe me, I am not at heart a base -villain, and I am anxious to prove to you how bitterly I repent—what I -bargained to do. I long to break my miserable promise; nay, I shall be -glad to bear the consequences of failing to redeem my pledge to him. -I—I will do anything, suffer anything to carry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> out your purposes." -This I said hesitatingly, because it came to me that I was betraying the -love for her which was burning in my heart.</p> - -<p>"You mean, then, that you will take me wherever I ask you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes!" I said eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Then take me to Treviscoe, to the home of these—these Trevisas."</p> - -<p>I started back aghast. "No, no!" I cried.</p> - -<p>"But you have promised me, promised me on your honour."</p> - -<p>"But—but you do not understand."</p> - -<p>"I understand perfectly."</p> - -<p>"They are both miserable, sensual wretches."</p> - -<p>"You told me that a little while ago. But please take me there."</p> - -<p>"I am sure they have sinister, evil purposes in wishing to get you -there."</p> - -<p>"Most likely, nevertheless I rely on your promises."</p> - -<p>"They will do their utmost to get you into their power. They have no -conscience, no sense of honour."</p> - -<p>"I should judge not. But I will go."</p> - -<p>I looked into her face. Her eyes shone like live coals, her face was as -pale as death, but I could see she was resolute.</p> - -<p>"Very well," I said with a sigh. "I will do as you command me."</p> - -<p>It was now midnight, and we were within two miles of Truro.</p> - -<p>"It is well on to twenty miles from here to Trevisa's place," I said, -"and the roads are bad. To<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> say the least, it is a three hours' journey. -There is a good inn at Truro, and I think you would be safe there. Which -will you do—stay at Truro, or ride direct to Trevisa's?"</p> - -<p>She hesitated a few seconds, then she decided to stay at Truro. I was -glad of this, because I knew she must be very weary. Half an hour later -our horses were in a comfortable stable, while Mistress Nancy Molesworth -sat at the same table with me in one of the best inns in the county.</p> - -<p>"You still wish me to take you to Treviscoe?" I said after we had -partaken of refreshment.</p> - -<p>"Yes. Good-night."</p> - -<p>When I reached my room I pondered long over the events of the day, and -wondered much at the maid Nancy's behaviour, but could not divine her -motives. I determined to take her to Peter Trevisa as she had commanded, -but I was strong in my resolve to watch over her as jealously as a young -mother watches over her first-born child.</p> - -<p>It was past midday when I awoke, and so I hurriedly dressed, wondering -what the woman I had learnt to love would think of me, but when I went -down-stairs I discovered that she had not yet risen. I went to the -stables and examined the horses. They were well fed and groomed, and as -far as I could gather, no one had been there making inquiries concerning -us. This put me at my ease, and when presently Mistress Nancy appeared, -I assured her of her safety.</p> - -<p>About an hour before dark we left Truro, and during our ride she asked -me many questions, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> meaning of which I could not understand. One -thing she insisted on, for which in my heart I thanked her. It was that -we should take my attorney, Mr. Hendy, with us to Treviscoe, for I knew -that Peter Trevisa had a great terror of the law. Accordingly we called -at the old lawyer's house, and asked him to accompany us. He seemed much -surprised at seeing us, and the more was his astonishment when he -discovered that Mistress Nancy went to Treviscoe against my will, for -this he soon discovered. He said but little, however, and rode quietly -with us like a man in a dream.</p> - -<p>"What do you wish me to say to these men, Mistress Molesworth?" I said -to her, when Treviscoe appeared in sight.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," she replied absently.</p> - -<p>"Nothing!"</p> - -<p>"No. That is, say just what you would have said if you had carried out -the purpose with which you started out."</p> - -<p>Her words pierced me like a dagger-thrust, but I said nothing. A few -minutes later we came up to the hall door.</p> - -<p>Was Mr. Trevisa at home?</p> - -<p>"Yes," the servant replied; "old Mr. Trevisa is, but not young Mr. -Peter."</p> - -<p>At this I was glad, but on looking at the maid Nancy's face I saw that -she seemed perfectly indifferent. All the same she held tightly by her -serving-maid's arm.</p> - -<p>Old Peter seemed overjoyed at our appearance.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p><p>"What, Roger, lad!" he cried; "welcome, welcome! I see you've brought a -guest for us too. Ah, she is doubly, trebly welcome. You've come for a -long stay, I trust, Mistress Molesworth. Ah, but you must be tired; I -will order refreshments. Here, Pollizock, you knave, take refreshments -into the dining-hall without delay. I am sorry my Peter is away, but he -will be back to-morrow. I have many things I want to speak to you about, -Mistress Molesworth. You will not desire much company to-night, and -doubtless both Roger and my friend Hendy will want to be jogging as soon -as they've had a bite. Mary Tolgarrick will have many knick-knacks, such -as ladies need, won't you, eh, Mary?"</p> - -<p>"Thank you," replied the maid, her face still set and stern, "but I -bought all that I need in Truro to-day; my maid Amelia will bring them -to me."</p> - -<p>"It is well," sniggered old Peter. "Be at home, my lady. Ah, I wish my -Peter were here! He is always witty and gay. But he is away in your -interest, Mistress Molesworth; he will have many things to tell -you—many things he hath discovered. But my son Peter is wise, very -wise."</p> - -<p>The ladies went out of the room, leaving Lawyer Hendy and myself with -old Peter.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Roger lad," cried the old man, "you are a man. Smart and clever. -You have saved Trevanion for yourself. When my Peter comes back we will -settle the matter legally. Did you have much trouble, my lad? Ah, you -must have played a deep game with the Killigrews."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p><p>I did not reply. I could not. I was too much ashamed. To think that I -had planned to bring a well-born maid into such company, to remember -that forever the woman I loved must think of me as doing this, was to -fill my cup of degradation and misery.</p> - -<p>And yet she had come here of her own free will—aye, she had insisted on -coming after I had told her all. This I could not understand.</p> - -<p>"Have the Killigrews any idea where you have taken their ward, Roger -Trevanion?" asked old Peter presently.</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"No? That is well. Tell me about it, lad?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot to-night; I am not in the humour."</p> - -<p>"Still surly, Roger? Ha, I know you hate to have aught to do with women. -But you will be paid. You have brought her here as you said, and you -shall be well paid, well paid."</p> - -<p>My arms ached to throttle the old wretch. I longed to place my hands -around his skinny neck and choke him, but I did nothing. Then old Peter -began talking to Lawyer Hendy, and I fell to wondering what the end of -the business was to be. That the maid Nancy would fall in with old -Peter's plans, I could not believe; and yet she evidently intended to -stay there. Would she desire me to be near as her protector? What were -her purposes? But the maid's mind was a sealed book to me.</p> - -<p>Presently she appeared again, her face still set, and her eyes burning -with the light of purpose. Old Peter led the way into the dining-hall, -and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> although I could not eat, I took my seat at the table.</p> - -<p>"We shall not need you," said old Peter to the servants; "leave us. We -can talk more freely now," he whined, turning towards us. "Is there -anything I can do for you, Mistress Molesworth?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she replied steadily; "I wish you to fulfil your obligations to -Master Roger Trevanion, and give him the deeds of his estates."</p> - -<p>"When my son Peter comes home everything shall be settled, my dear -lady."</p> - -<p>"They can be settled now, can they not?"</p> - -<p>"It will be difficult. I do not suppose our friend Hendy hath the papers -at hand."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I have them here," replied the lawyer.</p> - -<p>At this I knew not what to say. My mind was torn with conflicting thoughts.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII.</span> <span class="smaller">THE CHARGE OF TREASON.</span></h2> - -<p>Peter Trevisa seemed much chagrined at the course events were taking. -Doubtless he would twist and turn like a fox before fulfilling his -promises; but the maid stood expectant by as the attorney took some -papers from a receptacle and laid them on the table.</p> - -<p>"Everything is in order here," said the old man quietly. "Of course, -certain formalities will have to be complied with, but——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p><p>"I will have none of it!" I cried; "none of it." So saying, I rose to -leave the room.</p> - -<p>"Do you wish me to render you any further service, Mistress Molesworth?" -I continued hastily, "Have you any commands for me?"</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to say," she asked quietly, "that you will not use to your -advantage the means you have obtained in order to——"</p> - -<p>I interrupted her rudely, for truly I was sore distraught.</p> - -<p>"Think not too badly of me," I cried. "I am mean enough, God knows; but -being in the company of a good woman has taught me what a man ought to -be. No, no. I am a beggar—a beggar I will remain until I win my fortune -honourably. Tell me what I can do to serve you?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," she replied, coldly, I thought.</p> - -<p>"You will stay here, then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she replied slowly; "seeing that Mr. Trevisa is so hospitably -inclined, I will remain during the night."</p> - -<p>"Many nights, my fair lady," cried old Peter gaily. "Treviscoe is very -fair demesne, and when my son comes back to-morrow he will make it very -pleasant for you. Ah! Roger knows that it is our joy to help all those -who are sorrowful or oppressed."</p> - -<p>"And is it your desire that I should leave you here?" I asked almost -bitterly.</p> - -<p>"You are sure you will not claim what is your right?" she asked. "Sure -you will not allow Mr. Hendy to establish you at your old home?"</p> - -<p>"I have no home," I cried. "If you do not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> wish me to stay and serve -you, I will ride back to the old place, and, having discharged the -servants, I will leave it forever."</p> - -<p>"Nay, nay, Roger," cried old Peter, yet I saw that his eyes gleamed with -avarice.</p> - -<p>Taking no notice of him I waited for the maid Nancy's answer. "Do you -wish me to remain near you?" I repeated.</p> - -<p>"No," she answered; "but I should like Mr. Hendy to stay for an hour or -so if he will."</p> - -<p>"Then I am dismissed?" I said rudely, for my heart was very sore; but -she made no answer, whereupon I turned on my heel, and a few minutes -later was riding towards my old home.</p> - -<p>Old Daniel welcomed me with tearful eyes. I might have been away years -instead of a few days. And yet, as I considered what had happened since -I bade him good-bye, years seemed to have elapsed.</p> - -<p>"Is all well, Daniel?" I asked, after many protestations of joy and -affection on his part.</p> - -<p>"All well, Master Roger; all well. The attorney hath been here much, but -I have no complaints to make. The serving-maids will be rejoiced to see -'ee, sur. They say the 'ouse is so lonely as a church when you be out ov -et. Aw, sur, I be glad to see 'ee."</p> - -<p>I had meant to tell the old man of my plans, but his joy at seeing me -tied my tongue. I did not think the servants cared so much for me, and -this revelation of their affection made it hard for me to tell them that -on the morrow they would have to leave my service and the house which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> -some of them had learnt to love. As a consequence, I determined to delay -the news until the following morning.</p> - -<p>This set me thinking again upon all that had happened, and, as well as I -could, I tried to understand the whole bearing of the case. I had -successfully completed the work I had undertaken, but in so doing I had -changed the whole tenor of my life. I had gone to Endellion a woman -hater; on returning I knew that I had willingly laid my heart at a -woman's feet. I had, on discovering this, abandoned the idea of taking -the maid Nancy to Treviscoe, and she had insisted on going. Why? I -formed many surmises concerning this, but could think of nothing which -satisfied me. The great question, however, was what would become of her? -That she had a purpose in going to Trevisa's I did not doubt; but I -knew, too, that old Peter would not lightly let her leave his house. -Doubtless, also, young Peter had devised many plans for the purpose of -fulfilling his heart's desire. I knew he would seek to forge claims -whereby he would try and bind Nancy to him. And I had left her at -Treviscoe, unprotected and alone. True, I was confident that she could -hold her own against both father and son, nevertheless it was dangerous -for her to be there.</p> - -<p>Then what purpose had she in speaking with the attorney? Why was she -anxious for me to leave her? For she was anxious. I called to mind the -conversation which took place at Treviscoe, and which I have but -meagrely described, and I was certain that she was relieved when I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> left -her. Did she loathe my presence? Did she scorn me for playing so unmanly -a part? Badly as I acted, I was less to be blamed than the men who had -employed me. Besides, I had refused to benefit by what I had done. After -much thinking, I determined not to leave the neighbourhood. I would -watch over her, I would be near to protect her in case of danger.</p> - -<p>This was the last thought in my mind before I fell asleep, and all -through the night I dreamed I was defending her from powerful enemies, -and rescuing her from dire perils.</p> - -<p>I was awoke by Daniel knocking at my door.</p> - -<p>"You be wanted down-stairs, sur."</p> - -<p>"Wanted by whom, Daniel?"</p> - -<p>"Some gen'lemen; I doan't knaw who they be. But they say tes very -important, sur."</p> - -<p>I hastily dressed, and made my way into the library where Daniel at my -request had shown my visitors. The moment I entered the room a tall man -came towards me, and placing his hand on my shoulder said quietly:</p> - -<p>"Roger Trevanion, you are a prisoner."</p> - -<p>"A prisoner!" I cried; "for what?"</p> - -<p>"Treason."</p> - -<p>"Treason! You must be mad!"</p> - -<p>"That remains to be proved."</p> - -<p>"But at least you can state in something like detail what you mean. What -have I done? Wherein have I acted wrongly?"</p> - -<p>"It is not for me to answer. I have simply to do my duty. I am -instructed to arrest you, and that is my purpose in being here. -Doubtless you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> will be allowed every opportunity of defending -yourself—but with that I have nothing to do. My commands are to take -you to Viscount Falmouth in a way befitting your station. Consequently, -if you give me your word that you will offer no resistance, you may -accompany us to Tregothnan as though you were simply going there on some -private business."</p> - -<p>I looked around the room, and saw three other men. Evidently the -spokesman had brought them for the purpose of taking me by force in case -of necessity.</p> - -<p>As may be imagined, I was for a few minutes stunned by the course events -had taken. I had never dreamed that I was in the slightest danger; I had -no idea that I had by any action placed myself under suspicion.</p> - -<p>Presently, however, I thought I saw Otho Killigrew's hands at work; I -imagined I saw evidence of his busy brain; I became more self-possessed -after this, and although I was in sore straits at the thought of leaving -Nancy at Treviscoe, I tried to regard the whole matter as a joke.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen," I said, "what grounds there are for apprehending me I have -not the ghost of an idea. I, as all my fathers were, am a true supporter -of both crown and church. But, of course, you have done right in obeying -orders, and I will be ready to go with you in a few minutes. In the mean -time I hope you will join me at breakfast."</p> - -<p>They willingly fell in with this proposal, but although I tried hard, I -could get no information<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> from them beyond what I have here set down. An -hour later I was on my way to Tregothnan, where I was presently informed -Hugh Boscawen (Viscount Falmouth) awaited me.</p> - -<p>Perhaps there is no lovelier spot anywhere between the Tamar and -Land's-end than Tregothnan. It overlooks the Truro River, and all that -vast stretch of woodland which surrounds it. Around the house, which is -an ancient pile, are rare gardens and parks, where old trees grow, the -like of which is not to be found in the fairest county in England. The -house was in many parts becoming decayed, and I had heard reports that -Hugh Boscawen hoped one day to replace it by a more commodious dwelling. -But I suspect that, like his father, he was too busy with political -schemes to care much for a place justly renowned for many miles around.</p> - -<p>I was shown into the library where Hugh Boscawen and three other -gentlemen sat. Two of these I knew slightly. One was Sir John Grenville -and another John Rosecorroch, the forefathers of both of whom fought -against Cromwell nearly a century before. My attention, however, was -more particularly drawn to Hugh Boscawen, before whom I was especially -brought. As I looked at his face I was somewhat reminded of his father, -who had died eleven years before, and whom I had twice seen. It called -to my mind, also, the stories I had heard about the first viscount. So -great was the old man's political zeal that he had caused the arrest of -many who held high monarchical principles. Even Sir <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>Richard Vyvian or -Trelowaren, and Mr. Tremain, two of the most renowned and highly -respected gentlemen for miles around, did not escape his vigilance. They -were friends of his too, but, as he declared, "friendship had nought to -do with principles."</p> - -<p>The son, however, was not so great a man as his father. He had not the -same commanding countenance, neither did his eyes flash forth the same -light. On the other hand, the man before whom I stood seemed to be aware -that he did not possess a keen, penetrating intellect, and as a -consequence was suspicious and very cautious. Report had it, too, that -he was very zealous in his service for the King, and would leave no -stone unturned in order to carry out his designs. In proof of this, he -had, as I have already stated, been engaged in raising an army to resist -any forces which the Young Pretender might be able to command.</p> - -<p>"Roger Trevanion," he said slowly, "I am sorry to see you here."</p> - -<p>"Then it is a pity I should have been brought here, my lord," I said a -little hotly, for it went sore against the grain to be brought a -prisoner before a man whose family was no nobler than my own.</p> - -<p>"Neither would you have been brought here," he replied, "had not the -country been threatened by danger, and some, about whose loyalty there -should be no doubt, have become renegades."</p> - -<p>"You may have received information which has no foundation in fact, my -lord," was my reply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> "Nevertheless I should like to ask two questions. -First, what right have you to have me brought here a prisoner? and -second (providing you can prove your right to arrest whom you please), -what are the charges laid against me?"</p> - -<p>"Although you have asked your questions with but little respect for my -position," he replied hotly, and I saw that his vanity was touched, "I -may inform you that by the gracious commands of His Majesty, King George -II., it is my duty not only to raise an army in Cornwall wherewith to -fight any rebels who may take up arms on the side of the young -Pretender, but also to arrest any who give evidence of plotting against -the peace of the country, or who in any way favor the claims of the -descendants of the Stuarts."</p> - -<p>"Admitting that you are commissioned to arrest traitors," I said, "I -wish to know why I am included in such a category. This is the first -time a Trevanion was ever degraded in such a way, and if I speak hotly, -I think there is but little wonder."</p> - -<p>"I have treated you leniently, Roger Trevanion," he replied. -"Remembering the house to which you belong, I ordered that your arrest -should not be made public, and that every consideration should be shown -you. Have not my commands been obeyed?"</p> - -<p>"As to that," I replied, "I have no complaints to offer. My grievance is -that I have been brought here at all; for truly I know of nothing in the -nature of treason that can be laid to my charge."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p><p>In reply to this Sir John Grenville handed Hugh Boscawen papers which -he had been scanning, and on which I gathered the charge against me had -been written.</p> - -<p>"You shall yourself be the judge whether I, holding the commission I do, -have not acted rightly in bringing you here; and I here repeat that -nothing but respect for your name has kept me from making the matter -public and treating you as others, acting as you have acted, have been -treated all over the country. Indeed, I doubt whether I have done right -in using the discretionary powers invested in me in such a way as to -shield you from public calumny. If your conduct were bruited abroad, the -brave fellows who have voluntarily armed themselves to fight for the -King all up and down the country would without hesitation throw you into -the deepest dungeon beneath Pendennis Castle, even if they did not at -once kill you." This he said with, I thought, a sort of peacock pride, -which made me, short of temper as I was, itch to make him swallow his -words.</p> - -<p>"It ill becomes one possessing your powers to condemn a man unheard," I -cried hotly. "What is written on that paper I know not; this I know, if -there is anything alleged against my loyalty, I will proclaim the man -who wrote it a liar."</p> - -<p>Hugh Boscawen seemed about to lose his temper, but he was restrained by -Sir John Grenville, who seemed to regard me more favorably.</p> - -<p>"Very well," he said at length, "I will relate the charges made against -you. If you can clear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> yourself, well and good; if not, you must prepare -for the consequences."</p> - -<p>Knowing not what might be written, and fearing Otho Killigrew's cunning -(for I felt sure I saw his hand in all this), I foolishly called out for -a public trial.</p> - -<p>"There is no need at present for a public trial," said Hugh Boscawen, -who I could see was prejudged against me. "I am especially commissioned -to deal with such as you."</p> - -<p>"Up to about fourteen days ago," he continued, "you were known to live a -useless and dissolute life. Instead of taking your part in the service -of the country, your time was spent in gaming, drinking, and such like -foolish pursuits. Do you deny this?"</p> - -<p>"I do not," I replied. "I acted as many others are acting. Perchance -some of the many sons of your late father behave little differently even -to-day. But is there aught that smacks of treason in this?"</p> - -<p>"No; but even while living this life, you often let hints drop -concerning the danger of our gracious King, and the coming of the young -Pretender."</p> - -<p>"But never to favour his coming," I replied.</p> - -<p>"This taken by itself would have but little meaning," he went on; "but -subsequent events cause your words to have grave import."</p> - -<p>"What subsequent events, my lord?" I asked hotly.</p> - -<p>"About fourteen days ago you left your home, and rode away alone. Will -you tell me the object of your journey?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p><p>I was silent, for in truth I cared not to tell this man about the -flight of the maid Nancy.</p> - -<p>"You are silent. If your journey was honourable, what need is there for -seeking to hide it?"</p> - -<p>"My lord," I said, "most of us have our secrets. They may be innocent -enough, but still we do not care to have them made public property."</p> - -<p>"Ordinarily that may be true," he replied; "but remembering the charge -against you, I shall require you to state why you left Trevanion."</p> - -<p>"For no traitorous purpose, my lord, that I will swear. My reason for -leaving home had nothing whatever to do with the coming of the -Pretender."</p> - -<p>"Out of your own mouth I will convict you," he replied. "Did you not -tell Colman Killigrew, of Endellion, that you came to see him for the -very purpose of seeking to help the enemy of the King?"</p> - -<p>The words came upon me like a thunderbolt. I saw now that my position -was more dangerous than I had conceived.</p> - -<p>"Believe me, my lord," I cried, "I had another purpose in going to -Endellion. I, hearing that Killigrew favored Charles Stuart, used that -as a means whereby I might enter his house."</p> - -<p>"You told him a lie."</p> - -<p>"It was necessary in order to accomplish that on which I had set my -mind."</p> - -<p>"You admit telling a lie to him. How do I know you would not tell a lie -to me?"</p> - -<p>"But it is well known that the Killigrews are enemies of George II.," I -cried.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>Hugh Boscawen smiled scornfully. Not great of intellect, he -nevertheless sought to impress me with his erudition.</p> - -<p>"I know that the Killigrews pretend this," he replied, "but only for the -purpose of serving the King. It is true that the family hath nearly died -out, and beyond this one branch there are no representatives; but they -have always supported king and crown."</p> - -<p>"Tom Killigrew was Master of Revels of Charles II.," I replied hotly, -"and the family have always sworn allegiance to the Stuart race."</p> - -<p>"I am not here to bandy words with you, Roger Trevanion," he said; "the -question is, Did you or did you not offer your services to Colman -Killigrew? Did you not offer to help to raise an army against the king? -Did you not say that the people called Methodists were papists in -disguise, and desired to bring back the Catholic religion, and again -establish high monarchical powers?"</p> - -<p>Again I was silent, for in truth I had no answer to give.</p> - -<p>"I am waiting for you to speak," he continued presently.</p> - -<p>"I have no answer to make beyond again saying that this was a mere -subterfuge on my part to establish a footing in the house."</p> - -<p>"Why wished you to establish a footing in the house?"</p> - -<p>"This also must remain my secret for the present," was my answer.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p><p>"I tell you you are making a rope for your own neck," said Sir John -Grenville. "Tell the truth, lad; we are not thine enemies."</p> - -<p>"I will give you one more chance," said Hugh Boscawen. "You have refused -to answer the other questions I have asked, will you answer this? There -is a man known to hate the house of Hanover, who wanders up and down the -country in many disguises. Yesterday he was a priest of the Catholic -order, to-day he is a hermit living in cells, to-morrow he will be a -wandering minstrel and tale-teller; the day after he will meet with men -of high degree and converse with them as with equals. He is known as -Uncle Anthony, as Father Anthony, as Sir Anthony Tregarrick. Ah! I see -your lips tremble! Well, this man is one of the most dangerous men in -the country; he has gone to France, and has had secret converse with him -who is desirous of leading the rebels to battle; he is commissioned to -arouse a rebellious feeling in Cornwall, and he hath been doing this by -many underhanded means. Answer me this: Have you met this man disguised -as a traveling tale-teller? Have you allowed him to ride on your horse? -Have you had secret converse with him in one of his many hiding-places?"</p> - -<p>"For no seditious purpose, my lord."</p> - -<p>"But you have had converse with him?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but my conversation hath had naught to do with the coming of -Charles."</p> - -<p>"That may be proved. For a week past I have used many means to discover -this man's whereabouts. If he is taken he will assuredly die.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> You were -in his company not many days ago. Do you know where he is now?"</p> - -<p>It seemed as though the fates were against me. Truth was, I had, in -spite of everything, learned to love this lonely old man. If I told all -the truth I should be the means of his death, so I again held my peace.</p> - -<p>"You know where he is," said Sir John Grenville, who had several times -advised Hugh Boscawen as to the questions he should ask me. "Tell us -where you saw him last and it shall be well for you."</p> - -<p>"Never have I spoken one word with the travelling droll about the -affairs of the nation," I replied; "and I defy any man to prove that I -have used any endeavours to injure my king."</p> - -<p>"But we have witnesses!"</p> - -<p>"Then let your witnesses appear!" I cried hotly, for I thought I was -safe in saying this.</p> - -<p>"They shall appear, Roger Trevanion," said Hugh Boscawen; "they shall -appear," whereupon he signaled for a serving-man to attend him. When the -man came, Hugh Boscawen spoke to him in low tones, and immediately after -we were left alone again.</p> - -<p>"You say no man hath heard you proclaim against our gracious king?" said -Hugh Boscawen to me.</p> - -<p>"No man," I replied.</p> - -<p>No sooner had I spoken than the door opened, and Otho Killigrew and his -brother Clement entered the room. Upon this my heart fluttered much, for -I knew Otho to be as cunning as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> devil, and as merciless. All the -same I met his gaze boldly, for I determined now we had met in this way -that it should go hard with him. But I did not know then the man with -whom I had to deal.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII.</span> <span class="smaller">OTHO KILLIGREW'S VICTORY.</span></h2> - -<p>Both Otho Killigrew and his brother Clement bowed courteously to Hugh -Boscawen. Both, too, appeared perfectly at ease in his presence.</p> - -<p>"I have asked you to come here," said Viscount Falmouth to them blandly, -"in order to substantiate the charge you made last night against Roger -Trevanion."</p> - -<p>"I should have been glad to have escaped the duty," replied Otho, -speaking slowly as was his wont, "but as a loyal subject of our gracious -Majesty, George II., whom may God preserve, I could do no other."</p> - -<p>"You could not if your charges are true," was Falmouth's rejoinder. "The -name of Killigrew hath long been associated with the best life of the -county. I remember that the coat-of-arms of Falmouth, with which town I -am so closely associated by name and interest, is taken from that of the -Killigrews. Let me see, your arms are those of the Devonshire -Killigrews, and are <i>gules, three mascles or</i>. It pleases me much that -your branch of that ancient and honourable family remain loyal,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> -especially as evil reports have been rife concerning you."</p> - -<p>"My father hath allowed reports to go forth uncontradicted," replied -Otho; "he found that by so doing he could best serve his king. And as a -further proof of the loyalty of our family, we have at the first -opportunity laid information before you concerning this man, Roger -Trevanion."</p> - -<p>"Will you be good enough to repeat here what you stated last night -concerning him, so that he may have every opportunity of defending -himself?"</p> - -<p>I cannot here put down in exact words the story which Otho Killigrew -told, for in truth I cannot do justice to the subtlety of his mind, nor -describe his power of twisting actions and statements which were most -innocent into what seemed definite proof that I was a most determined -enemy of the king. As I listened my power of speech seemed for a time to -be gone, and I could do nothing but stare first at him, and then at Hugh -Boscawen as though I was a born fool. I saw, too, on consideration, that -my actions had laid me open to such an accusation. I <i>had</i> pretended to -be a papist; I <i>had</i> declared myself to be in favor of the return of -Charles the Pretender; I <i>had</i> promised old Colman Killigrew to obtain -recruits to fight against the King. Moreover, if I defended myself I -must tell the whole miserable story of my bargain with Peter Trevisa, -and then drag in the name of the maid who became constantly dearer to -me. Thus when Hugh Boscawen asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> me if I had aught to say, I was for a -few moments stupidly silent.</p> - -<p>"Look you," said Sir John Grenville, "you can at least answer plain -questions. Did you, on going to Endellion, tell Master Colman Killigrew -that you were a papist, and that hearing he was in the favour of the -Pretender's return, you desired to offer him your service? Yes, or no?"</p> - -<p>"That is true, Sir John," I blurted out; "but I only used this as a -means whereby I might be able to enter the house."</p> - -<p>"But why did you wish to enter the house?"</p> - -<p>Again I was silent, for in truth I could not make up my mind to tell the -whole truth. I knew that Otho Killigrew longed to know my real reason -for coming to Endellion; longed to know what interest I had in the maid, -Nancy Molesworth, and was doubtless using every means in his power to -try and find out where I had taken her. I was sure, moreover, that did I -once begin to tell my story, I should probably let words fall that might -give him a knowledge of her whereabouts, and then she would be quickly -in his power again. But besides all this, I had given my promise to -Peter Trevisa, before undertaking the mission of which I had become so -heartily ashamed, that I would tell no man concerning it. At the time I -had made the promise I had seen no danger, and had any one told me two -days before that any of the Killigrews of Endellion would dare to charge -me with treason against the king, I would have laughed at him. Yet such -was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> case, and innocent as I was of all traitorous purposes, I could -see no loophole for my escape.</p> - -<p>"You are silent in relation to Sir John's query," said Hugh Boscawen, -who did not seem to relish any one asking questions but himself. "Let me -ask you one in Master Otho Killigrew's presence: Did you or did you not -promise to try and get recruits to try and fight against the king?"</p> - -<p>"What I said had no meaning in it," I replied. "The king hath no truer -or more loyal subject than Roger Trevanion."</p> - -<p>"If you are a true and loyal subject, you will be glad to give -information whereby all traitors can be brought to book," replied -Boscawen. "I mentioned just now the name of one who, when you were with -him, was known as a traveling droll, by the name of Uncle Anthony. As I -told you, he is the most dangerous man in the county. Will you tell us -what you know of him?"</p> - -<p>"I know Uncle Anthony as a welcome guest of Colman Killigrew," I -replied. "When first I went to Endellion I was attacked by Otho -Killigrew's brother, and they would perchance have done me harm but for -the interference of the old man to whom you refer. As soon as they saw -that he was my companion they received me kindly. When I entered the -house I perceived that he was treated with great respect—almost as an -honoured guest."</p> - -<p>"I may say," replied Otho calmly, "that this is true. My father had -doubts concerning him, but would do nothing against him until he was -absolutely sure of his guilt. Knowing of the reports<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> circulated about -our family he came to our house and was received kindly, as we try to -receive all visitors. It was during his last visit that my father's -suspicions concerning him were confirmed."</p> - -<p>"Then," cried I, "why did you not arrest him?"</p> - -<p>"I may also say," went on Otho, without seeming to notice me, "that by -some secret means unknown to us, he left on the same night he arrived -with Roger Trevanion. But even had he stayed he would have been safe."</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked Sir John Grenville.</p> - -<p>"Because," replied Otho, "he entered our house as a guest,—as a humble -one, it is true, but still as a guest, and therefore we could take no -steps against him. When gone, however, and we had been able to verify -our doubts concerning him, I deemed it right to mention the fact of his -visit to my Lord Falmouth."</p> - -<p>"But he hath long been known to me as a dangerous man," cried Hugh -Boscawen.</p> - -<p>"We live far away from centers of information at Endellion," replied -Otho humbly.</p> - -<p>"And you say that Roger Trevanion knows where this man can be found?"</p> - -<p>"I know that he has been the companion of the man," replied Otho, "and -that he can probably tell where he now resides."</p> - -<p>"I do not know," I replied, thinking that he might have removed from the -lonely chapel.</p> - -<p>"When saw you him last, and where?" asked Hugh Boscawen.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p><p>Again I hesitated. Ought I to tell of the old man's whereabouts? I -could not see into the depths of Otho Killigrew's mind, but I felt -assured that he had some purpose in bringing in Uncle Anthony's name. -Did he desire to punish him for assisting Mistress Nancy Molesworth's -escape? Did he think I might be led to speak of him and thus tell of my -purpose in coming to Endellion. I was sure that this puzzled him sorely. -Was it to find out this that he had braved the danger of visiting -Tregothnan, the home of the man whose joy it was to find out treason and -punish it? I knew next to nothing of the old story-teller. He might or -might not be a political meddler. I was sure, however, that he was -shrewd beyond common, and would have friends unknown to me. He had many -hiding-places too, and in spite of his wound it was not likely that he -would stay at the hermit's chapel.</p> - -<p>Then another thought struck me. If it was the purpose of Hugh Boscawen -to arrest Uncle Anthony, the old man would surely be aware of it, and -any information I might be able to give would effect but little. On the -other hand, if he were told that Otho Killigrew had laid information -concerning him, the keen old recluse would not hesitate to make out a -bad case against the Killigrews, and, in spite of the part they were -playing, would pull their mask aside, and show the Viscount their real -sentiments. I therefore determined to speak freely.</p> - -<p>"When I last saw Uncle Anthony," I replied, "he was lying in a lonely -chapel in the parish of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> St. Mawgan. He had been wounded by Otho -Killigrew for seeking to defeat his evil purposes."</p> - -<p>"What evil purposes?"</p> - -<p>"I will let the old droll answer that, when you have taken him," I -replied; "but it had naught to do with treason against the king."</p> - -<p>"Had it to do with the purpose for which you say you went to Endellion?" -asked Sir John Grenville.</p> - -<p>"It had, Sir John."</p> - -<p>"Then let me tell you this," said the baronet, "it will be well for you -if you will tell us the reason for which you took this journey and the -event which led to this charge being made against you."</p> - -<p>At that moment I turned and caught the eye of Otho Killigrew; and from -the eagerness with which he looked at me, I knew that he longed for me -to answer Sir John's question. Was there something lurking behind of -which I had no knowledge? Had Peter Trevisa and his son told me -everything when he asked me to bring the maid, Nancy Molesworth, to -them? Had Otho Killigrew come to the conclusion that I might help him to -find out some valuable secrets? During the time he had been accusing me -of treason, he had never once hinted at the truth. Did he know where -Mistress Nancy was? And more than this, might not one of his reasons for -placing himself in danger in order to cause my arrest be that he feared -me? I remembered now that I knew nothing of the maid Nancy's life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> prior -to her coming to Endellion, and I reproached myself for not asking her.</p> - -<p>All this flashed through my mind in a second, and determined me more -than ever to let drop no hint as to the truth. Possibly I should be -doing the maid I loved incalculable injury by so doing, for I knew that -Otho Killigrew was merciless.</p> - -<p>"There be certain things, Sir John, which a gentleman may not tell," I -replied. "You will know as well as I that the Trevanions have more than -once suffered rather than endanger the fair fame of a lady. I can only -give you my word of honour that I never dreamed of treason, and that if -it become necessary I am willing to take up arms for the king."</p> - -<p>"Methinks he tries to make me out a liar," replied Otho Killigrew, -speaking more quickly than was his wont; "I will be willing to withdraw -my charges if he will make it clear that what he has just said is true. -We be all gentlemen here, and not one of us would let the fair name of a -lady suffer."</p> - -<p>By speaking thus he confirmed my suspicions, and I still held my peace. -Possibly Hugh Boscawen and Sir John Grenville, in their over-zeal for -the king, their minds poisoned by the cunning of Otho Killigrew, might -commit me for public trial, but I did not fear that. I feared rather -that by speaking I should give Killigrew a power which he did not now -possess, even though my knowledge was meager in extreme.</p> - -<p>After this I was asked many more questions, some of them concerning -Uncle Anthony, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> others about matters which seemed to me trivial -beyond measure; but I was not able to assure my judges of my innocence, -and I was at length condemned to be imprisoned at Launceston Castle -until such time as I could be publicly tried.</p> - -<p>Now this was sore grief to me, for I should thus leave the maid Nancy in -the hands of Peter Trevisa and his son, or, what would be worse, at the -mercy of Otho Killigrew. It is true there seemed but little danger that -Peter Trevisa would play into Otho's hands, but I had many doubts.</p> - -<p>"My lord," I said, as soon as I was able to collect my thoughts "as you -know, I have been away from Trevanion for many days. May I pray your -clemency in so far that I may be allowed to return for a few hours in -order to consult my attorney and make other simple arrangements -concerning my servants?"</p> - -<p>"This shall be granted," replied Hugh Boscawen. "It would ill beseem -that one of your name should be treated with lack of due courtesy. You -shall, therefore, ride to your house as a free man might; you shall also -be allowed to see your attorney. Furthermore, there is no need that for -the present the knowledge of the charges laid against you should become -public."</p> - -<p>At this I knew not what to think, for I felt myself as it were in a -network of difficulties, and knew not whether Hugh Boscawen desired to -be my friend or enemy. All the same I determined to make the most of my -opportunities. I immediately sent a message to Lawyer Hendy, therefore, -asking him to meet me at Trevanion, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> tried to think of means whereby -I could tell Mistress Nancy of the fate which had befallen me, or, -better still, to see her. Nothing, however, occurred to me on my journey -home; indeed I was kept busy talking with my guardsmen, who, although -they treated me respectfully, watched me closely. Once I thought of -attempting flight, but I reflected that such a course would be unwise, -even if it were possible. Besides, being unarmed, I was very nearly -helpless in such a matter.</p> - -<p>I had not long returned to Trevanion when Lawyer Hendy came. He listened -very attentively to my recital of my experiences, but made no comment -thereon. Instead he sat quibbling the end of his riding-whip, like one -in deep thought.</p> - -<p>"What is the meaning of this?" I asked presently.</p> - -<p>"I cannot tell—yet."</p> - -<p>"You think Otho Killigrew has some deep-laid purpose?"</p> - -<p>"Possibly. Possibly he is only inspired by a spirit of revenge. But -enough of that for the present. What do you wish done while you are away -at—that is, from home?"</p> - -<p>"Before I deal with that," I cried, "I wish to know what happened at -Treviscoe last night?"</p> - -<p>"Last night? Nothing."</p> - -<p>"Nothing?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"But Mistress Nancy wished to speak with you, and you stayed with her. -What had she to say?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p><p>"It is not for me to tell you."</p> - -<p>I ground my teeth with impatience. "Then she told you nothing of her -history or purposes?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I did not say so," replied the attorney grimly.</p> - -<p>"But she did not know of the danger in which I stood?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"What!"</p> - -<p>"Do not misunderstand. She knew that you were in danger, because she -knew Otho Killigrew; but she knew nothing, suspected nothing of the -course events would take."</p> - -<p>"I should like her to know what has happened to me," I said, "otherwise -she will think I am unwilling to render her further service. Would you -take a letter to her? I am allowed to write letters."</p> - -<p>"I would if I could, but I cannot."</p> - -<p>"Cannot, why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I do not know where she is."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, Hendy?" I cried. "You left her last night at -Treviscoe!"</p> - -<p>"I mean, Master Roger Trevanion," said the attorney slowly, but speaking -every word plainly, "that I do not know where the lady Mistress Nancy -Molesworth is."</p> - -<p>"Then get to know through Peter Trevisa."</p> - -<p>"He doth not know!"</p> - -<p>"How?" I cried, now truly amazed.</p> - -<p>"Because she is gone, and Peter Trevisa is as ignorant of her -whereabouts as you are."</p> - -<p>"Then she is in Otho Killigrew's hands."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>"I do not think so."</p> - -<p>"Your reason for that?" I cried.</p> - -<p>"Because there are no evidences of it. She left Treviscoe last night, -not many hours after I left, at least such is Peter Trevisa's opinion. -He sent for me early this morning, and on my arrival I found him like -one demented. The maid had crept out of the house with her servant, and -had themselves saddled the horses and rode them away."</p> - -<p>"And left no traces behind?"</p> - -<p>"Not a trace."</p> - -<p>"But did she hold any conversation with Peter Trevisa after you had -left?"</p> - -<p>The lawyer gave a start. "I had not thought of that," he said hastily.</p> - -<p>"Look you, Hendy," I cried, for the time forgetting that in an hour or -so I should be on my way to Launceston jail, "I have puzzled my brains -sorely concerning this. Do you know the history of the business?"</p> - -<p>"I think so; yes. Trevisa has been obliged to tell me."</p> - -<p>"Has he told you why he wished the maid brought to Treviscoe?"</p> - -<p>"No—that is, beyond what he told you."</p> - -<p>"You mean that young Peter had fallen in love with her?"</p> - -<p>"That is it."</p> - -<p>"But that cannot be all; he would never wish her brought to Treviscoe -unless he had some powerful reason to urge to the maid for the course he -had taken."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p><p>"I think you are right."</p> - -<p>"Have you any idea what the reason is?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Do you think he tried its effects last night?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Hendy was silent.</p> - -<p>"It might have miscarried, you know," I continued eagerly; but the old -attorney spoke no word, instead he walked to and fro the room as though -cogitating deeply.</p> - -<p>An hour later I was on horseback again, and proceeded under the charge -of four men towards Launceston, a town situated on the extreme borders -of the county, where at that time one of the county jails was situated.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX.</span> <span class="smaller">LAUNCESTON CASTLE.</span></h2> - -<p>Concerning my journey to Launceston there is but little need to describe -in detail. Except that it was long and wearisome it calls but for few -remarks. On our way thither we passed through Bodmin, where was a jail, -and where the assizes were periodically held. I asked why I was not -imprisoned there, seeing it was so much nearer Trevanion than -Launceston, and would thus save a long journey, but the men in whose -custody I was made no reply. Indeed we did not stay at Bodmin at all. -Instead we made our way towards the Bodmin moors, and passed through one -of the dreariest regions it has ever been my lot to see. The journey -through the night, from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> Wadebridge to Roche Rock, was awesome enough, -but it was cheerful compared with our wanderings through that waste land -which lies between the town of Bodmin and the village of Lewannick, a -distance of something like twenty miles. Besides, in the ride to Roche -Rock I was excited, I breathed the air of romance and adventure; a young -girl who I was even then learning to love rode by my side, and I had but -little time to think of the lonely district through which we rode. Now I -was a prisoner, my destination was one of the county jails, where I -should have to lie until such time as I should be tried for treason. All -this made the bare brown moors look more desolate. We had to ride -slowly, too, for there were innumerable bogs and quagmires, and no -proper roads had been made. One spot especially impressed me. It was -that known as Dozmary Pool, about which numberless wild tales had been -told. Legend had it that it had no bottom, and that Tregeagle, about -whose terrible fate all the children in Cornwall had heard, was -condemned to scoop out its dark waters with a limpet shell in order to -atone for his sins. Of the legend I thought but little, but the supposed -scene of his trials was enough to strike terror into the bravest heart. -The pool is as black as ink, and is situated in the midst of uninhabited -moorland. Early spring as it was, the wind howled dismally across the -weary waste, and my custodians shuddered as they rode along, for truly -it required little imagination to believe that the devil must delight to -hold his revels there. I have since<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> thought that if I had played upon -the superstitious fears of my guards I should have had but little -difficulty in effecting my escape.</p> - -<p>After we had left the Bodmin Moors, we came upon those situated in the -parish of Altarnun, and these were, if possible, less cheerful than the -other, for on our right hand rose a ghastly-looking hill on which -nothing grew, and whose gray, forbidding rocky peaks made us long to get -into civilized regions again. By and by, however, after passing through -a hamlet called Bolven Tor we came to Altarnun, where we rested for -nearly two hours, and then made our way towards Launceston.</p> - -<p>It was quite dark when we entered the town, so I was able to form but -little conception of it. Even in the darkness, however, I could see the -dim outline of a huge building lifting its dark head into the night sky.</p> - -<p>"Launceston Castle!" remarked one of my companions.</p> - -<p>"Am I to stop there?" I asked. "Is it a prison?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know exactly," was the reply; "you'll find out soon enough for -your own comfort, I dare say."</p> - -<p>Upon this we came up to a high wall which was covered with ivy, and -behind which great trees grew. The sight of the walls was oppressive -enough, but the trees looked like old friends, and reminded me of the -great oaks which grew around Trevanion.</p> - -<p>"Here's a door," cried one, "let's knock."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> Whereupon the fellow knocked -loudly, and soon afterwards I heard the sound of footsteps.</p> - -<p>"What want you?" said a voice.</p> - -<p>"A prisoner," was the reply.</p> - -<p>"Take him to the lock-up," was the answer. "This is not the place for -constables to bring drunken men."</p> - -<p>"If it please you, we be not constables," replied one of my companions. -"We have come from my Lord Falmouth, with a prisoner of quality, and I -carry important papers."</p> - -<p>"But it is not for me to examine them," replied the voice, "and Master -Hugh Pyper is gone to a supper to-night at South Petherwin, and God only -knows when he will be back. Moreover, when he comes I much doubt whether -he will be fit to read such papers."</p> - -<p>"In Heaven's name, why?"</p> - -<p>"Because Sir Geoffry Luscombe keeps the best wine in the county, and -because whenever Master Hugh Pyper goes there he thinks he is bound by -conscience not to leave until he has drunk until he can drink no more."</p> - -<p>"And this Master Hugh Pyper is the constable and keeper of the jail and -castle? I know he is, for such is the name written on my papers."</p> - -<p>"Well, I will open the door," grumbled the man from within, "but I wish -you had chosen some other time. To-morrow morning, up to twelve o'clock, -Master Pyper will be asleep, and from then until late to-morrow night he -will give no man a civil word. You say your prisoner is a man of -quality?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p><p>"That he is."</p> - -<p>"All the same, I shall have to put him into a common jail until Master -Pyper is able to read what you have brought."</p> - -<p>We passed through the door as he spoke, and the man who had been -speaking, and who held a lantern in his hand, looked at me keenly.</p> - -<p>"I wish gentlefolk would keep out of trouble," he grumbled; "if they -did, I should keep out of trouble. Master Pyper is always in a -villainous temper whenever a man of quality is made prisoner. But come -this way."</p> - -<p>I expected to be taken to the castle itself, but in this I was mistaken. -South of this ancient pile, and away from the main structure, I noticed -a long low building, towards which I was led. The man who held the -lantern gave a whistle, whereupon another fellow appeared on the scene.</p> - -<p>"All quiet, Jenkins?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Oal gone to slaip, sur. They've been braave and noisy, but they be oal -right now."</p> - -<p>"You have an empty cell?"</p> - -<p>"Iss, Mr. Lethbridge, there es wawn."</p> - -<p>"Open it."</p> - -<p>A few seconds later I had entered an evil-smelling hole, which as far as -I could see was about eight feet square and five feet high. On one side -was a heap of straw, in another a bench.</p> - -<p>"Are you hungry?" asked the man called Lethbridge.</p> - -<p>"I was before I entered this hole," I replied. "I cannot eat here."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p><p>"There have been as good as you who have eaten there," he replied. -Then, after hesitating a second, he went on, "You would like to pay for -a decent supper I expect."</p> - -<p>"For the whole lot of you if we can have a clean place," was my answer.</p> - -<p>Mr. Lethbridge looked around. "Every man is innocent until he is proved -guilty," he remarked sententiously, "and thus before trial every -prisoner is allowed certain privileges. Come back again, sir."</p> - -<p>I therefore accompanied him to what seemed like a tower, situated -southwest of the gate at which he had entered.</p> - -<p>"This is the Witch's Tower," remarked Mr. Lethbridge. "A witch was once -burnt here, but she will not disturb us. John Jenkins, you know where to -get a good supper. The best you know!" The man gave a grin and walked -away in evident good humour.</p> - -<p>"John Jenkins is always willing to do little errands," remarked Mr. -Lethbridge, "and he only expects a trifle. The people to whom he's gone -will send a good supper and not be unreasonable. Do not be downhearted, -sir."</p> - -<p>Bad as was my condition, I was cheered at the thought of a good meal -which might be eaten amidst clean surroundings, and although the room -under the Witch's Tower was not cheerful, it was dry and clean. A few -minutes later a decent supper was brought, of which we all partook -heartily. Mr. Lethbridge was the best trencherman among us, although he -assured us at starting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> that having had supper he would be able to eat -nothing. The amount of wine he consumed, too, was astounding, especially -as he was constantly telling us that unlike his master, Hugh Pyper, the -Governor of the Castle, he was but an indifferent drinker. Presently, -however, when both he and the men who had escorted me from Trevanion had -become fairly drunk, I was informed that I might stay in the Witch's -Tower for the night, while they would go to Mr. Lethbridge's lodge and -drink my health in some more wine that they would order in my name.</p> - -<p>I was glad to be rid of them, for dreary and lonely as the Witch's Tower -was, Jenkins had brought some straw for me to lie on, and I felt very -tired. I could not sleep, however. I had too many things to think about, -for in truth the events of the last few days were beyond my -comprehension. I was weary with wondering, too. In spite of myself I had -become enmeshed in a network of mysteries, and, seemingly without -reason, my very life might be in danger. But more than all, I was -ignorant concerning the fortunes of the maid Nancy Molesworth, and I -would have given up willingly the thing dearest to me on earth to know -of her safety.</p> - -<p>I will not try to write down all my anxieties, and hopes, and fears. I -will not try to tell of the mad feelings which possessed me, of the wild -projects I dreamed about, or of the love which grew hourly more ardent, -and yet more hopeless. Those who have read this history will, if the -fires of youth run in their veins, or if they remember<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> the time when -they were young and buoyant, know what I longed for, and what I -suffered.</p> - -<p>The following morning Master Lethbridge came to me and informed me that -my companions of the previous day had started on their journey home, and -that in remembrance of my generosity of the previous night,—with a hint -concerning his hopes of future favours,—he intended braving the -governor's anger, and would allow me to occupy the Witch's Tower until -such time as Master Hugh Pyper should be inclined to speak with me. He -also assured me that he would allow me to walk about within the -precincts of the castle walls, but warned me against any attempt at -escape, as warders were constantly on the watch and would not hesitate -to shoot me dead.</p> - -<p>Although I did not believe this, I could not at that time see the wisdom -in trying to escape, so I wandered round the castle grounds thinking -over my condition and over my prospects. It is true I had not seen -Master Hugh Pyper, the governor of the Castle, but it was not difficult -to see that he was somewhat lax of discipline. As for that matter, -however, the place was, I suspect, no better and no worse governed than -many other county prisons throughout the country. The jail itself, -however, was a wretched, noisome, evil-smelling place, where the -convicted and unconvicted suffered alike, and I dreaded the thought of -being removed from the Witch's Tower and placed in the common prison. I -discovered that I might possibly have to stay two months in the place -before my trial came off, as the spring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> assizes were often delayed as -late as the end of May, or even the beginning of June. It was, -therefore, a matter of considerable anxiety to me as to the kind of man -Hugh Pyper might prove to be, for on him would depend my well-being. I -remembered that my father had spoken of Sir Hugh Pyper, the grandfather -of the present governor, who after the restoration of the monarchy was -rewarded for his good service in the cause of the King by a grant of the -castle as lessee, and was made constable and keeper of the jail. I -assumed that the position was hereditary, and doubtless the present -castle governor would be invested with large powers.</p> - -<p>As to the place itself, apart from the unhealthy condition of the jail, -it is fair, and long to be remembered. The castle stands on a fine -eminence, and is surrounded by several acres of land. Under ordinary -circumstances I could have wished for no more pleasant place of -residence. The spring leaves were bursting everywhere, and every plant -and shrub gave promise that in a few days the country-side, which I -could plainly see from the Witch's Tower, would be a scene of much -beauty. My mind and heart, however, were so full of anxiety that I -fretted and fumed beyond measure, and panted for freedom as a thirsty -horse pants for water. I wanted to search for Nancy, to be assured of -her safety, and to fight for her if needs be. I longed, too, to solve -the many problems which faced me, not by quietly musing in solitude, but -by daring action in the world outside. For unlike some men, I can think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> -best when I have work to do. I cannot plan anything from the beginning. -My mind is so ordered that I desire only to decide definitely on the -first steps to be taken in any enterprise and then to be guided by -circumstances.</p> - -<p>I was brought before Master Hugh Pyper on the evening of the day after -my imprisonment, and at a glance I saw that he corresponded with the -picture I had drawn of him from Lethbridge's description. That he fed -well and drank much wine no one could fail to see. He was a big, burly -man, too, and I thought not of a very cautious nature. The papers which -had been signed by Viscount Falmouth lay before him as I entered the -room where he sat, and which he had been evidently reading.</p> - -<p>"Roger Trevanion," he cried, "I am sorry to see you here. Why, man -alive, can't you see how foolish it is to oppose the King! God is always -on the side of the kings, man, always. That's what my grandfather, Sir -Hugh, always said, and that's what I always say. Stick to the reigning -monarch! I knew your father, too. A man with a proud temper, but a good -fellow withal. He could drink well, could your father—drink all -night—and then be as merry as a lark in the morning. I can't; I must -have six good hours of sleep after as many with the bottle, and woe -betide the man who disturbs me! but after that I am as gay as your -father was. Now then, what have you been doing?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing wrong," I replied quietly.</p> - -<p>"But Boscawen shows a clear case against you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> If all this is proved at -the assizes, by Gad, your neck will stretch."</p> - -<p>Upon this I spoke freely. I told Pyper that I was guilty of no treason, -that circumstances seemed against me, but that King George had no truer -subject than I. I made him believe me, too, for his manner became quite -sympathetic.</p> - -<p>"The Killigrews of Endellion!" he cried, when I had finished my history. -"Ah, lad, they are as deep as Dozmary Pool and as full of evil. No one -knows what they are. Some say they are no better than a gang of robbers, -others that they are angels of light. One report hath it that they are -plotting treason against the King, another that they spend their time in -finding out traitors and bringing them to book. Sir John Dingle believes -that they intend sailing with the wind. If the Pretender's cause fails, -as doubtless it will, for England will have no high monarchy and no -popery, these Killigrews will put in a strong plea for reward; but if -this young Charles ousts King George, which God forbid, then they will -prove that they have raised an army for him. But you can't catch 'em, -Roger Trevanion. Did you ever catch eels? I have; but it's slippery -work, slippery work. You must sand your hands well, and then they are so -slimy that they will slide through your fingers."</p> - -<p>"I believe all that, and I know there is a <i>prima facie</i> case against -me. But I dare not tell all." This I said hesitatingly, for I hardly -knew my man.</p> - -<p>"Daren't tell all; what do you mean?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p><p>"Well, it is true I went to Endellion; true that I said many of the -things laid to my charge, but my visit there had nothing to do with -political matters."</p> - -<p>"What then? A woman?"</p> - -<p>I was silent, and I felt the hot blood rush to my face.</p> - -<p>"A woman! ha! ha!" laughed Pyper. "But did you tell my Lord Falmouth of -this?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I dared not, I feared to do her harm."</p> - -<p>"But who is she? Tell me the history of the business. Look you, -Trevanion, I am sorry you are here; I know your family—who -doesn't?—and I should like to see you well out of this trouble. You see -I am not treating you like a prisoner."</p> - -<p>"I can tell you a little, but a very little," I replied. "Perhaps I -ought to tell you more than I do; but I am bound by promises. I went to -Endellion to carry away a lady from the house."</p> - -<p>"By Gad, you did! and you succeeded, you dog?"</p> - -<p>"I did."</p> - -<p>"Who is the lady?"</p> - -<p>Thereupon I told Pyper all I dared: enough, as I thought, to explain the -position in which I was placed, but not enough to break my faith with -Trevisa or to be of any service to the Killigrews.</p> - -<p>"But why did you seek to take the maid away?"</p> - -<p>"That I cannot tell at present," I replied.</p> - -<p>He was thoughtful for a second, and I began to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> see that Hugh Pyper had -more brains that I had given him credit for; then he said:</p> - -<p>"And the name of this maid, Roger Trevanion?"</p> - -<p>I hesitated for a second.</p> - -<p>"I think I know," he went on. "Is she not the child of Godfrey -Molesworth?"</p> - -<p>"Did you know him?" I asked</p> - -<p>"Know him!" he cried, "well. Why the woman he married was some relation -of the Killigrews, that is why old Colman became guardian of the child. -The mother was Irish. Godfrey Molesworth went to Ireland to marry her."</p> - -<p>"Was she a Catholic then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. There was much talk about it at the time, for Godfrey was a strong -Protestant."</p> - -<p>My heart gave a leap, for I remembered some words which had dropped from -the lips of the Irish priest at Padstow. But I dared not mention them to -Pyper, they might have serious issues and explain much. They must be -pondered carefully, too.</p> - -<p>After this, many more questions were asked and answered, but they led to -nothing; neither need I write them down here. At the same time my -further conversation with this florid-looking old governor of Launceston -Castle revealed the fact that, in spite of his freedom in eating and -drinking, he was a keen observer of men and things, and was not easily -deceived.</p> - -<p>"I must keep you here, Roger Trevanion," he said presently, "for I have -my duty to perform; but I will make your stay here as pleasant as -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>possible. You shall not stay in the ordinary prison, but shall continue -to occupy the Witch's Tower. As far as food is concerned, too, you shall -be well supplied, even though I have to send it from my own table. But I -am doubtful as to the future, lad."</p> - -<p>"You think judge and jury will find me guilty?"</p> - -<p>"It will be to the Killigrews' interest to be against you, I am afraid. -As far as I can see, only one thing can save you."</p> - -<p>"And that?" I cried eagerly.</p> - -<p>"That the maid Nancy Molesworth shall appear on your behalf, and tell -the truth concerning you."</p> - -<p>"I do not know where she is."</p> - -<p>"But you can find out. You know where you took her."</p> - -<p>"No. She has left the place to which I took her, and no one knows -whither she has gone."</p> - -<p>He looked at me keenly for some seconds, as if trying to find out if -there was anything behind the words I had spoken. Presently he said: "If -I were you I would engage the keenest lawyer in Cornwall to find out, -and so prepare a case."</p> - -<p>"I have done that. I suppose he will be allowed to visit me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I shall allow you to have visitors. But mind, my lad, I can allow -no trying to escape. You are a dead man if you do!"</p> - -<p>As I sat in the Witch's Tower afterwards, I pondered over what he had -said. In truth, my case was more serious than I had thought. I saw that -did I not speak out boldly my life was in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>imminent danger, for the King -was very bitter against those who appeared to side with the Pretender. -To say that I longed for freedom would be but faintly to describe my -feelings! Yet what could I do?</p> - -<p>After I had been a prisoner for some time, I determined to try and -escape. Every day the conviction grew upon me that the maid Nancy needed -me. In my dreams I saw her hiding from her pursuers, I saw her at the -mercy of the Killigrews, and when I awoke I thought I heard her crying -to me to come and help her.</p> - -<p>As the days went by, too, I became nervous. Lying alone in the silence -of the Witch's Tower, and remembering all the stories I heard from -Lethbridge concerning the life of the woman who had been burnt there, I -became the prey of morbid fears. Often at night I thought I saw her -lifting her skinny hands out of the fire which consumed her and fancied -I could hear her dying cries. I, who had laughed at foolish -superstitions and prided myself on my firm nerves, shuddered each day at -the thought of the coming night, and when night came I suffered the -torments of the lost.</p> - -<p>And yet I dared not ask to leave the tower, for if I did I should -doubtless be put in the common jail. Here not only would my surroundings -be filthy and the atmosphere sickening, but I should be thrown into -contact with the other prisoners.</p> - -<p>Added to this, my chances of escape would be much lessened, for the -place was on the whole strictly guarded. Whereas while at the Witch's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> -Tower I was comparatively unmolested, I had a view of the world outside, -and I thought I saw means whereby I might, if fortunate, obtain my -liberty. To effect this I should have to bribe one of the jailers, and -my plans would take several days to carry out. Nevertheless, if there -was any chance of getting away from Launceston Castle, the fact of my -occupying the dismal chamber I have mentioned gave it me.</p> - -<p>I therefore determined to suffer all the ghastly spectres of the mind -which came to me during the night rather than seek to exchange my -prison.</p> - -<p>When I had been at Launceston jail about three weeks I received -information that a man was about to visit me. Wondering as to whom it -might be, I awaited his coming eagerly. At first I thought it might be -Mr. Hendy, the attorney, but I quickly discovered my mistake. It was not -the lawyer's figure that I saw coming across the castle yard towards me. -For the moment, indeed, I could not make out who my visitor was. He -looked like a fairly prosperous yeoman, and was, as far as I could see, -a stranger to me. But this was only for a minute. I quickly penetrated -the evident disguise, and felt sure that the man was Otho Killigrew.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XX.</span> <span class="smaller">I ESCAPE FROM THE WITCH'S TOWER.</span></h2> - -<p>As may be imagined, the sight of Otho Killigrew set me a-wondering much, -for I knew he would not come to see me save for important reasons. -Doubtless he fancied I was in possession of some knowledge which he -hoped I might impart; but I hoped that by being careful I might lead him -to betray more to me than I should communicate to him.</p> - -<p>I therefore received him civilly, hard as it was to do so, but I saw -that he lacked his usual self-possession. He spoke more quickly than was -his wont, and his mouth twitched as though he were nervous and much -wrought upon.</p> - -<p>"Trevanion," he said, when we were presently left alone, "we have been -fighting a battle which I have won."</p> - -<p>"I thought so until I saw you coming towards me just now," was my reply -as I watched him closely.</p> - -<p>He flushed angrily, for he saw that I had divined his motives; but he -stuck to his guns.</p> - -<p>"Which I have won," he repeated. "When the assizes come off I shall have -to appear against you. I have only to repeat the evidence I gave to -Boscawen, and you will swing."</p> - -<p>"Possibly yes, probably no," was my reply.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Look you," I said boldly; "when I set out for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> Endellion I imagined the -kind of men I had to contend with; when I entered your house I took the -measure of your whole tribe. I knew that the Killigrews of Falmouth, -before that branch of the family died out, were honest loyal gentlemen, -but I saw that the Killigrews of Endellion were——" I stopped.</p> - -<p>"What?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I will reserve my opinion," I replied; "but I can tell you this, I did -not go like a lamb to the slaughter."</p> - -<p>"It seems to me that you did," he replied with a sneer. "True, you -seemed to win for a time, and you succeeded in taking away my affianced -wife. But what is the result of it? You are in the county jail for -treason, and the hangman's rope is dangling over your head."</p> - -<p>"As far as that is concerned," I replied jauntily, for I determined to -put a bold face on the matter, "my neck is as safe as yours, as you will -find out in good time. As for the maid, she is where you will never get -her."</p> - -<p>"Do not be too sure," he replied; "we have not earned the title of -sleuthhounds for nothing."</p> - -<p>My breath came freer as he said this. I believed that he was ignorant of -the maid Nancy's whereabouts. Probably he had come to me in order to -obtain information.</p> - -<p>"Moreover," he went on, "you are here on a very grave charge. Unless it -is to my interest to do otherwise, I shall certainly give evidence -against you at the assizes, and nothing can save you from death."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p><p>"Man alive," I replied, "you do not hold the destinies of the world in -your hand. There be men born of women besides Otho Killigrew."</p> - -<p>"But none that can save you."</p> - -<p>"I have no doubt but that you are a clever fellow, Killigrew," I said; -"but omniscience belongeth not to man."</p> - -<p>"Well, who can save you?"</p> - -<p>"Those who <i>will</i> save me at the proper time."</p> - -<p>"Uncle Anthony cannot give evidence; he dare not show himself," replied -Otho; "neither will Nancy. She would thereby frustrate all her desires."</p> - -<p>Little as he might suspect it, he had by this answer revealed something -of his mind to me. For one thing, Uncle Anthony was still at large, and -it was evident that he thought the maid Nancy would sacrifice much by -appearing in a public way.</p> - -<p>"And what desires would she frustrate?" I asked with a laugh.</p> - -<p>"Maybe you know, may be you do not. I will assume that you do not," was -his answer.</p> - -<p>I laughed again, for I saw what his answer might mean. Upon this he -looked glum for some seconds, and seemed to hesitate as to what steps he -should take.</p> - -<p>"Look here," he cried presently. "I will admit you are a clever fellow, -Trevanion. It is a compliment you paid me, and I will return it. I will -not pretend that I came here out of pure desire to set you free. I did -not. But I can set you free!"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p><p>"Undoubtedly."</p> - -<p>"And I will—if you, that is, if you make it worth while."</p> - -<p>"You wish to bargain with me, I know," was my answer; "why did you not -say so at first? But a bargain assumes <i>quid pro quo</i>."</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll give you as much as you give me."</p> - -<p>"What will you give?"</p> - -<p>"Your liberty."</p> - -<p>"And what do you require?"</p> - -<p>He hesitated a second, and then he spoke in his old measured way. -"First, I require to know where Mistress Nancy Molesworth is now. -Second, I wish you to tell me your reasons for taking her away from -Endellion. Third, I desire to be informed of all you know concerning -that lady."</p> - -<p>It was in the last question that my interest particularly lay. For, as -the readers of this history know, I myself was in almost total ignorance -of the things he desired to know. It is true, if I told him of my -conversation with Peter Trevisa and his son, he would form his own -surmises concerning Peter's plans, but even then I doubted if I should -impart the information he wanted.</p> - -<p>"You must surely know more about Mistress Nancy than I," I replied -evasively. "Did your father not take her at the death of her father? Did -he not send her to France? Did you not receive her at Endellion a few -months ago? What, then, should there be for me to impart?"</p> - -<p>"You know," he answered; "be frank with me. You were with her alone for -many hours, and she told you many things."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p><p>"True, she told me many things," I replied; "but concerning what do you -wish me to speak?"</p> - -<p>Again he hesitated. I saw that he was afraid lest he might betray -himself, and this was what I desired him to do.</p> - -<p>"What do you know of her parentage, her father and mother's marriage? -What of her father's will?"</p> - -<p>"Was there a will?" I said at a venture, because I saw that it was by an -effort that he mentioned it.</p> - -<p>His face turned pale. Evidently I had touched a sore spot. My heart gave -a bound, for I connected his question with the remark the priest had let -fall at Padstow and Peter Trevisa's desire to get the maid at Treviscoe.</p> - -<p>"Come, Trevanion," he said again, "let us be frank."</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied; "let us be frank. At present it is you who ask all the -questions, while you give no information yourself."</p> - -<p>"I have offered to pay you for your information," he said. "I have -offered you your liberty."</p> - -<p>"True," I answered, "you have offered it; but what assurance have I that -you would fulfil your promise? I would not trust you as far as I could -throw a bull by the horns. You have asked me many questions. By -answering them I should place a great deal of power in your hands. -Directly I told you all that you desire to know, you would leave -Launceston and act on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>information I have given; then when I am -tried, what proof have I that you will tell the truth?"</p> - -<p>"On my word of sacred honour, I will set you free."</p> - -<p>"A snap of my finger for your sacred honour, Otho Killigrew," I cried, -suiting the action to the word. "Indeed, I very much doubt if you dare -to give such evidence as might set me free. Your family is too deeply -implicated."</p> - -<p>"Trust Otho Killigrew for that," he replied scornfully; "I always play -to win."</p> - -<p>"Look you," I said at length, "assuming that the charges you have -brought against me are not shown to be worthless before the assizes, and -reckoning that an order does not come from Hugh Boscawen to set me at -liberty, I might on certain conditions be inclined to make a promise."</p> - -<p>"What?" he cried eagerly.</p> - -<p>"I expect that in the ordinary course of things my trial will come off -in about a month," I said. "Well, if I am brought to trial, and you give -such evidence as will set me free, then when I am out of all danger I -might tell you what I know."</p> - -<p>"You do not trust me?"</p> - -<p>"Not a whit."</p> - -<p>"Yet you expect me to trust you."</p> - -<p>"A Trevanion never yet broke his word, while the promises of the -Endellion Killigrews are as brittle as pie-crust."</p> - -<p>I thought I was fairly safe in making this promise. I should in this -case insure my liberty; at any rate, I should give Otho a great -incentive to do his best to prove my innocence. Moreover,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> I had but -little to tell, even if I related all the suspicions to which I have -referred, and which shall be set down in due order. And even if my -information should be the means of placing the maid Nancy in Otho's -power, I should be at liberty to act on her behalf.</p> - -<p>"A month, a month," he said at length, as if musing.</p> - -<p>"During which time I shall be within the boundary walls of Launceston -Castle," I replied.</p> - -<p>"But if I go to Hugh Boscawen, and prevail upon him to give an order for -your release before the trial?"</p> - -<p>"Of course the promise holds good," and I laughed inwardly as I thought -how little I could tell him.</p> - -<p>"You will tell me where Mistress Nancy Molesworth is?" he cried.</p> - -<p>"I will tell you where I took her," I replied.</p> - -<p>"And why you took her away from Endellion?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>For a few seconds he hesitated as if in doubt. "In three days I will -return with an order for your release," he cried.</p> - -<p>After he had gone, I almost repented for what I had done, for I felt -afraid of Otho Killigrew. He played his cards in such a manner that I -did not know what he held in his hand. I realized that by telling him -who it was that employed me, I might give him an advantage, the full -meaning of which I could not understand. True, I should be at liberty -before telling him, and thus I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> fancied I should be free to take -action in the maid's defence. But on consideration I could not but -remember that his fertile brain might conceive a dozen things whereby, -although I might be free from the charge of treason, I could still be -made powerless to render service.</p> - -<p>However, nothing could be accomplished without risk, and possibly the -risk that I had taken was the least possible under the circumstances. I -therefore tried to make plans of action which I might carry into effect -the hour I regained my liberty. Presently the old thought of seeking to -escape grew upon me. Supposing I could get away from the castle, I -should at the end of the three days be free from pursuit, for once Hugh -Boscawen's warrant were in Pyper's hands he could no longer be justified -in searching for me. The difficulty was in getting away and then eluding -my pursuers until such time as the governor should receive Falmouth's -communication. I had many times considered the position of the Witch's -Tower, which was not far from the boundary walls of the castle grounds. -I saw that, in order to escape, I must first of all be able to either -break down the door or squeeze my body through one of the slits in the -walls of the tower. To do either of these things was not easy. The door -was heavy and iron-studded, besides being carefully locked; the slits in -the wall, which were really intended as windows, were very narrow, -certainly not wide enough for a man of my build to squeeze himself -through. But supposing this could be done, there were still the boundary -walls of the castle grounds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> which stood in the way of my escape. During -the hours of daylight, when I had been allowed to walk around the prison -grounds, I had carefully examined these, and I fancied I could manage to -scale them in one or two places. But they were closely watched through -the day, and at night I with the other prisoners was safely under lock -and bolt.</p> - -<p>Jenkins, the turnkey, was a man of average build and strength, and -should a favourable opportunity occur I could doubtless easily gag him -and take away his keys; but such an experiment was fraught with much -danger. Throughout the whole of the night following Otho Killigrew's -visit, during which time he was riding southward, I worked out my plans, -and when morning came prepared to carry them into effect. Although I -watched carefully through the whole of the morning no opportunity came, -and when the afternoon drew to a close and I had not even begun to act, -I felt exceedingly despondent.</p> - -<p>Two days after Otho Killigrew's visit, about an hour before sunset, I -saw Jenkins trying, as I thought, to catch my attention. He winked at me -several times, and placed his forefinger on his lip as though he -meditated on some secret thing. Lethbridge, however, was with him, and -so there was no opportunity for me to ask him what he meant. After a -while, however, seeing that Lethbridge had turned his back on us, he put -a letter in my hand.</p> - -<p>As may be imagined, as soon as I was able I broke the seal and read the -contents. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> written boldly in a man's hand. This was how it ran:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"At ten o'clock to-night the warder will visit you. He will be -alone. You must bind and gag him. Means to do this will be found in -his pockets. You must then leave the tower and make your way to the -angle in the boundary wall nearest your prison. You will there find -a rope hanging. On the other side of the wall you will find -friends."</p></blockquote> - -<p>I had never hoped for such a message as this. I had expected to be -shortly visited by Lawyer Hendy, but the thought that any one had been -planning for my escape had never occurred to me. Who my friends might be -I knew not, but they had evidently bribed Jenkins, at least such was my -thought.</p> - -<p>For an hour I was jubilant, but at the end of the time doubts began to -cross my mind. Was this some ruse of the Killigrews? Should I escape -only to tell Otho what I had promised him and then be captured by the -prison authorities? Again and again I looked at the handwriting. It was -altogether strange to me; but it was evidently the work of a man. Who -then but Otho would take such a step?</p> - -<p>And yet on reconsideration I thought he would know me better than to -believe I should answer his questions under such circumstances. He had -promised to prove my innocence to Lord Falmouth, and to obtain from him -a written warrant for my liberty. No, no; it must be some one other than -Otho. But who?</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p><p>Uncle Anthony!</p> - -<p>No sooner had the thought of him occurred to me than all my doubts -departed. The mysterious old hermit and storyteller had heard of my -condition, he had come to Launceston, and by methods peculiar to himself -had obtained an influence over Jenkins. Again I read the letter, and I -felt sure I saw his hand and mind in every word.</p> - -<p>Doubtless, too, he would be able to tell me much about the maid Nancy -which I desired to know, and perchance give me power over the -Killigrews. He had doubtless formed a plan of action and provided means -to carry it out. I could have laughed aloud, and even then I thought I -could see the grim smile upon the old man's face and the curious twinkle -of his deep-set eyes.</p> - -<p>Eagerly I waited for ten o'clock to come. Never did minutes seem to drag -along so wearily, never had the silence of my prison seemed so -oppressive.</p> - -<p>After much weary waiting, a clock began to strike. I counted the strokes -eagerly. It had struck ten. It was the church clock which struck, and I -knew that the jail was ordered by the time thereby indicated. For as all -who have been to Launceston know, the parish church is situated near the -castle, and is of rare beauty, while the sound of the bells seems to -come from the very heart of the ancient fortress.</p> - -<p>Knowing that the hour mentioned in the letter had arrived, therefore, I -was, if possible, more eagerly expectant than ever. My heart thumped -loudly at every sound, and in my heart I cursed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> the wailing of the wind -among the trees, because I thought it kept me from hearing the first -approach of my jailer.</p> - -<p>For a long weary time I waited, but no footsteps greeted my ears. I felt -my nerves tingling even to the bottom of my feet, and a thousand times I -imagined whisperings and altercations which had no actual existence.</p> - -<p>Presently the church clock struck again, and its deep tones echoed -across the valley towards St. Thomas' Church, and also towards St. -Stephen's, both of which lay in the near distance. Doubtless the rest of -the prisoners were asleep, and the sonorous sounds sweeping across hill -and dale was nothing to them. But to me it came like a death-knell to my -hopes. An hour had passed since the time mentioned in the letter I had -received had come, and still I had heard no one approach.</p> - -<p>I placed my body against the door and pressed hardly. It yielded not one -whit. I climbed to one of the windows in the wall and looked out. The -night was drear, the clouds hung heavily in the sky, neither moon nor -stars appeared. No sound reached me save the sighing of the wind among -the branches of the trees.</p> - -<p>Still I waited, still I listened—all in vain.</p> - -<p>The clock struck twelve.</p> - -<p>As the sound of the last stroke of the bell died away, I heard something -outside like the croaking of a raven; a few seconds later I heard -whispering voices.</p> - -<p>Again I climbed to the window in the wall and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> looked out. Beneath me, -perhaps ten feet down, I saw two human figures. One I thought I -recognized as Jenkins, the other was strange to me. The man whom I -concluded to be Jenkins carried a lantern in his hand, but it was but -dimly lighted. When lifted, however, it revealed to me a form wrapped in -a long cloak. No face was visible; it was hidden by a hood attached to -the cloak.</p> - -<p>"Open the door of the tower, I tell you."</p> - -<p>"I dare not." It was Jenkins who spoke, and his voice was full of fear.</p> - -<p>"But you promised."</p> - -<p>"I know I did; but I be feared, I tell 'ee. I shud be axed questshuns, -and I be es fullish as a cheeld."</p> - -<p>"I gave you money."</p> - -<p>"I know you ded; but there, I tell 'ee I caan't. Go 'way, do'ee now, or -we sh'll be vound out, an' it'll go 'ard wi oal ov us."</p> - -<p>"But I promised that all should be well with you, and that you should -have a big reward."</p> - -<p>"I knaw, I knaw. That maid you 'ad maade me veel silly, and she cud make -me promise anything, but that was in the daytime, when I wos as bould as -a lion. But tes night now, and I be feared, I tell 'ee. Besides, how -could you make et right fur me; ya be'ant nothin' but a youngish chap. -Who be 'ee? What be 'ee called?"</p> - -<p>"Who am I?" and as if by magic the voice which had reached me in a -hoarse whisper now became like that of an old woman. It was pitched in a -high key and it quavered much, save<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> when it took a lower tone, and then -it became like the croaking of a raven.</p> - -<p>"Open the door of my tower," said the voice.</p> - -<p>I could scarce help trembling myself as I heard the tones, but the -effect on Jenkins was more marked.</p> - -<p>"<i>Your</i> tower; oa my Gor!" he moaned.</p> - -<p>"Yes, my tower," said the voice, still alternating between the tones of -an old toothless woman and the hoarse croaking of a raven. "My tower; -the place where I was imprisoned, the place where I saw dark spirits of -the dead, and heard the secrets of those who cannot be seen by human -eyes. Here I lay, unloved, uncared for; here my bones were burnt and my -flesh was consumed; here my guilty soul took its flight, only to come -back and haunt my grim prison—sometimes in visible shape, sometimes -unseen save by the eyes of the departed. Open the door of <i>my</i> tower, I -say, or you shall suffer the tortures I suffered!"</p> - -<p>"Oa, my Gor, my Gor!" moaned the trembling voice of Jenkins, "tes -Jezebel Grigg, the witch."</p> - -<p>"Will you open the door?" continued the voice.</p> - -<p>"Oa I caan't!" whined Jenkins like one demented; "when you slocked me -out in the mornin', you wos a spruce chap, and 'ad a purty maid weth -'ee. Oa 'ave marcy 'pon me, mawther Grigg; have marcy 'pon me!"</p> - -<p>"Mercy," was the reply, "mercy! You have broken your word—disobeyed me. -What shall keep me from causing your flesh to drop from your bones, your -fingers to wither amidst agonies of pain, your every limb to burn even -as mine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> burned when the fires were lit around me? Do you want to keep -company with me, John Jenkins? Open the door, or prepare to go with me -to-night!"</p> - -<p>"Oa, I will, I will," moaned Jenkins; "I will; but how did 'ee git in -'ere? The doors and gaates be all locked."</p> - -<p>"What are doors and gates to Jezebel Grigg's spirit?" and the hooded -form laughed; and the laugh to my excited ears was like the croaking of -a raven into which the spirit of evil had entered.</p> - -<p>I heard the clanking of keys at the door, and a second later Jenkins -entered, the lantern shaking in his hand, his face pale as death.</p> - -<p>"I say, Maaster," he said, his teeth chattering, his voice quavering.</p> - -<p>"Yes," was my reply, and if the truth must be told my heart quaked -somewhat, for by his side was the strange hooded form.</p> - -<p>"Follow me, Roger Trevanion," said the voice.</p> - -<p>"Where?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"To freedom."</p> - -<p>"Freedom from what?" for I liked not the dark shapeless thing greatly, -although I seemed to be upheld in a way I knew not.</p> - -<p>"From the law, from the Killigrews," was the reply in a hoarse whisper.</p> - -<p>"Very well," was my reply. "I am ready to follow you."</p> - -<p>"John Jenkins, you will take Roger Trevanion's place this night," said -my deliverer.</p> - -<p>"No, no," cried John, "I darn't stay 'ere oal by myself in your tower."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p><p>"Speak as loud as that again, and you will follow me whither you would -not go. Listen, John Jenkins. You must stay here. I promise you this: no -harm shall come to you. I will not haunt the tower this night. There, -lie on the straw. If you make a sound before the church clock strikes -seven to-morrow morning you shall feel the power of Jezebel Grigg, the -witch who was burnt here. When you are asked questions in the morning, -tell the governor that you were seeing that all was safe for the night -when I came and put you here. Give me your keys."</p> - -<p>Like a thing half dead he obeyed, and though I was not altogether free -from superstitious fear I could not help laughing at the fellow's agony.</p> - -<p>"Now follow me, Roger Trevanion," said the hooded form, turning to me, -still in the voice of a toothless old woman.</p> - -<p>I followed without a word, but not without many misgivings, for although -I had professed to scorn the power of witches, I was at that time sore -distraught. Still she promised me liberty, and in my inmost heart I -believed that the creature was a friend.</p> - -<p>When we were outside the tower she locked the door carefully and placed -the key close by. After this she led the way to the angle in the wall -spoken of in the letter, where I saw the end of a rope ladder.</p> - -<p>"Climb, Roger Trevanion," she whispered.</p> - -<p>"You are a woman; go first," I said.</p> - -<p>"Climb, Roger Trevanion," she repeated imperiously; "your danger is -greater than mine."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p><p>Much as I disliked doing this I obeyed. A few seconds later I stood on -the top of the wall, and turning round I saw the dim outline of the -castle looming up into the dark sky, while lying beneath it was the -unwholesome den where the prisoners lay. Looking beneath me, I could see -the hooded form of my deliverer, standing as still as a statue. On the -other side I saw three horses saddled.</p> - -<p>"Hold the rope while I climb."</p> - -<p>I held the rope as commanded, and a minute later the woman stood by my -side.</p> - -<p>"Could you leap to that branch of the tree, and descend to the path that -way?" she said, pointing to the spreading branches of an elm-tree which -grew close by.</p> - -<p>"Easily," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Then hold the ladder while I descend."</p> - -<p>Like one in a dream I obeyed, and then watched while with great agility -she descended from fifteen to twenty feet below.</p> - -<p>"Now be quick," she said, "all is ready."</p> - -<p>At that moment my heart gave a great leap, for I heard a cry come from -the Witch's Tower. A wild, despairing cry, more like the yell of a wild -beast than that of a human being.</p> - -<p>I took my hands from the rope, and immediately it was pulled away. I was -on the top of the castle wall alone.</p> - -<p>"Be quick, quick, or all is lost," cried a voice peremptorily from -beneath.</p> - -<p>I did not hesitate, dangerous as my feat was. In the gloom of the night -I saw the dark branch of the tree; I gave a leap towards it and caught -it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> The branch yielded with my weight so much that my feet were only a -few feet from the ground.</p> - -<p>"Let go, let go!"</p> - -<p>I obeyed the command and dropped harmlessly to the ground.</p> - -<p>"Now be quick and mount!"</p> - -<p>A horse stood by my side, saddled and bridled. In an instant I leapt on -its back, noticing as I did so that I had now two companions instead of -one, and that they also mounted the horses that stood waiting.</p> - -<p>"Ride hard!" said my deliverer, turning her horse's face southward.</p> - -<p>I gladly obeyed, for I breathed the air of freedom. I was now outside -the great high walls within which I had been confined. The spring air -seemed sweeter there, while my heart grew warm again and all feelings of -fear departed. Midnight as it was, and dark as was the gloomy prison -from which I had escaped I seemed in a land of enchantment.</p> - -<p>Again a cry, a fearful agonizing cry came from the Witch's Tower, which -made me laugh aloud, for Jenkins' fears seemed foolish as I struck my -heels into my horse's sides.</p> - -<p>Neither of my companions spoke; they seemed as eager to get away as I. -We made no noise, for we rode through a meadow. Presently, however, we -jumped a low hedge, and then the iron hoofs of our steeds rang out on -the hard highway, but even as they did so we could hear the fearful cry -of John Jenkins, who lay imprisoned within the dark walls of the Witch's Tower.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI.</span> <span class="smaller">DESCRIBES MY JOURNEY FROM LAUNCESTON CASTLE TO A LONELY MANSION -ACCOMPANIED BY TWO WOMEN.</span></h2> - -<p>The events I have just described happened so suddenly that I was too -excited to think seriously who my deliverer could be. I knew that -Jenkins would arouse the other jailers, and that in a few minutes the -governor of the prison would be acquainted with the fact of my escape. I -was sure, moreover, that much as I believed he sympathized with me, he -would seek to do his duty as the constable of the castle and bring me -back to the prison again. It is true Otho Killigrew had promised to -arrive the next morning with a warrant from Hugh Boscawen to set me at -liberty, but upon this I could not depend. I knew, moreover, that should -I be brought to trial the fact of my attempted escape would go against -me. We had several things in our favour. I imagined that we were mounted -moderately well. My horse carried me with seeming ease, although it was -too small of bone to keep up speed through a long journey. The steeds of -my companions kept breast to breast with mine. In any case, it must take -Hugh Pyper some considerable time to get horses in order to follow us. -Then the wind blew from the northeast, and thus the sound of our horses' -hoofs would be wafted away from my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> late prison. It would be, therefore, -difficult for him to determine which way we had gone, especially as -about a mile out of the town there were several branch roads. The night -was dark, too, and thus to track us would be impossible, at any rate, -until morning came.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, however, I was unarmed and practically alone. As far -as I knew my companions were two women, and although one of them had -effected my escape in a marvelous way, I suspected that if fighting -became necessary they would be a hindrance rather than a help.</p> - -<p>This led me to think who they might be, and to wonder who it was that -had impersonated the witch Jezebel Grigg who had been buried in the -tower where I had been confined. For, once out in the free open air, all -superstitious dread had departed. That it was Uncle Anthony I could no -longer believe. True, the veiled figure was quite as tall as Jenkins, my -jailer; perhaps taller, but in no way did it remind me of the lonely -hermit with whom I had talked so long on the top of Roche Rock, and whom -I had left sick and wounded in the ruined chapel in the parish of St. -Mawgan.</p> - -<p>Presently every fibre of my body quivered with a great joy, my blood -fairly leaped in my veins, and I could have shouted aloud for joy. My -deliverer was the maid Nancy! She had heard of my arrest, had traced me -to my prison, and had provided means for my escape. Hitherto I had been -the deliverer, I had schemed and fought for her escape from Endellion; -now all had changed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> She had entered my prison walls and set me at -liberty, not for any selfish purposes of her own, but because of the -kindness of her heart.</p> - -<p>The thought was joy unspeakable; at the same time it filled me with -shame. She whom I had been willing to betray into the house of Peter -Trevisa for a bribe, had dared a thousand things to save me from danger -and possible death.</p> - -<p>A thousand questions flashed into my mind to ask her, but a weight was -upon my lips. She rode by my side, still covered with the dark mantle, -and still hooded. The other was doubtless her faithful serving-maid, -Amelia Lanteglos. True, her face was hidden and she spoke not, but even -in the darkness I thought I recognized her strong figure, recognized the -easy way she rode, even as hundreds of girls of her class rode in my -native county.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the horses dashed along freely, the road was good, and nothing -impeded our progress. When we came to the junction of roads close by -Lewannick, she did not ride straight forward towards Altarnun, but -turned to the left through Lewannick village, until we came to four -crossways, called Trevadlock Cross. Soon afterwards we reached another -church town, North Hill by name, close by which a friend of my father -lived, at a house named Trebartha Hall. But we did not stay here, much -as I should have liked under ordinary circumstances to have spoken to my -father's friend. We crossed the River Lynher, a clear flowing stream -which rushes between some fine rugged hills, and then continued on our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> -journey until we reached the parish of Linkenhorne.</p> - -<p>"If we keep on at this speed, we shall be in the town of Liskeard in a -little more than an hour," I said presently, feeling that I could keep -silence no longer. Indeed I wondered much afterwards how I could have -been speechless so long, feeling sure as I did that the woman I loved -was by my side.</p> - -<p>No reply, however, was made to me; and my companions never so much as -moved their hoods from their faces.</p> - -<p>By this time our horses showed signs of fatigue; especially was mine -becoming spent, for I was no light weight to carry.</p> - -<p>"It will be well to rest at Liskeard," I said, "if only for the sake of -the horses."</p> - -<p>"No, we must not stay there."</p> - -<p>She tried to speak in the same tone as when she had commanded John -Jenkins to open the door of the Witch's Tower, but I thought I detected -the voice I had learned to love in spite of the hoarse whisper.</p> - -<p>"I have not spoken to you, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I replied -quietly, "for I thought you desired not speech, and I would not have -said aught to you now; only in an hour it will be daylight, and my horse -cannot carry me many miles farther."</p> - -<p>I thought I saw her start as I mentioned her name, while her companion -made a quick movement. But neither gave answer to my words. Silently we -sped along, my steed panting much but still holding out bravely.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p><p>Presently we came to a steep hill, and in mercy to the poor animals we -had to allow them to slacken speed; indeed I sprung from my saddle and -walked by my horse's head.</p> - -<p>"We have ridden so hard that I have not had a chance to thank you for -this great service, Mistress Molesworth," I said; "indeed we had gone -several miles before I divined who you were. Words are poor, and they -cannot tell the gratitude I feel."</p> - -<p>She made no answer to my words.</p> - -<p>"At first I dared not believe it could be you; indeed I knew of no one -who could bring me deliverance;" and still she kept her hood closely -around her head, answering nothing.</p> - -<p>"Your heart is kind," I went on, "and unlike women generally, you are -not afraid of danger. Believe me, I am not ungrateful. I am your servant -for life. I am afraid you are still in danger, and I rejoice that I am -free to help you."</p> - -<p>Daylight was now dawning, indeed I could see the colour of her gray -cloak plainly.</p> - -<p>"Will you not pull aside your hood?" I said, scarcely thinking of my -words.</p> - -<p>She did not obey me, but I noticed her gloved hand tremble. I saw, too, -that she reeled in her saddle.</p> - -<p>"You are ill!" I cried, and then I rushed to her side, for she was -falling from her horse. During the hours of danger and hard riding she -had shown no sign of weakness, but now the danger was far behind, her -woman's weakness overcame her.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p><p>As I caught her, she fell in my arms like one in a dead faint; so I -laid her carefully on the grassy bank beside the road. By this time the -other woman had dismounted and had come to her side.</p> - -<p>"Watch here, while I go and fetch some water," I cried, and then seeing -a pool near by, I stooped and scooped some in the hollow of my hand. -When I came back, however, she was sitting up, and both women had drawn -their hoods more closely around their faces. If it were Mistress Nancy, -she did not wish me to recognize her. But it must be she, for who else -would have gone through so much to come to me? She must have travelled -with her companion some sixty miles through a lonely part of the country -in order to get to Launceston, and when there must have braved all sorts -of dangers in order to effect my liberty. The thought made my heart -swell with such pride and joy that my bosom seemed too small to contain -it. In spite of my baseness in selling myself to Peter Trevisa, she -could not altogether despise me. I knew now that I had never loved the -maid to whom I thought I had given my heart as a boy. My feeling for her -was only a passing passion, of no more importance than chaff, and as -light as thistledown. But all was different now. I was thirty-two years -of age, and I had given all the strength of my life to her. True, my -tongue was tied. I could not tell her of the fire that burned in my -heart—I was, I knew, unworthy. By that fatal confession, as we rode by -Tregothnan Gates through Tresillian, I had forever made it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>impossible -that she could think of me as I thought of her. Besides, I was homeless -and landless. Looking at her as she sat there on the dewy bank that -early spring morning, I would rather have lost my right arm than take -the wages of my service to Peter Trevisa. The purity and truth of her -life roused within me the nobility of my race. Better be a beggar from -door to door than accept the prize of base service. I who had ceased to -believe in the goodness of women, now realized that this maid made me -ashamed of all the past and caused to arise in me a longing for the pure -and the true. But my love for her was none the less hopeless. How could -it be, when I was minute by minute dogged by the memory of the hour when -I promised to be a Judas?</p> - -<p>"Are you better?" I asked as gently as I could, for I knew how boorish I -had become through the years.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes; we must hasten on. We may be followed." This she said like -one afraid.</p> - -<p>"But whither?" I asked. "If you would tell me your plans, your wishes, I -could perchance carry them out. But you are overwrought—you need rest."</p> - -<p>"No, no, I am quite strong. I can easily ride another thirty miles," and -her voice was hoarse and unnatural.</p> - -<p>"Even if you could, my horse is not fit to carry me so far," was my -reply.</p> - -<p>"But you are not out of danger."</p> - -<p>"We must be thirty miles from Launceston Town," I said, "and no one -could find me with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> ease even here. But to what spot did you intend that -I should go?"</p> - -<p>It seemed strange even then that I should be following the plans of a -woman; strange that a simple maid, as I believed her to be, should -provide for me a safe hiding-place.</p> - -<p>"I would rather not tell you," she replied; "that is, I think I had -better not. You can trust me?" This she said wistfully, I thought.</p> - -<p>"In everything," I answered eagerly, "but will you trust me, too? You -are not fit to travel further, and after a few hours' rest we shall all -be better. Let us go to yonder farmhouse and ask for food and shelter."</p> - -<p>"Such an act might be dangerous."</p> - -<p>"No. All our Cornish folk are hospitable; besides, my money has not been -taken from me. I can pay the good folk well."</p> - -<p>She eagerly caught at my proposal, so eagerly that I wondered at her -swift change of opinion. A few minutes later, therefore, I stood -knocking at a farmhouse door, asking for food and shelter for man and -beast.</p> - -<p>At first both the farmer and his wife looked at us suspiciously, but -when I told him of my deliverer's weariness, how that she had fainted -and fallen from her saddle, they gave us a warm welcome. Half an hour -later, I sat with these farmer folk at breakfast, but my companions, -still keeping their hoods tightly drawn around their faces, had followed -the woman of the house into another apartment.</p> - -<p>After breakfast the farmer's wife provided me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> with a couch, in what she -called "the pallor," where I gladly stretched my weary body and -immediately fell asleep. When I awoke the afternoon was well advanced. -Food was again placed before me, and after I had partaken thereof I went -out into the farmyard to look after the horses. I had scarcely reached -the stables when a sound reached my ears that made my heart sink like -lead. It was the noise of many voices, and was not more than a mile -away.</p> - -<p>Without waiting a second I threw the saddles on the horses, and then -rushed into the house. The farmer's wife had left the kitchen, leaving -my companions alone. They were still closely hooded.</p> - -<p>"Come," I cried, "we must start at this moment!"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"The hue and cry!"</p> - -<p>"I am ready," she said, quietly but resolutely.</p> - -<p>"Are the horses ready?"</p> - -<p>"They are saddled and standing in the yard."</p> - -<p>"Come then," and both left the room without another word.</p> - -<p>At that moment the farmer's wife came into the kitchen again. Thinking -it would be unwise to tell her our reason for leaving suddenly, I threw -two guineas on the table, and then with a hurried good-bye left.</p> - -<p>By this time the sound had become nearer, and my conjecture became -confirmed.</p> - -<p>"It may not be you they are after," she said; "they would hardly come so -far."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p><p>Perhaps she was right. I remembered that hours ere this papers might -have been placed in Hugh Pyper's hands commanding him to set me at -liberty.</p> - -<p>"Still it will be safer farther south," I said.</p> - -<p>By this time we had mounted our horses and were galloping along the farm -lane which led to the high road. She whom in my heart I called my love -was still clothed in her long gray cloak, her face still hidden from my -sight. All weakness seemed to have left her now; she was the embodiment -of resolution, and courage, and strength.</p> - -<p>The sounds of pursuers became fainter and more distant.</p> - -<p>"If we go through Liskeard at this speed we shall attract attention, and -if the people be following us, they will be informed of the direction we -have taken."</p> - -<p>"But we will not touch Liskeard," I said. "I know the country well now. -If you will tell me where you wish to go I will guide you by the least -traversed roads."</p> - -<p>"Go to Lostwithiel then," she said; "after that I will act as guide."</p> - -<p>Wondering at her words, I led the way through the village of St. Cleer, -leaving Liskeard on our left, until after more than two hours' hard -riding we came to the village of Boconnoc.</p> - -<p>Arrived here, I stopped suddenly, for a suspicion entered my mind as to -the place she intended to go.</p> - -<p>"Look you, my lady," I said, "we are at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>Boconnoc, five miles only from -Lostwithiel; will you tell me of your intended destination?"</p> - -<p>"You said you would trust me," was her reply.</p> - -<p>"I remember," I cried, harshly I am afraid, because for the first time -since boyhood the feeling of jealousy made me almost beside myself. "But -let me ask you one question. Is it your intention to go to Polperro?"</p> - -<p>"And if I do not desire to go there?" she said, after hesitating a few -seconds, "what then?"</p> - -<p>"I will go with you whither you will, asking no questions."</p> - -<p>"But you do not desire to go to Polperro?"</p> - -<p>I was silent, but I hoped that she understood my feelings.</p> - -<p>"In three hours, four at the most, we ought to be at our journey's end -if we ride hard," she said, "until then I ask you to trust me."</p> - -<p>With this I was fain to be content, and almost ashamed of myself, we -continued to ride southward. An hour later I saw that my suspicions were -groundless. We were going away from Polperro. After we had passed -Lostwithiel I asked her to be the guide, but she told me to lead on to -St. Austell, after which she would choose the road.</p> - -<p>About two hours after dark we entered a part of the country that was -strange to me, but my guide evidently knew the road well, for in spite -of the darkness she never hesitated as to the way we should take. -Presently we came to a lane, down which we rode for some distance, and -then stopped at a small house, which in the darkness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> looked to me like -a lodge. No sooner did we stop than a light shone, and a minute later I -heard a gate swing on rusty hinges.</p> - -<p>"All well?"</p> - -<p>"All well," was the reply, which I judged was spoken by an old man.</p> - -<p>We passed through the open way, after which I heard some one lock the -gates.</p> - -<p>By this time the sky, which had been cloudy all day, cleared. There was -no moon, but the stars shone clearly overhead. As well as I could I -looked around me, and saw that we were riding along what seemed to me a -disused carriage drive. Huge trees bordered the way, the branches of -which nearly met overhead. The leaves were far from fully grown, -however; and thus looking upward I could see the stars twinkling.</p> - -<p>The memory of that night will never leave me. Even now the feelings -which possessed me then come back. Everything seemed unreal. The dark -trees on either side of the way looked like tall spectres, the women who -had been with me since the previous night seemed mere phantoms of the -mind. The clank of the horses' hoofs grated on my excited nerves until I -felt like crying out.</p> - -<p>Neither of us spoke. I was too much wrought upon. Perhaps they were. -What had seemed reasonable enough in the day appeared like madness now. -In spite of what I had seen and heard I could not believe that the maid -Nancy would expose herself to so much danger in order to rescue me.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p><p>Darker and darker became the road, for huge evergreens, laurels, and -rhododendrons grew between the oaks. Moreover, I saw that we were -descending into a valley. The night winds swept among the trees, making -sweet music, but to me it was like the dirge of death. A bat darting to -and fro struck my face with its wing, and an owl hooted dismally.</p> - -<p>"How much further?" I asked, more because I wanted to hear the sound of -human voices than from desire to ask questions.</p> - -<p>But no reply was given, and but for the love in my heart, I felt, strong -man as I was, like giving way to fear.</p> - -<p>Presently I saw a faint twinkling light, and afterwards the dark outline -of a huge building appeared. A few minutes later we had come up close to -an ivy-covered house.</p> - -<p>My companions dismounted and motioned me to do the same. Then out of the -shadows came a man and took the horses. I heard a bell clang through a -seemingly empty building, and then the door by which we stood opened.</p> - -<p>"Come in."</p> - -<p>I obeyed, feeling more than ever that my experiences could not be real.</p> - -<p>"This way, please."</p> - -<p>I followed my companion without a word along a wide corridor, after -which I descended some steps, until I imagined I must be below the level -of the earth. Then she opened the door of a compartment, and we entered -together.</p> - -<p>It was a low-ceiled room, but looked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>comfortable and well-appointed. A -lamp burned brightly on the table, and a cheerful wood fire burned in -the chimney place. Before the fire a huge armchair was placed.</p> - -<p>"Will you sit here and rest? I will return presently."</p> - -<p>Mechanically I obeyed, and a moment later I was left alone. The room, -the house—everything was as silent as death. I walked around the -apartment, and stamped my feet to assure myself that I was not dreaming. -I held my hands before the wood fire, and lifted the logs from place to -place so that I might convince myself that I had not entered an -enchanted region, such as I had read about in my boyhood. Then I -examined the room more closely. I could nowhere discover a window. What -did it mean? Had I been removed from one prison to another? Had I been -mistaken as to the identity of my deliverer? Why had she kept her face -hidden? It must have been her. Who else would have undergone so much?</p> - -<p>I sat down in the chair, and stretched my legs wearily. Twenty-four -hours before I had sat straining my ears in the Witch's Tower of -Launceston Castle, and now I was immured in a far more lonely spot. I -had asked no questions because I believed that the woman I loved rode by -my side. Had I done right?</p> - -<p>A distant rumbling noise reached me. Where was I? To whom did this house -belong? By what right had I been brought here?</p> - -<p>I heard a knock at the door, and a second later an old man entered.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p><p>"If you will follow me, sir, you shall have change of raiment, and -water to wash with."</p> - -<p>Like one in a dream I followed him, and to my astonishment I found in an -adjoining compartment not only clothes but arms. A sword hung by the -wall, a pair of pistols lay on a table. The clothes were well made and -of good quality as befitted a gentleman.</p> - -<p>"Here is all you will want, I think, sir. When you have washed and -dressed will you be pleased to go back to the other room?"</p> - -<p>A few minutes later I had removed the muddy-stained garments which I had -worn in Launceston Castle, and had clothed myself in those which lay in -the room. They looked quite new, as though they had just come from the -hands of a tailor. They fitted me well, too; and I must confess to a -feeling of pleasure as I beheld myself.</p> - -<p>When I returned to the room into which I had at first entered, I found -that the table had been spread for food, but no one was in it. Again I -sat down and tried to think, but my mind seemed a blank—I was dazed -with the experiences of the last twenty-four hours.</p> - -<p>Presently my heart beat fast, for I heard light tripping footsteps -outside the room door. This was followed by gentle knocking.</p> - -<p>"Come in."</p> - -<p>The door opened, and to my joy Mistress Nancy Molesworth entered. She -met me with a smile, but there was, I thought, something distant and -repellant about it.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p><p>"Food will be immediately brought, Master Trevanion," she said. "I am -sure you must need it."</p> - -<p>"I need something more," I replied.</p> - -<p>"And that?" was the response. "Anything in my power to give, you shall -have."</p> - -<p>"The removal of mystery," I replied. "I have spent the whole of this day -like one in a dream. I seem to be enveloped in shadows."</p> - -<p>"I have much to tell you by and by," she answered.</p> - -<p>"And much to ask, too, I trust," I cried. "You have saved me from I know -not what; for I know it is you to whom I owe everything. You will let me -serve you, for verily you need service."</p> - -<p>"We will talk of many things at the proper time," she replied, "but food -is being brought."</p> - -<p>Both of us stood silent while the old serving-man brought food; then -when he had gone she turned to leave me.</p> - -<p>"Mistress Molesworth," I said, "you will not condemn me to eat my food -alone. May I be honoured with your company at supper?"</p> - -<p>She hesitated a second. "Thank you," she said, "you will desire quiet -after so much excitement. I will return to you to-morrow."</p> - -<p>I sat down with a sad heart, and ate the food with but a poor appetite. -During my meal I heard only one sound. It was that of a clock striking -the hour of midnight.</p> - -<p>After supper I went into the bedroom I have mentioned, and fell into a -deep sleep, from which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> I did not wake till late next day. When I got up -I hoped to see Mistress Nancy at once, and so was mightily disappointed -when the old serving-man brought me a message from her telling me that -she would not be able to visit me till night.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII.</span> <span class="smaller">MISTRESS NANCY TELLS ME MANY THINGS.</span></h2> - -<p>"I can think of nothing to say to you till I have thanked you again and -again for a service which I thought no woman could render."</p> - -<p>"It is of that which I do not wish to speak."</p> - -<p>"But I must. I did not believe a woman could possess such rare courage -and foresight. I did not believe a woman could plan so well, execute so -bravely. Especially do I wonder when I realize my own unworthiness. I -thank you from the depths of my soul."</p> - -<p>Mistress Nancy had visited my compartment as she had promised, and at my -request she sat on a low seat by the fire, while I stood leaning on the -back of the huge chair which I have mentioned. She wore the same -garments as when we had travelled together for the first time. Her face -was pale, but very beautiful; her dark eyes shone with a look of -resolution; her dark curling locks glistened in the lamp-light.</p> - -<p>"I did not mean you to know who your deliverer was. But it does not -matter." She spoke indifferently, I thought.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p><p>"It does matter!" I cried vehemently. "I should be base indeed if I do -not remember such service with gratitude until my dying day."</p> - -<p>"I did what no woman could help doing." This she said slowly.</p> - -<p>"I do not understand."</p> - -<p>"Yet there should be no difficulty in doing so. You rescued me, you -thought of me, acted for me."</p> - -<p>"Mention not that again," I replied bitterly, "I am sorely ashamed."</p> - -<p>"I do not mean the—the first part of the journey, but afterwards. I -have heard of your trial before Lord Falmouth, heard of what Otho -Killigrew said. You refused to tell all the truth because you feared to -hurt me. You did not wish that man to know anything concerning me."</p> - -<p>I wondered who her informant might be, but I did not speak.</p> - -<p>"When I knew you were taken to Launceston, and feeling sure that Otho -would show no mercy if you were brought to trial, I did my best. I could -do no other—I—I—would have done the same for any one."</p> - -<p>She spoke coldly; her tones were hard and unfeeling. My heart grew -chill; the hope that arose in me, in spite of myself, was dispelled.</p> - -<p>"Thank you," I said, as steadily as I could. "But why—why did you wish -me to remain in ignorance—as to who you were?"</p> - -<p>"Because I thought it was better so. No one who saw me in Launceston -would recognize me now."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p><p>"What disguise did you wear? What means did you use to—to effect my -escape; that is, beyond those I know of?"</p> - -<p>"I would rather not tell you."</p> - -<p>I was silent again, for her manner made me feel that she still scorned -me. I looked towards her; she was gazing steadily into the fire.</p> - -<p>"Where am I now?" I asked, after a painful silence.</p> - -<p>"At Restormel."</p> - -<p>"Ah!"</p> - -<p>"Does the fact surprise you?"</p> - -<p>"Everything surprises me. Nothing surprises me. I am somewhat dazed. -Restormel, that is your father's house, your own home?"</p> - -<p>"My father's house—yes. My own home—I know not."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" and at that moment I remembered the suspicions which -were aroused in my mind by Otho Killigrew's questions.</p> - -<p>Again she refrained from replying, her eyes still fixed on the glowing -embers.</p> - -<p>"Let me tell you something," I cried. "My thoughts may be groundless, -but it may be well for you to know them."</p> - -<p>Then I related to her the conversation I had had with the Catholic -priest at Padstow. At that time I had not regarded it of importance, as -it simply referred to a complaint about the unfairness of the marriage -laws, where Catholics were concerned. After this I told her of Otho -Killigrew's visit, of what he had said, and of the bargain we had made.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p><p>"On consideration I thought it best to promise him this," I concluded. -"He aroused certain suspicions in my mind, and I thought I could still -serve you if I were free. It may be I acted wrongly, but I thought it -was worth the risk."</p> - -<p>During the recital she uttered no sound. She seemed to be much changed -since that night when we had parted at Treviscoe.</p> - -<p>"And I—I have relieved you of the necessity of telling him anything, I -suppose?" she said icily.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied, feeling that she mistrusted me again. I longed to ask -her what had happened since the night I had left her with Peter Trevisa, -but I dared not; her manner froze the words on my lips.</p> - -<p>"You do not know why Trevisa asked you to take me to his house?" she -said presently.</p> - -<p>"I only know what he told me. I knew that was not all the truth. He -thought he had some hold upon you."</p> - -<p>"And you had no idea what it was?"</p> - -<p>"Not then."</p> - -<p>"And now?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing but what was aroused in my mind by what I have just told you."</p> - -<p>"Master Roger Trevanion," she said, rising from her seat and facing me, -"you tried to persuade me not to go to that man's house."</p> - -<p>"I did."</p> - -<p>"And I persisted in going. I did so for two reasons."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p><p>"And they?"</p> - -<p>"One was that you should be able to claim the price of your hire."</p> - -<p>"Do not taunt me with that."</p> - -<p>"The other was that I determined to find out the reason he had in -wishing to get me there. I had not been able to understand all the -Killigrews had hinted from time to time. I thought that Trevisa's -motives might have a connection with what they had said."</p> - -<p>"And you were not afraid?"</p> - -<p>"Women are not all so cowardly as you think. I might have acted -differently had his son been with him, but when I found him alone I -determined to stay until I had discovered what was in his mind."</p> - -<p>"And you discovered it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>I could not help admiring her as she stood there before me so brave, so -far-seeing, so resolute. She was barely twenty-one. She had revealed to -me all the weaknesses, all the tenderness of a woman; yet now, after -having accomplished what few men would think of attempting, she was -calmer than I. As I have said, she was taller and more largely formed -than most women, and the hand that rested on a table by her side was as -firm as a man's. No one could in any way associate her with littleness -or poverty of nature. Everything told of purity, of nobleness, of beauty -of life. Remembering my bargain with Trevisa, I dared not look at her; -but I was glad I had refused to take the price of my work.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p><p>I waited for her to continue, for I felt I had no right to ask her -questions.</p> - -<p>"You told me," she went on, "that Peter Trevisa was a cunning, -evil-minded man. You were right. Like all such men, he judged the -motives of others by his own. What he would do under certain -circumstances, he would expect others to do."</p> - -<p>"Yes, that is so."</p> - -<p>"He thought, acting on this principle, that if he could get me into his -house, I should be glad to fall in with his plans."</p> - -<p>"He told me that his son Peter had seen you at Endellion," I said; "that -he fell in love with you, that it was the intention of Colman Killigrew -to marry you to his son whom you hated, that I should be rendering you a -service by taking you to him."</p> - -<p>"Do not speak of his son's love," she said; "the thought of it is not -pleasant. It is true he told me the same story. I did not sleep in the -house that night. Directly after your lawyer had gone I told him I -desired to speak with him. He fawned and professed to be delighted. -Presently his real reasons for trying to get me into the house came out. -He tried to keep them back until his son came home, but in this he -failed."</p> - -<p>"And what were his reasons?" I asked eagerly in spite of myself.</p> - -<p>"The first was this: He said he could prove that my father's marriage -was illegal, and—and thus I had no true claim to the Restormel lands. -You suspected this?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p><p>I nodded.</p> - -<p>"He told me, moreover, that he alone possessed the knowledge whereby it -could be proved that I was not the rightful heir. If he did not disclose -what he knew, no one would doubt my rights; or even if they doubted, -they could have no case against me; if he told what he knew, I should be -penniless."</p> - -<p>"I see," I cried; "I see. Then he named the price of his silence."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Of course that was that you should marry his son. I see. It was -cunningly planned. He thinks his son Peter is a sort of Apollo, and he -imagined that you would desire to effectually stop him from speaking by -becoming his daughter. It would then be to his advantage to be silent."</p> - -<p>"That was a part of his plan, but not all. He has found out that I -possess knowledge of great importance."</p> - -<p>"Knowledge of great importance?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. It concerns the coming of Charles Stuart."</p> - -<p>"You have seen the Pretender!" I cried.</p> - -<p>"I have seen Charles Stuart. He visited the convent in which I was -educated. He came once when Colman Killigrew was present. He sought to -enlist my sympathies. I do not know why; but both he and Colman -Killigrew discussed plans in my presence."</p> - -<p>"And young Peter Trevisa found out this. How?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p><p>"Is your knowledge of such importance that it might be valuable to such -as Hugh Boscawen?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>I longed to ask further questions, but refrained from doing so.</p> - -<p>"Peter Trevisa believed that if I told him what I knew his son would be -able to make use of it. The father is very ambitious for his son. He -imagines that if he were to communicate important knowledge to the King -it would mean preferment—perhaps knighthood."</p> - -<p>"I see his plot."</p> - -<p>"I refused to marry his son."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"I told him that even were his statements as to my father's marriage -true, I would rather be penniless—than be bought."</p> - -<p>I do not think she meant it, but her words hurt me like a knife-thrust.</p> - -<p>"After that he changed his ground of attack," she went on quietly; "he -said that if I would tell him what I knew of Charles Stuart's plans, his -secret should die with him. He represented this as my duty. He said I -might be saving the country, as well as giving his son Peter the -greatest chance of his life. After this he went on to say that it was a -shame for me to be robbed of my rightful heritage because of an unjust -law."</p> - -<p>"And after that?" I broke in eagerly.</p> - -<p>"He said he would not have my answer that night; he would wait until -young Peter came home."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p><p>"And you, of course, refrained from giving him an answer?"</p> - -<p>"No. I told him that he could act as he pleased. Did I feel it a duty to -inform the authorities concerning what I knew, I should do so without -threat."</p> - -<p>"And what did he say?"</p> - -<p>"He denied all knowledge of threat. He called it an <i>arrangement</i>. He -used honeyed terms; he was full of flattery. He professed to be -delighted at my refusal to comply with his wishes, even while he used -many means to lead me to alter my mind. He called himself all sorts of -names for speaking to me in such a brutal way. He was only an old fool, -he said, and had not stated the case properly; but when young Peter came -back everything would assume a different aspect."</p> - -<p>I could easily imagine the scheming old wretch while she told me of this -interview. I could see his shifty, cunning eyes gleaming. I could hear -him using all sorts of honeyed terms in order to gain his ends.</p> - -<p>"And the conclusion of it all?" I asked at length.</p> - -<p>"I left the house that night."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"By means of Amelia. She found out the position of the stables. She -saddled the horses, and we left Treviscoe without any one knowing about -it."</p> - -<p>"And you came here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"But you are in danger. Peter Trevisa is as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> cunning as the devil. Both -father and son are like ferrets; they can crawl into any hole. They see -in the dark. In order to get here, you must have taken some one into -your confidence. That some one may betray your trust."</p> - -<p>She walked slowly across the room, and then came back to her former -position.</p> - -<p>"That night—when I left Endellion," she replied, "I took certain things -away with me. Little relics left me by my father. I had heard that the -house was left in charge of two old servants—one a kind of bailiff, who -was commissioned by Colman Killigrew to act as steward until I should -come of age."</p> - -<p>"I see, yes."</p> - -<p>"He has lived here all these years, with his wife. My guardian has -visited Restormel only occasionally, but old Adam Coad has been a -faithful old man. My father left a letter for me when he died, with -orders that I should read it as soon as I was old enough. In it he -mentioned this man as a faithful, loving servant. I wrote to Adam twice -while I was in France; but I received no reply from him."</p> - -<p>She ceased speaking, and I saw her lips tremble. Perhaps she remembered -that she was a fatherless girl, and that her path was beset with snares.</p> - -<p>"I accidentally heard while at Endellion that he was alive and that he -managed the estate under my guardian's supervision."</p> - -<p>"You brought your father's letter with you?" I suggested.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p><p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"But there is a lodge. We passed through the gates to-night."</p> - -<p>"Fortune favoured me. That morning, after I had escaped from Treviscoe, -just as I came up to the lodge gates, I saw two men talking to each -other. I heard the one call the other Adam Coad."</p> - -<p>"I see; and Adam received you?"</p> - -<p>"After I had proved to him who I was—yes."</p> - -<p>"And—and you trust him?"</p> - -<p>"He is all my father said of him, and more. He has been kindness itself -to me; through him I was able to bring you here. You are safe, too. Old -Adam, his wife, and a serving-man who has lived with them all these -years, are all, I verily believe, ready to die for me."</p> - -<p>"Then you are staying here in secret?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And you have heard nothing of the Trevisas?"</p> - -<p>"I know they have been searching for me."</p> - -<p>"But they have disclosed nothing concerning your father's marriage?"</p> - -<p>"No; I believe not."</p> - -<p>"You found out that I had been taken prisoner through Adam, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. He looks a quiet, inoffensive old man; but he is very shrewd and -not easily deceived. I told him that you had effected my escape from -Endellion, and he knew enough of the Killigrews to be sure that they -would have many schemes afoot."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p><p>"But if they suspect that you are here?"</p> - -<p>"They would have a difficulty in finding me. This house has many rooms -not easily discovered. This room is not known to the Killigrews. It is -underground. The doorway cannot be seen from the outside, and can only -be opened by touching a spring."</p> - -<p>"I see; and you will stay here until you come of age?"</p> - -<p>Again her lips trembled, and she moved nervously across the room.</p> - -<p>"I wish I could be of further service to you," I said at length. "I am -glad that you trust me enough to—to tell me what—what you have told -me. Will you trust me further? Will you tell me all you can about your -father's marriage? Believe me, I will rest neither night nor day until I -have found out whether there is any truth in Peter Trevisa's -statements."</p> - -<p>"You will have to stay here—in privacy. You are not safe," was her -reply. "That is, you must stay here until you can escape to France."</p> - -<p>"You forget," I replied, "you forget Otho Killigrew's promise. If he -hath laid such information before Hugh Boscawen as to lead him to give -an order for my freedom, all danger is gone."</p> - -<p>"You have still escaped from Launceston Castle."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but if Hugh Pyper receives Viscount Falmouth's warrant for my -freedom, he will say naught of my escape. Look, Mistress Nancy, let me -serve you."</p> - -<p>I spoke like a schoolboy. I thought nothing of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> difficulties, I almost -forgot the danger through which I had passed. Neither did I realize the -importance of the news she had just imparted. The last ten years of my -life seemed only a dream; I was a boy of twenty-two instead of a man of -thirty-two. The maid had made me long to do impossible things, to -undertake impossible missions. It has been said by some great writer -that a convent school destroys all foresight, all calculation in a young -girl's life. That continuous solitude, save for the companionship of her -fellow-scholars, and seclusion from the life of the world, lead her to -conjure up in her imagination all the romantic scenes which young girls -love, even although she has never heard of such things. That on leaving -the convent she is a prey to first impressions, and longings for love -and romance; thus she never troubles about results, never comprehends -difficulties and dangers.</p> - -<p>Mistress Nancy proved this man to be wrong. Of the depths of her nature -I knew but little, of her heart's longing I was ignorant; but she was -constantly revealing to me a rare power of penetration; she was cool, -courageous, and full of forethought. On the other hand, she seemed to -know but little of the world's wisdom. The thought of losing her wealth -caused her no apparent distress; the supposition that her father's -marriage was not legal seemed to bring no painful thoughts to her mind. -The bare thought of illegitimacy would bring anguish unspeakable to -some; Mistress Nancy seemed to reck nothing of it. In this sense she was -a child, ignorant of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> the ways and thoughts of the world; in others she -was capable of independent and daring action.</p> - -<p>"Believe me," I continued presently, "to serve you is the dearest -thought of my life. I owe it to you," I added as if in explanation.</p> - -<p>"It would be wrong for you to rush into danger," she replied calmly. "If -you are freed from danger, then I will claim your help again. But I have -friends, and I am not afraid."</p> - -<p>I looked into her eyes as she spoke, and I saw that no fear was -expressed there. She did not seem to realize her position, and yet her -words belied her apparent ignorance of the danger by which she was -surrounded.</p> - -<p>"You say that your knowledge concerning the Pretender is of importance," -I said, after a pause.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Is it right to keep it secret?"</p> - -<p>"I do not understand."</p> - -<p>"If Charles comes to England, it will mean civil war," I cried; "it will -mean that the whole country will be in turmoil. If the Pretender -succeeds in his design, a reign of ignorance, bondage, and oppression -will curse the country."</p> - -<p>"Tell me your reasons for saying this," she replied.</p> - -<p>"Are you a Catholic?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I do not know," was her answer. "I suppose so. I was trained in a -convent school, but I have been told that my father hated the Catholic -religion, and I know that he would hate nothing that was good. I am but -an ignorant girl; I think I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> must have purposely been kept ignorant." -This she said plaintively.</p> - -<p>"Let me tell you of these Stuarts," I cried. "Let me relate to you what -Charles I. and Charles II., as well as James II., have done for -England."</p> - -<p>I spoke eagerly; I told of the profligacy of the Stuart court, of the -wanton extravagance, and of the corruption of the race. I had proceeded -but a little way in my story, however, when I heard a quick footstep -outside the door, and immediately after an old man stood in the room.</p> - -<p>"Is anything the matter, Adam?" cried Mistress Nancy.</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear lady," answered he; "Colman Killigrew, his son Otho, and -others are nearing the house."</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII.</span> <span class="smaller">IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT UNCLE ANTHONY WAS MORE THAN A DROLL.</span></h2> - -<p>As may be imagined, Adam's message excited me much. What purpose had -Colman Killigrew in coming to Restormel so late at night? And Otho, what -was the meaning of his being present? Had either of them any suspicion -of my whereabouts? For myself I had but little fear, but what of Nancy?</p> - -<p>I looked eagerly into her face, but she was perfectly calm and composed. -Evidently she knew no fear.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p><p>"Can you think of their reasons for coming?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I think I can guess." Then turning to Adam she said: "You will, of -course, admit them?"</p> - -<p>"I must, my dear young lady," replied the old man, "I must. I should do -no good by refusing them, and I should arouse suspicion."</p> - -<p>"True."</p> - -<p>"Of course it will take some little time"; this he said meaningly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes. He will think you are in bed. And where will you put them?"</p> - -<p>"All right, my dear young lady," he replied mysteriously. "You need not -fear," he went on, "they shall never know that you are here."</p> - -<p>"No, I can trust you for that, Adam"; then her eyes rested on me.</p> - -<p>"Master Roger Trevanion is as safe as you are," he said quickly.</p> - -<p>"You are certain?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly."</p> - -<p>"That will do. We will stay here until you come."</p> - -<p>The old man bowed and left us, and Mistress Nancy gazed steadily into -the fire for some time as though she were ignorant of my presence.</p> - -<p>"Master Roger Trevanion," she said presently, "I did not know you cared -so much for your country. In the past you have seemed indifferent as to -what king reigned, Catholic or Protestant."</p> - -<p>"Until I knew you I was practically indifferent," I replied humbly. "I -cared for little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>besides my own enjoyment. In a way, I was a loyal -Protestant, and would have fought for King George; but it would have -been for self-advancement chiefly, and—and because I loved a fight."</p> - -<p>"And now?"</p> - -<p>"You have made me ashamed of myself in more ways than one," I replied.</p> - -<p>"And you do not wish a Stuart to return to the throne?"</p> - -<p>"He would curse the country."</p> - -<p>Again she was silent for a few seconds, still gazing steadily into the -fire.</p> - -<p>"Would you play the spy?" she asked presently.</p> - -<p>"No," I replied roughly. Then I started, for I heard the clang of a bell -resounding through the empty house.</p> - -<p>"Not for the sake of King George?"</p> - -<p>"I would rather some one else did it," I replied.</p> - -<p>"But if no one else would do it, or could do it?"</p> - -<p>I was silent.</p> - -<p>"And if thereby you could possibly save your country from a great -calamity?"</p> - -<p>"I am not a mole," I replied. "I cannot burrow in the ground. I like to -fight in the open."</p> - -<p>At that moment we heard the sound of voices, among which I recognized -that of old Colman Killigrew.</p> - -<p>"We need not be alarmed," she said. "The Killigrews know nothing of this -room." Then she sat gazing into the fire again, while I fell to -wondering what was in her mind.</p> - -<p>"You said just now that you wanted to serve me?" she said presently.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, yes," I whispered eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Would you play the spy in order to save me from calamity?"</p> - -<p>"Do not put it that way," I said bitterly; "but I would do anything that -a gentleman could do to serve you. You have made me love what is -honourable, you have made me hate that which is mean."</p> - -<p>"Would it be mean to discover the plottings of my enemies?" she asked -tremulously.</p> - -<p>"No, no," I answered eagerly. "Such a work would be worthy of any man. -Command me, Mistress Nancy. Tell me of the man who has plotted against -you, and I will go to him and tear his secret from him."</p> - -<p>"Wait!" was her answer.</p> - -<p>At this moment I heard a low rapping at the door.</p> - -<p>She wandered slowly around the room for some minutes speaking never a -word; then turning to me suddenly she said:</p> - -<p>"Follow me if you would serve me."</p> - -<p>She touched a spot on the door, and immediately it swung on its hinges. -I followed her into the passage, and up a long flight of stairs.</p> - -<p>"Whither are we going?" I asked presently.</p> - -<p>"To a secret place in the house," was her answer; "you will be safer -there."</p> - -<p>"But you told me I was safe yonder."</p> - -<p>"Will you not trust me?" she said. "You said you would serve me."</p> - -<p>I followed her without another word. Had she told me to go to my death, -I think I should have obeyed.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p><p>Presently she opened the door of an apartment.</p> - -<p>"Enter there," she said; "do not make a sound of any sort. Wait in -perfect silence until I return."</p> - -<p>I entered.</p> - -<p>"You can trust me, can't you?" she whispered.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes!" I answered. "I will obey you to the very letter."</p> - -<p>"Mind, make no sound. Do not move."</p> - -<p>"Very well. Are you not coming with me?"</p> - -<p>"No. Walk four paces into the apartment. Make no sound."</p> - -<p>I did as she commanded me; then I heard the door close and I was left in -perfect darkness.</p> - -<p>I waited minute after minute in silence, wondering what she meant by -such strange conduct. Under other circumstances I should have tried to -get a light, and have examined the room in which she had left me; but I -had given my promise, and I would abide by it. Besides, was I not doing -this to serve her? I called to mind the rapping I had heard while we had -been in the other room; that was doubtless a signal between her and -Adam.</p> - -<p>How long I stayed there I know not. I was like one stunned by a heavy -blow; my mind was bewildered—everything was as confused as a dream. -Sometimes I thought I <i>was</i> dreaming.</p> - -<p>Presently I heard a sound of approaching footsteps. Several people -seemed to be coming straight to the spot where I sat. Had Mistress Nancy -been mistaken? That she had in any way betrayed me was not to be -considered. I saw no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> light, but I could hear footsteps and voices -plainly. A few seconds later, it seemed to me that people were so near -that I had need only to stretch out my hand in order to touch them. All -the same this could not have been. No one had entered the apartment, of -that I was sure.</p> - -<p>"Now then we can get to business."</p> - -<p>It was old Colman Killigrew who spoke, and his voice sounded strangely -near. He might be standing close to my ear.</p> - -<p>"We have need, and that quickly."</p> - -<p>I gave a start. The voice was Uncle Anthony's, and he spoke as one -having authority. Instinctively I stretched out my hands, but I touched -nothing. Why were these men's voices so plain?</p> - -<p>"How many swords can you command?" asked Otho Killigrew.</p> - -<p>"In twenty-four hours, a thousand," replied Uncle Anthony.</p> - -<p>"And Hugh Boscawen hath five thousand," was old Colman Killigrew's -rejoinder.</p> - -<p>"Yes, but where be they? Here, there, everywhere. He hath gone about -this work like a fool. No method—no order. Besides he is ignorant of -what we know. To-night is Wednesday. To-morrow night at this time -Charles lands at Veryan Bay. We must meet him with a thousand men. Then -must we go silently to Tregothnan, and make Boscawen prisoner. When the -true king lands, and Boscawen appeareth not, the very men who would have -fought against us will be for us. Besides, is not the man John Wesley a -papist? True, I have not seen him, but rumour hath it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> that his -followers long for the return of a Catholic king."</p> - -<p>"You depend too much on rumour, Father Anthony," said Otho moodily.</p> - -<p>"What say you?"</p> - -<p>"That I have ceased to trust you," replied Otho boldly. "I cannot forget -the part you have played in the flight of Nancy; or in your treatment of -Roger Trevanion. It is well to have that matter settled. We trusted you, -and you failed us; but for you Mistress Nancy would have been my wife -ere this."</p> - -<p>"And you would have regretted it to your dying day. Think you I am a -fool, Otho Killigrew?"</p> - -<p>"Why should I have regretted it?" asked Otho sullenly.</p> - -<p>"Time will show, my lad. He who weds a loveless wife must have -sufficient reasons for doing so."</p> - -<p>"And were not my reasons sufficient?"</p> - -<p>"They were built upon thistledown, Otho Killigrew."</p> - -<p>"Why did you not tell me this?"</p> - -<p>"Because you chose to act without me, or rather to act against me. Have -you not known me long enough to be sure I would do nothing without -purpose. Bah! you thought you were very wise. You got Trevanion -imprisoned, you tried to arouse suspicion concerning me, and then like a -fool you visited him at Launceston Castle."</p> - -<p>"But that has done no harm. He has escaped."</p> - -<p>"True; but before he did so, you proved his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> innocence to Hugh Boscawen, -and obtained a warrant for his liberty. Now we have no hold upon him. He -hath gone, whither I know not. His whereabouts is as great a mystery as -that of the maid Nancy herself."</p> - -<p>"Then you know not where she is?"</p> - -<p>"I know nothing. I have been busy doing other work, or I might have set -to work to discover. I know Trevanion took her to Peter Trevisa's."</p> - -<p>"To Peter Trevisa's! Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because—well, Peter Trevisa knows more of Nancy Molesworth, aye, and -of this very house and the lands surrounding it, than you do. Peter -Trevisa holds everything like that!"</p> - -<p>"Ah!" cried Otho Killigrew.</p> - -<p>"Enough of this," cried old Colman Killigrew, "all that can wait now. -More pressing matters come first."</p> - -<p>"I know it, Colman Killigrew," replied Uncle Anthony; "but this son of -thine thinks he is very wise in suspecting me and in seeking to thwart -my purposes. It is well to prove to him that he is a fool. He should -learn to obey before he seeks to command."</p> - -<p>"Well, and the other matter; is all ready?"</p> - -<p>"It is. That is why I have ordered you here to-night. We must make this -our centre. The house is isolated and practically uninhabited but for -the man who obeys you implicitly. Here we can speak freely. There is a -lonely road leading from the house to the sea; we can come and go -without suspicion at least for three days."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p><p>"Why three days?" asked Otho.</p> - -<p>"I say three days, because I do not know what is in Peter Trevisa's -mind."</p> - -<p>"What of him? What hath he to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot tell yet; when Charles hath landed, and starts his march -through Cornwall and Devonshire, I, the old hermit, may have time to -think of other things."</p> - -<p>"You are right," replied old Colman. "And now there is work to do. The -men must be gathered."</p> - -<p>"They are being gathered," replied Uncle Anthony.</p> - -<p>"And armed."</p> - -<p>"That is being done. If our work is done silently through the next two -days all will be well. Our great danger is that Hugh Boscawen shall hear -of it. If he does, we are lost."</p> - -<p>"You speak strongly," said old Colman Killigrew; "you speak strongly, -Father Anthony."</p> - -<p>"Because I feel strongly. I tell you much depends, very much depends on -the next few days. Oh, I know! Have I not gone around to almost every -house in the county? Have I not worn a dozen disguises? Have I not -wormed my way into the confidence of the faltering, and given courage to -cowards? Here I have been a droll, a story-teller, there a priest -hearing confessions and commanding service. To many a man I have gone -who longed for the true faith and dared not confess it, and to each I -have brought hope and courage. Many and many a night have I sat in my -lonely hiding-places thinking, thinking of this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> time and preparing for -it. To-day, through my labours, and I make no boast, there be fifty -heads of houses in this county ready not only to do battle themselves, -but to lead their dependants, who but for me would have timidly cried, -'Long live King George II.' This I have done quietly, secretly. -Pronounced Protestants have scarcely suspected it, and Hugh Boscawen, -fool that he is, thinks the whole county is loyal to those German -usurpers."</p> - -<p>"I know you have worked hard, Father Anthony," replied old Colman -Killigrew. "Many and many is the hour that you and I have talked -concerning these matters at Endellion; through you we are a strong -chain, whereas without you we should have been loops of iron which have -no connection."</p> - -<p>"And no one knows of the coming of Charles Stuart?" asked Otho -Killigrew.</p> - -<p>"Not yet; it is not well. We must be silent; silent as death. Still if -we are wise there will be no need to fear. There be many thousands who -are true to our cause. Let Charles come, let the people see him at the -head of a few hundred men, and they will flock to his standard as sheep -flock together at the sound of the barking of the shepherd's dog. All -the same, this Hugh Boscawen, this Viscount Falmouth must not know, for, -fool though he may be, he hath much power."</p> - -<p>All this I heard, scarce thinking of what it meant. All was so sudden, -so mysterious. But when Uncle Anthony finished speaking, the purport of -it all flashed upon me like light. I saw,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> or fancied I saw, Mistress -Nancy's purpose in conducting me to this room. She wished me to know the -plans of these men; she knew, too, of the cunningly contrived -arrangements whereby the sound was conveyed from one room to the other. -All the same, I liked not the thought that she had made me an -eavesdropper, although, doubtless the two rooms had been constructed by -the Molesworths for some such purpose as this, and they were honourable -men.</p> - -<p>I dared make no sound, for by so doing I had put myself in extreme -danger, and I could not get out. So I sat there while they unfolded -their plans, the gist of which I have here written down. Truly my -bargain with Peter Trevisa had led me a pretty dance, and yet, but for -the motive thereof, I did not wish matters otherwise.</p> - -<p>Presently they prepared to depart, for the which I was truly glad, for -my limbs were becoming cramped. I dared not move, for I reflected that -sound would be conveyed to them as clearly as to me, and by and by, when -I heard their retreating footsteps, I started up with great relief and -stretched my long limbs with much comfort.</p> - -<p>After a long time, for so it seemed to me, I heard a scratching at the -door.</p> - -<p>"Come," said a voice which I had learned to know, although it spoke but -in a whisper.</p> - -<p>I hurried towards the door, and saw in the dim light the face of my -love. After that, and without speaking a word, I followed her into the -room where my meals had been brought. When<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> the door was closed, I -looked into her eyes eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Well?" she said questioningly.</p> - -<p>"You led me there for a purpose," I said.</p> - -<p>I thought I saw laughter in her face.</p> - -<p>"Adam is a wise old man, and knows the house inch by inch; knows its -history, its secret places."</p> - -<p>"And he led them there with an object?" I persisted.</p> - -<p>"You refused to play the spy, Master Trevanion," she whispered with a -low laugh, "and yet——" and there she broke off without finishing the -sentence.</p> - -<p>"Mistress Nancy," I cried, "you are sure you are safe here?"</p> - -<p>"Have you not had proof?"</p> - -<p>"Then I must away!"</p> - -<p>"Away?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I have heard strange things. I tell you I must leave the house -this very hour."</p> - -<p>"But why?"</p> - -<p>"Can you not guess?" Then I knew that although she had not heard a word, -she was aware of the subject of their conversation. Her face I thought -grew paler, and her hands trembled slightly.</p> - -<p>"They do not know where I am," I went on, "neither have they any clew to -your whereabouts. They do not guess you are here, but I must away. Can I -have a horse?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, it is impossible. There are many men about the house. They are -watching everywhere."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p><p>"Then I must away on foot."</p> - -<p>"Is it urgent?"</p> - -<p>"Let me tell you all I heard," I cried; "for their every word came as -plainly to me as if I sat in their midst. The Pretender is to land at -Veryan Bay to-morrow midnight."</p> - -<p>"So soon?"</p> - -<p>"Ah," I cried, "that was the secret which Peter Trevisa wished you to -impart? You had heard that he intended landing in Cornwall?"</p> - -<p>She did not speak, but her silence told me of many things.</p> - -<p>"I go to Tregothnan," I cried. "I go this very hour. Adam Coad must let -me out. Surely he knows of the secret ways."</p> - -<p>She hesitated a second; then she said: "No, Adam must know nothing of -this. I will conduct you. But you are sure it is right to tell Lord -Falmouth."</p> - -<p>"It is more than right," I cried; "I shall perchance save the country -from civil war."</p> - -<p>She looked at me as if in great doubt.</p> - -<p>"But if the Catholic faith is the true one," she cried, "and if Charles -Stuart is the lawful heir to the throne—then——" and her lips trembled -piteously as if she were in sore straits.</p> - -<p>"I am no great hand at theology," I said; "but I know that Popery is -lies, oppression, cruelty, ruin! We have had enough of it in England. If -the Pretender lands and Hugh Boscawen is taken prisoner, it will mean -brother fighting against brother, perhaps father fighting against son. -The whole country will be in tears. We shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> have the rack, the -thumbscrew, the faggot back again. As for the Stuarts, they have proved -themselves to be a race of scoundrels."</p> - -<p>I spoke warmly, for now that I was brought face to face with facts, I -saw everything in a new light. The earnestness of my race rose up within -me, and even then I felt ashamed of the useless life I had lived.</p> - -<p>"Are you such a Protestant, then?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"All my race have been for two hundred years," I cried; "and the reign -of a Stuart will mean a deathblow for all who try to uphold liberty and -truth."</p> - -<p>"But you will be in great danger."</p> - -<p>"I must go nevertheless. Guide me, Mistress Nancy, and that quickly."</p> - -<p>I pulled on my boots as I spoke, and buttoned my coat closely around me.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes," she replied, eagerly. "But you will need arms. Wait; I will -fetch you sword and pistols."</p> - -<p>In a few seconds she had returned. "This is a sword which my father -wore," she said, her voice trembling.</p> - -<p>My heart leapt wildly. She could not scorn me, if with her own hands she -had brought her father's sword.</p> - -<p>"I will use it for no unworthy cause, Mistress Nancy," I cried. "I will -strike no blow for anything which your father would condemn."</p> - -<p>"Come, come," she said. "Adam showed me the way only a few days ago. -Come! But you will be careful?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p><p>Again my heart seemed to burn within me. It may seem but little to the -reader, indeed the matter was trivial, yet I rejoiced beyond measure to -think that she was anxious for my welfare.</p> - -<p>I accompanied her along an underground passage, then we climbed some -stone steps, and presently I stood by a low doorway. Taking a key from -her pocket she unlocked the door, which opened into a dark shrubbery.</p> - -<p>"You see that path?" she whispered.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"It leads to the woods. I can tell you no more. But be careful; there -are watchers all around, for the Killigrews are not yet gone. God be -with you!"</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, Mistress Nancy."</p> - -<p>"No, only good-morning."</p> - -<p>"And you will be careful, Mistress Nancy. Do not let them see you. If I -did not think you were safe I know not if I could go—even now. But when -I may, I will come back, I will serve you with my whole heart."</p> - -<p>"I am safe, go—but be careful. Good-morning. When you return come to -this door and give three knocks."</p> - -<p>I rushed up the path she had pointed out, and heard the door close -behind me as I went. I had not gone far, however, before I saw a dark -form moving among the trees.</p> - -<p>"Who goes there?" said a voice.</p> - -<p>I made no reply, but rushed on.</p> - -<p>"Stop or I fire."</p> - -<p>At this I made a sudden halt.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIV.</span> <span class="smaller">OTHO KILLIGREW USES AN OLD PROVERB.</span></h2> - -<p>There was no help for it. I had to wait till the man came up.</p> - -<p>"All is well!" I said, in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"But who are you?—why——!"</p> - -<p>Before he could speak again or raise his musket. I struck him heavily. -He fell like a log of wood, senseless, inert. I lifted my hand to strike -again; but it is hard striking an unconscious man, and I refrained. -Besides I felt sure it would be some time before he would regain his -wits again, meanwhile I should be perhaps a mile on my way.</p> - -<p>I therefore left him lying there, while I sped through the woods like a -deer. Who he was I knew not, but I suspected that he was some follower -of the Killigrews, who watched while his masters discussed their plans -within the house.</p> - -<p>I had but a vague idea of the right direction, for the trees were dark -and high, and I was not much acquainted with this part of the country. -Nevertheless, being country-bred, and having often to travel by night, I -did not fear going far wrong. In half an hour I reached a lane, and then -I took my bearings.</p> - -<p>Listening, I heard the splash of the waves on the sea-coast near. This I -knew lay southwest, so I was able to choose my direction without -difficulty. Tregothnan lay a good many miles southward; I heeded not the -distances, however,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> my one purpose was to reach Hugh Boscawen's house -without mishap. Once out in the open country the night was not dark, and -I felt no weariness. My fear was that Otho Killigrew should overtake me. -I was sure that the man I had struck down would relate his adventure, -and that Otho Killigrew, in spite of what Uncle Anthony had said, was as -clever as the devil himself. Moreover, as I rushed on, I could not help -believing that the man had recognized me. Possibly he had come from -Endellion, and had seen me there. This lent wings to my feet, for should -Otho and his satellites follow me on horseback, I should be in a sore -predicament. Presently my fear became a terror. If the man had -recognized me, and had revealed the fact to the Killigrews and Uncle -Anthony, would they not connect my presence with Mistress Nancy? For a -moment my heart ceased to beat, but presently comfort came. My love, in -spite of her youth, was no simpering, helpless chit of a maid. She would -know how to hold her own; with old Adam as her friend she could outwit -all the Killigrews. Then another thought came to me which assured me -much. I was confident that Uncle Anthony was the maid's friend. I called -to mind a dozen things which had happened during the time I was with him -on Roche Rock. I remembered the way he spoke when he was left wounded -and helpless in the old chapel in the parish of St. Mawgan. Their -purposes might be one with regard to the Catholic faith and the coming -of Charles Stuart, but I felt sure that the mysterious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> old man loved -Mistress Nancy, and that he loved not Otho Killigrew.</p> - -<p>This made me feel kindly towards him, and although I had it from his own -lips that he had been spending his life in preparation for the coming of -the Pretender, I thought of many plans whereby I might be able to help -him, if I reached Hugh Boscawen.</p> - -<p>While these thoughts passed through my mind, I rushed on with unabated -speed. The morning had only just begun to dawn, and no one had molested -me. I therefore began to have hopes that I should fulfil my mission -without mishap. Just as I caught the first glimpse of the rising sun, -however, they were rudely dispelled.</p> - -<p>I had at this moment just reached the brow of a hill, and saw the -entrance gates to one of the roads which led to Hugh Boscawen's house. -They were not much more than a mile distant, and I fancied that, once -inside them, my dangers would be over. By this time, as may be imagined, -I was sore spent, for I had run a great part of the way. I therefore -contented myself with walking down the hill towards the gates, but had -not gone far when I heard the sound of galloping horses. Turning, I saw -two men riding towards me. They were Otho Killigrew and another man.</p> - -<p>I started to run, holding my sheathed sword in my left hand, but I saw -that such a course would be useless. They were evidently well mounted, -and I was spent and weary. Each side of me great hedges towered up, -covered with hazel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> bushes. If I tried to escape into the fields by -climbing over one of them, they would shoot me like a dog.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" cried Otho.</p> - -<p>For answer I cocked one of the pistols Mistress Nancy had given me. At -least I would fight to the very last. Otho saw my action, and a second -later two pistol-bullets whizzed by me, one tearing the sleeve of my -coat. Evidently both of them had fired. Perhaps the movements of the -horses had caused them to miss their aim. My hands trembled because of -my long journey, otherwise I was fairly calm. I fired at Otho. Seeing my -action, he spurred his horse furiously, and my bullet just escaped -him—instead it struck the horse of the man who accompanied him. This -made the animal rear and plunge mightily, and a second later the fellow -lay sprawling on the ground. The horse, however, after some capering, -galloped madly away.</p> - -<p>"Come," I thought, "this is good work," and lifting my other pistol I -shot at Otho's steed, rather than at its rider. I thought the bullet -struck the animal, but Otho was a better horseman than his companion. He -kept his seat firmly.</p> - -<p>I had now no weapon save my sword, for there was no time to re-load, so -I started running again, taking as many turns as a hare in the road, so -as to give Otho as little chance as possible to take aim. Another bullet -whizzed by, and still I was unharmed. I wondered how much ammunition he -had, and in spite of my danger I hoped that I should come well out of -the business. For if it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> became a question of swords, I had no fear. -Otho was no swordsman, while his companion, as far as I could judge, was -only a common serving-man, who would have but little knowledge of -fencing.</p> - -<p>I heard another pistol shot, and at that very moment I felt something -strike my side and burn me, as though a red-hot knife had been placed on -my flesh.</p> - -<p>In spite of my struggles to stand upright, I stumbled and fell. In -falling I struck my head against a stone which stunned me somewhat.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" I heard Otho say, "that is well. Come, Juliff, we shall soon -settle this business."</p> - -<p>In spite of my fall I kept my eyes open, and saw Otho dismount. He -seemed in great good humour, for he laughed aloud, while his companion -limped slowly after him. He drew his sword as he came near me, and never -did I see such a look of devilish gloating as rested on his face at that -moment. The man seemed utterly changed. He was no longer the -slow-speaking, almost religious-looking man I had known. His eyes burned -red, and he laughed in such a way that for the moment I forgot the -burning pain at my side.</p> - -<p>"It is my turn now, Roger Trevanion," he said, and his voice fairly -trembled with passion. "And he who laughs last laughs best. You have -beaten me many times. Oh yes, I'll give you your due. You've beaten me -many times. You are a man with brains, that I will admit, but so is Otho -Killigrew. You got away from Endellion and took Nancy with you, that's -once; you mastered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> me at the inn up by St. Mawgan, that's twice; you -got away from Launceston Castle after you knew I should gain your -freedom, and that's three times. And now my turn hath come!"</p> - -<p>These last words came slowly, and seemed to pass through his set teeth; -this I noticed, although I was still somewhat dazed by my fall.</p> - -<p>"You are in my power, Master Roger Trevanion," and he held his sword -close to me, "and now before I make you swallow six inches of steel, I -will tell you something else: Mistress Nancy Molesworth is in my power -too. And this I will add: Otho Killigrew's intentions are no longer -honourable, for reasons that you can guess as well as I."</p> - -<p>There was such a fiendish tone in his voice, and his words gave me such -a shock, that my strength came back to me as if by a miracle. Before he -could hinder me I had at one bound leapt to my feet and drawn my sword. -The pistol shot no longer hurt me one whit; my right arm felt no -weakness.</p> - -<p>"They do laugh best who laugh last," I cried; whereupon I attacked him -violently, and as he was no swordsman he fell back from me.</p> - -<p>"Juliff, Juliff," he cried, but Juliff was so crippled by his fall that -he was no longer able to help his master. Then a strange light came into -his eyes, and his guard became weaker and weaker, until I wondered what -it meant, for all the Killigrews were fighters in one way or another.</p> - -<p>I do not say that Otho Killigrew was not a brave man. In the ordinary -meaning of the word, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> knew no fear, and could meet death as bravely -as another. But directly he knew that my wound was not mortal, and that -I had retained my mastery of the sword, he became a schemer and a -plotter again. In short, the Otho Killigrew who thought I was powerless -and the Otho Killigrew whose sword clashed against mine were two -different men. Keeping one eye on me, he gave a glance at Juliff who had -dragged himself to the hedge side. Evidently the man had broken some -limb in his fall from the horse, for one arm hung limp, and he groaned -loudly.</p> - -<p>For my own part I had no mercy in my heart, and I had made up my mind to -kill him. That I was able to do this I had no manner of doubt. As I have -said he was no swordsman, and although my side ached sorely, the sinews -of my right arm seemed like steel bands. But for those words he had -spoken about Nancy, I should have contented myself with disabling him by -a flesh wound, but remembering what he had said, I felt I could be -satisfied with nothing less than his death. I think he saw this as he -looked into my eyes; for his face became pale and ashen; and he gasped -like a man whose throat is nearly choked.</p> - -<p>"He who laughs last laughs best," I repeated grimly, and then he was -certain that he would get no mercy from me.</p> - -<p>He was not like his brother Benet. That giant would never dream of -yielding, his one thought would be to fight to the very last—but Otho, -as I said, had again become cool and calculating. Doubtless he -remembered how much depended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> on him, and thought how the cause he loved -needed him. Anyhow he took to his heels, and ran rapidly in the -direction of Restormel.</p> - -<p>"Coward!" I shouted, as he left me standing in the road. "Coward! Otho -Killigrew," I repeated again, as soon as I had gained my breath, but he -took no heed of my taunt, and indeed I was sorry afterward that I -uttered it.</p> - -<p>I was master of the situation, however, and taking no thought of Juliff -who lay groaning by the hedge side, I caught Otho Killigrew's horse, -which had not been hurt by my pistol-shot, and jumped into the saddle. -My side pained me sorely as I did this, and now that my danger was over -I felt somewhat faint and dizzy. Indeed, I doubt much if I should have -been able to have walked to Tregothnan, for the house was several miles -beyond the lodge gates.</p> - -<p>No difficulty presented itself with the gate-keeper. He had just risen -as I came up, and when I told him that I had important business with his -lord, he made no ado in allowing me to enter. When I neared Tregothnan -my heart beat fast, for I remembered the circumstances under which I was -last there. The old man at the door gave a start, too, as he saw me, and -I felt sure I was recognized; but seeing the eager look on my face, he -bade me enter, and told me he would inform his lordship of my presence.</p> - -<p>Evidently Hugh Boscawen was an early riser, for in a few seconds he -entered the room where I stood.</p> - -<p>"I have heard strange news concerning you, Master Roger Trevanion," he -said as he entered.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p><p>"But not so strange as I have to tell you, my lord," was my reply.</p> - -<p>He gave a start at my words. "What ails you, man?" he asked, "you are -wounded, your clothes are bloody."</p> - -<p>"Of that presently, my lord," I said hastily. "Know you that the -Pretender lands at Veryan Bay to-night, and that the lovers of the -Stuarts have a thousand men armed to receive him?"</p> - -<p>He started back like a man who had received a prick with a sword. "What -mean you?" he cried.</p> - -<p>I repeated my words, and gave him further particulars.</p> - -<p>"You are sure of this?"</p> - -<p>I assured him that I was.</p> - -<p>"I would that Sir John Grenville were here," he said to himself, "this -is sore sudden."</p> - -<p>"There is need of immediate action, my lord," was my reply, "and the -country looks up to you."</p> - -<p>My words seemed to arouse his mind to activity.</p> - -<p>"Ah," he cried, "now they will know that I was right. Men laughed at me -for saying the Pretender would ever think of landing in Cornwall, and -jeered at me for gathering together our brave Cornishmen. But how came -you to know this, Trevanion?"</p> - -<p>He seemed to have forgotten that I had lately been brought before him as -a traitor, forgot that Otho Killigrew had been my accuser.</p> - -<p>"I will tell you all I can, my lord," I replied. "I escaped from the -Witch's Tower, at Launceston Castle. I knew I was innocent, and I felt -that there were those outside who needed me."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, Killigrew came to me. He proved your innocence. I signed a -warrant for your liberty. But you escaped—that I know. But it is no -matter; go on."</p> - -<p>"I was led to Restormel."</p> - -<p>"What, the old Castle up by Lostwithiel?"</p> - -<p>"No, to the seat of the late Master Molesworth."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes, I remember. Well?"</p> - -<p>"Colman Killigrew of Endellion is the guardian of Master Molesworth's -daughter; hence he is practically master there."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I have heard as much."</p> - -<p>"While I was in the house, Colman Killigrew and his son Otho, with -others, came. It is regarded as a good centre for dealing with the -Pretender's cause. I overheard their conversation."</p> - -<p>"Which you have told me?"</p> - -<p>"Partly. What I did not tell you is that they fear you greatly. They -know you have gathered an army from various parts of the country. Their -idea is, that after the Pretender lands to-night they will come here and -take you prisoner. They believe that, when this is done, the very men -you have armed to fight for the king will fight for Charles."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" he cried; "but King George will know of my wisdom now! And you, -Trevanion, you escaped, and came here to tell me. Hath no one any -suspicions?"</p> - -<p>"They have more than suspicions, my lord. On leaving Restormel a few -hours ago, a man stopped me. I silenced him for the time, but he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> must -have given information; anyhow, I was followed. Doubtless messengers -were sent out to scour the country-side, but two only overtook me."</p> - -<p>"Two?"</p> - -<p>"Aye, Otho Killigrew and a serving-man. They were on horseback and I on -foot."</p> - -<p>"Were you armed?"</p> - -<p>"I had a couple of pistols and a sword." Then I told him of all that had -happened.</p> - -<p>"Then you have a bullet in your body?"</p> - -<p>"I think not, but I have a slight wound. I think I should like a -doctor," and, indeed, at that minute my head seemed to whirl most -amazingly, and there was a noise in my ears like the sound of many -waters.</p> - -<p>After that I remember little that took place, at least for a long time; -but presently when hours later my senses came back to me, I felt vastly -better.</p> - -<p>"It was lucky we had a doctor staying in the house," said Hugh Boscawen. -"Trevanion, you will have to lie quiet for many days."</p> - -<p>"No, my lord," I replied, "that is impossible. I must away. There is -much to be done."</p> - -<p>"I must ask your forgiveness, Trevanion," said Hugh Boscawen, mistaking -my meaning. "I trusted in Killigrew, such is the power of a smooth -tongue. I see now that the King hath none more faithful than you. But -you have done your part; in fact, methinks you have saved the country. -Now you can rest. I have made all arrangements, and my trusty henchmen -are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>scouring the country. When Charles arrives at Veryan to-night we -will give him a warm welcome. In a week from now he will be in safe -custody. Heard you whether the French will be sending troops with him?"</p> - -<p>"I judge not. I gathered that he would come practically alone."</p> - -<p>"That is well. Now you may safely rest."</p> - -<p>"No, my lord, I cannot"; and thereupon I told him in a few words of my -relations with Mistress Nancy Molesworth. Of my love I said not a word, -but beyond that I told him everything.</p> - -<p>"This shall be looked into when this affair is blown over, Trevanion," -he said. "Such a maid as she should not be robbed of her rights through -some foolish flaw in our laws. But what would you?"</p> - -<p>"I must find out what hath become of her, my lord," I said, for I -remembered Otho Killigrew; "moreover, there is a matter which may have -escaped your attention."</p> - -<p>"What matter?"</p> - -<p>"The friends of the Pretender will now know that I have informed you of -their plans, and I am sure that Otho Killigrew would not have run away -as he did had not some cunning plan entered his fertile brain. Believing -that you are aware of what will happen, they will act accordingly."</p> - -<p>"But they did not know that you heard their conversation?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps not; but they will suspect, and be prepared."</p> - -<p>"Well, what then?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p><p>"I think, my lord," I said, "that they will doubtless have signals -whereby they will be able to communicate with the Pretender. If he is to -cease being a danger to the country, he must be allowed to land, and -then taken prisoner."</p> - -<p>"I see; you have a good brain, Trevanion. But that shall be attended to. -I will give orders at once."</p> - -<p>"Still I cannot rest here, my lord. I must be up and doing. And I feel -quite strong. I can go to Restormel; I must go!"</p> - -<p>He saw I was determined.</p> - -<p>"You shall hear what the doctor saith," was his answer. "Ah! but it was -rare good luck that the fellow was staying here."</p> - -<p>A minute later the doctor came into the room. He had come from Truro to -bleed one of the serving-maids, and had been obliged to stay all night.</p> - -<p>"Master Trevanion had better lie still for a week," was his reply to -Hugh Boscawen's query. "True, the wound is not deep, and I have bandaged -it well, but severe movement will cause it to start bleeding, and then -there may be trouble."</p> - -<p>"But it will not be dangerous for me to move?" I said. "I feel quite -strong."</p> - -<p>"I do not use the word dangerous," replied the surgeon, "and you feel -strong because by giving you a most potent medicine of my own invention -you have had several hours of refreshing sleep. Moreover, my remedy hath -had the effect of keeping your blood cool and of energizing your vital -powers. It is really a most remarkable cordial,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> and did I live in -London, I should soon become the most famous of living physicians."</p> - -<p>"Then if the cordial be so potent," was my reply, "and if the wound is -not deep, it will surely be safe for me to travel. For, in truth, it -will do me more harm to be imprisoned here than to do what I feel must -be done. Had you been an ordinary doctor, and knew not of this cordial, -it might have been dangerous, but surely not after I have been under -your treatment."</p> - -<p>After a long harangue I managed by flattering the doctor's vanity to get -away; all the same it was not far from dark when I, with many doubts and -many misgivings, rode in the direction of Restormel.</p> - -<p>I had barely reached the lodge gates when I saw two men riding towards -the house from which I had just come. One was dressed as a squire of the -old school, and the other as an ordinary serving-man. I looked steadily -into his face as I passed, and, although it was in many respects -strange, I thought I recognized it. When he was out of sight, I asked -the gate-keeper if he knew who it was.</p> - -<p>"He gave his name as Master John Polperro," was the reply.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXV.</span> <span class="smaller">HOW JANUARY CHANGED TO JUNE.</span></h2> - -<p>Now I had never seen the elder John Polperro, but I remembered his son, -and as I rode along I thought how unlike the two men were. So unlike -were they, indeed, that no one on seeing them together would suspect -them to be related. I paid but little attention to this, however, but -rather set to wondering why he was going to see Hugh Boscawen. Had news -of any sort reached him? Knew he aught of the plots afoot? After this I -felt certain I had seen the man somewhere. Some of the features I could -not recall; but the eyes and the protruding brows above them were not -ordinary. The possessor of those keen gray penetrating orbs was not of -the common type of humanity.</p> - -<p>"Where have I seen those eyes before?" I thought; and then my side -burned and ached fearfully, just as I had felt it immediately after Otho -Killigrew had shot at me. My blood also coursed madly through my veins, -and I became much excited.</p> - -<p>"Uncle Anthony!" I said aloud, and I was sure I was not mistaken.</p> - -<p>Presently I cooled down again, and I was able to think calmly. Here then -were the facts. He was visiting Hugh Boscawen under the guise of the -elder John Polperro. He had, doubtless, become acquainted with the -success of Otho's search<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> after me, and had gone to Tregothnan to confer -with the master thereof concerning the coming of the Pretender. -Moreover, I was sure that he would not go there unless some subtle plan -had formed itself in his cunning old brain. I knew that Hugh Boscawen -was no match for him, and that unless he were checkmated the King's -cause would perchance be ruined.</p> - -<p>This being so what ought I to do? My first impulse was to ride back to -Tregothnan and inform Hugh Boscawen of my conviction; but I refrained. I -remembered the kind of man with whom I had to deal. Uncle Anthony would -know of my coming, and would naturally guess that I had penetrated his -disguise. This would allow him time to resort to other means in order to -carry out his purposes. After this I thought of writing a note to -Boscawen, telling him to arrest Uncle Anthony; but this I could not do. -I remembered the old man's kindness to Nancy, I thought of the evident -love he had for her. No, no—I could not do this, even although I knew -him to be the most dangerous plotter in the country. And yet I dared not -allow him to have his way with the man who was championing the cause of -the reigning king. After much thinking, therefore, I wrote a note in the -gatekeeper's lodge and commissioned the man to take it to his master. -This is what I wrote:</p> - -<blockquote><p>"<i>Act as though your visitor of this morning, who gives his name at -your lodge as John Polperro, had not called. I have powerful -reasons for this. At</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> <i>the same time listen to him as though you -desired to fall in with his plans. His information is not -trustworthy, of this I am sure.</i></p> - -<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Roger Trevanion.</span>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>This note I reflected would frustrate Uncle Anthony's designs, but would -not lead Boscawen to arrest the old man or do him any injury. So I -mounted my horse again and rode northward. I had no definitely formed -plans of my own, except that, despite the danger, I would go to -Restormel and seek to find Mistress Nancy. I could not help believing -that Otho Killigrew, notwithstanding the critical work he had to do, -would still find time to hunt down my love and work her harm. That he -knew of her being at Restormel was manifested by what he had said to me, -and I was sore afraid. Moreover, I had promised Hugh Boscawen that I -would meet his men in the woods, near the only spot a boat could well -land, at Veryan Bay. He had, he told me, arranged with his henchmen that -they should gather as many as possible of those who had taken up arms -for King George at this place, and that they should come as far as -possible, stealthily and after dark. His hope was that, though the -information I had given him came very late, at least two thousand men -would be lying among the woods at eleven o'clock that night.</p> - -<p>As I have said, the danger was doubtless great in going to Restormel. If -the Killigrews could get hold of me I should fare badly. And yet this -very danger might make my entrance possible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> They would never think I -should venture there that night, and thus they might be unprepared for -me. Moreover, I hoped that they would all be away at Veryan Bay, -regarding the welfare of a hapless maid as unworthy of their notice.</p> - -<p>Anyhow, I made my way towards Restormel, and having fastened the horse I -had taken from Otho to a tree some distance from the house, I crept -silently towards it. No light shone from the windows, no sound reached -my ears. Seemingly the place was deserted.</p> - -<p>I strained both ears and eyes without avail; it would seem as though no -form of life existed behind the dark walls of the house. Did not this -mean that Otho was still ignorant of the whereabouts of Nancy? Might she -not be still safe and well in that part of the house, the secrets of -which were unknown to the Killigrews. I had reason to know how -self-reliant and far-seeing she was, and I knew how faithful and shrewd -was Amelia Lanteglos her serving-maid. My heart beat loud with joy at -the thought.</p> - -<p>Creeping nearer and nearer the road, I determined to try and find the -door from which I had come early that morning. It was hidden by -evergreens and difficult to find, but I fancied that if I went there and -knocked, either she or old Adam Coad would come to me. In any case, I -hoped I should hear news concerning her, for, as may be imagined, my -heart was torn with many fears, especially when I remembered what Otho -had said.</p> - -<p>Presently I stopped, for I heard approaching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> footsteps; they came not -from the house, but from the lodge gates. I listened intently, and -before long heard the murmur of men's voices.</p> - -<p>"You join us not then?" It was Otho Killigrew who spoke.</p> - -<p>"No, I am no fighter. I do not see what I should gain now that the -affair has gone so far; besides it matters not to me who is king."</p> - -<p>I detected young Peter Trevisa's voice, and instantly my mind was on the -alert. What had these two worthies been planning? I remembered that -Treviscoe was but a few miles from Restormel. Had Otho been visiting the -Trevisas? If so, Nancy had been the subject of their discussion.</p> - -<p>"But the other matter is settled?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Then good-night. I have much to do ere midnight. But I can trust you? -And you can trust your men?"</p> - -<p>"To be sure. They will do aught that I tell them."</p> - -<p>"Mind, if you betray me or fail me——" this was spoken in a threatening -voice.</p> - -<p>"I will see that my part is done, if you do yours."</p> - -<p>"And I will."</p> - -<p>The men separated. Their words conveyed but little meaning to me. That -together they had concocted some plan concerning Nancy I was sure.</p> - -<p>I saw Otho stand still, as if thinking deeply, after young Peter Trevisa -had gone; then he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> made his way towards the shrubbery through which I -had come early that morning. Silently I followed. I ill liked the part I -was playing, but I thought of my love, and determined that I would do -all a man could. For my love grew stronger each hour, even although I -had no hope that she I loved cared aught for me. How my heart hungered -for some token of a possible affection for me no words of mine can -write. Again and again I tried to comfort myself with the thought that -did she not care for me more than ordinary she would never have braved -the dangers of helping me to escape from Launceston Castle, that she -would not have been so anxious for my welfare. But I remembered again -how she had told me that what she had done for me she would have done -for any one who rendered a service. Nevertheless, I knew that if she -could never care for me, I had still given my life to her, and that -until my limbs lay cold in death I must seek to serve her. For when a -man who is past thirty really loves for the first time, it is love -forever. True, I loved my country, and I had espoused the cause of -liberty and truth, because I could not help it, but Nancy's welfare was -more to me than these.</p> - -<p>Thus I could not help following Otho Killigrew, and although my wound -pained me, I knew that strength would not fail.</p> - -<p>Presently Otho walked down the very path along which I had come, and -made his way towards the door which Nancy had thought secret. Evidently -he knew the road well, for he hesitated not. Having reached the door, he -knocked three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> times, just as Mistress Nancy had told me to knock. What -did this mean? How did any one know of this?</p> - -<p>I did not spend much time in surmising concerning the matter, for I knew -that Otho would have many ways of finding out things unknown to most -men.</p> - -<p>The door opened as if by magic. I heard no footsteps nor noise of any -sort. Evidently the sound of his knock must have reached some one who -knew the secret of the opening thereof.</p> - -<p>Without hesitating a second he entered, and immediately the door closed -behind him, leaving me outside. At this moment I knew not what to do. I -dared not make a sound, for I knew not who might be near. Perhaps a -dozen men might be lurking near the house, and if I made a noise they -would shoot me down like a rabbit or take me prisoner. And yet I longed -to know whither Otho went. I wanted to understand his purpose in -entering. I reflected that Nancy must be within. If the Killigrews had -not discovered that this was her hiding-place, she would naturally -remain there as she had said, and if they had found her out, no place -could have served their purpose better. Had she opened the door quickly, -thinking it was I who had knocked? Had she been expecting to hear my -footsteps? The thought filled me with joy even in spite of my anxiety; -and yet I stood among the shrubs powerless and alone.</p> - -<p>Presently I heard the sound of voices. I could detect no words, but I -knew people talked near me. Their voices became louder and louder, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> -by and by a cry like that of a woman in pain reached me. This came from -within the house, and once I was sure I detected Otho's voice, not soft -and gentle-spoken as was generally the case, but harsh and strident.</p> - -<p>How I restrained myself I do not know. Indeed I feel sure I should have -attempted to break down the door had I not seen it open, seemingly -without hands, as it had opened before. A minute later Otho appeared -again. He did not look around, but hurried along the crooked path -between the shrubs. Now and then I heard him laugh in his low guttural -way, as though he had won a victory. He passed close beside me, so close -that I could easily have stabbed him to death before he had time to -defend himself. Why I did not, I do not know. Since then I have wished -that I had. But I have always loathed striking an unprepared man. So I -let him go, and shortly after I heard the sound of a horse galloping -northward.</p> - -<p>When these sounds died away, I made my way to the door, and knocked -three times, even as Otho had knocked. But without effect. Although I -listened intently no sound of any sort reached me. The noise I made -echoed and re-echoed through the house, but no notice was taken. Again I -gave the signal agreed upon by Mistress Nancy and myself; but the house -might be empty for all the answer I got.</p> - -<p>Now this troubled me sorely, for I was afraid lest my love should have -suffered some ill at the hands of Otho, and the closed door made it -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span>impossible for me to render any help even if it were necessary. But I -would not be baulked. Rather than go away in suspense I would break down -the door, even though I brought the whole race of the Killigrews to the -spot.</p> - -<p>I therefore struck the door loudly, and although I thought I detected -some sounds of movement within, I still remained outside. So I put my -shoulder against the iron-studded barrier and pressed hardly, and -although it yielded somewhat the bolts held firmly. My action, however, -must have told those within that I was determined to enter, for at this -time I heard footsteps coming towards me.</p> - -<p>"No, you ca'ant come in," said a voice from within.</p> - -<p>"Amelia—Amelia Lanteglos," I said aloud.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minnit, Maaster Roger Trevanion," was the reply, spoken as I -thought excitedly, almost feverishly. Then a bolt drew back and the door -opened.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me," said Amelia Lanteglos, "but I thought it was—somebody -else. Where did 'ee come from, sur?"</p> - -<p>"I can't tell you now, Amelia," I said; "is your Mistress safe?"</p> - -<p>"Saafe. Iss, sure; but she've bin purtly frightened."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Maaster Otho mimicked the knock. Three times ya knaw, and I opened the -door. She ded think t'was he knockin' again."</p> - -<p>"That is why I was refused admittance?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p><p>"Iss, sur, that's ev et."</p> - -<p>"Can you take me to your mistress now?"</p> - -<p>"Iss, sur; come this way."</p> - -<p>I followed the maid along dark corridors in perfect silence, she -muttering and laughing in a strange way; I feverishly excited, my side -paining me sorely, yet feeling no weakness.</p> - -<p>Presently she stopped, and then knocked timidly at the door of an -apartment.</p> - -<p>The only response that I heard was a piteous cry and a sob.</p> - -<p>Amelia knocked again.</p> - -<p>"I do not wish to be seen. I will not open the door. You can force your -way in if you dare, but you do not come here again with my consent."</p> - -<p>And now there was nothing plaintive in the tones of her voice, it was -rather angry—defiant.</p> - -<p>"I'll maake sa bould as to oppen the door," whispered Amelia; "she do -think tes Maaster Otho," and without further ado she suited the action -to the word, I entered the apartment, and Amelia left us together.</p> - -<p>A lamp stood on the table, which was in the centre of the room, so that -I could see my love plainly. She stood as far away from the door as -possible, and her back was turned upon me. I caught sight of one of her -hands, and saw that the fist was constantly clenching and unclenching -itself. Evidently the poor maid was sore distraught, and the sight of -her sorrow rendered me dumb.</p> - -<p>"Do you think, Otho Killigrew," she said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> slowly, still keeping her back -towards me, "that you can change my mind? You say I am in your power, -and that I have no friend to help me; well, if you had a spark of -manhood in you, you would cease to molest me, for you would know that -your very presence is loathsome. Now go, and leave me to find what peace -I can."</p> - -<p>Her words filled my heart with joy and sorrow at the same time. Joy, -because it was not I who was loathsome to her; sorrow, because she stood -there helpless and alone, and because I felt myself unable to help her. -And thus all I could think upon to say, and that in a very husky voice, -was:</p> - -<p>"Mistress Nancy."</p> - -<p>She turned herself round quickly, and I saw her eyes gleam with the -fires of hatred and anger. Her face was pale and hard, her whole body -was rigid; but as her eyes caught mine, a change came over her as quick -as a flash of light. In a second her eyes became soft and humid, her -hands became unclenched, her form lost its rigidity, and a rosy flush -mantled her face. It was as though a cold cruel night in January had -changed to a smiling June morning.</p> - -<p>Her lips parted to speak, but she only uttered one word, but that word -opened the gates of Heaven to me.</p> - -<p>"Roger!"</p> - -<p>It was a cry of surprise, of infinite relief, of untold joy.</p> - -<p>I opened my arms. I could not help doing so, and I am sure she saw that -my eyes burned with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> the fires of love. I took two steps towards her, my -arms still extended.</p> - -<p>"Nancy," I said.</p> - -<p>Then she came towards me and fell upon my shoulder.</p> - -<p>"He told me you were in the power of the Killigrews," she sobbed, "and -that to-night you would die."</p> - -<p>I held her to my heart a moment, knowing nothing, understanding nothing, -save that I was in Heaven. I had never hoped for this. Did such a mad -fancy enter my mind, I had dispelled it as something as impossible as -Heaven might be to a lost soul. Oh! but I never knew the meaning of life -or joy until that moment. She my dear, dear maid, lay with her head -pillowed on my shoulder, while her shining hair mingled with my own -unkempt locks.</p> - -<p>"And did you care?" I said like one in a dream, for truly my joy made me -unable to say the words that were wise.</p> - -<p>At this she started back, like one ashamed. I saw the tears trickling -down her cheeks, and a look which I could not comprehend come into her -eyes.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is you, Master Roger Trevanion!" she cried. "Forgive me, I—I -did not know. I think I—I am overwrought. You will pay no heed to the -foolish words and action of—of one—who—who knew not what she was -doing."</p> - -<p>But I was eager, fearless, determined now. Knowing my own unworthiness -as I did, I could not forget the look in her eyes as she uttered my -name.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p><p>"Nay, Nancy, my love, turn not away!" I cried.</p> - -<p>"But—but—I must—I—I did not know. Oh! what must you think of me?" -she sobbed like one ashamed.</p> - -<p>"I think you are the best and purest maid God ever sent on earth," I -answered. "I—I—O my love, come to me again!"</p> - -<p>But she stood still, her hands trembling and her bosom heaving.</p> - -<p>"You—you must forget my foolishness, forget it forever," she said -wildly. "I was so afraid, I did not know what I was doing!"</p> - -<p>"No, I shall never forget it," I replied, "never, never! A man cannot -forget Heaven, even though he may have felt it only while he draws one -breath. O my dear, dear maid; come to me again. I love you better than -name, home, liberty, life. I have never dared to tell you before. I am -so unworthy, but I love you, love you!"</p> - -<p>"But, but——" she cried piteously.</p> - -<p>"No, no," I said, "let there be no buts. I cannot bear that you should -turn away from me now. I have loved you for many weary, weary -days—hopelessly, hopelessly. I dared not tell you till now—but do not -repulse me."</p> - -<p>"And do you want me—really want me? That is, you—you do not despise me -because——"</p> - -<p>"Mistress Nancy—Nancy, my dear one," I said, growing bolder each -moment, although I wot not what to say, for truly my love made me as -foolish as a child, "all my life is bound up in you; I care<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> for naught -but you, and I mind nothing now you are near me. Even my wound hurts me -not one whit now."</p> - -<p>"Your wound?" she cried. "What wound?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is nothing," I answered, vexed with myself for being such a fool -as to mention it; "my side was only grazed by the pistol-shot."</p> - -<p>"What pistol-shot? When? Where?"</p> - -<p>"It was only a scratch—this morning—when—when Otho fired at me this -morning."</p> - -<p>"Then you are hurt, you are wounded?"</p> - -<p>"No, not now. O my love, will you not come to me?"</p> - -<p>Then she rushed to me. "But, but you are not—that is, you are not——"</p> - -<p>She did not finish the sentence, for she lay sobbing on my shoulder -again, just as a babe might sob on its mother's breast.</p> - -<p>"And do you care?" I said again. "Oh, will you not speak to me once -more? Will you not tell me what—what I long to hear?"</p> - -<p>"You are safe—that is, you are sure you are not hurt—that is very -badly?"</p> - -<p>"No, no; I mind nothing. I am quite well. I shall be happier than words -can tell if you—you will only tell me you love me."</p> - -<p>"I—I am afraid I told you too soon," and this she said with a laugh -that had a sob in it, but the sob contained no sorrow, and still I was -not satisfied.</p> - -<p>"But my love, tell me," I cried, "tell me really, for I shall never be -content until I hear the words from your own lips."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, I cannot, I am so ashamed," she sobbed. "I did not mean you should -know until you—had first told me—that is,—O Roger, I am so happy!"</p> - -<p>And after that I could doubt no longer, for she lay in my arms -contentedly and as if she knew no fear, and then I cared for nothing. -The dangers which surrounded me I minded no more than the old knight in -armour might mind the threats of children, for although I was homeless -and nearly friendless, my heart throbbed with a joy which until then I -never believed possible.</p> - -<p>"Roger," she said again presently, "I am so ashamed, but I could not -help it, and—and I <i>am</i> happy; but—but—tell me again what you told me -just now."</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVI.</span> <span class="smaller">I FALL INTO OTHO KILLIGREW'S HANDS.</span></h2> - -<p>How long we remained oblivious to everything save our new-found love I -know not, for truly I had entered upon a new life. My dear love had -revealed herself to me in a way which made the dark night seem like day. -I had known her as one fair beyond words, it is true, and more faithful -and courageous than I had believed a woman could be, but distant and -often cold and repellant. Even when she had braved many things for my -welfare she treated me with distant formality, such as had chilled my -heart and made me despair of ever winning her love. But this night she -had shown me her heart, and now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> I knew her not only as noble and pure, -but as tender and winsome and loving. Many and many a time did she raise -her dear face to mine and bid me tell her again and again that my wound -was not dangerous and that I suffered no pain. And because I loved her -so, I am afraid I told her what was not true, for the wound ached -sorely, although I minded it not one whit. In very truth, one look from -her eyes dispelled the thought of pain, and I felt the strength of many -men surge within me. To say that I was content would be to play with -words, for sitting there with my love nought but joy filled my life.</p> - -<p>Presently, however, she bade me tell her of my experiences, and this I -did briefly, for I wanted to know what had happened to her, and why Otho -Killigrew had visited her and what he had said to her. Besides, it had -come to me that I must take her away from Restormel, although for the -moment I knew not where. In my happiness, too, I had almost forgotten -the promise I had made to Hugh Boscawen, and that it was my duty to make -my way to Veryan Bay that night.</p> - -<p>"What did Otho tell you, my love?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"That you have been taken prisoner by his people, and that you were to -be put to death to-night, unless——"</p> - -<p>"But that was nothing," I answered. "What was his purpose in coming to -you?"</p> - -<p>"He had discovered, I know not how, that you were here last night. He -had also found out the signal by which I was to admit you."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p><p>"I know not. He had also divined—oh, Roger! I must be very foolish, -but he had divined that—that——"</p> - -<p>"What, my dear maid?"</p> - -<p>"That I love you," and she hid her face on my shoulder again, as though -she were ashamed to show her face.</p> - -<p>"How think you so?"</p> - -<p>"He told me so, and—and I could not deny it."</p> - -<p>"No," said I with a glad laugh, "and then?"</p> - -<p>"He tried to trade upon my love. He said you were in his power, and that -unless I promised him something you should die this very night."</p> - -<p>"What was that?"</p> - -<p>"To marry him."</p> - -<p>"And you?"</p> - -<p>"I was sorely frightened; but I told him that I would rather die than do -this. I could not, you know, Roger, even though I did not know you cared -aught for me."</p> - -<p>"But you must have known I loved you, my dear."</p> - -<p>"Sometimes I thought I did, and at others I could only—that is—even -were I sure you did, I knew you would rather die than that I should wed -him."</p> - -<p>"Well, let us hear the rest of this," I said. "Surely Otho must have -been attending the performances of some travelling showman, for such -plots smack of a fourth-rate playhouse."</p> - -<p>"He sorely frightened me, for he threatened to torture you; and you know -what a cruel face he has."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span></p><p>"Well, and what was the end of it?" By this time my heart began to grow -bitter towards Otho Killigrew, and had he been there at that moment it -would have gone hard with him.</p> - -<p>"He told me that you had been taken to a place of safety, and then asked -me if I would allow him to take me there. He said it was the only -condition on which he would show you any mercy."</p> - -<p>"And you?"</p> - -<p>"I refused him again. And yet I fancy my looks must have consented, for, -Roger," and she nestled closer to me again, "I hoped that I might be -able to help you."</p> - -<p>Now this matter required thought, for I felt sure Otho had some -deep-laid purpose in it all.</p> - -<p>"He said he would return as soon as his duties allowed him," she added -presently.</p> - -<p>"Here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"You will refuse to admit him?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, there will be no need now—you will be here;—that's—no—no—you -must not. He seems to have discovered all about the house, and even old -Adam Coad obeys him. If he finds you here he will find means to kill -you."</p> - -<p>"You need not fear," I said; "to-night all the Killigrews will be -prisoners, and before long they will be hanged," and I told her what was -being done.</p> - -<p>"Then he cannot come back here to-night?"</p> - -<p>"No, he will not be here. All the same, let every door be bolted. But I -must away."</p> - -<p>She looked at me piteously. She was so changed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> this maid Nancy, during -the last hour. All her reserve, all her coldness had gone.</p> - -<p>"But I will be back before morning," I said, "and then——" I stopped, -for my heart grew cold. In very truth, I seemed helpless. She seemed to -divine my thoughts, for she concluded the sentence.</p> - -<p>"I shall have no care. And yet," and this she said sadly, "O Roger, I -cared naught about this—this story of Trevisa's till to-night. If it is -true, I shall be dowerless—nameless. I shall take every thing and give -you nothing—that is—nothing but—myself."</p> - -<p>The last words came coyly, and yet with a sob, and for the moment I -cared nothing, even the loss of my old home weighed no more than -thistledown. But only for a moment; my destitution rested heavily on me -a minute later.</p> - -<p>"It is all well," I cried in a tone of confidence I was far from -feeling. "Even although Trevisa's story be true, I shall have—but there -is not time to tell you now. Wait for me, my love. No harm can come to -you to-night—and I will soon be back. I will not knock this time; you -may know me by this cry," and I imitated the hoot of a night bird.</p> - -<p>Soon after I rode away with a light heart in spite of my cares, and my -many doubts. I knew nothing of Otho's plans, and for aught I could tell -he might have spies all around the house; but no one molested me. Indeed -although I listened carefully all was silent as death, and I concluded -that the Killigrews had mustered all their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> forces in order to be ready -when Charles Stuart landed.</p> - -<p>When I reached Veryan Bay all was silent. It was perhaps ten o'clock, -only two or three hours before the Pretender was supposed to land, but -not a soul was visible. I rode across country in order to avoid coming -into contact with any of the friends of the Stuarts: for I knew that -were I caught it would mean instant death. Every footstep was, I was -sure, beset with danger; for while Hugh Boscawen had given me a passport -whereby I should be safe among his followers, I knew not where the enemy -might be lurking.</p> - -<p>Presently I reached the woods just above Veryan Bay, and with as little -noise as possible crept along under the trees. A few seconds later I was -surrounded by armed men. They had been lying quietly amidst the -brushwood until orders for action came. No sooner was my passport seen -than I was conducted to Hugh Boscawen.</p> - -<p>"Saw you that old man?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, but not until I had first received your letter."</p> - -<p>"Well, what did he say?"</p> - -<p>"He seemed weighted with important news at first, but presently he -talked of the most senseless matters."</p> - -<p>"Ah," I said, and instantly I surmised what it meant. Uncle Anthony had -guessed that I had penetrated his disguise, and had sent a message.</p> - -<p>"Did you see him immediately on his arrival?"</p> - -<p>"No, I had many things to occupy me, and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> kept him waiting some time. -Your letter prepared me for the foolish things he had to say."</p> - -<p>"All your arrangements have been carried out then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; one thousand men lie in this wood and a thousand more on the other -side of the valley. It was all I could raise on such short notice. But -they are enough. The Pretender's friends have got wind of my prompt -action. They have abandoned the idea of coming here. I am sorry, but it -does not matter; the craft containing Charles is on its way, and he will -be here in a few hours."</p> - -<p>He tried to speak coolly, but I could see that he was excited beyond -measure. His voice shook, and was fairly husky.</p> - -<p>"How do you know that they have abandoned the idea of bringing their -forces here?"</p> - -<p>"My spies discovered it," he said shortly. "Oh, I have not been idle, -young man; my men have had eyes and ears everywhere."</p> - -<p>I realized then as I felt when at Tregothnan that he seemed to resent my -questions, and I knew that his abilities did not equal his zeal. I could -quite believe that the Killigrews had abandoned the idea of meeting the -forces which Hugh Boscawen had gathered, but I did not believe that they -would submit so meekly as this man seemed to think. As far as I could -judge, matters were ill-arranged, and although every one was on the -tiptoe of expectation, there seemed to be little definite idea as to the -serious issue at stake.</p> - -<p>"You see," he went on, "such a number of men could not be got together -so secretly as I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> hoped. The Pretender's friends found this out, and -not a man of theirs is to be found within two miles. Of that I am sure."</p> - -<p>"And do you think, my lord, that they will give up so easily?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"They cannot help themselves. I tell you the coast is guarded two miles -in each direction."</p> - -<p>"No more than two miles?"</p> - -<p>"Is not that enough, Trevanion! I tell you I saw through the whole -business ten minutes after you brought the news. You shall not be -forgotten, Trevanion, I can assure you that."</p> - -<p>"I suppose neither Sir Richard nor John Rosecorroch are here?"</p> - -<p>"No, there was no time to get advisers; besides it would have confused -matters. One general is enough."</p> - -<p>I felt impatient with the man, loyal and well-meaning as he was. I -remembered that he had paid but little heed to me at Tregothnan. -Doubtless during the hours I had been lying asleep through the day he -had given his orders, and in his own way had made ready. But he did not -know the resources of Colman Killigrew or Uncle Anthony, to say nothing -of Otho.</p> - -<p>"Have you considered, my lord, that they may still signal to Charles -Stuart farther up the coast?"</p> - -<p>"What mean you, Trevanion?"</p> - -<p>"Doubtless the Pretender set sail from the north of France, and is -sailing down the Channel. Think you the Killigrews have not prepared for -the present state of things? They have been too long plotting not to -realize their danger, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> they will not allow Charles to walk blindfold -into your hands, especially now they know what hath been done. They will -either have moved their forces farther up the coast, or if that be -impossible they will have warned him not to land."</p> - -<p>"I tell you their forces have been disturbed. They have heard of what -has happened, and they have lost heart. As for the other, it is a dark -murky night, and no signal could be seen from afar."</p> - -<p>"But there is danger, my lord," I persisted; "and you would not like -Charles to escape you?"</p> - -<p>"No, by heaven, no! but what would you suggest?" and here the man -revealed the fact that he should have taken counsel in the affair.</p> - -<p>"I would suggest this, my lord. Give me a few men. I know the coast -well; I will go northward, and if they are seeking to signal, either I -will send you word, or, if I am able, take these Killigrews prisoners."</p> - -<p>"The plan sounds well, Trevanion. It can do no harm, and it shall be -done. Do you ride northward as you suggest."</p> - -<p>Now all along I had been a free lance in the business. Lord Falmouth, of -whom I have spoken as Hugh Boscawen, because our county people preferred -this honoured old name to the title which had first been given to his -father—Lord Falmouth, I say, had insisted that I was not in a fit -condition to render him active service because of my wound. In truth, as -I have before intimated, he urged that I should stay for some time at -Tregothnan, and although I had managed to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span>persuade him as to my fitness -to travel and to meet him at Veryan Bay, I knew practically nothing of -what he had done. That he should have been able to secure such a large -number of men at such a short notice was indicative of his influence in -the county. As far as that matter goes, there was no man better known or -more respected, while the name of Boscawen was held in reverence from -Land's End to the banks of the Tamar, and even beyond it. At one time he -was believed to have much influence in Parliament, and no small amount -of power over King George himself. But I, who am not a politician, -cannot speak with authority on such matters. Of his kinsman, the great -Admiral Boscawen, and his prowess, all the world knows. But Hugh did not -possess the admiral's genius as a commander, and I could not help -seeing, ignorant as I was in all matters pertaining to warfare, that the -matter seemed sorely bungled, because of a failure to understand how -wily Uncle Anthony and the Killigrews were.</p> - -<p>However, I rode off with a few men, and found my way with all diligence -along the coast. As Boscawen had said, it was a dark, murky night, and -it would be difficult to see a signal from afar. I dared not ride very -near the coast, as many parts of it were dangerous; indeed it was with -difficulty that we made the journey at all. The country was thickly -wooded, and pathways were few.</p> - -<p>I had gone perhaps four miles beyond the spot where Boscawen's men lay, -keeping a sharp <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>lookout on the coast all the way, when I stopped the -horses and listened. We had been riding through fields and by the side -of hedges, so as to make as little noise as possible, and I had -commanded a halt because I thought I saw two or three dark forms not far -away. For some minutes we listened in vain, but presently I heard the -sound of footsteps coming along a lane near by. Creeping silently to the -hedgeside, I could detect the noise of three men coming from a northward -direction.</p> - -<p>"It's all up," I heard one say.</p> - -<p>"Yes, we'd better get as far from these parts as possible."</p> - -<p>"I suppose a big fire has been lit up by Chapel Point!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, that was the signal agreed on in case of danger."</p> - -<p>"Do you think they'll see it? It's a beastly night."</p> - -<p>"If they can keep it up long enough."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes; if they can do that the vessel will turn back."</p> - -<p>"I suppose so."</p> - -<p>The men passed on, and I heard them discussing the situation as they -trudged in the direction of St. Austell; but this was all that came to -me distinctly. I had heard enough, however, to confirm my suspicions. My -plan now was to send two men back with the news, and then to ride on to -Chapel Point, a spot some distance farther north.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later I was near enough to Chapel Point to see the ruddy -glow of a beacon light, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> I became sadly afraid lest Hugh Boscawen -would not be able to send men in time to extinguish the fire before it -was seen by the Pretender. Indeed, so much did my fears possess me that -I could not remain inactive, and so, foolishly, I crept nearer and -nearer the danger signal. I was drawn on by a kind of fatal fascination, -and so excited did I become that I recked nothing of the danger by which -I was surrounded.</p> - -<p>It soon became plain to me that the spot was well chosen. A huge fire -was lit on the slope of a hill, and thus the blaze, while hidden from -the neighbourhood of Veryan Bay, could be plainly seen by any who sailed -down the Channel. In the ruddy glow, too, I could see many forms; and as -I thought how much depended on extinguishing the blaze before it could -be seen by the rebels, I had difficulty in restraining myself from -rushing thitherward single-handed. Indeed I did, in order to watch their -actions more closely, leave the men who accompanied me, and this, as -events will show, almost led to my undoing.</p> - -<p>I had not been away from my companions more than a few minutes when I -was roughly seized, and even before I had time to cry out I was dragged -away into the darkness. How far I was hurried on I scarcely know; but -presently when I was allowed to stop, I found myself surrounded by a -dozen or more men, amongst whom I detected Otho Killigrew and Uncle -Anthony. I could plainly see them, for the light from the fire threw a -ruddy glare upon us. We stood in a hollow, however, and were partially -sheltered.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, Roger Trevanion," said Otho Killigrew, and his voice was husky -with savage joy. "I did not think we should meet again so soon."</p> - -<p>"No," I replied as coolly as I was able, "and you would not care to meet -me now if you were not surrounded by a dozen of your followers."</p> - -<p>"I always like playing a safe game," he replied slowly as was his wont.</p> - -<p>"Even although you have to be a coward; this morning you ran away from -me like a whipped schoolboy."</p> - -<p>"I had matters of more importance to perform than to kill a ruffian," he -replied.</p> - -<p>"Apparently," I said, with a laugh I little felt, "but you miserably -bungled your matters."</p> - -<p>My words evidently stung him.</p> - -<p>"Have a care, Roger Trevanion," he said. "This morning we both used a -well-worn proverb—'he who laughs last laughs best.' I think that -applies to me, for in a few minutes you will have gone to that place -where there will be little laughter, and where you will be in company -with the personage who describes himself as travelling to and fro in the -earth, and walking up and down in it."</p> - -<p>"Scarcely," I replied. "You could never be happy without your constant -friend and master."</p> - -<p>I heard Uncle Anthony chuckle in his quiet way, but Otho went on still -in cold, cruel tones:</p> - -<p>"I have not yet decided what death you shall die. I think, however, that -I shall increase the brilliancy of the light yonder by using you as -fuel. It will be excellent preparation for you too."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p><p>"That would be just like you," I said; "you are too great a coward to -try and kill me in open fight. However, let's have done with it as -quickly as possible."</p> - -<p>I said this, I must confess, with difficulty; my throat was dry, and -even then I could almost feel the fire burning my flesh. At the same -time I knew that such words would make him desire to prolong my agony, -and, in truth, his devilish desire to taunt me and make me suffer saved -my life.</p> - -<p>"All in good time, Roger Trevanion," he said coolly. "There is no hurry -for a few minutes, and the devil can wait. I have a few things to tell -you, too. I have had some slight training for the priesthood, and I wish -to give you a few comforting messages before you depart, just as a -priest should."</p> - -<p>"Go on," I said grimly, but indeed I was sore afraid.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVII.</span> <span class="smaller">HOW BENET KILLIGREW AND I FOUGHT IN THE LIGHT OF THE BEACON FIRE.</span></h2> - -<p>"Of course you expect no mercy from me?" said Otho presently.</p> - -<p>"I know you are too good a pupil of your master to dream of such a -thing," I replied, and even as I spoke I wondered how long it would take -the messenger I had sent to reach Hugh Boscawen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> and whether help could -arrive before Otho had completed his designs.</p> - -<p>"Be careful, Roger Trevanion," he said bitterly.</p> - -<p>"Why?" I asked. "I know you will do your worst whatever may happen. Say -your say, man, and unless you gag me I shall say mine."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I will say my say. Oh, I know what you are thinking. Well, we have -sentinels in every direction, and the moment there is a sign of any -friends of yours coming, we shall be warned, and that moment you shall -die."</p> - -<p>My heart sank as he said this. For although I do not think I fear death -more than another man, I did dread the cruelty of this man. Besides, I -longed for life; never, indeed, had it been so sweet to me as now. Only -a few hours before my dear maid Nancy had laid her head on my shoulder -and had sobbed out her love to me. I knew, too, that she would have a -bitter enemy in Otho, and if I were dead she would be a prey to his many -wiles. Still I determined not to betray fear. At any rate, he should not -have the comfort of making me plead for mercy.</p> - -<p>"Then say on," I said, "your thoughts can give you little comfort; you -have been outwitted, beaten all along the line. I can die, but not -before I've drawn your teeth."</p> - -<p>"Except that Charles will not land."</p> - -<p>"If that is any comfort to you, except that."</p> - -<p>"We may as well add another thing," he sneered; "but I will refrain, -because it refers to a lady."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span></p><p>I was silent.</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, I have touched you at last, have I? Well, let me give you a -little comfort in that direction. The lady shall be well looked after."</p> - -<p>I looked at Uncle Anthony as he spoke, and saw the old man's face -twitch. In spite of myself I was comforted. My dear maid was not without -one friend.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps I will refer to that again presently," he went on; "you will be -glad to hear her name in your last minutes. But let me tell you another -thing: Roger Trevanion, I hate you."</p> - -<p>"Doubtless," I said with a sneer.</p> - -<p>"I hate you," he went on, and now he spoke quickly and passionately. "I -hate you because again and again you have beaten me, and I never forgive -a man who has done that. You have outwitted me—yes, I will admit -it—and have made the only woman——" he stopped a second as though his -passion had led him to commence a sentence which he did not know how to -finish. "God is tired of you," he continued presently, "for you have -hindered the true king from coming back to England, and with the true -king the true faith. We owe our failure to you."</p> - -<p>"Yes, you do," I replied, "you do. You thought to restore the fortunes -of your dying name. Religion is little to you. How can it be? But the -failure of your plans to bring the Pretender here is the deathblow to -your hopes. To succeed you have lied, you have played the spy; you have -bartered friendship, and all things good and true. Well, I have beaten -you. You can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> take a paltry revenge by killing me, but you cannot undo -the fact that I have beaten you."</p> - -<p>I felt a savage joy in saying this, for at that moment I cared for -nothing.</p> - -<p>"You will not fight as a man should," I went on. "When it comes to open -blows you run away like a coward. You prefer plot and intrigue, and lies -in the dark."</p> - -<p>"It cannot be said that you are guiltless of plot and intrigue, either," -remarked Uncle Anthony quietly.</p> - -<p>"I have been obliged to use my enemies' weapons," I replied; "but I have -betrayed no man, no woman. I have sought to hurt no man. Nay, I have -ever tried to befriend rather than to harm."</p> - -<p>"I know more about you than you think," remarked Uncle Anthony; "and at -one time I should have been sorely disturbed at doing you harm, so much -did I believe in you. It is little use deploring the inevitable. I am -too old a man to give up because of one failure, or to cry out because -God seemeth against me. But why did you interfere, Roger Trevanion? You, -the gay spendthrift—you, who have cared but little for aught save your -gaming and your revelries. Why did you not live your life, and let -others deal with matters of serious import? Religion is naught to you. -It is everything to some of us."</p> - -<p>"Because the society of a pure woman made me ashamed of myself," I -cried; "because she made me remember my name, my race, and my duty to my -country and to God."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p><p>The old man sighed, while Otho spoke apart with two or three of the -men.</p> - -<p>"Methinks I had better have killed you this very evening," he said; "my -hand was on the trigger of my pistol."</p> - -<p>"When we met?"</p> - -<p>"Aye."</p> - -<p>"And I might have had you arrested," I replied. "I recognized you in -spite of your disguise. I wrote a note to Lord Falmouth warning him that -no reliance could be placed upon the information you might give. I might -have added your name."</p> - -<p>"So you might," he said quietly, and he seemed in deep thought. "Then -this danger signal would not have been seen," he added.</p> - -<p>At that moment we heard the sound of a gun coming from across the -waters.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" cried voices all around me; "they have seen the danger signal. Now -we must leave."</p> - -<p>"But not before I have dealt with Roger Trevanion," cried Otho -Killigrew; "now, you fellows, do my bidding."</p> - -<p>"Not that, by God, no!" cried one of the men, "let him die as man -should. I'll have naught to do with roasting."</p> - -<p>"But we owe all our failure to him," cried Otho.</p> - -<p>"You have your own private grudge, no doubt," said another. "Kill him as -a gentleman should be killed. Hot lead, cold steel, or the water, I -don't mind which, but not that."</p> - -<p>I looked around as well as I could, but Uncle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> Anthony had gone, and I -saw that there was a movement among the men who had waited by the fire.</p> - -<p>"Then it shall be cold steel," cried Otho, and he drew his sword from -his sheath.</p> - -<p>If it be possible to realize a sense of satisfaction at such a moment, I -realized it then. At any rate, I was not to suffer the cruel torture -which Otho intended. Indeed, I doubt whether my mind could have -withstood much longer the strain I was undergoing. For the last few days -my life had been one constant excitement. Every nerve was strung to the -highest pitch, and although my wound was neither deep nor dangerous, it -had pained me much.</p> - -<p>"They laugh best who laugh last," said Otho, coming to me grimly, "and I -shall laugh last, I warrant you."</p> - -<p>"Be quick, then, and do your devil's work!" I cried aloud, for I was -sore wrought upon. "I cannot touch you, I am bound, so you are safe. But -I would to God I could die at the hands of a man, instead of a -revengeful cut-throat."</p> - -<p>"No, you shall die by my hand," said Otho, slowly and grimly.</p> - -<p>"No, by Heaven he shall not!" cried a voice near; "whatever he is, -Trevanion is a brave man, and he can fight. I would I had known you were -here sooner. Ah, I love a man who can fight! Cut the ropes, men, and let -him die as a man should!"</p> - -<p>It was Benet Killigrew who spoke, and I saw his eyes fairly gleam with -savage joy.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, it is I, Roger Trevanion," he cried; "I told you we should meet -again; I told you we should fight again. Faith, I almost forgive you for -having spoiled all my old dad's plans; I shall have a fight after all, a -real fight with a man who knows the use of a sword. Aye, but I love you, -Trevanion. I love you!"</p> - -<p>"Benet, this is not your affair," said Otho; "it was agreed upon that -this fellow should be taken and killed at all hazards, and that I should -see it done."</p> - -<p>"I care not, Otho. He is a worthy gentleman, and he shall die as -becometh one. Oh, you need not fear, I will kill him; but not as a -butcher may kill a pig. Cut his cords, men. Nay I will do it myself. -There, that's it. Stand up, Roger Trevanion. Ah! they have not taken -your sword from you; it is well! Stand around, men; there is plenty of -light."</p> - -<p>For once Otho Killigrew yielded to his brother. Perhaps he was glad to -do so, for while it may be easy to kill another in hot fight, a man must -have lost his manhood if he willingly and in cold blood will kill -another who is helpless and bound. Besides, Otho knew it to be dangerous -to stay there. The king's men might come at any minute.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I will leave you to my brother, Roger Trevanion," he said slowly; -"I think I am glad he came. He saves me from doing dirty work."</p> - -<p>"Very dirty," I replied.</p> - -<p>"Aye," he said, "just as a hangman's work is dirty. Still it is -necessary, and Benet is better fitted for it than I. And before I go, I -will give<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> you a little information. I go to see a lady who is a mutual -acquaintance. I will tell her how I left you. She will be much -interested. You are about to take a long journey, and the end thereof -will be dark. I wish you all the joy you can get out of it. I will tell -our lady friend about it, as we caress each other and laugh at you."</p> - -<p>"Coward," I cried, unable to control myself, "base, skulking coward. -Come back and fight me," but he laughed in his quiet way as he mounted a -horse that stood near-by.</p> - -<p>"By the way," he continued, "you stole my horse, but Benet will make -that all right. You will soon be in congenial company—and so shall I. -Good-night!"</p> - -<p>"You are right, Trevanion," cried Benet in almost a friendly tone. "Otho -is a coward; he hath a way with him which drives me mad. Ah, but I love -you. Stand around, men. Now draw, man"; and putting himself in a posture -of defense, he made his sword whistle about his head.</p> - -<p>"Had we not better get away to a distance?" asked one who stood by. "We -can now do no good by staying, and we may be in danger at any minute."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense!" cried Benet. "They will have heard the guns as well as we, -and they will know what it means. The game is up, I tell you. Besides we -can never find a better place than this. Here is green grass to stand -on, and a rare light. Now, Trevanion."</p> - -<p>I drew my sword and stood before him. Even as I did so I knew to whom I -owed his coming.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> It was Uncle Anthony who had told him how I stood. The -old man knew his disposition, knew that fighting was the breath of Benet -Killigrew's life, and was sure that it would be untold joy to him to do -battle with me again. Perhaps he hoped that in some way I might be able -to successfully defend myself. For the hermit felt kindly towards me, -even although I had thwarted the hope of his life. Strange as it may -seem, however, I had almost forgotten the greater issues at stake. While -I had spoken with Otho and Uncle Anthony, and heard the mutterings of -bitterness among their companions because their hopes had been -frustrated, I felt that I had indeed taken part in a very important -business, that, perhaps, I had changed the very life of the country. I -had to some extent realized the bitter disappointment they must have -felt, as well as their great anger towards me. But now my thoughts were -narrowed down to smaller issues, and although just after I drew my sword -I heard the dull boom of another gun resounding across the waters, I -thought nothing of the rage that the young Pretender must have felt, or -of what it might mean to millions of people.</p> - -<p>My great thought was to sell my life dearly, for now that I was once -more free I felt my own man again. I knew that Benet Killigrew was a -great fighter, and although he had not been master in the past, I stood -at great disadvantage now. I had been weakened by my wound, and my -experiences of the last few days were not of a nature to fit a man to -fight with such a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span>swordsman as Benet. All around me stood the dark -angry faces of his friends, and I was sure that, even should I master my -opponent, they would see to it that I should not escape alive. Still a -man at thirty-two years of age is not easily conquered. He has not lost -the hot blood of youth, and he has also gained the caution and the -judgment necessary to use his strength wisely.</p> - -<p>And this I determined to do. Most of the men who had lit the great -beacon fire were gone, and I hoped that even in spite of my dark -prospects I might still be able to keep my skin whole. I knew the man -who stood before me. Passionate, daring, and strong as he might be, he -had still the feelings of a gentleman. There was nothing cunning in his -nature. He would fight openly, fight for the very joy of fighting. The -ferociousness of the savage he doubtless possessed, but he had higher -feelings as well.</p> - -<p>"It gives me joy to meet you, Benet Killigrew," I said. "If I am to die, -I shall be glad to die at the hands of a brave man, rather than to be -butchered by one who knows not what a swordsman ought to feel."</p> - -<p>"Ah! good!" he replied, "it is not oft I can find a man who is worthy of -standing before Benet Killigrew"—this he said with a kind of mountebank -bravado peculiar to him—"and it gives joy to my soul to meet a man. I -do not know much about who is the true king. I joined the business -because there was a chance of a fight. But I am sick of it. No sooner -was it discovered that there would be three to one against us than they -all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> showed the white feather, and so I was robbed of a rare bit of fun. -But you have turned up, Trevanion, and by my soul I love you for it; and -although I must kill you, because I have given my promise, I shall be -fair grieved to do it."</p> - -<p>"At least we will fight as gentlemen," I replied, "and neither I am sure -will take advantage of the other."</p> - -<p>"That goes without saying," he cried; "but come let us begin, we are -wasting time! Guard!" I must confess that all my own love for a fight -was aroused in me at that moment, and I needed no further invitation. At -the same time my policy was to act only on the defensive. I knew that -Benet would be careful, and would throw away no chances.</p> - -<p>I have thought since that the scene must in its way have been -impressive. The great "danger fire" still cast its ruddy glow upon the -dark faces of the men who formed a ring around us, while in the near -distance the waves surged upon the rock-bound coast. It must have been -far past midnight, and the winds played among the newly budding leaves -which appeared on the trees in the woods nearby. Above the sounds of -both wind and waves could be heard the clash of our swords and the sound -of Benet's voice as we fought. For there was nothing cool and contained -about this man. He could not help but express his feelings, and every -time I parried his thrusts he gave a cry of pleasure and admiration.</p> - -<p>"It is a joy to fight with you, Trevanion," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> would say; "By Heaven, -you are a man! Good! Well parried!"</p> - -<p>His eyes continued to gleam with a savage joy, and he constantly laughed -as though he were enjoying himself vastly.</p> - -<p>Presently, however, he grew more serious, for I was very careful. I -contented myself with parrying, never offering to return his thrusts, -and although he tried hard he could not so much as touch me.</p> - -<p>"By Heaven, fight!" he cried at length, but that I would not do. My -policy was to tire him out if I could, and then disarm him. This, -however, was easier said than done. He fought on with savage pleasure, -showing no weakness. His wrists seemed to be made of steel, and his eyes -continued to shine with a passionate light.</p> - -<p>We had been fighting for some minutes, when I thought it wise to change -my tactics. I slowly yielded before him, and he thought my guard grew -weaker.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" he cried with satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Just at that moment I heard a cry among the woods.</p> - -<p>"It's the Boscawens!" cried one of the bystanders. "Quick, Killigrew, we -shall be in danger soon!"</p> - -<p>At this my heart gave a great bound, for hope grew stronger. I might -live to see my dear Nancy again, and this thought nerved my arm. I -thought of Otho's threat, and I longed to get to Restormel and see if my -love was safe.</p> - -<p>I still pretended to yield to Benet, and while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> my guard was still -sufficient, I made him believe it was growing weaker.</p> - -<p>Another cry came from the woods, sharper and clearer.</p> - -<p>"The signal!" cried the bystanders, "the last signal. We must be away."</p> - -<p>"No, he yields," cried Benet, "and I promised to kill him, and I will -keep my word. Ah!"</p> - -<p>"But they will soon be here. Let us settle the business for you."</p> - -<p>"No, by Cormoran, no! What! Benet Killigrew call help? I'll fight and -kill him by myself though ten thousand Boscawens stand by!"</p> - -<p>"But there is danger, man! If we are caught we shall be hanged!"</p> - -<p>"Can't you see I am fighting!" roared Benet, still keeping his eyes upon -me, and never for a moment thrown off his guard.</p> - -<p>All the same, this talk was not to his advantage. It made him somewhat -rash, and I knew that my chance had nearly come.</p> - -<p>"'Tis they!" one cried presently. "Truscott, give me your pistol!"</p> - -<p>"I'll kill the man who interferes," said Benet madly; "I promised that -there should be no unfair advantage, and by Heaven there shall not!"</p> - -<p>But his speech caused his own undoing. It was impossible for any man to -fence well under such circumstances, and so I was able to use the chance -I had long been waiting for, and his sword flew from his hand.</p> - -<p>At that moment there was the tramp of horses'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> hoofs and the shout of -voices, and I knew that the bystanders became panic-stricken.</p> - -<p>"We cannot go without killing him," cried one.</p> - -<p>"No; very good, then"; and a bullet whizzed by my head, after which I -heard retreating footsteps.</p> - -<p>"Fly, Benet Killigrew!" I panted.</p> - -<p>"No, by God, no!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I answered; "you had not fair play. Those fellows confused you. -We will finish another time. If the Boscawens take you, you will be -hanged!"</p> - -<p>"Will you fight again?" panted Benet.</p> - -<p>"Yes; now begone!"</p> - -<p>But it was too late. A dozen horsemen, headed by Hugh Boscawen, rode up -to us.</p> - -<p>"Safe and unhurt, Trevanion?" he cried.</p> - -<p>"Yes, my lord."</p> - -<p>"It is well. Have they all gone! No! At least here is one prisoner."</p> - -<p>"No, I think not, my lord," I answered; "this gentleman and I have been -settling a long-standing affair."</p> - -<p>"Aye, but he is a rebel."</p> - -<p>"Nay, my lord, let him go free," I said excitedly, for I could not bear -the thought of Benet being treated as a rebel. "I will swear to you that -this gentleman hath never plotted against the king. He is an honourable -man; but for him I should have been dead ere this."</p> - -<p>"But you were fighting with him."</p> - -<p>"The fight was a private matter, my lord. I ask you for his liberty as a -special favour. I will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> give my word that he will never lift up his hand -against the king's true subjects."</p> - -<p>"I like not to refuse you anything, Trevanion," said Boscawen, "you -rendered such signal service. Well, if the fellow will give his word -that he will in no way help the Pretender's cause, I will for your sake -set him at liberty."</p> - -<p>"Aye, I will promise, gladly," cried Benet; "I hate the whole business."</p> - -<p>"Then you are free," said Boscawen.</p> - -<p>"Good!" cried Benet, "and, by Heaven, I love you, Trevanion; I love you! -And I have your promise. Another time?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, another time."</p> - -<p>He took his sword, and laughed a great laugh. "It is well," he said; "I -love you for a man, and you are more worthy of the maid Nancy than I."</p> - -<p>He left then, and a few seconds later was lost in the darkness, for by -this time the beacon fire began to burn low.</p> - -<p>Of all that was said during the next half-hour I have but little -remembrance. Many questions were asked me which I answered as well as I -was able, and many things I heard which I was but little able to -understand, for my mind was sorely exercised as to what had become of my -dear maid. After a time, however, I was able to get a word with Hugh -Boscawen alone, when I told him of what Otho Killigrew had said.</p> - -<p>"We will go thither," he cried; "I myself will accompany you to the -house. If we be quick, we shall be able to capture this fellow. He at -least will be a valuable prisoner."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span></p><p>So as quickly as possible we set out for Restormel, but so anxious was -I that I fretted and fumed at the delay in starting and the slowness of -our journey.</p> - -<p>Morning was breaking when we reached Restormel, and the sight of the -house set my heart beating fast for joy, for I hoped that soon I should -hold my love in my arms again. But sore disappointment was in store for -me. We found the house empty save for Adam Coad and his wife. Neither of -them knew where Nancy was. All the old man could remember was that they -had heard a noise in the house, and when they had searched for his -mistress she was nowhere to be found.</p> - -<p>Again I remembered Otho's words, and then my overtaxed nature yielded to -the continuous strain; I felt my blood grow cold and head grow dizzy. -After that all became dark to me.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVIII.</span> <span class="smaller">OTHO KILLIGREW'S LAST MOVE.</span></h2> - -<p>I suppose I must have been sorely ill, for consciousness did not return -to me for some time, and even when it did I was much bewildered and -sadly weak. My memory played me many tricks, too, and I have been told -since that my words were wellnigh meaningless. Hugh Boscawen sent for -the doctor whose drugs had done me so much good the previous day, and on -his arrival I was put to bed, and after having drunk a large<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> quantity -of the decoction he prepared, I became unconscious again. I suppose the -stuff must have been a kind of sleeping draught, for although it was yet -morning when I had been put to bed, daylight was altogether gone when I -awoke. The room in which I lay was lighted by means of a candle, and by -my side sat Mr. Inch the doctor.</p> - -<p>"How long have I been asleep?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"At the least twelve hours," and Dr. Inch laughed cheerfully.</p> - -<p>"Twelve hours!" I cried aghast.</p> - -<p>"Twelve hours, and verily I believe your life hath been saved thereby. I -will now take away a little blood, and in a few days you will be well."</p> - -<p>This he said in evident good-humour with himself, as though he had -effected a wondrous cure.</p> - -<p>"Twelve hours!" I cried again; "then Otho hath fifteen hours' start of -me."</p> - -<p>"I know not what you mean. My care hath been that you should have -necessary rest and restoration. This you have had. You are much better -now, are you not?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I am all right," I said, sitting up in my bed; and indeed I felt -quite refreshed and strong. "But where am I?"</p> - -<p>"At Restormel."</p> - -<p>"Oh yes, at Restormel," and instantly I had grasped the whole situation. -"And Boscawen, where is he?"</p> - -<p>"Lord Falmouth hath had many matters of importance to deal with; he went -away before I came, but left word, saying he would if possible return to -you this evening."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span></p><p>"But did he seek to find Otho Killigrew; has he any knowledge of his -whereabouts? Does he know where——"</p> - -<p>I stopped then, for I remembered that Dr. Inch must have been ignorant -concerning the matter which lay so near my heart. Still I could not -refrain from asking many questions, although the doctor was able to give -me but little satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Just as I had consented to be bled, and was making ready for the -operation, Hugh Boscawen came into the room. He had evidently spent a -busy day, for he looked much wearied, but expressed delight at seeing me -so well.</p> - -<p>"Have you found them?" I asked, thinking of Otho and Nancy.</p> - -<p>"They have all escaped, except one or two foolish varlets who know -nothing about the business," he replied, mistaking the purport of my -question. "But I do not despair. My men are scouring the country, and I -have sent messengers to London with the news. And I have not forgotten -you, Trevanion; I have not forgotten you."</p> - -<p>"But Otho Killigrew and Mistress Nancy Molesworth, what of them?" I -asked feverishly.</p> - -<p>"I have heard nothing," was the reply, "nothing at all. I wish I could -get him; he and that old hermit have been the brains of the whole -matter. Still, do not be anxious, Trevanion; I will find him. He hath no -friends in these parts, and therefore can have no hiding-place. The -coast is being watched everywhere too."</p> - -<p>"You do not know Otho Killigrew," I cried <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span>bitterly; "and it is no use -telling me not to be anxious. As well tell a boat to sail steadily on a -stormy sea."</p> - -<p>"It is no use fretting. All that can be done shall be done. It should be -easy to find him too, for we are all faithful to the king for many a -mile around, and I have given strict orders."</p> - -<p>At this my pulses started a-dancing again, for I remembered something of -importance.</p> - -<p>"How long hath it been dark?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"But an hour or so."</p> - -<p>"My lord, I must get to saddle again," I cried; "and I think, if you -will accompany me, you will be able to arrest Otho Killigrew."</p> - -<p>"Good!" he cried, "but where, Trevanion?"</p> - -<p>"But Master Trevanion must not rise," cried the doctor. "I must take an -ounce of blood from him, after which he must lie still for three days."</p> - -<p>"I shall need all my blood," I cried eagerly, and in spite of all the -doctor's persuasions I was soon on my feet again and ready for action.</p> - -<p>"Let me have some food," I said with a laugh, for I felt my own man -again, and the thought of action eased my anxious heart.</p> - -<p>Food was speedily set before me, of which I partook heartily, as every -man should who has work to do, and while I was eating I told Hugh -Boscawen my plans.</p> - -<p>"Know you aught of Peter Trevisa?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"But little," was his answer; "he is a man reputed to care for but -little save his ugly son and his money bags."</p> - -<p>"Have you ever been to Treviscoe?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span></p><p>"Never."</p> - -<p>"I have," I replied; "I believe Otho Killigrew is there. It is there he -hath taken Mistress Nancy, I could swear it." And then I told him of the -conversation I had heard between Otho and young Peter Trevisa.</p> - -<p>"There is naught in that," remarked Hugh Boscawen, shaking his head -doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"In itself there is but little," I answered, "but connected with all -else which I have heard there is much"; and thereupon I told him of my -suspicions.</p> - -<p>"It is worth trying for, anyhow," remarked Hugh Boscawen. "I will -accompany you to Treviscoe. If he be there, it accounts for my inability -to find him."</p> - -<p>A little later we rode towards Treviscoe, which as I have said was no -great distance from Restormel. We were well armed, and were also -accompanied by several men, upon whose trustworthiness Boscawen said he -could rely.</p> - -<p>"You have paid no heed to Trevisa?" I asked of him as we rode along.</p> - -<p>"No; Peter Trevisa hath in no way been under suspicion; besides, the -place is so near Restormel that I did not think there was any need. I -naturally set my men farther afield."</p> - -<p>"But the coast hath been watched."</p> - -<p>"Carefully."</p> - -<p>At this my heart became heavy again, for I felt sure that Otho Killigrew -could if he would devise plans whereby all Hugh Boscawen's followers -could be outwitted. Still I trusted that the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> Trevisas, once having -Mistress Nancy in their midst again, would not let her go without much -hard bargaining, for I had suspicions concerning Otho's plans which will -leak out presently.</p> - -<p>"It will be well," I said presently, "if we enter Treviscoe secretly."</p> - -<p>"But that will be impossible."</p> - -<p>"To me alone it might be; but not to you. You hold the King's -commission. You can command, you can enforce threats, you can insist on -your own method of entrance."</p> - -<p>"True," he replied proudly.</p> - -<p>"Then I would suggest that you forbid the gatekeeper to communicate with -the house concerning our entrance, and threaten him with a severe -penalty if he disobeys. When we get to the house, command the servant to -show us to the room where his master is—also with a threat, without -letting any one know of our arrival."</p> - -<p>"I understand. Yes, it shall be done."</p> - -<p>"We must surprise them. If he have time to think, they will outwit us. -We must make no noise; we must enter the house unknown to its masters."</p> - -<p>"You speak wisely, Trevanion—perchance Trevisa hath had more to do with -treason than we wot of," and by this speech he betrayed the fact that he -had inherited much of his father's love for arresting people concerning -whom he had any suspicions.</p> - -<p>When we came to the lodge gate, the man let us enter without any ado as -soon as Hugh Boscawen had mentioned his name. I knew, too, by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> the fear -expressed in his quavering voice that we need have no apprehensions -concerning him. Our entrance to the house, too, was effected just as -easily. We crept silently along the grass which bordered the way, and -when I saw that no light shone from the front windows I surmised that -old Peter, if he was within, was in the library, which was situated in a -wing of the building in the rear of the main structure. This made our -work all the easier. I knocked lightly, Hugh Boscawen standing by my -side.</p> - -<p>An old serving-man opened the door, and gave a start of fear as soon as -he saw who we were, but my companion quickly brought him to reason; -indeed so great was his reverence for the name and power of the -Boscawens that he raised no protest whatever when he was told what he -desired him to do.</p> - -<p>"Utter no word to any one concerning our presence," said Hugh Boscawen -impressively. "Show us the door of the room where your master is, and -depart. These men of mine will stand here within call."</p> - -<p>The old serving-man tremblingly acquiesced.</p> - -<p>"Hath your master visitors?" continued Hugh Boscawen, still in a -whisper.</p> - -<p>"He hath, my lord; but he is loyal, my lord—loyal. Neither my master -nor his son hath left the house these two days."</p> - -<p>I knew this to be false; all the same young Peter might have met Otho -Killigrew without the man knowing anything about it.</p> - -<p>"Who are his visitors?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span></p><p>"I do not know, my lord."</p> - -<p>"Trevanion," whispered Boscawen to me, "I must serve the King. I must -find out if there be any treason about."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"All means are honourable in the service of the King," he replied. "We -must listen."</p> - -<p>I saw his eyes gleam with eagerness; if ever man was alert to his -chances, it was he. I verily believe that nothing rejoiced him more than -to punish treason.</p> - -<p>We therefore crept noiselessly to the door, and soon my nerves were all -a-twitch with excitement, for I heard Otho Killigrew's voice, and he was -mentioning my own name, and I quickly judged that we had come at an -opportune time.</p> - -<p>"I never wished to be harsh to a lady," said Otho, "for that reason I -allowed your maid to accompany you this morning; when I took you, I am -afraid by guile, and somewhat unceremoniously, from the house you have -thought to be yours. But all is fair in love and war. I have also -allowed you to be alone throughout this day, but the time is come for -the settlement of matters, and this time Roger Trevanion will not be -able to help you."</p> - -<p>"And is it true, that is—what you told me about him?"</p> - -<p>It was my dear Nancy's voice, husky and tearful, which spoke; I gripped -my sword-hilt, and with difficulty kept myself from bursting open the -door. Hugh Boscawen held my arm, however, and motioned me to be still.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span></p><p>"To quote the great bard," replied Otho in a mocking voice, "he is gone -'to that country from whose bourne no traveller returns.' Trevanion -sleeps with his fathers."</p> - -<p>"Killed by your hand?"</p> - -<p>"Nay cousin, not by my hand; by another's."</p> - -<p>"Like Richard, the murderous king, you hire your murderer, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"No; Trevanion died in a fair fight, died by my brother Benet's hand."</p> - -<p>"In fair fight, you say. Where? when?" and her voice was tremulous.</p> - -<p>"In fair fight; but we need not enter into details now. He is dead, and -I am suspected to have left the country with the others who led this -business—spoiled, I will admit, through Trevanion. But the end is not -yet, and he will not spoil our plans next time. But there are other -matters more important to me. My lungs pine for the air of France, and I -ask you to come with me."</p> - -<p>"No, I will not go with you."</p> - -<p>"Think again, my cousin; for thus I will call you, although we are not -related by law. We Catholics have always suffered—we suffer still. So -unjust are the English laws to Catholics that you to-day have according -to the law no name, no home."</p> - -<p>"Then why do you persecute me?"</p> - -<p>"Because I love you."</p> - -<p>"I do not believe it. If you loved me, you would leave me in peace."</p> - -<p>"I do love you, I offer you my hand in marriage. I offer you my name—an -old name."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p><p>I heard a movement in the room, there was a sound like that of the -rustling of a woman's dress. Then I heard my dear maid's voice again.</p> - -<p>"Otho Killigrew," she said, "I know not what truth there is in what you -say. I know you to be a liar. Again and again have you tried to deceive -me. But I do not believe you would offer to marry me if I were nameless -and penniless. You—you are too base."</p> - -<p>"You mistake me, misjudge me, Mistress Nancy," said Otho slowly. "As I -tell you, Roger Trevanion is dead; he died before sunrise this morning -by my brother Benet's hand. And the other matter is also true. You have -no name. Let the fact become known, and you would be a wanderer, a -vagrant in the county, for none would give you a home. All children born -out of wedlock are despised. But I love you, I would save you from being -disgraced; I desire to give you my name, I will make you my wife. True, -when I sought your hand I thought you were rightfully the owner of -Restormel; but Peter Trevisa hath proved to me beyond dispute that you -have no shadow of claim to it. But I love you!"</p> - -<p>"This is true, my fair lady," and I detected old Peter's voice; "it is -true. I have told you so before, but he!—he!" and he giggled feebly, -"you know what you said."</p> - -<p>"And if I marry Otho Killigrew, you will keep the matter a secret, I -suppose."</p> - -<p>"I would do much for Otho Killigrew. Not that I agree with his views on -politics; oh no! 'Long live King George,' I say, but I would serve<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> him -in this matter, and if you wedded him I would say nothing."</p> - -<p>"And what price would he pay you for this?"</p> - -<p>"He, he!" and again the old wretch laughed feebly, "there would be no -price. Of course not. It is simply an arrangement—a private arrangement -between two gentlemen. You see, my dear lady, I have proofs that your -father was not legally married. Still it is morally yours, and if you -marry my friend, Master Otho Killigrew, no one ever need to know that -you are base-born."</p> - -<p>He uttered the last words in such a tone as must have wounded my dear -maid sorely; but she spoke steadily and clearly for all that.</p> - -<p>"Look you," she replied, "your words may be true; I am afraid they are. -Well, tell all you can, proclaim to the world that I am base-born in the -eyes of the law. That threat shall not make me do what you ask. If I am -penniless, I am penniless; but rather than marry Otho Killigrew I would -beg my bread from door to door, I would earn my living as a servant in a -farm kitchen."</p> - -<p>"It is hard to use force, my fair cousin," said Otho, "but I am not -beaten easily. When I set my mind upon a thing,—well, I generally get -it." He hesitated again, and then went on still more slowly. "You see, I -generally prepare my plans carefully beforehand. I have done so in this -case. I knew your character, and I anticipated your answer. My friend -Trevisa is a very religious man, and hath a friend who is a clergyman. -It is true he doth not bear a very high character, but that is because -he hath been sadly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span>misunderstood. Still, he is a very obliging man, and -has on many occasions rendered valuable service. At great risk to myself -I have brought him here to-night. He will overlook the little matter of -your consent, and marry us at once. You see, I love you, and—well, I -desire the rents of Restormel Estate; I need them badly in fact."</p> - -<p>"But I will not wed you."</p> - -<p>"I say in this case, the Reverend Mr. Winter will overlook the little -matter of your consent. It is true he is not of the true faith, but I -shall be willing to overlook that little matter in this case."</p> - -<p>"Then I will proclaim my shame to the world. I will tell every one what -you have told me."</p> - -<p>"That doth not matter. Peter Trevisa is the only one who holds the -secret of this matter. He will at the proper time deny all knowledge of -it. You see how perfectly plain-spoken I am." Then my dear maid spoke -again, and her voice was indeed sad.</p> - -<p>"I am all alone," she said, "I have no friends. You are many against one -poor girl. Very well, do your worst, I will not do one thing that you -say. Oh, you cowards, you poor miserable cowards! If I were a man you -would not dare act so. And I do not believe any one calling himself a -clergyman would do as you say; but even if he will, I will resist you to -the last, and I will die by my own hand rather than"—then I heard her -sob bitterly.</p> - -<p>I could bear no more. If this were a farce, I could not allow it to -continue further; if they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span>intended carrying out their threats, it was -time to interfere; even Hugh Boscawen no longer held me back. I put my -shoulder to the door and burst it open.</p> - -<p>Without ado, Hugh Boscawen went across the room and placed his hand on -Otho Killigrew's shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Otho Killigrew, I arrest you in the King's name," he said.</p> - -<p>Otho did not lose his presence of mind, but turned coolly towards him.</p> - -<p>"Why, my lord?" he said, "what have I done to be arrested? I defy you to -prove aught against me."</p> - -<p>"That remains to be seen," he said; then he gave a whistle, and -immediately his men entered.</p> - -<p>Peter Trevisa and his son had started to their feet and were staring at -us, but were at first too frightened to speak; near them was a man -dressed as a minister of the gospel, and there was no need to take a -second look at him to know that he was a disgrace to his calling. -Doubtless he was one of those outcast clergymen who were notorious in -that day, and who would for a fee perform the marriage ceremony under -the most outrageous circumstances. The country had for a long time been -disgraced by its marriage laws, for thereby all sorts of outrages had -been committed. Young squires owning much property had been dragged into -inns, drugged, or made drunk, and had then been married even to fallen -women on the streets. It is true that such scenes, though common in -London, had not so often happened in Cornwall;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> at the same time, some -in our county had been forced into unholy alliances. All this became -impossible a few years after, when Lord Hardwick's famous marriage act -was passed; but at that time, had I not come upon the scene, I believe -that Otho Killigrew, in spite of my dear maid's continuous refusal, -would have used means to have gone through an unholy farce, and this -vile clergyman's signature would have made it legal.</p> - -<p>Not far from the rest Otho Killigrew had stood, and as I entered I had -seen the look of cruel determination on his face, the look which made -his brothers fear him and which told them that he would surely gain his -ends. Doubtless he had prepared for all exigencies, and had bargained -with the two Trevisas, for they, after failing to gain their way with -Nancy, would be willing to sell their secret to the highest bidder.</p> - -<p>My dear maid's face had been turned from me, but I saw she stood upright -before them, and was in an attitude of defiance, even although she stood -helpless and alone.</p> - -<p>She had not seen me; her eyes had been turned towards Hugh Boscawen, who -had gone straight to Otho Killigrew; neither, I think, had any one -noticed me. Doubtless they all fancied I was dead, killed by Benet -Killigrew's hand, even as Otho had said.</p> - -<p>"It is a dangerous thing to arrest the King's faithful subjects," went -on Otho quietly, although his lips twitched nervously, "and I am -faithful. True, evil reports may have been circulated about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> me; but who -is the man who can prove treason against me? No man, my lord."</p> - -<p>"There is one, Otho Killigrew," I said quietly.</p> - -<p>He stared like one who had seen a ghost, and stammered incoherently, but -I paid but little heed to him, for my dear maid had heard my voice, and -with a cry of joy and hands outstretched came towards me.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIX.</span> <span class="smaller">THE KING'S GRATITUDE.</span></h2> - -<p>For the next few minutes every one in the room was in a state of -consternation, for so certain had they all been of my death that they -seemed to have difficulty in believing that I could indeed be Roger -Trevanion. Even Nancy, who had been cool and defiant up to now, broke -quite down, and asked me again and again, sobbing and laughing at the -same time, all sort of fond, foolish questions which I will not write -down.</p> - -<p>Presently, however, Otho Killigrew obtained command over himself, and -said to me:</p> - -<p>"The devil hath again missed his own then. I was a fool to trust Benet."</p> - -<p>"You see Benet fought as a man," I replied; "unlike you, he would not -act as a butcher."</p> - -<p>I was sorry afterwards that I answered him thus, for it is a coward's -trick to strike a man when he is down; but when I called to mind what I -had just heard I could scarce restrain myself. Had he shown any signs of -penitence I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> have pitied him, for I saw that all hope had gone -from his face, and it is easy to have kindly feelings towards a man who -is beaten.</p> - -<p>Peter Trevisa, however, behaved differently. The old man's face was -yellow with fear, for he knew the power Hugh Boscawen possessed.</p> - -<p>"My lord," he whined, "this is a fearful blow, a fearful blow that you -should have discovered a traitor in my house. But I knew nought of it, -my lord; he came here on a matter entirely different."</p> - -<p>"He did," replied Hugh Boscawen, "and that matter shall be sifted to the -very bottom."</p> - -<p>"I do not think you—you understand, my lord," he said stammeringly.</p> - -<p>"Perfectly. You were about to force this maid into an unholy marriage, -and you had promised to keep secret some information you say you possess -concerning her father's marriage. Whatever it is, it shall be secret no -longer. That I can promise you. Whether you have placed yourself within -the grip of the law remains to be proved. That is a question which also -applies to you," he added, turning to the clergyman.</p> - -<p>"No, my lord," replied the Reverend Mr. Winter. "I was invited here to -perform a marriage ceremony in the ordinary way. I had no knowledge that -anything was wrong, and should certainly have refused to comply with the -wishes of Master Otho Killigrew after having understood the lady's -sentiments."</p> - -<p>It was, of course, impossible to prove that the man spoke lies, as the -man had uttered no word<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> before, and we knew nothing of the history of -his coming.</p> - -<p>"Well, everything shall be sifted to the bottom," repeated Hugh -Boscawen, "and justice shall be done to all. As far as Mistress -Molesworth is concerned, she shall accompany me to Tregothnan this very -night. As for you, Trevanion, you will naturally want to go to your -home."</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, my lord," said old Peter Trevisa, his avarice overcoming his -fear, "he hath no home."</p> - -<p>"Hath no home, what mean you?"</p> - -<p>"Trevanion is mine, my lord; I possess all the deeds, and Roger -Trevanion hath no right to go there."</p> - -<p>"I have heard something of this," said Boscawen; "tell me all the -details."</p> - -<p>Whereupon Peter told him of his relations with my father and of the -episode which I described in the beginning of this history.</p> - -<p>"I think you have not told all, Master Peter Trevisa." It was Nancy who -spoke.</p> - -<p>"There is nothing more to tell—nothing," snarled Peter.</p> - -<p>"There is much," replied Nancy.</p> - -<p>"Then tell it if you care; tell it."</p> - -<p>But she was silent. She remembered that a recital of the scene would -give me pain, and spoke no word.</p> - -<p>"I will tell it, my lord," I said; "the time hath come when it should be -told. I did a base thing, I made a bargain with this man. He has told -you how he became sole possessor of Trevanion,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> but, as Mistress Nancy -has declared, there is more to tell. This man bade me come here, and he -promised me that if I would bring Mistress Nancy Molesworth here he -would give me back the deeds of the estate and forgive half the sum I -owed him."</p> - -<p>"But what was his purpose in proposing this?"</p> - -<p>"I knew not at the time, my lord. I was reckless, foolish, extravagant; -and to my eternal shame I made a bargain with him. After much difficulty -I brought her here, but not until I had besought her not to come. You -see she had made me so ashamed of myself that I loathed the mission I -had undertaken. I told her the history of what I had done, and in spite -of all my advice she insisted on coming."</p> - -<p>"I see. Then you can claim your own."</p> - -<p>"I offered it, my lord, offered it before an attorney, but he refused, -he—he would not take it."</p> - -<p>"Is that true, Trevanion?"</p> - -<p>"It is, my lord. I—I could not take the price of my base deed."</p> - -<p>Hugh Boscawen looked at me steadily; he was a gentleman, and understood -that which was in my heart.</p> - -<p>"That, too, must be investigated," he said quietly; "but still you have -not told me Trevisa's object in asking you to bring Mistress Molesworth -here."</p> - -<p>"It was this secret, my lord. He thought she was base like himself. He -believed she would be glad to wed his son when he placed his case before -her."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span></p><p>"And she, of course, refused?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, my lord."</p> - -<p>Hugh Boscawen seemed to be thinking for a few seconds, then he said -quietly:</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mistress Molesworth shall accompany me to Tregothnan until the -matter be investigated, and you, Trevanion, must go to your old home. -Trevisa hath not complied with the usual formalities in calling in the -mortgages, hence the place is still yours."</p> - -<p>"No, no; it is mine, my lord," cried old Peter.</p> - -<p>"It is my advice, my wish that you go there, Trevanion, and you have the -right."</p> - -<p>"And I, my lord?" remarked Otho, who had been listening intently, "may I -be privileged to know where I am to go?"</p> - -<p>"You are a prisoner," replied Boscawen.</p> - -<p>It was sore grief for me to see my dear maid ride away with Boscawen, -even although it was best for her to do so. Indeed there seemed no way -in which I could serve her. In spite of her safety, therefore, I rode to -Trevanion with a sad heart; for truly all seemed darkness when she was -not near. I was weak and ill, too, for although I had disobeyed Dr. Inch -in going to Treviscoe that night, I was scarcely fit to undertake the -journey.</p> - -<p>It was late when I reached Trevanion, so late that the servants had gone -to bed, but old Daniel was quickly aroused, and no sooner did he know -that it was I who called to him than his joy knew no bounds. In a few -minutes every servant in the place was dressed, all eager to serve me. -The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> tears come into my eyes as I write even now, for I call to mind the -looks on their faces, their tearful eyes, and their protestations of -joy. I suppose I had been an indulgent master, but I had done nothing to -deserve the affection they lavished on me.</p> - -<p>"God bless 'ee, Master Roger; God bless 'ee!" they said again and again -as they hovered around me.</p> - -<p>All this gave me sadness as well as joy, because of the fact that -shortly they would all have to seek another master. Once back in the old -home again, it became dearer to me than ever. Each room had its history, -every article of furniture was associated with some incident in the -history of the Trevanions. Again and again I wandered around the house, -and then, unable to restrain myself, I went out into the night and -wandered among the great oaks in the park, and plucked the early spring -flowers. The night had become gloriously fine, and I could plainly see -the outlines of the old homestead, which was never so dear to me as now.</p> - -<p>I heard the clock striking the hour, and although it was two in the -morning, I did not go in, it was so joyful to breathe the pure spring -air and to wander among the places I had haunted as a boy.</p> - -<p>"Maaster Roger!" It was old Daniel who shouted.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Daniel; anything the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Aw, no sur, we was onnly wonderin' ef you wos oal saafe, sur; tes oal -right."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span></p><p>"If it were only really mine," I thought, "and if those faithful old -servants could only have my dear Nancy as mistress. If I could but bring -her here, and say, 'This is all yours, my dear maid.'"</p> - -<p>Well, why could I not? It was still in my power. Mr. Hendy still held -the papers. It <i>was</i> mine. But only by accepting the price of base -service. No, I could not be happy if I took advantage of the bargain. -The look in my dear maid's eyes forbade me. But what could I do? She was -nameless, and would, I was afraid, soon be homeless and friendless. Lord -Falmouth had told me to wait until I heard from him, before I went to -Tregothnan, and until that time I should not be able to see her. I would -have gone to London and offered my services to the King but for my -promise to await Boscawen's commands.</p> - -<p>I was sorely troubled about these things, and yet it was a joy to be at -Trevanion, joy beyond words. For I was at home, and my dear Nancy loved -me. Destitute we might be, but we were still rich in each other's love, -and as I remembered this I laughed aloud, and sang snatches of the songs -I had sung as a boy.</p> - -<p>"Daniel," I shouted.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sur."</p> - -<p>"Where is Chestnut?"</p> - -<p>"In the stable, sur."</p> - -<p>I made my way thither, and Chestnut trembled for very joy at the sight -of me. If ever a horse spoke, he spoke to me in the joyful whinny he -gave. He rubbed his nose against me, and seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> to delight in my -presence. After all, my homecoming was not without its joys.</p> - -<p>"Whoever leaves me, my beauty," I cried, "you shall not leave me; and -to-morrow we'll have a gallop together; you and I, Chestnut, do you -hear?"</p> - -<p>And Chestnut heard and understood, I am sure, for he whinnied again, and -when I left the stable he gave a cry as if he sorrowed at seeing me go.</p> - -<p>The last few weeks had been very strange to me, but I did not regret -them. How could I? Had I not found my Nancy? Had I not won the love of -the dearest maid in the world? Presently when I went to my bedroom I -knelt down to pray. It was many years since I had prayed in this -bedroom, not indeed since boyhood, but I could not help asking God to -forgive my past and to thank Him for making me long to be a better man. -I prayed for my dear Nancy, too; I could not help it, for she was as -dear to me as my heart's blood, and it was through her that God had -shown me what a man ought to be.</p> - -<p>I did not sleep long, I could not; as soon as daylight came I rose and -went out to hear the birds sing and to drink in the fresh sweet air of -the morning. Everywhere life was bursting into beauty, and the sun shone -on the glittering dew-drops. Presently the dogs came up to me and -greeted me with mad, rollicking joy and gladsome barking; and then, when -I went back to the house, the servants came around me bidding me a -pleasant good-morning, and hoping I was well.</p> - -<p>"You'm home for good, I hope, sur," they said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> again and again; "tes -fine and wisht wethout 'ee, sur; tes like another plaace when you be -here, sur." And then although I tried, I could not tell them they would -soon have to leave me, and that I was only there on sufferance.</p> - -<p>After that many days passed away without news coming from any quarter. I -saw no visitors save Lawyer Hendy, and he was less communicative and -more grim than I had ever known him before. He professed entire -ignorance of Peter Trevisa's plans, also of the investigation which Hugh -Boscawen was making. It was very hard for me to refrain from going to -Tregothnan, and demanding to see my Nancy, for truly my heart hungered -more and more for her each day. I heard strange rumours concerning the -Killigrews, but knew nothing for certain. Of Otho it was said that he -had escaped from the King's men and was again at liberty, and this made -me sore uneasy, for I knew that many schemes would be forming in his -fertile brain; but, as I said, I knew nothing for certain. I still -stayed at Trevanion, seldom going beyond the boundary of the estate, for -Hugh Boscawen had charged me concerning this when we had parted.</p> - -<p>At length, however, when many days had passed away, a messenger came to -me from Tregothnan bearing a letter which summoned me thither without -delay. So I mounted Chestnut, and before long I was closeted with Hugh -Boscawen in the library of his old home.</p> - -<p>"You expected to hear from me before, Trevanion?" he said cheerily.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p><p>"I did, my lord," I replied, "and it hath been weary waiting."</p> - -<p>"I have not been idle," he replied. "It is but yesterday that I returned -from London. I have held converse with his gracious majesty, King George -II."</p> - -<p>I waited in silence, for I did not see what this had to do with me.</p> - -<p>"You found all well at Trevanion, I hope?"</p> - -<p>"All well, my lord."</p> - -<p>"You love the old place?"</p> - -<p>"Dearly, as you may imagine."</p> - -<p>"I can quite understand. This old house now—I have often been advised -to pull it down and build something more modern, but for the life of me -I cannot. Every room, every stone is dear to me. Probably my sons, or my -sons' sons, will build a more pretentious dwelling, but this is good -enough for me. It is a pity your pride forbids you from keeping that old -place of yours. The Trevisas would turn it into a dog-kennel. Ought you -not to reconsider the question?"</p> - -<p>"I have considered it many times, my lord, but the thing is impossible. -I did a base thing to promise Trevisa what I did, and to make a bargain -with him; it would be baser still to receive the wages of service, -unworthy my name."</p> - -<p>"Ah well, you should know your own affairs, only it seems sad that you, -the last member of a branch of your house, should be houseless, -landless, and all for a fad."</p> - -<p>"Better a Trevanion should be landless than take the price of -dishonour," I said. "Mistress<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> Nancy Molesworth hath made me feel this. -I hope she is well?" I brought in her name because I was longing to hear -news concerning her.</p> - -<p>"We will speak of her presently; but yes, I may say the young person is -well. I understand, then, that you have decided to leave Trevanion -rather than profit by your bargain with Trevisa?"</p> - -<p>"I can do no other, my lord."</p> - -<p>"No, you cannot, Trevanion, you cannot. Still you are not going to leave -Trevanion."</p> - -<p>"I am afraid it cannot be helped."</p> - -<p>"Many things are possible when kings speak."</p> - -<p>"I am afraid I do not understand," I said with a fast-beating heart.</p> - -<p>"Then I will make you understand. I have, as I told you, but just -returned from London; I have held converse with his gracious majesty, -King George II. I have told him your story. I have informed him of the -signal service you have rendered."</p> - -<p>"Yes, my lord," I said, like one in a dream.</p> - -<p>"He is not ungrateful, nay, he is much pleased; and as a reward for your -fidelity and bravery, Trevanion is yours free of all incumbrances."</p> - -<p>What followed after that I have but a dim remembrance, for indeed I was -unable to pay much heed to the details which he communicated to me. -Enough that Trevanion was mine, and that I could now give a home to my -dear maid.</p> - -<p>"With regard to the other matter," went on Hugh Boscawen, "the King -could not interfere. The question of the law comes in, and the law is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> -sacred. The matter is not yet settled, but I am afraid everything will -pass to the next of kin."</p> - -<p>I said nothing, and although I knew it would be a sore blow to my dear -maid, I am afraid it troubled me but little, for had I not Trevanion to -offer her?</p> - -<p>"It will be a sad blow to the maid," said Boscawen, "not simply because -of the loss of the lands, but she is also without name. Foolish as it -may seem, the fact of the illegality of her father's marriage, even -although he thought all was well, will ruin her chances for life. Some -yeoman might marry her, but no one of higher position. You, for example, -would not give her your name. You could not. High as the Trevanions have -stood, your friends would close their doors to such a wife."</p> - -<p>"That would not matter, my lord," I answered quickly.</p> - -<p>"Do you know young John Polperro too?" he asked without noticing my -interruption.</p> - -<p>"I have seen him once," I replied.</p> - -<p>"It was at Endellion, was it not?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, my lord."</p> - -<p>"He has been here this morning."</p> - -<p>"Indeed," I said, and although I scarce knew why, I became strangely -excited.</p> - -<p>"He had heard of my return, and rode here with all speed. News had -reached him that I had assumed the guardianship of the maid. He had -heard nothing of—of Trevisa's secret, and he came to repeat his offer -of marriage."</p> - -<p>"Did he see her?" I asked.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span></p><p>"No," replied Hugh Boscawen dryly, "he did not even ask for that -honour."</p> - -<p>"No," I replied, much relieved; "why not?"</p> - -<p>"He seemed eager to plead his cause until I told him the truth, and -then——"</p> - -<p>"What?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"He said he would consult his father."</p> - -<p>I laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>"You seem merry, Trevanion."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am," I replied. "It shows the value of the love he protested at -Endellion. But it would not have mattered, she would not have listened -to him."</p> - -<p>"I suppose I can guess your reason for saying this?"</p> - -<p>"Most likely," I replied.</p> - -<p>"But surely, Trevanion, you will not—that is, consider, man. It would -not be simply wedding a penniless bride; she is worse than penniless. -You see this stain upon her birth closes the door of every house in the -country to her."</p> - -<p>"Not all," I cried.</p> - -<p>"You see," he went on, "you will now hold your head high when it is -noised abroad, as it soon will be, that you have received favour from -the King, that Trevanion is yours free from all encumbrance, you will be -able to choose your bride from the fairest and the richest. Besides, you -must think of further advancements at the King's hands. That would -become impossible if you wedded this maid."</p> - -<p>"My lord," I cried, "I love her! I never loved a woman before. I thought -I did ten years ago,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> and when she proved false I vowed I could never -trust a woman again. But now——"</p> - -<p>"But now, what?"</p> - -<p>"You can guess, my lord."</p> - -<p>"Then you are bent on marrying her?"</p> - -<p>"I am going to beg her, to beseech her if needs be," I replied. "You say -she is still in this house, my lord. Should I be imposing too much on -your kindness if I ask that I may see her. I have not beheld her for -many days, and my heart hungers for her sorely."</p> - -<p>"How old are you, Trevanion?"</p> - -<p>"Past thirty-two," I replied.</p> - -<p>"You are not a boy," he said like one musing, "and you ought to know -your mind." Then he looked steadily in my face as though he would read -my inmost thoughts.</p> - -<p>"He is right," he cried, looking fiercely out of the window and across -the broad rich valley where the clear water of the river coiled. He -seemed communing with himself and thinking of some event in his own past -life.</p> - -<p>"He is right," he repeated still fiercely; "by God, I would do it myself -if I were in his place!"</p> - -<p>He left the room abruptly without looking at me, and I was left alone. -Minutes passed, I know not how many, and I stood waiting for my love.</p> - -<p>Whatever might be the truth concerning her father's marriage, it was -naught to me. Now that I had a home to offer her, everything was plain, -and I could have shouted aloud in my joy. Had she been a beggar maid it -would not have mattered; I loved her with all the strength of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> life, -and my love had made me careless concerning the thoughts of the world. -For love is of God, and knows nothing of the laws of man. Besides, I had -looked into the depths of her heart; I had seen her sorrow when she -thought I was in danger. I remembered the light which shone from her -eyes when she came to me that night at Restormel. I remembered the tone -of her voice when she had sobbed out my name.</p> - -<p>I heard a rustle of a woman's dress outside the door, and eagerly, just -like a thoughtless boy, I ran and opened it; and then I saw my Nancy, -pale and wan, but still my Nancy,—and then I wanted naught more.</p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXX.</span> <span class="smaller">IN WHICH UNCLE ANTHONY PLAYS HIS HARP.</span></h2> - -<p>Now of what Nancy and I said to each other during the next few minutes -there is no need for me to write. At first joy conquered all other -feelings, and we lived in a land from whence all sorrow had fled, but by -and by she began to talk about "good-byes," and a look of sadness dimmed -the bright light in her eyes. So I asked her the meaning of this, and it -soon came out that she had been grieving sorely concerning the dark -shadow which had fallen upon her life. She had learned from Hugh -Boscawen probably about her father's marriage being invalid, and she -felt her position keenly. For although she had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> treated with great -kindness at the home of the Boscawens, she could not help believing that -she was there on sufferance and not as an honoured guest. So to cheer -her I told her of the good fortune that had befallen me, and how Hugh -Boscawen had been commissioned to give me back my old home as a reward -for the services I had rendered to my country. At this she expressed -much joy, but persisted in saying that my good fortune had removed us -further away from each other than ever. And then she repeated what Hugh -Boscawen had said a few minutes before, and declared that she would -never stand in the way of my advancement.</p> - -<p>"And what would advancement be to me if I have not you, Nancy?" I asked.</p> - -<p>She thought it would be a great deal.</p> - -<p>"And do you love me, my dear?" I asked.</p> - -<p>She thought I had no need to ask such a question.</p> - -<p>"Then suppose you were mistress of Restormel, and I were without home, -would you let me go away because I was poor and what the world called -disgraced?"</p> - -<p>And at this my Nancy began to laugh, even while her eyes grew dim with -tears.</p> - -<p>"No, Roger," she said; "but—but you are so different."</p> - -<p>After that I would hear no further objections, neither indeed did she -offer more, for she saw that they grieved me, and so it soon came about -that she gave her consent to be the mistress of the home which I had won -back.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span></p><p>"But you are giving me everything, and I am giving you nothing," she -said.</p> - -<p>"Nay," I replied, "but you can give me more, a thousand times more, than -I can give you. Even although I could give you Trevanion a hundred times -over, my gift would be as nothing compared with yours."</p> - -<p>"And what can I give you?" she asked as if she were wondering greatly.</p> - -<p>"Nancy Molesworth," I answered, and then the light came back to her eyes -again, and she came to me joyfully, even as she had come at Restormel.</p> - -<p>Now those who read this may regard what I have written as the foolish -meanderings of a lovesick swain, and not worthy of being written down; -nevertheless it gives me joy beyond measure to think of that glad hour -when I was able to make my Nancy laugh again. For I who for years had -laughed at love had entered into a new life, and now all else was as -nothing compared with the warm kisses she gave me and the words of love -she spoke. True, I had passed my boyhood, but I have discovered that, no -matter what our age maybe, the secret of all life's joy is love. Surely, -too, God's love is often best expressed in the love of the one woman to -whom a man gives his heart, and the love of the children that may be -born to them.</p> - -<p>I would not wait long for our wedding-day, neither, indeed, did my Nancy -desire it; and so three weeks later I took her to Trevanion, where she -was welcomed by my old servants, even as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> though she were sent direct to -them from God. And in truth this was so.</p> - -<p>Now the wedding feast at Trevanion was not of a kind that found favour -in the county, for by my dear maid's wish we had none of high degree -among us, save Hugh Boscawen only, who, in spite of his many duties, -spent some hours with us. Indeed, he did not leave till near sundown, -for, in spite of the many cares which pressed upon him, he seemed to -rejoice in the thought of our love, and in the glad shouts of the youths -and maidens who danced beneath the trees on the closely shorn grass.</p> - -<p>For my own part, my heart was overfull with gladness, for never surely -was the world so fair to any man as it was to me that June day. All -around the birds were singing as if to give a welcome to Nancy, while -everywhere the gay flowers gloried in their most beauteous colours as -though they wished to commemorate our wedding-day. Away in the far -distance we could hear the shout of the hay-makers, and above us the sun -shone in a cloudless sky. Everything was in the open air, for although I -loved the very walls of the old house, my Nancy desired that the wedding -guests should be received on the grassy lawns, where all was fair and -free, and where we could hear the distant murmur of the sea. And indeed -it was best so. There the farmers and their wives, whose families had -been tenants for many generations, conversed more freely, while the -young men and their sweethearts danced more gaily.</p> - -<p>But best of all, my Nancy rejoiced beyond<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> measure, especially when the -old servants and tenants came to her and wished her all happiness. For -no one seemed to know but that she was the owner of Restormel. Neither -Peter Trevisa nor his son had breathed one word concerning their secret, -and Hugh Boscawen had held his peace.</p> - -<p>When the sun was sinking behind the trees and lighting up the western -sky with wondrous glory, the man to whom I owed so much took his leave.</p> - -<p>"Trevanion, you are a happy man," he said.</p> - -<p>I did not reply save to give a hearty laugh and to press Nancy's hand, -which lay on my arm.</p> - -<p>"I am afraid there may be dark days for England ahead, but you, -Trevanion, have entered into light. Now, then, before I go let me see -your tenants and servants dance again."</p> - -<p>So I called to the old fiddlers, men who had lived in the parish all -their lives, and they struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley," when old and -young laughed alike.</p> - -<p>"All seem happy save yon old blind beggar," remarked my friend; "he -seems sad and hungry."</p> - -<p>"Then he shall not be sad and hungry long," I said, noting for the first -time an old man on the lawn; "stay a little longer, and you shall see -that he will soon be as happy as the rest."</p> - -<p>"No," replied Boscawen; "I give you good evening, and all joy," and -therewith he went away.</p> - -<p>"Fetch yon old man, Daniel, and give him of the best of everything," I -said; "food and drink,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> aye, and a pipe and tobacco too. No man shall be -sad and weary to-day if I can help it."</p> - -<p>So Daniel fetched him, and all the while young and old laughed and -danced for very joy, aye, white-haired tottering old men and women, as -well as the little children made the place ring with their joyous -shouts.</p> - -<p>"You are happy, my love, are you not?" I said turning to the dear maid -at my side.</p> - -<p>"Yes, perfectly happy, but for one cloud in the sky."</p> - -<p>"Nay, there must be nothing. Tell me what that one cloud is, and I will -drive it away."</p> - -<p>"I cannot help it. You give me everything, and I give you nothing. I -never cared for Restormel till you told me you loved me. I do not care -about it for myself now—only for you, Roger. If I could bring you -something now——"</p> - -<p>"Please sir, that old man wants to speak to you."</p> - -<p>I turned and saw the old beggar standing by Daniel's side.</p> - -<p>"I wish you joy on your wedding-day," he said in a thin quavering voice. -He was much bent, and his eyes were nearly covered with green patches.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, old man," I said, "let them bring you food and drink. You -are weary, sit down on this chair and rest."</p> - -<p>"I wish my lady joy, too," he said; "full joy, complete joy. That is an -old man's blessing, and that is what I bring to her. May I—may I kiss -my lady's hand?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span></p><p>Now I was not over-pleased at this; but another glance at the poor old -creature drove away all unkind thought; besides, it was my wedding-day. -And so Nancy gave him her hand to kiss.</p> - -<p>"May every cloud depart from your sky, my sweet lady," he said; "aye, -and by God's blessing the last cloud shall be driven away."</p> - -<p>At this I started, for he had been repeating our own words. I looked at -him again, and my heart beat strangely.</p> - -<p>"Let me add joy to the day, and not sorrow," he continued. "Let me bring -my harp, and I will play the old Cornish melodies, and I will tell the -old Cornish stories."</p> - -<p>"But not until you have had food and rest," said my dear Nancy.</p> - -<p>He would not wait for this, however, so the people flocked around him, -and he played and sung wondrously for such an old man. After this he -told the people stories which moved the wedding guests much, first to -tears and then to laughter.</p> - -<p>"You shall stay at the house to-night, old man," I said; "what is your -name?"</p> - -<p>"I have many names," he replied, "but many call me David, because I am -cunning with the harp and can charm away evil spirits, even as King -David of old charmed away the evil spirits from the heart of Saul. There -is only one sad thought in the heart of your dear lady to-night, and -that my harp shall charm away."</p> - -<p>After the guests were all gone that night I called the old minstrel to -the room where my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span> forefathers had sat, and where my Nancy and I had -come. The lights were not yet lit, for it was near midsummer, and the -night shone almost like day. The windows were open too, and I cared not -to shut out the sweet air of that summer evening.</p> - -<p>He came, bearing his harp with him, and when we were alone I spoke -freely.</p> - -<p>"Uncle Anthony," I said, "take off the patches from your eyes and stand -upright."</p> - -<p>"Ah, you have penetrated my disguise?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Even before you spoke so strangely," I replied.</p> - -<p>"I will not take off my patches, and I must not stay at your house -to-night, Roger Trevanion," he said quietly. "In an hour from now I must -be on my way again."</p> - -<p>"But why?"</p> - -<p>"I am not yet safe. For the present I will say no more. Sometime, -perchance, I may come to your house as an honoured guest."</p> - -<p>"And you shall have a royal welcome," was my answer.</p> - -<p>"But before I go, I would drive away the one cloud in the sky."</p> - -<p>I did not speak, for truly I was in the dark as to his meaning.</p> - -<p>"You, my lady Nancy," said Uncle Anthony, turning towards her, "believe -that you are not mistress of Restormel. I found out old Peter Trevisa's -secret, and so, although my heart was saddened at the failure of my -plans, and although you, Roger Trevanion, caused their failure, I -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span>determined, after all our hopes were shattered, that I would find out -the truth."</p> - -<p>"And what have you discovered?" I asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>"I have been to Ireland—to many places," he answered, "and now I have -come to give my lady Nancy her wedding dowry. Here it is," and he placed -a package in my love's hands. "There is proof," he went on, "that your -father's marriage was valid, proof that none can deny, and so Restormel -is rightfully yours."</p> - -<p>At this my dear love broke down altogether, for she had never dreamed of -this, but soon her tears were wiped away and her eyes shone again.</p> - -<p>"O Roger!" she cried, "I am glad now that you thought I was poor when -you married me."</p> - -<p>Concerning the meaning of this I have asked her many times, but she will -not tell me, neither can I think what it is, for I am sure she never -doubted my love.</p> - -<p>"And what hath become of the Killigrews?" I asked presently, after many -things were said which I need not here write down.</p> - -<p>"They were hunted from place to place as though they had been foxes," -replied Uncle Anthony. "Old Colman hath died of disappointment; aye, -more than disappointment—of a broken heart; all the rest, with the -exception of Benet and Otho, have escaped to France. They will never -come back to England again."</p> - -<p>"And Benet and Otho," I asked, "where are they?"</p> - -<p>"Otho escaped," cried the old man with a low<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> laugh; "he is as cunning -as the devil. He hath gone to Scotland, and hath joined the -Highlanders."</p> - -<p>"And Benet?"</p> - -<p>"Benet deserved a better fate. After you and he fought that night," and -again the old man laughed in his low meaning way, "and he had rejoined -his companions, he complained much of the way matters had been managed, -and declared that he would no more lift up his hand against the King. -Whereupon many being savage with drink, and mad at the words he spoke, -accused him of desiring not to kill you. This led to many unwise things -being said, and presently many of them turned upon him like a troop of -jackals turn upon a lion."</p> - -<p>"But he fought them?"</p> - -<p>"Aye, and rejoiced in it, for fighting is the breath of Benet's life. -But they were too many for him,—one acted a coward's part and stabbed -him in the back."</p> - -<p>Now at this my heart was sore, for although Benet and I had scarcely -ever met save to fight, and although he was a wild savage fellow, I -could not help loving him.</p> - -<p>"But he died like a man," I cried; "he showed no fear?"</p> - -<p>"He died grandly. He had but one regret at dying, he said."</p> - -<p>"And that?" I asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>"I was not there, but one who was, told me. 'Aye, I am grieved,' he -said, 'Trevanion promised to fight me. He was the only real man who -ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span> faced me, and now I shall not live to prove that I was the better -man of the two.'"</p> - -<p>We kept Uncle Anthony more than an hour, but we could not prevail upon -him to stay all night. It was not for him, he said, to stay at Trevanion -on the night after our wedding-day, but before he went he told us many -things concerning his life which I could not understand before. I need -not write them down here, for he would not wish it. I will only say that -the remembrance of the love he once bore for a maid made him love Nancy -as a daughter, and this almost led to a breach between him and the -Killigrews.</p> - -<p>"You will come again as soon as you can?" I said to him when at length -he left the house.</p> - -<p>"Aye, as soon as I can. May God bless you, Roger Trevanion."</p> - -<p>"He hath blessed me," I answered; "blessed me more than I believed -possible."</p> - -<p>"And God bless you, Mistress Nancy Trevanion," he said, turning to my -dear wife.</p> - -<p>"And may God bless you, Uncle Anthony."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Uncle Anthony, that is the name I love most. May I kiss your hand -again, dear lady?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said my Nancy.</p> - -<p>"Not only your hand, dear lady, but your brow, if I may."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes," was Nancy's response.</p> - -<p>"I loved a maid many years ago," he said; "her face was pure like yours, -my child, and her eyes shone with the same light, and she—she was -called Nancy."</p> - -<p>He kissed her forehead with all the passionate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> fervour of a boy, and -then went away without speaking another word.</p> - -<p>Of the packet he brought my dear wife I need say little, save that when -I showed it to Mr. Hendy, my lawyer, he remarked that none could doubt -its value. It proved beyond all dispute the validity of Godfrey -Molesworth's marriage with Nancy Killigrew, although the wedding took -place in Ireland under peculiar circumstances. And then it came about -that Restormel passed into our hands without question, and people who -would doubtless have treated her with scorn, had the marriage been -illegal, now desired to claim her friendship.</p> - -<p>I have often wondered since that night whether the Nancy which Uncle -Anthony had loved long years before was not the Nancy Killigrew who -became Godfrey Molesworth's wife, and my Nancy's mother.</p> - -<p>Hugh Boscawen rejoiced greatly over my dear wife's good fortune, and I -have since been given to understand that it was through him Peter -Trevisa had uttered no word concerning his secret, and that he was using -all his influence with the King in order to persuade him to seek to use -means whereby my Nancy might be able to rightfully claim her name and -fortune. Concerning this, however, he would never speak to me, although -I asked him many times.</p> - -<p>Not long after our marriage, however, serious matters disturbed the -country, and Hugh Boscawen became much perturbed. Charles the Pretender -succeeded in landing in Scotland with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> very few followers, and -immediately he was joined by a large number of Highlanders. Concerning -his fortunes there is of course no need to speak. All the country rang -with the news of his victories, and finally of his defeat. Few, however, -seem to realize that, had he landed in Cornwall months before, his -fortunes might have been different. Some there are who say that there -was never a danger of his coming to a part of the country where his -chances would have been so poor, and many more say that the army of -brave-hearted Cornishmen were gathered together by Boscawen without -reason. But what I have set down shows that the man whom the world calls -Lord Falmouth, and whom I always love to think of as Hugh Boscawen, -although not a great leader of armies, was still wise in his times, and -a true lover of his king and country.</p> - -<p>Otho Killigrew became a follower of the Pretender in Scotland, and had -Charles Stuart been successful in his enterprises, he would doubtless -have given Otho as high a place as that which Tom Killigrew occupied at -the court of Charles II., perhaps higher, for he was cunning beyond most -men; but at the battle of Culloden Moor, which the Duke of Cumberland -won, and when the Pretender's forces were utterly routed, Otho was -killed. Thus it was that Endellion as well as Restormel came to Nancy, -for none of the Killigrews who fled to France dared to come back and -claim their old home. It was not of much value to us, however, for both -house and lands were mortgaged for all they were worth.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span></p><p>I live at Trevanion still, for, although Restormel is a fine and larger -house, it is not home to me, neither is it to Nancy for that matter, and -we shall never think of leaving the spot endeared by long association -and obtained through the favour of the King. Besides, we could not be as -happy anywhere else. All the servants know us and love us, and old -Daniel, although he grows weak and feeble now, thinks no one can serve -us as well as he. Amelia Lanteglos, or rather Amelia Daddo, is no longer -maid to Nancy, for she hath married her one-time lover, who now hath a -farm on the Trevanion estate; but Jennifer Lanteglos is with us, and no -more faithful servant can be found anywhere.</p> - -<p>Our eldest son, Roger Molesworth, is true to the name he bears, for he -hath inherited all his mother's beauty, and looks forward to the time -when he will inherit Restormel and live on the estate; but our second -son, Benet, cares for none of these things. He is big and daring and -strong like the man after whom he is named, and cares for nothing so -much as the wild free life of the country. I tell Nancy that he -resembles Benet in many ways, and she, with the mother's love shining -from her eyes, says that he possesses all Benet Killigrew's virtues but -none of his vices.</p> - -<p>I have but little to tell now, and that little shall be told quickly.</p> - -<p class="space-above">About a year after the final defeat of the Pretender, and when the -country had settled down into peace, Jennifer Lanteglos came into the -room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span> where my Nancy and I sat alone together, save for the presence of -Molesworth, who crowed mightily as he lay in his cradle.</p> - -<p>"Please, sur, an old man is at the door asking if he may come in and -tell tales."</p> - -<p>"Let him come in, Jennifer," I said.</p> - -<p>"In the kitchen, sur?"</p> - -<p>"No, in here," for a great hope was in my heart.</p> - -<p>A few seconds later an old man entered the room bearing a harp.</p> - -<p>"Welcome home, Uncle Anthony," I said.</p> - -<p>"No, not home," he said tremblingly, "but I will stay one night if you -will let me."</p> - -<p>"No, always," said my dear Nancy, "stay for the sake of my mother, the -other Nancy."</p> - -<p>He is with us still, and is much respected in our parish. No one knows -the part he played in the days before Nancy became my wife, and although -I believe Hugh Boscawen hath his suspicions, he says nothing.</p> - -<p class="center space-above">THE END.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Mistress Nancy Molesworth, by Joseph Hocking - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH *** - -***** This file should be named 54239-h.htm or 54239-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/2/3/54239/ - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/54239-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/54239-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a8e5931..0000000 --- a/old/54239-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/54239-h/images/dec.jpg b/old/54239-h/images/dec.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 54adf0f..0000000 --- a/old/54239-h/images/dec.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/54239-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/old/54239-h/images/titlepage.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e373b0e..0000000 --- a/old/54239-h/images/titlepage.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/54239.txt b/old/54239.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 936b5b7..0000000 --- a/old/54239.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14088 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mistress Nancy Molesworth, by Joseph Hocking - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Mistress Nancy Molesworth - A Tale of Adventure - -Author: Joseph Hocking - -Release Date: February 26, 2017 [EBook #54239] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH *** - - - - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -+-------------------------------------------------+ -|Transcriber's note: | -| | -|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | -| | -+-------------------------------------------------+ - - -MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH - -A TALE OF ADVENTURE - -BY - -JOSEPH HOCKING - -Author of "The Birthright," etc. - -[Illustration: Logo] - -NEW YORK - -DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO. - -1898 - - -COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY -DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO. - - -Press of J. J. Little & Co. -Astor Place, New York - - - - -Contents - -CHAPTER PAGE - I.--Trevanion, 1 - - II.--Peter Trevisa's Offer, 10 - - III.--Crossing the Rubicon, 24 - - IV.--My Journey to Endellion, 37 - - V.--My First Night at Endellion, 51 - - VI.--The Uses of a Serving-Maid, 67 - - VII.--On the Roof of Endellion Castle, 82 - - VIII.--Otho Discovers My Name, 95 - - IX.--Benet Killigrew as a Wrestler, 111 - - X.--The Escape from Endellion, 125 - - XI.--My Fight with Benet Killigrew, 139 - - XII.--Roche Rock, 153 - - XIII.--The Wisdom of Gossiping with an Innkeeper, 168 - - XIV.--The Haunted Chapel of St. Mawgan, 181 - - XV.--The Scene at a Wayside Inn, 195 - - XVI.--Why I Took Nancy to Treviscoe, 210 - - XVII.--The Charge of Treason, 224 - - XVIII.--Otho Killigrew's Victory, 239 - - XIX.--Launceston Castle, 251 - - XX.--I Escape from the Witch's Tower, 267 - - XXI.--Describes My Journey from Launceston Castle - to a Lonely Mansion Accompanied by Two Women, 285 - - XXII.--Mistress Nancy Tells Me Many Things, 301 - - XXIII.--In Which it is Shown that Uncle Anthony - Was More than a Droll, 315 - - XXIV.--Otho Killigrew Uses an Old Proverb, 330 - - XXV.--How January Changed to June, 344 - - XXVI.--I Fall Into Otho Killigrew's Hands, 358 - - XXVII.--How Benet Killigrew and I Fought in the - Light of the Beacon Fire, 371 - -XXVIII.--Otho Killigrew's Last Move, 386 - - XXIX.--The King's Gratitude, 400 - - XXX.--In Which Uncle Anthony Plays His Harp, 414 - - - - -MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -TREVANION. - - -The only part of my history which I regard as worthy of placing on -record is confined to a few months. I was thirty-two years of age at the -time, and had thus entered into the very summer of my life. At that age -a man's position ought to be assured; at any rate his career should be -marked out with tolerable plainness. Such, however, was not my fortune. -Although I bear one of the best known and most honoured names in my -native country, I, Roger Trevanion, was in sore straits at the time of -which I write. And this not altogether because of my own faults. I did -not come into the possession of my heritage until I was thirty, my -father having retained absolute control of his estate until his death. -Up to that time I knew nothing of his money matters. Neither, indeed, -did I care. I had enough for my own use; I possessed good horses and was -able to enjoy what festivities the county provided, to the full. Ever -since my mother's death, which took place when I was fourteen, my father -paid me but little attention. He saw to it that I was taught to ride, -fence, shoot, with other accomplishments befitting my station, and then -allowed me to follow my own inclinations. As a consequence I became a -gay fellow, being guilty, I am afraid, of most of the misdemeanours -common to young men. I remembered that I was a Trevanion, however, and -while I did not belong to the most important branch of the family, I -held to the code of honour to which for many generations we had been -true. - -I knew that my father gambled freely, and had many relations with people -which were beyond my comprehension. I did not trouble about this, -however. Very few restraints were placed upon me, and I was content. - -When my father died, I discovered that I was a poor man. I had still the -semblance of wealth. I lived in the old house, and was supposed to own -the lands surrounding it. The old servants still called me master, and -the farmers paid their rents to me as they had paid them to my fathers. -In reality, however, everything was mortgaged for nearly all it was -worth. True, the lawyer told me that if I would discharge a number of -superfluous servants, get rid of a number of useless horses, and consent -to the sale of a quantity of timber, I could by practicing the strictest -economy for ten years, place everything on a satisfactory footing. - -"That will mean that I must give up hunting, racing, drinking, betting, -besides closing the house and living like a hermit, I suppose?" I said -to him. "That does not suit me. Is there no other way?" - -"Yes, there is one," he replied. - -"And that?" - -"A suitable marriage." - -I shrugged my shoulders. - -"Women are not in my way, Mr. Hendy," I said. The truth was, I had -fancied myself in love when I was twenty, with the daughter of John -Boscawen, a distant relation of the famous Boscawens. She had led me on -until I was mad about her. I was her slave for several months, and she -treated me as though I were a dog of the fetch-and-carry breed. -Presently a young fellow from a place near Penzance, Prideaux by name, -came to her father's place, and no sooner did he start a-courting her -than she sent me about my business, drove me away in fact, as though I -were a cur. Since that time I had hated women, and I grew angry at the -thought of ever being expected to put confidence in one. - -"The state of your affairs is not generally known," persisted the -lawyer, "and a wife with a handsome dowry would mean getting back the -deeds." - -"No petticoats for me," I replied angrily. - -"But if the petticoats mean comfort and freedom from money cares, would -you not be wise to put aside your prejudice against them?" - -"Anything but that," I cried, remembering Amelia Boscawen. - -"Retrenchment or a wife," persisted the lawyer. - -"Neither," I cried, angry that directly I came into my heritage I should -find myself in such a fix. - -The lawyer sighed. - -"From whom did my father borrow?" I asked presently. - -"Peter Trevisa," he replied. - -I knew the man slightly. A little, shrivelled-up, old creature who had -married late in life, and who had one son whom we called "Young Peter," -because he was so much like his father. Young Peter was not so old as I, -and I had never been friendly with him. In fact I had despised him as a -ferrety kind of fellow, with whom I had nothing in common. - -"He holds you like that," said the lawyer, putting out his hand and -clasping it. - -A great deal more was said, but to no purpose, and I went on as I had -gone before. True, I discharged one or two of the younger servants and -sold a quantity of timber, but I did not retrench as the lawyer advised. -Thus at the end of two years I was, if possible, in a worse position -than when my father died. - -One day--and here my story really begins--I rode off to a fox hunt. I -still held my head high, and rode the best horse in the field. I was -careful, too, to be well dressed, and I prided myself that in spite of -my poverty I was inferior to none. I was young, regarded as handsome, -stood over six feet in my stockings, and was well set up. As usual I -avoided women, although there were many at the meet. Although one of the -heaviest men there, I kept well ahead through the day, and in spite of -the weight of my debts I was in at the death. - -After the hunt I went to Geoffry Luxmore's ball, which was a part of -the day's programme, but I did not join the dancers. I wanted to be free -from women, and therefore accepted an invitation to take part in a game -of cards. - -While sitting at dinner I saw old Peter Trevisa. He nodded to me in a -friendly way. Afterward he came to me and caught me by the arm. - -"And how are matters going at Trevanion, eh, lad?" he asked. - -"Grandly," I replied gaily, for I was heated with good wine and I felt -no cares. - -"Thou shouldst be in the dancing-room, lad," he said. "There's many a -fine maid there; many with a big dowry. Geoffry Luxmore's daughter -should suit thee well, Roger." - -"No women for me," I cried. - -"No; dost a hate them so?" - -I shrugged my shoulders. - -"Then my Peter'll be getting Trevanion, Roger?" he said with a leer. - -In spite of my excitement I felt uneasy as I looked at his eyes. - -"I've been thinking about calling in my mortgage," he said. - -"Do," I replied. - -"Ah, sits the wind in that quarter, eh? Well, Roger, thou hast always -been a dare-devil fellow. But a landless Trevanion will be a sorry -sight." - -"There never has been one yet." - -"And if thou art the first, 'twill be a sorry business." - -I felt more uncomfortable, so I swallowed a large bumper of wine to keep -my spirits up. - -Presently we sat down to play. I won, I remember, freely at first, and -was in high good humour. - -"Luck seems with thee to-night," said old Peter Trevisa. "After all, it -seems thou'st done well to come here rather than go a-dancing with the -maidens yonder." - -As he spoke the music ceased, and on looking up I saw Ned Prideaux, the -fellow who had stolen Amelia Boscawen from me, come into the room. - -I don't know that I felt any enmity toward him; the only wrong feeling I -had for him was on account of my pride. That he should have been -preferred before me wounded my vanity. - -Old Peter Trevisa knew of the business, and laughed as he came up. - -"Thou didst beat him in courting, lad," he said to Prideaux, "let's see -if thou canst beat him at playing." - -This he said like one who had been drinking a good deal. And although I -had not seen him making free with wine, I fancied he must be fairly -drunk; consequently I did not resent his words. Besides, I was in high -good humour because of my winnings. - -"I'll take a hand with pleasure," answered Prideaux. He wiped his brow, -for he had been dancing, and sat down opposite me. - -I broke a fresh bottle of wine, and we commenced playing. Fool that I -was, I drank freely throughout the evening, and presently I became so -excited that I hardly knew what I was doing. Several fellows gathered -around to watch us, and the stakes were high. I had not been playing -with Prideaux long before my luck turned. I began to lose all I had -gained. Old Peter Trevisa chuckled as he saw that the cards were against -me. - -"Give it up, Roger," he said in a sneering kind of way; "Trevanion can't -stand bad luck, lad." - -This wounded my pride. "Trevanion can stand as much as I care to let it -stand," I replied, and I laid my last guinea on the table. - -Presently Mr. Hendy, the old family lawyer, came to my side. - -"Be careful, Mr. Trevanion," he whispered, "this is no time for ducks -and drakes." - -But I answered him with an oath, for I was in no humour to be corrected. -Besides, wild and lawless as I had been for several years, I remembered -that I was a Trevanion, and resented the family attorney daring to try -to check me in public. - -"He won't listen to reason, Hendy," sneered old Peter Trevisa. "Ah, -these young men! Hot blood, Hendy, hot blood; we can't stop a -Trevanion." - -I had now lost all my money, but I would not stop. Old Trevisa standing -at my elbow offering sage advice maddened me. I blurted out what at -another time I would not have had mentioned on any consideration. - -"You have a stake in Trevanion, Trevisa," I cried angrily. - -"Nonsense, nonsense, Roger," whispered the old man, yet so loudly that -all could hear. - -"You have," I cried, "you know you have. If I paid you all you lent my -father, there would be little left. How much would the remnant be?" - -"We'll not speak of that," laughed the old man. - -"But we will," I said defiantly, for what with wine, and bad luck, and -the irritation of the old man's presence I was beside myself. "What more -would you lend on the estate?" - -He named a sum. - -"I'll play you for that sum, Prideaux," I cried. - -"No," replied Prideaux; "no, Trevanion, you've lost enough." - -"But I will!" I replied angrily. - -"No," said Prideaux, "I'm not a gamester of that order. I only play for -such sums as have been laid on the table." - -"But you shall!" I cried with an oath; "you dare not as a gentleman -refuse me. You've won five hundred guineas from me this very night. You -must give me a chance of winning it back." - -"Luck is against you, Trevanion," replied Prideaux. "It shall never be -said of me that I won a man's homestead from him. I refuse to play." - -"Prideaux has won a maid from you!" laughed old Trevisa with a drunken -hiccup. "Be careful or he'll take Trevanion, too." - -"I'll never play for the land," cried Prideaux again. - -"But you shall," I protested. "If you refuse you are no gentleman, and -you will act like a coward to boot." - -"Very well," replied Prideaux coolly, "it shall be as you say." - -We arranged our terms and commenced playing again. - -Half an hour later I had lost the sum which old Peter Trevisa said he -could further advance on Trevanion. I do not think I revealed my -sensations when I realized that I had lost my all, but a cold feeling -came into my heart nevertheless. - -"Trevanion," said Prideaux, "we'll not regard the last half-hour's play -as anything. It was only fun." - -"That will not do," I replied. "We have played, and I have lost; that is -all." - -"But I shall not take----" - -"You will," I cried. "You have played fairly, and it is yours. I will -see to it at once that the amount shall be handed to you." - -"I will not take it," cried Prideaux. "I absolutely refuse." - -I know I was mad; my blood felt like streams of molten fire in my veins, -but I was outwardly cool. The excitement I had previously shown was -gone. Perhaps despair helped me to appear calm. - -"Look you, Peter Trevisa," I said; "you give Prideaux a draft for that -money." - -"Roger, Roger," said the old man coaxingly, "take Prideaux's offer. He -won your maid; don't let him win Trevanion too. You'll cut a sorry -figure as a landless Trevanion." - -I seized a pen which lay near, and wrote some words on a piece of paper. - -"There," I said to Prideaux as I threw it to him, "it shall not be said -that a Trevanion ever owed a Prideaux anything, not even a gaming debt. -Gentlemen, I wish you good-night." - -I left the room as I spoke and ordered my horse. I was able to walk -straight, although I felt slightly giddy. I scarcely realized what I had -done, although I had a vague impression that I was now homeless and -friendless. A ten-mile journey lay before me, but I thought nothing of -it. What time I arrived at Trevanion I know not. My horse was taken from -me by an old servant, and without speaking a word to any one I went -straight to bed. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -PETER TREVISA'S OFFER. - - -The next morning I awoke with terrible pains in my head, while my heart -lay like lead within me. For some time I could not realize what had -happened; indeed, I hardly knew where I was. It was broad daylight, but -I could not tell what the hour was. Presently a clock began to strike, -and then I realized that I lay in my own bed at Trevanion and that the -clock stood in the turret of my own stables. I counted the strokes. It -stopped at eleven. No sooner had it ceased than all that had happened -the previous night flashed through my mind. I jumped out of bed and -looked out of the window. Never had the place seemed so fair to look -upon, never had the trees looked so large and stately. And I was -burdened with the dread remembrance that it was no longer mine. When I -had dressed I tried to face the matter fairly. I tried to understand -what I had done. The more I thought about it the more I cursed myself -for being a fool. For I felt how insane I had been. I had drunk too much -wine, I had allowed myself to become angry at old Peter Trevisa's words. -I had blurted out truths which under other circumstances I would rather -have bitten my tongue in two than have told. I had acted like a madman. -Wild, foolish as I had been in the past, that night was the climax of my -folly. Why had old Peter Trevisa's presence and words aroused me so? - -The more I thought the sadder I became, the darker did my prospects -appear. I had given Prideaux a written guarantee for the money I had -been unable to pay. That piece of paper meant my ruin, if he took -advantage of it. Would he do this? Yes, I would see that he did. In -extremities as I was, I would rather sacrifice the land than violate our -old code of honour. - -I heard a knock at the door, and a servant entered. - -"From Mr. Trevisa of Treviscoe, sir," he said. - -I am afraid my hand trembled slightly as I took the letter. - -"Who brought it, Daniel?" I asked. - -"A servant, sir." - -"Let breakfast be ready in ten minutes, Daniel; I'll be down by that -time." - -"Yes, sir." - -I broke the seal of the letter and read it. I soon discovered that it -was written by young Peter Trevisa. For, first of all, it was written -in a clear hand and correctly spelt, and I knew that old Peter's writing -was crabbed and ill-shapen; besides which, the old man had not learnt -the secret of stringing words together with anything like ease. The -contents of the epistle, too, revealed the fact that the son, and not -the father, acted as scribe. The following is an exact transcript -thereof: - - - "TREVISCOE the 25th day of March in the year 1745. - - "_To Roger Trevanion, Esq., of Trevanion._ - - "DEAR SIR:--The events of last night having altered their - complexion somewhat after you left the house of Geoffry Luxmore, - Esq., and the writing which you gave to Mr. Edward Prideaux having - changed hands, with that gentleman's consent, it has become - necessary for you to visit Treviscoe without delay. My father has - therefore instructed me to write (instead of employing our - attorney, who has up to the present conducted all correspondence - relating to my father's connections with Trevanion) urging your - presence here. I am also asked to impress upon you the fact that it - will be greatly to your advantage to journey here immediately, - while your delay will be perilous to yourself. We shall therefore - expect you here within two hours from the delivery of this letter. - - "PETER TREVISA." - - -This communication certainly looked ominous, and I felt in no very -pleasant frame of mind as I entered the room beneath, where my breakfast -had been placed for me. - -"Where is the fellow who brought this, Daniel?" I asked of my old -serving-man. - -"He is standin' outside, sur. He wudden cum in. He seemed in a terble -'urry." - -I went to the door and saw a horse which had evidently been hard ridden. -It was covered with mud and sweat. The man who stood by the animal's -side touched his hat when he saw me. - -"Go into the kitchen, my man, and get something to eat and drink," I -said. - -"I must not, sur," was the reply. "My master told me to ride hard, and -to return immediately I got your answer." - -"Anything wrong at Treviscoe?" - -"Not as I know ov, sur." - -I had no hope of anything good from old Peter, and I felt like defying -him. My two years' possession of Trevanion had brought but little joy. -Every day I was pinched for money, and to have an old house to maintain -without a sufficient income galled me. The man who is poor and proud is -in no enviable position. Added to this, the desire to hide my poverty -had made me reckless, extravagant, dissolute. Sometimes I had been -driven to desperation, and, while I had never forgotten the Trevanion's -code of honour, I had become feared and disliked by many people. Let me -here say that the Trevanion code of honour might be summed up in the -following way: "Never betray a woman. Never break a promise. Never leave -an insult unavenged. Suffer any privation rather than owe money to any -man. Support the church, and honour the king." - -Having obeyed these dictates, a Trevanion might feel himself free to do -what else he liked. He could be a drunkard, a gamester, a swashbuckler, -and many other things little to be desired. I speak now for my own -branch of the family, for I had but little to do with others of my name. -In the course of years the estates had been much divided, and my -father's patrimony was never great. True, there were many hundreds of -acres of land, but, even although all of it were free from -embarrassment, it was not enough to make its owner wealthy. My father -had also quarrelled with those who bore our name, partly, I expect, -because they treated him with but little courtesy. Perhaps this was one -reason why he had been recklessly extravagant, and why he had taken no -pains to make me careful. Anyhow I am afraid that while I was feared by -many I was beloved by few. I had had many quarrels, and the law of my -county being something lax, I had done deeds which had by no means -endeared me to my neighbours. - -My pride was great, my temper was of the shortest, my tastes and habits -were expensive, and my income being small, I was weary of keeping up a -position for which I had not the means. - -Consequently, as I read young Peter Trevisa's letter, I felt like -refusing to obey his bidding. I had been true to the Trevanion code of -honour. I had given Prideaux a written promise that the gaming debt -should be paid. Let them do their worst. I was young, as strong as a -horse, scarcely knew the meaning of fatigue, and I loved adventure. I -was the last of my branch of the family, so there was no one that I -feared grieving. Very well, then, I would seek my fortune elsewhere. -There were treasures in India, there were quarrels nearer home, and -strong men were needed. There were many careers open to me; I would -leave Trevanion and go to lands beyond the seas. - -I was about to tell the man to inform his master that I refused to go to -Treviscoe, when I was influenced to change my mind. I was curious to -know what old Peter had to say. I was careless as to what he intended -doing in relation to the moneys I owed him, but I wondered what schemes -the old man had in his mind. Why did he want to see me? It would do no -harm to ride to his house. I wanted occupation, excitement, and the ride -would be enjoyable. - -"Very well," I said, "if I do not see your master before you do, tell -him I will follow you directly." - -"Yes, sur," and without another word the man mounted the horse and rode -away. - -I ate a hearty breakfast, and before long felt in a gay mood. True the -old home was dear to me, but the thought of being free from anxious care -as to how I might meet my creditors was pleasant. I made plans as to -where I should go, and what steps I should first take in winning a -fortune. The spirit of adventure was upon me, and I laughed aloud. In a -few days Cornwall should know me no more. I would go to London; when -there nothing should be impossible to a man of thirty-two. - -I spoke pleasantly to Daniel, the old serving-man, and my laughter -became infectious. A few seconds later the kitchen maids had caught my -humour. Then my mood changed, for I felt a twinge of pain at telling -them they must leave the old place. Some of them had lived there long -years, and they would ill-brook the thought of seeking new service. They -had served the family faithfully too, and ought to be pensioned -liberally instead of being sent penniless into the world. - -A little later I was riding furiously toward Treviscoe. The place was a -good many miles from Trevanion, but I reached it in a little more than -an hour. I found old Peter and his son eagerly awaiting me. - -"Glad to see you, Roger, glad to see you," said the old man. - -"Why did you send for me?" I asked. - -"I'll tell you directly. John, take some wine in the library." - -The servant departed to do his bidding, and I followed the two Trevisas -into the library. - -"Sit down by the fire, Roger, lad; that's it. First of all we'll drink -each other's health in the best wine I have in my cellar. This is a -special occasion, Roger." - -"Doubtless, a special occasion," I replied; "but no wine for me at -present. I want to keep my head cool in talking with such as you. What -do you want of me?" - -"Let's not be hasty, Roger," said old Peter, eyeing me keenly, while -young Peter drew his chair to a spot where his face was shaded, but -from which he could see me plainly. "Let's be friendly." - -"I'm in no humour to be friendly," was my rejoinder. "Tell me why you -have wished me to come to you?" - -"I would have come to you, but I had a twinge of gout this morning, and -was not able to travel. I wanted to see you on an important matter, my -dear lad." - -"Will you drop all such honeyed phrases, Peter Trevisa," I said angrily. -"I know you lent money to my father on Trevanion. I know I have been a -fool since I came into possession. Last night I lost my head. Well, -Prideaux shall be paid, and you will take the rest. I quite expect this, -and am prepared for it." - -"Prideaux has been paid," laughed the old man. - -"In cash?" - -"Aye, that he has." - -"Who paid him?" - -"I did." - -"Oh, I see. You wanted the bone all to yourself, did you," I cried -angrily. "Well, some dogs are like that. But it makes no difference to -me. Do your worst." - -"You remember this," he said, holding up the piece of paper I had given -to Prideaux the night before. - -"I was mad when I wrote it," I replied, "but I remember it well. How did -it come into your hands?" - -"Prideaux has very fine notions about honour," remarked old Peter. "He -did not like taking advantage of it, and yet he knew that you as a -Trevanion would insist on his doing so." - -"Well?" - -"Well, Roger lad, seeing I have the Trevanion deeds, I thought I might -as well have this too. So I offered him money down, and he was pleased -to arrange the matter that way. He has made the thing over to me." - -"Let's see it--his writing ought to be on it to that effect." - -"It is; aye, it is." - -"Then let me look at it." - -"No, Roger. This paper is very precious to me. I dare not let you have -it. You might destroy it then." - -"Peter Trevisa," I cried, "did ever a Trevanion do a trick like that?" - -"No, but you are in a tight corner, and----" - -"Listen, you chattering old fool," I cried angrily. "If I wished, I -could squeeze the life out of the bodies of both of you and take the -paper from you before any one could come to your aid. But that's not my -way; give it me." - -"I'll trust you, Roger; here it is." - -I looked at the paper. I saw my own promise and signature; underneath it -was stated that the money had been paid by Peter Trevisa, and signed -"Edward Prideaux." - -I flung it at him. "There," I said, "you've forged the last link in your -chain now. I am quite prepared for what I have no doubt you will do. -Trevanion is yours. Well, have it; may it bring you as much joy as it -has brought me." - -"You misjudge me," cried old Peter. "You misjudge both me and my son. -True, Trevanion would be a fine place for my lad, but then I should not -like to drive you away from your old home. All the Trevanions would turn -in their graves if any one else lived there. I want to be your friend. I -desire to help you on to your feet again." - -"Wind!" I cried. "Trust you to help any man!" - -"Listen to what my father has to say," cried young Peter. "You will see -that we both wish to be friendly." - -His face was partly hidden; nevertheless I saw the curious light shining -from his eyes. He was undersized, this young Peter, just as his father -was. A foxy expression was on his face, and his mouth betrayed his -nature. He was cunning and sensual. His was not unlike a monkey's face. -His forehead receded, his lips were thick, his ears large. - -"Roger Trevanion, my lad, there is no reason why you should have to -leave your old home. Nay, there is no reason why you should not be -better off than you have been. That is why I got this paper from Edward -Prideaux." - -Old Peter spoke slowly, looking at me from the corner of his eyes. - -"You want me to do something," I said after a minute's silence. - -"Ah, Roger," laughed the old man, "how quickly you jump at conclusions." - -"It will not do, Peter Trevisa," I cried. "You have Trevanion. Well, -make the most of it. I shall not be sorry to be away from the county. -The thought that everything has really belonged to you has hung like a -millstone around my neck. I am not going to fetch and carry for you." - -"But if you had the deeds back. If I burnt this paper. If the estate -were unencumbered. What then?" - -"You know it will not be. Trust you to give up your pound of flesh." - -"You do me an injustice," replied old Peter, with a semblance of -righteous indignation. "What right have you to say this? Have I been -hard on you. Have I dunned you for your money." - -"No; but you have lost no opportunity of letting me know that the place -belongs to you." - -"That was natural, very natural. I wanted to put a check on your -extravagance." - -I laughed in his face, for I knew this to be a lie. - -"Roger Trevanion," cried young Peter, "my father is a merciful man. He -has your welfare at heart. He is old too. Is it manly to mock old age." - -"Let there be an end of this," I cried. "I begin to see why you have -brought me here. I knew you had some deep-laid plans or I would not have -come. It is always interesting to know what such as you think. Well, -let's know what it is." - -For the moment I seemed master of the situation. An outsider would have -imagined them in my power instead of I being in theirs. Especially did -young Peter look anxious. - -"I am sure we can trust Roger," said the old man. "When a Trevanion -gives his word he has never been known to break it." - -"But they are learning to be careful how to give their word," I -retorted. - -Peter looked uneasy. "But if I ask you to keep what I tell you a secret, -you will promise, Roger?" - -"I ask for no confidences," I replied. - -"You said just now that we wanted you to do something," said young -Peter. "You guessed rightly. If you do not feel inclined to do what we -ask you, you will of course respect anything we may tell you?" - -"That is but fair," was my answer. - -"You promise, then?" cried old Peter. - -"If I honourably can," I replied. - -For a few seconds both men were silent; then old Peter began to speak -again. - -"Roger Trevanion," he said, "you know that I hold the deeds of -Trevanion; you know that you are entirely at my mercy." - -"Well enough." - -"You would like to remain at Trevanion? You, a Trevanion, would not like -to be an outcast, a mere vagrant, a landless gipsy." - -"I don't care much," I replied. "I should be free; and I would rather be -landless than be supposed to own the land, while everything practically -belonged to you. I've told you this before. Why make me say it again?" - -"But you would like the deeds back. You would like to live at the old -home with plenty of money?" - -"You know I would. Why mock me?" - -"You would do a great deal in order that this might come to pass." - -"What do you want?" - -We had come back to the same point again, and again old Peter hesitated. - -"You know Restormel?" he said at length. - -"Restormel Castle, up by Lostwithiel?" I asked. - -"No; Restormel in the parish of St. Miriam, a few miles north from -here?" - -"Oh, yes, I know." - -"What do you know?" - -Both old Peter and young Peter spoke in the same breath; both spoke -eagerly, too--anxiously in fact. - -"What is rumoured by certain gossips," I replied. "I expect there is no -truth in it." - -"But what have you heard?" - -"It is said that the estate belongs to a chit of a maid," I replied; -"that the maid's mother died at her birth, and that her father, Godfrey -Molesworth, did not long survive her. That he was broken-hearted. That -everything was left to a mere baby." - -"But what became of the baby?" - -"I know not. I have heard that she has never been seen on the place, -although her father has been dead wellnigh twenty years. That the rents -are paid to Colman Killigrew who lives at Endellion Castle, and who is a -godless old savage. Rumour says that he claims to be the maid's -guardian. But of this I am ignorant. He lives full fifty miles from -here, and I know nothing of him." - -"That is all you have heard?" - -"That is all I can remember at present." - -"You have never seen the maid?" - -"No. Who has? Stay; I have heard she was placed in a convent school. Old -Killigrew is a Catholic, I suppose." - -"I'll tell you more, Roger Trevanion. Colman Killigrew has been -fattening on the Restormel lands for wellnigh twenty years. He hath kept -the maid, Nancy Molesworth, a prisoner. In a few months she will be -twenty-one. He intends marrying her to one of his sons. She hates the -whole tribe of Killigrews, but he cares nothing for that. He is -determined; you can guess why." - -"Yes, such things are common. But what is that to me? I know nothing of -the maid, Nancy Molesworth; I do not care. Let the Killigrews marry her; -let them possess Restormel." - -"My son Peter hath seen the maid, Roger." - -"Ah! How?" - -"He had to pay a visit in the neighbourhood of Endellion Castle, and he -saw her by chance." - -"Spoke he to her?" - -"No, he did not; she did not see him. She is kept a close prisoner, but -my Peter hath lost his heart." - -I turned and looked at young Peter, and his face looked more monkeyish -than ever. A simpering smile played around his protruding mouth. His -eyes shone like those of a weazel. - -"Well," I said, "what is this to me?" - -"This, Roger Trevanion. I want that maid, Nancy Molesworth, brought here -to Treviscoe. I want to save her from those Papist savages who would -bring ruin upon the maid and upon the country." - -"That's nothing to me," I replied; "I avoid women. They are all -alike--all cruel, all selfish, all false as hell. Why tell your plans to -me?" - -"Because," cried young Peter, "if you will bring the sweet maid, Nancy -Molesworth, to Treviscoe, you shall have the Trevanion deeds back. I -will destroy this paper you gave to Prideaux, and we will forgive a -large part of the money you have had from us." And he named a fairly -liberal sum. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -CROSSING THE RUBICON. - - -I must confess to being startled by this proposal. I had not foreseen -it. That I should have to do with any woman formed no part of my plans. -As I have said, I hated women; I had not forgotten the lesson I had -learnt as a lad. Hence the suddenness of his proposal took me somewhat -aback. - -But I did not betray my feelings. Instead I walked quietly around the -room, occasionally glancing at the two men who watched me closely. - -"If I refuse to do this," I said presently, "you will of course make -good your claims on Trevanion?" - -Both nodded. - -"And if I consent, you will in payment for my services destroy the paper -I gave to Prideaux, give me back the deeds, and forgive the amount you -mentioned?" - -"I will have papers drawn up to that effect," replied old Peter in -honeyed tones. "I will always be a friend to you, and render you any -little services in my power. You are but thirty-two. Think what a gay -life you could live!" - -I saw what was in his mind. He thought I should continue my spendthrift -habits, and that as a natural consequence he would soon possess the -deeds again. But I said nothing. There was no need that I should. -Besides at that moment I felt a great desire to stay at Trevanion, and I -formed a resolution that if ever I got the deeds, I would never let them -go out of my possession again. - -The matter required thinking about; and heedless of the inquiries I -still paced Treviscoe library, trying the while to read the two -Trevisas' motives, and understand the whole bearings of the case. I was -not long in forming conclusions. - -"The Restormel estates are valuable, I suppose?" I said at length. - -"There is some very good land on it," replied old Peter. "Molesworth -harbour is in it." - -"Just so; and you mean that young Peter should marry this maid?" I -continued. - -"And what then?" cried old Peter. "That's naught to you. You hate all -women, you say. You care not what may become of her if you have your -deeds back, and become a prosperous man?" - -"No!" I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "I care not"; and yet I felt -uneasy, I knew not why. - -"Besides the maid hates the Killigrews, hates 'em!" - -"How do you know?" - -"I've found out." - -I must confess I did not like the work. The idea that I should take a -maid barely twenty-one from the man claiming to be her guardian, and -bring her to Treviscoe, the home of these two Trevisas, was repellent to -me. I was not over-particular what I did as a rule, but this caused a -nasty taste in my mouth. This Nancy Molesworth might marry young Peter, -crawling ugly worm as he was, that was nothing to me; what matter it who -women married? He might have the Restormel lands too, if he could get -them. Still, although I had given myself pretty much over to the devil -during the last few years, I did not like the thought that a Trevanion -should do the dirty work of a Trevisa. - -Had they told me all? Why should they select me for this mission? And -why should they be willing to pay such a big price? There were plenty of -gangs of cut-throats in Cornwall who would do their bidding for a less -sum. - -"You had better place this affair in other hands," I said at length. - -"Haven't we offered enough?" cried young Peter. - -"It's too dear at any price, I am afraid," I replied, and yet my heart -went out toward Trevanion as I spoke. - -"You are prepared to give up your old home, discharge your old -servants, and become nameless then?" old Peter said, his ferrety eyes -fastened on me all the while. - -"Others would do it cheaper," I replied; "far cheaper. Tom Belowda's -gang would attempt the work for a hundred guineas." - -Young Peter lost his head as I spoke. "Could I trust the sweet maid with -a gang of roughs?" he cried; "besides, we should place ourselves in -their power, they would know our secrets." - -"It would pay them not to tell." - -"Aye, but a secret held by such ceases to be a secret." - -I saw that my game was to hold back, and I continued to do so. The -thought of retaining Trevanion grew dearer each minute, but I did not -let them know. - -"It's a difficult task," I suggested, still continuing to pace the room. - -"Not so difficult for such as you," said old Peter coaxingly. "When you -Trevanions make up your mind to do a thing you do it, although the -furies stand in your way. You are as strong as a horse and if need be -could fight like a fiend from the bottomless pit. Not that there would -be any need," he added quickly. - -"If it is so easy," I retorted, "let young Peter do this himself. He -says he loves this maid, and love," I laughed sneeringly, "overcomes all -difficulties. This is just the work for a lover. It smacks of far-off -days. Let Peter attack the castle like the knights of past ages, and -bear off his bride in triumph. He would make a fine sight carrying a -maid on his crupper." - -I saw a look of vindictive hatred shine from young Peter's eyes, but he -said nothing. - -"Peter is not fit for such work," was the old man's reply. "He was -delicate from a child. Riding wearies him, he has neither the strength -nor the daring necessary." - -"You say that Killigrew has sons?" I said at length, a new thought -flashing into my mind. - -"Yes." - -"Many?" - -"Five." - -"Be they weaklings like you, or strong fighting men?" I said, turning to -young Peter. - -"Strong men, giants," he said quickly, and then he tried to qualify his -words as though he were afraid that difficulties would hinder me. - -For the first time I found pleasure in the thought of accepting the -mission. It fired my blood to think of doing battle with these sturdy -Killigrews. They were Papists too, and I had been taught to hate them -from my childhood. I longed for some reckless work to do. At first it -had seemed tame and mean to carry away a chit of a maid from Endellion -Castle, and take her to Treviscoe, that she might become the wife of -Peter Trevisa. I surmised, too, that young Peter thought quite as much -of Restormel as he did of the maid. But to go into a house where there -were five young fellows who were giants, and take away a maid who was -closely guarded, aroused all my love for adventure. - -"What is this Endellion Castle?" I asked. "Is it one of the old Cornish -fortresses?" - -"Part of the castle still stands," replied young Peter. "The grandfather -of the present Colman Killigrew built the present house adjoining it." - -"It is well guarded, I suppose?" - -"Yes," replied young Peter reluctantly. "Colman Killigrew and all his -sons are rebels at heart. In his father's days he and his family -supported King James; they long for a Catholic to be on the throne, and -there is a rumour that they are planning against our good King George." - -"Hath anything been proved against them?" - -"No, not proved, but matters look suspicious. Rumour saith, that should -there be a rebellion he could command five hundred swords. There is a -strong Papist feeling in the neighbourhood of Endellion." - -"And the maid, is she a Papist?" - -"Her father, Godfrey Molesworth, was a strong Protestant, but Heaven -only knows what they have persuaded her to be." - -This information caused new thoughts to come into my mind, and I -determined to remember what he had told me. - -"Are Colman Killigrew and his sons beloved by the neighbouring -families?" I asked presently. - -"He is both beloved and hated. Some of the Catholics are his friends, -but others mistrust him sorely." - -These matters came out slowly. Evidently young Peter did not care about -discussing them. Perchance he was afraid lest I should shrink from -trying to carry out his plans when I knew them. - -I was silent for some time. I pondered much over what I had heard. - -"All this should be nothing to thee, Roger, lad," said old Peter, -becoming more and more familiar in his tones. "All the Trevanions for -many generations have sought to help the oppressed. Thou hast the blood -of thy fathers within thee. This is work worthy of the best. Besides, if -thou wilt do this, both Peter and myself will befriend thee always. -Peter's heart went out after the maid, and he longed to set her free. -She is suffering, Roger, suffering greatly. Killigrew will rob her, and -sell her to one of his brutal sons. Such a work as we asked will win the -blessing of Heaven." - -"Have done with this Quaker talk!" I cried. "I care nothing about such -things. Perchance the maid will be better off where she is than with -you; perchance, too, one of these Killigrews will make a better husband -for her than your puling lad." - -"Nay, think not so," cried the old man; "Peter is a good lad, weak in -body, but quick in thinking, and hath a kind heart." - -"I like a fight," I blurted out; "I do not object to a rough bit of -work, but----" I mused. - -"But what, Roger, lad?" - -"I hate aught that hath to do with women. This matter presents many -difficulties. I must get to speak with the maid, if she be as you say. -If not, I must carry her off by force. Anyway I shall have a wench on my -hand for days. I dislike this. I am no woman's man, and I should repel -her by my roughness." - -Peter's eyes glistened. "But you would be kind to her?" he asked -eagerly. - -"Kind!" I replied. "I would always treat a helpless maid with respect. -No man who is a man could be cruel to these poor things, who cannot -fight for themselves. Still one cannot trust women. Mostly they would -betray a man at a pinch even though he were fighting for their welfare." - -"That is why we are anxious to have such a man as you to help us," cried -old Peter. "If we gave this to some, my lad would be eating his heart -away with jealousy. He would think they would be plotting to take her -away from him. But you, Roger, you have been badly treated by women, -therefore----" - -"I should pay them scant courtesy," I interrupted. - -"I know a Trevanion would always treat a well-born maid as she should be -treated. Besides----" - -"Besides what?" - -"If you promise to bring the maid here, you will bring her." - -"Yes," I replied grimly, "if I promise." - -"You are as clever as a lawyer, and strong as a horse," wheedled old -Peter, "and a Trevanion always keeps his promise." - -To this I vouchsafed no reply, but I saw the old man's purpose in trying -to flatter me. - -"Will you promise?" cried young Peter at length, after much more talk. - -I considered the matter again. I thought of the Trevanion deeds, and -the forgiveness of half the debts my father had contracted. On the other -hand, I pictured myself going into the world a landless wanderer, after -having turned all the old servants adrift. It was not pleasant. Then I -tried to realize the work these two Trevisas wanted me to do. Should I -bring a maid, badly as she might be treated by the Killigrews (and I -much doubted this portion of their narrative), a maid well born and -beauteous, to be the wife of a crawling worm like young Peter Trevisa? -But this did not trouble me much. What did I care who she married? -Killigrew, a giant cut-throat, or Trevisa, a weak-chested, -knocked-kneed, sensual little vermin?--it mattered not. Neither did I -trouble much as to who possessed the Restormel lands. Still I was a -Trevanion, and a Trevanion hates dirty work--at least of that kind. - -On the other hand, I loved adventure. The thought of spiting these -Killigrews and taking the maid from them, even though I knew little of -them, except that they were Papists, stirred my blood. True I did not -understand all the motives of the Trevisas in selecting me to do this -work, but that did not matter. I doubted much if the maid would consent -to marry young Peter, although I brought her to Treviscoe. That, -however, was not my business. Old Peter regarded his son as a handsome -man, with brains enough for two; I knew him to be a flat-chested, ugly -weakling with plenty of cunning. - -"Have you made up your mind?" asked old Peter at length. - -"Yes," I cried. - -"You will undertake the work?" - -"On conditions." - -He got up from his seat and held out his hand to me. "Let's shake hands -on it," he cried. - -"Not yet," I replied; "I must name my conditions first." - -"Well, what are they, Roger, lad? Don't be unreasonable." - -"First," I replied, "this business will need money. It may take many -weeks. I know not what will happen to me on the way. I must not go to -Endellion a moneyless man." - -"We have thought of that," replied young Peter; "there are a hundred -guineas in this bag." - -"That is well," I replied; "it is a stingy allowance, but it may -suffice. The next condition I make is, that you draw up a writing -stating what you have just promised me." - -"It shall be done." - -"Then send for Mr. Hendy, my attorney, without delay." - -"Why?" - -"That it may be placed in his hands." - -"I--I cannot consent to that," cried old Peter. "I want no other person -to know our plans. I will keep the paper safely, lad, quite safely." - -I thought I saw his cunning now. If they kept the agreement, I should be -quite powerless to claim my own, even if I did my work. I saw, too, why -they were so willing to offer liberal terms. - -"If you refuse, I refuse," I replied. "I stake everything on this, Peter -Trevisa. If I fail to bring that maid here to Treviscoe, it will mean -that I am a dead man, for I swear that I will not give up while I am -alive. If I promise, I promise." This I said firmly, for I knew the -danger which attended my work. - -"But I will do right, you may trust me," wheedled the old man. - -"Maybe," I replied; "do as I say, or I refuse. I simply demand that you -write the matter down and sign it. On conditions that I bring the maid, -Nancy Molesworth, to Treviscoe, within two months, you give me back the -Trevanion deeds, the paper I gave Prideaux, and a declaration that you -forgive me the money you mentioned. If I do not bring the maid here in -that time, it shall be returned to you, and you can destroy it." - -He tried to wriggle out of this, and brought forward as many objections -as if he were a lawyer. But I did not yield, and so at length, doubtless -believing they would be able to get the better of me, even if I -succeeded in my mission, he promised. - -"Let us send for Lawyer Hendy at once, and then the matter will be -settled," he said, as though he were thinking of means whereby he could -keep me in his power. - -"Not yet," I said; "there is yet another condition." - -"No, no!" he cried; "I have made no more conditions." - -"This will have to be complied with," I replied with a laugh, for to see -these men yielding to my terms made me merry. - -"What more do you want?" asked old Peter after many words. - -"I demand that Lawyer Hendy shall manage Trevanion while I am away," I -said. "If I do not return in two months you may conclude that I am dead. -In that case I demand that certain sums of money be given to the -servants who have served our family for many years." These sums I named, -also the servants to whom they were to be given. - -"I agree to the first part of the condition, not the second," cried old -Peter. - -"Why?" I asked. "Do you expect me to fail? Do you think I shall be -killed? Is the expedition so dangerous? A little while ago you said it -was very easy, and that I should be sure to succeed." - -"But it is not fair," whined he. "In that case I should lose much money -for nothing." - -"And I risk everything. You will have to do this only in case of my -death. I may lose my life, and you refuse to lose a few paltry guineas." - -"I tell you I will not!" he cried. - -"Very well, then you may get some one else to do your work." - -"Then I will have Trevanion. Every stick, every field, every jot and -tittle will be mine, and you will have to leave the county a vagrant," -shrieked the old man. - -"No," I said firmly. "I will go to Endellion on my own account. -Possibly the maid might bring me fortune." - -"But you promised you would not," pleaded young Peter. - -"I promised nothing of the sort. I said I would tell no man. Neither -will I." - -"But you hate women," he continued; "you have refused your lawyer to -marry a woman with money, even although it might save your estates!" - -I laughed aloud, for this speech was uttered in a whining, yet savage -way, just like a dog who is afraid whines, showing its teeth all the -time. - -"I did not know then what I know now," I said with glee, for it was a -pleasant thing to see these scheming money-grubs having the worst of a -game. - -They wriggled and twisted finely for some time, and then consented, as I -knew they would, for I saw from the beginning that they had concocted a -scheme which would mean much profit to them. Besides I believe that -young Peter was really much in love with the maid Nancy Molesworth. So -Lawyer Hendy was sent for, old Peter trying to ply me with wine the -meanwhile. In this he did not succeed, however, for I felt I must not -lose my head, and thus be led to do foolish things. - -We drew up the papers as I had stipulated; they were signed by both -Peter and his son, and Lawyer Hendy was given full instructions. - -On leaving, I took the money old Peter had offered me and counted it -carefully. - -"You will do your best, Roger; you will not break your promise?" he -said tremulously. - -"I do not break promises," I replied. - -"When will you start?" - -"To-morrow morning!" - -"God bless you, Roger." - -"I am not sure He can while I do your work," I replied. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -MY JOURNEY TO ENDELLION. - - -The next morning I started to ride to the home of the Killigrews. I -could see that Daniel sorely wanted to accompany me, but I decided not -to take him. In nine cases out of ten a man does work better when -unencumbered. Mostly people who pretend to help fail to understand what -is in one's mind, and as a consequence generally bungle things -grievously. I did not want this matter bungled. The more I thought about -it the more was I determined to see the thing through successfully. The -picture of living at Trevanion, practically unharassed by debts, became -more pleasant each hour. Besides as a race we were not given to -bungling, and although I was little in love with the thought of having a -maid for a companion, I gloried in the prospect of measuring wits, and -if needs be swords, with these sturdy Killigrews. I therefore mounted my -favourite horse which I called "Chestnut," on account of his colour; a -horse the like of which was difficult to be matched. He was going five, -stood over sixteen hands high, and was of a build which united strength -with speed to such a degree that half the squires in the county wanted -him. I had been sorely tempted to sell him, but had never yielded to the -temptation. I had always prided myself on riding the best horse in the -county, and Chestnut was certainly second to none. In spite of my -unusual weight he carried me easily, he would run until he dropped, and -possessed tremendous staying power. Added to this, I had seen him -foaled, had fed him with my own hands, and when Jenkins, the famous -horse-breaker, declared to me his inability to "break him in," I had -undertaken the task myself, and had succeeded. I did it by a new method, -too, for I never struck him a blow. I do not attribute this to any -special power I possess over horses generally, for Jenkins would in nine -cases out of ten succeed where I failed. The truth was, Chestnut, when -he was a colt, regarded me as a sort of playfellow and learnt to love -me. Being an intelligent animal, he soon understood me, indeed he had a -curious instinct by which he seemed to divine my thoughts and feelings. -I carefully armed myself, and placed in my saddle-bags as much -ammunition as I could conveniently carry. I did not know whether I -should stand in need of these things, but I thought it well to be -prepared. The county was infested by robbers, and as I carried a large -amount of money I thought it well to test my sword-blade and pistols. -Thus equipped I had no fear. I was a fair shot, and generally held as a -strong swordsman. - -"When may I expect 'ee back then, sur, makin' so bold?" asked Daniel as -I mounted. - -"I don't know, Daniel; don't expect me until you see me. As you know, I -have given you full particulars, and Mr. Hendy will visit you -constantly." - -"You be goin' into danger, Master Roger," said the serving-man -tremulously. "Laive me go weth 'ee, sur." - -Daniel was nearly fifty years of age, and had served our family all his -life, so he had been allowed to take liberties. - -"Ould Smiler es jist aitin his 'ead off, sur, and I baint no good 'ere -when you be gone. Taake me weth 'ee, sur. You wa'ant be sorry." - -As I said, I did not think it best to take him, so I rode away leaving -him disconsolate. On my way to the home of the Killigrews I passed -through Truro, Tresillian, Ladock, and Mitchell, but nothing happened -worthy of note. I did not hurry, rather I rode slowly, for I wanted to -enjoy the quiet of the day. Everywhere new life was appearing. -Everywhere, too, the spirit of rest seemed to reign. In those days I did -not think much about the beauties of early spring, but I could not help -being impressed by the scene around Tresillian. The little arm of the -river enclosed by wooded hills was indeed fair to look upon. I rested my -horse at the gates of Tregothnan, where the Boscawens lived and looked -with somewhat envious eyes on the long line of yew-trees which bordered -the drive, and remembered that I had once loved the maid who was -related to the people who dwelt in the great house in the distance. - -I did not get beyond St. Columb that day, and, on arriving there, tried -to find out something about the Killigrews. I had not gone far enough -north, however. The main branch of the family, as all the country knows, -had lived at St. Erme, about five miles north of Truro, also at -Falmouth, but it had died out. Colman Killigrew was the descendant of -one Benet Killigrew, who, although he did not, like some of his -relations, become a courtier, was sufficiently fortunate to marry a -Mistress Scobell Rosecarrick, of Endellion, in which Endellion Castle -was situated. Through her this branch of the Killigrews became possessed -of a pleasant estate, and also became allied to an ancient race. This I -had learnt by reading Carew's survey of Cornwall after I had returned -from Peter Trevisa. Of their present condition, however, I knew nothing, -neither could I discover anything about them at St. Columb. - -Arriving at Wadebridge the next day, my attention was attracted by an -inn called "The Molesworth Arms." As the name of the maid I had promised -to take from Endellion to Treviscoe was Molesworth, and as it was -moreover the chief inn in the town, I decided to rest there and partake -of some refreshment. Although it was scarcely noon, I found the common -room of the inn filled with a number of people. Mostly the occupants -were farmers, although I fancied one or two of them belonged to the -gentlefolk of the neighbourhood. I did not pay particular attention to -them, however, because my interest became centred in a hale-looking old -man, who was evidently a travelling story-teller and minstrel. He had -finished his singing, and was now telling a story before taking his -departure. There is no need that I should repeat the tale here; at the -same time I mention the incident because I was impressed by the wondrous -way he had of making us all look at him. One could have heard a pin drop -when he was speaking. I was fascinated by him too, partly, I expect, -because I did not understand him. As all the county knows, a -tale-teller, or a wandering singer, who is usually called "a droll," is -no unusual thing. Many of them had visited Trevanion, and I had always -given them food and a bed. Mostly they came when the house was full of -visitors, and regaled the company with song and story. But they were -mostly of the lower orders of life, and spoke the Cornish dialect. -Indeed their stories usually had but little charm apart from the -dialect, although occasionally tales were told which were interesting -because of their subject-matter. These were generally of a supernatural -order, and described the dead arising or spirits coming back to the -world to bring some message to their friends. I had never seen this man -at Trevanion, however, neither did he belong to the class who had -visited the house. It is true he spoke the Cornish dialect, but at times -he let words drop which showed he knew something of learning. He had an -air of authority with him, too, which suggested that he lived on terms -of equality with men of position. At least this was what I thought. - -He paid no attention to me, save to give me one glance, and when he had -finished his story said he must move on. - -"Stay till even', Uncle Anthony," said the innkeeper, "do 'ee now. A -passel of people will be comin'." - -"No," replied Uncle Anthony, "I have promised to be twelve miles away by -to-night, so I mus' be goin'." - -"Tich yer 'arp afore you go, Uncle," pleaded the innkeeper. - -"I sha'ant, I tell 'ee," replied Anthony. - -A number of coins were thrown to the droll, and then shouldering his -harp he left the inn. - -"'Ee's a cure es Uncle Anthony," said the innkeeper, turning to me; "'ee -es for sure, sur." - -"Who is he?" I asked. "He does not seem like a common droll." - -"He ed'n for sure, sur. I've 'eerd that Uncle do come of a rich family, -but law, you ca'ant git nothin' from un. Everybody es glad to zee un. -He's a clain off zinger, and can play butiful, 'ee can. Which way ded -you cum then, sur, makin' sa bould." - -"From southward," I replied. - -"Far, sur?" - -"From Truro." - -"Aw, I thot you wos a bit of a furriner. I cud zee you ded'n belong to -thaise paarts. Goin' fur, sur?" - -"Probably to Bodmin town," I replied, for I did not feel like taking -the talkative innkeeper into my confidence. - -"Aw, Uncle Anthony es well knawed in thais paarts, 'ee es for sure. And -'ee d' knaw a lot too. Wot Uncle doan knaw ed'n much use to nobody." - -I stayed at the inn till late in the afternoon, during which time I -plied the innkeeper with many questions, but I learnt nothing about the -Killigrews more than I had hitherto discovered; then I mounted Chestnut -and rode towards Endellion, in which parish the maid Nancy Molesworth -lived. - -I could not help noticing what a pretty spot Wadebridge was as I rode -over the bridge, after which the town was called. The tide was high, and -several good-sized vessels lay at the riverside. But I had naught to do -with them, so stopping only to take a glance at the river as it -broadened out towards Padstow, and again in the other direction as its -waters lapped the banks near the little village of Egloshayle, I rode on -towards St. Minver. - -It must be remembered that it was the twenty-sixth day of March, and so -daylight began to fade soon after six o'clock, and as I wanted to reach -the home of the Killigrews before dark, I rode rapidly. I puzzled my -brains sorely to know by what pretext I could enter the house, also -under what name I should present myself. I dared not tell them that I -was a Trevanion, for my people were well known. We were well known to -the Killigrews who had lived at Pendennis Castle, also to those who -possessed a place a few miles from Truro. Moreover, all the Trevanions -were stout Protestants, and as Colman Killigrew and his sons were rank -Papists, I dared not appear to them under this guise. My pride rebelled -against assuming a false name and professing a false religion, but I had -promised Peter Trevisa, and as in those days I was not over-particular -about such matters I vowed to let nothing stand in the way of my seeing -the business through. - -My purpose was to stay at Endellion several days, else how could I -accomplish my mission? In order to do this I must in some way establish -some claim upon the owner thereof. There would be no difficulty in -staying one night, or even two, for the laws of Cornish hospitality made -this easy. No house of importance would close its doors to a traveller, -be he rich or poor. I determined, therefore, to pretend that I was a -member of an obscure branch of the Penryn family, who were well known to -be Catholics; that I was the owner of a small Barton, and that I was -anxious to see a Catholic king on the throne of England. That I had -heard rumours of the probability of the grandson of King James coming to -England, and that could a leader be found I might render assistance to -the Catholic cause. - -Beyond this I decided upon nothing. If questions were asked me, I must -trust to my wits. I determined to keep a cool head and open eyes. If the -worst came to the worst I could fight with the best, indeed I rather -hoped for difficult work. - -Presently I saw the tower of Endellion Church. It was on a little -hillside, while all around the country was bare, as far as trees were -concerned. I rode towards the little village, and seeing a strapping -maid, I stopped and spoke to her. - -"Do you know where Squire Killigrew lives, my pretty maid?" I asked. - -She laughed in my face, revealing fine white teeth and shining blue -eyes. - -"Iss, sur. Endellion." - -"This is Endellion, is it not?" I said, pointing to the church. - -"This is the Church Town, this is. Endellion es dree miles from we, -right over ginst the say." - -"The Killigrews live there, you say? Do you know them?" - -"Knaw 'em. Who doan't?" - -"I don't, but I want to see them." - -The maid stared at me as though she were afraid, then she said almost -fearfully. - -"Doan't 'ee knaw 'em?" - -"No," I replied. - -"Do they knaw you?" - -"No." - -"Then doan't 'ee go, sur. They'll kill 'ee, sur. They be terble, sur. -They taake no noatice of the passon, nor the bible, sur." - -I saw that the maid was in earnest. No one was near, for I had not -entered the village, so I dismounted and stood by her side. - -"You seem a good maid," I said, "and I believe you would not tell a lie. -What know you of these Killigrews?" - -"I'm feared to tell 'ee, sur. Nearly everybody es feared to go there. -The 'ouse es full ov rubbers. Say rubbers, and land rubbers. People -miles round 'ave bin rubbed, and murdered, and people do zay tes they. -But we ca'ant tell. And everybody es feared to tackle 'em. They be -fighters, terble fighters. Some ov 'em do ride ere zumtimes like maazed -people. Doan't 'ee go 'mong 'em, sur, doan't 'ee now. - -"Yes, I must go." - -"Then taake care ov yezelf, sur. You be very big and strong, sur; and do -car a sword. But doan't 'ee vex 'em." - -"I'll be careful. Is that all you know?" - -"That's oall, sur." - -"And yonder is the road?" I said, pointing northwards. - -"Iss, sur, that's ev et." - -I gave the maid a crown piece and a kiss, whereupon she blushed finely, -but curtsied like one well reared, as I believe she was. - -"Whan you git to the crossways, sur, turn to the right. The left road do -laid to Rosecarrick. Do 'ee be careful, sur, an' doan't 'ee vex 'em." - -I laughed as I mounted my horse. "I'll remember," I said; "what is your -name, my maid?" - -"Jennifer Lanteglos, sur," and she curtsied again as I rode away. - -"Evidently Jennifer Lanteglos is afraid of the Killigrews," I thought as -I rode away. It was now becoming dusk, but I felt sure I could easily -cover the three miles before dark. I had not gone a mile, when I saw a -man tramping along the lane. I stopped as I overtook him. I saw that he -was the droll I had seen at Molesworth Arms at Wadebridge. - -"Uncle Anthony," I said, using the term I had heard the innkeeper use, -for the term "uncle" is one of respect towards elderly people, "go you -my way?" - -"What a question," retorted the old man. "How do I know ef you doan't -tell me where you be goin'?" - -"I am going to Squire Colman Killigrew's at Endellion," I replied. - -"Do 'ee think you'll git in?" laughed Uncle Anthony. - -"Yes," I replied, "the Killigrews are of an old Cornish family, they -will give shelter to a traveller." - -He eyed me keenly. "A traveller! Ugh! a purty traveller. But doan't 'ee -be sa sure of gittin' into Endellion!" - -"Go you there?" - -"Iss," he replied. - -"Then if you can get shelter, why not I?" - -"I--I?" he retorted sharply. "I go everywhere. Nobody'll zay no to ould -Ant'ny. I zing, an' tell taales, an' shaw 'em wizard's tricks, I do." - -"Then if we go as fellow-travellers, both will be taken in." - -"I zeed 'ee at Wadebridge," he said. "You come from a long way off, you -do. Wa's yer name, young squire?" - -"Roger Penryn." - -"Penryn, Penryn," he repeated the name slowly, and looked at me again. -"Iss, we'll be fellow-travellers. I'll take 'ee to Endellion." - -I did not understand his behaviour, but I determined to make the best -use of him that I could. The innkeeper at Wadebridge had told me that -every house was open to Uncle Anthony, for in country places where -entertainment was scarce he was regarded as a godsend. - -"You look tired, Uncle," I said; "get on my horse, and ride the -remaining distance." - -He did not speak, but when I had dismounted he prepared to climb on to -Chestnut. - -"It's a long time since I was on the back of a 'oss like this," he -remarked when he was seated. - -"And you would not remain long on," I replied, "if I was not here to -keep Chestnut in order." - -He opened his mouth as if to contradict me sharply, but seeming to think -better of it, simply asked me to hand his harp to him. - -"I can carry it," I assured him. - -"No one carries that harp but me," he replied sharply; "the devil wud -git into un, if other hands than mine did hould un." - -So I handed him the instrument, more and more puzzled at his manner of -speech. I walked slowly by Chestnut's head, who seemed to resent his -change of rider, but a word from me kept him quiet, after which no -conversation took place till I saw a large stone gateway. - -"What's yon?" I asked Anthony. - -"The gateway to the place where the Killigrews do live," he replied. - -I had hardly opened the gate when I heard a tramping of feet and a -hurried sound of voices near. Immediately a rough hand was laid on my -arm, and I saw that we were surrounded by several men. It was now nearly -dark, and I could not well distinguish who had attacked us. Bidding -Chestnut be still I freed myself in a moment, and drew my sword. - -"No," cried Uncle Anthony. "Doan't 'ee knaw me, Clement Killigrew; -doan't 'ee knaw Uncle Anthony, Benet, Colman?" - -"Down," cried a strong deep voice. "Uncle Anthony on horseback! What -means this?" - -"Visitors to Endellion, Benet; a supper and a bed!" replied the droll. - -"A supper and bed for thee, and welcome, Uncle Anthony," was the reply, -"but for this jackanapes,--no, we keep no open house for such." - -"Jackanapes yourself," I cried hotly, for I could ill brook such words. -"You carry swords, come on then one at a time, and we will see who is a -jackanapes." - -But no swords were drawn. Instead they looked at me keenly. - -"Is this horse thine?" - -"It is." - -"Why let old Uncle Anthony ride on him then?" - -"That is my affair, not yours." - -"Know you to whom you speak?" - -"I thought I did at first. I was told that this is the entrance to -Colman Killigrew's house, and I thought you might be Killigrews. But -they be gentlemen, and know decent ways, so I judge you cannot be -they." - -A general laugh followed this sally, and then one of them spoke in low -tones to Uncle Anthony. - -"We have been mistaken," said one presently. "If you bear the name of -Penryn, come to Endellion, and welcome. We may know your business later -on. But we live a rough life here, and make not friends easily." - -"But they be cutthroats, footpads, who attack a man unawares," I -replied. - -"And we be Killigrews, Roger Penryn, for such is the name Uncle Anthony -says you have given," was the reply. "We mistook our man, that is all, -and beg to tender our apologies for discourteous treatment. We think all -the better of you for drawing your sword. But put it up, man, we will -conduct you to Endellion. At the same time you must confess that it is -not oft that a gentleman dismounts and lets a wandering tale-teller sit -on his horse." - -"The old man was tired, and----" I did not finish the sentence, for I -had become cool again, and I knew I had a difficult game to play, if I -would get the better of these wild fellows. - -I could not see their faces, but I saw they were strong, well-built men. -They carried themselves well, too, and did not slouch along as country -squires often do. - -Presently I heard the roar of the sea, and soon after saw the dim -outline of a large castellated building. Here and there lights twinkled, -but altogether it was as gloomy a place as one could well conceive. - -"We give you a welcome at Endellion," said one of the Killigrews who had -not hitherto spoken. "We be a rough branch of the old family tree, but -the same blood flows through our veins." - -Some one gave a shrill whistle and a serving-man appeared. - -"Take this horse, and see that it is well curry-combed and foddered," -was the command. - -A minute later, I with the others entered the old house from which, if I -accomplished my purpose, I was to take the maid called Nancy Molesworth. -My blood tingled at the thought of wild adventure; all the same, as I -saw these sturdy men by my side, I very much doubted the outcome of the -business. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -MY FIRST NIGHT AT ENDELLION. - - -I had barely time to take note of the house on entering. In the dim -light I could just see the grim gray walls on the outside and the great -hall within. But nothing appeared to me with distinctness. The strident -voices of the Killigrews had the effect of making me keep my hand on the -hilt of my sword. I remember, too, that my heart beat faster than its -wont, while both my eyes and ears seemed preternaturally sharp. Nowhere -was a woman to be seen, and although I was no lover of women, -especially of those who belong to that class with which my people mated, -I felt that a house filled with rough men was no desirable residence for -a gentlewoman. - -Presently I was ushered into the dining-hall, a huge oak-paneled room. -At the head of the table sat an old man. He had long white hair and -beard, and beneath his rugged forehead, and overshadowed by bristling -eyebrows, gleamed a pair of piercing black eyes. He arose as I entered, -and I saw that he was well on towards seventy. "A warm welcome, Roger -Penryn," he said. "From what I hear my sons played a rough game at the -gates yonder. I am sorry for this. The truth is, they thought that the -Hanson varlets were playing them a trick. But enough of that. A man of -your stamp bears no ill-will because of a mistake." - -He kept his eyes on me all the time he spoke as if he would read my very -soul, and I winced at the thought that I appeared under an assumed name, -for I hate fighting an under-handed battle. At the same time I was sure -that had I appeared as a Trevanion, I should have been ill-received. - -"It is but little wonder in these rough times, that suspicion is -aroused," I said. "There are many rumours of treason afloat in my part -of the country. Indeed, Hugh Boscawen is reported to be raising an army -to put down a rebellion there at this time." - -He nodded his head, still eyeing me keenly. - -"Know you Hugh Boscawen?" he asked. - -"Not well," I replied, "but I have seen him." - -"And have thought of joining his ranks?" he asked. - -"Nay, a Penryn strikes not a blow for the House of Hanover, when the -real King of England is perhaps eating his heart away in France, -yonder." - -"Ah, say you so?" he cried eagerly. He seemed to be about to say more, -but checked himself. "We will not talk of these things now," he said; -"perchance when you have been here a few hours we can discuss such -matters. Besides, here come my sons. You are a strapping fellow, Roger -Penryn, but methinks my Benet is taller." - -A servant entered bearing a huge haunch of beef, another followed -bearing other things, and then all being ready we fell to right -heartily. - -Old Colman Killigrew talked pleasantly with me as we ate, and when the -meal was over he pressed wine upon me. But I had passed the age of -hot-blooded boyhood, and, knowing the work I had to do, drank -cautiously, for a man filled with wine has a loose tongue and an unwary -head. - -"Hath old Uncle Anthony supped?" asked Colman Killigrew presently. "Let -him come in when he is ready." - -I was glad to have the old man say this, for I was becoming weary of the -talk of the young Killigrews. They drank freely, and grew heedless as to -the language they used. For, careless as I was in those days, I loved -not to hear men speak of maidens as though they were brute beasts. I -have also discovered that men, when they live away from the society of -women altogether, grow churlish. I had seen this in my own life, -although I had not fallen so low as these men of Endellion. - -One among these sons, however, was different from the rest. He was -neither tall nor handsome like his brothers. I discovered that he was -called Otho, after an ancient member of the race, and seemed to be -regarded as the wise-man of the family. He had more learning too than -the others, and spoke with more taste. He was not pleasant to look upon; -he had a short bull-neck, and there was a round upon his back which -almost approached a hump. I saw, however, that his hands were large and -his wrists thick. Moreover, his legs, while ill-shaped, were thickset -and evidently powerful. He did not drink freely like the others, nor did -he talk much, but he watched me closely. - -When Uncle Anthony entered, I noticed that he was regarded with great -respect. He had evidently visited the house often, and knew the ways of -the inmates. He had a seat of honour beside old Colman Killigrew too, -and they conversed together in low tones, while the sons plied me with -questions about my life in the South. - -Presently a number of the serving people came in, and with them three -women-folk. They were ill-favoured, however, not like the kitchen maiden -I had kept at Trevanion. Two out of the three were past mid-age, too, -while the third was a large-limbed wench, angular and awkward, but -evidently as strong as a man. So far, not a sign of Nancy Molesworth was -visible. - -"Now, Uncle Anthony, a song and a story!" cried Otho Killigrew. - -"Shall it be a little zong or a little stoary first, then?" asked Uncle -Anthony in broad Cornish. - -"A song first, then a story, and then a galloping song and dance to -finish up with," replied Otho. - -Uncle Anthony swept his eyes quickly around the room; then, standing up, -he, bowed towards Colman Killigrew. - -"I drink the 'ealth of the 'ouse," he said, bending towards the owner of -Endellion. "The Killigrews 'ave been called 'A grove ov aigels' -(eagles); they 'ave flied 'igh; they 'ave stood avore kings, they 'ave. -Ther've bin wisht times laately, but a better day es comin'. The raace -'ave allays bin great fer lovin' and drinkin' and fightin', and their -sun es risin' again. I can zee et." - -"May it come quickly!" cried Benet, a giant of a fellow. "There are no -women to love around here--they are afraid of us; but drinking is always -good; as for fighting, I long for the clash of steel." - -All the brothers echoed this, save Otho; he looked steadily into the -huge fireplace, and spoke not. From that moment I felt sure that he was -the one selected to wed Nancy Molesworth. - -Uncle Anthony touched his harp-strings and began to sing a plaintive -song. I had heard it often before; but he sung with more feeling than -did the drolls who had visited Trevanion. It was moreover peculiar to -Cornwall, and, interspersed as it was by Uncle Anthony's explanations, -caused even the hard-featured serving-women of Endellion to wipe their -eyes. I will write it down here, for the song is being forgotten, while -the fashion of receiving wandering story-tellers is fast dying out. This -is how he sung it: - - - "Cowld blaws the wind to-day, sweet'art, - Cowld be the draps ov raain; - The fust trew-luv that ever I 'ad, - In the greenwud 'ee wos slain. - - "'Twas daown in the gaarden-green, sweet'art, - Where you and I did waalk; - The purtiest vlower that in the gaarden growed - Es rinkled (withered) to a staalk. - - "The staalk will graw no laives, sweet'art, - The vlowers will ne'er return: - And now my oan love es dead and gone, - Wot can I do but mourn?" - - -"The pore maid did zing this," explained Uncle Anthony. "She was in a -wisht way, for maidens be vit fer nothin' 'cipt they've got a man by -'em. The man es the tree, an' the maid es an ivy-laif, and tha's oal -'bout it. But you do knaw, my deears, that when a man 'ave bin dead one -year, 'ee do allays cum back. Tha's religion, ed'n et then? Zo-- - - - "A twelvemonth an' a day bein' gone, - The sperrit rised and spok: - - "'My body es clay cowld, sweet'art, - My breath smells 'evvy an' strong; - And ef you kiss my cowld white lips, - Your time will not be long.' - - -"Ah, but thicky maid wos a true maid. She cudden rest till she 'ad -kissed the booy she loved; and w'en she'd kissed 'im once, she loved him -more and more. Zo she cried: - - - "Oa, wawn mooar kiss from yer dear cowld lips, - One kiss is oal I craave; - Oa, wawn mooar kiss from yer dear cowld lips, - An' return back to yer graave." - - -After this, Uncle Anthony sung in a low, wailing tone a stormy kind of -duet between the maid and what he called her "booy's sperrit," who tried -to make her accompany him to the world of shadows, and after much -weeping, she departed with her lover. - -"And zo et es, my deears," remarked Uncle Anthony, "that trew luv is -stronger'n death." - -"That's a wisht zong, sure enough, Uncle Anthony," remarked one of the -women, who at such times were allowed especial liberty. "Strick up -summin' purty and sweet and lively." Whereupon he sung a song about a -sailor who courted a rich nobleman's daughter "worth five hundred -thousan' in gould." This pleased them much, after which he started to -tell a story. At first he did not interest me, for my mind was filled -with many things; but presently I saw that his tale was original. He -brought in our meeting in the Molesworth Arms at Wadebridge, and -insinuated many surmises concerning me. He took a long time to tell the -story, for he weaved in a love episode, a duel, the appearance of a -ghost and a wizard, besides many droll sayings peculiar to the county; -but through it all I could see that he aimed at me, and gave hints that -he suspected I had other motives in coming to Endellion than those which -I had revealed. He described me as an unknown cavalier who wore a mask; -he also spoke of a wise man whose eyes pierced the mask. It is true he -dated the story in the far back past; all the same, I could not help -seeing his meaning. I doubt whether any of the listeners other than -myself saw his drift--but I felt sure that he had suspicions concerning -me. Whether his feelings were friendly or no, I could not gather; -neither could I understand his motive in so turning the story. The tale -was well liked, however, for the old man weaved it well. He ended it by -telling us that the maid wedded the man she loved, and that when she was -on her way to church, she trod on flowers strewn by angel hands, while -angel voices sung songs of hope and gladness to her. - -"And what became of the masked cavalier?" asked Otho Killigrew when he -had finished. - -"I'll tell 'ee that next time I come this way," replied Uncle Anthony. -"That's a paart of another stoary." - -"And the wise man?" I asked,--"what became of him?" - -"The wise man, Maaster Roger Penryn--for tha's the naame you towld me to -call 'ee--es livin' still. A trewly wise man don' never die. 'Ee do live -top 'igh plaaces, my deear. A wise man do mount a 'igh rock, and rest in -paice. Around 'im es the wild, treacherous waaste, but up there 'ee's -saafe. 'Appy be they who in trouble seek the shelter of the wise man's -'igh plaace. 'Tes the shadda of a great rock in a weary land." - -I pondered much about the old man's tale, and made up my mind that, if I -could, I would speak with him alone. I decided that he was not what he -seemed; but how I could converse with him again was not easy to -discover, for he expressed a desire to retire, and Otho Killigrew -continued to watch me closely. - -Before I was in any way able to decide what to do, I knew by the baying -of the hounds outside and the sounds at the door that some visitor was -approaching. At a look from Colman Killigrew, all the serving-people -left the room. Uncle Anthony also went out with them, saying that he -would retire to rest. - -The newcomer turned out to be one John Polperro, a fair-spoken young -fellow of about five-and-twenty. I saw at a glance that he was a -gentleman, although of no great force of character. He was dressed in -accordance with the latest foppery of the times, and was, I thought, -mighty careful about his attire. His face was somewhat weak, but there -was no vice, no meanness in it. I presently discovered, too, that on -occasion he could speak boldly. - -Colman Killigrew's welcome was by no means warm, while each of the sons -looked at him distrustfully, almost savagely. But he did not seem to -heed their evident dislike. - -"I would like a word with you alone," he said to the squire. - -"I am alone," was the reply. "I have no secrets from my sons." - -"But there is a stranger among you," retorted Polperro. - -"He is a friend who honours us by staying with us. He is of the same -religion and hath the same interests." - -I winced at this, and rose to leave, but Colman Killigrew, by a gesture, -bid me remain. - -"But this is not an affair for the ears of all," retorted Polperro. - -"I have no affairs with you that may not be discussed by all here," was -the cool response. - -I wondered at this, for I could not fathom the old man's design. Perhaps -he thought that by treating me as one of his family, even though I was a -stranger, he would cause me to be more obedient to his wishes in the -future. I listened eagerly, however, for I remembered why I was there. - -"Be it so, then," replied Polperro with a touch of anger in his voice. -"You know, then, that I have met Mistress Nancy Molesworth?" - -The old man nodded. - -"I love her." - -Colman Killigrew betrayed no emotion whatever, but the sons made a -movement expressive of scorn and derision. - -Polperro saw this, and the colour began to mount to his cheeks. I could -see, too, that he had difficulty in refraining from angry words; but he -mastered himself. - -"I have reason to believe that my sentiments are not unrequited." - -Still Colman Killigrew was silent. - -"You know that a messenger was sent to you. He bore a letter containing -an offer of marriage. This you received and read." - -The old man nodded. - -"This you received and read," repeated John Polperro, "but I cannot -think you fairly understood the purport of the letter, otherwise you -would have sent back a different answer." - -"The answer was plain." - -"But curt and uncivil. It was not such an answer as one gentleman may -send to another." - -"I said that eagles mate not with hawks." - -"That is why I cannot think you understood. My family is at least as old -as your own." - -"On the father's side, perchance--but on the mother's?--Bah! we will not -speak of it." - -Young John Polperro's hand played nervously with the hilt of his sword; -but still he kept his temper under control. - -"I am come with my father's consent and approval," he continued; "I am -come in person to offer my name and fortune--a name as good as your own, -a fortune more than equal to that of the Killigrews." - -"I give you the same answer that I gave to your messenger," was the -response. - -John Polperro still kept outwardly cool. - -"Then I have another proposition to make," he continued, but this time -his voice took a loftier tone. "I am here to offer Mistress Nancy -Molesworth the protection of my father's house. I am here to offer her -safety and honour!" - -The old man started to his feet. He had been pricked on the quick at -last. "What mean you, sir?" he cried. - -"It is well known that ever since she came from the convent, she has -been afraid to live here!" cried Polperro. "That your sons pay her -attention which she hates; that she loathes the thought of living where -modesty, virtue, and honour are all outraged!" - -I think he was sorry he had uttered these words as soon as they had -passed his lips. - -All the Killigrews looked as though they would have liked to have struck -him dead. On my part, however, I had a feeling of admiration. Courage is -always good, even although it be shown at the wrong time. Nothing was -said or done, however. They remembered that the man stood in their own -house. - -"The maid has had but one occasion to speak of her woes to any one," -continued Polperro. "You allowed her to visit Mistress Arundell, where -she met with a friend she had known at the convent school. There, as you -know, it was my good fortune to meet her." - -I felt he was a fool. Why could he not have spoken more guardedly? If he -wanted to do Mistress Nancy an injury, he could not have accomplished -his purpose better. I saw, too, that old Colman Killigrew ground his -teeth with rage, and I heard him mutter something about his being mad to -let the girl go a-gadding about at people's houses. For a moment I -thought he would have answered Polperro angrily; but such was not his -plan. - -"You stand in my own hall, or it might go hard with you," he said -presently. "But enough. You spoke in hot blood, just as a lovesick fool -may. Let me also say this, although you deserve not this explanation: -Mistress Nancy Molesworth is betrothed to my eldest son Otho according -to her father's wish. Therefore her honour is safe, and she will be -wedded to one of her own degree." - -"Is this by her own will?" cried Polperro. - -"A maid's will is like the wind in April," replied the old man, "and is -no more to be relied on. But I tell you this, she shall be guarded -safely." - -"Kept in prison!" retorted Polperro; "and these," looking with scorn on -the young men, "will be her gaolers." - -He turned to leave the room, but did not flinch at the angry looks -bestowed upon him. Benet Killigrew turned to follow him, but he was -stopped by his father's word. - -"He stands in my own hall, Benet, and must be treated as a guest," he -said. "The time may come when the laws of courtesy may not hinder you -from giving him the chastisement he deserves." - -"That time cannot come too soon for me!" cried John Polperro. -"Meanwhile, do not think Mistress Nancy Molesworth is without friends. -And besides that, it might be profitable for you to remember----" he -did not finish the sentence. Perchance he felt that silence were wise. - -"I did not think you would witness such a scene, Roger Penryn," said the -old man when he had gone, "for in truth I did not believe the lad had so -much spirit." - -"He spoke stoutly," I responded, not daring to ask the questions which -hung on my lips. "He sadly lacked wisdom, however, and will land himself -in trouble if he be not careful." - -"I had many things to say to you to-night," remarked old Colman -Killigrew, "but they must stand over. I am not as young as I was, and -young Polperro's words have ill prepared me to speak on matters which -lie near my heart, and I trust to yours also. But the opportunity will -come to-morrow." - -I bent my head gravely. I was glad he had put off his questionings, for, -truth to tell, I dreaded the man. I instinctively felt his eyes probing -me. I knew he had been making plans all through the evening to find out -who I was, and why I had come northward. - -"I will retire to rest," he said; "perchance you, too, will be glad to -get to your room?" - -"I will go with him," said Otho Killigrew; "it is easy for a stranger to -lose his way in this house." - -So I said good-night to his brothers, who pressed me to stay among them -and drink another bottle of wine, and walked up a broad stairway with -Otho by my side. - -On reaching the top of the stairway I saw a man walking to and fro; but -he seemed to pay no heed to us as we passed by him. - -"You will stay a day or two with us, I trust?" remarked Otho. - -I answered in the affirmative. - -"And then?--go you farther north?" - -"That will depend on what your father thinks," I responded. - -He gave me a searching glance, but spoke no word more until we reached -my bedroom door. - -"I am afraid you have had a rough welcome," he said; "but we have the -name for a rough people. All the same, we are faithful to our friends." - -"Yes," I assented. - -"The Killigrews never yet turned their backs upon those who merited -their friendship," concluded Otho; "but they never forgive those who -betray their trust. Never!" - -He uttered the words slowly and distinctly, as was his manner of speech. - -"Sleep soundly, Roger Penryn," he said as he bade me good-night. "The -Tower of London is not more safely guarded than Endellion." - -"It is good of you to tell me," I replied; "but a good sword and a ready -hand are all I have needed in the past." - -To this he did not reply, and I heard his steps echo along the corridor. -He walked slowly, like a man deep in thought. Did he suspect anything, -or did my mission make me suspicious? - -The room into which I was ushered was plain and bare. The walls were -whitewashed, the floor almost wholly uncovered. I sat for a long while -on the bed in deep thought, and my musings were not pleasant. I almost -regretted having undertaken to do Peter Trevisa's bidding. Not because -of the danger. Nay, that was almost the only redeeming feature in the -business. And yet I tried to persuade myself that my mission was good. -Were not these Killigrews lawless men? Should I not be rendering signal -service to the maid Nancy Molesworth by taking her away from a place -which, according to Polperro, she loathed? And still I was not -satisfied. - -Presently I thought I heard a rustling outside. Instantly I went to the -door and opened it softly. The corridor was but dimly lighted, but I saw -the retreating form of a woman. She did not look a well-bred dame; at -the same time she was different from the serving-women I had seen in the -hall. I started to follow her; but before I had taken two steps, she -turned, and I saw her face. Dim as was the light, her features seemed -familiar. Evidently she was a superior kind of serving-maid. In a -moment, however, she vanished. - -"Ah," I thought, "there is some stairway yonder!" I looked cautiously -around before starting to seek it, then stopped. I heard the clank of -steel. I saw the man I had passed with Otho Killigrew, still pacing the -corridor. - -"A sentinel, eh?" I mused; "truly, the place is guarded." - -Noiselessly I slid back to my room. The man had not seen me. My -stockinged foot touched a piece of paper, which was carefully folded. - -Close to my bed the candles flickered in the socket; so, after -carefully bolting my door, I made my way towards them. On unfolding the -paper I saw one word only. The word was - -ROCHE. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE USES OF A SERVING-MAID. - - -A few minutes later I was in total darkness. But I did not sleep. My -mind was much occupied by what I had seen and heard. I tried to -understand the purport thereof, as seemed necessary at such a time. -Several facts were plain. Foremost in point of interest was that the -maid Mistress Nancy Molesworth was in the house. I fell to thinking -about her, and wondered much as to what she was like. From what I -gathered, too, she was not indisposed to receive the attention of John -Polperro, who had that night asked for her hand in marriage. But that -did not trouble me. What should I care whom she married? It was for me -to take her to Treviscoe, and thus be freed from my difficulties. The -maid's love was nothing to me. That was doubtless as changeable as the -wind. I remembered, too, that she was betrothed to Otho Killigrew. Then -there were three who wanted her. I laughed as I thought of it. I -imagined, however, that Restormel lands had far more to do with the -desire to get her than had her beauty or her goodness. The Killigrews, -however, for the present possessed her; but they did not reckon upon -me. She was well guarded, and perchance the sentinel in the corridor was -especially appointed as her watchman. The wench I had seen was perhaps -Mistress Nancy Molesworth's serving-woman. But what did that piece of -paper mean? What was the purport of the word written thereon? _Roche_--I -would bear it in mind. When morning came I would again examine the -thing. Perhaps it would reveal more to me in the light of day. - -By and by I fell asleep without having formed any plan of action. But -when morning came, my mind was clear and my hand steady. - -The window of my room faced the open country. Beneath me was a -courtyard, perhaps twenty feet down. There were also rooms above--how -high, I could not tell. As I opened the window the clear spring air -entered the room, likewise the sound of the sea. I discovered afterwards -that, like several others on this northern coast, the house was built -close to the cliff; but I could see nothing of it at the time. The sound -of the waves was pleasant to me, however, as was the smell of the -morning air, and I felt like singing for the very joy of youth, and -health, and strength. On remembering my mission, however, I became more -thoughtful; and, hastily dressing myself, I found my way towards the -dining-hall. - -On walking along the corridor, no guard appeared. Evidently his work was -regarded as done; but all around me was the hum of voices. There were -doubtless eyes and ears around me of which I knew nothing. - -Otho Killigrew was coming in from the outside as I came into the -entrance hall. He greeted me cordially, although I thought his face -looked anxious. - -"You rise early, Roger Penryn," he said; "my brothers have not yet -appeared." - -"The morning air was so sweet that I wanted to drink it to the full," I -answered, moving towards the door. - -"I will go out with you," said Otho. "Endellion is a quaint old place. -Men build not houses so now." - -We stood outside, and I looked on the grim gray building. Young Peter -Trevisa had described it rightly. An old castle still stood. It was -mostly a ruin, but well preserved. The house in which I had slept had -been modeled somewhat on the lines of the place which had been reared in -the far back past. - -"It was built in the old feudal days," remarked Otho, nodding towards -the ruin. "The Killigrews are an ancient race." - -"But the Killigrews have not always lived here?" - -"The Rosecarricks have, and the Killigrews were mixed with them many -generations ago. Perhaps that is why the newer part of the house was -modeled on the old. I am glad the ruins stand so well. I have discovered -many a secret place. I love things old, too." - -"Old systems, you mean?" - -"Yes, I was not thinking of them then,--but do. I love the feudal -system. It is the only way a people can be knitted to a crown." - -"But the Killigrews are not all in love with the crown," I suggested -meaningly. - -"No; we are the only branch of the family who do not pay homage to the -new order of things. You are a Catholic, so I can speak freely. We long -for a Catholic king to reign. We keep up the feudal system somewhat, -too. Our tenants are bound to us; so much so, that we could raise many -men to help in a cause we espoused." - -I changed the subject, for I saw whither he was drifting. - -"The back of the house almost overhangs the cliffs," I said. - -"Yes; there be several of a similar nature--Rosecarrick, Trevose, -Polwhele, and others. It was thought necessary in the old times." - -He accompanied me around the building, talking in his careful measured -way all the time, while I examined, as well as I was able, the -particular features of the place. We had barely compassed the house when -a great clanging bell rang. - -On entering the dining-hall we found breakfast prepared; but old Colman -Killigrew did not appear. Benet Killigrew met me, and examined me as -though he were calculating my strength. I could have sworn that he would -have liked to have challenged me to wrestle. - -Presently Otho, who had left me, came back, telling me that his father -was too unwell to meet me at breakfast, but hoped to be well enough to -leave his bed-chamber when evening came; in the mean while, he could -trust his sons to assure me of his welcome. - -Why, I knew not, but I felt somewhat disturbed at this; but simply -expressing my sorrow at his ill health, we sat down to breakfast. What -happened during the day was of little moment, only when night came I -reflected that never for a minute had I been left alone. Either one or -other of the Killigrews had been with me. It might only be a happening, -or it might be they had received orders not to allow me out of their -sight. Moreover, only one thing of interest had been mentioned, and that -appeared of no consequence. It was simply that old Anthony, the droll, -had left early. I should have thought nothing of this, only I had made -sure that he wanted to speak to me, and had moreover determined to ask -him the meaning of the story he had told. - -Just before the evening meal I had a few minutes to myself, and was able -to reflect calmly on my position. If, as I suspected, the Killigrews had -determined to watch me, I must take bold steps at once in order to -accomplish my work. In this surmise I was right, as will appear -presently. But how to commence, was my difficulty. It was plain that -Mistress Nancy was closely watched; and as I had no thought as to what -part of the house she was kept, and as she knew naught of me, there -appeared no way by which I could speak to her. Besides, even if such -chance did occur, how could I approach her? To say the least, I was an -impostor, acting a lie in order to maintain my right to Trevanion. That -was the thought which galled me. For the rest, I cared nothing; but I -did wince at the thought of a Trevanion being afraid to tell his name. - -I had almost decided to leave the house at once, and then think of -another way to accomplish my work, when I heard the rustle of a woman's -dress outside the door. In a second I was in the corridor, and saw the -same serving-maid I had seen the previous night. I slipped back into my -chamber again immediately, for coming towards her I saw Otho Killigrew. - -"Your mistress, Amelia?" said Otho; "she is better disposed to-day, I -hope." - -"She's fine and wisht," replied the girl. "She do set and mope oall day -long. She've bin worse to-day." - -"Ah! Do you know why?" - -"She seed Maaster John Polperro go way laast night." - -Otho uttered a curse. - -"She's so loanly, she've nothing to do. She've no books to raid, nor -nothin'." - -"Tell her I'll go to Rosecarrick this night and bring some for her. I'll -take them to her." - -"She waan't see 'ee, Maaster Otho," replied the girl earnestly; "but -p'r'aps it would soffen 'er ef you wos to git 'er somethin' to raid. -And, Maaster Otho." - -"Yes, what is it?" - -"I wish you would laive me go ovver to Church Town to-night. I waant to -see Jennifer, my sister." - -"And what will your mistress do meanwhile?" - -"She doan't spaik to me when I'm weth 'er, sur. Besides, I waan't be -long." - -"Very well," replied Otho, after hesitating a little. "When do you wish -to go?" - -"I might so well go after supper, sur." - -"See that your mistress wants nothing before you go." - -"Oall right, sur." - -Instantly I made up my mind that I would speak to Amelia that night. I -felt sure that the maid was sister to Jennifer Lanteglos, whom I had -seen the previous night. She was going to Endellion village after -supper, while Otho Killigrew was going to Rosecarrick to get some books -for Mistress Nancy Molesworth. I must frame some sort of reason for -absenting myself early from the supper-table. - -I do not think I should have accomplished this had not fortune favoured -me. Old Colman Killigrew sent word to say that he was not well enough to -sup with us, but would I come and speak with him after the meal was -over? My mind was made up. - -Otho was silent during supper, but the other brothers talked loudly. I -joined in their conversation, and made myself jovial. Presently Otho -left without a word of explanation to any one; and no sooner had he gone -than I told the brothers of their father's wish that I should visit him. -They laughed at me, saying I was but a child at drinking; but I had my -way. As chance would have it, no sooner had I reached the great door -than I saw Amelia walking along a passage towards a small doorway I had -seen through the day. A few seconds later, I stood outside the house, -while the girl walked a few yards ahead of me. She did not go along the -main road, but down a narrow pathway. When I thought we were a -sufficient distance from the house, I spoke to her. It was a risk to try -and talk with her, doubtless, but nothing could be done without risk. - -"Amelia--Amelia Lanteglos!" I said. - -She turned sharply. - -"No, Maaster Benet," she said, "you mustn't go wi' me. I shell screech -murder ef you do." I knew by her voice that she both feared and hated -Benet Killigrew. - -"I am not Benet," I said. "I am a friend." - -"You--you are the straanger?" she stammered. - -"Yes," I said; "yet not such a stranger as you think." - -In a few minutes I had won the girl's confidence. There are several ways -of making a serving-maid pliable. One is to appeal for her help, another -to make love to her, another to bribe her, another to flatter her. I did -the last. I told her I had heard what a faithful servant she was, how -much she was trusted in the house, and what a fine-looking maid she was. -This had to be done by degrees. - -"You have a very responsible position, Amelia," I said at length; "and -it is well for your mistress that you love her. She needs your love, -too. What she would do without you, I do not know." - -"No, nor I," said the girl. - -"Your mistress needs friends, Amelia." - -The maid began to cry bitterly. - -"I wouldn't stay in the plaace but for Mistress Nancy," she sobbed at -length. "I caan't tell 'ee oall, sur. There be two of 'em that do want -'er, but she do 'aate 'em oall." - -"And she loves young John Polperro," I said. "He's the one that ought to -marry her." - -"How do you know, sur?" - -"Never mind, I do know," I replied; "but say no word to any of them, or -it will be worse for your mistress." - -"I wouldn't say anything for worlds, sur." - -"Amelia," I continued, after much talk, "I am come here to help your -mistress." - -"To help her, sur,--'ow?" - -"I cannot tell you now. In fact, I can tell only her. Could you not -arrange that I could see her?" - -"See Mistress Nancy Molesworth, sur?" - -"Yes." - -"No, sur. She is always watched. She caan't laive her rooms without owld -maaster knowin'." - -"In what part of the house does she reside?" - -The maid told me. It was in the same wing as that in which my own -bed-chamber was situated, but the floor above. The door which opened to -it was also watched. - -"Are the watchers faithful?" I asked. - -"Sam Daddo and Tom Juliff, sur. They'll do nothin' but what the owld -maaster do tell 'em." - -"But why is she watched so closely?" - -"She've tried to git away once, sur. Tha's why." - -"Then she loves not the Killigrews?" - -"She haates 'em, sur. But I caan't tell 'ee oall." - -I tried to devise a means whereby I could see her, but none were -feasible. Force could not be used until flight was arranged, and that -was not done. Indeed, I had not seen the maid yet. - -"But," I said, "doth your mistress have no outdoor exercise." - -"She cannot go out except one of they Killigrews go weth 'er, and so she -doan't go at all. The last time she was out, Master Otho went wi' 'er. -She waan't go no more now." - -"But she will die cooped up in rooms where she hath no fresh air." - -"She sometimes walks on the leads at the top of the 'ouse; but that's -oall." - -"How does she get there?" - -"There's a stairs from the room." - -"Ah! But there must be other ways of getting to the roof." - -"I doan't knaw, I've only bin there a vew months. I wudden stay now but -for Mistress Nancy." - -"But I can trust you, Amelia?"--and then I satisfied myself that she -would be secret. "Tell her," I continued presently, "that if she values -her liberty or her honour, if she cares for John Polperro, to be on the -leads to-night at midnight. If I do not get there it will be because I -cannot." - -With that I left the girl, and hurried back to the house. I entered the -side door without notice, and then made up the broad stairway towards -the room in which I had been told old Colman Killigrew slept. - -"Will you tell your master that Master Roger Penryn waits to see him?" I -said to the man who paced the corridor. I gave my false name without -wincing this time, for my blood was tingling with excitement. The -thought of seeing Mistress Nancy Molesworth, together with wondering -what the outcome would be, made me eager for action. - -A few moments later I entered the old man's room, prepared to answer any -question he might put. He eyed me keenly as I entered, but spoke scarce -a word for several minutes. Little by little, however, he got to talking -about King George, and the feeling in the country concerning him. - -"You say Hugh Boscawen is busy raising an army?" he queried presently. -"Do volunteers come quickly?" - -"But tardily," I replied. "Cornish folks love not the thought of a -German wearing the crown and spending our money. Moreover, the Catholic -feeling is strong." - -"Say you so?" he queried, fixing his eyes on me. "What indications be -there?" - -"It is fully believed that Master John Wesley is a good Catholic and -that he is labouring in the interest of the Catholic Church, having -authority from the Pope; and everywhere he is gaining followers, -everywhere people be forsaking the parish churches." - -He nodded his head gravely. - -"It is rumoured that young Charles is planning to get to England even -now," I continued. "If he but leads an army, the people will, if they -have encouragement and a leader, flock to his standard." - -"What steps have you taken in the neighbourhood of Falmouth?" he asked. - -"I have simply spoken with the people. I am but poor. I am the only -representative of a small branch of my family. What the cause needs is -an old and well-known name. We want a man who can place himself at the -head of five hundred good swords--one who can gain the confidence of the -country." - -"Can you name the man?" he asked, keeping his eyes on me. - -"Colman Killigrew," I replied boldly. - -"Is my name known so far away from here?" - -"Else why should I come here?" was my response. - -After this he asked me many questions about the Penryns, which I -answered readily, for I knew them intimately. - -"You heard of me; and hearing that young Charles was coming to claim his -own, you thought----" - -"That the hope of the country lay in you." - -"What force could you raise in your part of the country, if the need for -men should arise?" - -I answered him vaguely. - -"It is well you came, Roger Penryn," he said, after he had asked me many -questions. "The rumour you have heard concerning young Charles is true. -He will land in Scotland; and there is no doubt that the Highlanders -will flock to his standard. He will then march southwards, and there is -but little doubt but he will have a great following. There will be much -opposition too, for many people comprehend not the glories of the -Catholic faith. He will need every good sword he can command; hence the -need for the faithful to be ready." - -I nodded my head, but spoke not, for I was already tired of playing my -part. - -"We will work quietly," continued old Colman Killigrew. "While Hugh -Boscawen is publicly gathering his men, you and others will have to work -in the dark. But no time must be lost. Now that we understand each -other, you must begin at once to gather the defenders of the faith and -be ready for action. Not that we would be discourteous," he added -quickly; "you must stay with me at least another day." - -"It is well," I replied; "you are well situated here. This should be a -stronghold in time of trouble." - -After this I asked him many questions about the castle, and what secret -rooms there were. I asked him, too, the means by which the roof could be -reached in order to make use of the battlements; but concerning this he -would tell me nothing. Indeed, as I afterwards reflected, he had told me -little but what was common rumour. - -I did not join the younger Killigrews that night. I wanted to be alone -to think, and to devise means whereby I could reach the roof at -midnight, and so talk with Mistress Nancy Molesworth. I therefore got -back to my bed-chamber with all speed, and spent some time in musing -quietly. - -I examined the situation of the chamber with much care. Underneath me, -as I have said, was a courtyard, but to the left were the ruined walls -of the old castle. If I could reach them I might find means of climbing -to the top of the newer portion of the house; but it seemed impossible. -I knew that a sentinel guarded the passage, otherwise I would have made -my way up the stairway I had seen. I silently opened the door and -examined the corridor in the hope that I should see some other means of -carrying out my wishes; but the man was wide awake and watchful. All was -now quiet. Evidently the family had gone to bed. I thought once of -creeping along by the wall, and disabling the man called Sam Daddo who -stood there. But that must necessarily mean noise; besides, the time was -not ripe for such an action. I could not take away the maid Nancy -Molesworth that night, and the man's disablement must lead to many -questions on the morrow. - -So I crept back into my chamber again. My candle had gone out, but the -moon shone almost as bright as day. The window of my room was not large, -but I could at a pinch have squeezed my body through. It was divided -into two parts, the division being made by a granite upright. - -"This is a big chamber," I mused; "surely there should be another -window." Then I remembered that I had examined every crevice of the -place with the exception of the walls behind the big bed on which I had -slept. The window faced the east, but the head of the bed was against -the northern wall. I tried to peer behind it, but could see nothing. -Then making as little noise as possible, I lifted the thing away. Having -done this, I saw an aperture which looked as though it might have been -intended for a second window. - -"This is well," I thought, pleased at my discovery. "Mistress Nancy -Molesworth, I think I shall see you to-night." - -For by this time the spirit of adventure fairly possessed me, and, -forgetting everything save my purpose to see the maid, I pulled away the -boards which had covered the opening. This done, the light shone in, and -I soon found that, although the hinges were sadly rusted, they yielded -to pressure. A few seconds later my hair was fanned by the breezes -outside, and my eyes were eagerly measuring the distance between me and -the walls of the old castle upon which I looked. - -"It can be easily done," I thought, and without hesitation I put my feet -through the opening; and then, placing my arm around the granite -upright, I managed to get the whole of my body outside. - -A moment later I stood on the ivy-grown walls of the old castle. - -My heart gave a leap, for I heard the sound of a deep-toned bell. Was my -action discovered? I soon reassured myself. It was only the clock -striking twelve. I looked around me for means of ascent, and then I felt -I had undertaken a fool's task. Would the maid come on to the roof at -the bidding of a stranger? Would she listen to me, even if she did -come? But it was not for me to think of that. I had promised to be -there, and I would go--if I could. - -I carefully crept along the ivy-grown walls, eagerly looking for a means -of ascent, for I knew that if I were to see the maid I must act quickly. -Even now it was past the hour I had promised to meet her. The night was -very bright, but I could see nothing to aid me, and I began to upbraid -myself as a childish fool for promising what I could not fulfil, when I -spied an iron pipe fastened to the wall. The battlements were perhaps -twelve feet above me, and this pipe was by no means easy to reach. I -would get hold of the thing, and by means thereof would climb to the -roof. - -No sooner had the plan entered my mind than I prepared to execute it. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -ON THE ROOF OF ENDELLION CASTLE. - - -As I have said, the task I had set myself was not an easy one. First of -all, I should have to leap several feet to a ledge, which was by no -means wide, and then I should have to grasp the pipe, as well as some -ivy which had climbed up by its side. If I failed to reach the ledge I -should fall, I knew not how far; or if the pipe yielded to my weight, -the same thing would happen. But I did not hesitate. My blood was hot, -and the spirit of adventure overmastered me. Besides--and I must -confess it if I will tell my story truly--in spite of my hatred of -women, I felt a great desire to see the maid I had promised to take to -Treviscoe. I recked not of consequences--nay, I had a sort of pleasure -in dangerous deeds. - -So I made the leap without hesitation, although a curious feeling -possessed me as I thought of the yawning darkness underneath me. I -reached the ledge in safety, and the thing I grasped held firm. Then, -without waiting a second, I started to climb. It was weary work, for the -ivy yielded, and the crevices wherein I could stick my feet were few. -But I had often attempted this kind of thing as a boy, and before long I -placed my arm round one of the huge merlons which the ancient Killigrews -had caused to be placed there; and in a few seconds I lifted myself up -so that my head was raised some distance above the stonework. I had -scarcely done this when I heard a slight scream, which came so suddenly -that I was in danger of relaxing my hold. Instinctively divining what -this meant, however, I made a low sound suggesting silence, and before -long stood on the roof. - -It had been a hard climb, and I panted freely, looking round meanwhile -for the one who had screamed. At first I could see nothing but chimneys; -but presently I saw two dark forms hiding by a portion of the roof which -stood somewhat higher than the rest. I walked slowly towards them. - -Even now I am conscious of a strange feeling at heart as I remember -that night. For there in the bright moonlight appeared a spectacle which -was almost awesome. The sight of the sea and the rock-bound coast burst -suddenly upon me. Below, hundreds of feet down, the waves cast -themselves on the beach, which was studded with huge masses of rock. The -sea shone in the light of the moon, and behind the crest of every wave -was a great streak of silver lustre, fair to behold. Far out, I could -see the waves a-dancing, while here and there the lights of distant -vessels shone. Away to the right, Tintagell, perchance the mightiest -coast-rock in England, lifted its hoary head, while to the left the -bare, rugged cliffs, in spite of the soft moonbeams, looked chill and -drear. - -And I was there--behind the battlements of the home of the -Killigrews--alone save for the presence of two helpless women. All this -came to me quickly--I seemed to realize it in a moment; and then I shook -the feeling from me, for I remembered I had work to do. - -"'Tis he," I heard a voice say, which I recognized as that of Amelia -Lanteglos. And then I saw the other maid, whose face was partly hidden, -turn towards me. - -"Be not afraid," I said as gently as I could; for though I would have -little to do with them, I loved not to frighten women. - -"What would you, sir?" said a voice, low and sweet. "Amelia, my -serving-maid, hath persuaded me to come here to-night. It is against my -better judgment I have come, but----" then she stopped as though she -knew not how to finish what she had begun to say. - -I cannot deny it, I felt something like pity for the maid. Her voice was -sad and plaintive. It suggested weariness, loneliness--and no man is -unmoved by such things. I felt ashamed, too. I had promised to take her -to Treviscoe, to be the wife of Peter Trevisa; for I had little doubt -but that if those two men once got her there, they would try to frame -arguments strong enough to make her yield to their wishes. But this was -only for a moment. I reflected that women were as little to be trusted -as April weather, and would veer around like a weathercock. I remembered -my own love affair, and called to mind the words the girl Boscawen had -said to me only a few days before she threw me over for Prideaux. - -"I would speak to you alone for a few minutes," I said, wiping the sweat -from my forehead. - -"Your hand is bleeding," she said kindly; "and--and how did you get -here?" - -"I climbed from the old castle wall." - -"But it is impossible--it could not be! No one could do it!" This she -said in low, broken whispers, but like one frightened. - -"But I am here," I replied grimly; "and there was no other way of -getting here from my chamber. One has to risk something if you are to be -saved from the Killigrews." - -"What do you know of the Killigrews?" she asked eagerly. - -She followed me a few steps out of ear-shot of the serving-maid, still -keeping her face hidden. - -"I know that you are to be the wife of Otho Killigrew, unless desperate -measures are taken," I replied. "I know, too, that Benet Killigrew -professes to love you." - -"How do you know?" - -"You are Mistress Nancy Molesworth, are you not?" - -"Yes, and you are Master Roger Penryn, so my maid tells me. But I do not -know you." - -She let the shawl with which she had wrapped her head fall, and for the -first time I saw her face. She was but little more than twenty years of -age, and in the moonlight looked younger. As far as I could judge, her -hair was of chestnut hue, and it flashed brightly even in the night -light. Her face appeared very pale, and her eyes shone as though she -were much excited; but she was a very beautiful maid. She was not of the -timid, shrinking kind which some men love, but stood up before me -bravely, for the which even then I was glad. Nor was she little, and -weak; rather she was taller than most women, and shaped with much -beauty. - -"It matters but little whether you know me or not, if you will trust -me," I said. "Believe me, I have come to take you away from this den of -cutthroats to a place of safety." - -"Where?" - -"Where would you go?" I asked. - -My head was bare, and my face was plainly to be seen, so bright was the -night. I felt her eyes fastened upon me, and it seemed to me as though -she were reading my innermost thoughts. But I was not to be baulked by -a girl, so I tried to appear unconcerned as she gazed. - -"You met John Polperro at the Arundells," I continued. "He has offered -his hand to you in marriage, but your guardian refused. Last night he -came here and repeated that offer, but it was declined. He is a fine -fellow, Polperro, and spoke boldly." - -"I know," said she--speaking, as I thought, more to herself than to me. - -"After your guardian had refused his request that you might become his -wife," I went on, "he offered you a home in his father's house. He spoke -hotly, indiscreetly, but still as an honest man; that offer was also -refused. Perchance you have been informed of this?" - -She did not speak, nor did she make any sign whatever. - -"It is impossible for Polperro to help you now. If he again appears in -the neighbourhood, he will receive steel for a welcome. But I admire -him. I am always proud to call such as he my friend; so if I can take -you to his father's house, I shall be doing a good deed, and rendering a -service to one he loves." - -This I said in a stammering kind of way, for somehow the girl's eyes -made me feel uncomfortable. I wished she would not look at me so -steadfastly. - -"Know you Master John Polperro?" she asked presently. - -"Else why should I be here?" I responded, wishing I had adopted some -other plan of action. I hated this underhanded method of work, and the -maid's eyes looked truthful. I should have felt far more at ease could I -have taken her away by force than have subjected myself to this kind of -work. Still, circumstances had made force of such kind impossible. Had -the maid been allowed her liberty, I might have accomplished my purpose -differently; but being a safely guarded prisoner, I had to gain her -confidence. - -"And you came here by his wish? You are trying to do what he found -impossible?" - -I bit my lip with vexation. Why should she ask such questions. Was I not -planning to take her away from a place where she was unhappy? - -"It was no easy thing to get from my bed-chamber here," I replied -evasively. "A single slip, and I should either have been killed or -crippled for life. Neither is it an easy thing to deal with these -Killigrews. But for my promise to the man, I tell you I would not have -attempted it." - -"Your promise to whom?" she asked, and I cursed myself for being a fool. -Why could I not have boldly told the necessary lies? I had intended to. -Chance had given me the finest possible opportunity. I found no -difficulty in trying to deceive old Colman Killigrew. Why, then, should -this chit of a maid make me stammer? What could be more easy than to -tell her that I, being a stranger to the Killigrews, and a friend of -John Polperro, had come here to take her to a place of honour and -safety? - -"To whom should my promise be given?" I said. "I spoke to your maid that -she might tell you of my desire to meet you. I have risked my life to -get here, and I have a difficult game to play with the Killigrews." - -I was angry beyond measure with myself for telling of any danger I had -encountered. Had I been acting a straightforward part, I should not have -mentioned it; but now I had a feeling that such words were necessary. - -"If you will consent to trust me," I went on clumsily, for I felt her -eyes upon me as I spoke, "I will arrange plans whereby I can take you -away. I could be ready by to-morrow night. It could be done without -detection. A rope could be fastened around yon battlements--it is only a -dozen feet or so to the old castle walls. From thence it is not -difficult of descent. I could get horses in readiness, and in a few -hours we could be out of danger." - -"And if you were discovered?" she asked abruptly. - -"Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to fight the Killigrews," I -replied grimly. - -I knew there was a gulf between us. She did not trust me. She doubted -every word I was saying. I wished the light were not so good, so that -she might not see my face so plainly. And yet I had her at advantage. -She loved not the Killigrews--she hated the thought of wedding Otho. -Probably I appeared as her only hope of escaping from them. I could see -the girl Amelia Lanteglos watching us closely. Doubtless she was -wondering as to the upshot of our conversation. - -"Do you think I gain any advantage by coming here?" I went on like a -fool. "I never saw you until this hour. I have no spite against the -Killigrews, they never harmed me. It would not harm me if you were to -marry Otho. Possibly he would make you as good a husband as--as another. -But I--I gave a promise that I would set you free, if I could. However, -if you prefer to fly to the open arms of Otho,--well----" I shrugged my -shoulders, and tried to hum a tune as I looked across the shining sea. - -I know I said this brutally; but the maid angered me--angered me by the -truthfulness of her looks, and the way she made me bungle the thoughts I -had in my mind. - -She continued to look at me steadfastly. Perhaps she remembered that if -she accepted my offer, and if I succeeded in effecting her escape, she -would have to travel alone with a man of whom she knew nothing. -Presently she seemed to have made up her mind. - -"You seem to be a gentleman," she said; "you speak as if you----" she -hesitated as though she could not put her thoughts into words. - -I remained silent. - -She made a sudden movement forward, and placed her hand on my arm. "I am -alone, helpless," she said. "I am surrounded by those I cannot trust. I -hate--loathe the thought of----" again she stopped suddenly; then, -looking straight into my face, she said: "Are you what you seem to be?" - -It came upon me like a clap of thunder, and, like a schoolboy -discovered in theft, I hung my head. - -"Is your name Roger Penryn?" she asked. - -"No!" - -"Do you know John Polperro?" - -"No!" - -The words came from me like shots from a musket. I could not tell a lie -with the girl's cruel, truthful eyes upon me. They choked the falsehood -in my throat, and I felt myself to be the sport of this maid who knew -nothing of the world. I was glad I had told the truth, and yet I -reproached myself for being beaten at the first definite move in the -game I was playing. Probably the whole thing had been rendered -impossible by my madness. Trevanion was gone from me forever; but, worse -than that, I should have to confess to Peter Trevisa that I had failed -to do the thing I had promised--that I had bungled most miserably. - -I turned to go away. I would speak no more with her. She had been too -much for me--she, a simple maid scarcely out of her teens. I had -scarcely taken a step, however, before she stopped me. - -"Then you are another tool of the Killigrews," she said. "There are not -enough of them, and they must needs hire you. Not being able to work -their will with me, even although I am a prisoner, they must needs use -some other base means to accomplish their purpose." This she said -passionately, yet with fine scorn. - -"There you are wrong, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said warmly, for she -had wounded me sorely. "I am not the tool of these people. Nay, my life -is in danger while I stay here. But enough of that. You refuse to accept -my help?" - -"How can I accept the help of a man who comes with a lie on his lips?" -she cried;--"who comes professing a false name, and who pretends to be -the friend of a man to whom he never spoke. How can I trust a man whose -every action and every word is a lie?" - -"Had I been a liar," I said, "I could have deceived you easily; but -enough. There is no need that I should weary you with my presence. Some -time perhaps----" - -"If your name is not Roger Penryn, what is it?" she said; "and why have -you tried to raise my hopes only to deceive me?" - -I opened my mouth to tell her my name, but I could not utter the word. I -could not tell her I was a Trevanion, nor relate to her my purpose in -coming hither. - -"It is not well I should speak to you further," I said. "But I have -wrought you no harm. Neither would I if you had trusted in me. Nay, as -God is my witness,"--and this I cried out passionately, for somehow the -maid dragged the words from me,--"I would have let no harm have happened -to you!" - -With this I walked to the spot where I had ascended, and prepared to -descend. - -"Stop!" she whispered. "It will be far more difficult to go down than it -was to come up." - -"What of that?" I replied grimly. - -"Because,"--and a blush mantled her cheek,--"there is another road -down. Look, yonder is the stairway." - -"There is a sentinel." - -"He is a lover of my maid," she replied. "She would lead him away a few -steps out of sight while you got to your own chamber." - -"But I should have to pass through your apartments." - -"Amelia shall show you the way. I will remain here." - -"No," I replied, for I was angry with her. "I will not be beholden to -you in any way." - -For the first time she looked at me kindly, but I took no heed. I placed -my arm around the merlon, and then, grasping the gutter, lowered myself. -I had often accomplished such feats, and this fact helped me now. In a -few minutes I had reached the ledge, and a little later stood on the old -castle walls again. Arrived there, I stopped and listened; but no sound -reached me. I looked up, and saw that the maid Nancy Molesworth had -followed my descent--saw that she was watching me now. There was an -expression of wonder, of bewilderment, on her face. Doubtless she was -seeking to divine who I was, and why I should come to her. I was sure -she wanted a friend, too. But I knew not what to say--I had forfeited my -right to help her. I suppose I was foolish at the moment, however. Most -men are at times. - -"Good-night, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said. "Remember that I am -your friend. Perhaps some day I may be able to show it." Then I -squeezed myself into my bed-chamber, feeling ill pleased with myself. - -I pulled off my clothes, and got to bed; but I could not sleep. Two -conflicting forces were at war within me. One moment I reproached myself -as a fool for not being able to deceive a slip of a maid without -stammering. The next I found myself pitying her, and calling myself a -traitor to my name for not seeking to rescue her from the Killigrews. -Sometimes I cursed myself for being as easily moved as a boy of -twenty-one, not able to withstand the simple questions of a -convent-school girl; and again I reproached myself for yielding to Peter -Trevisa's wishes, and undertaking a work unfit for a man of honour. - -Presently a more serious matter presented itself to me. Should I abandon -Peter Trevisa's commission? The maid had practically rejected my offer. -Should I go back to Treviscoe and tell him that I had failed? Should I -forever carry around with me the memory of the fact that I had made a -promise to do a thing, and then at the first difficulty I had given it -up like a puling girl? I had taken his money, I had given my word that I -would do his work;--could I give it up? Even although Trevanion did not -lie at the end of the business, it were unfair and cowardly to fail in -my undertaking thus. Well, supposing I decided to make a second attempt; -suppose I decided to devise new means to take the maid away--there were -many obstacles in my road. Old Colman Killigrew expected me to depart -the next day. I had promised to take his messages to some Catholic -families in the south of the country, and I should have no excuse for -staying at Endellion. Once outside the house, my power to do anything -would be gone. - -"Let it be so," I said to myself angrily. "I will leave the whole -business in the lurch. Let old Peter do his work as best he may, and let -the maid Nancy Molesworth fight her own battles with these Killigrews. -To-morrow I will start for London, and there I will seek for work more -congenial to me. If this Charles comes to England, King George will need -good swords." But even as these thoughts passed through my mind, I was -not satisfied with them. I felt I should be playing a coward's part, and -was seeking some other way whereby to better satisfy myself, when I -heard a low knocking at the door. I did not speak, and the rapping -became louder. - -"Who is there?" I asked, like one awaked out of sleep. - -"Otho Killigrew," said a voice. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -OTHO DISCOVERS MY NAME. - - -"He hath discovered where I have been," was my first thought. "He hath -been told that I have conversed with the maid Nancy Molesworth." And I -began to think how I should answer him. - -I got out of bed, however; and after hastily pulling on my -small-clothes, I went to the door. - -"What want you?" I asked sleepily. "Surely this is a queer time of -night to wake one out of sleep." - -"Let me in, and I will tell you," he replied. - -"It will be useless to resist," I thought, "for Otho is master here, and -I shall only arouse useless suspicion by refusing." Besides, I was -curious to know why he was desirous of seeing me; so without more ado I -opened the door. No sooner had I done so, however, than in walked not -only Otho, but Benet. - -For a time Otho looked at me awkwardly, like one not knowing what to -say. But Benet closed the door, and stood with his back against it, -holding a candle in his hand. - -"Hath Charles landed?" I asked, watching them closely. - -"No," replied Otho. - -"But something of importance hath taken place," I said; "else why this -midnight visit?" - -"Yes, important events have happened." He spoke curtly, like one angry. - -"And it hath to do with me, I suppose?" - -"Yes." - -"What then?" - -He looked at me keenly for a minute. Then he answered me slowly, -according to his usual manner of speech. - -"Charles hath not landed," he said. "All the same, important events have -happened with which you have to do." - -"And they?" I asked, noticing the grin that overspread Benet Killigrew's -face. - -"Are two in number." - -"Name them," I said eagerly. - -"First, that your name is not Roger Penryn." - -"Yes; what next?" - -He seemed surprised that I should make so little ado at his discovery, -and stared at me as though waiting for me to say some foolish thing. -Whereas the truth was, that I was relieved that the truth was to come to -light. I fretted like a horse frets when a saddle rubs him, every time I -heard the name of Penryn. - -"What next?" I repeated. - -"That you are a sneak." - -"Steady, steady, Otho Killigrew!" I said, for the word had not a -pleasant sound. "But we will deal with these two charges. What are your -proofs?" - -"There are proofs enough," replied Otho--"proofs enough. One is, that I -suspected you as you sat at my father's table last night." - -"I thought you were of the ferret breed," I replied; "it is a pity your -eyes are not pink." - -He kept his temper well. "Believing you were not what you pretended to -be, I sent a man to the place you said you came from," he went on. "He -hath returned this very night." - -"Well thought of," I laughed. "And you made discoveries?" - -"My man discovered that there was no Roger Penryn." - -I almost felt a pleasure in the business now. I had no qualms when -talking with men. All the same, I knew that I was in dangerous hands. -These Killigrews were no fools. - -"It seems I must have created a new member of the family," I said -pleasantly. "Well, go on." - -"No, there is no Roger Penryn; but there is a Roger Trevanion." - -"Ah!" - -"Yes, a fellow with a bad reputation." - -"Nothing like your own, I hope?" I said sneeringly, for I was ill -pleased at his discovery. - -"A fellow who hath wasted his patrimony." - -"He never betrayed women, I hope?" I responded. - -"This fellow left his home on a chestnut horse, the servants not knowing -whither he went. My man discovered, however, that he stayed at St. -Columb and Wadebridge. From thence he came here." - -"Ah, your man hath a good nose for scenting." - -"Yes, he traced you here, Roger Trevanion." - -"Well, Trevanion is a better name than Penryn--far better than -Killigrew." - -"It's a bad name for a sneak, a liar." - -"Have a care, Otho Killigrew!" I said. "You've mentioned that word twice -now." - -"Yes, I have," he said slowly. "I may mention it again. What then?" - -"Only that I shall make you swallow it." - -At this Benet grinned again. "Good!" he said aloud. "I like that!" - -"I shall say it again, and shall not swallow it." - -"You are two to one," I replied, "and you have your lackey outside; but -if I hear it again, there will be a new version of the story about the -first-born slain." - -He looked at his brother, and then spoke with less assurance. - -"I will prove it," he said slowly. - -"That is a different matter," I replied. "Go on." - -"You have been on the roof of this house to-night." - -I made no movement or sound indicating surprise. I had been expecting -this. - -"Well, what then? Am I a prisoner here?" - -"Why were you there?" - -"Only to have a talk with your prisoner," I replied. "I was curious to -see the beauteous maid who hates you." - -I hit him hard there, and he lost his temper. - -"Look'ee, Roger Trevanion," speaking quickly and angrily for the first -time, "what is the meaning of this masquerade? The Trevanions are -Protestants. Why did you come here, pretending to be a Catholic? Why did -you climb to the roof? You are a woman-hater." - -"Only for a wager," I laughed. - -"Mark this!" he cried,--"there are dungeons here as well as -battlements." - -"So I have heard. And it would be just like a Killigrew to throw a guest -into one of them." - -"Guest!" he answered with a sneer. - -"Yes, guest," I replied. - -"You have forfeited your right to that name." - -"Prove it. Is it an uncommon thing for a man to travel under a name -other than his own?" - -"It is an uncommon thing for a guest to get out of his chamber window, -and climb to the roof of the house." - -"Not if a man is of a curious disposition," I laughed. - -So far we had been fencing, and neither had gained much advantage. But I -determined to bring matters to a close issue. - -"Look you, Otho Killigrew," I said, "you have come to my bedchamber two -hours past midnight. Why? You must have something in your mind other -than the things you have spoken about." - -"I have come to you in mercy." - -I shrugged my shoulders. - -"In mercy," he repeated. "It is true you have forfeited your right to be -considered as a guest. Nevertheless I remember that Trevanion is a good -name, and that I am a Killigrew." - -I waited for him to continue. - -"You had a purpose in coming here. What, I do not know. You have been -a--that is, you are not what you pretended to be. You have tried to win -my father's confidence, and discover his secrets." - -"I did not seek to know your father's secrets." - -"No, but you came as a Catholic. You came as one desirous of bringing a -Catholic king on the throne. My father welcomes such as his own -children. Otherwise you would not have been welcomed so warmly, nor -would you have been asked to remain while Polperro sought to degrade us -all. It is a weakness of my father to take to his heart all who belong -to old Catholic families, and to trust them blindly----" - -"I am waiting for your mercy," I said. - -"You have done two things while in this house," said Otho: "you have -pretended to side with my father in carrying out the great plan of his -life, and as a consequence obtained secrets from him; and you have -sought for, and obtained, an interview with my affianced wife. Either of -these actions would justify us in dealing with you in a summary fashion. -But we have decided on conditions to be merciful." - -"Explain." - -"I have discovered that you Trevanions never break a promise." - -"That must be strange to such as you." - -"If you will promise two things, we have decided to let you leave -Endellion in no worse condition than you entered it." - -"You are very merciful." - -"Seeing that you have abused our hospitality, it is." - -"Well, about your conditions?" - -"Our conditions are very easily complied with. The first is, that you -never breathe to any living soul anything which my father has divulged -in relation to the cause he loves." - -"That is the whole of the first?" - -"It is. You see I am trusting you as a Trevanion. I know that if you -make a promise you will keep it." - -"And the second?" - -"The second is different." And I saw that Otho Killigrew spoke not so -easily. He lost that calm self-possession which characterized him when -he spoke about the Catholic cause. The blood mounted to his cheek, and -his hand trembled. - -"Tell me why you climbed the roof of the house!" he cried. "Tell me what -happened there!" - -"I am waiting to hear the condition," was my answer. - -"Are you interested in Mistress Nancy Molesworth? Was that one of your -reasons for coming here?" he asked eagerly. "Is she anything to you? Did -you ever see her?" - -I saw that Otho Killigrew was scarcely master of himself as he spoke of -the maid I had seen that night. I remarked also that Benet had an ugly -look on his face as he listened. - -"I am still waiting to hear the second condition," I said, trying as -well as I could to see my way through the business, and decide what -steps to take. - -"It is this," cried Otho. "You promise not to interest yourself in any -way with Mistress Molesworth; that you never speak of her within one -month from this time; that you render no assistance in any way to those -who seek to baulk me in my purposes." - -The last sentence came out seemingly against his will. As luck would -have it, too, I turned my eyes in the direction of Benet at this time, -and noted the gleam in his eyes. - -"If I mistake not," I said to myself, "Benet loveth not Otho, and it -would take but little to make him lift his hand against his brother." - -"Why this second condition?" I said, more for the purpose of gaining -time than anything else. "What hath Mistress Nancy Molesworth to do with -me?" - -"How do you know her name is Nancy?" he asked savagely. - -"I heard John Polperro name it. But what hath she to do with me?" - -"I would not have given you this opportunity," he went on, without -heeding my question. "As soon as I knew you had climbed to the roof -where she walks, I determined that you should be kept in safety until -such time as--as----but it does not matter; Benet would not have it so. -He suggested that you should have a chance of escape." - -I saw that Benet looked eagerly at me as though he would speak, but by -an effort he restrained himself. - -"The maid is not in a convent school now," I said jibingly. "She is not -to be a nun, I suppose. And I have taken no vow that I will not speak to -a maid." - -"But you must not speak to her!" he cried, like one beside -himself,--"not to her." - -"Why, pray?" - -"Because," he cried, evidently forgetting the relation in which I stood -to him,--"because she is my betrothed wife! Because she belongs to -me--only! Because no one but myself must lay hands on her!" - -"If she be your betrothed wife, she should love you," I said. "And if -she loves you, perfect trust should exist between you." - -"But there be enemies! There be those who----" he hesitated, evidently -realizing that he had said more than he had intended. "Will you -promise?" he cried. - -"And if I do not?" I asked. - -"I told you there were dungeons here as well as battlements," he said. -"If you will not give your sacred promise, you shall lie there until it -is my pleasure to set you free!" - -"Tell me this, Otho Killigrew," I said, after thinking a moment. "You -say you are betrothed to this maid. Does she willingly become your -wife?" - -"That is naught to you!" - -In truth it was not; and for a moment I was in sore straits what to -promise. I had no interest in the maid. She had paid me but scant -courtesy that night, and why should I care whom she wedded? Moreover, if -I refused to promise I was sure that Otho would carry out his threat. -Even were I friendly disposed towards her and John Polperro, I could do -them no good by refusing to abide by Otho Killigrew's conditions. Then I -remembered the look of loathing on the maid's face as she spoke of the -Killigrews, and instinctively I felt that such a marriage would be worse -than death to her. I am anything but a sentimental man, neither do I -give way to foolish fancy; but at that moment I saw the maid pleading -with me not to promise. - -"No, I will not accept your last condition," I said. The words escaped -me almost without the consent of my own will, for I felt I dared not -sneak out of the house in such a way. After all, I was a Trevanion, and -came of an honourable race. My fathers had fought many battles for women -in the past. Perhaps some of their spirit came to me as I spoke. - -"You will not!" he cried like one amazed. - -"No!" I cried, "I will not. Look you, I have seen that maid this very -night. If you were a man such as a woman could love, if the maid did not -loathe you, I would not have given either of you a second thought. But -even although it may not be possible for me to lift a finger on her -behalf, I will not bind myself by a promise not to help her. Why, -man,"--and my anger got the better of me,--"it were sending a maid to -hell to make her the wife of such as you!" - -I heard Benet Killigrew laugh. "Good!" he cried; "the fellow's a man!" -But Otho was mad with rage. He gave an angry cry, and then leaped on me; -but I threw him from me. I looked around for my sword; but before I -could reach it, the two men I had seen acting as sentinels rushed into -the room, and I was overpowered. - -Still I made a fair fight. Twice did I throw the men from me, and I know -that they carried bruises for many a day. But one unarmed man against -three is weary work, and at length I was dragged from the room. One -thing I could not help noticing, however: Benet took no part in the -business. He simply held the candle and looked on, occasionally -uttering cries of joy when I seemed to be getting the best of the -battle. - -When I was left alone in a room at the basement of the castle, I at -first upbraided myself because of my foolishness. I had acted the part -of a madman. And yet, on reconsidering the matter, I did not see what I -could have done other than what I did. True, my prison walls might -hinder me, but my promise did not. It might be possible to escape in -spite of the bolts of a jailer--my people had done this often; but none -had ever tried to escape from their promises. Then I thought of my -promise to Peter Trevisa. Well, I knew not at the time I undertook his -work what I knew when I lay imprisoned, or I would not have made it. -Besides, I could pay the forfeit. The bargain was honourably made. If I -failed to bring the maid to him within a certain time, I had lost -Trevanion. My debt of honour would be paid. - -On reflection, therefore, though I was ill pleased at being confined in -that dark cell, I felt strangely light-hearted. I was no longer acting a -lie. I should no longer skulk under the name of Penryn. I did not -believe the Killigrews would murder me, neither would they starve me. I -was not a weakling, and I could look for means of escape. If I could -succeed in gaining my freedom, I vowed I would take away the maid Nancy -Molesworth, if for no other reason than to spite the Killigrews. - -Presently morning came, and I was able to see more plainly where I was, -and what my prison was like. The place was really a cellar, and but -little light found its way there. True, there was a window; but it was -very narrow, revealing a small aperture, the sides of which were -composed of strong masonry. Over the aperture was a heavy iron grating, -which grating was on a level with the courtyard. The window, too, was -securely guarded with heavy iron bars. The door was strongly made of -oak, and iron studded. The sight of these things made my heart heavy; -escape seemed impossible. - -The hours dragged heavily on, and I grew weary of waiting. But presently -I heard footsteps outside. The two knaves who had obeyed the bidding of -Otho Killigrew entered, one bearing food and the other my clothes. -Neither spoke, although the one I had known as Sam Daddo looked less -surly than the other. I remembered that he was a lover of Mistress Nancy -Molesworth's serving-maid, and tried to think how I could turn this fact -to account. They did not stay, but presently returned, bringing a small, -roughly made couch. - -"Evidently," I thought, "it is intended that I shall be kept a prisoner -for some time." - -After this I was left alone. It is needless to say that I tried to make -many plans of escape; but they all died at their birth, for each seemed -more futile than the other. I tried the strength of the window bars, and -found that they did not yield to pressure. I listened at the door in the -hope of hearing sounds whereby I might be able to more exactly locate my -prison. This also was in vain. - -At mid-day another meal was brought to me, but no word was spoken. - -Still I did not despair. True, I dared take no steps for escape through -the day, for footsteps were constantly crossing the courtyard outside. -But when night came I would try the window bars again. I noticed an iron -clamp on the couch which had been brought. Possibly I could use that as -an instrument whereby I could prise open the window. - -My spirits, I remember, kept wonderfully high, for I could not fully -realize that I was a prisoner. In truth, the whole matter seemed to me a -sort of dream out of which I should presently awake. For on analyzing my -thoughts, I saw no reason why I should be interested in Mistress Nancy -Molesworth. Indeed, I laughed at myself as a foolish dreamer for -refusing to promise not to render her any assistance should she wish to -escape Otho Killigrew. Perhaps my bargain with old Peter Trevisa and his -son had somewhat to do with it. The rest I put down to the foolish -impulse of the moment. For why should the memory of her face make me -grow angry with Otho? Were I a woman, I would rather be wedded to him -than to young Peter Trevisa. Concerning Benet's behaviour, I could come -to no definite conclusion, although I formed many conjectures. But I did -not trouble, for presently I fancied I saw a weakness in my prison, and -thought I saw a means of obtaining my freedom. - -My evening meal was brought by a serving-man whom I had not hitherto -seen, accompanied by Sam Daddo. Just as if I remained a guest, I spoke -to Daddo in a friendly fashion, and asked after the health of his -master. He spoke no word in reply, however, although I was sure I saw -him wink at me in a meaning way. I was not slow to interpret this, -especially when, a few seconds later, I saw it repeated. He remained -silent, however, in spite of my frequent questions, so I gave up -talking, continuing only to watch. This was not in vain, for as the -strange serving-man was passing out of the door, Sam, in following him, -put his right hand behind his back and revealed a piece of paper. This I -snatched at eagerly, though noiselessly, wondering what it might mean. - -Ere long I was able to examine it, for my gaolers locked the door, and I -listened to their footsteps as they traversed a passage, and climbed -some stone steps. - -Lifting my couch, and placing it against the door so that I might not be -surprised, I went to my window and unfolded the piece of paper I had -taken from Sam Daddo's hand. Only a few words were written thereon, but -enough to give me food for thought. This was what I read: - - - "_I hope I have misjudged you. Forgive me if I have. I have heard - of all that took place after you left me last night. I grieve much - that you should be a prisoner because of me; but means may be - offered for your escape. I need a friend sorely, for I am in dire - danger, and I am a weak, ignorant girl. Once at Polperro, I should - be safe. The one who gives you this may not help you, although he - would not willingly harm me. Unless help comes I shall be wedded to - O. in a week, and I welcome the thought of death more._" - - -As I said, this missive gave me much food for thought. It was evidently -written by Mistress Nancy Molesworth. Little consideration was needed, -moreover, to assure me that she must be in sore straits or she would not -have sought to enlist the sympathy of a prisoner. A few hours before she -had spurned me as a liar. But I bore her no grudge for that--I had -deserved it. It was apparent Sam Daddo had told his sweetheart what had -passed between Otho Killigrew and myself. He had doubtless listened at -the door, and heard all. This, perchance, had led the maid to write me. -Yet she knew not what was in my mind, and must risk much in trusting me. -She seemed to regard my escape as a possibility, and therefore built -upon it. I must confess, too, that her helplessness appealed to me, and -a feeling of joy surged in my heart at the thought of striking a blow -for her liberty. - -But what could I do? Concerning this, I thought long and carefully, but -could fix my mind on no definite plan save to wrench the iron clamp from -my couch, and apply it to what I thought a weak spot in my window. The -result of this was doubtful, and could not be attempted until late at -night when the family had gone to bed. I therefore waited several hours, -and then, after listening carefully, I commenced my work. - -A minute later I stopped suddenly, for I heard footsteps outside. Then -the door opened, and Benet Killigrew entered. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -BENET KILLIGREW AS A WRESTLER. - - -On entering my prison, he closed the door and locked it. Then, putting -the key in his pocket, he placed the candle he had brought on a shelf, -and faced me. - -"I like you, Roger Trevanion," he said. "You are a man after my own -heart." - -I shrugged my shoulders, showing no surprise at his presence, but -wondering what was in his mind. "Why?" I asked. - -"Because you are a man. It did my soul good to see you beard Otho, and -struggle with those fellows. By my faith, I fair itched to help you!" - -I could see he had something in his mind. If I kept my head cool, and my -ears open, I might discover something of importance. I remembered, too, -the look he had given his brother as he spoke of his feelings towards -Mistress Nancy Molesworth, and drew my conclusions accordingly. - -"But you struck no blow," I said. - -"That would have been fool's work. I dared not go against my own brother -before the servants. Indeed, ill as I would have liked it, had you -proved too much for them, I should have lent them a helping hand." - -I was silent, wondering what he was driving at. - -"I had this meeting in my mind," he continued. "I determined to come and -see you when Otho was safe asleep." - -"You are afraid of Otho," I said, drawing a bow at a venture. - -"Who would not be?" he cried savagely. "Otho is as cunning as the devil. -He should have been a priest. He hath all the learning of the family, -and can wriggle his way like an adder. Oh, I speak plainly now! I -gloried to hear you give him word for word. Even I dare not do so." - -I had been summing up the nature of the man as he spoke, and thought I -saw whereby I could make him unloose his tongue more freely still. - -"I can see he is master here," I said. "All you have to obey every -movement of his finger. You seem like children in his hands, or like -dogs who have to fetch and carry at his bidding." - -"He hath won the confidence of my father," he cried harshly, "and so it -is 'Otho this,' and 'Otho that.'" - -"While Benet, who is twice as big a man, and twice as handsome, is -nobody," I said. "It is Otho who will get Endellion, Otho who will marry -Mistress Nancy Molesworth and get Restormel,"--and I laughed in a -sneering kind of way. - -"No,--by the mass, no, if you will help me!" - -"I help you!"--this I said in a tone of surprise. All the same, I -expected something of this sort. - -"I could see you pitied the maid," he went on. "I could see that a man -of inches like you thought it was a shame for a maid such as she to be -wedded to such a shambling creature as he." - -"She should have a man like you," I suggested. - -"Ah, you see it!" he cried. "I thought so last night. I said, Here is a -man who knows a man!"--and he drew himself up with a sort of mountebank -bravado. - -"But I am kept out of it," he continued. "She is not allowed to think of -me. She is not allowed even to see me. I must not speak to her. It's all -Otho, Otho. He must have Endellion, he must have Restormel, and he must -have the maid, too." - -"And he seems to love her." - -"Love her! With the cunning love of a priest. But it is not the love of -a man such as I. If she could see me, talk with me, all would be -different!" - -"You think she would love you?" - -"Maidens have not been wont to say me nay," he said, strutting around as -vainly as a peacock. - -"But what hath all this to do with me?" - -"Ah, yes!" he cried; "I had forgotten. Otho hath embittered my father -against you. He hath warned all the servants against you. You are to be -kept here until Otho is wedded to Nancy." - -"And then?" - -"I cannot say yet. But if Otho hath his will it will go ill with you. -But I have brains and power as well as Otho. I marked you last night, -and I know that you, too, love the sight of a man." - -I could not help smiling at the fellow's vanity. But I said nothing. - -"You refused Otho's conditions last night, and you are here because of -it. Look you, I will get you out of this if you like." - -"How?" - -"Oh, Otho hath not everything his own way. I have friends as well as he. -If you will help me, you shall be free. Is it to be a bargain?" - -"How help you?" - -"Otho hath ceased to suspect me. He thinks I have given up all thoughts -of wedding Nancy, seeing that my father hath willed that he shall wed -her." - -I waited in silence. - -"A priest is coming here from Padstow shortly," he went on. "It is -intended that Otho and Nancy shall be wedded before he leaves. If you -will help me, we will baulk him. I will take her away. I know a parson -near Bodmin, and he will wed her to me." - -"Whether the maid wills or no?" - -"She will be glad enough to wed me, I'll lay to that,"--and again he -strutted around the room. - -"And how will you do this?" I asked. - -"Nay, I will not tell you until I get your promise. Give me your word, -Roger Trevanion, and I will tell you how you shall get out of this hole; -also my plans for taking away the maid Nancy from the marriage altar." - -In truth, I felt less inclined to give my promise to Benet than to Otho; -but I had become more cautious. - -"But why need you my help?" I asked. - -"Because,"--he unlocked the door and listened carefully before replying; -then, after locking it again, came back to me, and continued: "Because -Otho hath bewitched almost everybody, and because I need such a man as -you to carry out my plans." - -"But at least you can tell me what you wish me to do?" - -"I want you to help me to take her from here, and carry her to Bodmin. -After that, I care not." - -"But there will be danger," I said. "I must know something more about -the matter before I give you my word." - -"Nay, I will tell you no more!" he cried angrily. - -"And if I refuse?" - -He gave no answer, but looked black. Whereupon I bethought me of the -usual plan of those who are undecided. - -"I must have time to think," I said; "this request of yours hath come -upon me suddenly. Come to me to-morrow night at this time and I will -give you my answer." - -"And in the mean time you are a gentleman?" he queried. - -"I am a prisoner." - -"But you will not speak to the serving-men about what hath been spoken -in confidence?" - -"There is surely no need to ask me such a question," I said. - -He looked at me keenly. - -"It is well, Roger Trevanion," he said. "I shall look on you as my ally -and prepare accordingly. I can trust you, for you are a man, and love -men. By the mass, they shall all know that Benet is more than a match -for Otho! Good-night, Trevanion. I am ill pleased that you should have -to spend another night in this hole, but it may not be helped. I will -have my plans ready by to-morrow night,--and then----" - -He strutted towards the door as he spoke, taking the key from his pocket -meanwhile. - -My heart gave a great leap, for a daring plan came into my mind. I had -no time to consider its value, for it required instant action. I -determined to put it to the test without delay. - -"Wait a moment, Killigrew," I said. "There is just another matter before -you go." - -He turned around willingly. I could see he was in no haste to depart. - -"You are sure our conversation hath not been heard?" I said, looking at -him steadily. - -"Do you think I am a fool?" he said vainly. "I went to the door to see -that Otho had not ferreted us out. As for the guard, I told him to keep -away until I came back." - -My heart seemed to be in my mouth, for this fell in exactly with the -plan that had been so suddenly born in my mind. - -"It is well," I replied. Then I waited a second, measuring Benet with my -eye. "You have told me that I am a man after your own heart," I -continued presently. "You said you could trust me because I could fight. -But it seems I must take you on trust. It is ill undertaking a difficult -and dangerous piece of work with a man who may be able to do nothing but -talk." - -His eyes burnt red, a fierce expression flashed across his face. - -"Do you say that to me--Benet Killigrew?" he said in tones of angry -wonder. - -"Yes, to you," I replied, still keeping my eyes steadily upon him. I saw -the vexation pass away, and in its place came a look of wild joy. - -"You want to know if I can fight--whether I have courage?" he cried -eagerly. - -"Ah!" I cried in the same tone. - -"There is one way you can know," he continued. "Try now, will you?" - -He had swallowed my bait without a doubt. He had not even guessed the -thought in my mind. In his joy at the thought of battle he had snatched -as eagerly at my suggestion as a hungry dog snatches at a bone. - -"Yes, it will be well," I replied. "You want me to help you in a -dangerous business. You may fail me at a dangerous pinch, for aught I -know. You might show the white feather." - -"Benet Killigrew fail to fight!" he cried in wonder. "Why, let me fetch -swords, man. By the mass, I have been longing for months to find a man -worthy of being called a man!" - -"We cannot fight with swords," I said. "Even here we should arouse the -house. The sound of steel reacheth far." - -"With fists, then!" he cried. - -"Let's try a hitch first; after that we can use fists!" - -He grasped my hand with a cry of joy. "I said you were a man after my -own heart," he said eagerly. "I love a fight beyond all things. I have -been longing for one,--ay, longing! But there hath been no man who would -dare stand before me. I am afraid it will go hard with you, for I can -barely govern myself when my blood is up. But I will not hurt you too -much, for I love you, Trevanion. I love any man who will dare fight with -Benet Killigrew!" - -So far I had got my way. In spite of his boasting, I did not wonder at -his brother being able to manage him easily. In the business of scheming -he would be but a child to Otho. And still I was doubtful. He was as -big, if not a bigger, man than myself. Doubtless he knew every trick of -a wrestler and a fighter. I took note of his great thews and sinews. He -carried himself with ease, and his step was springy. Still, I did not -see any other means of carrying out my purposes; for although I had -determined to try and escape through the window, I had very little hopes -of succeeding. I therefore took off my shoes, and threw them into the -corner of the room; then I divested myself of my coat. Benet growled -like a dog enjoying a bone as he followed my example. - -"I wish we had wrestling shirts," he said with a laugh, and his eyes -gleamed with fierce joy. "Had I known, I would have prepared for this." - -I did not speak, but held out my hand for him to shake. He gripped me -hard, and gave a grunt of satisfaction. - -"A man's hand!" he said. - -I placed my right hand across his shoulders, and caught him firmly; and -when I had done this I felt more doubtful than ever as to the result. -Benet Killigrew had not boasted of his strength in vain. The fellow was -a giant. I felt his great chest heave. If ever a man felt the joy of -battle, it was he. I am sure he forgot everything of his plans, and of -our relations to each other, in the gladness of the moment. I knew, too, -the moment he placed his hands upon me that he was a wrestler. He heeded -not the fact that the floor on which we stood was of stone, barely -covered with a thin layer of barley straw. - -He felt my body carefully, but giving away no chance thereby. He seemed -to gloat over the opportunity of testing his own muscles. - -"A man's chest!" he grunted. "By heaven, I love you, Trevanion!" - -Then I saw that he was trying for the "loin throw," and prepared myself -for his advances. Thus it was when he thought to accomplish his purpose -I was ready for him, and for a moment held him at advantage. - -"Ah!" he cried, "better and better!" - -But I knew that every power I possessed would have to be used, for by -this time the fierce longing for mastery had come over him. Never did I -feel so glad as at that moment that I had been true to the traditions of -my race and county. For the Trevanions, although the sport had during -the last few years been kept alive by the common people, had always been -noted as wrestlers, and that in the county which, man to man, could -challenge Europe. - -While I had the advantage, therefore, I gripped him for a hug. Had he -been a weaker man his ribs would have cracked like matches, indeed, had -he been able to hold me so, I doubt whether the struggle would have -continued a minute longer. But he had caught a deep breath, and I might -as well have sought to crush a tree as Benet Killigrew. So I gave up the -hug and he laughed like a boy. - -"A good try!" he grunted, and then he tested me sorely. My sinews seemed -likely to crack, so great was the strain that he put upon them, while -the sweat came out over my forehead, and rolled down my face. However I -held my ground, and when at length he failed in the cross hitch, I began -to have more confidence. Especially did I hope for victory as I heard -him mutter savagely, "By Cormoran, he's my match!" - -So then I determined to be careful. I hoped that he had lessened his -power of endurance by the wine-drinking, wild life he had lived. I -therefore acted on the defensive until I should be able to try the throw -I had often practised. Presently I thought his grip less mighty, but I -was not sure, for never in my life had I been held by such a man. Had he -been less confident of victory, he would perchance have been a better -wrestler, but he did not seem to think that even his muscles must -presently give way. So it came about that while he tried a dozen tricks, -and put forth much strength in so doing, I used what power I had more -warily. At length I thought I saw my chance, and so I prepared for what -wrestlers call "the flying mare." In getting the grip necessary for this -throw, I had to face the danger of placing myself in his power. -However, I ventured to do this, for by no other way could I throw him. -He saw my move immediately, and took advantage of it, and for a minute I -was afraid that all was over with me. Never in my life had I struggled -so hard. I saw balls of fire flash before my eyes, while my sinews -seemed likely to snap at any moment. His grip grew weaker, however, in -spite of his frantic struggles. I heard him panting like a mad dog, for -I believe he then realised for the first time that I should master him. -Then with all the strength of shoulders, back, and loins I used the -trick I had intended, and Benet Killigrew, giant though he was, went -flying across the room, his head striking the floor with a terrible -thud. - -For a moment I was afraid I had killed him, but only for a moment; I had -seen such throws before, and knew the result. He would lie stunned for a -few minutes, and then when he came to consciousness he would be dazed -for the next half-hour. This was what I hoped for, and for which I had -been struggling. - -After wiping the sweat from my brow, I seized Benet's jacket and put it -on. As luck would have it, the garment fitted me well. Then I took my -money from my pockets. Otho had left me this, for which, as you may be -sure, I felt thankful. - -After this I cast my eyes around me again, for I remembered that Benet -had worn his hat when he came to see me. This I put on; so being about -his height, and wearing his hat and coat, I fancied I should be able, -except in bright light, to pass myself for him. My sword I gave up hope -of getting; but my pistols were in my saddle-bags. - -Giving Killigrew a last look, and noting that he was still breathing, I -unlocked the door, and in a few seconds later was in the passage -outside. The candle which I took with me, although it burnt low, showed -me where to go. I therefore groped along the dark pathway, and climbed -the steps which led to the entrance hall. Here I saw a man leaning -against the wall. I had extinguished my light, and as the hall was dimly -lighted the fellow could not see me plainly. - -"All right, Maester Benet?" asked the man sleepily. - -"Yes," I answered in a whisper, motioning him to be silent. Evidently -Benet's actions were not of an orderly nature, for he seemed to take but -little notice when I made my way towards the side door, out of which I -had gone when I followed Amelia Lanteglos. - -Arrived there, however, I was likely to be found out, for the man came -after me. - -"The kay, Maaster Benet; I shall want the kay if you be goin' out!" - -I flung it to him, therefore, and before the fellow came near me was -outside the walls of the house. Overjoyed at my success, I drew a deep -breath, but I dared not linger. In a few minutes Benet would probably -return to consciousness, and would hammer at the prison door which I had -locked. I therefore found my way to the courtyard, hoping to reach the -stables without accident, for I determined not to leave Chestnut behind -me. I had barely crossed the yard when I saw a man. Evidently old Colman -Killigrew was afraid of his neighbours, else he would not have his house -guarded so carefully. - -"Who's that?" asked the man. "Es et Maaster Benet?" - -Mimicking Benet's voice as well as I was able, I bade him saddle the -stranger's horse. - -"What stranger?" asked the man. - -"He who came two nights ago," I replied, "I want to ride the beggar." - -The man gave a laugh, and went to the stables without a word. - -"Put on his own saddle," I said, blessing Benet for having led his -serving-men to obey his strange whims without questioning. - -The man put a lighted candle in a lanthorn, and began to saddle -Chestnut, but in this he found a difficulty. The horse had not been in -the habit of obeying any other voice than mine. He snapped at the fellow -so viciously, that he left the stall. - -"He's a oogly beggar, Maaster. I can't saddle un. He's a booty to look -top, but I wudden ride un ef I wos you. I spoase you've locked up the -gen'l'man, ain't ee?" - -"Stand still, Chestnut," I said in my own voice. The horse recognized -me, and gave a joyful whinney. - -Instantly the fellow suspected me. He saw that I was not his master, and -moved towards the door. I was sorry to do it, but it could not be -helped. I struck him a heavy blow and he fell heavily on the ground. - -"If you move or make a noise you are a dead man," I said. - -"My Gor!" muttered the fellow, "tes the gen'leman hisself." - -In a few seconds I saddled Chestnut; then I determined to use him -further. - -"Come with me," I said. - -"Where, sur?" he asked tremblingly. - -"Show me the nearest way to the high-road," I said. "If you deceive me, -I'll kill you. I want to avoid the lodge gates too." - -He obeyed me without a word. A few minutes later I was on a cart-track -which led in the direction of Endellion village. - -"Laive me go back, sur," pleaded the man. "I waan't tell nothin', and -they may vind out that I've left the courtyard. Hark, they have vound -out!" - -I heard men shouting as he spoke. - -"Laive me go back, sur," he continued to plead; "this trail do laid to -the high-road, you caan't go wrong." - -I let him go, for he could be of no further use to me; then I gave -Chestnut rein, and a few minutes later was safe on the high-road. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -THE ESCAPE FROM ENDELLION. - - -All the events which I have just described happened so suddenly that I -had been able to think of nothing beyond obtaining my liberty. On -reaching the high-road, however, I began to cast about for my course of -procedure. Knowing that I should probably be followed, I had to decide -quickly, but although I racked my wits sorely, I could settle upon -nothing that pleased me. For, foolish as it may seem, no sooner was I -away from Endellion, than I wanted to be back again, and now that it -seemed impossible for me to keep my bargain with Peter Trevisa, I felt -more than ever determined to take the maid Nancy Molesworth to -Treviscoe. I found myself constantly pitying her too, and wondering how -she would fare among the Killigrews. My first determination to ride -towards London I abandoned, and so I rode on dejectedly until I -bethought me of a sentence which Benet Killigrew had let drop about a -priest coming from Padstow who was to wed Mistress Nancy to Otho. This -decided me, and without more ado I touched Chestnut's side with my -heels, and rode towards St. Enedock, from which I had heard I should be -able to get a ferry-boat to take me across the Camel River to Padstow. -Although the road was none of the best, I reached St. Enedock in a -little more than an hour; and then I began to look about me to obtain -the ferry-boat. - -Did I not believe I was hardly pressed for time, I should have stayed at -this village for some time, for it was talked about throughout the -county. It had been averred that the whole place was often covered with -sand, while the church was so much buried that the people often had a -difficulty in entering. Indeed report had it that the vicar only -conducted a service therein once a year so as to be able to claim his -tithes, and in order to do this he had to climb in at one of the -windows. - -Although it was but two hours past midnight I succeeded in waking the -ferryman, who lived in a hut close by the river, and after some argument -succeeded in persuading him to take me across. Long before we had -reached the little landing-place at Padstow, I found that he was -somewhat of a character, and possessed strong religious views. - -"I can see you are a staunch Protestant," I said after a good deal of -talking on his part. - -"Down with Popery I do zay, sur," was his response. - -"And yet one of your great families are Papists." - -"You do main the Rosecarricks." - -"No." - -"Who then; the Killigrews?" - -"Yes." - -"They belong to th' ould Sur Nick, and the young Killigrews be sons of -hell," he cried with energy. - -"Supposing one of them were to come enquiring of you whether I came -across here?" I asked. - -He looked at me keenly. - -"Be you a Protestant?" he asked. - -"Sound," I replied. - -"And p'r'aps you doan't want me to know who you be?" he queried slyly. - -"You are a clever man," I answered. - -"Then they shaan't know," he said with a grin, "onnly you must know, -sur, I allays charge double in sich cases." - -I laughed, and promised him this, feeling myself in fortune's way. - -"Any time, sur, night or day, I'm yer sarvent," he cried when I had paid -him his money. "My brother do work the ferry from this side, sur, and -'ee's ov the saame opinions as I be. I'll spaik to un, sur. I'll tell un -'bout ee. You can allays depend on we, sur." - -I found Padstow to be an ugly little fishing village, while the inn to -which I went provided but poor accommodation, even after I had spent a -good half-hour in arousing the landlord. However Chestnut was well -stabled and foddered, so I minded but little, especially as I found the -innkeeper willing to talk. - -I was not long in discovering that only one Papist priest lived at -Padstow, and that very few of the people were of his persuasion. Indeed, -although the priest lodged with a Papist family in the town, he spent -much of his time in visiting the few Catholic families in the -neighbourhood. He went often to the Arundells at Lanherne, to the -Rosecarricks, and to the Killigrews at Endellion. - -"Do the people hate him?" I asked. - -"That they doan't," replied the innkeeper; "he's the jolliest ould chap -you ever zeed. I tell 'ee, sur, ef oal the priests 'ad a-bin like he, I -doan't b'leeve we Cornish people wud 'ave changed our religion years -agone." - -After learning all I could from him, I went to bed, determined to find -the priest next day, and discover his relations with the Killigrews. -Although I little expected it, I fell asleep almost immediately, nor did -I wake until late the following morning, when the landlord came to my -door asking "whether I would 'ave a scrowled salt pilchard, 'am rasher, -or conger pie for my breakfast." - -As soon as I could I started out to find the priest, but on going to the -house at which he stayed I found that he would not be home until night. -He had gone to Lanherne the previous day, on urgent business, but had -bade the woman prepare for his coming about nine o'clock. This gave me -time to look about me, and prepare for his coming. - -Much as I disliked appearing in a disguise, I saw that I should defeat -my own purposes if I presented myself to the priest as Roger Trevanion. -I therefore bought a suit of homely garments but such as a gentleman -might wear on holiday occasions. I was also able to purchase a good -sword, which done I felt myself ready to meet the priest. It was -therefore with much impatience that I waited until nine o'clock, the -hour when he was supposed to arrive; then remembering that probably he -would want food after his journey I decided to put off my visit until -half an hour later. For it is well known that a man is more inclined to -be trustful and friendly after a meal than before. It was turned -half-past nine, therefore, before I presented myself at his lodgings. I -was immediately shown into the room in which he sat. - -"What want you of me, my son?" he asked. - -"I wish to know when you could perform the marriage rite, father," I -asked, noting the friendly and unsuspicious way with which his eyes -rested on me. - -"Ha," he said kindly, "then you are one of the few faithful ones yet to -be found in the country. You look on marriage as a sacrament, and not a -mere legal business like the heretics of these parts." - -"I trust so, father. When could you wed us?" - -"Is the maid here in Padstow?" he asked. - -"Nay," I replied. "She is at present with heretics, but she is of the -true faith." - -"What is her name, my son?" - -Then I told him a tale I had been weaving through the day, and which was -so plausible that he did not appear to doubt it. - -"I could wed you to-morrow," he said at length, for it will be -remembered that this took place in 1745, eight years before the famous -law passed by Lord Hardwicke, through whose influence it was decreed -that banns of marriage must be publicly announced in the parish church -in order for the ceremony to be legal. - -"I do not think I could bring her here to-morrow," I said cautiously. - -"Then I am afraid you will have to wait a few days, my son," he replied. - -"Why father?" I asked. - -"Because to-morrow night I go to the Killigrews at Endellion, and shall -stay there three or four days." - -"You know when you will return from Endellion, I suppose?" I asked -quietly. - -"I shall stay no longer than four days," was his reply; "at the end of -that time I must return." - -"So if I came to you after that time, all would be well?" - -"Yes; but speak not of it, my son, we of the true faith are sorely -harried in this country. Cornish people love not the Stuarts, although -in some countries their return is longed for. Until the right time -comes, we must be cautious." - -I knew all I desired now, and should be able to act accordingly. My -journey had not been in vain, and before long I left him, my head all -a-whirl with many thoughts. I waited not an hour longer at Padstow, and -not wishing to cross the river again by means of the ferry, I determined -to ride to Wadebridge, and from thence make my way to the village of St. -Kew, where I could leave Chestnut, and then go afoot to Endellion, which -was only two miles away. - -This I did, passing through Wadebridge without any one noticing me, and -arriving at St. Kew about five o'clock in the morning. After breakfast I -walked to Endellion and looked carefully around me, for I was again in -the Killigrews' country. There were but a few houses in the village, and -I could easily discover what I wanted to know, if I cared to ask of the -cottagers; but this I would not do, for it is well known that people -with little to interest them talk much about what any stranger may say. -I therefore waited until after eight o'clock, and then to my delight I -saw Jennifer Lanteglos leave one of the cottages, and make her way -towards the fields near. This was what I desired; so, unseen by her and -by the cottagers, I followed. When she had passed through two fields I -overtook her and spoke kindly. - -"Whither away, Jennifer my fine maid?" I asked. - -She gave a start. "Plaise, sur, I be going to teel taetis" (till -potatoes), she replied like one in fear. - -"You remember me, Jennifer?" I queried, for the girl seemed too -frightened to lift her eyes to mine. - -"Oa iss, sur. I've 'eerd 'bout 'ee. Do 'ee be careful, sur, do 'ee." - -"Hath Amelia been home lately?" I asked. - -"Aw iss, laast night, sur." - -"Did she tell you aught?" - -"Iss, sur. She towld me 'bout you, sur." - -"And what thought she about me?" - -"She 'ardly knawed what to think, sur, 'cept that you be a braave strong -gentleman." - -"And did she tell you what her mistress thought about me?" - -The girl shook her head. - -"Look you, Jennifer, I want to see your sister to-night." - -"Doan't 'ee try to, sur. They be purtly maazed weth 'ee up at the 'ouse. -They 'll kill 'ee, sur. Doan't 'ee go nist (near) 'em, sur." - -I saw she was in earnest, and that she was anxious for my welfare. - -"Jennifer," I said, "your sister loves her young mistress, doesn't she?" - -"Oa iss, sur, that she doth." - -"And she wants a friend right badly?" - -"Oa iss, sur, I musn't say nothin', but she do, sur." - -"Then look here, Jennifer, you must go to Endellion this day and see -your sister. You must tell her to come here this night." - -At first the maid was much frightened, but I succeeded in persuading her -at length. I also told her what she must say, and how she must carry out -my plans. - -"Your sister must be here at nine o'clock this night," I said, "here by -this stile. You must go up to the house at once, and tell her to find -out all she can through the day. Tell her I would befriend her young -mistress. You must not plant any potatoes to-day, Jennifer. Here is a -crown piece for your trouble." - -This done, I went back to St. Kew. I felt at ease in my mind that -Jennifer would fullfil my mission, and I hoped that Nancy Molesworth -would not hesitate to fall in with the plans I had conceived. I remained -at St. Kew all the day, not stirring outside the inn, until it was time -for me to go to meet Amelia Lanteglos. When I arrived at the stile, no -one was to be seen, and I feared much that the maid had failed me, but I -had not waited long before I saw two women coming towards me. These -proved to be Mistress Nancy Molesworth's serving-maid and her sister -Jennifer. So far all was well. - -At first Amelia Lanteglos was chary of speech, but at length she spoke -freely, and told me all that had happened at the house. Sam Daddo had -told her that the Killigrews were searching for me, and that should they -find me it would go ill with me. - -"And Benet Killigrew?" I asked. - -"Ee es more maazed than anybody, sur. Ee do zay as ow 'ee went down -where you wos put, to zee that you wos saafe, and that you took 'im -unawares like. Ee do vow 'ee'll kill 'ee, sur, for you ded strick an -unfair blaw." - -"And your mistress?" I asked presently, after the maid had talked about -Benet's passion; "What of her, Amelia?" - -"I'm afraid she'll go luny, sur. She do 'aate the thot of marryin' -Maaster Otho, and she do zay a priest es comin' to-morra to marry 'er to -'im." - -"And does she trust me, Amelia?" - -"I dunnaw, sur. I believe she do sometimes. She wud be glad to do -anything to git away from they Killigrews." - -"Would she be willing to take a bold step to get away from Endellion -Castle?" I asked her. - -"She caan't, sur. She's watched night and day." - -"But if means were offered?" - -"Aw, sur, she wud git away ef she could." - -After this I did my best to test the maid's loyalty and devotion to her -mistress, for I was risking everything upon the plan I had formed, and -did not want to be hasty. - -"Amelia," I said presently, "I want you to tell your mistress that I -desire to be her friend. I would take her from yon den, and on my oath -as a gentleman I seek to free her from the Killigrews. Tell her also -that if she will be willing to obey me I will effect her escape." - -"How, sur?" asked the maid, who trembled violently. - -"Benet Killigrew wants her," I said. - -"He did, sur, but I believe 'ee's gived up the thot now; besides my -mistress do 'aate Maaster Benet as much as the other." - -"That may be, but you must deceive him." - -"Ow, sir?" - -"In this way. Benet Killigrew has been planning to carry your mistress -away. That was the reason he came down to me in that cell where I was -imprisoned at Endellion. He wanted me to help him, and offered me my -liberty on condition that I would help to carry out his plans. His -design is to take her to a priest near Bodmin. Well, I want you to tell -your mistress that she must consent to this, and you must convey the -news to Benet. Do you understand?" - -"But she wudden't, sur, she wudden't!" - -"Tell her that she must arrange for Benet to get horses and be ready to -take her away to-morrow night." - -"But, sur, the priest es comin' to marry 'er to Maaster Otho to-morra -night. Besides she'd ruther die than go away aloan with Maaster Benet." - -"Then Benet must also get a horse for you, and you must accompany your -mistress. You must ride through Endellion village, and when you get to -the four cross-roads on the other side, I shall meet you--do you see?" - -"But what good'll that be?" - -"You must see to it, that only Benet come with you, and then I shall -stop you and take your mistress away from him." - -"But you cudden, sur; he's a terable fighter, and wud kill 'ee." - -"Who came off best when we fought the other night? I tell you, you need -not fear." - -Slowly the girl grasped my meaning, and, after many protestations, she -agreed to carry my message to her mistress. - -"You are sure that the Killigrews intend marrying her to Otho to-morrow -night?" - -"Aw, iss, sur." - -"Well go back now, and tell your mistress what I have said to you. Then -to-morrow morning Jennifer must go to you, and you must tell her if she -hath consented to my plans. Mind, if you betray me, or if you fail, you -will have sent your mistress to a place worse than hell." - -The maid protested much, and I had to content myself with walking back -to St. Kew with her assurance that she would do her utmost. In spite of -my excitement my heart was heavy with misgivings, for the more I -considered what I had done, the more did difficulties present -themselves. How could the maid Nancy be expected to trust me? Only once -had I seen her, and then she had torn my lying disguise from me in a -minute. I had left her convicted of deceit. Was it likely then that she -should undertake to obey my behests? Might not my protection seem worse -than that of Benet Killigrew? Would she not rather become the wife of -Otho than trust to me? - -These and a thousand other disquieting thoughts filled my mind as I -walked back to the inn. And yet I had had hopes. If the maid hated the -Killigrews so much, would she not risk anything to escape them? Had she -not written me a letter, and therein told me that she would trust me? -But if she did, could I carry out my plans? Supposing she trusted to -Benet, and he brought her to the four cross-ways, could I take her from -him? I had beaten him at wrestling, but was I a better swordsman? - -Then I laughed at my own anxiety, and wondered why I cared so much. Why -should I trouble? I tried to analyze my own thoughts. Should I take her -to Peter Trevisa's if I succeeded in mastering Benet? That were poor -return for the maid's trust; nay, it would stamp me as a base trickster. -And yet had I not promised Trevisa? Was I not day by day spending his -money? Again and again I felt like giving up the whole business; but -when I encouraged such a thought the remembrance of Nancy Molesworth's -face would come to me, and I saw her just as when she laid her hand on -my arm on the roof of the house, and said: "I am alone, helpless. I am -surrounded by those I cannot trust. I hate--loathe the thought of----" -Then in spite of myself I found myself gripping the hilt of my sword, -and setting my teeth together while I vowed to set her at liberty. I -found joy in the thought of beating the Killigrews too, and laughed as I -thought of their discomfiture. - -But I need not tell of all my fears, notwithstanding they worried me -sorely, and when I made my way towards the stile the following morning I -had almost prepared myself to be told that the maid Nancy would not -trust me. - -I found Jennifer Lanteglos waiting for me. She had just come from the -house of the Killigrews. - -"Have you seen your sister this morning?" I asked. - -"Iss, sur." - -"Well?" and I waited impatiently for her to speak. - -"Ef you plaise, sur, they'll come." - -I know not why, but my heart seemed to have a difficulty in beating. - -"Hath Mistress Nancy spoken to Benet?" I asked excitedly. - -"No, sur, but 'Melia 'ave. Maaster Benet wos took in a minit." - -"And he'll arrange the escape?" - -"Iss, sur, they be going to leave the house at nine o'clock." - -"How?" - -"I dunnaw, sur. 'Melia ded'n tell me, she 'ad n' time. But she'll do -et, sur." - -That was all the wench could tell me, and so I had to be content. How -Benet was to deceive Otho, how they were to escape without detection, I -knew not. It was an anxious day that I passed, but I comforted myself -with the thought that Mistress Nancy Molesworth was not to be imposed -upon, and that she would see to it that all my behests were obeyed. All -the same, as I thought of the many things which might take place, I -cursed myself as a numskull for not devising a better plan; for I -fancied I saw a hundred ways better than the one I had marked out. - -At nine o'clock I dismounted from Chestnut at the four cross-ways, -ready, as I thought, for whatever might happen. I looked around me, for -it was bright moonlight, and took note of the position. It was a lonely -spot, a mile from the house, so unless the party were followed we were -not likely to be troubled with interference. - -After I had waited a quarter of an hour or so, and heard no sounds I -became sorely impatient. Had Benet seen through the scheme and taken her -the other way? Had Otho discovered the plot? Had Amelia proved false? -Had Nancy changed her mind at the last minute? I called myself a fool -for caring so much, but at that time I was in a fever, and I chafed -finely as I strode to and fro. - -More than half an hour had passed, and I had put my foot in the stirrup -to ride towards Endellion, when I heard the sound of horses' hoofs; a -minute or so later I saw a man and two women riding towards me. - -I drew my sword, and waited. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -MY FIGHT WITH BENET KILLIGREW, AND OUR FLIGHT ACROSS THE MOORS. - - -"Stop!" I cried as the party came up. Immediately the women checked -their horses, but the man seemed as though he would ride on, heedless of -me. When he saw that his companions obeyed my bidding, however, he -wheeled around savagely. - -"Who are you, my man?" he cried. It was Benet Killigrew who spoke. -Evidently the women had carefully obeyed my bidding. - -"Thank you, Killigrew, for carrying out my plans," I said. "Now you can -ride back to your father and the priest, and tell them what a fool you -have been." - -I heard him growl an oath which I will not here set down. - -"What want you?" he cried. - -"I could have shot you easily," I said, "but that is not my way. Go back -now, I will take care of the lady." - -He saw the trap into which he had fallen, but he was not a man to give -up easily. - -"Ha!" he laughed, "after all, I'm glad of this. You thought I should -play into your hands, but, by Heaven, you play into mine!" - -He leaped from his horse as he spoke, and I believe that for the moment -in his eagerness to fight he had forgotten why he was there. - -Bidding Chestnut stand still, I placed myself on guard while Benet drew -his sword. - -"I like not fighting before women," he cried; "they faint at the sight -of blood, but, by Cormoran, I love you, Trevanion! We'll fight for the -maid, and the best man shall have her." - -"Stop a minute," I said. "This is Mistress Nancy Molesworth, is it not?" - -"Yes,"--it was the maid herself who spoke. - -"And you do not wish to go with this man Benet Killigrew?" - -"No, no. I will go no further with him now. I only came here thus at -your bidding!" - -"Did you?" growled Benet, "but you will go further with me. Trevanion, -you are over confident, my man. Because you threw me by a trick I had -not practised, you ventured on this scheme? I love you for it, but you -are a dead man, Trevanion"; and he gave a laugh of wild joy. - -For the moment I repented I had not wounded him unawares and taken away -the maid without his knowing who had done it, but only for a moment. It -is but a coward's device to hurt an unprepared man. Besides, although -Benet Killigrew was a wild rake, and ill-fitted to be the husband of -such a maid as Nancy Molesworth, he was a brave man, and loved a fight, -and as such I respected him. - -Without waiting he attacked me hotly; all the same I saw he was wary, -and was not weakened by over-confidence, as he was when we wrestled. -His eyes continued to gleam with a fierce joy, and he laughed like a man -well pleased. - -"You thought to beat Benet Killigrew," he cried, "you thought to use him -as a tool, eh?" - -For full three minutes we fought without either gaining advantage, and I -realized how much depended on the skill and strength of my right arm. I -saw too that Benet meant to kill me; every thrust he made meant death -had I not been successful in parrying them. Never before had I fought -with such a man; never before had I seen such a gleam of joy, a joy that -was devilish, as I saw in Benet Killigrew's eyes. - -I had no chance of noticing the two women, for Benet pressed me sorely. -I fancied I heard some slight screams, but of these I recked nothing. A -woman always cries out at a man's blows. For the first few minutes I -acted on the defensive. I was anxious to test my antagonist, before -seeking to disable him, for this was all I wanted to do. - -Presently, therefore I prepared myself for a method of attack of which I -fancied Killigrew would be ignorant, but in making it I placed myself at -a disadvantage, for my heel caught on a big stone which lay in the road, -and I was thrown off my guard. He was not slow in making use of this, as -may be imagined, and I doubt much if I could have saved myself, for I -stumbled back a couple of paces, and as I stumbled I saw his sword arm -raised. Before he could strike, however, his arm was caught from behind, -and in a second I was my own man again. - -He gave a savage oath, and furiously threw aside the one who had kept -him from taking advantage of my mishap. - -In a second I saw that it was Mistress Nancy Molesworth who had come to -my aid, and while I felt ashamed that I needed to be helped by a maid, -the incident in the battle nerved my arm. - -"Come on, Benet Killigrew," I said, "that stone shall not serve you -again." - -"Bah, you were at my mercy," he cried, "but you were saved by the maid -Nancy. Well, the best man shall have her!" - -After that no further word was spoken, for we fell to again, and each of -us fought like grim death. And now Benet fought not so much for the joy -of fighting, as for the sake of claiming the maid who had held his hand, -and for revenge on me. I too fought in deadly earnest, for now that the -maid had rendered me such signal service I felt more than ever desirous -of ridding her from the power of the Killigrews, and perhaps I desired -to show her even at that moment that I was a better man than my -opponent. Besides, I knew that Otho Killigrew and his brothers might be -upon me at any moment, so that whatever was done must be done quickly. -With this in my mind I became less cautious, being anxious to finish the -business, and Benet, noting this, thought, I expect, that my guard was -becoming weak; whereupon, imagining I was yielding ground, he rushed on -me with so little care that he spitted himself on my sword, while his -weapon fell from his hand. - -Precious though every moment was, I undid his doublet and examined the -wound I had made. The blood came freely, but I did not think it was -mortal. For this I was glad, because I wished not to have his life -resting on me. - -"You have got the maid, Trevanion," he gasped, "but I shall not die. -Some time we shall fight again," and with that he fell into a swoon. - -"We are followed!" - -It was the maid Nancy who spoke, and instantly I heard the sound of -horses. - -"Mount!" I cried quickly, and then I saw that the serving-maid had not -alighted from her horse. Whistling to Chestnut that he might come to me, -I turned to help Mistress Nancy to get on her horse; but she would have -nought to do with me. Instead she led her steed to a high stone, and -without my aid sat in her saddle. I jumped on Chestnut's back, -therefore, and galloped southward, with the two women close to me. - -Both of them rode well. The maid Nancy sat her horse gracefully, as -every well-born woman should, while Amelia Lanteglos rode carelessly and -easily, as is common among country wenches who make a practice of riding -horses barebacked. For a couple of miles neither spoke; we rode hard as -was natural, but at the end of that time I drew my rein for a moment. I -was anxious to listen whether we were followed. The women, however, rode -forward. - -"Stop!" I said. - -"For why?" It was Mistress Nancy who spoke. - -"I wish to listen whether the Killigrews are riding behind us, or -whether they have stopped with Benet." - -Upon this they obeyed my behest, I thought unwillingly. I listened for a -few moments, but no sound reached me. - -"They must be staying awhile with Benet," I said aloud. - -"Yes, but they will follow us. Let us forward!" - -"Whither?" I asked, for her tones nettled me. She spoke as though I were -a servant. - -"There is but one place," she replied sharply. "Your promise was to take -me to Polperro." - -"And when you get there?" I asked. - -"Your work will be done then, sir." - -"But the Killigrews will follow you to Polperro." - -"I have friends there who will protect me. Let us waste no more time." - -We rode forward without another word, although, to tell the truth, her -discourteous mode of speech cooled my ardour. Apparently she did not -remember that I had been scheming and fighting for her liberty. -Evidently I was no more to her than a lad who might open a gate through -which she might enter into liberty. What became of me in opening the -gate, she cared not. This ill-agreed with my nature, although, when I -remembered my promise to Peter Trevisa, I felt tongue-tied. The truth -was, I wot not what to do. My bargain with Trevisa hung like a millstone -around my neck, and the fact that I could not altogether shake off the -thought that I meant to take the maid to Treviscoe made me ashamed to -speak to her. - -I do not pretend to be a hero such as story-tellers rave about, and I -must confess that the thought of having Trevanion under easy -circumstances became hourly more dear to me. All the same I wanted to -act worthily of my name, and the thought of the helplessness of the -women who rode near me made me anxious for their safety. - -"We must ride through Wadebridge," I said at length. - -"Why?" - -"Because of the river." - -"Very well." - -After that we lapsed into silence again. A mile or two further on I -sought to draw her into a conversation, but in vain. Evidently she had -accepted my escort as the one means of escaping from the Killigrews, but -she loved me no more than she trusted them. I was as distasteful to her -as they were, and she would have scorned my help had any other means -presented themselves. I could see too that she did not trust me, and -that if I acted contrary to her wishes she would leave me. Now that she -had gained her liberty she felt confident of her own strength and -ingenuity. The fact that no sound of the Killigrews followed us gave her -assurance, and in her ignorance of what might happen she fancied herself -well out of harm's way. For myself she was sure I must have some purpose -of my own to serve, and it was for her to use me in so far as I could be -of any value to her, taking precautions all the time, however, that I -did not betray her. - -This was how the matter appealed to me, and every mile of the journey -confirmed my belief. Moreover I felt she was just, for although my heart -revolted at the thought of taking her to Treviscoe, I knew I had not -given up hopes of getting back Trevanion. - -All this made me a sorry companion, and made me hang my head as I rode -along. - -"We must decide what road we take after we reach Wadebridge," I said as -we drew near the little port. - -"How? why?" she asked. - -"There be several roads," I replied. "The nearest way to Polperro will -be to ride through Egloshayle, and thence, on to Bodmin, but that is -also the road the Killigrews will most likely take in their search after -you." - -"But they are not following." - -"Doubtless they stopped when they came to Benet, but if I know Otho he -will not give up easily." - -"And the other roads?" - -"There is one across the moors by which we can get to a place called St. -Blazey; from thence it is but a few miles to Polperro." - -"And which do you advise?" - -"I had better not advise," I replied proudly. "The road to Bodmin is -good, although it hath but an ill name, because of the footpads who -infest it. The one across the moors is rough and not so easily followed. -It would be easy to get lost there in the dark." - -"And think you the Killigrews would overtake us if we went the Bodmin -road?" - -"They could ride faster than we." - -"And they would take me back?" - -"I can fight one, I cannot fight many. Besides, when one is not trusted, -it is but little he can do." - -She looked at me keenly. - -"Advise me," she said presently. - -"There will be no sound of horses' hoofs across the moors," I said. -"That fact cuts two ways, but it would give us the advantage at the -start." - -"We will go across the moors," she said in a more friendly way, although -her voice was anxious, as indeed it might well be. - -Accordingly we rode across the bridge which leads into the little town -of Wadebridge, and then went some distance on the Padstow road, until we -came to a little lane which led to the moors. We had gone perhaps a mile -across a dreary tract of land, when she spoke again. - -"There be no bogs, no dangerous places here?" she asked. - -"I never heard of any," I replied. - -"And you think we are away from danger?" - -"I think we are less likely to be followed than if we had taken the main -way. In my opinion it would be best for us to find some place of rest as -soon as daylight comes." - -"Why?" - -"We shall not be able to travel rapidly in the dark, and, think as we -may, but the Killigrews will be scouring the whole countryside, and that -right quickly." - -"But can we not hurry on to Polperro?" - -"It is several hours' ride from here. In an hour or so it will be -daylight. They will then be able to track our horses. Even if they fail -to track us in that way, they will have men placed near John Polperro's -house." - -"Why did you not tell me this earlier?" - -"You would not listen to me." - -"What would you do now then?" - -"I think it would be best to find a farm-house. If we could hap on a -convenient one it would be best to rest there two or three days. This -done, I might reconnoitre Polperro's place, and perchance prepare him -for your coming." - -She turned her head towards me, but the sky was overcast and the light -was dim. She could barely see my face, neither could I see hers. Then I -remembered that I had never seen the maid in broad daylight, and for the -first time I felt the strangeness of my position. I was alone on a wide -stretch of moors with a lady and her serving-woman. We were in all -probability pursued by those who had the legal right to govern the -lady's actions. She desired to go to a place of safety, while it was to -my interest to take her to Peter Trevisa. All this I knew before, but -until then I did not realize what it meant. - -"Will it be safe to go to a farm-house?" she said at length. - -"The country people are very hospitable," I replied; "besides we can pay -them liberally." - -Presently the dark outline of a square church tower appeared against the -dark sky. - -"What is that?" she asked. - -"It is St. Wenn Church tower," I replied. "We should have got farther -than this, but we have been obliged to come very slowly across the -moors. I think the road will soon be better now." - -"It will soon be daylight, you say. Will you look out for some place -where we can stay." - -She spoke despondingly. Doubtless she was lonely, and perhaps she felt -the real difficulties of the situation. She spoke no further to me, -however, but fell back with her serving-maid, leaving me to my thoughts. - -Presently I saw a gray streak in the eastern sky, and then looking back -I saw a party of horsemen. - -"Ride faster!" I cried out. "We are followed." - -"By whom?" - -"Look back," I replied. - -She obeyed me, and I saw by the look in her eyes that she came to the -same conclusion as I. - -"What can we do?" she cried. - -In truth I knew not how to answer her. I had discovered enough of the -Killigrews to know they would not be easily beaten. I was sure too they -would seek to be revenged on me, while the maid Nancy would be wholly in -their power, if I were unable to protect her. To make matters worse, -too, I saw that her horse was lame. It might be that only a stone had -become wedged in the hollow of his hoof, but on the other hand it might -be more serious. Daylight would soon be upon us, and our followers, if -they were the Killigrews, would find us easily. - -"In truth, I cannot tell you just yet," I said. "Let us ride on." - -It was but comfortless words I could speak, but she made no complaining -answer. We descended into a little hollow from which we could not see -our pursuers, but we were none the less free from danger. A few minutes -later we climbed the hill on the other side, I vainly racking my brain -for some feasible plan. All the time the light grew brighter, but I -looked not towards her. Truth to tell, I was ashamed. When we reached -the summit of the hill, while we were hidden from those behind, the -country southward was exposed to our view. My heart gave a great leap, -for what I saw set me thinking rapidly. - -Before me, about two miles away, rose a great rock. It was perhaps -thirty feet high, while nearly at the summit I could see what seemed -like masonry. A doorway was fashioned, just as though some one had used -the place as a refuge. - -"That," I thought, "is Roche Rock!" - -No sooner had the fancy flashed through my brain, than I remembered -Anthony, the tale-teller. I called to mind what he had said about -escaping to a high rock amidst the wild waste of moors. I minded the -scrap of paper lying at my chamber door, on which was written the word -_ROCHE_. - -As I said, the light was increasing, although the sun had not yet risen. -I looked back; we were still hidden from our pursuers. - -"Mistress Nancy!" I cried, "yonder is one place of refuge." - -"Yonder rock! How?" - -"I cannot explain now. Come, let us ride more quickly. I feel sure there -is safety!" - -For the first time since the daylight came I looked at her face. True, -she had suffered much excitement, fear, and fatigue through the night, -but at that moment the light of hope shone in her eyes. Yes, she was a -beauteous maid, and I wondered not that so many men loved her. I had no -feeling of the sort myself,--at the same time her many fears appealed to -my pity, and, forgetful of my promises, I swore to myself that I would -take her to a place of safety. - -"Let us not spare horseflesh!" I cried. "It is but a couple of miles." - -I urged her horse forward, but it was no use. The animal was badly -lamed, and it became more painful for him to hobble at every step he -took. - -"It cannot be helped," I cried; "my Chestnut can carry us both easily. -There, place your foot on mine, and jump in front of me!" - -The maid hesitated as though the thought were unpleasant, but she -overcame her feelings, and did as I bid her, I feeling more than ever -determined to stand by her loyally. Past thirty as I was, the -unaccustomed experience of a maid sitting near me made my blood tingle, -as after speaking to Chestnut we rode through Roche church town. No one -was astir; indeed, the whole village seemed as much unconscious as the -dead who lay near the old parish church. Roche contained only a few -houses, and we quickly passed through it: then turning to the left we -hurried forward towards the rock, which stood amidst a number of small -rocks on the lone moor. - -The serving-maid, Amelia Lanteglos, kept close to me, neither did she -make any complaint. Indeed throughout the whole journey she had kept -cheerful, and as far as lay in her power had ministered to her mistress. - -Arrived at the rock, I looked around me. There were no signs of -pursuers; indeed all was silent as death, save for the sound of our -panting horses. I looked up towards the masonry at the summit of the -rock, which looked like a chapel, and eagerly sought for some signs of -life. In my eagerness to get there, I had scarcely thought of the -improbability of any one taking up abode at such a place. I had obeyed -the impulse of the moment, without recking its wisdom. Meanwhile -Mistress Nancy stood by Chestnut's head looking at me doubtfully. - -"Uncle Anthony," I said; and as if some one rose from the dead, I heard -sounds which seemed to come from the heart of the great rock, and a -minute later I saw Uncle Anthony's face appear at a small window. - -"Uncle Anthony," I repeated, "I want your protection. There are helpless -women here who are fleeing from danger." - -His eyes rested on me for barely a second, then he turned to the maid -Nancy. - -"The shadow of a great rock in a weary land," he said softly. "Come, my -lamb." - -A few minutes later he had descended to the base of the rock. "Come, my -lamb," he said again. - -With an agility of which I should not have thought him capable, he -climbed up the steep side of his resting-place, carefully helping -Mistress Nancy all the time, until he came to a doorway seemingly hewn -out of the rock; having told her to enter, he rendered a similar service -to Amelia Lanteglos, while I stood and watched him like one dazed. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -ROCHE ROCK. - - -"Come, Roger Trevanion," he said presently, "yet there is room." - -"The horses?" I queried. - -"Ah yes," he said, quickly coming to me. "I can make no provision for -them." - -I gave a gesture of impatience. - -"You have a story to tell me, Roger Trevanion," he said, "and it is well -it should be told quickly. But there is plenty of grass on the moors, -and your horse obeys you like a Christian. Take off the saddle, and tell -it to go yonder out of sight, and the other will follow." - -I was not long in doing his bidding. I pulled off the head-gearing and -saddles from both the animals, and then I told Chestnut what I wanted -him to do. I am sure he understood me perfectly, for he trotted some -distance across the moors, the other nag following as Uncle Anthony had -said. - -"There be many horses grazing on these moors," said the old man, as -though he divined the thoughts in my mind, "so yours will attract no -notice." - -I looked around me again, and then up at the vast mass of bluish schorl -rock on which the lonely chapel was built. - -"A wise man doth mount the high rock, and rest in peace," he said, -repeating the very words he had used when I had seen him at Endellion, -only now he spoke like a man of learning and not in the Cornish -vernacular as he had spoken then. "Happy are they who in trouble seek -the shelter of the wise man's high place." - -"I remember," I replied, "that is why I came." - -"You will not be troubled," he said, "it hath a bad name. Spirits of the -dead are said to haunt this moor." - -"The Killigrews fear not man nor devil, especially Otho," I replied. - -"Come, you have much to tell me," was his answer. "At present no man is -in sight, but come. The lady Nancy and her serving-maid will want food -and rest, and there is trouble in your eyes." - -I followed him as he climbed towards the summit of his hiding-place, but -I found it a difficult task, for it was almost perpendicular; the -foot-places were but narrow, too, and the holding-places few. But Uncle -Anthony went easily, like one who had ascended and descended many -times, as indeed he had. - -I discovered that the building in which the old man lived was divided -into two apartments. The one he had used for domestic purposes, and the -other for prayer and meditation. The latter was the one known at St. -Michael's Chapel. - -"It is but little I can offer," remarked he; "but such as I have give I -unto thee. Come, we will go where the lady and her serving-maid -resteth." - -As I entered the strange hiding-place, Mistress Nancy looked eagerly -towards me as if expecting danger, but I quickly dispelled her fears, -and a few minutes later we were all eating such fare as Uncle Anthony -had been able to provide. Little was said during the meal; all of us -were apprehensive of danger, and, when we had eaten, the old man led me -into the chapel. - -"I can guess much," he said, "perchance you will wish to tell me more." - -I hesitated, for in truth I wot not how much to tell. I knew next to -nothing of the story-teller, who led such a strange existence. Who was -the man who masqueraded one day as a traveling droll, and the next as -hermit? Moreover, how came he to know my name? That he was a man -possessed of great powers of penetration was easily to be seen, and I -felt almost afraid as he fixed his keen gray eyes upon me. - -I looked from the window and saw three horsemen coming along the road we -had travelled, and pointed towards them. - -"The Killigrews," I said. - -"Yes, but they will not come here." He spoke with certainty, and I could -not help believing that he told the truth. - -"Who are you, Uncle Anthony?" I asked. - -"A friend of the oppressed, and one who never forgets a kindness," he -replied. - -"Have you powers more than is ordinarily possessed by men?" - -"There be those who have eyes, and see, and there be those who have eyes -and see not. I see." - -"How know you what my name is?" - -He smiled. "Is the name of Trevanion an obscure one? Are the features of -the Trevanions unknown? Cornwall is not a large county, and there be -those who know it well." - -"But you knew not when we entered Endellion together." - -"There be those who, in hours of quiet thought, recall impressions once -made. There be those who can search the human heart, and read the mind." - -"Such powers belong only to the God who made us," I replied. - -"There be those to whom God speaks. Those who dream dreams and see -visions." - -I looked at him questioningly, but I could read nothing in his face; -when I looked into his eyes my own fell, even as the hands of a feeble -swordsman fall before those of his master. - -"If you know all, what need is there for me to tell you?" I stammered. - -"No man knows all," he replied. "But I have seen the face of the Lady -Nancy Molesworth. I have looked into her soul and seen its weariness and -sorrow. I know the hopes of the Killigrews. I looked into your heart, -and knew that your life was linked unto hers. I wrote the word 'Roche' -on that piece of paper, and have waited for your coming." - -"And beyond that?" - -"Beyond that, nothing certain." - -I debated with myself whether I should tell him everything, but I was -afraid and held my peace. - -"Have you naught to tell me, Roger Trevanion?" he said presently. - -"I had heard of the maid's imprisonment at Endellion," I replied, "and I -determined to set her at liberty." Then I described to him what had -happened as I have here written it down. - -"But what is the end to be?" - -"She wishes to be taken to the house of John Polperro." - -"And you will take her there?" - -I was silent, for I remembered the promise I had made to Peter Trevisa. - -Again he scanned my features closely. "Love you this maid?" he asked -sternly. - -"I love no maid!" I replied scornfully. - -"Then what is your purpose? Oh, I know your history, Roger Trevanion. I -know that for years you have taken no woman to your heart. I know that -you have lived in poverty for years. Would you wed her for her -possessions?" - -"I would wed no woman for her possessions," I replied angrily. "Women -are naught to me." - -"So I have been told. Then do you help her from pure chivalry? Is it -your purpose to take her to the place she desires to go? Have you faced -imprisonment and death without thought of reward?" - -"What is that to you?" I asked. - -"This," he replied. "You need my help, and I must be assured that you -mean all that a gentleman should mean before I extend it further." - -"Gentleman!" I cried, "what know you of the feelings of a gentleman? You -a droll, a travelling tale-teller!" - -This I said with a purpose, for I desired to see further into the heart -of the man. I saw too that I had not spoken in vain. His eyes flashed -angrily, and he placed his hand on his left hip as though he carried a -sword there. - -"As good a gentleman as you," he cried angrily, and for the moment he -had lost control over himself. "I have a name as good as yours, my -family--" he stopped, feeling doubtless that he had been betrayed into -saying more than he intended. - -"If you are a gentleman," I replied, "you will know that a man does not -tell all that is in his heart to every passing stranger. You evidently -have your secret, you do not tell it to me." - -"True," he replied quietly. "I spoke hastily, Roger Trevanion. I know -too that the word of a Trevanion is to be trusted, thus I will not -question it." Then he waited for some time in silence, his eyes -occasionally scanning the wild moors around, and again resting upon me. - -"I am waiting," he said presently. - -"For what?" - -"Your word." - -"What word?" - -"The word that your motives are honourable. That you seek only to carry -out the maid's wishes. That you will take her to the house of John -Polperro, and then, if she wishes, leave her as a gentleman should." - -I did not answer. I could not. - -"I wait," he said presently. - -"I am not accustomed to pledge my word and tell my purposes to -strangers," I replied. "I must consider." - -"And I must consider," he retorted. - -"What?" - -"Whether I tell the lady Nancy not to trust you. Whether I shall send -word to the Killigrews telling of your whereabouts, or throw you on the -rocks beneath us!" - -I laughed in his face, and yet as I looked at his lean sinewy body, and -saw the flash of his eyes, my laughter died on my lips. I felt sure that -he could not easily carry out his threat, but I saw I should be a fool -if I made him my enemy. - -"It will not be well for us to be at cross purposes," I said presently. -"Believe me, I would not do the maid an ill turn." - -"And methinks I spoke hastily, foolishly," he replied, "for in truth I -am no fighter. I forgot that I am an old man, that my sinews are soft -and my bones stiff." - -"Besides," I suggested, "the maid Nancy hath a will of her own. She is -not easily forced." - -"Yes, yes," he replied eagerly, "we must speak with her. Nothing must be -done hastily. As you said some time ago, the Killigrews will be watching -around Polperro's house, and she must not go there yet. No, no!" - -He spoke, I thought, rather to himself than to me, and I wondered what -was in his mind. - -"The Killigrews will be scouring the countryside," he went on, "but it -will be many hours before they think of Roche Rock. Of that I will -swear. She is safe yet, but she cannot stay here long. It would neither -be seemly nor right, and Uncle Anthony hath many hiding-places--many." - -"We will have to stay here till nightfall," I said, as though he still -trusted in me. - -"Yes," he replied, "and as soon as she hath rested we will speak -together. You feel weary perchance. Lie down on this pallet and rest." - -"No, I cannot rest; my mind is filled with many things," was my answer. -"I will stay here and watch"; and indeed I felt no weariness. - -Uncle Anthony left the chapel, but soon returned. "The lady Nancy is -asleep," he remarked, "and the serving-maid sits by her watching." - -Some hours passed, but nothing of importance happened. I had a further -conversation with Uncle Anthony, but I could not find out who he was, or -why he chose such a strange mode of existence; but presently he came to -me, saying that he had prepared food for us, after which it would be -well if we talked together. - -During the meal a silence fell upon us, neither did Mistress Nancy once -look at me in the face. But my eyes constantly rested upon her. She was -evidently very anxious, and the journey through the night had told upon -her. Nevertheless I was more and more impressed by the thought of her -beauty. And yet, as I thought, there was but little tenderness in her -beauty. Her face was set, almost rigid, a look of determination -constantly revealed itself, and she seemed to be thinking deeply. - -"The Killigrews are in the neighbourhood," said Uncle Anthony when the -simple meal had been eaten. "They will know that you are near. They will -have seen the lame horse you left on the road." - -"But how will they know I have not gone on?" This she said like one -impatient. - -"They be keen men these Killigrews, and hard riders. They were only a -few miles behind. If you had continued on horseback they would have seen -you; this they will be sure to know." - -"It will be well to start immediately after dark," I suggested. "We must -take a circuitous route. I know of a safe hiding-place in the west of -the county. Once there it will be easy to find out whether it will be -safe for you to go to Polperro's home." - -Her eyes flashed angrily into mine, but she gave no answer. I felt her -behaviour to be a poor reward for the service I had rendered, and a -bitter feeling came into my heart. Then I thought of what my suggestion -meant, and my eyes dropped. Still I went on, unheeding the cool -reception she gave to my words. - -"I am sure you will be safe in the place I have in my mind," I said, "it -is in the neighbourhood where the Killigrews dare not come. For Hugh -Boscawen lives close by, and he has armed many men to protect the King -against the Pretender. If the Killigrews came there methinks it would go -ill with them. At present I am afraid it would be unsafe for you to seek -John Polperro's aid." - -"Would you place me under Hugh Boscawen's care?" she asked. - -"That would scarcely be wise," I replied stammeringly. - -"With whom would you place me then?" - -"I know an old squire who lives near him," I replied. "He would do -anything for me." - -She lifted her eyes to my face, and looked steadily at me. - -"What is his name?" she asked. - -I tried to utter Peter Trevisa's name, but I could not. Again she put a -weight upon my tongue, just as when I stood close to her on the top of -Endellion House. I mumbled some words indistinctly, and cursed myself -for being such a fool. Why could I not brazen out the matter as I had -intended? Was I to be again beaten by this chit of a girl? - -She was silent for a few seconds; then she spoke again. - -"Master Penryn, or whatever your name may be," she said, still keeping -her eyes steadily upon me, "will you tell me why you have sought to help -me away from the Killigrews?" - -"Have not my actions told you?" I stammered. - -"Told me what?" - -"That I desire to be a friend to you." - -"I have tried to believe so," was her answer. "I have tried to trust -you, but I cannot. If you would be my friend, tell me plainly what led -you to Endellion. Tell me why you kept silence when I asked you the -other night. I need a friend--sadly. I am hedged around by those who -seek to do me ill. But I cannot trust a man who by every action betrays -an evil purpose." - -"Methinks you trusted me to fight Benet Killigrew," I retorted. "You -trusted me to bring you so far. Have I betrayed that trust?" - -"I will be frank with you," was her answer. "When I heard of your -answers to Otho, when I was told that you preferred imprisonment rather -than promise him that you would not seek to set me at liberty, I doubted -myself. I thought I had been unjust to you. I wrote and told you so. -When I heard of your escape through mastering Benet, and thought of what -it meant, I doubted myself more still. As you know, I was in sore -straits, and when I heard of what my maid told me, I could not believe -that a gentleman would prove false to a defenceless maid. Thus I risked -everything in my desire for freedom, and because I was trying to believe -in you. I believed in you as you fought Benet; but when we were alone -together I shrunk from you in spite of myself. I seemed to see the mask -that you wore. Perchance I appear ungrateful, for indeed, you have so -far behaved as a man of honour should, but every minute my heart is -telling me that you are a traitor, and that you have purposes of your -own of which you dare not speak." - -As she spoke, it seemed as though my heart were laid bare to her gaze. I -saw myself a miserable spy, a traitor to the name I bore. I cursed -myself for having aught to do with the maid who was so wise, and wished -that I had spurned Peter Trevisa's overtures. Moreover anger burnt in my -heart against her, and my tongue was unloosed. Unmindful of consequence -I answered her in wrath. - -"You call me a traitor," I cried, "because I do not flatter and favour; -because I do not make love to you like Otho Killigrew or his brother -Benet. You trust John Polperro rather than me, because he comes with -honeyed words telling of a love which perchance he doth not feel. Benet -Killigrew would take you from Endellion because he would marry you and -your estates. Otho got a priest to come there with the same end in view. -Polperro is smooth-spoken, but would he render Nancy Molesworth the -service he promises if Restormel did not exist? Well, I come to you with -no honeyed words. I do not tell you that I love you, for in truth I do -not. I love no woman, and will end my life without taking a wife. But am -I a traitor because of that? You accuse me of not telling you all that -is in my mind. Cannot a man have an honourable secret? May I not have -honourable purposes and yet not be able to divulge them? This accusation -seems a poor reward to a man who hath endangered both liberty and life -to bring you so far." - -I saw that my answer had its effect. Her lips quivered and her eyes -became softer. - -"I am not forgetful of your services, and perchance I am unkind, but in -all my life my heart hath never told me wrong," she said. "All the same -I will trust you if you will answer me one fair question. If you had a -sister, a dear one, in such dire extremity as I am, would you have her -done by as you have it in your heart to do by me?" - -Again I was tongue-tied, and my eyes fell before hers. I thought of her -as being the wife of young Peter Trevisa, I thought of the net which the -two Trevisas were probably trying to weave around her just then, and I -stood dumb, like a boy caught in the act of stealing. - -The maid gave a sigh, and then as I lifted my eyes to hers again I saw a -look of loathing and disgust on her face. - -"I have heard of you as having two names," she said, and I detected -scorn in her tones. "You have called yourself Penryn, and I have heard -that you are a Trevanion. They are both honourable. But I dare not trust -you, because you are unworthy of either. I would thank you if I could -for bringing me here, but I cannot, for there is that in your mind which -means worse to me than being the wife of a Killigrew." - -"I am dismissed then?" I cried in a rage--"dismissed like a disgraced -servant. Well, let it be so." - -"Yes," she cried, "I know you now, and I would rather trust to the -mercies of the Killigrews than to one who, under the guise of -friendship, would use the one who sought his help in order to carry out -some base purpose of his own." - -With these words, she left the little room, and went into the chapel -where I had spent most of the morning with Uncle Anthony. The maid had -maddened me now. I felt no sympathy with her. Hitherto my mind and heart -had been divided. Sometimes I had altogether made up my mind to place -her under the protection of John Polperro, and never had I fully decided -to take her to Peter Trevisa's. Indeed, I believe that had she wept and -prayed like some maidens would have done, aye, had she appealed to my -honour as a gentleman, I should at all hazards have been led by her -will. But now all was different. She had defied me, insulted me. She had -refused to have aught further to do with me. She preferred being taken -back to Endellion, to being left under my escort. - -"Very well, my proud lady," I thought, "but you have not done with me -yet. You _shall_ go to Peter Trevisa's, and neither the Killigrews, John -Polperro, nor Uncle Anthony shall prevent me from taking you." - -And this I determined because I was mad, and because, in spite of the -fact that her accusation was partly just, her words rankled in my heart. - -But I knew that I must be wary. I knew that Uncle Anthony was watching -me closely, so I feigned to take my dismissal kindly. - -"Be it so," I laughed; "I am always glad to be rid of women. I will -leave you shortly, Uncle Anthony, but this bout with the maid hath tired -me more than wrestling, and me thinks I will rest awhile." This I said -because I wanted an excuse for staying on the rock. - -"That is well," said Uncle Anthony kindly. "We must not be hard on the -maid; perchance she will think better of you presently. I will go and -fetch the pallet from the chapel." - -"And, Uncle Anthony," I said with a laugh, "hermit though you are, you -must surely have a bottle of wine somewhere." - -"Think you so?" replied the old man. "Well, I will see." - -He shortly returned with wine, which I drank. After which I lay down, -not thinking of going to sleep, but rather to wait and watch. Presently, -however, a drowsy feeling came over me, which I felt no inclination to -resist, and before long I became unconscious. - -When I awoke, it was dark. I listened, but could hear no sound. I went -into the chapel, and found it empty; I called aloud, but got no reply. -Then I realized what had happened. While I had been asleep Uncle Anthony -had escaped with the maid, and both were doubtless many miles away. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE WISDOM OF GOSSIPING WITH AN INNKEEPER. - - -I had been beaten. I knew it, and the fact maddened me. The old hermit -and the maid had divined the thoughts in my mind. In all probability the -wine I had drunk was drugged. Thus while I was asleep, they had gone -away, leaving me alone on the lonely rock. Which way had they gone? I -knew not. They in the silence of the night had left me, leaving me in -entire ignorance. - -I looked from the chapel window, and saw a vast tract of country around -me, for the moon had risen high in the heavens; then, yielding to the -impulse of the moment, I climbed to the highest peak on the great mass -of stone. From this point I could see far in all directions, but no -signs of life were visible. I could see Roche church tower among the -trees, I could see the little village near. For the rest, nothing was in -sight save vast stretches of moorland. Here and there was a cultivated -field, but mostly the country-side was barren and forsaken. - -I listened, but all was silent. The night was very calm, save for a -sighing wind which as it entered a valley near made a low moaning sound. -For a moment a superstitious dread laid hold on me. I remembered the -story I had been told years before. It was said that the last heir of -the Tregarrick family, on whose lands the rock stood, became weary of -life, built the chapel in which old Anthony had taken up his abode, and -called it St. Michael's Chapel. Here he lived many years and died in -sorrow. Rumour also had it that Tregeagle's spirit, that ogre of Cornish -childhood, haunted the rock and the moors, and often breathed forth his -sorrow in sighs and moans. But I mastered my fears by an effort. I -remembered how I had been beaten, and anger drove all other feelings -away. The last heir of the Tregarricks and the Spirit of Tregeagle was -nothing to me, living or dead. - -I looked at my watch, and by the light of the moon discovered that it -was midnight. I had, therefore, been asleep for ten hours. Darkness came -on about six o'clock, so that in all probability they had left me long -hours before. I racked my brains sorely in order to divine the direction -they had taken, but without avail. Then I remembered that they must need -horses, and wondered how they managed. I felt sure, however, that Uncle -Anthony would be too full of devices to remain long in difficulty about -horseflesh. As he had said, many horses grazed among the moors; they -were of no great value, but doubtless he could obtain a couple that -would serve his purpose. One they had already, on which Amelia Lanteglos -had ridden, a useful animal which Benet Killigrew had taken from his -father's stables. This set me thinking again, and without more ado I -cautiously crept down to the moors. Giving a long shrill whistle which I -had taught Chestnut to obey, I awaited results. In a few seconds I -heard the sound of horse's hoofs; then in a short space of time the -animal I had learnt to love came up to me, and with a whinny of gladness -began to lick my hand. - -"Ah, Chestnut, old boy," I laughed, "at any rate they could not steal -you from me. Which way are they gone, my lad?" - -As though he understood me, he turned his head southward. - -"Well, Chestnut," I said, "I want to find them badly. You know which way -they went. I leave everything to you." - -Whereupon, I went to the hollow place under the rock into which I had -thrown my saddle, and to my delight I found that Uncle Anthony had left -both saddle and bridle untouched. A few seconds later I was on -Chestnut's back. - -"Follow them, Chestnut," I said; "I leave everything to you," and as -though he understood me, he carefully picked his way among the rocks -till he reached the highway, then without hesitation went westward -towards the church. Presently we came to some cross-ways, where he -hesitated, but only for a second. Putting his nose to the ground he -sniffed uneasily around and then started on a brisk trot southward. - -When I had gone perhaps three miles, all my hopes had departed. If the -truth must be told, too, I felt more and more like giving up what seemed -a useless quest. In spite of Chestnut choosing the southward road in -preference to any other, I was very probably riding away from the maid -Nancy and her companions, and even if I were not, what should I gain by -following them? - -"Let her go," I cried bitterly. "It has been an ill game I have been -playing--an ill game. Let Uncle Anthony take her whither he will." - -But this feeling did not long possess me. For the first time since I had -seen the maid, the promise I had made to Peter Trevisa became really -binding; moreover, I hated the thought of being beaten. If I gave up at -this point, I should never cease to reproach myself with being outwitted -by a girl, and it was not my nature to accept defeat easily. Besides, I -was curious to see what the end of the business would be. In spite of -myself I was interested in the maid. I admired her coolness and her -far-sightedness. Even though I was angry with her for calling me a -traitor, her very feeling of distrust of me made me sure she was no -ordinary schoolgirl. Nay, I carried my conclusions further. The -intuition that warned her against deceit, the power by which she made me -stammer like a boy, and hang my head like a thief, convinced me that -here was a pure-hearted maid, and one who might be trusted. - -A little later I came to St. Denis, but, as Chestnut showed no -inclination to halt, I rode straight on. I did not guide him in the -least, and although I felt myself foolish in allowing him to take the -St. Stephen's road, I laid no weight on the bridle rein. - -While passing through a little hamlet called Trethosa, the morning began -to dawn, and by the time I had reached St. Stephen's it was broad -daylight. I found a little inn in the village close by the churchyard -gates, called the King's Arms. Here, in spite of the fact that Chestnut -seemed as if he would go on, I stopped. The truth was, I felt hungry and -faint, and I knew that my horse would be all the better for a gallon or -two of oats and a good grooming. The landlord's name I discovered to be -Bill Best, and I found him very communicative, which is not a common -trait among Cornishmen. He told me his history with great freedom, also -that of his wife. He related to me the circumstances of his courtship, -and mentioned the amount of his wife's dowry. - -"'Tis a grand thing to have a good wife," I remarked. - -"'Tes, and ted'n," was his reply. - -I asked him to explain. - -"Well I be a man that do like my slaip, I be. When I caan't slaip ov a -night, I be oal dazey droo the day. Why now I be as dazey as can be. -Ordnarly I be a very cute man, avin a oncommon amount of sense. Ax our -passon. Why, 'ee'll tell 'ee that as a boy I cud leck off catechism like -bread'n trycle. But since I've bin married I caan't slaip." - -"Why, does your wife keep you awake?" - -"No, ted'n that. Tes the cheldern. But my Betsey cud slaip through a -earthquake, and zo tes, that all droo the night there's a passel of -cheldern squallin, keepin' me wake. Laast night, now, I 'ardly slaiped -for the night." - -"Indeed," I replied, "and was it your children last night?" - -"Paartly," he replied, "paartly the cheldern, and paartly summin else. -Be you a gover'ment man?" - -"No." - -"Nothin' toal of a passon nuther, I spects?" - -"No, why?" - -"Well now I'll tell 'ee. But law, ere be your 'am rashers and eggs. -Haive to em now. They rashers ded cum from a pig thirty-score wight, the -beggest in this parish. Look top the graavy too; they'll make yore uzzle -like a trumpet fer sweetness. Ait em and I'll tell 'ee while you be -feedin'. But law, ther's nuff fer boath ov us, I can allays craake -better wen I'm aitin'." - -Accordingly he sat down by my side and helped himself liberally. - -"Well, naow, as I woz a-zayin'," he continued, "I ded'n go to bed till -laate laast night. I was avin a bit of tolk weth the 'ow'll Martin ovver -to Kernick. Do you know Martin?" - -"No." - -"Doan't 'ee fer sure, then? He's a purty booy, 'ee es. Years agone 'ee -used to stail sheep in a coffin. Stoal scores an scores that way. Ave -'ee 'eerd ow 'ee nacked ovver the exciseman, then?" - -"No." - -"Ded'n 'ee? law, that wos a purty taale, that wos. 'Twud maake 'ee scat -yer zides weth laffin. But there, you genlemen waan't care to do that. -Wot wos us talkin' bout, then?" - -"You said you couldn't sleep last night." - -"To be zure I ded. I'll tell 'ee. Old Martin do do a bit ov smugglin', -and do dail weth the smugglers, and as you be'ant a gover'ment man I may -tell 'ee that he brought me a vew ankers of things laast night laate. He -ded'n laive me till after twelve o'clock. Well, when 'ee wos gone off I -went to bed, and wos just going off to slaip when our Tryphena beginned -a squall. That zet off Casteena, and Casteena off Tamzin, and in a vew -minutes the 'ouse wos like Bedlam. You be'ant married, be 'ee, sur?" - -"No." - -"Then you doan knaw nothin bout life, you doan't. Gor jay! ow they -cheldern ded screech for sure. But they ded'n waake mauther, not they. -She slaiped through et oal, and snored like a tomcat into the bargain. -Aw she's a gefted wumman, my wife es. But owsummever, I got em off again -arter a bit and got into bed again. I wos just gittin braave'n slaipy -when I 'eerd the sound of osses comin from Kernick way. 'Gor jay!' ses -I, 'tes the exciseman! He've bin fer ould Martin and now he's comin fer -me.'" - -At this I became interested. "The sound of horses," I said; "were they -coming fast?" - -"Aw iss, braave coose, but not gallopin'. Well I lied luff and wos oal -ov a sweat, but twadd'n no excisemen t'oal, fer just as they got by the -church gates they stopped for a minit." - -"What time was this?" - -"Aw 'bout haaf-past two or dree o'clock. Well, I 'eerd 'em talkin', and -arter a bit I 'eerd a wumman spaik, so you may be sure I pricked up my -ears like a greyhound when he do 'ear a spaniel yelp among the vuss -bushes. So up I gits and looks out." - -"Well, and what did you see?" - -"A man and two wimmen." - -"Ah!" I cried. - -"Well, they ded'n stay long, for one of the wimmen zaid they wos -vollied. She must a 'ad sharp ears, for I ded'n 'ear nothin'." - -"Which way did they go?" - -"They zeemed unaisy, when I 'eerd the man zay they wud go on to -Scacewater, an' then turn back to Penhale." - -"Well?" I cried eagerly, "go on." - -"Aw, I thot I cud maake 'ee hark. Well, I 'eerd em go up by Sentry, and -then go on Terras way, purty coose." - -"Is that all?" - -"Well, after that I cudden slaip, and I jist lied and lied for long -time, and then I'eerd sum more osses comin'. 'Gor jay!' ses I, 'wot's -the mainen ov this?' I got out abed again, mauther slaipin' oal the -time, and arkened with oal the ears I 'ad." - -"And what happened?" - -"Why, I zeed three hossmen ride long, and they galloped arter the others -as ef they'd knawed which way they went." - -"And is that all?" - -"Ed'n that nuff? I cudden slaip a wink arterwards. Fust, I thot they -might be the French, then I thot they might be ghoasts, but I tell 'ee -it maade me oal luny, and 'eer I be this mornin', weth not aaf my -sharpness. Wy I tell 'ee, sur, I be a uncommon man ordnarly." - -I asked the landlord many other questions, but although he informed me -many things about the roads, he could tell me nothing more about the -midnight travellers. However, I had heard enough to assure me that I had -come on the track of my late companions, and I was also assured that the -maid Nancy was being pursued by the Killigrews. - -"Where and what is Penhale?" I asked presently. - -"Penhale, sur, is one of the five manor 'ouses in the parish. Maaster -Trewint es the oaner ov et. It 'ave bin in the family for scores a -years." - -"I wonder if that will be one of Uncle Anthony's hiding-places?" I -mused, "if it is, he hath doubtless taken Mistress Nancy there, and is -probably there now, unless the Killigrews have relieved him of his -charge." - -"Is Trewint the squire of your parish?" I asked Bill Best. - -"Well, sur, ther eden no squire so to spaik. But 'ees a well-connected -man, sur. Why, he do belong to the Tregarrick family, which ded once own -oal Roche." - -This set me thinking again. Uncle Anthony had told me that he was a -gentleman; he had hinted that his family was as good as my own Why had -he taken up his abode at Roche Rock, which had belonged to the -Tregarricks? Was there any meaning in his going to Mr. Trewint, who was -related to the Tregarricks? These and many other questions troubled me -for a long time. - -After considering the whole situation for an hour or more, I determined -to find my way to Penhale and there make inquiries. I thought it better -to go there afoot, first because the distance was scarcely two miles, -and second because I desired to attract no attention. Leaving the Manor -House of Resugga on my left, I walked on until I came to a little wooded -dell in which two houses were built. Here I stayed awhile, arrested by -the beauty of the scene. The place was called Terras, and was very fair -to look upon. A little stream purled its way down the valley, under -giant trees, and filled as my mind was with many things, I could but -stop and listen to the music of the water as it mingled with the sound -of rustling leaves overhead. As I passed on, I saw the miners working in -the moors. They were tin-streamers, and were, so I was told, making -riches rapidly. After this I stopped at a farm called Trelyon, from -whence I could see Trelyon Downs. Here legend had it giants lived, and -streamed the moors for minerals, and made bargains with the devil in -order that success might attend their labours. After leaving Trelyon I -was not long in reaching Penhale, a house of considerable size and -importance, and here I stopped and looked about me. The house was -comparatively new and very substantial, while signs of prosperity were -everywhere to be seen. Fine trees grew all around, and the gardens were -well planted. Evidently a well-to-do yeoman lived here. - -I tried to think of an excuse for entering, but presently gave up the -idea. If Uncle Anthony and Mistress Nancy were there it would not be -well for them to know my whereabouts; and yet if I were to fulfil my -promise to Peter Trevisa, and thus retain Trevanion, I must know if they -were behind the walls which looked as though they might hide mysteries. - -Very soon I bethought me of the stables, and was just starting to find -them, when I saw a well-fed, portly man come out of the front door. - -"Jack," he shouted. - -"Yes, sur," replied a voice. - -"Bring my horse." On saying this he entered the house again. - -The place was perfectly silent, save for the stamping of horses' hoofs -and the bleat of sheep in the distance. From the spot on which I stood I -could easily see and hear without being seen. - -Presently the man, whom I took to be the owner of the place, came to the -door again, and this time some one accompanied him, although whoever it -was kept out of sight. - -"Well, I must be going. You say I shall not be seeing you again." - -I could not hear the murmured reply. - -"Well, have your own way. I have heard of the old chapel and well in St. -Mawgan, where it is said an old priest lives; but man, you are safer -here." - -After this I heard nothing, and a little later the owner of the place -rode away. I waited until he was well out of hearing, when I found my -way to the stables. In the stableyard I saw the man who had brought his -master's horse to the door. - -"Is your master at home?" I asked. - -"No sur; missus es." - -"Ah, well, she'll be of no use. She wouldn't know if Mr. Trewint has a -horse for sale." - -On this I entered the stable, and to my delight saw the animal Amelia -Lanteglos had ridden from Endellion, with two others. - -"Maaster 'aant got noan for sale," replied the man. "We're right in the -tealin' time, and oal the hosses be in use." - -"How's that?" I replied; "here are three doing nothing. One of these -would suit me. I can call again when your master will be at home." - -"It'll be no good, sur. Maaster waant be 'ome till laate to-night. He's -gone to St. Austell market, and afore he do git back thaise hosses'll be -gone. They'll be out of the staable by haalf-past nine this ev'nin'. -I've got oaders to saddle 'em at that time." - -I seemed to be in luck's way. By pure chance, so it seemed to me, I had -found out the whereabouts of Mistress Nancy and her companions, and had -also discovered their destination. So without asking more questions I -left Penhale, and then walked back to St. Stephen's along a footpath -which led by a farm called Tolgarrick, and the Manor House of Resugga. - -I formed my plan of action. I would be even with Uncle Anthony for the -trick he had played me, and I would take the maid Nancy to Peter -Trevisa's house, for both had angered me. And yet even at this time my -heart revolted against the course I had marked out. - -By nine o'clock that night I stood outside Penhale with Chestnut by my -side. I chose a sheltered position, and I felt sure that no one knew I -was there. I waited anxiously, and watched the stable doors closely. -Half-past nine came, and I grew anxious; ten o'clock passed, and all was -silent as the grave. Had the groom deceived me? Had Uncle Anthony -discovered my visit and formed new plans accordingly. - -Bidding Chestnut stand still, I crept cautiously towards the stables. A -few seconds later I saw to my chagrin that I had been outwitted. The -horses I had seen in the morning had gone. - -"Never mind," I said grimly, "I'll not give up yet." - -I mounted Chestnut and rode westward in the direction in which I thought -St. Mawgan lay; but I had not gone far when I again came to a -standstill. If Uncle Anthony had suspected me, and changed the time of -his departure, might he not also alter his plans completely? Besides, -even though he intended going to the old chapel at St. Mawgan, it was -impossible for me to find it that night. Clouds had obscured the sky, -and I was ignorant of the country. At eleven o'clock, therefore, I drew -up at an inn at a village called Summercourt, disappointed and angry. -Here I decided to remain for the night. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -THE HAUNTED CHAPEL OF ST. MAWGAN. - - -I had fully intended to be up betimes on the morning following my -arrival at Summercourt, and although I gave the landlord of the inn no -instructions to call me, I had no doubt but that I should wake early. So -tired was I, however, and so much had my rest been broken, that it was -past midday before I was aroused from the deep sleep into which I had -fallen. Consequently it was well on in the afternoon before I started -for St. Mawgan. I knew that the parish was largely under Catholic -influence. The Arundel family owned a house there, but I had no idea as -to the whereabouts of the chapel. This could only be discovered by -searching, and, impatient with myself for losing so much time, I rode -rapidly past St. Columb, and reached St. Mawgan just as the shades of -evening were descending. I should, doubtless, have accomplished the -journey more quickly if I had not missed my way and wandered several -miles out of my course. Arrived at the parish church, however, I found -that my difficulties had only just begun. I was afraid to make too many -inquiries concerning this chapel, for fear the Killigrews might hear of -my questionings, for, although I had seen no traces of them, I felt sure -they were following Mistress Nancy Molesworth. I found, moreover, that -the few people in the parish were anything but intelligent, and could -give no information of value. At length, after much searching and many -roundabout inquiries, I heard of a haunted dell about a mile and a half -from St. Mawgan, where the devil was said to reside. - -An old farm labourer gave me the information, and with much earnestness -besought me to keep away from it. - -"The devil 'ave allays come there, sur," remarked the old man. "Tes a -very low place. Tes a 'olla (hollow) between two 'oods. The papist -priests ded kip un off while they was 'lowed to live there, but since -the new religion tho'ull Sir Nick have jist done wot 'ee's a mind to." - -"How did the papist priest keep him off?" I asked. - -"Well, sur, they ded build a chapel here, and they ded turn the well ov -water, where the devil made hell broth, into good clain watter. 'Twas a -'oly well when they wos there, sur, so I've been tould. But law, sence -the priests be gone he've gone there to live again, and I've 'eerd as -how ee've bin zid in the chapel." - -"Have you seen him?" - -"I wudden, sur, for worlds; but, Jimmy Jory zid un, sur." - -"And what did he look like?" - -"Jist like a wrinkled-up ould man, sur." - -"And which is the way to this chapel?" - -"'Tis down there, sur," replied the old man, pointing southward; "but -doan't 'ee go nist the plaace, sur, doan't 'ee. 'Tis gittin' dark, an -'ee'l zoon be out now." - -Unwittingly the old labourer had confirmed the words of Mr. Trewint at -Penhale. Evidently a hermit did live at the ruined chapel. Probably he -was one of the few remaining anchorites which were yet to be found in -the county. One of those who, tired of the world, had sought solitude, -even as the last heir of the Tregarricks had sought it, when he built -St. Michael's Chapel on Roche Rock. - -Unmindful, therefore, of the old man's warnings, I found my way down the -valley. The wooded hills sloped up each side of me, which so obscured -the evening light that I had difficulty in finding my way. The place -seemed terribly lonely, I remember; no sound broke the stillness save -the rippling of a little stream of water which ran towards the sea, and -the occasional soughing of the wind among the trees. - -Once, as I stood still and listened, it seemed to me that the very -silence made a noise, and a feeling of terror came over me, for the old -labourer's stories became real. My mission, too, seemed to be more -foolish at each step I took, and in the stillness I seemed to hear -voices bidding me return. Nature had given me strong nerves, however, -and presently the spirit of adventure got hold of me again, and then I -pushed on merrily. I had gone perhaps a mile from St. Mawgan when I saw, -in spite of the gathering darkness, a distinct footpath leading -southward. This I followed, although the valley became darker and -darker. By and by, however, it ended in a little green amphitheatre. -This I judged to be about ten yards across, and the only outlet was the -pathway by which I had just come. The little open space, however, was a -relief to me, because the evening light was not altogether shut out, and -I looked eagerly around me in the hope that I had arrived at the spot -for which I had been searching. - -Twice did I wander around the green spot, but the trees which grew -around were so thick that I could discover nothing beyond them. - -"It must be all an idle tale," I mused bitterly, "and I've been a dupe -to silly stories. Why should I trouble more? I'll go back to the inn at -St. Mawgan, get Chestnut saddled, and start for London to-morrow"; but -even as the thought passed through my mind, I saw a dark bent form creep -along the grass, and then was hidden from me by the thick undergrowth. - -Without hesitation I made my way to the spot where the dark object had -disappeared, and then saw a slight clearage in the bushes, which had -before escaped my attention. A few seconds later I had entered another -open place, but it was smaller than the other, and situated at the foot -of the rising ground. I again looked around me, but could see nothing, -and was musing as to the course I should take, when I heard a slight -groan. I hurried to the spot from whence the sound came, drawing my -sword as I did so. I did not go far, however, for I saw, almost hidden -by the trees, a dark building. - -"Hallo!" I cried aloud. - -But there was no answering voice. - -"There is some one here," I said; "speak, or I fire." - -"What would you, Roger Trevanion?" said a strange voice. - -I must confess that my heart gave a bound as I heard my own name in this -lonely place, but I quickly mastered myself. - -"I would see you," I replied. - -"You cannot see spirits of just men made perfect," was the reply. "They -can see you while they remain invisible." - -"We will see," I replied. "I have flint and steel here. I will light up -this place, then perchance I shall find that the living as well as the -dead inhabit the place." - -I heard a low murmuring, then the voice replied: "Trouble not yourself, -Roger Trevanion, there shall be light," and in a few seconds, as if by -magic, a small lamp shone out in the darkness, revealing several -objects, which at first I could not understand. As my eyes became -accustomed to the darkness, I discovered a rude table on which stood a -crucifix; on the walls too, rough and unplastered as they were, I saw -pictures of a religious order. But my attention was drawn from other -objects by a pallet bed which lay in the corner of the room, on which a -human body lay. - -"Uncle Anthony," I cried, not that I recognized him, but the name came -involuntarily to my lips. - -"Why are you here, Roger Trevanion?" asked a voice which I detected as -Uncle Anthony's. - -"Nay, rather, why are you here?" I cried; "and where is Mistress Nancy -Molesworth?" - -"She is where you will never reach her," he replied, bitterly I -thought, and yet in a feeble tone of voice. - -"What mean you?" I cried, and then I saw that his head was bandaged. - -"I mean that through your faithlessness"--he hesitated as though he knew -not how to proceed. - -"The Killigrews!" I cried. - -"Ay." - -"They overtook you?" - -"Nay, they came here. I did my best, but what was I against three? Once -I thought we should have beaten them, for Mistress Nancy wounded one of -them sorely." - -"But where are they gone? Which way did they take her?" - -"Doubtless to Endellion. Why I tell you this I know not. Had you been -faithful this need not have been." - -"Tell me the whole story," I said at length. - -"Why should I? But it doth not matter now. You can do her no harm, -neither can you save her from the Killigrews. Well, perchance it is -God's will. They are of the true faith, and--and you know most of the -story, Roger Trevanion. You followed us to Penhale; the maid saw you, -and so we left the house earlier than we had intended, and by a road -through the fields. We reached this spot in safety, but they found us. -Otho was with them, and, well, I am no fighter,--I did my best, but they -took her. I--I am wounded in the head--a sword cut." - -Why I knew not, but my heart seemed a hot fire. - -"And is Mistress Nancy gone with these three Killigrews--alone?" - -"Her serving-maid, Amelia, cried out to go with her, and they took her." - -"Ah!" I cried, relieved. - -He gave me details of the struggle, which I need not write down here, -and which I thought, in spite of the fact that he seemed to hide the -truth, told that he had fought well. - -"And did not this hermit help you?" - -"Michael is weaker than a child," replied Anthony, "he did nothing but -pray." - -"And how long since this took place?" - -"Four hours ago." - -"Four hours!--only?" - -"That is all." - -"They can be followed, she can be delivered!" - -"No, no," murmured Uncle Anthony; "tell me, Roger Trevanion, why would -you deliver her?" - -"Because, because!----" then I stopped, I could not formulate the -thought in my mind. "Did she go willingly?" I asked. - -"Nay," cried the old man bitterly, "I--I think they gagged her; they -bound her to her horse. She cried out sorely while she could, she -struggled--and I--I could do nothing." - -My blood ran through my veins like streams of fire; there were many -questions I wanted to ask, but there was no time. I seemed to see her -struggling with the Killigrews. I pictured her look of loathing as she -talked with them. - -"Trevanion or no Trevanion," I cried, as I hurried up the valley, "I'll -strike another blow for the maid's liberty. I know she doth not trust -me; but I'll free her from Otho Killigrew. Some one must have seen -her--I'll follow them. They cannot well get beyond Padstow to-night!" - -A little later I had taken the road which the landlord of the inn at St. -Mawgan had told me led to Padstow. I rode hard till I came to a roadside -inn. It was the first house I had noticed since I had left Mawgan. A -light was shining from one of the windows, and I decided to stop. - -"If they have passed here some one will have seen them," I mused, "and I -must not go farther without inquiry." - -I accordingly dismounted, and called for the landlord. An elderly man -appeared, and in the light of the moon, which had just risen, I saw that -his shoulders were bent, and that he craned his neck forward while he -scanned my face. - -"What'll 'ee plaise to 'ave, sur?" he asked in a wheedling tone of -voice. - -"A bottle of wine," I replied. - -"Iss, to be sure, I'll tell 'em, sur. Your hoss do look flighty, sur. -You wa'ant caare to laive un." - -"He will stand quietly," I replied; "but I'll fasten him to your crook -here. I should not advise you to go near him." - -"You be'ant comin' in, sur, be 'ee?" - -"Just a minute," I replied. - -"Ah iss, to be sure," he answered, leading the way into a dark room. - -"But you have a room with a light here," I objected, as he pushed a -candle into a smouldering fire. - -"Iss, sur, but tes used, sur. To tell the truth, sur, for I can zee you -be a gen'leman, my wife's sister is there. She's terble bad weth -small-pox, sur." - -"Small-pox!" I cried aghast. - -"Aw, iss, sur. I doan't go ther' myself, and tes makin' terble 'ard agin -my custom." - -All the while he was pulling out the cork from a bottle of wine. - -"I don't think I'll stay to drink," I said, thinking of the man's -statement about his wife's sister. "Of course I'll pay for it," I added, -noting the look of chagrin on his face. - -"You be a rail gen'leman," he remarked, as I threw down a guinea. - -"Have you been away from the house to-day?" I asked. - -"No, sur." - -"Have you noticed a party on horseback ride by this afternoon?" - -"What time would it be, sur?" - -"About four o'clock, I should imagine." - -"No, sur, there ain't no party of no sort gone long 'ere." - -"You are quite sure?" - -"Iss, sur. Be you lookin' out for a party, sur?" - -"Yes," I replied, "but I must have been misinformed." - -"How many was in the party, sur?" - -"Why?" - -"Well, Bill Bennetto, Maaster Veryan's hind, was over here little while -ago, and he zaid as ow 'ee'd zeed a party of five ride through St. Eval. -Ther' wos three gentlemen and two laadies, sur. They wos ridin' 'ard for -Padstow, 'ee zaid." - -"What time was this?" - -"'Bout fower a clock, sur. Praps that was the lot you was wantin'." - -"How far is it from here to Padstow." - -"Oa ten or twelve mile, I shud think." - -"A straight road?" - -"Aw, iss, you can't miss et." - -Glad to get out of the house infected with small-pox, I contented myself -with this information, and a few seconds later I was on Chestnut's back -again, riding northward. I had gone only a short distance, however, when -I came to a junction of roads. Here a difficulty presented itself, for I -knew not which way to take. - -"What did the fellow mean by telling me it was a straight road?" I -grumbled angrily, and then it struck me suddenly that he seemed very -anxious for me to leave his house. I looked eagerly around me in the -hope of getting out of my difficulty, but it was a lonely place, and no -houses were in sight. Presently, however, I saw a light shining, and -making my way towards it, discovered a cottage. - -"Which is the way to Padstow?" I asked of a man who held a lantern in -his hand, and who evidently lived at the cottage. - -"Dunnaw, sur, I be sure. I speck the best way will be for 'ee to go to -Little Petherick and inquire." - -"Is it a straight road?" - -"Lor bless 'ee, sur, no. 'Tes as crooked as a dog's hind leg." - -I wondered at this, and asked the man if he knew the landlord of the -Farmer's Rest. - -"Aw, iss I do knaw un, sur." - -"What kind of a man is he?" - -"A littlish man, with a long neck like a gander, and sharp eyes like a -rat." - -"Yes, I know, but is he a respectable man!" - -"Iss, 'ee've saved a braavish bit of money. I do 'ear as how 'ee've got -vour hundred in Tura Bank." - -"His wife's sister has small-pox, hasn't she?" - -"What do 'ee main, sur?" - -I repeated my question. - -"Why, bless 'ee, sur, his wife aan't got no sister. She's Jenny Johnses -onnly darter. As fur small-pox, I never 'eerd tell o' noan." - -Giving the man a piece of money, I rode back towards the Farmer's Rest -again. Evidently the landlord had been purposely deceiving me. Why? My -heart thumped loudly against my ribs, for I had grave suspicion that he -desired to hide something from me. I made my way very quietly to the -house. If he had reasons for deceiving me, it behoved me to be careful. -I saw that the light still shone from the window of the room in which -the landlord said his wife's sister lay. Telling Chestnut to stand -still, I crept silently towards the house. I saw that the door was -closed, and although I listened intently I could hear no sound. Placing -my hand on the door handle, I was about to try and open it, when I saw -a woman come from a building close by which was evidently used as a -washhouse. She did not see me, neither did she come to the front door at -which I stood. As far as I could judge, she was making her way to the -yard at the back of the inn. - -"Surely," I thought, "that is Amelia Lanteglos." - -I started to follow her, when, the girl hearing my step turned around, -and I saw that I was right. - -"Amelia," I whispered. - -"Good Lord, sur, is that you?" was her answer. - -"Yes, where is your mistress?" - -"Aw, I be glad, I be glad," she sobbed, "we've 'ad a terble time, sur--a -terble time." - -"Is your mistress ill?" I asked. - -"She'll go mazed zoon." - -"Why?" - -She looked anxiously around, and then turned towards me again. - -"Ther's nobody harkenin', nobody do knaw you be 'ere, sur, do mun?" - -"No one. I called here less than an hour ago, and the landlord told me -that his wife's sister had small-pox. So I rode away, but I found out -that he told me false. That's why I've come back again. No one has seen -me but you." - -"And you be my young missus' friend, be'ant 'ee, sur? You doan't main -she no 'arm." - -"No." - -"Then I'll tell 'ee, sur. She's inside there weth Master Otho." - -I suspected this, so waited for her to proceed. - -"Colman es in the 'ouse too, sur; but 'ee's in bed. Mistress Nancy ded -fire a pistol at un, and 'urt 'es arm. That was when Uncle Anthony was -weth us." - -"But there were three." - -"Iss, sur. Maaster Clement es gone to Padstow." - -"What for." - -"Gone to fetch the priest, sur." - -"Why? To marry Otho to your mistress?" - -The maid sobbed. "She'll go mazed, sur. She's in ther weth Maaster Otho. -You do knaw his way, sur. I believe he'll jist frighten her till she do -marry un." - -"But why did they stop here?" - -"'Twas on account of Mistress Nancy, sur. She made out to faint an like -that, sur, thinkin to gain time. But Maaster Otho can't be aisy bait. He -brought her here, and ded send Clement off for the priest. Besides, -Maaster Colman could hardly sit on the hoss." - -I saw the danger. In the then condition of the marriage laws, the maid -Nancy was practically helpless. If the priest went through a form of -service, even without the maid's assent, Otho could, by means of the -testimony of the landlord of the inn, claim that a legal marriage had -taken place. What was to be done, therefore, would have to be done -quickly. - -"Where are your horses, Amelia?" - -She pointed to the house in which they were stabled. - -"You can saddle them without any one knowing?" - -"Aw, iss sur." - -"Do, then." - -With that I turned towards the front door of the inn again; and I must -here confess that I hugely enjoyed the situation. The love of adventure -was strong upon me, and I laughed at the thought of thwarting the -Killigrews. I owed the landlord a debt for deceiving me. I therefore -went to the spot where I had left Chestnut, and, having taken some stout -cord from my saddlebag, came back, and, on trying to open the door, -found it barred. Then I knocked sharply. - -"Who's there?" It was Boundy, the landlord, who spoke. - -"Come, Boundy," I cried, "open the door quick; there's no time to lose." - -"Es that you, sur?" he responded, and immediately drew back the bolts. -No sooner had he done so than I caught him and dragged him outside. - -"Make a sound, and you are a dead man!" I said, in a whisper. - -Something in my voice, I suppose, told him that I meant what I said, for -he made no sound, neither did he struggle when I bound him hand and -foot. He was no stronger than a lad of twelve, and very little heavier. -I therefore took him to the stables, where Amelia Lanteglos had gone. - -"Amelia," I said, "here's the landlord. You need not be afraid. He's -bound. But if he makes a noise, stuff some hay in his mouth." - -The girl grasped the situation in a second. "Oal right, sur," she said -with a grin, and I knew I could trust her. Then I went back and entered -the inn, closing the door after me, and silently bolting it. I heard the -murmuring of women in the kitchen behind; evidently they knew nothing of -what had taken place. After this I made my way to the room in which Otho -Killigrew had taken Mistress Nancy Molesworth. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE SCENE AT A WAYSIDE INN. - - -I was about to knock when I heard the sound of voices. - -"And do you think," I heard a voice say, which I recognized as Mistress -Nancy's, "that although you force me into this marriage, I shall really -be your wife?" - -"Ay, that you will." It was Otho who spoke in his low, mocking way. - -"But I will not be your wife. I despise you, loathe you." - -"That feeling will soon pass away when you are the wife of Otho -Killigrew. You will love me all the more for being so determined to have -you. And I--well, I would a thousand times rather have this than an -ordinary wedding. Clement and Father O'Brien will soon be here. I -thought I heard his voice a few seconds ago." - -"But I will die sooner than wed you!" - -"Ah, I like to see your eyes shine like that. It makes you more -handsome than ever. With me as master, and you as mistress of Restormel, -we shall be much sought after in the county." - -"Is this the act of a gentleman, Otho Killigrew? The very gypsies will -cry out against you as a mean knave." - -"It is the act of a gentleman," replied Otho coolly. "You had every -opportunity to wed me in a way befitting your station, but you would not -have it so. You trusted to a trickster, and thereby sadly compromised -your reputation. Now I must treat you as I am obliged. You should be -thankful that I am willing to wed you after such conduct." - -"I would I had trusted the man you call a trickster!" cried the maid -bitterly, at which it flashed upon me that I was playing the part of an -eavesdropper. True, I felt justified in listening, at the same time I -felt uncomfortable, and was about to knock at the door when his words -arrested me again. - -"Come, Nancy, let us act reasonably. If you will promise to go to -Endellion with me, and wed me there, we will have done with this method -of going on. Let me have a kiss and we will be friends." - -He evidently laid hands on her as he spoke, for the maid cried out. At -this I was unable to control myself, and I pushed the door with so much -vehemence that the rusty hinges gave way, and I entered the room. - -Even at that time I noticed that the apartment was bare of all -furniture, save for a few straight-back chairs and a rickety table. -Mistress Nancy stood at one corner of the room, her eyes flashing -fiercely and her face as pale as death. Otho was holding one of her -hands, but on hearing the noise of my entrance had turned his face -angrily towards me. - -I knew I dared not give him time, for doubtless he carried dagger and -pistols, and would use them without hesitation. I therefore leapt upon -him, and in a second we were engaged in a mad struggle. As for the maid, -she gave another cry which I thought told of her joy at my coming. - -Maddened, desperate as he was, I soon discovered that I had not his -brother Benet to deal with. He availed himself of all sorts of -wrestler's tricks, and tried to use his knife, but it was no use. In a -few seconds I had thrown him heavily on the floor. He lay stunned, but -this I knew would not be for long. - -"Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said, turning panting to the maid, "will -you trust me now?" - -She looked piteously into my face. "Dare I?" she cried; "I am all alone, -I have no one to help me. I would rather die than wed him," and she gave -a look of loathing towards Otho. "May I trust you?" - -"You may," I said eagerly, and at that moment I felt a joy in -sacrificing Trevanion rather than carrying out Peter Trevisa's wishes. -"As God is above us, I will take you wherever you wish to go, and I give -my life to see that no harm happens to you!" and this I said like one -compelled, for my words seemed to be dragged from me by some wondrous -power which the maid possessed. - -She caught my hand eagerly. Her eyes seemed to burn like live coals, and -as I thought she looked into the very depth of my life. - -"Yes, I will trust you," she cried, "and I will bless you forever. But -can you take me away. These men seem to have friends everywhere." - -"I can, and I will," I cried eagerly, for at that time my heart was hot, -and I felt no weakness. "Come quickly," I continued, "I have prepared my -plans." Then turning around I saw two women in the room, evidently the -landlord's wife and a servant-maid. - -"What do 'ee main? who be you?" screamed one of the women. - -But I took no heed. Mistress Nancy caught some clothing which she had -thrown on the table, and although the woman tried to bar the doorway, I -led her out. All this time Otho had been lying on the floor like one -dead. - -I went to the door which I had bolted, and was about to open it, but I -desisted, for I heard the clatter of horses' hoofs. For a moment my -heart sank within me; I felt sure that Colman Killigrew had returned -with the priest. If that were so, I should be one against many. The maid -Nancy had also heard the noise, for her face was piteous to behold. - -"'Tis they, 'tis they," she cried. "Oh, you will not let me fall into -their hands, will you?" - -It was then that I realized the secret of my heart. At that moment I -knew that Mistress Nancy Molesworth was all the world to me, and that -all my vows never to care for a woman again were no more than the chaff -which the wind drives away. My blood was on fire, and I vowed that all -the Killigrews on earth should not take her from me. - -"No, by God, no!" I cried, "they shall not get you." - -My words seemed to give her confidence, for she became calmer and steady -again. - -"Give me a pistol," she said, "I will help you." - -At that moment there was a sound of knocking at the door. - -"Let us in!" cried a voice, which I recognized as Clement's, and the -landlord's wife rushed towards the door. Ill as I like to touch a woman -I felt I must not hesitate, and so with no gentle hand I threw her -against the door, whereupon she went into violent hysterics. As for the -servant, she went into the backyard screaming. Seeing a key in the door, -I quickly turned it, and placed it in my pocket. - -"Come, we can follow the servant-maid," I said to Mistress Nancy, but at -that moment Otho Killigrew staggered towards us, with his knife -uplifted. I struck him a cruel blow, but it could not be helped, and -again he fell heavily. Seeing the barrel of a pistol gleaming from his -belt, I took it from him and gave it to the maid. She took it without a -word, and I knew by the light in her eyes that she meant to use it. - -Meanwhile Clement Killigrew kept beating the door, and I knew that he -would ere long succeed in breaking it down. It is true I had cocked my -pistol, while Mistress Nancy held hers ready to shoot, but I knew not -how many were outside, so I dared not wait. I therefore took the dear -maid's hand and led her into the yard. - -"Amelia," I cried. - -"Here you be, sur." - -I hurried towards her, and found two horses saddled. - -"Mount, mount," I cried quickly, "they'll be after us." - -"No, they waan't," retorted Amelia, "I've turned all the other horses -out in the field." - -"And where's Boundy?" - -"Lyin' inside there, weth his mouth chucked vull of hay." - -In spite of our danger, I could not help laughing aloud. - -By this time they had both mounted, and as yet no one had followed us -into the yard. - -"There's another way down to the road," cried Amelia, "it'll bring us -out furder down. Where's yore oss, sur?" - -"He's all right. You are a clever girl, Amelia." This I said while we -went silently down the cart track under the trees. - -On reaching the road I gave a low whistle, and in a second I heard the -clatter of hoofs, as Chestnut came towards me. He gave a whinney as he -saw me, but before I could mount I heard a bullet whiz by me, and strike -hazel bushes on the top of the hedge. Then I saw Clement Killigrew and -the priest coming towards us. Great as was my longing to stop and meet -these men, I deemed it prudent to get away as quickly as possible. A new -fear had come into my life, a fear that they should harm the maid Nancy. -I sprang to the stirrup therefore, and before I was fairly on Chestnut's -back he started into a gallop. I checked him for fear I should leave my -companions behind, but I need not have feared. Their horses kept neck to -neck with mine. For a time I could hear no one following, but presently -the sound of horses' hoofs rang out in the night air. - -I stopped and listened. "There is only one horse," I said, and as I -spoke the sound ceased. Again we rode on, and again I could hear the -following horseman; a mile or so farther on we pulled up a second time, -and as soon as we stopped our pursuer also stopped. - -"What is the meaning of that, I wonder?" I said aloud. "We have been -riding more slowly and he has not gained upon us. When we stop he -follows our example. What does it mean?" - -"It is Clement," said Mistress Nancy; "he will have got his orders from -Otho." - -"But why does he not seek to overtake us?" - -"It would not suit his purpose," cried she; "he dare not come too close -to us. He will be afraid. He knows you have pistols. His purpose will be -to keep us in sight and mark where we go." - -"But what good will that do him?" - -"When he thinks we are safely housed, he will send for help." - -"But how?" - -"The Killigrews have followers all around in this part of the country," -she said. "They have friends unknown to you." - -"But we will ride right on to the west of the country, where Hugh -Boscawen is raising men against the enemies of the King." - -"Even there he will have friends. Clement is almost as cunning as Otho." - -"I will go back and fight him," I said quietly. "We will soon be rid of -him." - -"He will know of your coming, and will ride away from you. If you follow -him he will lead you into some trap." - -"But we must be rid of him," I cried; "we shall not be safe while he -follows." - -Then the maid held her peace, but I knew she greatly feared Clement -Killigrew. At this I became anxious, for, truth to tell, I felt awkward -and helpless now. I dared not make other suggestions, because I believed -that in spite of what she had said she still failed to trust me. Then I -had cared little about her good opinion concerning me, now I would dare -anything to win her smile. I determined that no harm should come to her, -for my heart yearned for her, even as the heart of a mother must yearn -for her first-born son. I looked at her as she rode by my side, and in -the light of the moon I could discern every feature. Pale she was and -anxious, but to me her face was glorious beyond compare. I saw -resolution, foresight, a nobleness in her every movement, but all this -made her further removed from me. In the light of my new-found love she -became a new creature. All my being went out to her, all my life I was -ready to lay at her feet. I remembered what I had said on Roche Rock--I -had told her that I cared for no woman, that she was nothing to me but -the veriest stranger. I would have given anything to have recalled those -words, but it could not be. I thought of what I had promised Peter -Trevisa, and I was filled with shame. I tried to drive the promise from -my mind, but it had been made. - -All this made me silent and awkward, and I rode by her side eager to -save her from the Killigrews, yet distrusting myself sorely. - -And yet with my love, painful as it was, came joys unknown to me before. -Never till then had I realized what a gladness it was to live, to think, -to act. The road on which I rode became a scene of beauty, the country -air scented with the perfume of spring seemed to me like a breath from -Paradise, the murmuring of the sea in the distance made heaven near. So -much, indeed, did I live in the thought of my love, and of what she -would think of me, that for the moment I forgot that Clement Killigrew -was following us, as a sleuth-hound follows his prey. In my heart I -called her my lady Nancy, and wondered what I could do to make her think -better of me. For I could not help feeling that she had turned to me as -a last resource, and that even now, should John Polperro appear, she -would immediately dispense with my services. Although I hated this -thought, I could not blame her for it, for who was I that she should -trust me? I remembered, too, that since we left the inn her words to me -had been cool and distant, as though she were ashamed of her emotion at -the time when I found her in the room with Otho Killigrew. - -I was recalled to myself at length by Amelia Lanteglos, who said with a -laugh: - -"Ours be good 'osses, be'ant 'em, sur?" - -"Yes," I replied; "I did not think Uncle Anthony could find such good -ones among the moors." - -"Thaise be'ant Uncle Anthony's. These belong to the Killigrews. The one -I do ride belonged to Maaster Otho, 't'other to Maaster Coleman." - -"Good," I cried, thinking what a quick-witted girl she was. "You are a -clever maid, Amelia." - -"I ain't a-lived 'mong the Killigrews for nothin'!" she said; "besides -I'd do anything for Mistress Nancy." - -Her mistress did not speak, but I noted the look she gave her. - -"He es still follin'," continued Amelia; "we shall 'ave to do summin -zoon. What time es et, I wonder?" - -"About nine o'clock, I expect," I replied. "Ah! yonder is light. I -wonder if it is a kiddleywink?" - -"Why?" asked Mistress Nancy. - -"I hope it is," I replied, for at that moment a plan flashed through my -mind. - -A few minutes later we rode up to a little hamlet consisting of four -houses, one of which was a public house. - -"We will dismount here," I said. - -"To what purpose?" asked Mistress Nancy. - -"I have a plan in my mind," I replied. - -"But if we stop here Clement will act." - -"So will I." - -She spoke no word but dismounted, while I called the landlord. - -"Have you stabling for three horses?" I asked when he appeared. - -"Jist," was his reply. - -"And a room into which these ladies can go; a private room?" - -"Aw, iss, sur. Ther's the pa'lor. They ca' go in theer." - -"Very well." I quickly saw them in the room, and having ordered -refreshments for them I left. I felt as though Mistress Nancy did not -desire my company, and I determined not to force it upon her. Then I -hurried to the stables, where the three horses had been put. - -"Have you a lock to the stable door?" I asked of the man who had taken -care of the horses. - -"Law no, sur; we doan't want no locks. Ther's jist a hasp to kip the -door from blawin' open." - -"Are there no highwaymen or horse-stealers in these parts?" - -"We ain't a 'ad a 'oss stailed for 'ears," was the reply. - -"Well, keep your eye on that stable," I said sternly. "If anything -happens to those horses, you'll be hanged." - -"I'll mind, sur," replied the man; "nobody shall tich 'em. Nobody shall -go into the stable but me;" and I knew by the look of dogged -determination on his face that he meant what he said. - -At this moment I heard the clatter of hoofs, and I hurried into the -house. I saw the landlord go to the door, and heard him say to the -horseman: "No sur, you can't stable yer 'oss. A party 'ave jist come, -sur, and I've only room for dree 'osses." - -"Well, all right," said Clement Killigrew in tones scarcely above a -whisper, "fasten him here to the crook at the door, 'twill be just as -well. I suppose I can have a bottle of wine. By the way, do not let the -other party know I have come here." - -"No, sur, I wa'ant let em knaw, but I a'ant got no wine. A jug of good -ale, sur." - -"All right, that will do;" then he said something in low tones to the -landlord, which I did not hear. - -"All right, sur," I heard the innkeeper say in reply. "I'll 'tend to et, -sur; but you'll 'ave to go into the kitchen among the farmers-men, the -palor is okkipied." - -There was no reply to this, and then Clement Killigrew went into the -kitchen. - -Without hesitation I entered the room after him. All had happened as I -expected. He had followed us to the inn, he had come in quietly, he had -made arrangements with the landlord to take a message to some one near -with whom he doubtless had influence, and now he would wait until help -came. Then he would try and recapture Mistress Nancy and take her back -to Endellion. Consequently, I determined to act at once. My purpose was -to go into the room, and as soon as possible quarrel with him. I knew -that the Killigrews never brooked an insult, and I thought that by -careful management I should lead him to challenge me. This done, I hoped -to disable him and then continue our journey before help could come. By -so doing I should escape his espionage, and in a few hours be out of his -reach. - -He gave a start as I swaggeringly entered the room; but quickly appeared -composed. Some half-dozen labourers were there, with their jugs of beer -before them, and all seemed awed at the advent of two gentlemen with -swords by their sides and pistols in their belts. Clement Killigrew was -standing in front of the fire, for although the spring was upon us the -nights were cold. - -"Ill-mannered knave," I said, striding up to him, "what do you mean by -standing in front of the fire?" - -He looked at me angrily, and seemed about to answer back according to -the manner of my address; but controlling his feelings he stood aside. - -"I ask your pardon," he said politely, "it was very rude of me to keep -the fire from the rest of the company." - -"It was rude," I replied, "and none but a varlet would do it." - -"I have expressed my apologies," was his response. - -"Words are cheap," I said; "still, I suppose that is all you are able to -give." - -"Yes, I will give more than words," he replied, and on this I grasped -the hilt of my sword, for I hoped that I had aroused him to fight, but -my hopes were short-lived. "I will be glad to pay for a glass of brandy -grog for each of these good fellows," he said blandly. - -The men murmured their pleasure. "A rail gen'leman," they said, looking -at him with admiration, while they regarded me with angry scowls. - -So far he had the best of the encounter. Evidently he had determined to -avoid a quarrel. Perhaps he was afraid of me, perhaps he thought it wise -to refrain from fighting. - -"This man seeks to buy your friendship," I said loudly. "I will tell you -what he is--he is one of two things. Either a common highway robber, or -a coward. If he be the first, let him fight--or I will take him to the -nearest magistrate; if he is the second, you ought to drum him out of -the house." - -"I am not a highway robber," he replied blandly. "To prove it I am -perfectly willing to go with you and these gentlemen to the nearest -magistrate; put it down then that I am a coward." - -"Yes," I said, "you are a coward, all the Killigrews are." - -Again his eyes flashed, and this time he placed his hand on the butt end -of his pistol. On looking at me, however, he again assumed a bland -expression. - -"You have given me a name, sir, and you have called me a coward. Well, -have your own way. The truth is, although I am travelling in civilian's -attire, I hope soon to be ordained a priest. For the present, therefore, -I am under a vow not to fight." - -"A rail gen'leman, a rail gen'leman," murmured the men. - -"An arrant coward," I cried. - -"I think," said Clement to the landlord, who had entered, "that your -drink must be very strong here. This gentleman must be drunk." - -This gave me my chance, and I was about to strike him in the face, when -I heard Amelia's voice outside. - -"Come, sir, quick." - -I left the room, while the men gave a loud guffaw at my supposed -discomfiture. - -"Git the 'osses out quick, sir," cried the maid. - -"Why?" - -"Do as she tells you," said Mistress Nancy. - -"He'll ride after us as before," I objected. - -"No he wa'ant, not fur," cried Amelia. - -I did as they suggested, and when I had paid the landlord I prepared to -mount. I was still in the dark why Mistress Nancy had suggested this -course of procedure, but it was for her to command and me to obey. I -kept my eyes steadily on the front door while my two companions mounted. -I thought I saw Clement Killigrew come out, but was not sure. - -"Ride on quickly out of pistol range," I said to them, then I walked -backward by Chestnut's side for twenty or thirty yards, all the time -holding my pistol in my right hand. No one following, I placed my foot -in the stirrup and was soon galloping down the road. We had not gone -far when I heard the sound of hoofs behind us. - -"He's again following us," I said bitterly. - -"He wa'ant come fur!" said Amelia with a laugh; so I turned to her, -asking what she meant. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -WHY I TOOK MISTRESS NANCY TO TREVISCOE. - - -Amelia did not immediately answer my question, but continued to laugh -like one in high spirits. "He wa'ant come fur!" she repeated; and after -we had gone on, it may have been a mile or two, I stopped and listened -again, and this time there were no following footsteps. - -"Now we must ride quick," said the maid. - -"How! what use will it be?" I asked almost angrily. "Clement's horse -will be as good as either of yours." - -"Iss, but his hoss is drunk!" laughed Amelia. - -"Drunk?" I cried. - -"Iss, drunk. When I zeed you go into the kitchen, and tried to git into -a row weth Maaster Clement, I minded a trick I once seed at Endellion -Church town. So I tould the chap that took your 'osses to draw me a -gallon of beer. He axed me questions 'bout et, but I knawed 'ow to git -over 'ee." - -"And did the horse drink it?" - -"Drink et! I shud think he ded. He wos thusty and sooped up every drap. -Aw I shud like to see un now;" and the maid laughed again. - -In spite of everything I joined her. It was purely a village girl's -trick, and well carried out. A thirsty horse will drink a quantity of -beer, and generally a few minutes after becomes light-headed and unable -to walk straight. - -"You are a clever girl, Amelia," I said again, "and you are right in -saying we must ride quickly. Clement will find out the trick, and will -follow us on foot." - -"We've got the wind in our back," she replied, "zo ef we git a mile or -so ahead, the sound of our 'osses wa'ant reach he." - -So we rode hard until we came to Summercourt. Here there were several -branch roads, and so far as I could see no one was stirring. Even -although Clement followed on foot, he would have great difficulty in -finding which way we had gone. - -"Which way shall we go?" I asked of Mistress Nancy. - -"Do you think it will be safe for us to go to Polperro?" she asked -hesitatingly. - -"I think so," I replied, although my heart was sore at saying this. -"These Killigrews will know your whereabouts, and as a consequence there -will be no watchers at Polperro." - -"And you will take me there safely?--that is," she continued, as though -she were correcting herself, "you think you can?" - -"Oh yes, I can," I replied; "and I will take you whither you will." - -"Then perhaps we had better go there--I know of no other place." - -She spoke plaintively, and as I thought hesitatingly. I longed to offer -her a home at Trevanion, but I dared not. - -"It is well," I replied, as cheerfully as I could; "there is just -another matter we may as well settle, however. Shall we ride there on -our horses, or shall we go by water?" - -"What do you mean?" she asked anxiously. - -"Polperro's house is close to the sea, is it not?" I asked. - -"Yes--that is, I believe so." - -"Well, if we were to ride to Veryan Bay, we could get a boat and sail -from there." - -"And is that a better way?" - -"You shall decide, if you please," was my reply. "From here to Veryan -is, perchance, twelve miles. I do not imagine that the Killigrews would -suspect us of going there; so even if Clement should try and follow us -with another horse, I do not think he would take that course. He would -rather imagine that we should make for Polperro by road." - -She was silent for a few seconds, then she told Amelia to ride behind us -out of earshot. At this my heart fluttered wildly, for I thought she had -something of importance to say to me. For a few minutes we rode side by -side without either speaking a word. The moon had risen high in the -heavens, and many of the clouds had passed away, so I could see her -every feature plainly. - -"Do you wonder," she said presently, "that, in spite of the vow you took -some time ago, I cannot feel as friendly towards you as I would." - -"No," I replied almost sullenly. - -"Perhaps you know that my liberty, my happiness, my fortune, the whole -future of my life is at stake." - -"Yes." - -"It is only a few months since I returned from a convent school in -France. My father, I suppose, was a rich man; and I have heard vaguely -that I legally inherit a large property when I am twenty-one. That time -will soon come now. That is why the Killigrews are anxious to marry me -at once. All I have would then become theirs. I have heard, too, that my -property is strictly entailed. But I have been told nothing definite; it -would seem as though all have been in a league to keep the truth from -me. Ever since I returned from school I have been practically a -prisoner. But I am determined to be free!" - -"You shall be free if it is in my power to make it possible," I replied. - -She gave a sharp, searching look, and then went on. - -"I am, as you see, entirely dependent on you." - -I was silent. - -"As far as I know there is but one man in whom I can trust. He--he has -asked me to be his wife. He does not know that I have taken this step." -She said this in a constrained, hesitating way, as though she were -afraid to utter the words. - -"Do you wish to be John Polperro's wife?" I stammered awkwardly. "That -is, would you under ordinary circumstances choose him for your husband? -Is he to you the man above all others?" - -"You are a stranger to me," she went on, as though I had not spoken. -"Until that night when you climbed to the housetop at Endellion I had -never seen you, never heard of you. I have no claim on you save the -claim that any gentlewoman who is in trouble has upon a man of honour." - -"Be that as it may," I replied, "all I have and am are at your service. -I will take you whither you will." This I said, I am afraid, with a -sigh, for I realized that after I had taken her to Polperro my work -would be done. I must leave her, perchance never to see her again. - -"I may trust you fully then?" - -"Fully." - -"Then," she said, and her voice became hard and unsympathetic, I -thought, "will you tell me why you came to Endellion? why you tried to -deceive me the first time you spoke to me? why you did not answer me -frankly when we were together with that old man on Roche Rock?" - -Her questions came quickly, and I saw by the way she grasped the bridle -rein that she was much wrought upon. In a second I realized what they -meant. I saw that the moment I told her the truth, even although she -might perforce trust me to take her to Polperro, all possibility of -respect for me would be gone. She would think of me as one who for gain -would have betrayed a woman's confidence, one who was the tool of men -who had bought me for a price. I had given up all idea of taking her to -Treviscoe, but the fact that I had consented to such a bargain must -stamp me in her eyes as a knave. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but -for the moment I could not, and I sat staring into vacancy as though I -were a born fool. - -"Forgive me," she said coldly, "I will not trouble you to answer me. I -have no right to know your secrets or your plans. You have promised to -take me to Polperro, and your name is Trevanion; I will trust to one -bearing your name to do as you have promised. I am sorry to trouble you, -but I am obliged to take advantage of a gentlewoman's claim on a -gentleman, and to ask you to take me to the house of my only friend." - -My heart was heavy, for I saw what her words implied. She would regard -me with less respect than she might regard a paid guide. Although she -had said she would trust me, her heart would doubt me all the time. I -knew by the tones of her voice that when the time of our parting came -she would be glad. She had given me a chance of proving myself an -honourable man, and I had been unable to take advantage of it. -Therefore, although by all laws of chivalry I was bound to serve her, -she would accept that service no longer than she absolutely needed me. -Aye, she would loathe my presence and my service, even although she -could not do without them. - -This I knew was what my silence meant to her, but what would an -explanation mean? The truth would be perhaps worse than the suspicion. -Never did I despise myself as I did then, and I felt as though I dared -not tell her the truth. But this was only for a second. Despise me -though she must, I would tell her the whole story. I had at least -repented; whatever my motives had been in the past, they were pure now. - -"Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said, "I will answer the questions you -have asked." - -"No, no," she interrupted. "I have no right to know. I was wrong in -asking. Your secret life can be nothing to me." - -"I must answer your questions nevertheless," I replied. "And you have a -right to know something of the man in whom you trust so much. I shall -probably lose what little confidence you have in me, and certainly all -your respect, but still I must tell you." - -She protested again, in chilling, indifferent tones, but I heeded her -not. - -"You said just now that I was a Trevanion," I said; "well, you spoke -truly, I am a Trevanion." Then sparing myself in no degree, I told her -the plain facts as I have told them here. It was painful to me, painful -as pulling out my eyes, but I felt I would rather she should know all -than that she trust me blindfolded, while all the time she hated to be -obliged to speak to me. During the time I was speaking she made no -response. Our horses walked slowly on (for by this time I imagined we -were entirely away from the Killigrews), and so she heard every word I -uttered. Sometimes I looked at her face, but it revealed nothing to me. -It was as motionless as the face of a statue. - -"That is all," I said when I had finished; "but believe me in this at -least: I did not fully realize what my premise meant, and you cannot -think worse of my conduct than I think myself. I know it was unworthy, -but it shall not turn out to your ill. If it is in the power of man, I -will take you to the place to which you would go." - -"Shall we ride faster?" she said presently. - -"Yes," I replied, "but which way? Will you go by road or water?" - -"If we go to Veryan, we pass Tresillian, I think you said?" - -"I do not remember saying so, but it is true." - -"Then we will go that way." - -For the next few miles we rode rapidly, neither speaking a word, but -presently she slackened her horse's pace. - -"How far is Tresillian from here?" she asked. - -"About one mile." - -"Thank you for being so frank," she said after a few seconds of silence. - -"I know it must be unpleasant for me to be near you," I said bitterly; -"but believe me, I will trouble you no longer than I can help." - -"When you have taken me to my destination, what will you do?" - -"I shall start for London." - -"Why?" - -"There can be nothing left for me in Cornwall. I shall join the King's -standard, and honourably seek my way to fortune." - -"You will lose your home, the home of your fathers?" - -"It must be." - -"You say that--that man gave you money." - -"Yes, but he will be amply recouped. All the same, I shall send him the -amount as soon as I have earned it." - -"What kind of man is he? And what kind of man is--is his son?" - -Again I did not spare myself, indeed I took a sort of savage delight in -describing the two men I had promised to serve. - -"And if you had taken me to Treviscoe, you would claim the deeds. You -would have fulfilled your obligations to them, and the old homestead -would be yours?" - -"Forgive me," I cried, "I did not know I could have become so base," and -indeed at that moment I felt unworthy to ride by her side. - -"Can you think of Trevisa's purpose in wanting to get me there?" she -asked, without seeming to notice my words. - -"I think I told you," I replied bitterly. - -"Yes, but he told you nothing of the means by which he hoped to carry -out his purpose?" - -"No, it was nothing to me. I was desperate, mad. Besides I thought not -of that, and I--I loved adventure." - -"But you give me your sacred promise that you will take me wherever I -desire to go?" - -"You know I do. I despise myself. Believe me, I am not at heart a base -villain, and I am anxious to prove to you how bitterly I repent--what I -bargained to do. I long to break my miserable promise; nay, I shall be -glad to bear the consequences of failing to redeem my pledge to him. -I--I will do anything, suffer anything to carry out your purposes." -This I said hesitatingly, because it came to me that I was betraying the -love for her which was burning in my heart. - -"You mean, then, that you will take me wherever I ask you?" - -"Yes, yes!" I said eagerly. - -"Then take me to Treviscoe, to the home of these--these Trevisas." - -I started back aghast. "No, no!" I cried. - -"But you have promised me, promised me on your honour." - -"But--but you do not understand." - -"I understand perfectly." - -"They are both miserable, sensual wretches." - -"You told me that a little while ago. But please take me there." - -"I am sure they have sinister, evil purposes in wishing to get you -there." - -"Most likely, nevertheless I rely on your promises." - -"They will do their utmost to get you into their power. They have no -conscience, no sense of honour." - -"I should judge not. But I will go." - -I looked into her face. Her eyes shone like live coals, her face was as -pale as death, but I could see she was resolute. - -"Very well," I said with a sigh. "I will do as you command me." - -It was now midnight, and we were within two miles of Truro. - -"It is well on to twenty miles from here to Trevisa's place," I said, -"and the roads are bad. To say the least, it is a three hours' journey. -There is a good inn at Truro, and I think you would be safe there. Which -will you do--stay at Truro, or ride direct to Trevisa's?" - -She hesitated a few seconds, then she decided to stay at Truro. I was -glad of this, because I knew she must be very weary. Half an hour later -our horses were in a comfortable stable, while Mistress Nancy Molesworth -sat at the same table with me in one of the best inns in the county. - -"You still wish me to take you to Treviscoe?" I said after we had -partaken of refreshment. - -"Yes. Good-night." - -When I reached my room I pondered long over the events of the day, and -wondered much at the maid Nancy's behaviour, but could not divine her -motives. I determined to take her to Peter Trevisa as she had commanded, -but I was strong in my resolve to watch over her as jealously as a young -mother watches over her first-born child. - -It was past midday when I awoke, and so I hurriedly dressed, wondering -what the woman I had learnt to love would think of me, but when I went -down-stairs I discovered that she had not yet risen. I went to the -stables and examined the horses. They were well fed and groomed, and as -far as I could gather, no one had been there making inquiries concerning -us. This put me at my ease, and when presently Mistress Nancy appeared, -I assured her of her safety. - -About an hour before dark we left Truro, and during our ride she asked -me many questions, the meaning of which I could not understand. One -thing she insisted on, for which in my heart I thanked her. It was that -we should take my attorney, Mr. Hendy, with us to Treviscoe, for I knew -that Peter Trevisa had a great terror of the law. Accordingly we called -at the old lawyer's house, and asked him to accompany us. He seemed much -surprised at seeing us, and the more was his astonishment when he -discovered that Mistress Nancy went to Treviscoe against my will, for -this he soon discovered. He said but little, however, and rode quietly -with us like a man in a dream. - -"What do you wish me to say to these men, Mistress Molesworth?" I said -to her, when Treviscoe appeared in sight. - -"Nothing," she replied absently. - -"Nothing!" - -"No. That is, say just what you would have said if you had carried out -the purpose with which you started out." - -Her words pierced me like a dagger-thrust, but I said nothing. A few -minutes later we came up to the hall door. - -Was Mr. Trevisa at home? - -"Yes," the servant replied; "old Mr. Trevisa is, but not young Mr. -Peter." - -At this I was glad, but on looking at the maid Nancy's face I saw that -she seemed perfectly indifferent. All the same she held tightly by her -serving-maid's arm. - -Old Peter seemed overjoyed at our appearance. - -"What, Roger, lad!" he cried; "welcome, welcome! I see you've brought a -guest for us too. Ah, she is doubly, trebly welcome. You've come for a -long stay, I trust, Mistress Molesworth. Ah, but you must be tired; I -will order refreshments. Here, Pollizock, you knave, take refreshments -into the dining-hall without delay. I am sorry my Peter is away, but he -will be back to-morrow. I have many things I want to speak to you about, -Mistress Molesworth. You will not desire much company to-night, and -doubtless both Roger and my friend Hendy will want to be jogging as soon -as they've had a bite. Mary Tolgarrick will have many knick-knacks, such -as ladies need, won't you, eh, Mary?" - -"Thank you," replied the maid, her face still set and stern, "but I -bought all that I need in Truro to-day; my maid Amelia will bring them -to me." - -"It is well," sniggered old Peter. "Be at home, my lady. Ah, I wish my -Peter were here! He is always witty and gay. But he is away in your -interest, Mistress Molesworth; he will have many things to tell -you--many things he hath discovered. But my son Peter is wise, very -wise." - -The ladies went out of the room, leaving Lawyer Hendy and myself with -old Peter. - -"Ah, Roger lad," cried the old man, "you are a man. Smart and clever. -You have saved Trevanion for yourself. When my Peter comes back we will -settle the matter legally. Did you have much trouble, my lad? Ah, you -must have played a deep game with the Killigrews." - -I did not reply. I could not. I was too much ashamed. To think that I -had planned to bring a well-born maid into such company, to remember -that forever the woman I loved must think of me as doing this, was to -fill my cup of degradation and misery. - -And yet she had come here of her own free will--aye, she had insisted on -coming after I had told her all. This I could not understand. - -"Have the Killigrews any idea where you have taken their ward, Roger -Trevanion?" asked old Peter presently. - -"No." - -"No? That is well. Tell me about it, lad?" - -"I cannot to-night; I am not in the humour." - -"Still surly, Roger? Ha, I know you hate to have aught to do with women. -But you will be paid. You have brought her here as you said, and you -shall be well paid, well paid." - -My arms ached to throttle the old wretch. I longed to place my hands -around his skinny neck and choke him, but I did nothing. Then old Peter -began talking to Lawyer Hendy, and I fell to wondering what the end of -the business was to be. That the maid Nancy would fall in with old -Peter's plans, I could not believe; and yet she evidently intended to -stay there. Would she desire me to be near as her protector? What were -her purposes? But the maid's mind was a sealed book to me. - -Presently she appeared again, her face still set, and her eyes burning -with the light of purpose. Old Peter led the way into the dining-hall, -and although I could not eat, I took my seat at the table. - -"We shall not need you," said old Peter to the servants; "leave us. We -can talk more freely now," he whined, turning towards us. "Is there -anything I can do for you, Mistress Molesworth?" - -"Yes," she replied steadily; "I wish you to fulfil your obligations to -Master Roger Trevanion, and give him the deeds of his estates." - -"When my son Peter comes home everything shall be settled, my dear -lady." - -"They can be settled now, can they not?" - -"It will be difficult. I do not suppose our friend Hendy hath the papers -at hand." - -"Yes, I have them here," replied the lawyer. - -At this I knew not what to say. My mind was torn with conflicting -thoughts. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -THE CHARGE OF TREASON. - - -Peter Trevisa seemed much chagrined at the course events were taking. -Doubtless he would twist and turn like a fox before fulfilling his -promises; but the maid stood expectant by as the attorney took some -papers from a receptacle and laid them on the table. - -"Everything is in order here," said the old man quietly. "Of course, -certain formalities will have to be complied with, but----" - -"I will have none of it!" I cried; "none of it." So saying, I rose to -leave the room. - -"Do you wish me to render you any further service, Mistress Molesworth?" -I continued hastily, "Have you any commands for me?" - -"Do you mean to say," she asked quietly, "that you will not use to your -advantage the means you have obtained in order to----" - -I interrupted her rudely, for truly I was sore distraught. - -"Think not too badly of me," I cried. "I am mean enough, God knows; but -being in the company of a good woman has taught me what a man ought to -be. No, no. I am a beggar--a beggar I will remain until I win my fortune -honourably. Tell me what I can do to serve you?" - -"Nothing," she replied, coldly, I thought. - -"You will stay here, then?" - -"Yes," she replied slowly; "seeing that Mr. Trevisa is so hospitably -inclined, I will remain during the night." - -"Many nights, my fair lady," cried old Peter gaily. "Treviscoe is very -fair demesne, and when my son comes back to-morrow he will make it very -pleasant for you. Ah! Roger knows that it is our joy to help all those -who are sorrowful or oppressed." - -"And is it your desire that I should leave you here?" I asked almost -bitterly. - -"You are sure you will not claim what is your right?" she asked. "Sure -you will not allow Mr. Hendy to establish you at your old home?" - -"I have no home," I cried. "If you do not wish me to stay and serve -you, I will ride back to the old place, and, having discharged the -servants, I will leave it forever." - -"Nay, nay, Roger," cried old Peter, yet I saw that his eyes gleamed with -avarice. - -Taking no notice of him I waited for the maid Nancy's answer. "Do you -wish me to remain near you?" I repeated. - -"No," she answered; "but I should like Mr. Hendy to stay for an hour or -so if he will." - -"Then I am dismissed?" I said rudely, for my heart was very sore; but -she made no answer, whereupon I turned on my heel, and a few minutes -later was riding towards my old home. - -Old Daniel welcomed me with tearful eyes. I might have been away years -instead of a few days. And yet, as I considered what had happened since -I bade him good-bye, years seemed to have elapsed. - -"Is all well, Daniel?" I asked, after many protestations of joy and -affection on his part. - -"All well, Master Roger; all well. The attorney hath been here much, but -I have no complaints to make. The serving-maids will be rejoiced to see -'ee, sur. They say the 'ouse is so lonely as a church when you be out ov -et. Aw, sur, I be glad to see 'ee." - -I had meant to tell the old man of my plans, but his joy at seeing me -tied my tongue. I did not think the servants cared so much for me, and -this revelation of their affection made it hard for me to tell them that -on the morrow they would have to leave my service and the house which -some of them had learnt to love. As a consequence, I determined to delay -the news until the following morning. - -This set me thinking again upon all that had happened, and, as well as I -could, I tried to understand the whole bearing of the case. I had -successfully completed the work I had undertaken, but in so doing I had -changed the whole tenor of my life. I had gone to Endellion a woman -hater; on returning I knew that I had willingly laid my heart at a -woman's feet. I had, on discovering this, abandoned the idea of taking -the maid Nancy to Treviscoe, and she had insisted on going. Why? I -formed many surmises concerning this, but could think of nothing which -satisfied me. The great question, however, was what would become of her? -That she had a purpose in going to Trevisa's I did not doubt; but I -knew, too, that old Peter would not lightly let her leave his house. -Doubtless, also, young Peter had devised many plans for the purpose of -fulfilling his heart's desire. I knew he would seek to forge claims -whereby he would try and bind Nancy to him. And I had left her at -Treviscoe, unprotected and alone. True, I was confident that she could -hold her own against both father and son, nevertheless it was dangerous -for her to be there. - -Then what purpose had she in speaking with the attorney? Why was she -anxious for me to leave her? For she was anxious. I called to mind the -conversation which took place at Treviscoe, and which I have but -meagrely described, and I was certain that she was relieved when I left -her. Did she loathe my presence? Did she scorn me for playing so unmanly -a part? Badly as I acted, I was less to be blamed than the men who had -employed me. Besides, I had refused to benefit by what I had done. After -much thinking, I determined not to leave the neighbourhood. I would -watch over her, I would be near to protect her in case of danger. - -This was the last thought in my mind before I fell asleep, and all -through the night I dreamed I was defending her from powerful enemies, -and rescuing her from dire perils. - -I was awoke by Daniel knocking at my door. - -"You be wanted down-stairs, sur." - -"Wanted by whom, Daniel?" - -"Some gen'lemen; I doan't knaw who they be. But they say tes very -important, sur." - -I hastily dressed, and made my way into the library where Daniel at my -request had shown my visitors. The moment I entered the room a tall man -came towards me, and placing his hand on my shoulder said quietly: - -"Roger Trevanion, you are a prisoner." - -"A prisoner!" I cried; "for what?" - -"Treason." - -"Treason! You must be mad!" - -"That remains to be proved." - -"But at least you can state in something like detail what you mean. What -have I done? Wherein have I acted wrongly?" - -"It is not for me to answer. I have simply to do my duty. I am -instructed to arrest you, and that is my purpose in being here. -Doubtless you will be allowed every opportunity of defending -yourself--but with that I have nothing to do. My commands are to take -you to Viscount Falmouth in a way befitting your station. Consequently, -if you give me your word that you will offer no resistance, you may -accompany us to Tregothnan as though you were simply going there on some -private business." - -I looked around the room, and saw three other men. Evidently the -spokesman had brought them for the purpose of taking me by force in case -of necessity. - -As may be imagined, I was for a few minutes stunned by the course events -had taken. I had never dreamed that I was in the slightest danger; I had -no idea that I had by any action placed myself under suspicion. - -Presently, however, I thought I saw Otho Killigrew's hands at work; I -imagined I saw evidence of his busy brain; I became more self-possessed -after this, and although I was in sore straits at the thought of leaving -Nancy at Treviscoe, I tried to regard the whole matter as a joke. - -"Gentlemen," I said, "what grounds there are for apprehending me I have -not the ghost of an idea. I, as all my fathers were, am a true supporter -of both crown and church. But, of course, you have done right in obeying -orders, and I will be ready to go with you in a few minutes. In the mean -time I hope you will join me at breakfast." - -They willingly fell in with this proposal, but although I tried hard, I -could get no information from them beyond what I have here set down. An -hour later I was on my way to Tregothnan, where I was presently informed -Hugh Boscawen (Viscount Falmouth) awaited me. - -Perhaps there is no lovelier spot anywhere between the Tamar and -Land's-end than Tregothnan. It overlooks the Truro River, and all that -vast stretch of woodland which surrounds it. Around the house, which is -an ancient pile, are rare gardens and parks, where old trees grow, the -like of which is not to be found in the fairest county in England. The -house was in many parts becoming decayed, and I had heard reports that -Hugh Boscawen hoped one day to replace it by a more commodious dwelling. -But I suspect that, like his father, he was too busy with political -schemes to care much for a place justly renowned for many miles around. - -I was shown into the library where Hugh Boscawen and three other -gentlemen sat. Two of these I knew slightly. One was Sir John Grenville -and another John Rosecorroch, the forefathers of both of whom fought -against Cromwell nearly a century before. My attention, however, was -more particularly drawn to Hugh Boscawen, before whom I was especially -brought. As I looked at his face I was somewhat reminded of his father, -who had died eleven years before, and whom I had twice seen. It called -to my mind, also, the stories I had heard about the first viscount. So -great was the old man's political zeal that he had caused the arrest of -many who held high monarchical principles. Even Sir Richard Vyvian or -Trelowaren, and Mr. Tremain, two of the most renowned and highly -respected gentlemen for miles around, did not escape his vigilance. They -were friends of his too, but, as he declared, "friendship had nought to -do with principles." - -The son, however, was not so great a man as his father. He had not the -same commanding countenance, neither did his eyes flash forth the same -light. On the other hand, the man before whom I stood seemed to be aware -that he did not possess a keen, penetrating intellect, and as a -consequence was suspicious and very cautious. Report had it, too, that -he was very zealous in his service for the King, and would leave no -stone unturned in order to carry out his designs. In proof of this, he -had, as I have already stated, been engaged in raising an army to resist -any forces which the Young Pretender might be able to command. - -"Roger Trevanion," he said slowly, "I am sorry to see you here." - -"Then it is a pity I should have been brought here, my lord," I said a -little hotly, for it went sore against the grain to be brought a -prisoner before a man whose family was no nobler than my own. - -"Neither would you have been brought here," he replied, "had not the -country been threatened by danger, and some, about whose loyalty there -should be no doubt, have become renegades." - -"You may have received information which has no foundation in fact, my -lord," was my reply. "Nevertheless I should like to ask two questions. -First, what right have you to have me brought here a prisoner? and -second (providing you can prove your right to arrest whom you please), -what are the charges laid against me?" - -"Although you have asked your questions with but little respect for my -position," he replied hotly, and I saw that his vanity was touched, "I -may inform you that by the gracious commands of His Majesty, King George -II., it is my duty not only to raise an army in Cornwall wherewith to -fight any rebels who may take up arms on the side of the young -Pretender, but also to arrest any who give evidence of plotting against -the peace of the country, or who in any way favor the claims of the -descendants of the Stuarts." - -"Admitting that you are commissioned to arrest traitors," I said, "I -wish to know why I am included in such a category. This is the first -time a Trevanion was ever degraded in such a way, and if I speak hotly, -I think there is but little wonder." - -"I have treated you leniently, Roger Trevanion," he replied. -"Remembering the house to which you belong, I ordered that your arrest -should not be made public, and that every consideration should be shown -you. Have not my commands been obeyed?" - -"As to that," I replied, "I have no complaints to offer. My grievance is -that I have been brought here at all; for truly I know of nothing in the -nature of treason that can be laid to my charge." - -In reply to this Sir John Grenville handed Hugh Boscawen papers which -he had been scanning, and on which I gathered the charge against me had -been written. - -"You shall yourself be the judge whether I, holding the commission I do, -have not acted rightly in bringing you here; and I here repeat that -nothing but respect for your name has kept me from making the matter -public and treating you as others, acting as you have acted, have been -treated all over the country. Indeed, I doubt whether I have done right -in using the discretionary powers invested in me in such a way as to -shield you from public calumny. If your conduct were bruited abroad, the -brave fellows who have voluntarily armed themselves to fight for the -King all up and down the country would without hesitation throw you into -the deepest dungeon beneath Pendennis Castle, even if they did not at -once kill you." This he said with, I thought, a sort of peacock pride, -which made me, short of temper as I was, itch to make him swallow his -words. - -"It ill becomes one possessing your powers to condemn a man unheard," I -cried hotly. "What is written on that paper I know not; this I know, if -there is anything alleged against my loyalty, I will proclaim the man -who wrote it a liar." - -Hugh Boscawen seemed about to lose his temper, but he was restrained by -Sir John Grenville, who seemed to regard me more favorably. - -"Very well," he said at length, "I will relate the charges made against -you. If you can clear yourself, well and good; if not, you must prepare -for the consequences." - -Knowing not what might be written, and fearing Otho Killigrew's cunning -(for I felt sure I saw his hand in all this), I foolishly called out for -a public trial. - -"There is no need at present for a public trial," said Hugh Boscawen, -who I could see was prejudged against me. "I am especially commissioned -to deal with such as you." - -"Up to about fourteen days ago," he continued, "you were known to live a -useless and dissolute life. Instead of taking your part in the service -of the country, your time was spent in gaming, drinking, and such like -foolish pursuits. Do you deny this?" - -"I do not," I replied. "I acted as many others are acting. Perchance -some of the many sons of your late father behave little differently even -to-day. But is there aught that smacks of treason in this?" - -"No; but even while living this life, you often let hints drop -concerning the danger of our gracious King, and the coming of the young -Pretender." - -"But never to favour his coming," I replied. - -"This taken by itself would have but little meaning," he went on; "but -subsequent events cause your words to have grave import." - -"What subsequent events, my lord?" I asked hotly. - -"About fourteen days ago you left your home, and rode away alone. Will -you tell me the object of your journey?" - -I was silent, for in truth I cared not to tell this man about the -flight of the maid Nancy. - -"You are silent. If your journey was honourable, what need is there for -seeking to hide it?" - -"My lord," I said, "most of us have our secrets. They may be innocent -enough, but still we do not care to have them made public property." - -"Ordinarily that may be true," he replied; "but remembering the charge -against you, I shall require you to state why you left Trevanion." - -"For no traitorous purpose, my lord, that I will swear. My reason for -leaving home had nothing whatever to do with the coming of the -Pretender." - -"Out of your own mouth I will convict you," he replied. "Did you not -tell Colman Killigrew, of Endellion, that you came to see him for the -very purpose of seeking to help the enemy of the King?" - -The words came upon me like a thunderbolt. I saw now that my position -was more dangerous than I had conceived. - -"Believe me, my lord," I cried, "I had another purpose in going to -Endellion. I, hearing that Killigrew favored Charles Stuart, used that -as a means whereby I might enter his house." - -"You told him a lie." - -"It was necessary in order to accomplish that on which I had set my -mind." - -"You admit telling a lie to him. How do I know you would not tell a lie -to me?" - -"But it is well known that the Killigrews are enemies of George II.," I -cried. - -Hugh Boscawen smiled scornfully. Not great of intellect, he -nevertheless sought to impress me with his erudition. - -"I know that the Killigrews pretend this," he replied, "but only for the -purpose of serving the King. It is true that the family hath nearly died -out, and beyond this one branch there are no representatives; but they -have always supported king and crown." - -"Tom Killigrew was Master of Revels of Charles II.," I replied hotly, -"and the family have always sworn allegiance to the Stuart race." - -"I am not here to bandy words with you, Roger Trevanion," he said; "the -question is, Did you or did you not offer your services to Colman -Killigrew? Did you not offer to help to raise an army against the king? -Did you not say that the people called Methodists were papists in -disguise, and desired to bring back the Catholic religion, and again -establish high monarchical powers?" - -Again I was silent, for in truth I had no answer to give. - -"I am waiting for you to speak," he continued presently. - -"I have no answer to make beyond again saying that this was a mere -subterfuge on my part to establish a footing in the house." - -"Why wished you to establish a footing in the house?" - -"This also must remain my secret for the present," was my answer. - -"I tell you you are making a rope for your own neck," said Sir John -Grenville. "Tell the truth, lad; we are not thine enemies." - -"I will give you one more chance," said Hugh Boscawen. "You have refused -to answer the other questions I have asked, will you answer this? There -is a man known to hate the house of Hanover, who wanders up and down the -country in many disguises. Yesterday he was a priest of the Catholic -order, to-day he is a hermit living in cells, to-morrow he will be a -wandering minstrel and tale-teller; the day after he will meet with men -of high degree and converse with them as with equals. He is known as -Uncle Anthony, as Father Anthony, as Sir Anthony Tregarrick. Ah! I see -your lips tremble! Well, this man is one of the most dangerous men in -the country; he has gone to France, and has had secret converse with him -who is desirous of leading the rebels to battle; he is commissioned to -arouse a rebellious feeling in Cornwall, and he hath been doing this by -many underhanded means. Answer me this: Have you met this man disguised -as a traveling tale-teller? Have you allowed him to ride on your horse? -Have you had secret converse with him in one of his many hiding-places?" - -"For no seditious purpose, my lord." - -"But you have had converse with him?" - -"Yes, but my conversation hath had naught to do with the coming of -Charles." - -"That may be proved. For a week past I have used many means to discover -this man's whereabouts. If he is taken he will assuredly die. You were -in his company not many days ago. Do you know where he is now?" - -It seemed as though the fates were against me. Truth was, I had, in -spite of everything, learned to love this lonely old man. If I told all -the truth I should be the means of his death, so I again held my peace. - -"You know where he is," said Sir John Grenville, who had several times -advised Hugh Boscawen as to the questions he should ask me. "Tell us -where you saw him last and it shall be well for you." - -"Never have I spoken one word with the travelling droll about the -affairs of the nation," I replied; "and I defy any man to prove that I -have used any endeavours to injure my king." - -"But we have witnesses!" - -"Then let your witnesses appear!" I cried hotly, for I thought I was -safe in saying this. - -"They shall appear, Roger Trevanion," said Hugh Boscawen; "they shall -appear," whereupon he signaled for a serving-man to attend him. When the -man came, Hugh Boscawen spoke to him in low tones, and immediately after -we were left alone again. - -"You say no man hath heard you proclaim against our gracious king?" said -Hugh Boscawen to me. - -"No man," I replied. - -No sooner had I spoken than the door opened, and Otho Killigrew and his -brother Clement entered the room. Upon this my heart fluttered much, for -I knew Otho to be as cunning as the devil, and as merciless. All the -same I met his gaze boldly, for I determined now we had met in this way -that it should go hard with him. But I did not know then the man with -whom I had to deal. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -OTHO KILLIGREW'S VICTORY. - - -Both Otho Killigrew and his brother Clement bowed courteously to Hugh -Boscawen. Both, too, appeared perfectly at ease in his presence. - -"I have asked you to come here," said Viscount Falmouth to them blandly, -"in order to substantiate the charge you made last night against Roger -Trevanion." - -"I should have been glad to have escaped the duty," replied Otho, -speaking slowly as was his wont, "but as a loyal subject of our gracious -Majesty, George II., whom may God preserve, I could do no other." - -"You could not if your charges are true," was Falmouth's rejoinder. "The -name of Killigrew hath long been associated with the best life of the -county. I remember that the coat-of-arms of Falmouth, with which town I -am so closely associated by name and interest, is taken from that of the -Killigrews. Let me see, your arms are those of the Devonshire -Killigrews, and are _gules, three mascles or_. It pleases me much that -your branch of that ancient and honourable family remain loyal, -especially as evil reports have been rife concerning you." - -"My father hath allowed reports to go forth uncontradicted," replied -Otho; "he found that by so doing he could best serve his king. And as a -further proof of the loyalty of our family, we have at the first -opportunity laid information before you concerning this man, Roger -Trevanion." - -"Will you be good enough to repeat here what you stated last night -concerning him, so that he may have every opportunity of defending -himself?" - -I cannot here put down in exact words the story which Otho Killigrew -told, for in truth I cannot do justice to the subtlety of his mind, nor -describe his power of twisting actions and statements which were most -innocent into what seemed definite proof that I was a most determined -enemy of the king. As I listened my power of speech seemed for a time to -be gone, and I could do nothing but stare first at him, and then at Hugh -Boscawen as though I was a born fool. I saw, too, on consideration, that -my actions had laid me open to such an accusation. I _had_ pretended to -be a papist; I _had_ declared myself to be in favor of the return of -Charles the Pretender; I _had_ promised old Colman Killigrew to obtain -recruits to fight against the King. Moreover, if I defended myself I -must tell the whole miserable story of my bargain with Peter Trevisa, -and then drag in the name of the maid who became constantly dearer to -me. Thus when Hugh Boscawen asked me if I had aught to say, I was for a -few moments stupidly silent. - -"Look you," said Sir John Grenville, "you can at least answer plain -questions. Did you, on going to Endellion, tell Master Colman Killigrew -that you were a papist, and that hearing he was in the favour of the -Pretender's return, you desired to offer him your service? Yes, or no?" - -"That is true, Sir John," I blurted out; "but I only used this as a -means whereby I might be able to enter the house." - -"But why did you wish to enter the house?" - -Again I was silent, for in truth I could not make up my mind to tell the -whole truth. I knew that Otho Killigrew longed to know my real reason -for coming to Endellion; longed to know what interest I had in the maid, -Nancy Molesworth, and was doubtless using every means in his power to -try and find out where I had taken her. I was sure, moreover, that did I -once begin to tell my story, I should probably let words fall that might -give him a knowledge of her whereabouts, and then she would be quickly -in his power again. But besides all this, I had given my promise to -Peter Trevisa, before undertaking the mission of which I had become so -heartily ashamed, that I would tell no man concerning it. At the time I -had made the promise I had seen no danger, and had any one told me two -days before that any of the Killigrews of Endellion would dare to charge -me with treason against the king, I would have laughed at him. Yet such -was the case, and innocent as I was of all traitorous purposes, I could -see no loophole for my escape. - -"You are silent in relation to Sir John's query," said Hugh Boscawen, -who did not seem to relish any one asking questions but himself. "Let me -ask you one in Master Otho Killigrew's presence: Did you or did you not -promise to try and get recruits to try and fight against the king?" - -"What I said had no meaning in it," I replied. "The king hath no truer -or more loyal subject than Roger Trevanion." - -"If you are a true and loyal subject, you will be glad to give -information whereby all traitors can be brought to book," replied -Boscawen. "I mentioned just now the name of one who, when you were with -him, was known as a traveling droll, by the name of Uncle Anthony. As I -told you, he is the most dangerous man in the county. Will you tell us -what you know of him?" - -"I know Uncle Anthony as a welcome guest of Colman Killigrew," I -replied. "When first I went to Endellion I was attacked by Otho -Killigrew's brother, and they would perchance have done me harm but for -the interference of the old man to whom you refer. As soon as they saw -that he was my companion they received me kindly. When I entered the -house I perceived that he was treated with great respect--almost as an -honoured guest." - -"I may say," replied Otho calmly, "that this is true. My father had -doubts concerning him, but would do nothing against him until he was -absolutely sure of his guilt. Knowing of the reports circulated about -our family he came to our house and was received kindly, as we try to -receive all visitors. It was during his last visit that my father's -suspicions concerning him were confirmed." - -"Then," cried I, "why did you not arrest him?" - -"I may also say," went on Otho, without seeming to notice me, "that by -some secret means unknown to us, he left on the same night he arrived -with Roger Trevanion. But even had he stayed he would have been safe." - -"Why?" asked Sir John Grenville. - -"Because," replied Otho, "he entered our house as a guest,--as a humble -one, it is true, but still as a guest, and therefore we could take no -steps against him. When gone, however, and we had been able to verify -our doubts concerning him, I deemed it right to mention the fact of his -visit to my Lord Falmouth." - -"But he hath long been known to me as a dangerous man," cried Hugh -Boscawen. - -"We live far away from centers of information at Endellion," replied -Otho humbly. - -"And you say that Roger Trevanion knows where this man can be found?" - -"I know that he has been the companion of the man," replied Otho, "and -that he can probably tell where he now resides." - -"I do not know," I replied, thinking that he might have removed from the -lonely chapel. - -"When saw you him last, and where?" asked Hugh Boscawen. - -Again I hesitated. Ought I to tell of the old man's whereabouts? I -could not see into the depths of Otho Killigrew's mind, but I felt -assured that he had some purpose in bringing in Uncle Anthony's name. -Did he desire to punish him for assisting Mistress Nancy Molesworth's -escape? Did he think I might be led to speak of him and thus tell of my -purpose in coming to Endellion. I was sure that this puzzled him sorely. -Was it to find out this that he had braved the danger of visiting -Tregothnan, the home of the man whose joy it was to find out treason and -punish it? I knew next to nothing of the old story-teller. He might or -might not be a political meddler. I was sure, however, that he was -shrewd beyond common, and would have friends unknown to me. He had many -hiding-places too, and in spite of his wound it was not likely that he -would stay at the hermit's chapel. - -Then another thought struck me. If it was the purpose of Hugh Boscawen -to arrest Uncle Anthony, the old man would surely be aware of it, and -any information I might be able to give would effect but little. On the -other hand, if he were told that Otho Killigrew had laid information -concerning him, the keen old recluse would not hesitate to make out a -bad case against the Killigrews, and, in spite of the part they were -playing, would pull their mask aside, and show the Viscount their real -sentiments. I therefore determined to speak freely. - -"When I last saw Uncle Anthony," I replied, "he was lying in a lonely -chapel in the parish of St. Mawgan. He had been wounded by Otho -Killigrew for seeking to defeat his evil purposes." - -"What evil purposes?" - -"I will let the old droll answer that, when you have taken him," I -replied; "but it had naught to do with treason against the king." - -"Had it to do with the purpose for which you say you went to Endellion?" -asked Sir John Grenville. - -"It had, Sir John." - -"Then let me tell you this," said the baronet, "it will be well for you -if you will tell us the reason for which you took this journey and the -event which led to this charge being made against you." - -At that moment I turned and caught the eye of Otho Killigrew; and from -the eagerness with which he looked at me, I knew that he longed for me -to answer Sir John's question. Was there something lurking behind of -which I had no knowledge? Had Peter Trevisa and his son told me -everything when he asked me to bring the maid, Nancy Molesworth, to -them? Had Otho Killigrew come to the conclusion that I might help him to -find out some valuable secrets? During the time he had been accusing me -of treason, he had never once hinted at the truth. Did he know where -Mistress Nancy was? And more than this, might not one of his reasons for -placing himself in danger in order to cause my arrest be that he feared -me? I remembered now that I knew nothing of the maid Nancy's life prior -to her coming to Endellion, and I reproached myself for not asking her. - -All this flashed through my mind in a second, and determined me more -than ever to let drop no hint as to the truth. Possibly I should be -doing the maid I loved incalculable injury by so doing, for I knew that -Otho Killigrew was merciless. - -"There be certain things, Sir John, which a gentleman may not tell," I -replied. "You will know as well as I that the Trevanions have more than -once suffered rather than endanger the fair fame of a lady. I can only -give you my word of honour that I never dreamed of treason, and that if -it become necessary I am willing to take up arms for the king." - -"Methinks he tries to make me out a liar," replied Otho Killigrew, -speaking more quickly than was his wont; "I will be willing to withdraw -my charges if he will make it clear that what he has just said is true. -We be all gentlemen here, and not one of us would let the fair name of a -lady suffer." - -By speaking thus he confirmed my suspicions, and I still held my peace. -Possibly Hugh Boscawen and Sir John Grenville, in their over-zeal for -the king, their minds poisoned by the cunning of Otho Killigrew, might -commit me for public trial, but I did not fear that. I feared rather -that by speaking I should give Killigrew a power which he did not now -possess, even though my knowledge was meager in extreme. - -After this I was asked many more questions, some of them concerning -Uncle Anthony, and others about matters which seemed to me trivial -beyond measure; but I was not able to assure my judges of my innocence, -and I was at length condemned to be imprisoned at Launceston Castle -until such time as I could be publicly tried. - -Now this was sore grief to me, for I should thus leave the maid Nancy in -the hands of Peter Trevisa and his son, or, what would be worse, at the -mercy of Otho Killigrew. It is true there seemed but little danger that -Peter Trevisa would play into Otho's hands, but I had many doubts. - -"My lord," I said, as soon as I was able to collect my thoughts "as you -know, I have been away from Trevanion for many days. May I pray your -clemency in so far that I may be allowed to return for a few hours in -order to consult my attorney and make other simple arrangements -concerning my servants?" - -"This shall be granted," replied Hugh Boscawen. "It would ill beseem -that one of your name should be treated with lack of due courtesy. You -shall, therefore, ride to your house as a free man might; you shall also -be allowed to see your attorney. Furthermore, there is no need that for -the present the knowledge of the charges laid against you should become -public." - -At this I knew not what to think, for I felt myself as it were in a -network of difficulties, and knew not whether Hugh Boscawen desired to -be my friend or enemy. All the same I determined to make the most of my -opportunities. I immediately sent a message to Lawyer Hendy, therefore, -asking him to meet me at Trevanion, and tried to think of means whereby -I could tell Mistress Nancy of the fate which had befallen me, or, -better still, to see her. Nothing, however, occurred to me on my journey -home; indeed I was kept busy talking with my guardsmen, who, although -they treated me respectfully, watched me closely. Once I thought of -attempting flight, but I reflected that such a course would be unwise, -even if it were possible. Besides, being unarmed, I was very nearly -helpless in such a matter. - -I had not long returned to Trevanion when Lawyer Hendy came. He listened -very attentively to my recital of my experiences, but made no comment -thereon. Instead he sat quibbling the end of his riding-whip, like one -in deep thought. - -"What is the meaning of this?" I asked presently. - -"I cannot tell--yet." - -"You think Otho Killigrew has some deep-laid purpose?" - -"Possibly. Possibly he is only inspired by a spirit of revenge. But -enough of that for the present. What do you wish done while you are away -at--that is, from home?" - -"Before I deal with that," I cried, "I wish to know what happened at -Treviscoe last night?" - -"Last night? Nothing." - -"Nothing?" - -"No." - -"But Mistress Nancy wished to speak with you, and you stayed with her. -What had she to say?" - -"It is not for me to tell you." - -I ground my teeth with impatience. "Then she told you nothing of her -history or purposes?" I asked. - -"I did not say so," replied the attorney grimly. - -"But she did not know of the danger in which I stood?" - -"Yes." - -"What!" - -"Do not misunderstand. She knew that you were in danger, because she -knew Otho Killigrew; but she knew nothing, suspected nothing of the -course events would take." - -"I should like her to know what has happened to me," I said, "otherwise -she will think I am unwilling to render her further service. Would you -take a letter to her? I am allowed to write letters." - -"I would if I could, but I cannot." - -"Cannot, why?" - -"Because I do not know where she is." - -"What do you mean, Hendy?" I cried. "You left her last night at -Treviscoe!" - -"I mean, Master Roger Trevanion," said the attorney slowly, but speaking -every word plainly, "that I do not know where the lady Mistress Nancy -Molesworth is." - -"Then get to know through Peter Trevisa." - -"He doth not know!" - -"How?" I cried, now truly amazed. - -"Because she is gone, and Peter Trevisa is as ignorant of her -whereabouts as you are." - -"Then she is in Otho Killigrew's hands." - -"I do not think so." - -"Your reason for that?" I cried. - -"Because there are no evidences of it. She left Treviscoe last night, -not many hours after I left, at least such is Peter Trevisa's opinion. -He sent for me early this morning, and on my arrival I found him like -one demented. The maid had crept out of the house with her servant, and -had themselves saddled the horses and rode them away." - -"And left no traces behind?" - -"Not a trace." - -"But did she hold any conversation with Peter Trevisa after you had -left?" - -The lawyer gave a start. "I had not thought of that," he said hastily. - -"Look you, Hendy," I cried, for the time forgetting that in an hour or -so I should be on my way to Launceston jail, "I have puzzled my brains -sorely concerning this. Do you know the history of the business?" - -"I think so; yes. Trevisa has been obliged to tell me." - -"Has he told you why he wished the maid brought to Treviscoe?" - -"No--that is, beyond what he told you." - -"You mean that young Peter had fallen in love with her?" - -"That is it." - -"But that cannot be all; he would never wish her brought to Treviscoe -unless he had some powerful reason to urge to the maid for the course he -had taken." - -"I think you are right." - -"Have you any idea what the reason is?" - -"No." - -"Do you think he tried its effects last night?" - -Mr. Hendy was silent. - -"It might have miscarried, you know," I continued eagerly; but the old -attorney spoke no word, instead he walked to and fro the room as though -cogitating deeply. - -An hour later I was on horseback again, and proceeded under the charge -of four men towards Launceston, a town situated on the extreme borders -of the county, where at that time one of the county jails was situated. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -LAUNCESTON CASTLE. - - -Concerning my journey to Launceston there is but little need to describe -in detail. Except that it was long and wearisome it calls but for few -remarks. On our way thither we passed through Bodmin, where was a jail, -and where the assizes were periodically held. I asked why I was not -imprisoned there, seeing it was so much nearer Trevanion than -Launceston, and would thus save a long journey, but the men in whose -custody I was made no reply. Indeed we did not stay at Bodmin at all. -Instead we made our way towards the Bodmin moors, and passed through one -of the dreariest regions it has ever been my lot to see. The journey -through the night, from Wadebridge to Roche Rock, was awesome enough, -but it was cheerful compared with our wanderings through that waste land -which lies between the town of Bodmin and the village of Lewannick, a -distance of something like twenty miles. Besides, in the ride to Roche -Rock I was excited, I breathed the air of romance and adventure; a young -girl who I was even then learning to love rode by my side, and I had but -little time to think of the lonely district through which we rode. Now I -was a prisoner, my destination was one of the county jails, where I -should have to lie until such time as I should be tried for treason. All -this made the bare brown moors look more desolate. We had to ride -slowly, too, for there were innumerable bogs and quagmires, and no -proper roads had been made. One spot especially impressed me. It was -that known as Dozmary Pool, about which numberless wild tales had been -told. Legend had it that it had no bottom, and that Tregeagle, about -whose terrible fate all the children in Cornwall had heard, was -condemned to scoop out its dark waters with a limpet shell in order to -atone for his sins. Of the legend I thought but little, but the supposed -scene of his trials was enough to strike terror into the bravest heart. -The pool is as black as ink, and is situated in the midst of uninhabited -moorland. Early spring as it was, the wind howled dismally across the -weary waste, and my custodians shuddered as they rode along, for truly -it required little imagination to believe that the devil must delight to -hold his revels there. I have since thought that if I had played upon -the superstitious fears of my guards I should have had but little -difficulty in effecting my escape. - -After we had left the Bodmin Moors, we came upon those situated in the -parish of Altarnun, and these were, if possible, less cheerful than the -other, for on our right hand rose a ghastly-looking hill on which -nothing grew, and whose gray, forbidding rocky peaks made us long to get -into civilized regions again. By and by, however, after passing through -a hamlet called Bolven Tor we came to Altarnun, where we rested for -nearly two hours, and then made our way towards Launceston. - -It was quite dark when we entered the town, so I was able to form but -little conception of it. Even in the darkness, however, I could see the -dim outline of a huge building lifting its dark head into the night sky. - -"Launceston Castle!" remarked one of my companions. - -"Am I to stop there?" I asked. "Is it a prison?" - -"I don't know exactly," was the reply; "you'll find out soon enough for -your own comfort, I dare say." - -Upon this we came up to a high wall which was covered with ivy, and -behind which great trees grew. The sight of the walls was oppressive -enough, but the trees looked like old friends, and reminded me of the -great oaks which grew around Trevanion. - -"Here's a door," cried one, "let's knock." Whereupon the fellow knocked -loudly, and soon afterwards I heard the sound of footsteps. - -"What want you?" said a voice. - -"A prisoner," was the reply. - -"Take him to the lock-up," was the answer. "This is not the place for -constables to bring drunken men." - -"If it please you, we be not constables," replied one of my companions. -"We have come from my Lord Falmouth, with a prisoner of quality, and I -carry important papers." - -"But it is not for me to examine them," replied the voice, "and Master -Hugh Pyper is gone to a supper to-night at South Petherwin, and God only -knows when he will be back. Moreover, when he comes I much doubt whether -he will be fit to read such papers." - -"In Heaven's name, why?" - -"Because Sir Geoffry Luscombe keeps the best wine in the county, and -because whenever Master Hugh Pyper goes there he thinks he is bound by -conscience not to leave until he has drunk until he can drink no more." - -"And this Master Hugh Pyper is the constable and keeper of the jail and -castle? I know he is, for such is the name written on my papers." - -"Well, I will open the door," grumbled the man from within, "but I wish -you had chosen some other time. To-morrow morning, up to twelve o'clock, -Master Pyper will be asleep, and from then until late to-morrow night he -will give no man a civil word. You say your prisoner is a man of -quality?" - -"That he is." - -"All the same, I shall have to put him into a common jail until Master -Pyper is able to read what you have brought." - -We passed through the door as he spoke, and the man who had been -speaking, and who held a lantern in his hand, looked at me keenly. - -"I wish gentlefolk would keep out of trouble," he grumbled; "if they -did, I should keep out of trouble. Master Pyper is always in a -villainous temper whenever a man of quality is made prisoner. But come -this way." - -I expected to be taken to the castle itself, but in this I was mistaken. -South of this ancient pile, and away from the main structure, I noticed -a long low building, towards which I was led. The man who held the -lantern gave a whistle, whereupon another fellow appeared on the scene. - -"All quiet, Jenkins?" he asked. - -"Oal gone to slaip, sur. They've been braave and noisy, but they be oal -right now." - -"You have an empty cell?" - -"Iss, Mr. Lethbridge, there es wawn." - -"Open it." - -A few seconds later I had entered an evil-smelling hole, which as far as -I could see was about eight feet square and five feet high. On one side -was a heap of straw, in another a bench. - -"Are you hungry?" asked the man called Lethbridge. - -"I was before I entered this hole," I replied. "I cannot eat here." - -"There have been as good as you who have eaten there," he replied. -Then, after hesitating a second, he went on, "You would like to pay for -a decent supper I expect." - -"For the whole lot of you if we can have a clean place," was my answer. - -Mr. Lethbridge looked around. "Every man is innocent until he is proved -guilty," he remarked sententiously, "and thus before trial every -prisoner is allowed certain privileges. Come back again, sir." - -I therefore accompanied him to what seemed like a tower, situated -southwest of the gate at which he had entered. - -"This is the Witch's Tower," remarked Mr. Lethbridge. "A witch was once -burnt here, but she will not disturb us. John Jenkins, you know where to -get a good supper. The best you know!" The man gave a grin and walked -away in evident good humour. - -"John Jenkins is always willing to do little errands," remarked Mr. -Lethbridge, "and he only expects a trifle. The people to whom he's gone -will send a good supper and not be unreasonable. Do not be downhearted, -sir." - -Bad as was my condition, I was cheered at the thought of a good meal -which might be eaten amidst clean surroundings, and although the room -under the Witch's Tower was not cheerful, it was dry and clean. A few -minutes later a decent supper was brought, of which we all partook -heartily. Mr. Lethbridge was the best trencherman among us, although he -assured us at starting that having had supper he would be able to eat -nothing. The amount of wine he consumed, too, was astounding, especially -as he was constantly telling us that unlike his master, Hugh Pyper, the -Governor of the Castle, he was but an indifferent drinker. Presently, -however, when both he and the men who had escorted me from Trevanion had -become fairly drunk, I was informed that I might stay in the Witch's -Tower for the night, while they would go to Mr. Lethbridge's lodge and -drink my health in some more wine that they would order in my name. - -I was glad to be rid of them, for dreary and lonely as the Witch's Tower -was, Jenkins had brought some straw for me to lie on, and I felt very -tired. I could not sleep, however. I had too many things to think about, -for in truth the events of the last few days were beyond my -comprehension. I was weary with wondering, too. In spite of myself I had -become enmeshed in a network of mysteries, and, seemingly without -reason, my very life might be in danger. But more than all, I was -ignorant concerning the fortunes of the maid Nancy Molesworth, and I -would have given up willingly the thing dearest to me on earth to know -of her safety. - -I will not try to write down all my anxieties, and hopes, and fears. I -will not try to tell of the mad feelings which possessed me, of the wild -projects I dreamed about, or of the love which grew hourly more ardent, -and yet more hopeless. Those who have read this history will, if the -fires of youth run in their veins, or if they remember the time when -they were young and buoyant, know what I longed for, and what I -suffered. - -The following morning Master Lethbridge came to me and informed me that -my companions of the previous day had started on their journey home, and -that in remembrance of my generosity of the previous night,--with a hint -concerning his hopes of future favours,--he intended braving the -governor's anger, and would allow me to occupy the Witch's Tower until -such time as Master Hugh Pyper should be inclined to speak with me. He -also assured me that he would allow me to walk about within the -precincts of the castle walls, but warned me against any attempt at -escape, as warders were constantly on the watch and would not hesitate -to shoot me dead. - -Although I did not believe this, I could not at that time see the wisdom -in trying to escape, so I wandered round the castle grounds thinking -over my condition and over my prospects. It is true I had not seen -Master Hugh Pyper, the governor of the Castle, but it was not difficult -to see that he was somewhat lax of discipline. As for that matter, -however, the place was, I suspect, no better and no worse governed than -many other county prisons throughout the country. The jail itself, -however, was a wretched, noisome, evil-smelling place, where the -convicted and unconvicted suffered alike, and I dreaded the thought of -being removed from the Witch's Tower and placed in the common prison. I -discovered that I might possibly have to stay two months in the place -before my trial came off, as the spring assizes were often delayed as -late as the end of May, or even the beginning of June. It was, -therefore, a matter of considerable anxiety to me as to the kind of man -Hugh Pyper might prove to be, for on him would depend my well-being. I -remembered that my father had spoken of Sir Hugh Pyper, the grandfather -of the present governor, who after the restoration of the monarchy was -rewarded for his good service in the cause of the King by a grant of the -castle as lessee, and was made constable and keeper of the jail. I -assumed that the position was hereditary, and doubtless the present -castle governor would be invested with large powers. - -As to the place itself, apart from the unhealthy condition of the jail, -it is fair, and long to be remembered. The castle stands on a fine -eminence, and is surrounded by several acres of land. Under ordinary -circumstances I could have wished for no more pleasant place of -residence. The spring leaves were bursting everywhere, and every plant -and shrub gave promise that in a few days the country-side, which I -could plainly see from the Witch's Tower, would be a scene of much -beauty. My mind and heart, however, were so full of anxiety that I -fretted and fumed beyond measure, and panted for freedom as a thirsty -horse pants for water. I wanted to search for Nancy, to be assured of -her safety, and to fight for her if needs be. I longed, too, to solve -the many problems which faced me, not by quietly musing in solitude, but -by daring action in the world outside. For unlike some men, I can think -best when I have work to do. I cannot plan anything from the beginning. -My mind is so ordered that I desire only to decide definitely on the -first steps to be taken in any enterprise and then to be guided by -circumstances. - -I was brought before Master Hugh Pyper on the evening of the day after -my imprisonment, and at a glance I saw that he corresponded with the -picture I had drawn of him from Lethbridge's description. That he fed -well and drank much wine no one could fail to see. He was a big, burly -man, too, and I thought not of a very cautious nature. The papers which -had been signed by Viscount Falmouth lay before him as I entered the -room where he sat, and which he had been evidently reading. - -"Roger Trevanion," he cried, "I am sorry to see you here. Why, man -alive, can't you see how foolish it is to oppose the King! God is always -on the side of the kings, man, always. That's what my grandfather, Sir -Hugh, always said, and that's what I always say. Stick to the reigning -monarch! I knew your father, too. A man with a proud temper, but a good -fellow withal. He could drink well, could your father--drink all -night--and then be as merry as a lark in the morning. I can't; I must -have six good hours of sleep after as many with the bottle, and woe -betide the man who disturbs me! but after that I am as gay as your -father was. Now then, what have you been doing?" - -"Nothing wrong," I replied quietly. - -"But Boscawen shows a clear case against you. If all this is proved at -the assizes, by Gad, your neck will stretch." - -Upon this I spoke freely. I told Pyper that I was guilty of no treason, -that circumstances seemed against me, but that King George had no truer -subject than I. I made him believe me, too, for his manner became quite -sympathetic. - -"The Killigrews of Endellion!" he cried, when I had finished my history. -"Ah, lad, they are as deep as Dozmary Pool and as full of evil. No one -knows what they are. Some say they are no better than a gang of robbers, -others that they are angels of light. One report hath it that they are -plotting treason against the King, another that they spend their time in -finding out traitors and bringing them to book. Sir John Dingle believes -that they intend sailing with the wind. If the Pretender's cause fails, -as doubtless it will, for England will have no high monarchy and no -popery, these Killigrews will put in a strong plea for reward; but if -this young Charles ousts King George, which God forbid, then they will -prove that they have raised an army for him. But you can't catch 'em, -Roger Trevanion. Did you ever catch eels? I have; but it's slippery -work, slippery work. You must sand your hands well, and then they are so -slimy that they will slide through your fingers." - -"I believe all that, and I know there is a _prima facie_ case against -me. But I dare not tell all." This I said hesitatingly, for I hardly -knew my man. - -"Daren't tell all; what do you mean?" - -"Well, it is true I went to Endellion; true that I said many of the -things laid to my charge, but my visit there had nothing to do with -political matters." - -"What then? A woman?" - -I was silent, and I felt the hot blood rush to my face. - -"A woman! ha! ha!" laughed Pyper. "But did you tell my Lord Falmouth of -this?" - -"No." - -"Why?" - -"Because I dared not, I feared to do her harm." - -"But who is she? Tell me the history of the business. Look you, -Trevanion, I am sorry you are here; I know your family--who -doesn't?--and I should like to see you well out of this trouble. You see -I am not treating you like a prisoner." - -"I can tell you a little, but a very little," I replied. "Perhaps I -ought to tell you more than I do; but I am bound by promises. I went to -Endellion to carry away a lady from the house." - -"By Gad, you did! and you succeeded, you dog?" - -"I did." - -"Who is the lady?" - -Thereupon I told Pyper all I dared: enough, as I thought, to explain the -position in which I was placed, but not enough to break my faith with -Trevisa or to be of any service to the Killigrews. - -"But why did you seek to take the maid away?" - -"That I cannot tell at present," I replied. - -He was thoughtful for a second, and I began to see that Hugh Pyper had -more brains that I had given him credit for; then he said: - -"And the name of this maid, Roger Trevanion?" - -I hesitated for a second. - -"I think I know," he went on. "Is she not the child of Godfrey -Molesworth?" - -"Did you know him?" I asked - -"Know him!" he cried, "well. Why the woman he married was some relation -of the Killigrews, that is why old Colman became guardian of the child. -The mother was Irish. Godfrey Molesworth went to Ireland to marry her." - -"Was she a Catholic then?" - -"Yes. There was much talk about it at the time, for Godfrey was a strong -Protestant." - -My heart gave a leap, for I remembered some words which had dropped from -the lips of the Irish priest at Padstow. But I dared not mention them to -Pyper, they might have serious issues and explain much. They must be -pondered carefully, too. - -After this, many more questions were asked and answered, but they led to -nothing; neither need I write them down here. At the same time my -further conversation with this florid-looking old governor of Launceston -Castle revealed the fact that, in spite of his freedom in eating and -drinking, he was a keen observer of men and things, and was not easily -deceived. - -"I must keep you here, Roger Trevanion," he said presently, "for I have -my duty to perform; but I will make your stay here as pleasant as -possible. You shall not stay in the ordinary prison, but shall continue -to occupy the Witch's Tower. As far as food is concerned, too, you shall -be well supplied, even though I have to send it from my own table. But I -am doubtful as to the future, lad." - -"You think judge and jury will find me guilty?" - -"It will be to the Killigrews' interest to be against you, I am afraid. -As far as I can see, only one thing can save you." - -"And that?" I cried eagerly. - -"That the maid Nancy Molesworth shall appear on your behalf, and tell -the truth concerning you." - -"I do not know where she is." - -"But you can find out. You know where you took her." - -"No. She has left the place to which I took her, and no one knows -whither she has gone." - -He looked at me keenly for some seconds, as if trying to find out if -there was anything behind the words I had spoken. Presently he said: "If -I were you I would engage the keenest lawyer in Cornwall to find out, -and so prepare a case." - -"I have done that. I suppose he will be allowed to visit me?" - -"Yes, I shall allow you to have visitors. But mind, my lad, I can allow -no trying to escape. You are a dead man if you do!" - -As I sat in the Witch's Tower afterwards, I pondered over what he had -said. In truth, my case was more serious than I had thought. I saw that -did I not speak out boldly my life was in imminent danger, for the King -was very bitter against those who appeared to side with the Pretender. -To say that I longed for freedom would be but faintly to describe my -feelings! Yet what could I do? - -After I had been a prisoner for some time, I determined to try and -escape. Every day the conviction grew upon me that the maid Nancy needed -me. In my dreams I saw her hiding from her pursuers, I saw her at the -mercy of the Killigrews, and when I awoke I thought I heard her crying -to me to come and help her. - -As the days went by, too, I became nervous. Lying alone in the silence -of the Witch's Tower, and remembering all the stories I heard from -Lethbridge concerning the life of the woman who had been burnt there, I -became the prey of morbid fears. Often at night I thought I saw her -lifting her skinny hands out of the fire which consumed her and fancied -I could hear her dying cries. I, who had laughed at foolish -superstitions and prided myself on my firm nerves, shuddered each day at -the thought of the coming night, and when night came I suffered the -torments of the lost. - -And yet I dared not ask to leave the tower, for if I did I should -doubtless be put in the common jail. Here not only would my surroundings -be filthy and the atmosphere sickening, but I should be thrown into -contact with the other prisoners. - -Added to this, my chances of escape would be much lessened, for the -place was on the whole strictly guarded. Whereas while at the Witch's -Tower I was comparatively unmolested, I had a view of the world outside, -and I thought I saw means whereby I might, if fortunate, obtain my -liberty. To effect this I should have to bribe one of the jailers, and -my plans would take several days to carry out. Nevertheless, if there -was any chance of getting away from Launceston Castle, the fact of my -occupying the dismal chamber I have mentioned gave it me. - -I therefore determined to suffer all the ghastly spectres of the mind -which came to me during the night rather than seek to exchange my -prison. - -When I had been at Launceston jail about three weeks I received -information that a man was about to visit me. Wondering as to whom it -might be, I awaited his coming eagerly. At first I thought it might be -Mr. Hendy, the attorney, but I quickly discovered my mistake. It was not -the lawyer's figure that I saw coming across the castle yard towards me. -For the moment, indeed, I could not make out who my visitor was. He -looked like a fairly prosperous yeoman, and was, as far as I could see, -a stranger to me. But this was only for a minute. I quickly penetrated -the evident disguise, and felt sure that the man was Otho Killigrew. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -I ESCAPE FROM THE WITCH'S TOWER. - - -As may be imagined, the sight of Otho Killigrew set me a-wondering much, -for I knew he would not come to see me save for important reasons. -Doubtless he fancied I was in possession of some knowledge which he -hoped I might impart; but I hoped that by being careful I might lead him -to betray more to me than I should communicate to him. - -I therefore received him civilly, hard as it was to do so, but I saw -that he lacked his usual self-possession. He spoke more quickly than was -his wont, and his mouth twitched as though he were nervous and much -wrought upon. - -"Trevanion," he said, when we were presently left alone, "we have been -fighting a battle which I have won." - -"I thought so until I saw you coming towards me just now," was my reply -as I watched him closely. - -He flushed angrily, for he saw that I had divined his motives; but he -stuck to his guns. - -"Which I have won," he repeated. "When the assizes come off I shall have -to appear against you. I have only to repeat the evidence I gave to -Boscawen, and you will swing." - -"Possibly yes, probably no," was my reply. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Look you," I said boldly; "when I set out for Endellion I imagined the -kind of men I had to contend with; when I entered your house I took the -measure of your whole tribe. I knew that the Killigrews of Falmouth, -before that branch of the family died out, were honest loyal gentlemen, -but I saw that the Killigrews of Endellion were----" I stopped. - -"What?" he asked. - -"I will reserve my opinion," I replied; "but I can tell you this, I did -not go like a lamb to the slaughter." - -"It seems to me that you did," he replied with a sneer. "True, you -seemed to win for a time, and you succeeded in taking away my affianced -wife. But what is the result of it? You are in the county jail for -treason, and the hangman's rope is dangling over your head." - -"As far as that is concerned," I replied jauntily, for I determined to -put a bold face on the matter, "my neck is as safe as yours, as you will -find out in good time. As for the maid, she is where you will never get -her." - -"Do not be too sure," he replied; "we have not earned the title of -sleuthhounds for nothing." - -My breath came freer as he said this. I believed that he was ignorant of -the maid Nancy's whereabouts. Probably he had come to me in order to -obtain information. - -"Moreover," he went on, "you are here on a very grave charge. Unless it -is to my interest to do otherwise, I shall certainly give evidence -against you at the assizes, and nothing can save you from death." - -"Man alive," I replied, "you do not hold the destinies of the world in -your hand. There be men born of women besides Otho Killigrew." - -"But none that can save you." - -"I have no doubt but that you are a clever fellow, Killigrew," I said; -"but omniscience belongeth not to man." - -"Well, who can save you?" - -"Those who _will_ save me at the proper time." - -"Uncle Anthony cannot give evidence; he dare not show himself," replied -Otho; "neither will Nancy. She would thereby frustrate all her desires." - -Little as he might suspect it, he had by this answer revealed something -of his mind to me. For one thing, Uncle Anthony was still at large, and -it was evident that he thought the maid Nancy would sacrifice much by -appearing in a public way. - -"And what desires would she frustrate?" I asked with a laugh. - -"Maybe you know, may be you do not. I will assume that you do not," was -his answer. - -I laughed again, for I saw what his answer might mean. Upon this he -looked glum for some seconds, and seemed to hesitate as to what steps he -should take. - -"Look here," he cried presently. "I will admit you are a clever fellow, -Trevanion. It is a compliment you paid me, and I will return it. I will -not pretend that I came here out of pure desire to set you free. I did -not. But I can set you free!" - -"Undoubtedly." - -"And I will--if you, that is, if you make it worth while." - -"You wish to bargain with me, I know," was my answer; "why did you not -say so at first? But a bargain assumes _quid pro quo_." - -"Well, I'll give you as much as you give me." - -"What will you give?" - -"Your liberty." - -"And what do you require?" - -He hesitated a second, and then he spoke in his old measured way. -"First, I require to know where Mistress Nancy Molesworth is now. -Second, I wish you to tell me your reasons for taking her away from -Endellion. Third, I desire to be informed of all you know concerning -that lady." - -It was in the last question that my interest particularly lay. For, as -the readers of this history know, I myself was in almost total ignorance -of the things he desired to know. It is true, if I told him of my -conversation with Peter Trevisa and his son, he would form his own -surmises concerning Peter's plans, but even then I doubted if I should -impart the information he wanted. - -"You must surely know more about Mistress Nancy than I," I replied -evasively. "Did your father not take her at the death of her father? Did -he not send her to France? Did you not receive her at Endellion a few -months ago? What, then, should there be for me to impart?" - -"You know," he answered; "be frank with me. You were with her alone for -many hours, and she told you many things." - -"True, she told me many things," I replied; "but concerning what do you -wish me to speak?" - -Again he hesitated. I saw that he was afraid lest he might betray -himself, and this was what I desired him to do. - -"What do you know of her parentage, her father and mother's marriage? -What of her father's will?" - -"Was there a will?" I said at a venture, because I saw that it was by an -effort that he mentioned it. - -His face turned pale. Evidently I had touched a sore spot. My heart gave -a bound, for I connected his question with the remark the priest had let -fall at Padstow and Peter Trevisa's desire to get the maid at Treviscoe. - -"Come, Trevanion," he said again, "let us be frank." - -"Yes," I replied; "let us be frank. At present it is you who ask all the -questions, while you give no information yourself." - -"I have offered to pay you for your information," he said. "I have -offered you your liberty." - -"True," I answered, "you have offered it; but what assurance have I that -you would fulfil your promise? I would not trust you as far as I could -throw a bull by the horns. You have asked me many questions. By -answering them I should place a great deal of power in your hands. -Directly I told you all that you desire to know, you would leave -Launceston and act on the information I have given; then when I am -tried, what proof have I that you will tell the truth?" - -"On my word of sacred honour, I will set you free." - -"A snap of my finger for your sacred honour, Otho Killigrew," I cried, -suiting the action to the word. "Indeed, I very much doubt if you dare -to give such evidence as might set me free. Your family is too deeply -implicated." - -"Trust Otho Killigrew for that," he replied scornfully; "I always play -to win." - -"Look you," I said at length, "assuming that the charges you have -brought against me are not shown to be worthless before the assizes, and -reckoning that an order does not come from Hugh Boscawen to set me at -liberty, I might on certain conditions be inclined to make a promise." - -"What?" he cried eagerly. - -"I expect that in the ordinary course of things my trial will come off -in about a month," I said. "Well, if I am brought to trial, and you give -such evidence as will set me free, then when I am out of all danger I -might tell you what I know." - -"You do not trust me?" - -"Not a whit." - -"Yet you expect me to trust you." - -"A Trevanion never yet broke his word, while the promises of the -Endellion Killigrews are as brittle as pie-crust." - -I thought I was fairly safe in making this promise. I should in this -case insure my liberty; at any rate, I should give Otho a great -incentive to do his best to prove my innocence. Moreover, I had but -little to tell, even if I related all the suspicions to which I have -referred, and which shall be set down in due order. And even if my -information should be the means of placing the maid Nancy in Otho's -power, I should be at liberty to act on her behalf. - -"A month, a month," he said at length, as if musing. - -"During which time I shall be within the boundary walls of Launceston -Castle," I replied. - -"But if I go to Hugh Boscawen, and prevail upon him to give an order for -your release before the trial?" - -"Of course the promise holds good," and I laughed inwardly as I thought -how little I could tell him. - -"You will tell me where Mistress Nancy Molesworth is?" he cried. - -"I will tell you where I took her," I replied. - -"And why you took her away from Endellion?" - -"Yes." - -For a few seconds he hesitated as if in doubt. "In three days I will -return with an order for your release," he cried. - -After he had gone, I almost repented for what I had done, for I felt -afraid of Otho Killigrew. He played his cards in such a manner that I -did not know what he held in his hand. I realized that by telling him -who it was that employed me, I might give him an advantage, the full -meaning of which I could not understand. True, I should be at liberty -before telling him, and thus I had fancied I should be free to take -action in the maid's defence. But on consideration I could not but -remember that his fertile brain might conceive a dozen things whereby, -although I might be free from the charge of treason, I could still be -made powerless to render service. - -However, nothing could be accomplished without risk, and possibly the -risk that I had taken was the least possible under the circumstances. I -therefore tried to make plans of action which I might carry into effect -the hour I regained my liberty. Presently the old thought of seeking to -escape grew upon me. Supposing I could get away from the castle, I -should at the end of the three days be free from pursuit, for once Hugh -Boscawen's warrant were in Pyper's hands he could no longer be justified -in searching for me. The difficulty was in getting away and then eluding -my pursuers until such time as the governor should receive Falmouth's -communication. I had many times considered the position of the Witch's -Tower, which was not far from the boundary walls of the castle grounds. -I saw that, in order to escape, I must first of all be able to either -break down the door or squeeze my body through one of the slits in the -walls of the tower. To do either of these things was not easy. The door -was heavy and iron-studded, besides being carefully locked; the slits in -the wall, which were really intended as windows, were very narrow, -certainly not wide enough for a man of my build to squeeze himself -through. But supposing this could be done, there were still the boundary -walls of the castle grounds which stood in the way of my escape. During -the hours of daylight, when I had been allowed to walk around the prison -grounds, I had carefully examined these, and I fancied I could manage to -scale them in one or two places. But they were closely watched through -the day, and at night I with the other prisoners was safely under lock -and bolt. - -Jenkins, the turnkey, was a man of average build and strength, and -should a favourable opportunity occur I could doubtless easily gag him -and take away his keys; but such an experiment was fraught with much -danger. Throughout the whole of the night following Otho Killigrew's -visit, during which time he was riding southward, I worked out my plans, -and when morning came prepared to carry them into effect. Although I -watched carefully through the whole of the morning no opportunity came, -and when the afternoon drew to a close and I had not even begun to act, -I felt exceedingly despondent. - -Two days after Otho Killigrew's visit, about an hour before sunset, I -saw Jenkins trying, as I thought, to catch my attention. He winked at me -several times, and placed his forefinger on his lip as though he -meditated on some secret thing. Lethbridge, however, was with him, and -so there was no opportunity for me to ask him what he meant. After a -while, however, seeing that Lethbridge had turned his back on us, he put -a letter in my hand. - -As may be imagined, as soon as I was able I broke the seal and read the -contents. It was written boldly in a man's hand. This was how it ran: - - - "At ten o'clock to-night the warder will visit you. He will be - alone. You must bind and gag him. Means to do this will be found in - his pockets. You must then leave the tower and make your way to the - angle in the boundary wall nearest your prison. You will there find - a rope hanging. On the other side of the wall you will find - friends." - - -I had never hoped for such a message as this. I had expected to be -shortly visited by Lawyer Hendy, but the thought that any one had been -planning for my escape had never occurred to me. Who my friends might be -I knew not, but they had evidently bribed Jenkins, at least such was my -thought. - -For an hour I was jubilant, but at the end of the time doubts began to -cross my mind. Was this some ruse of the Killigrews? Should I escape -only to tell Otho what I had promised him and then be captured by the -prison authorities? Again and again I looked at the handwriting. It was -altogether strange to me; but it was evidently the work of a man. Who -then but Otho would take such a step? - -And yet on reconsideration I thought he would know me better than to -believe I should answer his questions under such circumstances. He had -promised to prove my innocence to Lord Falmouth, and to obtain from him -a written warrant for my liberty. No, no; it must be some one other than -Otho. But who? - -Uncle Anthony! - -No sooner had the thought of him occurred to me than all my doubts -departed. The mysterious old hermit and storyteller had heard of my -condition, he had come to Launceston, and by methods peculiar to himself -had obtained an influence over Jenkins. Again I read the letter, and I -felt sure I saw his hand and mind in every word. - -Doubtless, too, he would be able to tell me much about the maid Nancy -which I desired to know, and perchance give me power over the -Killigrews. He had doubtless formed a plan of action and provided means -to carry it out. I could have laughed aloud, and even then I thought I -could see the grim smile upon the old man's face and the curious twinkle -of his deep-set eyes. - -Eagerly I waited for ten o'clock to come. Never did minutes seem to drag -along so wearily, never had the silence of my prison seemed so -oppressive. - -After much weary waiting, a clock began to strike. I counted the strokes -eagerly. It had struck ten. It was the church clock which struck, and I -knew that the jail was ordered by the time thereby indicated. For as all -who have been to Launceston know, the parish church is situated near the -castle, and is of rare beauty, while the sound of the bells seems to -come from the very heart of the ancient fortress. - -Knowing that the hour mentioned in the letter had arrived, therefore, I -was, if possible, more eagerly expectant than ever. My heart thumped -loudly at every sound, and in my heart I cursed the wailing of the wind -among the trees, because I thought it kept me from hearing the first -approach of my jailer. - -For a long weary time I waited, but no footsteps greeted my ears. I felt -my nerves tingling even to the bottom of my feet, and a thousand times I -imagined whisperings and altercations which had no actual existence. - -Presently the church clock struck again, and its deep tones echoed -across the valley towards St. Thomas' Church, and also towards St. -Stephen's, both of which lay in the near distance. Doubtless the rest of -the prisoners were asleep, and the sonorous sounds sweeping across hill -and dale was nothing to them. But to me it came like a death-knell to my -hopes. An hour had passed since the time mentioned in the letter I had -received had come, and still I had heard no one approach. - -I placed my body against the door and pressed hardly. It yielded not one -whit. I climbed to one of the windows in the wall and looked out. The -night was drear, the clouds hung heavily in the sky, neither moon nor -stars appeared. No sound reached me save the sighing of the wind among -the branches of the trees. - -Still I waited, still I listened--all in vain. - -The clock struck twelve. - -As the sound of the last stroke of the bell died away, I heard something -outside like the croaking of a raven; a few seconds later I heard -whispering voices. - -Again I climbed to the window in the wall and looked out. Beneath me, -perhaps ten feet down, I saw two human figures. One I thought I -recognized as Jenkins, the other was strange to me. The man whom I -concluded to be Jenkins carried a lantern in his hand, but it was but -dimly lighted. When lifted, however, it revealed to me a form wrapped in -a long cloak. No face was visible; it was hidden by a hood attached to -the cloak. - -"Open the door of the tower, I tell you." - -"I dare not." It was Jenkins who spoke, and his voice was full of fear. - -"But you promised." - -"I know I did; but I be feared, I tell 'ee. I shud be axed questshuns, -and I be es fullish as a cheeld." - -"I gave you money." - -"I know you ded; but there, I tell 'ee I caan't. Go 'way, do'ee now, or -we sh'll be vound out, an' it'll go 'ard wi oal ov us." - -"But I promised that all should be well with you, and that you should -have a big reward." - -"I knaw, I knaw. That maid you 'ad maade me veel silly, and she cud make -me promise anything, but that was in the daytime, when I wos as bould as -a lion. But tes night now, and I be feared, I tell 'ee. Besides, how -could you make et right fur me; ya be'ant nothin' but a youngish chap. -Who be 'ee? What be 'ee called?" - -"Who am I?" and as if by magic the voice which had reached me in a -hoarse whisper now became like that of an old woman. It was pitched in a -high key and it quavered much, save when it took a lower tone, and then -it became like the croaking of a raven. - -"Open the door of my tower," said the voice. - -I could scarce help trembling myself as I heard the tones, but the -effect on Jenkins was more marked. - -"_Your_ tower; oa my Gor!" he moaned. - -"Yes, my tower," said the voice, still alternating between the tones of -an old toothless woman and the hoarse croaking of a raven. "My tower; -the place where I was imprisoned, the place where I saw dark spirits of -the dead, and heard the secrets of those who cannot be seen by human -eyes. Here I lay, unloved, uncared for; here my bones were burnt and my -flesh was consumed; here my guilty soul took its flight, only to come -back and haunt my grim prison--sometimes in visible shape, sometimes -unseen save by the eyes of the departed. Open the door of _my_ tower, I -say, or you shall suffer the tortures I suffered!" - -"Oa, my Gor, my Gor!" moaned the trembling voice of Jenkins, "tes -Jezebel Grigg, the witch." - -"Will you open the door?" continued the voice. - -"Oa I caan't!" whined Jenkins like one demented; "when you slocked me -out in the mornin', you wos a spruce chap, and 'ad a purty maid weth -'ee. Oa 'ave marcy 'pon me, mawther Grigg; have marcy 'pon me!" - -"Mercy," was the reply, "mercy! You have broken your word--disobeyed me. -What shall keep me from causing your flesh to drop from your bones, your -fingers to wither amidst agonies of pain, your every limb to burn even -as mine burned when the fires were lit around me? Do you want to keep -company with me, John Jenkins? Open the door, or prepare to go with me -to-night!" - -"Oa, I will, I will," moaned Jenkins; "I will; but how did 'ee git in -'ere? The doors and gaates be all locked." - -"What are doors and gates to Jezebel Grigg's spirit?" and the hooded -form laughed; and the laugh to my excited ears was like the croaking of -a raven into which the spirit of evil had entered. - -I heard the clanking of keys at the door, and a second later Jenkins -entered, the lantern shaking in his hand, his face pale as death. - -"I say, Maaster," he said, his teeth chattering, his voice quavering. - -"Yes," was my reply, and if the truth must be told my heart quaked -somewhat, for by his side was the strange hooded form. - -"Follow me, Roger Trevanion," said the voice. - -"Where?" I asked. - -"To freedom." - -"Freedom from what?" for I liked not the dark shapeless thing greatly, -although I seemed to be upheld in a way I knew not. - -"From the law, from the Killigrews," was the reply in a hoarse whisper. - -"Very well," was my reply. "I am ready to follow you." - -"John Jenkins, you will take Roger Trevanion's place this night," said -my deliverer. - -"No, no," cried John, "I darn't stay 'ere oal by myself in your tower." - -"Speak as loud as that again, and you will follow me whither you would -not go. Listen, John Jenkins. You must stay here. I promise you this: no -harm shall come to you. I will not haunt the tower this night. There, -lie on the straw. If you make a sound before the church clock strikes -seven to-morrow morning you shall feel the power of Jezebel Grigg, the -witch who was burnt here. When you are asked questions in the morning, -tell the governor that you were seeing that all was safe for the night -when I came and put you here. Give me your keys." - -Like a thing half dead he obeyed, and though I was not altogether free -from superstitious fear I could not help laughing at the fellow's agony. - -"Now follow me, Roger Trevanion," said the hooded form, turning to me, -still in the voice of a toothless old woman. - -I followed without a word, but not without many misgivings, for although -I had professed to scorn the power of witches, I was at that time sore -distraught. Still she promised me liberty, and in my inmost heart I -believed that the creature was a friend. - -When we were outside the tower she locked the door carefully and placed -the key close by. After this she led the way to the angle in the wall -spoken of in the letter, where I saw the end of a rope ladder. - -"Climb, Roger Trevanion," she whispered. - -"You are a woman; go first," I said. - -"Climb, Roger Trevanion," she repeated imperiously; "your danger is -greater than mine." - -Much as I disliked doing this I obeyed. A few seconds later I stood on -the top of the wall, and turning round I saw the dim outline of the -castle looming up into the dark sky, while lying beneath it was the -unwholesome den where the prisoners lay. Looking beneath me, I could see -the hooded form of my deliverer, standing as still as a statue. On the -other side I saw three horses saddled. - -"Hold the rope while I climb." - -I held the rope as commanded, and a minute later the woman stood by my -side. - -"Could you leap to that branch of the tree, and descend to the path that -way?" she said, pointing to the spreading branches of an elm-tree which -grew close by. - -"Easily," I replied. - -"Then hold the ladder while I descend." - -Like one in a dream I obeyed, and then watched while with great agility -she descended from fifteen to twenty feet below. - -"Now be quick," she said, "all is ready." - -At that moment my heart gave a great leap, for I heard a cry come from -the Witch's Tower. A wild, despairing cry, more like the yell of a wild -beast than that of a human being. - -I took my hands from the rope, and immediately it was pulled away. I was -on the top of the castle wall alone. - -"Be quick, quick, or all is lost," cried a voice peremptorily from -beneath. - -I did not hesitate, dangerous as my feat was. In the gloom of the night -I saw the dark branch of the tree; I gave a leap towards it and caught -it. The branch yielded with my weight so much that my feet were only a -few feet from the ground. - -"Let go, let go!" - -I obeyed the command and dropped harmlessly to the ground. - -"Now be quick and mount!" - -A horse stood by my side, saddled and bridled. In an instant I leapt on -its back, noticing as I did so that I had now two companions instead of -one, and that they also mounted the horses that stood waiting. - -"Ride hard!" said my deliverer, turning her horse's face southward. - -I gladly obeyed, for I breathed the air of freedom. I was now outside -the great high walls within which I had been confined. The spring air -seemed sweeter there, while my heart grew warm again and all feelings of -fear departed. Midnight as it was, and dark as was the gloomy prison -from which I had escaped I seemed in a land of enchantment. - -Again a cry, a fearful agonizing cry came from the Witch's Tower, which -made me laugh aloud, for Jenkins' fears seemed foolish as I struck my -heels into my horse's sides. - -Neither of my companions spoke; they seemed as eager to get away as I. -We made no noise, for we rode through a meadow. Presently, however, we -jumped a low hedge, and then the iron hoofs of our steeds rang out on -the hard highway, but even as they did so we could hear the fearful cry -of John Jenkins, who lay imprisoned within the dark walls of the Witch's -Tower. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -DESCRIBES MY JOURNEY FROM LAUNCESTON CASTLE TO A LONELY MANSION -ACCOMPANIED BY TWO WOMEN. - - -The events I have just described happened so suddenly that I was too -excited to think seriously who my deliverer could be. I knew that -Jenkins would arouse the other jailers, and that in a few minutes the -governor of the prison would be acquainted with the fact of my escape. I -was sure, moreover, that much as I believed he sympathized with me, he -would seek to do his duty as the constable of the castle and bring me -back to the prison again. It is true Otho Killigrew had promised to -arrive the next morning with a warrant from Hugh Boscawen to set me at -liberty, but upon this I could not depend. I knew, moreover, that should -I be brought to trial the fact of my attempted escape would go against -me. We had several things in our favour. I imagined that we were mounted -moderately well. My horse carried me with seeming ease, although it was -too small of bone to keep up speed through a long journey. The steeds of -my companions kept breast to breast with mine. In any case, it must take -Hugh Pyper some considerable time to get horses in order to follow us. -Then the wind blew from the northeast, and thus the sound of our horses' -hoofs would be wafted away from my late prison. It would be, therefore, -difficult for him to determine which way we had gone, especially as -about a mile out of the town there were several branch roads. The night -was dark, too, and thus to track us would be impossible, at any rate, -until morning came. - -On the other hand, however, I was unarmed and practically alone. As far -as I knew my companions were two women, and although one of them had -effected my escape in a marvelous way, I suspected that if fighting -became necessary they would be a hindrance rather than a help. - -This led me to think who they might be, and to wonder who it was that -had impersonated the witch Jezebel Grigg who had been buried in the -tower where I had been confined. For, once out in the free open air, all -superstitious dread had departed. That it was Uncle Anthony I could no -longer believe. True, the veiled figure was quite as tall as Jenkins, my -jailer; perhaps taller, but in no way did it remind me of the lonely -hermit with whom I had talked so long on the top of Roche Rock, and whom -I had left sick and wounded in the ruined chapel in the parish of St. -Mawgan. - -Presently every fibre of my body quivered with a great joy, my blood -fairly leaped in my veins, and I could have shouted aloud for joy. My -deliverer was the maid Nancy! She had heard of my arrest, had traced me -to my prison, and had provided means for my escape. Hitherto I had been -the deliverer, I had schemed and fought for her escape from Endellion; -now all had changed. She had entered my prison walls and set me at -liberty, not for any selfish purposes of her own, but because of the -kindness of her heart. - -The thought was joy unspeakable; at the same time it filled me with -shame. She whom I had been willing to betray into the house of Peter -Trevisa for a bribe, had dared a thousand things to save me from danger -and possible death. - -A thousand questions flashed into my mind to ask her, but a weight was -upon my lips. She rode by my side, still covered with the dark mantle, -and still hooded. The other was doubtless her faithful serving-maid, -Amelia Lanteglos. True, her face was hidden and she spoke not, but even -in the darkness I thought I recognized her strong figure, recognized the -easy way she rode, even as hundreds of girls of her class rode in my -native county. - -Meanwhile the horses dashed along freely, the road was good, and nothing -impeded our progress. When we came to the junction of roads close by -Lewannick, she did not ride straight forward towards Altarnun, but -turned to the left through Lewannick village, until we came to four -crossways, called Trevadlock Cross. Soon afterwards we reached another -church town, North Hill by name, close by which a friend of my father -lived, at a house named Trebartha Hall. But we did not stay here, much -as I should have liked under ordinary circumstances to have spoken to my -father's friend. We crossed the River Lynher, a clear flowing stream -which rushes between some fine rugged hills, and then continued on our -journey until we reached the parish of Linkenhorne. - -"If we keep on at this speed, we shall be in the town of Liskeard in a -little more than an hour," I said presently, feeling that I could keep -silence no longer. Indeed I wondered much afterwards how I could have -been speechless so long, feeling sure as I did that the woman I loved -was by my side. - -No reply, however, was made to me; and my companions never so much as -moved their hoods from their faces. - -By this time our horses showed signs of fatigue; especially was mine -becoming spent, for I was no light weight to carry. - -"It will be well to rest at Liskeard," I said, "if only for the sake of -the horses." - -"No, we must not stay there." - -She tried to speak in the same tone as when she had commanded John -Jenkins to open the door of the Witch's Tower, but I thought I detected -the voice I had learned to love in spite of the hoarse whisper. - -"I have not spoken to you, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I replied -quietly, "for I thought you desired not speech, and I would not have -said aught to you now; only in an hour it will be daylight, and my horse -cannot carry me many miles farther." - -I thought I saw her start as I mentioned her name, while her companion -made a quick movement. But neither gave answer to my words. Silently we -sped along, my steed panting much but still holding out bravely. - -Presently we came to a steep hill, and in mercy to the poor animals we -had to allow them to slacken speed; indeed I sprung from my saddle and -walked by my horse's head. - -"We have ridden so hard that I have not had a chance to thank you for -this great service, Mistress Molesworth," I said; "indeed we had gone -several miles before I divined who you were. Words are poor, and they -cannot tell the gratitude I feel." - -She made no answer to my words. - -"At first I dared not believe it could be you; indeed I knew of no one -who could bring me deliverance;" and still she kept her hood closely -around her head, answering nothing. - -"Your heart is kind," I went on, "and unlike women generally, you are -not afraid of danger. Believe me, I am not ungrateful. I am your servant -for life. I am afraid you are still in danger, and I rejoice that I am -free to help you." - -Daylight was now dawning, indeed I could see the colour of her gray -cloak plainly. - -"Will you not pull aside your hood?" I said, scarcely thinking of my -words. - -She did not obey me, but I noticed her gloved hand tremble. I saw, too, -that she reeled in her saddle. - -"You are ill!" I cried, and then I rushed to her side, for she was -falling from her horse. During the hours of danger and hard riding she -had shown no sign of weakness, but now the danger was far behind, her -woman's weakness overcame her. - -As I caught her, she fell in my arms like one in a dead faint; so I -laid her carefully on the grassy bank beside the road. By this time the -other woman had dismounted and had come to her side. - -"Watch here, while I go and fetch some water," I cried, and then seeing -a pool near by, I stooped and scooped some in the hollow of my hand. -When I came back, however, she was sitting up, and both women had drawn -their hoods more closely around their faces. If it were Mistress Nancy, -she did not wish me to recognize her. But it must be she, for who else -would have gone through so much to come to me? She must have travelled -with her companion some sixty miles through a lonely part of the country -in order to get to Launceston, and when there must have braved all sorts -of dangers in order to effect my liberty. The thought made my heart -swell with such pride and joy that my bosom seemed too small to contain -it. In spite of my baseness in selling myself to Peter Trevisa, she -could not altogether despise me. I knew now that I had never loved the -maid to whom I thought I had given my heart as a boy. My feeling for her -was only a passing passion, of no more importance than chaff, and as -light as thistledown. But all was different now. I was thirty-two years -of age, and I had given all the strength of my life to her. True, my -tongue was tied. I could not tell her of the fire that burned in my -heart--I was, I knew, unworthy. By that fatal confession, as we rode by -Tregothnan Gates through Tresillian, I had forever made it impossible -that she could think of me as I thought of her. Besides, I was homeless -and landless. Looking at her as she sat there on the dewy bank that -early spring morning, I would rather have lost my right arm than take -the wages of my service to Peter Trevisa. The purity and truth of her -life roused within me the nobility of my race. Better be a beggar from -door to door than accept the prize of base service. I who had ceased to -believe in the goodness of women, now realized that this maid made me -ashamed of all the past and caused to arise in me a longing for the pure -and the true. But my love for her was none the less hopeless. How could -it be, when I was minute by minute dogged by the memory of the hour when -I promised to be a Judas? - -"Are you better?" I asked as gently as I could, for I knew how boorish I -had become through the years. - -"Yes, yes; we must hasten on. We may be followed." This she said like -one afraid. - -"But whither?" I asked. "If you would tell me your plans, your wishes, I -could perchance carry them out. But you are overwrought--you need rest." - -"No, no, I am quite strong. I can easily ride another thirty miles," and -her voice was hoarse and unnatural. - -"Even if you could, my horse is not fit to carry me so far," was my -reply. - -"But you are not out of danger." - -"We must be thirty miles from Launceston Town," I said, "and no one -could find me with ease even here. But to what spot did you intend that -I should go?" - -It seemed strange even then that I should be following the plans of a -woman; strange that a simple maid, as I believed her to be, should -provide for me a safe hiding-place. - -"I would rather not tell you," she replied; "that is, I think I had -better not. You can trust me?" This she said wistfully, I thought. - -"In everything," I answered eagerly, "but will you trust me, too? You -are not fit to travel further, and after a few hours' rest we shall all -be better. Let us go to yonder farmhouse and ask for food and shelter." - -"Such an act might be dangerous." - -"No. All our Cornish folk are hospitable; besides, my money has not been -taken from me. I can pay the good folk well." - -She eagerly caught at my proposal, so eagerly that I wondered at her -swift change of opinion. A few minutes later, therefore, I stood -knocking at a farmhouse door, asking for food and shelter for man and -beast. - -At first both the farmer and his wife looked at us suspiciously, but -when I told him of my deliverer's weariness, how that she had fainted -and fallen from her saddle, they gave us a warm welcome. Half an hour -later, I sat with these farmer folk at breakfast, but my companions, -still keeping their hoods tightly drawn around their faces, had followed -the woman of the house into another apartment. - -After breakfast the farmer's wife provided me with a couch, in what she -called "the pallor," where I gladly stretched my weary body and -immediately fell asleep. When I awoke the afternoon was well advanced. -Food was again placed before me, and after I had partaken thereof I went -out into the farmyard to look after the horses. I had scarcely reached -the stables when a sound reached my ears that made my heart sink like -lead. It was the noise of many voices, and was not more than a mile -away. - -Without waiting a second I threw the saddles on the horses, and then -rushed into the house. The farmer's wife had left the kitchen, leaving -my companions alone. They were still closely hooded. - -"Come," I cried, "we must start at this moment!" - -"Why?" - -"The hue and cry!" - -"I am ready," she said, quietly but resolutely. - -"Are the horses ready?" - -"They are saddled and standing in the yard." - -"Come then," and both left the room without another word. - -At that moment the farmer's wife came into the kitchen again. Thinking -it would be unwise to tell her our reason for leaving suddenly, I threw -two guineas on the table, and then with a hurried good-bye left. - -By this time the sound had become nearer, and my conjecture became -confirmed. - -"It may not be you they are after," she said; "they would hardly come so -far." - -Perhaps she was right. I remembered that hours ere this papers might -have been placed in Hugh Pyper's hands commanding him to set me at -liberty. - -"Still it will be safer farther south," I said. - -By this time we had mounted our horses and were galloping along the farm -lane which led to the high road. She whom in my heart I called my love -was still clothed in her long gray cloak, her face still hidden from my -sight. All weakness seemed to have left her now; she was the embodiment -of resolution, and courage, and strength. - -The sounds of pursuers became fainter and more distant. - -"If we go through Liskeard at this speed we shall attract attention, and -if the people be following us, they will be informed of the direction we -have taken." - -"But we will not touch Liskeard," I said. "I know the country well now. -If you will tell me where you wish to go I will guide you by the least -traversed roads." - -"Go to Lostwithiel then," she said; "after that I will act as guide." - -Wondering at her words, I led the way through the village of St. Cleer, -leaving Liskeard on our left, until after more than two hours' hard -riding we came to the village of Boconnoc. - -Arrived here, I stopped suddenly, for a suspicion entered my mind as to -the place she intended to go. - -"Look you, my lady," I said, "we are at Boconnoc, five miles only from -Lostwithiel; will you tell me of your intended destination?" - -"You said you would trust me," was her reply. - -"I remember," I cried, harshly I am afraid, because for the first time -since boyhood the feeling of jealousy made me almost beside myself. "But -let me ask you one question. Is it your intention to go to Polperro?" - -"And if I do not desire to go there?" she said, after hesitating a few -seconds, "what then?" - -"I will go with you whither you will, asking no questions." - -"But you do not desire to go to Polperro?" - -I was silent, but I hoped that she understood my feelings. - -"In three hours, four at the most, we ought to be at our journey's end -if we ride hard," she said, "until then I ask you to trust me." - -With this I was fain to be content, and almost ashamed of myself, we -continued to ride southward. An hour later I saw that my suspicions were -groundless. We were going away from Polperro. After we had passed -Lostwithiel I asked her to be the guide, but she told me to lead on to -St. Austell, after which she would choose the road. - -About two hours after dark we entered a part of the country that was -strange to me, but my guide evidently knew the road well, for in spite -of the darkness she never hesitated as to the way we should take. -Presently we came to a lane, down which we rode for some distance, and -then stopped at a small house, which in the darkness looked to me like -a lodge. No sooner did we stop than a light shone, and a minute later I -heard a gate swing on rusty hinges. - -"All well?" - -"All well," was the reply, which I judged was spoken by an old man. - -We passed through the open way, after which I heard some one lock the -gates. - -By this time the sky, which had been cloudy all day, cleared. There was -no moon, but the stars shone clearly overhead. As well as I could I -looked around me, and saw that we were riding along what seemed to me a -disused carriage drive. Huge trees bordered the way, the branches of -which nearly met overhead. The leaves were far from fully grown, -however; and thus looking upward I could see the stars twinkling. - -The memory of that night will never leave me. Even now the feelings -which possessed me then come back. Everything seemed unreal. The dark -trees on either side of the way looked like tall spectres, the women who -had been with me since the previous night seemed mere phantoms of the -mind. The clank of the horses' hoofs grated on my excited nerves until I -felt like crying out. - -Neither of us spoke. I was too much wrought upon. Perhaps they were. -What had seemed reasonable enough in the day appeared like madness now. -In spite of what I had seen and heard I could not believe that the maid -Nancy would expose herself to so much danger in order to rescue me. - -Darker and darker became the road, for huge evergreens, laurels, and -rhododendrons grew between the oaks. Moreover, I saw that we were -descending into a valley. The night winds swept among the trees, making -sweet music, but to me it was like the dirge of death. A bat darting to -and fro struck my face with its wing, and an owl hooted dismally. - -"How much further?" I asked, more because I wanted to hear the sound of -human voices than from desire to ask questions. - -But no reply was given, and but for the love in my heart, I felt, strong -man as I was, like giving way to fear. - -Presently I saw a faint twinkling light, and afterwards the dark outline -of a huge building appeared. A few minutes later we had come up close to -an ivy-covered house. - -My companions dismounted and motioned me to do the same. Then out of the -shadows came a man and took the horses. I heard a bell clang through a -seemingly empty building, and then the door by which we stood opened. - -"Come in." - -I obeyed, feeling more than ever that my experiences could not be real. - -"This way, please." - -I followed my companion without a word along a wide corridor, after -which I descended some steps, until I imagined I must be below the level -of the earth. Then she opened the door of a compartment, and we entered -together. - -It was a low-ceiled room, but looked comfortable and well-appointed. A -lamp burned brightly on the table, and a cheerful wood fire burned in -the chimney place. Before the fire a huge armchair was placed. - -"Will you sit here and rest? I will return presently." - -Mechanically I obeyed, and a moment later I was left alone. The room, -the house--everything was as silent as death. I walked around the -apartment, and stamped my feet to assure myself that I was not dreaming. -I held my hands before the wood fire, and lifted the logs from place to -place so that I might convince myself that I had not entered an -enchanted region, such as I had read about in my boyhood. Then I -examined the room more closely. I could nowhere discover a window. What -did it mean? Had I been removed from one prison to another? Had I been -mistaken as to the identity of my deliverer? Why had she kept her face -hidden? It must have been her. Who else would have undergone so much? - -I sat down in the chair, and stretched my legs wearily. Twenty-four -hours before I had sat straining my ears in the Witch's Tower of -Launceston Castle, and now I was immured in a far more lonely spot. I -had asked no questions because I believed that the woman I loved rode by -my side. Had I done right? - -A distant rumbling noise reached me. Where was I? To whom did this house -belong? By what right had I been brought here? - -I heard a knock at the door, and a second later an old man entered. - -"If you will follow me, sir, you shall have change of raiment, and -water to wash with." - -Like one in a dream I followed him, and to my astonishment I found in an -adjoining compartment not only clothes but arms. A sword hung by the -wall, a pair of pistols lay on a table. The clothes were well made and -of good quality as befitted a gentleman. - -"Here is all you will want, I think, sir. When you have washed and -dressed will you be pleased to go back to the other room?" - -A few minutes later I had removed the muddy-stained garments which I had -worn in Launceston Castle, and had clothed myself in those which lay in -the room. They looked quite new, as though they had just come from the -hands of a tailor. They fitted me well, too; and I must confess to a -feeling of pleasure as I beheld myself. - -When I returned to the room into which I had at first entered, I found -that the table had been spread for food, but no one was in it. Again I -sat down and tried to think, but my mind seemed a blank--I was dazed -with the experiences of the last twenty-four hours. - -Presently my heart beat fast, for I heard light tripping footsteps -outside the room door. This was followed by gentle knocking. - -"Come in." - -The door opened, and to my joy Mistress Nancy Molesworth entered. She -met me with a smile, but there was, I thought, something distant and -repellant about it. - -"Food will be immediately brought, Master Trevanion," she said. "I am -sure you must need it." - -"I need something more," I replied. - -"And that?" was the response. "Anything in my power to give, you shall -have." - -"The removal of mystery," I replied. "I have spent the whole of this day -like one in a dream. I seem to be enveloped in shadows." - -"I have much to tell you by and by," she answered. - -"And much to ask, too, I trust," I cried. "You have saved me from I know -not what; for I know it is you to whom I owe everything. You will let me -serve you, for verily you need service." - -"We will talk of many things at the proper time," she replied, "but food -is being brought." - -Both of us stood silent while the old serving-man brought food; then -when he had gone she turned to leave me. - -"Mistress Molesworth," I said, "you will not condemn me to eat my food -alone. May I be honoured with your company at supper?" - -She hesitated a second. "Thank you," she said, "you will desire quiet -after so much excitement. I will return to you to-morrow." - -I sat down with a sad heart, and ate the food with but a poor appetite. -During my meal I heard only one sound. It was that of a clock striking -the hour of midnight. - -After supper I went into the bedroom I have mentioned, and fell into a -deep sleep, from which I did not wake till late next day. When I got up -I hoped to see Mistress Nancy at once, and so was mightily disappointed -when the old serving-man brought me a message from her telling me that -she would not be able to visit me till night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -MISTRESS NANCY TELLS ME MANY THINGS. - - -"I can think of nothing to say to you till I have thanked you again and -again for a service which I thought no woman could render." - -"It is of that which I do not wish to speak." - -"But I must. I did not believe a woman could possess such rare courage -and foresight. I did not believe a woman could plan so well, execute so -bravely. Especially do I wonder when I realize my own unworthiness. I -thank you from the depths of my soul." - -Mistress Nancy had visited my compartment as she had promised, and at my -request she sat on a low seat by the fire, while I stood leaning on the -back of the huge chair which I have mentioned. She wore the same -garments as when we had travelled together for the first time. Her face -was pale, but very beautiful; her dark eyes shone with a look of -resolution; her dark curling locks glistened in the lamp-light. - -"I did not mean you to know who your deliverer was. But it does not -matter." She spoke indifferently, I thought. - -"It does matter!" I cried vehemently. "I should be base indeed if I do -not remember such service with gratitude until my dying day." - -"I did what no woman could help doing." This she said slowly. - -"I do not understand." - -"Yet there should be no difficulty in doing so. You rescued me, you -thought of me, acted for me." - -"Mention not that again," I replied bitterly, "I am sorely ashamed." - -"I do not mean the--the first part of the journey, but afterwards. I -have heard of your trial before Lord Falmouth, heard of what Otho -Killigrew said. You refused to tell all the truth because you feared to -hurt me. You did not wish that man to know anything concerning me." - -I wondered who her informant might be, but I did not speak. - -"When I knew you were taken to Launceston, and feeling sure that Otho -would show no mercy if you were brought to trial, I did my best. I could -do no other--I--I--would have done the same for any one." - -She spoke coldly; her tones were hard and unfeeling. My heart grew -chill; the hope that arose in me, in spite of myself, was dispelled. - -"Thank you," I said, as steadily as I could. "But why--why did you wish -me to remain in ignorance--as to who you were?" - -"Because I thought it was better so. No one who saw me in Launceston -would recognize me now." - -"What disguise did you wear? What means did you use to--to effect my -escape; that is, beyond those I know of?" - -"I would rather not tell you." - -I was silent again, for her manner made me feel that she still scorned -me. I looked towards her; she was gazing steadily into the fire. - -"Where am I now?" I asked, after a painful silence. - -"At Restormel." - -"Ah!" - -"Does the fact surprise you?" - -"Everything surprises me. Nothing surprises me. I am somewhat dazed. -Restormel, that is your father's house, your own home?" - -"My father's house--yes. My own home--I know not." - -"What do you mean?" and at that moment I remembered the suspicions which -were aroused in my mind by Otho Killigrew's questions. - -Again she refrained from replying, her eyes still fixed on the glowing -embers. - -"Let me tell you something," I cried. "My thoughts may be groundless, -but it may be well for you to know them." - -Then I related to her the conversation I had had with the Catholic -priest at Padstow. At that time I had not regarded it of importance, as -it simply referred to a complaint about the unfairness of the marriage -laws, where Catholics were concerned. After this I told her of Otho -Killigrew's visit, of what he had said, and of the bargain we had made. - -"On consideration I thought it best to promise him this," I concluded. -"He aroused certain suspicions in my mind, and I thought I could still -serve you if I were free. It may be I acted wrongly, but I thought it -was worth the risk." - -During the recital she uttered no sound. She seemed to be much changed -since that night when we had parted at Treviscoe. - -"And I--I have relieved you of the necessity of telling him anything, I -suppose?" she said icily. - -"Yes," I replied, feeling that she mistrusted me again. I longed to ask -her what had happened since the night I had left her with Peter Trevisa, -but I dared not; her manner froze the words on my lips. - -"You do not know why Trevisa asked you to take me to his house?" she -said presently. - -"I only know what he told me. I knew that was not all the truth. He -thought he had some hold upon you." - -"And you had no idea what it was?" - -"Not then." - -"And now?" - -"Nothing but what was aroused in my mind by what I have just told you." - -"Master Roger Trevanion," she said, rising from her seat and facing me, -"you tried to persuade me not to go to that man's house." - -"I did." - -"And I persisted in going. I did so for two reasons." - -"And they?" - -"One was that you should be able to claim the price of your hire." - -"Do not taunt me with that." - -"The other was that I determined to find out the reason he had in -wishing to get me there. I had not been able to understand all the -Killigrews had hinted from time to time. I thought that Trevisa's -motives might have a connection with what they had said." - -"And you were not afraid?" - -"Women are not all so cowardly as you think. I might have acted -differently had his son been with him, but when I found him alone I -determined to stay until I had discovered what was in his mind." - -"And you discovered it?" - -"Yes." - -I could not help admiring her as she stood there before me so brave, so -far-seeing, so resolute. She was barely twenty-one. She had revealed to -me all the weaknesses, all the tenderness of a woman; yet now, after -having accomplished what few men would think of attempting, she was -calmer than I. As I have said, she was taller and more largely formed -than most women, and the hand that rested on a table by her side was as -firm as a man's. No one could in any way associate her with littleness -or poverty of nature. Everything told of purity, of nobleness, of beauty -of life. Remembering my bargain with Trevisa, I dared not look at her; -but I was glad I had refused to take the price of my work. - -I waited for her to continue, for I felt I had no right to ask her -questions. - -"You told me," she went on, "that Peter Trevisa was a cunning, -evil-minded man. You were right. Like all such men, he judged the -motives of others by his own. What he would do under certain -circumstances, he would expect others to do." - -"Yes, that is so." - -"He thought, acting on this principle, that if he could get me into his -house, I should be glad to fall in with his plans." - -"He told me that his son Peter had seen you at Endellion," I said; "that -he fell in love with you, that it was the intention of Colman Killigrew -to marry you to his son whom you hated, that I should be rendering you a -service by taking you to him." - -"Do not speak of his son's love," she said; "the thought of it is not -pleasant. It is true he told me the same story. I did not sleep in the -house that night. Directly after your lawyer had gone I told him I -desired to speak with him. He fawned and professed to be delighted. -Presently his real reasons for trying to get me into the house came out. -He tried to keep them back until his son came home, but in this he -failed." - -"And what were his reasons?" I asked eagerly in spite of myself. - -"The first was this: He said he could prove that my father's marriage -was illegal, and--and thus I had no true claim to the Restormel lands. -You suspected this?" - -I nodded. - -"He told me, moreover, that he alone possessed the knowledge whereby it -could be proved that I was not the rightful heir. If he did not disclose -what he knew, no one would doubt my rights; or even if they doubted, -they could have no case against me; if he told what he knew, I should be -penniless." - -"I see," I cried; "I see. Then he named the price of his silence." - -"Yes." - -"Of course that was that you should marry his son. I see. It was -cunningly planned. He thinks his son Peter is a sort of Apollo, and he -imagined that you would desire to effectually stop him from speaking by -becoming his daughter. It would then be to his advantage to be silent." - -"That was a part of his plan, but not all. He has found out that I -possess knowledge of great importance." - -"Knowledge of great importance?" - -"Yes. It concerns the coming of Charles Stuart." - -"You have seen the Pretender!" I cried. - -"I have seen Charles Stuart. He visited the convent in which I was -educated. He came once when Colman Killigrew was present. He sought to -enlist my sympathies. I do not know why; but both he and Colman -Killigrew discussed plans in my presence." - -"And young Peter Trevisa found out this. How?" - -"I do not know." - -"Is your knowledge of such importance that it might be valuable to such -as Hugh Boscawen?" - -"Yes." - -I longed to ask further questions, but refrained from doing so. - -"Peter Trevisa believed that if I told him what I knew his son would be -able to make use of it. The father is very ambitious for his son. He -imagines that if he were to communicate important knowledge to the King -it would mean preferment--perhaps knighthood." - -"I see his plot." - -"I refused to marry his son." - -"Yes." - -"I told him that even were his statements as to my father's marriage -true, I would rather be penniless--than be bought." - -I do not think she meant it, but her words hurt me like a knife-thrust. - -"After that he changed his ground of attack," she went on quietly; "he -said that if I would tell him what I knew of Charles Stuart's plans, his -secret should die with him. He represented this as my duty. He said I -might be saving the country, as well as giving his son Peter the -greatest chance of his life. After this he went on to say that it was a -shame for me to be robbed of my rightful heritage because of an unjust -law." - -"And after that?" I broke in eagerly. - -"He said he would not have my answer that night; he would wait until -young Peter came home." - -"And you, of course, refrained from giving him an answer?" - -"No. I told him that he could act as he pleased. Did I feel it a duty to -inform the authorities concerning what I knew, I should do so without -threat." - -"And what did he say?" - -"He denied all knowledge of threat. He called it an _arrangement_. He -used honeyed terms; he was full of flattery. He professed to be -delighted at my refusal to comply with his wishes, even while he used -many means to lead me to alter my mind. He called himself all sorts of -names for speaking to me in such a brutal way. He was only an old fool, -he said, and had not stated the case properly; but when young Peter came -back everything would assume a different aspect." - -I could easily imagine the scheming old wretch while she told me of this -interview. I could see his shifty, cunning eyes gleaming. I could hear -him using all sorts of honeyed terms in order to gain his ends. - -"And the conclusion of it all?" I asked at length. - -"I left the house that night." - -"How?" - -"By means of Amelia. She found out the position of the stables. She -saddled the horses, and we left Treviscoe without any one knowing about -it." - -"And you came here?" - -"Yes." - -"But you are in danger. Peter Trevisa is as cunning as the devil. Both -father and son are like ferrets; they can crawl into any hole. They see -in the dark. In order to get here, you must have taken some one into -your confidence. That some one may betray your trust." - -She walked slowly across the room, and then came back to her former -position. - -"That night--when I left Endellion," she replied, "I took certain things -away with me. Little relics left me by my father. I had heard that the -house was left in charge of two old servants--one a kind of bailiff, who -was commissioned by Colman Killigrew to act as steward until I should -come of age." - -"I see, yes." - -"He has lived here all these years, with his wife. My guardian has -visited Restormel only occasionally, but old Adam Coad has been a -faithful old man. My father left a letter for me when he died, with -orders that I should read it as soon as I was old enough. In it he -mentioned this man as a faithful, loving servant. I wrote to Adam twice -while I was in France; but I received no reply from him." - -She ceased speaking, and I saw her lips tremble. Perhaps she remembered -that she was a fatherless girl, and that her path was beset with snares. - -"I accidentally heard while at Endellion that he was alive and that he -managed the estate under my guardian's supervision." - -"You brought your father's letter with you?" I suggested. - -"Yes." - -"But there is a lodge. We passed through the gates to-night." - -"Fortune favoured me. That morning, after I had escaped from Treviscoe, -just as I came up to the lodge gates, I saw two men talking to each -other. I heard the one call the other Adam Coad." - -"I see; and Adam received you?" - -"After I had proved to him who I was--yes." - -"And--and you trust him?" - -"He is all my father said of him, and more. He has been kindness itself -to me; through him I was able to bring you here. You are safe, too. Old -Adam, his wife, and a serving-man who has lived with them all these -years, are all, I verily believe, ready to die for me." - -"Then you are staying here in secret?" - -"Yes." - -"And you have heard nothing of the Trevisas?" - -"I know they have been searching for me." - -"But they have disclosed nothing concerning your father's marriage?" - -"No; I believe not." - -"You found out that I had been taken prisoner through Adam, I suppose?" - -"Yes. He looks a quiet, inoffensive old man; but he is very shrewd and -not easily deceived. I told him that you had effected my escape from -Endellion, and he knew enough of the Killigrews to be sure that they -would have many schemes afoot." - -"But if they suspect that you are here?" - -"They would have a difficulty in finding me. This house has many rooms -not easily discovered. This room is not known to the Killigrews. It is -underground. The doorway cannot be seen from the outside, and can only -be opened by touching a spring." - -"I see; and you will stay here until you come of age?" - -Again her lips trembled, and she moved nervously across the room. - -"I wish I could be of further service to you," I said at length. "I am -glad that you trust me enough to--to tell me what--what you have told -me. Will you trust me further? Will you tell me all you can about your -father's marriage? Believe me, I will rest neither night nor day until I -have found out whether there is any truth in Peter Trevisa's -statements." - -"You will have to stay here--in privacy. You are not safe," was her -reply. "That is, you must stay here until you can escape to France." - -"You forget," I replied, "you forget Otho Killigrew's promise. If he -hath laid such information before Hugh Boscawen as to lead him to give -an order for my freedom, all danger is gone." - -"You have still escaped from Launceston Castle." - -"Yes, but if Hugh Pyper receives Viscount Falmouth's warrant for my -freedom, he will say naught of my escape. Look, Mistress Nancy, let me -serve you." - -I spoke like a schoolboy. I thought nothing of difficulties, I almost -forgot the danger through which I had passed. Neither did I realize the -importance of the news she had just imparted. The last ten years of my -life seemed only a dream; I was a boy of twenty-two instead of a man of -thirty-two. The maid had made me long to do impossible things, to -undertake impossible missions. It has been said by some great writer -that a convent school destroys all foresight, all calculation in a young -girl's life. That continuous solitude, save for the companionship of her -fellow-scholars, and seclusion from the life of the world, lead her to -conjure up in her imagination all the romantic scenes which young girls -love, even although she has never heard of such things. That on leaving -the convent she is a prey to first impressions, and longings for love -and romance; thus she never troubles about results, never comprehends -difficulties and dangers. - -Mistress Nancy proved this man to be wrong. Of the depths of her nature -I knew but little, of her heart's longing I was ignorant; but she was -constantly revealing to me a rare power of penetration; she was cool, -courageous, and full of forethought. On the other hand, she seemed to -know but little of the world's wisdom. The thought of losing her wealth -caused her no apparent distress; the supposition that her father's -marriage was not legal seemed to bring no painful thoughts to her mind. -The bare thought of illegitimacy would bring anguish unspeakable to -some; Mistress Nancy seemed to reck nothing of it. In this sense she was -a child, ignorant of the ways and thoughts of the world; in others she -was capable of independent and daring action. - -"Believe me," I continued presently, "to serve you is the dearest -thought of my life. I owe it to you," I added as if in explanation. - -"It would be wrong for you to rush into danger," she replied calmly. "If -you are freed from danger, then I will claim your help again. But I have -friends, and I am not afraid." - -I looked into her eyes as she spoke, and I saw that no fear was -expressed there. She did not seem to realize her position, and yet her -words belied her apparent ignorance of the danger by which she was -surrounded. - -"You say that your knowledge concerning the Pretender is of importance," -I said, after a pause. - -"Yes." - -"Is it right to keep it secret?" - -"I do not understand." - -"If Charles comes to England, it will mean civil war," I cried; "it will -mean that the whole country will be in turmoil. If the Pretender -succeeds in his design, a reign of ignorance, bondage, and oppression -will curse the country." - -"Tell me your reasons for saying this," she replied. - -"Are you a Catholic?" I asked. - -"I do not know," was her answer. "I suppose so. I was trained in a -convent school, but I have been told that my father hated the Catholic -religion, and I know that he would hate nothing that was good. I am but -an ignorant girl; I think I must have purposely been kept ignorant." -This she said plaintively. - -"Let me tell you of these Stuarts," I cried. "Let me relate to you what -Charles I. and Charles II., as well as James II., have done for -England." - -I spoke eagerly; I told of the profligacy of the Stuart court, of the -wanton extravagance, and of the corruption of the race. I had proceeded -but a little way in my story, however, when I heard a quick footstep -outside the door, and immediately after an old man stood in the room. - -"Is anything the matter, Adam?" cried Mistress Nancy. - -"Yes, dear lady," answered he; "Colman Killigrew, his son Otho, and -others are nearing the house." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT UNCLE ANTHONY WAS MORE THAN A DROLL. - - -As may be imagined, Adam's message excited me much. What purpose had -Colman Killigrew in coming to Restormel so late at night? And Otho, what -was the meaning of his being present? Had either of them any suspicion -of my whereabouts? For myself I had but little fear, but what of Nancy? - -I looked eagerly into her face, but she was perfectly calm and composed. -Evidently she knew no fear. - -"Can you think of their reasons for coming?" I asked. - -"I think I can guess." Then turning to Adam she said: "You will, of -course, admit them?" - -"I must, my dear young lady," replied the old man, "I must. I should do -no good by refusing them, and I should arouse suspicion." - -"True." - -"Of course it will take some little time"; this he said meaningly. - -"Yes, yes. He will think you are in bed. And where will you put them?" - -"All right, my dear young lady," he replied mysteriously. "You need not -fear," he went on, "they shall never know that you are here." - -"No, I can trust you for that, Adam"; then her eyes rested on me. - -"Master Roger Trevanion is as safe as you are," he said quickly. - -"You are certain?" - -"Perfectly." - -"That will do. We will stay here until you come." - -The old man bowed and left us, and Mistress Nancy gazed steadily into -the fire for some time as though she were ignorant of my presence. - -"Master Roger Trevanion," she said presently, "I did not know you cared -so much for your country. In the past you have seemed indifferent as to -what king reigned, Catholic or Protestant." - -"Until I knew you I was practically indifferent," I replied humbly. "I -cared for little besides my own enjoyment. In a way, I was a loyal -Protestant, and would have fought for King George; but it would have -been for self-advancement chiefly, and--and because I loved a fight." - -"And now?" - -"You have made me ashamed of myself in more ways than one," I replied. - -"And you do not wish a Stuart to return to the throne?" - -"He would curse the country." - -Again she was silent for a few seconds, still gazing steadily into the -fire. - -"Would you play the spy?" she asked presently. - -"No," I replied roughly. Then I started, for I heard the clang of a bell -resounding through the empty house. - -"Not for the sake of King George?" - -"I would rather some one else did it," I replied. - -"But if no one else would do it, or could do it?" - -I was silent. - -"And if thereby you could possibly save your country from a great -calamity?" - -"I am not a mole," I replied. "I cannot burrow in the ground. I like to -fight in the open." - -At that moment we heard the sound of voices, among which I recognized -that of old Colman Killigrew. - -"We need not be alarmed," she said. "The Killigrews know nothing of this -room." Then she sat gazing into the fire again, while I fell to -wondering what was in her mind. - -"You said just now that you wanted to serve me?" she said presently. - -"Yes, yes," I whispered eagerly. - -"Would you play the spy in order to save me from calamity?" - -"Do not put it that way," I said bitterly; "but I would do anything that -a gentleman could do to serve you. You have made me love what is -honourable, you have made me hate that which is mean." - -"Would it be mean to discover the plottings of my enemies?" she asked -tremulously. - -"No, no," I answered eagerly. "Such a work would be worthy of any man. -Command me, Mistress Nancy. Tell me of the man who has plotted against -you, and I will go to him and tear his secret from him." - -"Wait!" was her answer. - -At this moment I heard a low rapping at the door. - -She wandered slowly around the room for some minutes speaking never a -word; then turning to me suddenly she said: - -"Follow me if you would serve me." - -She touched a spot on the door, and immediately it swung on its hinges. -I followed her into the passage, and up a long flight of stairs. - -"Whither are we going?" I asked presently. - -"To a secret place in the house," was her answer; "you will be safer -there." - -"But you told me I was safe yonder." - -"Will you not trust me?" she said. "You said you would serve me." - -I followed her without another word. Had she told me to go to my death, -I think I should have obeyed. - -Presently she opened the door of an apartment. - -"Enter there," she said; "do not make a sound of any sort. Wait in -perfect silence until I return." - -I entered. - -"You can trust me, can't you?" she whispered. - -"Yes, yes!" I answered. "I will obey you to the very letter." - -"Mind, make no sound. Do not move." - -"Very well. Are you not coming with me?" - -"No. Walk four paces into the apartment. Make no sound." - -I did as she commanded me; then I heard the door close and I was left in -perfect darkness. - -I waited minute after minute in silence, wondering what she meant by -such strange conduct. Under other circumstances I should have tried to -get a light, and have examined the room in which she had left me; but I -had given my promise, and I would abide by it. Besides, was I not doing -this to serve her? I called to mind the rapping I had heard while we had -been in the other room; that was doubtless a signal between her and -Adam. - -How long I stayed there I know not. I was like one stunned by a heavy -blow; my mind was bewildered--everything was as confused as a dream. -Sometimes I thought I _was_ dreaming. - -Presently I heard a sound of approaching footsteps. Several people -seemed to be coming straight to the spot where I sat. Had Mistress Nancy -been mistaken? That she had in any way betrayed me was not to be -considered. I saw no light, but I could hear footsteps and voices -plainly. A few seconds later, it seemed to me that people were so near -that I had need only to stretch out my hand in order to touch them. All -the same this could not have been. No one had entered the apartment, of -that I was sure. - -"Now then we can get to business." - -It was old Colman Killigrew who spoke, and his voice sounded strangely -near. He might be standing close to my ear. - -"We have need, and that quickly." - -I gave a start. The voice was Uncle Anthony's, and he spoke as one -having authority. Instinctively I stretched out my hands, but I touched -nothing. Why were these men's voices so plain? - -"How many swords can you command?" asked Otho Killigrew. - -"In twenty-four hours, a thousand," replied Uncle Anthony. - -"And Hugh Boscawen hath five thousand," was old Colman Killigrew's -rejoinder. - -"Yes, but where be they? Here, there, everywhere. He hath gone about -this work like a fool. No method--no order. Besides he is ignorant of -what we know. To-night is Wednesday. To-morrow night at this time -Charles lands at Veryan Bay. We must meet him with a thousand men. Then -must we go silently to Tregothnan, and make Boscawen prisoner. When the -true king lands, and Boscawen appeareth not, the very men who would have -fought against us will be for us. Besides, is not the man John Wesley a -papist? True, I have not seen him, but rumour hath it that his -followers long for the return of a Catholic king." - -"You depend too much on rumour, Father Anthony," said Otho moodily. - -"What say you?" - -"That I have ceased to trust you," replied Otho boldly. "I cannot forget -the part you have played in the flight of Nancy; or in your treatment of -Roger Trevanion. It is well to have that matter settled. We trusted you, -and you failed us; but for you Mistress Nancy would have been my wife -ere this." - -"And you would have regretted it to your dying day. Think you I am a -fool, Otho Killigrew?" - -"Why should I have regretted it?" asked Otho sullenly. - -"Time will show, my lad. He who weds a loveless wife must have -sufficient reasons for doing so." - -"And were not my reasons sufficient?" - -"They were built upon thistledown, Otho Killigrew." - -"Why did you not tell me this?" - -"Because you chose to act without me, or rather to act against me. Have -you not known me long enough to be sure I would do nothing without -purpose. Bah! you thought you were very wise. You got Trevanion -imprisoned, you tried to arouse suspicion concerning me, and then like a -fool you visited him at Launceston Castle." - -"But that has done no harm. He has escaped." - -"True; but before he did so, you proved his innocence to Hugh Boscawen, -and obtained a warrant for his liberty. Now we have no hold upon him. He -hath gone, whither I know not. His whereabouts is as great a mystery as -that of the maid Nancy herself." - -"Then you know not where she is?" - -"I know nothing. I have been busy doing other work, or I might have set -to work to discover. I know Trevanion took her to Peter Trevisa's." - -"To Peter Trevisa's! Why?" - -"Because--well, Peter Trevisa knows more of Nancy Molesworth, aye, and -of this very house and the lands surrounding it, than you do. Peter -Trevisa holds everything like that!" - -"Ah!" cried Otho Killigrew. - -"Enough of this," cried old Colman Killigrew, "all that can wait now. -More pressing matters come first." - -"I know it, Colman Killigrew," replied Uncle Anthony; "but this son of -thine thinks he is very wise in suspecting me and in seeking to thwart -my purposes. It is well to prove to him that he is a fool. He should -learn to obey before he seeks to command." - -"Well, and the other matter; is all ready?" - -"It is. That is why I have ordered you here to-night. We must make this -our centre. The house is isolated and practically uninhabited but for -the man who obeys you implicitly. Here we can speak freely. There is a -lonely road leading from the house to the sea; we can come and go -without suspicion at least for three days." - -"Why three days?" asked Otho. - -"I say three days, because I do not know what is in Peter Trevisa's -mind." - -"What of him? What hath he to do with it?" - -"I cannot tell yet; when Charles hath landed, and starts his march -through Cornwall and Devonshire, I, the old hermit, may have time to -think of other things." - -"You are right," replied old Colman. "And now there is work to do. The -men must be gathered." - -"They are being gathered," replied Uncle Anthony. - -"And armed." - -"That is being done. If our work is done silently through the next two -days all will be well. Our great danger is that Hugh Boscawen shall hear -of it. If he does, we are lost." - -"You speak strongly," said old Colman Killigrew; "you speak strongly, -Father Anthony." - -"Because I feel strongly. I tell you much depends, very much depends on -the next few days. Oh, I know! Have I not gone around to almost every -house in the county? Have I not worn a dozen disguises? Have I not -wormed my way into the confidence of the faltering, and given courage to -cowards? Here I have been a droll, a story-teller, there a priest -hearing confessions and commanding service. To many a man I have gone -who longed for the true faith and dared not confess it, and to each I -have brought hope and courage. Many and many a night have I sat in my -lonely hiding-places thinking, thinking of this time and preparing for -it. To-day, through my labours, and I make no boast, there be fifty -heads of houses in this county ready not only to do battle themselves, -but to lead their dependants, who but for me would have timidly cried, -'Long live King George II.' This I have done quietly, secretly. -Pronounced Protestants have scarcely suspected it, and Hugh Boscawen, -fool that he is, thinks the whole county is loyal to those German -usurpers." - -"I know you have worked hard, Father Anthony," replied old Colman -Killigrew. "Many and many is the hour that you and I have talked -concerning these matters at Endellion; through you we are a strong -chain, whereas without you we should have been loops of iron which have -no connection." - -"And no one knows of the coming of Charles Stuart?" asked Otho -Killigrew. - -"Not yet; it is not well. We must be silent; silent as death. Still if -we are wise there will be no need to fear. There be many thousands who -are true to our cause. Let Charles come, let the people see him at the -head of a few hundred men, and they will flock to his standard as sheep -flock together at the sound of the barking of the shepherd's dog. All -the same, this Hugh Boscawen, this Viscount Falmouth must not know, for, -fool though he may be, he hath much power." - -All this I heard, scarce thinking of what it meant. All was so sudden, -so mysterious. But when Uncle Anthony finished speaking, the purport of -it all flashed upon me like light. I saw, or fancied I saw, Mistress -Nancy's purpose in conducting me to this room. She wished me to know the -plans of these men; she knew, too, of the cunningly contrived -arrangements whereby the sound was conveyed from one room to the other. -All the same, I liked not the thought that she had made me an -eavesdropper, although, doubtless the two rooms had been constructed by -the Molesworths for some such purpose as this, and they were honourable -men. - -I dared make no sound, for by so doing I had put myself in extreme -danger, and I could not get out. So I sat there while they unfolded -their plans, the gist of which I have here written down. Truly my -bargain with Peter Trevisa had led me a pretty dance, and yet, but for -the motive thereof, I did not wish matters otherwise. - -Presently they prepared to depart, for the which I was truly glad, for -my limbs were becoming cramped. I dared not move, for I reflected that -sound would be conveyed to them as clearly as to me, and by and by, when -I heard their retreating footsteps, I started up with great relief and -stretched my long limbs with much comfort. - -After a long time, for so it seemed to me, I heard a scratching at the -door. - -"Come," said a voice which I had learned to know, although it spoke but -in a whisper. - -I hurried towards the door, and saw in the dim light the face of my -love. After that, and without speaking a word, I followed her into the -room where my meals had been brought. When the door was closed, I -looked into her eyes eagerly. - -"Well?" she said questioningly. - -"You led me there for a purpose," I said. - -I thought I saw laughter in her face. - -"Adam is a wise old man, and knows the house inch by inch; knows its -history, its secret places." - -"And he led them there with an object?" I persisted. - -"You refused to play the spy, Master Trevanion," she whispered with a -low laugh, "and yet----" and there she broke off without finishing the -sentence. - -"Mistress Nancy," I cried, "you are sure you are safe here?" - -"Have you not had proof?" - -"Then I must away!" - -"Away?" - -"Yes. I have heard strange things. I tell you I must leave the house -this very hour." - -"But why?" - -"Can you not guess?" Then I knew that although she had not heard a word, -she was aware of the subject of their conversation. Her face I thought -grew paler, and her hands trembled slightly. - -"They do not know where I am," I went on, "neither have they any clew to -your whereabouts. They do not guess you are here, but I must away. Can I -have a horse?" - -"No, no, it is impossible. There are many men about the house. They are -watching everywhere." - -"Then I must away on foot." - -"Is it urgent?" - -"Let me tell you all I heard," I cried; "for their every word came as -plainly to me as if I sat in their midst. The Pretender is to land at -Veryan Bay to-morrow midnight." - -"So soon?" - -"Ah," I cried, "that was the secret which Peter Trevisa wished you to -impart? You had heard that he intended landing in Cornwall?" - -She did not speak, but her silence told me of many things. - -"I go to Tregothnan," I cried. "I go this very hour. Adam Coad must let -me out. Surely he knows of the secret ways." - -She hesitated a second; then she said: "No, Adam must know nothing of -this. I will conduct you. But you are sure it is right to tell Lord -Falmouth." - -"It is more than right," I cried; "I shall perchance save the country -from civil war." - -She looked at me as if in great doubt. - -"But if the Catholic faith is the true one," she cried, "and if Charles -Stuart is the lawful heir to the throne--then----" and her lips trembled -piteously as if she were in sore straits. - -"I am no great hand at theology," I said; "but I know that Popery is -lies, oppression, cruelty, ruin! We have had enough of it in England. If -the Pretender lands and Hugh Boscawen is taken prisoner, it will mean -brother fighting against brother, perhaps father fighting against son. -The whole country will be in tears. We shall have the rack, the -thumbscrew, the faggot back again. As for the Stuarts, they have proved -themselves to be a race of scoundrels." - -I spoke warmly, for now that I was brought face to face with facts, I -saw everything in a new light. The earnestness of my race rose up within -me, and even then I felt ashamed of the useless life I had lived. - -"Are you such a Protestant, then?" she asked. - -"All my race have been for two hundred years," I cried; "and the reign -of a Stuart will mean a deathblow for all who try to uphold liberty and -truth." - -"But you will be in great danger." - -"I must go nevertheless. Guide me, Mistress Nancy, and that quickly." - -I pulled on my boots as I spoke, and buttoned my coat closely around me. - -"Yes, yes," she replied, eagerly. "But you will need arms. Wait; I will -fetch you sword and pistols." - -In a few seconds she had returned. "This is a sword which my father -wore," she said, her voice trembling. - -My heart leapt wildly. She could not scorn me, if with her own hands she -had brought her father's sword. - -"I will use it for no unworthy cause, Mistress Nancy," I cried. "I will -strike no blow for anything which your father would condemn." - -"Come, come," she said. "Adam showed me the way only a few days ago. -Come! But you will be careful?" - -Again my heart seemed to burn within me. It may seem but little to the -reader, indeed the matter was trivial, yet I rejoiced beyond measure to -think that she was anxious for my welfare. - -I accompanied her along an underground passage, then we climbed some -stone steps, and presently I stood by a low doorway. Taking a key from -her pocket she unlocked the door, which opened into a dark shrubbery. - -"You see that path?" she whispered. - -"Yes." - -"It leads to the woods. I can tell you no more. But be careful; there -are watchers all around, for the Killigrews are not yet gone. God be -with you!" - -"Good-bye, Mistress Nancy." - -"No, only good-morning." - -"And you will be careful, Mistress Nancy. Do not let them see you. If I -did not think you were safe I know not if I could go--even now. But when -I may, I will come back, I will serve you with my whole heart." - -"I am safe, go--but be careful. Good-morning. When you return come to -this door and give three knocks." - -I rushed up the path she had pointed out, and heard the door close -behind me as I went. I had not gone far, however, before I saw a dark -form moving among the trees. - -"Who goes there?" said a voice. - -I made no reply, but rushed on. - -"Stop or I fire." - -At this I made a sudden halt. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -OTHO KILLIGREW USES AN OLD PROVERB. - - -There was no help for it. I had to wait till the man came up. - -"All is well!" I said, in a low voice. - -"But who are you?--why----!" - -Before he could speak again or raise his musket. I struck him heavily. -He fell like a log of wood, senseless, inert. I lifted my hand to strike -again; but it is hard striking an unconscious man, and I refrained. -Besides I felt sure it would be some time before he would regain his -wits again, meanwhile I should be perhaps a mile on my way. - -I therefore left him lying there, while I sped through the woods like a -deer. Who he was I knew not, but I suspected that he was some follower -of the Killigrews, who watched while his masters discussed their plans -within the house. - -I had but a vague idea of the right direction, for the trees were dark -and high, and I was not much acquainted with this part of the country. -Nevertheless, being country-bred, and having often to travel by night, I -did not fear going far wrong. In half an hour I reached a lane, and then -I took my bearings. - -Listening, I heard the splash of the waves on the sea-coast near. This I -knew lay southwest, so I was able to choose my direction without -difficulty. Tregothnan lay a good many miles southward; I heeded not the -distances, however, my one purpose was to reach Hugh Boscawen's house -without mishap. Once out in the open country the night was not dark, and -I felt no weariness. My fear was that Otho Killigrew should overtake me. -I was sure that the man I had struck down would relate his adventure, -and that Otho Killigrew, in spite of what Uncle Anthony had said, was as -clever as the devil himself. Moreover, as I rushed on, I could not help -believing that the man had recognized me. Possibly he had come from -Endellion, and had seen me there. This lent wings to my feet, for should -Otho and his satellites follow me on horseback, I should be in a sore -predicament. Presently my fear became a terror. If the man had -recognized me, and had revealed the fact to the Killigrews and Uncle -Anthony, would they not connect my presence with Mistress Nancy? For a -moment my heart ceased to beat, but presently comfort came. My love, in -spite of her youth, was no simpering, helpless chit of a maid. She would -know how to hold her own; with old Adam as her friend she could outwit -all the Killigrews. Then another thought came to me which assured me -much. I was confident that Uncle Anthony was the maid's friend. I called -to mind a dozen things which had happened during the time I was with him -on Roche Rock. I remembered the way he spoke when he was left wounded -and helpless in the old chapel in the parish of St. Mawgan. Their -purposes might be one with regard to the Catholic faith and the coming -of Charles Stuart, but I felt sure that the mysterious old man loved -Mistress Nancy, and that he loved not Otho Killigrew. - -This made me feel kindly towards him, and although I had it from his own -lips that he had been spending his life in preparation for the coming of -the Pretender, I thought of many plans whereby I might be able to help -him, if I reached Hugh Boscawen. - -While these thoughts passed through my mind, I rushed on with unabated -speed. The morning had only just begun to dawn, and no one had molested -me. I therefore began to have hopes that I should fulfil my mission -without mishap. Just as I caught the first glimpse of the rising sun, -however, they were rudely dispelled. - -I had at this moment just reached the brow of a hill, and saw the -entrance gates to one of the roads which led to Hugh Boscawen's house. -They were not much more than a mile distant, and I fancied that, once -inside them, my dangers would be over. By this time, as may be imagined, -I was sore spent, for I had run a great part of the way. I therefore -contented myself with walking down the hill towards the gates, but had -not gone far when I heard the sound of galloping horses. Turning, I saw -two men riding towards me. They were Otho Killigrew and another man. - -I started to run, holding my sheathed sword in my left hand, but I saw -that such a course would be useless. They were evidently well mounted, -and I was spent and weary. Each side of me great hedges towered up, -covered with hazel bushes. If I tried to escape into the fields by -climbing over one of them, they would shoot me like a dog. - -"Stop!" cried Otho. - -For answer I cocked one of the pistols Mistress Nancy had given me. At -least I would fight to the very last. Otho saw my action, and a second -later two pistol-bullets whizzed by me, one tearing the sleeve of my -coat. Evidently both of them had fired. Perhaps the movements of the -horses had caused them to miss their aim. My hands trembled because of -my long journey, otherwise I was fairly calm. I fired at Otho. Seeing my -action, he spurred his horse furiously, and my bullet just escaped -him--instead it struck the horse of the man who accompanied him. This -made the animal rear and plunge mightily, and a second later the fellow -lay sprawling on the ground. The horse, however, after some capering, -galloped madly away. - -"Come," I thought, "this is good work," and lifting my other pistol I -shot at Otho's steed, rather than at its rider. I thought the bullet -struck the animal, but Otho was a better horseman than his companion. He -kept his seat firmly. - -I had now no weapon save my sword, for there was no time to re-load, so -I started running again, taking as many turns as a hare in the road, so -as to give Otho as little chance as possible to take aim. Another bullet -whizzed by, and still I was unharmed. I wondered how much ammunition he -had, and in spite of my danger I hoped that I should come well out of -the business. For if it became a question of swords, I had no fear. -Otho was no swordsman, while his companion, as far as I could judge, was -only a common serving-man, who would have but little knowledge of -fencing. - -I heard another pistol shot, and at that very moment I felt something -strike my side and burn me, as though a red-hot knife had been placed on -my flesh. - -In spite of my struggles to stand upright, I stumbled and fell. In -falling I struck my head against a stone which stunned me somewhat. - -"Ah!" I heard Otho say, "that is well. Come, Juliff, we shall soon -settle this business." - -In spite of my fall I kept my eyes open, and saw Otho dismount. He -seemed in great good humour, for he laughed aloud, while his companion -limped slowly after him. He drew his sword as he came near me, and never -did I see such a look of devilish gloating as rested on his face at that -moment. The man seemed utterly changed. He was no longer the -slow-speaking, almost religious-looking man I had known. His eyes burned -red, and he laughed in such a way that for the moment I forgot the -burning pain at my side. - -"It is my turn now, Roger Trevanion," he said, and his voice fairly -trembled with passion. "And he who laughs last laughs best. You have -beaten me many times. Oh yes, I'll give you your due. You've beaten me -many times. You are a man with brains, that I will admit, but so is Otho -Killigrew. You got away from Endellion and took Nancy with you, that's -once; you mastered me at the inn up by St. Mawgan, that's twice; you -got away from Launceston Castle after you knew I should gain your -freedom, and that's three times. And now my turn hath come!" - -These last words came slowly, and seemed to pass through his set teeth; -this I noticed, although I was still somewhat dazed by my fall. - -"You are in my power, Master Roger Trevanion," and he held his sword -close to me, "and now before I make you swallow six inches of steel, I -will tell you something else: Mistress Nancy Molesworth is in my power -too. And this I will add: Otho Killigrew's intentions are no longer -honourable, for reasons that you can guess as well as I." - -There was such a fiendish tone in his voice, and his words gave me such -a shock, that my strength came back to me as if by a miracle. Before he -could hinder me I had at one bound leapt to my feet and drawn my sword. -The pistol shot no longer hurt me one whit; my right arm felt no -weakness. - -"They do laugh best who laugh last," I cried; whereupon I attacked him -violently, and as he was no swordsman he fell back from me. - -"Juliff, Juliff," he cried, but Juliff was so crippled by his fall that -he was no longer able to help his master. Then a strange light came into -his eyes, and his guard became weaker and weaker, until I wondered what -it meant, for all the Killigrews were fighters in one way or another. - -I do not say that Otho Killigrew was not a brave man. In the ordinary -meaning of the word, he knew no fear, and could meet death as bravely -as another. But directly he knew that my wound was not mortal, and that -I had retained my mastery of the sword, he became a schemer and a -plotter again. In short, the Otho Killigrew who thought I was powerless -and the Otho Killigrew whose sword clashed against mine were two -different men. Keeping one eye on me, he gave a glance at Juliff who had -dragged himself to the hedge side. Evidently the man had broken some -limb in his fall from the horse, for one arm hung limp, and he groaned -loudly. - -For my own part I had no mercy in my heart, and I had made up my mind to -kill him. That I was able to do this I had no manner of doubt. As I have -said he was no swordsman, and although my side ached sorely, the sinews -of my right arm seemed like steel bands. But for those words he had -spoken about Nancy, I should have contented myself with disabling him by -a flesh wound, but remembering what he had said, I felt I could be -satisfied with nothing less than his death. I think he saw this as he -looked into my eyes; for his face became pale and ashen; and he gasped -like a man whose throat is nearly choked. - -"He who laughs last laughs best," I repeated grimly, and then he was -certain that he would get no mercy from me. - -He was not like his brother Benet. That giant would never dream of -yielding, his one thought would be to fight to the very last--but Otho, -as I said, had again become cool and calculating. Doubtless he -remembered how much depended on him, and thought how the cause he loved -needed him. Anyhow he took to his heels, and ran rapidly in the -direction of Restormel. - -"Coward!" I shouted, as he left me standing in the road. "Coward! Otho -Killigrew," I repeated again, as soon as I had gained my breath, but he -took no heed of my taunt, and indeed I was sorry afterward that I -uttered it. - -I was master of the situation, however, and taking no thought of Juliff -who lay groaning by the hedge side, I caught Otho Killigrew's horse, -which had not been hurt by my pistol-shot, and jumped into the saddle. -My side pained me sorely as I did this, and now that my danger was over -I felt somewhat faint and dizzy. Indeed, I doubt much if I should have -been able to have walked to Tregothnan, for the house was several miles -beyond the lodge gates. - -No difficulty presented itself with the gate-keeper. He had just risen -as I came up, and when I told him that I had important business with his -lord, he made no ado in allowing me to enter. When I neared Tregothnan -my heart beat fast, for I remembered the circumstances under which I was -last there. The old man at the door gave a start, too, as he saw me, and -I felt sure I was recognized; but seeing the eager look on my face, he -bade me enter, and told me he would inform his lordship of my presence. - -Evidently Hugh Boscawen was an early riser, for in a few seconds he -entered the room where I stood. - -"I have heard strange news concerning you, Master Roger Trevanion," he -said as he entered. - -"But not so strange as I have to tell you, my lord," was my reply. - -He gave a start at my words. "What ails you, man?" he asked, "you are -wounded, your clothes are bloody." - -"Of that presently, my lord," I said hastily. "Know you that the -Pretender lands at Veryan Bay to-night, and that the lovers of the -Stuarts have a thousand men armed to receive him?" - -He started back like a man who had received a prick with a sword. "What -mean you?" he cried. - -I repeated my words, and gave him further particulars. - -"You are sure of this?" - -I assured him that I was. - -"I would that Sir John Grenville were here," he said to himself, "this -is sore sudden." - -"There is need of immediate action, my lord," was my reply, "and the -country looks up to you." - -My words seemed to arouse his mind to activity. - -"Ah," he cried, "now they will know that I was right. Men laughed at me -for saying the Pretender would ever think of landing in Cornwall, and -jeered at me for gathering together our brave Cornishmen. But how came -you to know this, Trevanion?" - -He seemed to have forgotten that I had lately been brought before him as -a traitor, forgot that Otho Killigrew had been my accuser. - -"I will tell you all I can, my lord," I replied. "I escaped from the -Witch's Tower, at Launceston Castle. I knew I was innocent, and I felt -that there were those outside who needed me." - -"Yes, Killigrew came to me. He proved your innocence. I signed a -warrant for your liberty. But you escaped--that I know. But it is no -matter; go on." - -"I was led to Restormel." - -"What, the old Castle up by Lostwithiel?" - -"No, to the seat of the late Master Molesworth." - -"Ah, yes, I remember. Well?" - -"Colman Killigrew of Endellion is the guardian of Master Molesworth's -daughter; hence he is practically master there." - -"Yes, I have heard as much." - -"While I was in the house, Colman Killigrew and his son Otho, with -others, came. It is regarded as a good centre for dealing with the -Pretender's cause. I overheard their conversation." - -"Which you have told me?" - -"Partly. What I did not tell you is that they fear you greatly. They -know you have gathered an army from various parts of the country. Their -idea is, that after the Pretender lands to-night they will come here and -take you prisoner. They believe that, when this is done, the very men -you have armed to fight for the king will fight for Charles." - -"Ah!" he cried; "but King George will know of my wisdom now! And you, -Trevanion, you escaped, and came here to tell me. Hath no one any -suspicions?" - -"They have more than suspicions, my lord. On leaving Restormel a few -hours ago, a man stopped me. I silenced him for the time, but he must -have given information; anyhow, I was followed. Doubtless messengers -were sent out to scour the country-side, but two only overtook me." - -"Two?" - -"Aye, Otho Killigrew and a serving-man. They were on horseback and I on -foot." - -"Were you armed?" - -"I had a couple of pistols and a sword." Then I told him of all that had -happened. - -"Then you have a bullet in your body?" - -"I think not, but I have a slight wound. I think I should like a -doctor," and, indeed, at that minute my head seemed to whirl most -amazingly, and there was a noise in my ears like the sound of many -waters. - -After that I remember little that took place, at least for a long time; -but presently when hours later my senses came back to me, I felt vastly -better. - -"It was lucky we had a doctor staying in the house," said Hugh Boscawen. -"Trevanion, you will have to lie quiet for many days." - -"No, my lord," I replied, "that is impossible. I must away. There is -much to be done." - -"I must ask your forgiveness, Trevanion," said Hugh Boscawen, mistaking -my meaning. "I trusted in Killigrew, such is the power of a smooth -tongue. I see now that the King hath none more faithful than you. But -you have done your part; in fact, methinks you have saved the country. -Now you can rest. I have made all arrangements, and my trusty henchmen -are scouring the country. When Charles arrives at Veryan to-night we -will give him a warm welcome. In a week from now he will be in safe -custody. Heard you whether the French will be sending troops with him?" - -"I judge not. I gathered that he would come practically alone." - -"That is well. Now you may safely rest." - -"No, my lord, I cannot"; and thereupon I told him in a few words of my -relations with Mistress Nancy Molesworth. Of my love I said not a word, -but beyond that I told him everything. - -"This shall be looked into when this affair is blown over, Trevanion," -he said. "Such a maid as she should not be robbed of her rights through -some foolish flaw in our laws. But what would you?" - -"I must find out what hath become of her, my lord," I said, for I -remembered Otho Killigrew; "moreover, there is a matter which may have -escaped your attention." - -"What matter?" - -"The friends of the Pretender will now know that I have informed you of -their plans, and I am sure that Otho Killigrew would not have run away -as he did had not some cunning plan entered his fertile brain. Believing -that you are aware of what will happen, they will act accordingly." - -"But they did not know that you heard their conversation?" - -"Perhaps not; but they will suspect, and be prepared." - -"Well, what then?" - -"I think, my lord," I said, "that they will doubtless have signals -whereby they will be able to communicate with the Pretender. If he is to -cease being a danger to the country, he must be allowed to land, and -then taken prisoner." - -"I see; you have a good brain, Trevanion. But that shall be attended to. -I will give orders at once." - -"Still I cannot rest here, my lord. I must be up and doing. And I feel -quite strong. I can go to Restormel; I must go!" - -He saw I was determined. - -"You shall hear what the doctor saith," was his answer. "Ah! but it was -rare good luck that the fellow was staying here." - -A minute later the doctor came into the room. He had come from Truro to -bleed one of the serving-maids, and had been obliged to stay all night. - -"Master Trevanion had better lie still for a week," was his reply to -Hugh Boscawen's query. "True, the wound is not deep, and I have bandaged -it well, but severe movement will cause it to start bleeding, and then -there may be trouble." - -"But it will not be dangerous for me to move?" I said. "I feel quite -strong." - -"I do not use the word dangerous," replied the surgeon, "and you feel -strong because by giving you a most potent medicine of my own invention -you have had several hours of refreshing sleep. Moreover, my remedy hath -had the effect of keeping your blood cool and of energizing your vital -powers. It is really a most remarkable cordial, and did I live in -London, I should soon become the most famous of living physicians." - -"Then if the cordial be so potent," was my reply, "and if the wound is -not deep, it will surely be safe for me to travel. For, in truth, it -will do me more harm to be imprisoned here than to do what I feel must -be done. Had you been an ordinary doctor, and knew not of this cordial, -it might have been dangerous, but surely not after I have been under -your treatment." - -After a long harangue I managed by flattering the doctor's vanity to get -away; all the same it was not far from dark when I, with many doubts and -many misgivings, rode in the direction of Restormel. - -I had barely reached the lodge gates when I saw two men riding towards -the house from which I had just come. One was dressed as a squire of the -old school, and the other as an ordinary serving-man. I looked steadily -into his face as I passed, and, although it was in many respects -strange, I thought I recognized it. When he was out of sight, I asked -the gate-keeper if he knew who it was. - -"He gave his name as Master John Polperro," was the reply. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -HOW JANUARY CHANGED TO JUNE. - - -Now I had never seen the elder John Polperro, but I remembered his son, -and as I rode along I thought how unlike the two men were. So unlike -were they, indeed, that no one on seeing them together would suspect -them to be related. I paid but little attention to this, however, but -rather set to wondering why he was going to see Hugh Boscawen. Had news -of any sort reached him? Knew he aught of the plots afoot? After this I -felt certain I had seen the man somewhere. Some of the features I could -not recall; but the eyes and the protruding brows above them were not -ordinary. The possessor of those keen gray penetrating orbs was not of -the common type of humanity. - -"Where have I seen those eyes before?" I thought; and then my side -burned and ached fearfully, just as I had felt it immediately after Otho -Killigrew had shot at me. My blood also coursed madly through my veins, -and I became much excited. - -"Uncle Anthony!" I said aloud, and I was sure I was not mistaken. - -Presently I cooled down again, and I was able to think calmly. Here then -were the facts. He was visiting Hugh Boscawen under the guise of the -elder John Polperro. He had, doubtless, become acquainted with the -success of Otho's search after me, and had gone to Tregothnan to confer -with the master thereof concerning the coming of the Pretender. -Moreover, I was sure that he would not go there unless some subtle plan -had formed itself in his cunning old brain. I knew that Hugh Boscawen -was no match for him, and that unless he were checkmated the King's -cause would perchance be ruined. - -This being so what ought I to do? My first impulse was to ride back to -Tregothnan and inform Hugh Boscawen of my conviction; but I refrained. I -remembered the kind of man with whom I had to deal. Uncle Anthony would -know of my coming, and would naturally guess that I had penetrated his -disguise. This would allow him time to resort to other means in order to -carry out his purposes. After this I thought of writing a note to -Boscawen, telling him to arrest Uncle Anthony; but this I could not do. -I remembered the old man's kindness to Nancy, I thought of the evident -love he had for her. No, no--I could not do this, even although I knew -him to be the most dangerous plotter in the country. And yet I dared not -allow him to have his way with the man who was championing the cause of -the reigning king. After much thinking, therefore, I wrote a note in the -gatekeeper's lodge and commissioned the man to take it to his master. -This is what I wrote: - - - "_Act as though your visitor of this morning, who gives his name at - your lodge as John Polperro, had not called. I have powerful - reasons for this. At the same time listen to him as though you - desired to fall in with his plans. His information is not - trustworthy, of this I am sure._ - - "ROGER TREVANION." - - -This note I reflected would frustrate Uncle Anthony's designs, but would -not lead Boscawen to arrest the old man or do him any injury. So I -mounted my horse again and rode northward. I had no definitely formed -plans of my own, except that, despite the danger, I would go to -Restormel and seek to find Mistress Nancy. I could not help believing -that Otho Killigrew, notwithstanding the critical work he had to do, -would still find time to hunt down my love and work her harm. That he -knew of her being at Restormel was manifested by what he had said to me, -and I was sore afraid. Moreover, I had promised Hugh Boscawen that I -would meet his men in the woods, near the only spot a boat could well -land, at Veryan Bay. He had, he told me, arranged with his henchmen that -they should gather as many as possible of those who had taken up arms -for King George at this place, and that they should come as far as -possible, stealthily and after dark. His hope was that, though the -information I had given him came very late, at least two thousand men -would be lying among the woods at eleven o'clock that night. - -As I have said, the danger was doubtless great in going to Restormel. If -the Killigrews could get hold of me I should fare badly. And yet this -very danger might make my entrance possible. They would never think I -should venture there that night, and thus they might be unprepared for -me. Moreover, I hoped that they would all be away at Veryan Bay, -regarding the welfare of a hapless maid as unworthy of their notice. - -Anyhow, I made my way towards Restormel, and having fastened the horse I -had taken from Otho to a tree some distance from the house, I crept -silently towards it. No light shone from the windows, no sound reached -my ears. Seemingly the place was deserted. - -I strained both ears and eyes without avail; it would seem as though no -form of life existed behind the dark walls of the house. Did not this -mean that Otho was still ignorant of the whereabouts of Nancy? Might she -not be still safe and well in that part of the house, the secrets of -which were unknown to the Killigrews. I had reason to know how -self-reliant and far-seeing she was, and I knew how faithful and shrewd -was Amelia Lanteglos her serving-maid. My heart beat loud with joy at -the thought. - -Creeping nearer and nearer the road, I determined to try and find the -door from which I had come early that morning. It was hidden by -evergreens and difficult to find, but I fancied that if I went there and -knocked, either she or old Adam Coad would come to me. In any case, I -hoped I should hear news concerning her, for, as may be imagined, my -heart was torn with many fears, especially when I remembered what Otho -had said. - -Presently I stopped, for I heard approaching footsteps; they came not -from the house, but from the lodge gates. I listened intently, and -before long heard the murmur of men's voices. - -"You join us not then?" It was Otho Killigrew who spoke. - -"No, I am no fighter. I do not see what I should gain now that the -affair has gone so far; besides it matters not to me who is king." - -I detected young Peter Trevisa's voice, and instantly my mind was on the -alert. What had these two worthies been planning? I remembered that -Treviscoe was but a few miles from Restormel. Had Otho been visiting the -Trevisas? If so, Nancy had been the subject of their discussion. - -"But the other matter is settled?" - -"Yes." - -"Then good-night. I have much to do ere midnight. But I can trust you? -And you can trust your men?" - -"To be sure. They will do aught that I tell them." - -"Mind, if you betray me or fail me----" this was spoken in a threatening -voice. - -"I will see that my part is done, if you do yours." - -"And I will." - -The men separated. Their words conveyed but little meaning to me. That -together they had concocted some plan concerning Nancy I was sure. - -I saw Otho stand still, as if thinking deeply, after young Peter Trevisa -had gone; then he made his way towards the shrubbery through which I -had come early that morning. Silently I followed. I ill liked the part I -was playing, but I thought of my love, and determined that I would do -all a man could. For my love grew stronger each hour, even although I -had no hope that she I loved cared aught for me. How my heart hungered -for some token of a possible affection for me no words of mine can -write. Again and again I tried to comfort myself with the thought that -did she not care for me more than ordinary she would never have braved -the dangers of helping me to escape from Launceston Castle, that she -would not have been so anxious for my welfare. But I remembered again -how she had told me that what she had done for me she would have done -for any one who rendered a service. Nevertheless, I knew that if she -could never care for me, I had still given my life to her, and that -until my limbs lay cold in death I must seek to serve her. For when a -man who is past thirty really loves for the first time, it is love -forever. True, I loved my country, and I had espoused the cause of -liberty and truth, because I could not help it, but Nancy's welfare was -more to me than these. - -Thus I could not help following Otho Killigrew, and although my wound -pained me, I knew that strength would not fail. - -Presently Otho walked down the very path along which I had come, and -made his way towards the door which Nancy had thought secret. Evidently -he knew the road well, for he hesitated not. Having reached the door, he -knocked three times, just as Mistress Nancy had told me to knock. What -did this mean? How did any one know of this? - -I did not spend much time in surmising concerning the matter, for I knew -that Otho would have many ways of finding out things unknown to most -men. - -The door opened as if by magic. I heard no footsteps nor noise of any -sort. Evidently the sound of his knock must have reached some one who -knew the secret of the opening thereof. - -Without hesitating a second he entered, and immediately the door closed -behind him, leaving me outside. At this moment I knew not what to do. I -dared not make a sound, for I knew not who might be near. Perhaps a -dozen men might be lurking near the house, and if I made a noise they -would shoot me down like a rabbit or take me prisoner. And yet I longed -to know whither Otho went. I wanted to understand his purpose in -entering. I reflected that Nancy must be within. If the Killigrews had -not discovered that this was her hiding-place, she would naturally -remain there as she had said, and if they had found her out, no place -could have served their purpose better. Had she opened the door quickly, -thinking it was I who had knocked? Had she been expecting to hear my -footsteps? The thought filled me with joy even in spite of my anxiety; -and yet I stood among the shrubs powerless and alone. - -Presently I heard the sound of voices. I could detect no words, but I -knew people talked near me. Their voices became louder and louder, and -by and by a cry like that of a woman in pain reached me. This came from -within the house, and once I was sure I detected Otho's voice, not soft -and gentle-spoken as was generally the case, but harsh and strident. - -How I restrained myself I do not know. Indeed I feel sure I should have -attempted to break down the door had I not seen it open, seemingly -without hands, as it had opened before. A minute later Otho appeared -again. He did not look around, but hurried along the crooked path -between the shrubs. Now and then I heard him laugh in his low guttural -way, as though he had won a victory. He passed close beside me, so close -that I could easily have stabbed him to death before he had time to -defend himself. Why I did not, I do not know. Since then I have wished -that I had. But I have always loathed striking an unprepared man. So I -let him go, and shortly after I heard the sound of a horse galloping -northward. - -When these sounds died away, I made my way to the door, and knocked -three times, even as Otho had knocked. But without effect. Although I -listened intently no sound of any sort reached me. The noise I made -echoed and re-echoed through the house, but no notice was taken. Again I -gave the signal agreed upon by Mistress Nancy and myself; but the house -might be empty for all the answer I got. - -Now this troubled me sorely, for I was afraid lest my love should have -suffered some ill at the hands of Otho, and the closed door made it -impossible for me to render any help even if it were necessary. But I -would not be baulked. Rather than go away in suspense I would break down -the door, even though I brought the whole race of the Killigrews to the -spot. - -I therefore struck the door loudly, and although I thought I detected -some sounds of movement within, I still remained outside. So I put my -shoulder against the iron-studded barrier and pressed hardly, and -although it yielded somewhat the bolts held firmly. My action, however, -must have told those within that I was determined to enter, for at this -time I heard footsteps coming towards me. - -"No, you ca'ant come in," said a voice from within. - -"Amelia--Amelia Lanteglos," I said aloud. - -"Wait a minnit, Maaster Roger Trevanion," was the reply, spoken as I -thought excitedly, almost feverishly. Then a bolt drew back and the door -opened. - -"Forgive me," said Amelia Lanteglos, "but I thought it was--somebody -else. Where did 'ee come from, sur?" - -"I can't tell you now, Amelia," I said; "is your Mistress safe?" - -"Saafe. Iss, sure; but she've bin purtly frightened." - -"Yes." - -"Maaster Otho mimicked the knock. Three times ya knaw, and I opened the -door. She ded think t'was he knockin' again." - -"That is why I was refused admittance?" - -"Iss, sur, that's ev et." - -"Can you take me to your mistress now?" - -"Iss, sur; come this way." - -I followed the maid along dark corridors in perfect silence, she -muttering and laughing in a strange way; I feverishly excited, my side -paining me sorely, yet feeling no weakness. - -Presently she stopped, and then knocked timidly at the door of an -apartment. - -The only response that I heard was a piteous cry and a sob. - -Amelia knocked again. - -"I do not wish to be seen. I will not open the door. You can force your -way in if you dare, but you do not come here again with my consent." - -And now there was nothing plaintive in the tones of her voice, it was -rather angry--defiant. - -"I'll maake sa bould as to oppen the door," whispered Amelia; "she do -think tes Maaster Otho," and without further ado she suited the action -to the word, I entered the apartment, and Amelia left us together. - -A lamp stood on the table, which was in the centre of the room, so that -I could see my love plainly. She stood as far away from the door as -possible, and her back was turned upon me. I caught sight of one of her -hands, and saw that the fist was constantly clenching and unclenching -itself. Evidently the poor maid was sore distraught, and the sight of -her sorrow rendered me dumb. - -"Do you think, Otho Killigrew," she said slowly, still keeping her back -towards me, "that you can change my mind? You say I am in your power, -and that I have no friend to help me; well, if you had a spark of -manhood in you, you would cease to molest me, for you would know that -your very presence is loathsome. Now go, and leave me to find what peace -I can." - -Her words filled my heart with joy and sorrow at the same time. Joy, -because it was not I who was loathsome to her; sorrow, because she stood -there helpless and alone, and because I felt myself unable to help her. -And thus all I could think upon to say, and that in a very husky voice, -was: - -"Mistress Nancy." - -She turned herself round quickly, and I saw her eyes gleam with the -fires of hatred and anger. Her face was pale and hard, her whole body -was rigid; but as her eyes caught mine, a change came over her as quick -as a flash of light. In a second her eyes became soft and humid, her -hands became unclenched, her form lost its rigidity, and a rosy flush -mantled her face. It was as though a cold cruel night in January had -changed to a smiling June morning. - -Her lips parted to speak, but she only uttered one word, but that word -opened the gates of Heaven to me. - -"Roger!" - -It was a cry of surprise, of infinite relief, of untold joy. - -I opened my arms. I could not help doing so, and I am sure she saw that -my eyes burned with the fires of love. I took two steps towards her, my -arms still extended. - -"Nancy," I said. - -Then she came towards me and fell upon my shoulder. - -"He told me you were in the power of the Killigrews," she sobbed, "and -that to-night you would die." - -I held her to my heart a moment, knowing nothing, understanding nothing, -save that I was in Heaven. I had never hoped for this. Did such a mad -fancy enter my mind, I had dispelled it as something as impossible as -Heaven might be to a lost soul. Oh! but I never knew the meaning of life -or joy until that moment. She my dear, dear maid, lay with her head -pillowed on my shoulder, while her shining hair mingled with my own -unkempt locks. - -"And did you care?" I said like one in a dream, for truly my joy made me -unable to say the words that were wise. - -At this she started back, like one ashamed. I saw the tears trickling -down her cheeks, and a look which I could not comprehend come into her -eyes. - -"Oh, it is you, Master Roger Trevanion!" she cried. "Forgive me, I--I -did not know. I think I--I am overwrought. You will pay no heed to the -foolish words and action of--of one--who--who knew not what she was -doing." - -But I was eager, fearless, determined now. Knowing my own unworthiness -as I did, I could not forget the look in her eyes as she uttered my -name. - -"Nay, Nancy, my love, turn not away!" I cried. - -"But--but--I must--I--I did not know. Oh! what must you think of me?" -she sobbed like one ashamed. - -"I think you are the best and purest maid God ever sent on earth," I -answered. "I--I--O my love, come to me again!" - -But she stood still, her hands trembling and her bosom heaving. - -"You--you must forget my foolishness, forget it forever," she said -wildly. "I was so afraid, I did not know what I was doing!" - -"No, I shall never forget it," I replied, "never, never! A man cannot -forget Heaven, even though he may have felt it only while he draws one -breath. O my dear, dear maid; come to me again. I love you better than -name, home, liberty, life. I have never dared to tell you before. I am -so unworthy, but I love you, love you!" - -"But, but----" she cried piteously. - -"No, no," I said, "let there be no buts. I cannot bear that you should -turn away from me now. I have loved you for many weary, weary -days--hopelessly, hopelessly. I dared not tell you till now--but do not -repulse me." - -"And do you want me--really want me? That is, you--you do not despise me -because----" - -"Mistress Nancy--Nancy, my dear one," I said, growing bolder each -moment, although I wot not what to say, for truly my love made me as -foolish as a child, "all my life is bound up in you; I care for naught -but you, and I mind nothing now you are near me. Even my wound hurts me -not one whit now." - -"Your wound?" she cried. "What wound?" - -"Oh, it is nothing," I answered, vexed with myself for being such a fool -as to mention it; "my side was only grazed by the pistol-shot." - -"What pistol-shot? When? Where?" - -"It was only a scratch--this morning--when--when Otho fired at me this -morning." - -"Then you are hurt, you are wounded?" - -"No, not now. O my love, will you not come to me?" - -Then she rushed to me. "But, but you are not--that is, you are not----" - -She did not finish the sentence, for she lay sobbing on my shoulder -again, just as a babe might sob on its mother's breast. - -"And do you care?" I said again. "Oh, will you not speak to me once -more? Will you not tell me what--what I long to hear?" - -"You are safe--that is, you are sure you are not hurt--that is very -badly?" - -"No, no; I mind nothing. I am quite well. I shall be happier than words -can tell if you--you will only tell me you love me." - -"I--I am afraid I told you too soon," and this she said with a laugh -that had a sob in it, but the sob contained no sorrow, and still I was -not satisfied. - -"But my love, tell me," I cried, "tell me really, for I shall never be -content until I hear the words from your own lips." - -"Oh, I cannot, I am so ashamed," she sobbed. "I did not mean you should -know until you--had first told me--that is,--O Roger, I am so happy!" - -And after that I could doubt no longer, for she lay in my arms -contentedly and as if she knew no fear, and then I cared for nothing. -The dangers which surrounded me I minded no more than the old knight in -armour might mind the threats of children, for although I was homeless -and nearly friendless, my heart throbbed with a joy which until then I -never believed possible. - -"Roger," she said again presently, "I am so ashamed, but I could not -help it, and--and I _am_ happy; but--but--tell me again what you told me -just now." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -I FALL INTO OTHO KILLIGREW'S HANDS. - - -How long we remained oblivious to everything save our new-found love I -know not, for truly I had entered upon a new life. My dear love had -revealed herself to me in a way which made the dark night seem like day. -I had known her as one fair beyond words, it is true, and more faithful -and courageous than I had believed a woman could be, but distant and -often cold and repellant. Even when she had braved many things for my -welfare she treated me with distant formality, such as had chilled my -heart and made me despair of ever winning her love. But this night she -had shown me her heart, and now I knew her not only as noble and pure, -but as tender and winsome and loving. Many and many a time did she raise -her dear face to mine and bid me tell her again and again that my wound -was not dangerous and that I suffered no pain. And because I loved her -so, I am afraid I told her what was not true, for the wound ached -sorely, although I minded it not one whit. In very truth, one look from -her eyes dispelled the thought of pain, and I felt the strength of many -men surge within me. To say that I was content would be to play with -words, for sitting there with my love nought but joy filled my life. - -Presently, however, she bade me tell her of my experiences, and this I -did briefly, for I wanted to know what had happened to her, and why Otho -Killigrew had visited her and what he had said to her. Besides, it had -come to me that I must take her away from Restormel, although for the -moment I knew not where. In my happiness, too, I had almost forgotten -the promise I had made to Hugh Boscawen, and that it was my duty to make -my way to Veryan Bay that night. - -"What did Otho tell you, my love?" I asked. - -"That you have been taken prisoner by his people, and that you were to -be put to death to-night, unless----" - -"But that was nothing," I answered. "What was his purpose in coming to -you?" - -"He had discovered, I know not how, that you were here last night. He -had also found out the signal by which I was to admit you." - -"How?" - -"I know not. He had also divined--oh, Roger! I must be very foolish, -but he had divined that--that----" - -"What, my dear maid?" - -"That I love you," and she hid her face on my shoulder again, as though -she were ashamed to show her face. - -"How think you so?" - -"He told me so, and--and I could not deny it." - -"No," said I with a glad laugh, "and then?" - -"He tried to trade upon my love. He said you were in his power, and that -unless I promised him something you should die this very night." - -"What was that?" - -"To marry him." - -"And you?" - -"I was sorely frightened; but I told him that I would rather die than do -this. I could not, you know, Roger, even though I did not know you cared -aught for me." - -"But you must have known I loved you, my dear." - -"Sometimes I thought I did, and at others I could only--that is--even -were I sure you did, I knew you would rather die than that I should wed -him." - -"Well, let us hear the rest of this," I said. "Surely Otho must have -been attending the performances of some travelling showman, for such -plots smack of a fourth-rate playhouse." - -"He sorely frightened me, for he threatened to torture you; and you know -what a cruel face he has." - -"Well, and what was the end of it?" By this time my heart began to grow -bitter towards Otho Killigrew, and had he been there at that moment it -would have gone hard with him. - -"He told me that you had been taken to a place of safety, and then asked -me if I would allow him to take me there. He said it was the only -condition on which he would show you any mercy." - -"And you?" - -"I refused him again. And yet I fancy my looks must have consented, for, -Roger," and she nestled closer to me again, "I hoped that I might be -able to help you." - -Now this matter required thought, for I felt sure Otho had some -deep-laid purpose in it all. - -"He said he would return as soon as his duties allowed him," she added -presently. - -"Here?" - -"Yes." - -"You will refuse to admit him?" - -"Oh, there will be no need now--you will be here;--that's--no--no--you -must not. He seems to have discovered all about the house, and even old -Adam Coad obeys him. If he finds you here he will find means to kill -you." - -"You need not fear," I said; "to-night all the Killigrews will be -prisoners, and before long they will be hanged," and I told her what was -being done. - -"Then he cannot come back here to-night?" - -"No, he will not be here. All the same, let every door be bolted. But I -must away." - -She looked at me piteously. She was so changed, this maid Nancy, during -the last hour. All her reserve, all her coldness had gone. - -"But I will be back before morning," I said, "and then----" I stopped, -for my heart grew cold. In very truth, I seemed helpless. She seemed to -divine my thoughts, for she concluded the sentence. - -"I shall have no care. And yet," and this she said sadly, "O Roger, I -cared naught about this--this story of Trevisa's till to-night. If it is -true, I shall be dowerless--nameless. I shall take every thing and give -you nothing--that is--nothing but--myself." - -The last words came coyly, and yet with a sob, and for the moment I -cared nothing, even the loss of my old home weighed no more than -thistledown. But only for a moment; my destitution rested heavily on me -a minute later. - -"It is all well," I cried in a tone of confidence I was far from -feeling. "Even although Trevisa's story be true, I shall have--but there -is not time to tell you now. Wait for me, my love. No harm can come to -you to-night--and I will soon be back. I will not knock this time; you -may know me by this cry," and I imitated the hoot of a night bird. - -Soon after I rode away with a light heart in spite of my cares, and my -many doubts. I knew nothing of Otho's plans, and for aught I could tell -he might have spies all around the house; but no one molested me. Indeed -although I listened carefully all was silent as death, and I concluded -that the Killigrews had mustered all their forces in order to be ready -when Charles Stuart landed. - -When I reached Veryan Bay all was silent. It was perhaps ten o'clock, -only two or three hours before the Pretender was supposed to land, but -not a soul was visible. I rode across country in order to avoid coming -into contact with any of the friends of the Stuarts: for I knew that -were I caught it would mean instant death. Every footstep was, I was -sure, beset with danger; for while Hugh Boscawen had given me a passport -whereby I should be safe among his followers, I knew not where the enemy -might be lurking. - -Presently I reached the woods just above Veryan Bay, and with as little -noise as possible crept along under the trees. A few seconds later I was -surrounded by armed men. They had been lying quietly amidst the -brushwood until orders for action came. No sooner was my passport seen -than I was conducted to Hugh Boscawen. - -"Saw you that old man?" I asked. - -"Yes, but not until I had first received your letter." - -"Well, what did he say?" - -"He seemed weighted with important news at first, but presently he -talked of the most senseless matters." - -"Ah," I said, and instantly I surmised what it meant. Uncle Anthony had -guessed that I had penetrated his disguise, and had sent a message. - -"Did you see him immediately on his arrival?" - -"No, I had many things to occupy me, and I kept him waiting some time. -Your letter prepared me for the foolish things he had to say." - -"All your arrangements have been carried out then?" - -"Yes; one thousand men lie in this wood and a thousand more on the other -side of the valley. It was all I could raise on such short notice. But -they are enough. The Pretender's friends have got wind of my prompt -action. They have abandoned the idea of coming here. I am sorry, but it -does not matter; the craft containing Charles is on its way, and he will -be here in a few hours." - -He tried to speak coolly, but I could see that he was excited beyond -measure. His voice shook, and was fairly husky. - -"How do you know that they have abandoned the idea of bringing their -forces here?" - -"My spies discovered it," he said shortly. "Oh, I have not been idle, -young man; my men have had eyes and ears everywhere." - -I realized then as I felt when at Tregothnan that he seemed to resent my -questions, and I knew that his abilities did not equal his zeal. I could -quite believe that the Killigrews had abandoned the idea of meeting the -forces which Hugh Boscawen had gathered, but I did not believe that they -would submit so meekly as this man seemed to think. As far as I could -judge, matters were ill-arranged, and although every one was on the -tiptoe of expectation, there seemed to be little definite idea as to the -serious issue at stake. - -"You see," he went on, "such a number of men could not be got together -so secretly as I had hoped. The Pretender's friends found this out, and -not a man of theirs is to be found within two miles. Of that I am sure." - -"And do you think, my lord, that they will give up so easily?" I asked. - -"They cannot help themselves. I tell you the coast is guarded two miles -in each direction." - -"No more than two miles?" - -"Is not that enough, Trevanion! I tell you I saw through the whole -business ten minutes after you brought the news. You shall not be -forgotten, Trevanion, I can assure you that." - -"I suppose neither Sir Richard nor John Rosecorroch are here?" - -"No, there was no time to get advisers; besides it would have confused -matters. One general is enough." - -I felt impatient with the man, loyal and well-meaning as he was. I -remembered that he had paid but little heed to me at Tregothnan. -Doubtless during the hours I had been lying asleep through the day he -had given his orders, and in his own way had made ready. But he did not -know the resources of Colman Killigrew or Uncle Anthony, to say nothing -of Otho. - -"Have you considered, my lord, that they may still signal to Charles -Stuart farther up the coast?" - -"What mean you, Trevanion?" - -"Doubtless the Pretender set sail from the north of France, and is -sailing down the Channel. Think you the Killigrews have not prepared for -the present state of things? They have been too long plotting not to -realize their danger, and they will not allow Charles to walk blindfold -into your hands, especially now they know what hath been done. They will -either have moved their forces farther up the coast, or if that be -impossible they will have warned him not to land." - -"I tell you their forces have been disturbed. They have heard of what -has happened, and they have lost heart. As for the other, it is a dark -murky night, and no signal could be seen from afar." - -"But there is danger, my lord," I persisted; "and you would not like -Charles to escape you?" - -"No, by heaven, no! but what would you suggest?" and here the man -revealed the fact that he should have taken counsel in the affair. - -"I would suggest this, my lord. Give me a few men. I know the coast -well; I will go northward, and if they are seeking to signal, either I -will send you word, or, if I am able, take these Killigrews prisoners." - -"The plan sounds well, Trevanion. It can do no harm, and it shall be -done. Do you ride northward as you suggest." - -Now all along I had been a free lance in the business. Lord Falmouth, of -whom I have spoken as Hugh Boscawen, because our county people preferred -this honoured old name to the title which had first been given to his -father--Lord Falmouth, I say, had insisted that I was not in a fit -condition to render him active service because of my wound. In truth, as -I have before intimated, he urged that I should stay for some time at -Tregothnan, and although I had managed to persuade him as to my fitness -to travel and to meet him at Veryan Bay, I knew practically nothing of -what he had done. That he should have been able to secure such a large -number of men at such a short notice was indicative of his influence in -the county. As far as that matter goes, there was no man better known or -more respected, while the name of Boscawen was held in reverence from -Land's End to the banks of the Tamar, and even beyond it. At one time he -was believed to have much influence in Parliament, and no small amount -of power over King George himself. But I, who am not a politician, -cannot speak with authority on such matters. Of his kinsman, the great -Admiral Boscawen, and his prowess, all the world knows. But Hugh did not -possess the admiral's genius as a commander, and I could not help -seeing, ignorant as I was in all matters pertaining to warfare, that the -matter seemed sorely bungled, because of a failure to understand how -wily Uncle Anthony and the Killigrews were. - -However, I rode off with a few men, and found my way with all diligence -along the coast. As Boscawen had said, it was a dark, murky night, and -it would be difficult to see a signal from afar. I dared not ride very -near the coast, as many parts of it were dangerous; indeed it was with -difficulty that we made the journey at all. The country was thickly -wooded, and pathways were few. - -I had gone perhaps four miles beyond the spot where Boscawen's men lay, -keeping a sharp lookout on the coast all the way, when I stopped the -horses and listened. We had been riding through fields and by the side -of hedges, so as to make as little noise as possible, and I had -commanded a halt because I thought I saw two or three dark forms not far -away. For some minutes we listened in vain, but presently I heard the -sound of footsteps coming along a lane near by. Creeping silently to the -hedgeside, I could detect the noise of three men coming from a northward -direction. - -"It's all up," I heard one say. - -"Yes, we'd better get as far from these parts as possible." - -"I suppose a big fire has been lit up by Chapel Point!" - -"Yes, that was the signal agreed on in case of danger." - -"Do you think they'll see it? It's a beastly night." - -"If they can keep it up long enough." - -"Ah, yes; if they can do that the vessel will turn back." - -"I suppose so." - -The men passed on, and I heard them discussing the situation as they -trudged in the direction of St. Austell; but this was all that came to -me distinctly. I had heard enough, however, to confirm my suspicions. My -plan now was to send two men back with the news, and then to ride on to -Chapel Point, a spot some distance farther north. - -Half an hour later I was near enough to Chapel Point to see the ruddy -glow of a beacon light, and I became sadly afraid lest Hugh Boscawen -would not be able to send men in time to extinguish the fire before it -was seen by the Pretender. Indeed, so much did my fears possess me that -I could not remain inactive, and so, foolishly, I crept nearer and -nearer the danger signal. I was drawn on by a kind of fatal fascination, -and so excited did I become that I recked nothing of the danger by which -I was surrounded. - -It soon became plain to me that the spot was well chosen. A huge fire -was lit on the slope of a hill, and thus the blaze, while hidden from -the neighbourhood of Veryan Bay, could be plainly seen by any who sailed -down the Channel. In the ruddy glow, too, I could see many forms; and as -I thought how much depended on extinguishing the blaze before it could -be seen by the rebels, I had difficulty in restraining myself from -rushing thitherward single-handed. Indeed I did, in order to watch their -actions more closely, leave the men who accompanied me, and this, as -events will show, almost led to my undoing. - -I had not been away from my companions more than a few minutes when I -was roughly seized, and even before I had time to cry out I was dragged -away into the darkness. How far I was hurried on I scarcely know; but -presently when I was allowed to stop, I found myself surrounded by a -dozen or more men, amongst whom I detected Otho Killigrew and Uncle -Anthony. I could plainly see them, for the light from the fire threw a -ruddy glare upon us. We stood in a hollow, however, and were partially -sheltered. - -"Ah, Roger Trevanion," said Otho Killigrew, and his voice was husky -with savage joy. "I did not think we should meet again so soon." - -"No," I replied as coolly as I was able, "and you would not care to meet -me now if you were not surrounded by a dozen of your followers." - -"I always like playing a safe game," he replied slowly as was his wont. - -"Even although you have to be a coward; this morning you ran away from -me like a whipped schoolboy." - -"I had matters of more importance to perform than to kill a ruffian," he -replied. - -"Apparently," I said, with a laugh I little felt, "but you miserably -bungled your matters." - -My words evidently stung him. - -"Have a care, Roger Trevanion," he said. "This morning we both used a -well-worn proverb--'he who laughs last laughs best.' I think that -applies to me, for in a few minutes you will have gone to that place -where there will be little laughter, and where you will be in company -with the personage who describes himself as travelling to and fro in the -earth, and walking up and down in it." - -"Scarcely," I replied. "You could never be happy without your constant -friend and master." - -I heard Uncle Anthony chuckle in his quiet way, but Otho went on still -in cold, cruel tones: - -"I have not yet decided what death you shall die. I think, however, that -I shall increase the brilliancy of the light yonder by using you as -fuel. It will be excellent preparation for you too." - -"That would be just like you," I said; "you are too great a coward to -try and kill me in open fight. However, let's have done with it as -quickly as possible." - -I said this, I must confess, with difficulty; my throat was dry, and -even then I could almost feel the fire burning my flesh. At the same -time I knew that such words would make him desire to prolong my agony, -and, in truth, his devilish desire to taunt me and make me suffer saved -my life. - -"All in good time, Roger Trevanion," he said coolly. "There is no hurry -for a few minutes, and the devil can wait. I have a few things to tell -you, too. I have had some slight training for the priesthood, and I wish -to give you a few comforting messages before you depart, just as a -priest should." - -"Go on," I said grimly, but indeed I was sore afraid. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -HOW BENET KILLIGREW AND I FOUGHT IN THE LIGHT OF THE BEACON FIRE. - - -"Of course you expect no mercy from me?" said Otho presently. - -"I know you are too good a pupil of your master to dream of such a -thing," I replied, and even as I spoke I wondered how long it would take -the messenger I had sent to reach Hugh Boscawen, and whether help could -arrive before Otho had completed his designs. - -"Be careful, Roger Trevanion," he said bitterly. - -"Why?" I asked. "I know you will do your worst whatever may happen. Say -your say, man, and unless you gag me I shall say mine." - -"Yes, I will say my say. Oh, I know what you are thinking. Well, we have -sentinels in every direction, and the moment there is a sign of any -friends of yours coming, we shall be warned, and that moment you shall -die." - -My heart sank as he said this. For although I do not think I fear death -more than another man, I did dread the cruelty of this man. Besides, I -longed for life; never, indeed, had it been so sweet to me as now. Only -a few hours before my dear maid Nancy had laid her head on my shoulder -and had sobbed out her love to me. I knew, too, that she would have a -bitter enemy in Otho, and if I were dead she would be a prey to his many -wiles. Still I determined not to betray fear. At any rate, he should not -have the comfort of making me plead for mercy. - -"Then say on," I said, "your thoughts can give you little comfort; you -have been outwitted, beaten all along the line. I can die, but not -before I've drawn your teeth." - -"Except that Charles will not land." - -"If that is any comfort to you, except that." - -"We may as well add another thing," he sneered; "but I will refrain, -because it refers to a lady." - -I was silent. - -"Oh yes, I have touched you at last, have I? Well, let me give you a -little comfort in that direction. The lady shall be well looked after." - -I looked at Uncle Anthony as he spoke, and saw the old man's face -twitch. In spite of myself I was comforted. My dear maid was not without -one friend. - -"Perhaps I will refer to that again presently," he went on; "you will be -glad to hear her name in your last minutes. But let me tell you another -thing: Roger Trevanion, I hate you." - -"Doubtless," I said with a sneer. - -"I hate you," he went on, and now he spoke quickly and passionately. "I -hate you because again and again you have beaten me, and I never forgive -a man who has done that. You have outwitted me--yes, I will admit -it--and have made the only woman----" he stopped a second as though his -passion had led him to commence a sentence which he did not know how to -finish. "God is tired of you," he continued presently, "for you have -hindered the true king from coming back to England, and with the true -king the true faith. We owe our failure to you." - -"Yes, you do," I replied, "you do. You thought to restore the fortunes -of your dying name. Religion is little to you. How can it be? But the -failure of your plans to bring the Pretender here is the deathblow to -your hopes. To succeed you have lied, you have played the spy; you have -bartered friendship, and all things good and true. Well, I have beaten -you. You can take a paltry revenge by killing me, but you cannot undo -the fact that I have beaten you." - -I felt a savage joy in saying this, for at that moment I cared for -nothing. - -"You will not fight as a man should," I went on. "When it comes to open -blows you run away like a coward. You prefer plot and intrigue, and lies -in the dark." - -"It cannot be said that you are guiltless of plot and intrigue, either," -remarked Uncle Anthony quietly. - -"I have been obliged to use my enemies' weapons," I replied; "but I have -betrayed no man, no woman. I have sought to hurt no man. Nay, I have -ever tried to befriend rather than to harm." - -"I know more about you than you think," remarked Uncle Anthony; "and at -one time I should have been sorely disturbed at doing you harm, so much -did I believe in you. It is little use deploring the inevitable. I am -too old a man to give up because of one failure, or to cry out because -God seemeth against me. But why did you interfere, Roger Trevanion? You, -the gay spendthrift--you, who have cared but little for aught save your -gaming and your revelries. Why did you not live your life, and let -others deal with matters of serious import? Religion is naught to you. -It is everything to some of us." - -"Because the society of a pure woman made me ashamed of myself," I -cried; "because she made me remember my name, my race, and my duty to my -country and to God." - -The old man sighed, while Otho spoke apart with two or three of the -men. - -"Methinks I had better have killed you this very evening," he said; "my -hand was on the trigger of my pistol." - -"When we met?" - -"Aye." - -"And I might have had you arrested," I replied. "I recognized you in -spite of your disguise. I wrote a note to Lord Falmouth warning him that -no reliance could be placed upon the information you might give. I might -have added your name." - -"So you might," he said quietly, and he seemed in deep thought. "Then -this danger signal would not have been seen," he added. - -At that moment we heard the sound of a gun coming from across the -waters. - -"Ah!" cried voices all around me; "they have seen the danger signal. Now -we must leave." - -"But not before I have dealt with Roger Trevanion," cried Otho -Killigrew; "now, you fellows, do my bidding." - -"Not that, by God, no!" cried one of the men, "let him die as man -should. I'll have naught to do with roasting." - -"But we owe all our failure to him," cried Otho. - -"You have your own private grudge, no doubt," said another. "Kill him as -a gentleman should be killed. Hot lead, cold steel, or the water, I -don't mind which, but not that." - -I looked around as well as I could, but Uncle Anthony had gone, and I -saw that there was a movement among the men who had waited by the fire. - -"Then it shall be cold steel," cried Otho, and he drew his sword from -his sheath. - -If it be possible to realize a sense of satisfaction at such a moment, I -realized it then. At any rate, I was not to suffer the cruel torture -which Otho intended. Indeed, I doubt whether my mind could have -withstood much longer the strain I was undergoing. For the last few days -my life had been one constant excitement. Every nerve was strung to the -highest pitch, and although my wound was neither deep nor dangerous, it -had pained me much. - -"They laugh best who laugh last," said Otho, coming to me grimly, "and I -shall laugh last, I warrant you." - -"Be quick, then, and do your devil's work!" I cried aloud, for I was -sore wrought upon. "I cannot touch you, I am bound, so you are safe. But -I would to God I could die at the hands of a man, instead of a -revengeful cut-throat." - -"No, you shall die by my hand," said Otho, slowly and grimly. - -"No, by Heaven he shall not!" cried a voice near; "whatever he is, -Trevanion is a brave man, and he can fight. I would I had known you were -here sooner. Ah, I love a man who can fight! Cut the ropes, men, and let -him die as a man should!" - -It was Benet Killigrew who spoke, and I saw his eyes fairly gleam with -savage joy. - -"Yes, it is I, Roger Trevanion," he cried; "I told you we should meet -again; I told you we should fight again. Faith, I almost forgive you for -having spoiled all my old dad's plans; I shall have a fight after all, a -real fight with a man who knows the use of a sword. Aye, but I love you, -Trevanion. I love you!" - -"Benet, this is not your affair," said Otho; "it was agreed upon that -this fellow should be taken and killed at all hazards, and that I should -see it done." - -"I care not, Otho. He is a worthy gentleman, and he shall die as -becometh one. Oh, you need not fear, I will kill him; but not as a -butcher may kill a pig. Cut his cords, men. Nay I will do it myself. -There, that's it. Stand up, Roger Trevanion. Ah! they have not taken -your sword from you; it is well! Stand around, men; there is plenty of -light." - -For once Otho Killigrew yielded to his brother. Perhaps he was glad to -do so, for while it may be easy to kill another in hot fight, a man must -have lost his manhood if he willingly and in cold blood will kill -another who is helpless and bound. Besides, Otho knew it to be dangerous -to stay there. The king's men might come at any minute. - -"Yes, I will leave you to my brother, Roger Trevanion," he said slowly; -"I think I am glad he came. He saves me from doing dirty work." - -"Very dirty," I replied. - -"Aye," he said, "just as a hangman's work is dirty. Still it is -necessary, and Benet is better fitted for it than I. And before I go, I -will give you a little information. I go to see a lady who is a mutual -acquaintance. I will tell her how I left you. She will be much -interested. You are about to take a long journey, and the end thereof -will be dark. I wish you all the joy you can get out of it. I will tell -our lady friend about it, as we caress each other and laugh at you." - -"Coward," I cried, unable to control myself, "base, skulking coward. -Come back and fight me," but he laughed in his quiet way as he mounted a -horse that stood near-by. - -"By the way," he continued, "you stole my horse, but Benet will make -that all right. You will soon be in congenial company--and so shall I. -Good-night!" - -"You are right, Trevanion," cried Benet in almost a friendly tone. "Otho -is a coward; he hath a way with him which drives me mad. Ah, but I love -you. Stand around, men. Now draw, man"; and putting himself in a posture -of defense, he made his sword whistle about his head. - -"Had we not better get away to a distance?" asked one who stood by. "We -can now do no good by staying, and we may be in danger at any minute." - -"Nonsense!" cried Benet. "They will have heard the guns as well as we, -and they will know what it means. The game is up, I tell you. Besides we -can never find a better place than this. Here is green grass to stand -on, and a rare light. Now, Trevanion." - -I drew my sword and stood before him. Even as I did so I knew to whom I -owed his coming. It was Uncle Anthony who had told him how I stood. The -old man knew his disposition, knew that fighting was the breath of Benet -Killigrew's life, and was sure that it would be untold joy to him to do -battle with me again. Perhaps he hoped that in some way I might be able -to successfully defend myself. For the hermit felt kindly towards me, -even although I had thwarted the hope of his life. Strange as it may -seem, however, I had almost forgotten the greater issues at stake. While -I had spoken with Otho and Uncle Anthony, and heard the mutterings of -bitterness among their companions because their hopes had been -frustrated, I felt that I had indeed taken part in a very important -business, that, perhaps, I had changed the very life of the country. I -had to some extent realized the bitter disappointment they must have -felt, as well as their great anger towards me. But now my thoughts were -narrowed down to smaller issues, and although just after I drew my sword -I heard the dull boom of another gun resounding across the waters, I -thought nothing of the rage that the young Pretender must have felt, or -of what it might mean to millions of people. - -My great thought was to sell my life dearly, for now that I was once -more free I felt my own man again. I knew that Benet Killigrew was a -great fighter, and although he had not been master in the past, I stood -at great disadvantage now. I had been weakened by my wound, and my -experiences of the last few days were not of a nature to fit a man to -fight with such a swordsman as Benet. All around me stood the dark -angry faces of his friends, and I was sure that, even should I master my -opponent, they would see to it that I should not escape alive. Still a -man at thirty-two years of age is not easily conquered. He has not lost -the hot blood of youth, and he has also gained the caution and the -judgment necessary to use his strength wisely. - -And this I determined to do. Most of the men who had lit the great -beacon fire were gone, and I hoped that even in spite of my dark -prospects I might still be able to keep my skin whole. I knew the man -who stood before me. Passionate, daring, and strong as he might be, he -had still the feelings of a gentleman. There was nothing cunning in his -nature. He would fight openly, fight for the very joy of fighting. The -ferociousness of the savage he doubtless possessed, but he had higher -feelings as well. - -"It gives me joy to meet you, Benet Killigrew," I said. "If I am to die, -I shall be glad to die at the hands of a brave man, rather than to be -butchered by one who knows not what a swordsman ought to feel." - -"Ah! good!" he replied, "it is not oft I can find a man who is worthy of -standing before Benet Killigrew"--this he said with a kind of mountebank -bravado peculiar to him--"and it gives joy to my soul to meet a man. I -do not know much about who is the true king. I joined the business -because there was a chance of a fight. But I am sick of it. No sooner -was it discovered that there would be three to one against us than they -all showed the white feather, and so I was robbed of a rare bit of fun. -But you have turned up, Trevanion, and by my soul I love you for it; and -although I must kill you, because I have given my promise, I shall be -fair grieved to do it." - -"At least we will fight as gentlemen," I replied, "and neither I am sure -will take advantage of the other." - -"That goes without saying," he cried; "but come let us begin, we are -wasting time! Guard!" I must confess that all my own love for a fight -was aroused in me at that moment, and I needed no further invitation. At -the same time my policy was to act only on the defensive. I knew that -Benet would be careful, and would throw away no chances. - -I have thought since that the scene must in its way have been -impressive. The great "danger fire" still cast its ruddy glow upon the -dark faces of the men who formed a ring around us, while in the near -distance the waves surged upon the rock-bound coast. It must have been -far past midnight, and the winds played among the newly budding leaves -which appeared on the trees in the woods nearby. Above the sounds of -both wind and waves could be heard the clash of our swords and the sound -of Benet's voice as we fought. For there was nothing cool and contained -about this man. He could not help but express his feelings, and every -time I parried his thrusts he gave a cry of pleasure and admiration. - -"It is a joy to fight with you, Trevanion," he would say; "By Heaven, -you are a man! Good! Well parried!" - -His eyes continued to gleam with a savage joy, and he constantly laughed -as though he were enjoying himself vastly. - -Presently, however, he grew more serious, for I was very careful. I -contented myself with parrying, never offering to return his thrusts, -and although he tried hard he could not so much as touch me. - -"By Heaven, fight!" he cried at length, but that I would not do. My -policy was to tire him out if I could, and then disarm him. This, -however, was easier said than done. He fought on with savage pleasure, -showing no weakness. His wrists seemed to be made of steel, and his eyes -continued to shine with a passionate light. - -We had been fighting for some minutes, when I thought it wise to change -my tactics. I slowly yielded before him, and he thought my guard grew -weaker. - -"Ah!" he cried with satisfaction. - -Just at that moment I heard a cry among the woods. - -"It's the Boscawens!" cried one of the bystanders. "Quick, Killigrew, we -shall be in danger soon!" - -At this my heart gave a great bound, for hope grew stronger. I might -live to see my dear Nancy again, and this thought nerved my arm. I -thought of Otho's threat, and I longed to get to Restormel and see if my -love was safe. - -I still pretended to yield to Benet, and while my guard was still -sufficient, I made him believe it was growing weaker. - -Another cry came from the woods, sharper and clearer. - -"The signal!" cried the bystanders, "the last signal. We must be away." - -"No, he yields," cried Benet, "and I promised to kill him, and I will -keep my word. Ah!" - -"But they will soon be here. Let us settle the business for you." - -"No, by Cormoran, no! What! Benet Killigrew call help? I'll fight and -kill him by myself though ten thousand Boscawens stand by!" - -"But there is danger, man! If we are caught we shall be hanged!" - -"Can't you see I am fighting!" roared Benet, still keeping his eyes upon -me, and never for a moment thrown off his guard. - -All the same, this talk was not to his advantage. It made him somewhat -rash, and I knew that my chance had nearly come. - -"'Tis they!" one cried presently. "Truscott, give me your pistol!" - -"I'll kill the man who interferes," said Benet madly; "I promised that -there should be no unfair advantage, and by Heaven there shall not!" - -But his speech caused his own undoing. It was impossible for any man to -fence well under such circumstances, and so I was able to use the chance -I had long been waiting for, and his sword flew from his hand. - -At that moment there was the tramp of horses' hoofs and the shout of -voices, and I knew that the bystanders became panic-stricken. - -"We cannot go without killing him," cried one. - -"No; very good, then"; and a bullet whizzed by my head, after which I -heard retreating footsteps. - -"Fly, Benet Killigrew!" I panted. - -"No, by God, no!" - -"Yes," I answered; "you had not fair play. Those fellows confused you. -We will finish another time. If the Boscawens take you, you will be -hanged!" - -"Will you fight again?" panted Benet. - -"Yes; now begone!" - -But it was too late. A dozen horsemen, headed by Hugh Boscawen, rode up -to us. - -"Safe and unhurt, Trevanion?" he cried. - -"Yes, my lord." - -"It is well. Have they all gone! No! At least here is one prisoner." - -"No, I think not, my lord," I answered; "this gentleman and I have been -settling a long-standing affair." - -"Aye, but he is a rebel." - -"Nay, my lord, let him go free," I said excitedly, for I could not bear -the thought of Benet being treated as a rebel. "I will swear to you that -this gentleman hath never plotted against the king. He is an honourable -man; but for him I should have been dead ere this." - -"But you were fighting with him." - -"The fight was a private matter, my lord. I ask you for his liberty as a -special favour. I will give my word that he will never lift up his hand -against the king's true subjects." - -"I like not to refuse you anything, Trevanion," said Boscawen, "you -rendered such signal service. Well, if the fellow will give his word -that he will in no way help the Pretender's cause, I will for your sake -set him at liberty." - -"Aye, I will promise, gladly," cried Benet; "I hate the whole business." - -"Then you are free," said Boscawen. - -"Good!" cried Benet, "and, by Heaven, I love you, Trevanion; I love you! -And I have your promise. Another time?" - -"Yes, another time." - -He took his sword, and laughed a great laugh. "It is well," he said; "I -love you for a man, and you are more worthy of the maid Nancy than I." - -He left then, and a few seconds later was lost in the darkness, for by -this time the beacon fire began to burn low. - -Of all that was said during the next half-hour I have but little -remembrance. Many questions were asked me which I answered as well as I -was able, and many things I heard which I was but little able to -understand, for my mind was sorely exercised as to what had become of my -dear maid. After a time, however, I was able to get a word with Hugh -Boscawen alone, when I told him of what Otho Killigrew had said. - -"We will go thither," he cried; "I myself will accompany you to the -house. If we be quick, we shall be able to capture this fellow. He at -least will be a valuable prisoner." - -So as quickly as possible we set out for Restormel, but so anxious was -I that I fretted and fumed at the delay in starting and the slowness of -our journey. - -Morning was breaking when we reached Restormel, and the sight of the -house set my heart beating fast for joy, for I hoped that soon I should -hold my love in my arms again. But sore disappointment was in store for -me. We found the house empty save for Adam Coad and his wife. Neither of -them knew where Nancy was. All the old man could remember was that they -had heard a noise in the house, and when they had searched for his -mistress she was nowhere to be found. - -Again I remembered Otho's words, and then my overtaxed nature yielded to -the continuous strain; I felt my blood grow cold and head grow dizzy. -After that all became dark to me. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -OTHO KILLIGREW'S LAST MOVE. - - -I suppose I must have been sorely ill, for consciousness did not return -to me for some time, and even when it did I was much bewildered and -sadly weak. My memory played me many tricks, too, and I have been told -since that my words were wellnigh meaningless. Hugh Boscawen sent for -the doctor whose drugs had done me so much good the previous day, and on -his arrival I was put to bed, and after having drunk a large quantity -of the decoction he prepared, I became unconscious again. I suppose the -stuff must have been a kind of sleeping draught, for although it was yet -morning when I had been put to bed, daylight was altogether gone when I -awoke. The room in which I lay was lighted by means of a candle, and by -my side sat Mr. Inch the doctor. - -"How long have I been asleep?" I asked. - -"At the least twelve hours," and Dr. Inch laughed cheerfully. - -"Twelve hours!" I cried aghast. - -"Twelve hours, and verily I believe your life hath been saved thereby. I -will now take away a little blood, and in a few days you will be well." - -This he said in evident good-humour with himself, as though he had -effected a wondrous cure. - -"Twelve hours!" I cried again; "then Otho hath fifteen hours' start of -me." - -"I know not what you mean. My care hath been that you should have -necessary rest and restoration. This you have had. You are much better -now, are you not?" - -"Oh, I am all right," I said, sitting up in my bed; and indeed I felt -quite refreshed and strong. "But where am I?" - -"At Restormel." - -"Oh yes, at Restormel," and instantly I had grasped the whole situation. -"And Boscawen, where is he?" - -"Lord Falmouth hath had many matters of importance to deal with; he went -away before I came, but left word, saying he would if possible return to -you this evening." - -"But did he seek to find Otho Killigrew; has he any knowledge of his -whereabouts? Does he know where----" - -I stopped then, for I remembered that Dr. Inch must have been ignorant -concerning the matter which lay so near my heart. Still I could not -refrain from asking many questions, although the doctor was able to give -me but little satisfaction. - -Just as I had consented to be bled, and was making ready for the -operation, Hugh Boscawen came into the room. He had evidently spent a -busy day, for he looked much wearied, but expressed delight at seeing me -so well. - -"Have you found them?" I asked, thinking of Otho and Nancy. - -"They have all escaped, except one or two foolish varlets who know -nothing about the business," he replied, mistaking the purport of my -question. "But I do not despair. My men are scouring the country, and I -have sent messengers to London with the news. And I have not forgotten -you, Trevanion; I have not forgotten you." - -"But Otho Killigrew and Mistress Nancy Molesworth, what of them?" I -asked feverishly. - -"I have heard nothing," was the reply, "nothing at all. I wish I could -get him; he and that old hermit have been the brains of the whole -matter. Still, do not be anxious, Trevanion; I will find him. He hath no -friends in these parts, and therefore can have no hiding-place. The -coast is being watched everywhere too." - -"You do not know Otho Killigrew," I cried bitterly; "and it is no use -telling me not to be anxious. As well tell a boat to sail steadily on a -stormy sea." - -"It is no use fretting. All that can be done shall be done. It should be -easy to find him too, for we are all faithful to the king for many a -mile around, and I have given strict orders." - -At this my pulses started a-dancing again, for I remembered something of -importance. - -"How long hath it been dark?" I asked. - -"But an hour or so." - -"My lord, I must get to saddle again," I cried; "and I think, if you -will accompany me, you will be able to arrest Otho Killigrew." - -"Good!" he cried, "but where, Trevanion?" - -"But Master Trevanion must not rise," cried the doctor. "I must take an -ounce of blood from him, after which he must lie still for three days." - -"I shall need all my blood," I cried eagerly, and in spite of all the -doctor's persuasions I was soon on my feet again and ready for action. - -"Let me have some food," I said with a laugh, for I felt my own man -again, and the thought of action eased my anxious heart. - -Food was speedily set before me, of which I partook heartily, as every -man should who has work to do, and while I was eating I told Hugh -Boscawen my plans. - -"Know you aught of Peter Trevisa?" I asked. - -"But little," was his answer; "he is a man reputed to care for but -little save his ugly son and his money bags." - -"Have you ever been to Treviscoe?" - -"Never." - -"I have," I replied; "I believe Otho Killigrew is there. It is there he -hath taken Mistress Nancy, I could swear it." And then I told him of the -conversation I had heard between Otho and young Peter Trevisa. - -"There is naught in that," remarked Hugh Boscawen, shaking his head -doubtfully. - -"In itself there is but little," I answered, "but connected with all -else which I have heard there is much"; and thereupon I told him of my -suspicions. - -"It is worth trying for, anyhow," remarked Hugh Boscawen. "I will -accompany you to Treviscoe. If he be there, it accounts for my inability -to find him." - -A little later we rode towards Treviscoe, which as I have said was no -great distance from Restormel. We were well armed, and were also -accompanied by several men, upon whose trustworthiness Boscawen said he -could rely. - -"You have paid no heed to Trevisa?" I asked of him as we rode along. - -"No; Peter Trevisa hath in no way been under suspicion; besides, the -place is so near Restormel that I did not think there was any need. I -naturally set my men farther afield." - -"But the coast hath been watched." - -"Carefully." - -At this my heart became heavy again, for I felt sure that Otho Killigrew -could if he would devise plans whereby all Hugh Boscawen's followers -could be outwitted. Still I trusted that the two Trevisas, once having -Mistress Nancy in their midst again, would not let her go without much -hard bargaining, for I had suspicions concerning Otho's plans which will -leak out presently. - -"It will be well," I said presently, "if we enter Treviscoe secretly." - -"But that will be impossible." - -"To me alone it might be; but not to you. You hold the King's -commission. You can command, you can enforce threats, you can insist on -your own method of entrance." - -"True," he replied proudly. - -"Then I would suggest that you forbid the gatekeeper to communicate with -the house concerning our entrance, and threaten him with a severe -penalty if he disobeys. When we get to the house, command the servant to -show us to the room where his master is--also with a threat, without -letting any one know of our arrival." - -"I understand. Yes, it shall be done." - -"We must surprise them. If he have time to think, they will outwit us. -We must make no noise; we must enter the house unknown to its masters." - -"You speak wisely, Trevanion--perchance Trevisa hath had more to do with -treason than we wot of," and by this speech he betrayed the fact that he -had inherited much of his father's love for arresting people concerning -whom he had any suspicions. - -When we came to the lodge gate, the man let us enter without any ado as -soon as Hugh Boscawen had mentioned his name. I knew, too, by the fear -expressed in his quavering voice that we need have no apprehensions -concerning him. Our entrance to the house, too, was effected just as -easily. We crept silently along the grass which bordered the way, and -when I saw that no light shone from the front windows I surmised that -old Peter, if he was within, was in the library, which was situated in a -wing of the building in the rear of the main structure. This made our -work all the easier. I knocked lightly, Hugh Boscawen standing by my -side. - -An old serving-man opened the door, and gave a start of fear as soon as -he saw who we were, but my companion quickly brought him to reason; -indeed so great was his reverence for the name and power of the -Boscawens that he raised no protest whatever when he was told what he -desired him to do. - -"Utter no word to any one concerning our presence," said Hugh Boscawen -impressively. "Show us the door of the room where your master is, and -depart. These men of mine will stand here within call." - -The old serving-man tremblingly acquiesced. - -"Hath your master visitors?" continued Hugh Boscawen, still in a -whisper. - -"He hath, my lord; but he is loyal, my lord--loyal. Neither my master -nor his son hath left the house these two days." - -I knew this to be false; all the same young Peter might have met Otho -Killigrew without the man knowing anything about it. - -"Who are his visitors?" - -"I do not know, my lord." - -"Trevanion," whispered Boscawen to me, "I must serve the King. I must -find out if there be any treason about." - -"How?" - -"All means are honourable in the service of the King," he replied. "We -must listen." - -I saw his eyes gleam with eagerness; if ever man was alert to his -chances, it was he. I verily believe that nothing rejoiced him more than -to punish treason. - -We therefore crept noiselessly to the door, and soon my nerves were all -a-twitch with excitement, for I heard Otho Killigrew's voice, and he was -mentioning my own name, and I quickly judged that we had come at an -opportune time. - -"I never wished to be harsh to a lady," said Otho, "for that reason I -allowed your maid to accompany you this morning; when I took you, I am -afraid by guile, and somewhat unceremoniously, from the house you have -thought to be yours. But all is fair in love and war. I have also -allowed you to be alone throughout this day, but the time is come for -the settlement of matters, and this time Roger Trevanion will not be -able to help you." - -"And is it true, that is--what you told me about him?" - -It was my dear Nancy's voice, husky and tearful, which spoke; I gripped -my sword-hilt, and with difficulty kept myself from bursting open the -door. Hugh Boscawen held my arm, however, and motioned me to be still. - -"To quote the great bard," replied Otho in a mocking voice, "he is gone -'to that country from whose bourne no traveller returns.' Trevanion -sleeps with his fathers." - -"Killed by your hand?" - -"Nay cousin, not by my hand; by another's." - -"Like Richard, the murderous king, you hire your murderer, I suppose." - -"No; Trevanion died in a fair fight, died by my brother Benet's hand." - -"In fair fight, you say. Where? when?" and her voice was tremulous. - -"In fair fight; but we need not enter into details now. He is dead, and -I am suspected to have left the country with the others who led this -business--spoiled, I will admit, through Trevanion. But the end is not -yet, and he will not spoil our plans next time. But there are other -matters more important to me. My lungs pine for the air of France, and I -ask you to come with me." - -"No, I will not go with you." - -"Think again, my cousin; for thus I will call you, although we are not -related by law. We Catholics have always suffered--we suffer still. So -unjust are the English laws to Catholics that you to-day have according -to the law no name, no home." - -"Then why do you persecute me?" - -"Because I love you." - -"I do not believe it. If you loved me, you would leave me in peace." - -"I do love you, I offer you my hand in marriage. I offer you my name--an -old name." - -I heard a movement in the room, there was a sound like that of the -rustling of a woman's dress. Then I heard my dear maid's voice again. - -"Otho Killigrew," she said, "I know not what truth there is in what you -say. I know you to be a liar. Again and again have you tried to deceive -me. But I do not believe you would offer to marry me if I were nameless -and penniless. You--you are too base." - -"You mistake me, misjudge me, Mistress Nancy," said Otho slowly. "As I -tell you, Roger Trevanion is dead; he died before sunrise this morning -by my brother Benet's hand. And the other matter is also true. You have -no name. Let the fact become known, and you would be a wanderer, a -vagrant in the county, for none would give you a home. All children born -out of wedlock are despised. But I love you, I would save you from being -disgraced; I desire to give you my name, I will make you my wife. True, -when I sought your hand I thought you were rightfully the owner of -Restormel; but Peter Trevisa hath proved to me beyond dispute that you -have no shadow of claim to it. But I love you!" - -"This is true, my fair lady," and I detected old Peter's voice; "it is -true. I have told you so before, but he!--he!" and he giggled feebly, -"you know what you said." - -"And if I marry Otho Killigrew, you will keep the matter a secret, I -suppose." - -"I would do much for Otho Killigrew. Not that I agree with his views on -politics; oh no! 'Long live King George,' I say, but I would serve him -in this matter, and if you wedded him I would say nothing." - -"And what price would he pay you for this?" - -"He, he!" and again the old wretch laughed feebly, "there would be no -price. Of course not. It is simply an arrangement--a private arrangement -between two gentlemen. You see, my dear lady, I have proofs that your -father was not legally married. Still it is morally yours, and if you -marry my friend, Master Otho Killigrew, no one ever need to know that -you are base-born." - -He uttered the last words in such a tone as must have wounded my dear -maid sorely; but she spoke steadily and clearly for all that. - -"Look you," she replied, "your words may be true; I am afraid they are. -Well, tell all you can, proclaim to the world that I am base-born in the -eyes of the law. That threat shall not make me do what you ask. If I am -penniless, I am penniless; but rather than marry Otho Killigrew I would -beg my bread from door to door, I would earn my living as a servant in a -farm kitchen." - -"It is hard to use force, my fair cousin," said Otho, "but I am not -beaten easily. When I set my mind upon a thing,--well, I generally get -it." He hesitated again, and then went on still more slowly. "You see, I -generally prepare my plans carefully beforehand. I have done so in this -case. I knew your character, and I anticipated your answer. My friend -Trevisa is a very religious man, and hath a friend who is a clergyman. -It is true he doth not bear a very high character, but that is because -he hath been sadly misunderstood. Still, he is a very obliging man, and -has on many occasions rendered valuable service. At great risk to myself -I have brought him here to-night. He will overlook the little matter of -your consent, and marry us at once. You see, I love you, and--well, I -desire the rents of Restormel Estate; I need them badly in fact." - -"But I will not wed you." - -"I say in this case, the Reverend Mr. Winter will overlook the little -matter of your consent. It is true he is not of the true faith, but I -shall be willing to overlook that little matter in this case." - -"Then I will proclaim my shame to the world. I will tell every one what -you have told me." - -"That doth not matter. Peter Trevisa is the only one who holds the -secret of this matter. He will at the proper time deny all knowledge of -it. You see how perfectly plain-spoken I am." Then my dear maid spoke -again, and her voice was indeed sad. - -"I am all alone," she said, "I have no friends. You are many against one -poor girl. Very well, do your worst, I will not do one thing that you -say. Oh, you cowards, you poor miserable cowards! If I were a man you -would not dare act so. And I do not believe any one calling himself a -clergyman would do as you say; but even if he will, I will resist you to -the last, and I will die by my own hand rather than"--then I heard her -sob bitterly. - -I could bear no more. If this were a farce, I could not allow it to -continue further; if they intended carrying out their threats, it was -time to interfere; even Hugh Boscawen no longer held me back. I put my -shoulder to the door and burst it open. - -Without ado, Hugh Boscawen went across the room and placed his hand on -Otho Killigrew's shoulder. - -"Otho Killigrew, I arrest you in the King's name," he said. - -Otho did not lose his presence of mind, but turned coolly towards him. - -"Why, my lord?" he said, "what have I done to be arrested? I defy you to -prove aught against me." - -"That remains to be seen," he said; then he gave a whistle, and -immediately his men entered. - -Peter Trevisa and his son had started to their feet and were staring at -us, but were at first too frightened to speak; near them was a man -dressed as a minister of the gospel, and there was no need to take a -second look at him to know that he was a disgrace to his calling. -Doubtless he was one of those outcast clergymen who were notorious in -that day, and who would for a fee perform the marriage ceremony under -the most outrageous circumstances. The country had for a long time been -disgraced by its marriage laws, for thereby all sorts of outrages had -been committed. Young squires owning much property had been dragged into -inns, drugged, or made drunk, and had then been married even to fallen -women on the streets. It is true that such scenes, though common in -London, had not so often happened in Cornwall; at the same time, some -in our county had been forced into unholy alliances. All this became -impossible a few years after, when Lord Hardwick's famous marriage act -was passed; but at that time, had I not come upon the scene, I believe -that Otho Killigrew, in spite of my dear maid's continuous refusal, -would have used means to have gone through an unholy farce, and this -vile clergyman's signature would have made it legal. - -Not far from the rest Otho Killigrew had stood, and as I entered I had -seen the look of cruel determination on his face, the look which made -his brothers fear him and which told them that he would surely gain his -ends. Doubtless he had prepared for all exigencies, and had bargained -with the two Trevisas, for they, after failing to gain their way with -Nancy, would be willing to sell their secret to the highest bidder. - -My dear maid's face had been turned from me, but I saw she stood upright -before them, and was in an attitude of defiance, even although she stood -helpless and alone. - -She had not seen me; her eyes had been turned towards Hugh Boscawen, who -had gone straight to Otho Killigrew; neither, I think, had any one -noticed me. Doubtless they all fancied I was dead, killed by Benet -Killigrew's hand, even as Otho had said. - -"It is a dangerous thing to arrest the King's faithful subjects," went -on Otho quietly, although his lips twitched nervously, "and I am -faithful. True, evil reports may have been circulated about me; but who -is the man who can prove treason against me? No man, my lord." - -"There is one, Otho Killigrew," I said quietly. - -He stared like one who had seen a ghost, and stammered incoherently, but -I paid but little heed to him, for my dear maid had heard my voice, and -with a cry of joy and hands outstretched came towards me. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -THE KING'S GRATITUDE. - - -For the next few minutes every one in the room was in a state of -consternation, for so certain had they all been of my death that they -seemed to have difficulty in believing that I could indeed be Roger -Trevanion. Even Nancy, who had been cool and defiant up to now, broke -quite down, and asked me again and again, sobbing and laughing at the -same time, all sort of fond, foolish questions which I will not write -down. - -Presently, however, Otho Killigrew obtained command over himself, and -said to me: - -"The devil hath again missed his own then. I was a fool to trust Benet." - -"You see Benet fought as a man," I replied; "unlike you, he would not -act as a butcher." - -I was sorry afterwards that I answered him thus, for it is a coward's -trick to strike a man when he is down; but when I called to mind what I -had just heard I could scarce restrain myself. Had he shown any signs of -penitence I should have pitied him, for I saw that all hope had gone -from his face, and it is easy to have kindly feelings towards a man who -is beaten. - -Peter Trevisa, however, behaved differently. The old man's face was -yellow with fear, for he knew the power Hugh Boscawen possessed. - -"My lord," he whined, "this is a fearful blow, a fearful blow that you -should have discovered a traitor in my house. But I knew nought of it, -my lord; he came here on a matter entirely different." - -"He did," replied Hugh Boscawen, "and that matter shall be sifted to the -very bottom." - -"I do not think you--you understand, my lord," he said stammeringly. - -"Perfectly. You were about to force this maid into an unholy marriage, -and you had promised to keep secret some information you say you possess -concerning her father's marriage. Whatever it is, it shall be secret no -longer. That I can promise you. Whether you have placed yourself within -the grip of the law remains to be proved. That is a question which also -applies to you," he added, turning to the clergyman. - -"No, my lord," replied the Reverend Mr. Winter. "I was invited here to -perform a marriage ceremony in the ordinary way. I had no knowledge that -anything was wrong, and should certainly have refused to comply with the -wishes of Master Otho Killigrew after having understood the lady's -sentiments." - -It was, of course, impossible to prove that the man spoke lies, as the -man had uttered no word before, and we knew nothing of the history of -his coming. - -"Well, everything shall be sifted to the bottom," repeated Hugh -Boscawen, "and justice shall be done to all. As far as Mistress -Molesworth is concerned, she shall accompany me to Tregothnan this very -night. As for you, Trevanion, you will naturally want to go to your -home." - -"Pardon me, my lord," said old Peter Trevisa, his avarice overcoming his -fear, "he hath no home." - -"Hath no home, what mean you?" - -"Trevanion is mine, my lord; I possess all the deeds, and Roger -Trevanion hath no right to go there." - -"I have heard something of this," said Boscawen; "tell me all the -details." - -Whereupon Peter told him of his relations with my father and of the -episode which I described in the beginning of this history. - -"I think you have not told all, Master Peter Trevisa." It was Nancy who -spoke. - -"There is nothing more to tell--nothing," snarled Peter. - -"There is much," replied Nancy. - -"Then tell it if you care; tell it." - -But she was silent. She remembered that a recital of the scene would -give me pain, and spoke no word. - -"I will tell it, my lord," I said; "the time hath come when it should be -told. I did a base thing, I made a bargain with this man. He has told -you how he became sole possessor of Trevanion, but, as Mistress Nancy -has declared, there is more to tell. This man bade me come here, and he -promised me that if I would bring Mistress Nancy Molesworth here he -would give me back the deeds of the estate and forgive half the sum I -owed him." - -"But what was his purpose in proposing this?" - -"I knew not at the time, my lord. I was reckless, foolish, extravagant; -and to my eternal shame I made a bargain with him. After much difficulty -I brought her here, but not until I had besought her not to come. You -see she had made me so ashamed of myself that I loathed the mission I -had undertaken. I told her the history of what I had done, and in spite -of all my advice she insisted on coming." - -"I see. Then you can claim your own." - -"I offered it, my lord, offered it before an attorney, but he refused, -he--he would not take it." - -"Is that true, Trevanion?" - -"It is, my lord. I--I could not take the price of my base deed." - -Hugh Boscawen looked at me steadily; he was a gentleman, and understood -that which was in my heart. - -"That, too, must be investigated," he said quietly; "but still you have -not told me Trevisa's object in asking you to bring Mistress Molesworth -here." - -"It was this secret, my lord. He thought she was base like himself. He -believed she would be glad to wed his son when he placed his case before -her." - -"And she, of course, refused?" - -"Yes, my lord." - -Hugh Boscawen seemed to be thinking for a few seconds, then he said -quietly: - -"Yes, Mistress Molesworth shall accompany me to Tregothnan until the -matter be investigated, and you, Trevanion, must go to your old home. -Trevisa hath not complied with the usual formalities in calling in the -mortgages, hence the place is still yours." - -"No, no; it is mine, my lord," cried old Peter. - -"It is my advice, my wish that you go there, Trevanion, and you have the -right." - -"And I, my lord?" remarked Otho, who had been listening intently, "may I -be privileged to know where I am to go?" - -"You are a prisoner," replied Boscawen. - -It was sore grief for me to see my dear maid ride away with Boscawen, -even although it was best for her to do so. Indeed there seemed no way -in which I could serve her. In spite of her safety, therefore, I rode to -Trevanion with a sad heart; for truly all seemed darkness when she was -not near. I was weak and ill, too, for although I had disobeyed Dr. Inch -in going to Treviscoe that night, I was scarcely fit to undertake the -journey. - -It was late when I reached Trevanion, so late that the servants had gone -to bed, but old Daniel was quickly aroused, and no sooner did he know -that it was I who called to him than his joy knew no bounds. In a few -minutes every servant in the place was dressed, all eager to serve me. -The tears come into my eyes as I write even now, for I call to mind the -looks on their faces, their tearful eyes, and their protestations of -joy. I suppose I had been an indulgent master, but I had done nothing to -deserve the affection they lavished on me. - -"God bless 'ee, Master Roger; God bless 'ee!" they said again and again -as they hovered around me. - -All this gave me sadness as well as joy, because of the fact that -shortly they would all have to seek another master. Once back in the old -home again, it became dearer to me than ever. Each room had its history, -every article of furniture was associated with some incident in the -history of the Trevanions. Again and again I wandered around the house, -and then, unable to restrain myself, I went out into the night and -wandered among the great oaks in the park, and plucked the early spring -flowers. The night had become gloriously fine, and I could plainly see -the outlines of the old homestead, which was never so dear to me as now. - -I heard the clock striking the hour, and although it was two in the -morning, I did not go in, it was so joyful to breathe the pure spring -air and to wander among the places I had haunted as a boy. - -"Maaster Roger!" It was old Daniel who shouted. - -"Yes, Daniel; anything the matter?" - -"Aw, no sur, we was onnly wonderin' ef you wos oal saafe, sur; tes oal -right." - -"If it were only really mine," I thought, "and if those faithful old -servants could only have my dear Nancy as mistress. If I could but bring -her here, and say, 'This is all yours, my dear maid.'" - -Well, why could I not? It was still in my power. Mr. Hendy still held -the papers. It _was_ mine. But only by accepting the price of base -service. No, I could not be happy if I took advantage of the bargain. -The look in my dear maid's eyes forbade me. But what could I do? She was -nameless, and would, I was afraid, soon be homeless and friendless. Lord -Falmouth had told me to wait until I heard from him, before I went to -Tregothnan, and until that time I should not be able to see her. I would -have gone to London and offered my services to the King but for my -promise to await Boscawen's commands. - -I was sorely troubled about these things, and yet it was a joy to be at -Trevanion, joy beyond words. For I was at home, and my dear Nancy loved -me. Destitute we might be, but we were still rich in each other's love, -and as I remembered this I laughed aloud, and sang snatches of the songs -I had sung as a boy. - -"Daniel," I shouted. - -"Yes, sur." - -"Where is Chestnut?" - -"In the stable, sur." - -I made my way thither, and Chestnut trembled for very joy at the sight -of me. If ever a horse spoke, he spoke to me in the joyful whinny he -gave. He rubbed his nose against me, and seemed to delight in my -presence. After all, my homecoming was not without its joys. - -"Whoever leaves me, my beauty," I cried, "you shall not leave me; and -to-morrow we'll have a gallop together; you and I, Chestnut, do you -hear?" - -And Chestnut heard and understood, I am sure, for he whinnied again, and -when I left the stable he gave a cry as if he sorrowed at seeing me go. - -The last few weeks had been very strange to me, but I did not regret -them. How could I? Had I not found my Nancy? Had I not won the love of -the dearest maid in the world? Presently when I went to my bedroom I -knelt down to pray. It was many years since I had prayed in this -bedroom, not indeed since boyhood, but I could not help asking God to -forgive my past and to thank Him for making me long to be a better man. -I prayed for my dear Nancy, too; I could not help it, for she was as -dear to me as my heart's blood, and it was through her that God had -shown me what a man ought to be. - -I did not sleep long, I could not; as soon as daylight came I rose and -went out to hear the birds sing and to drink in the fresh sweet air of -the morning. Everywhere life was bursting into beauty, and the sun shone -on the glittering dew-drops. Presently the dogs came up to me and -greeted me with mad, rollicking joy and gladsome barking; and then, when -I went back to the house, the servants came around me bidding me a -pleasant good-morning, and hoping I was well. - -"You'm home for good, I hope, sur," they said again and again; "tes -fine and wisht wethout 'ee, sur; tes like another plaace when you be -here, sur." And then although I tried, I could not tell them they would -soon have to leave me, and that I was only there on sufferance. - -After that many days passed away without news coming from any quarter. I -saw no visitors save Lawyer Hendy, and he was less communicative and -more grim than I had ever known him before. He professed entire -ignorance of Peter Trevisa's plans, also of the investigation which Hugh -Boscawen was making. It was very hard for me to refrain from going to -Tregothnan, and demanding to see my Nancy, for truly my heart hungered -more and more for her each day. I heard strange rumours concerning the -Killigrews, but knew nothing for certain. Of Otho it was said that he -had escaped from the King's men and was again at liberty, and this made -me sore uneasy, for I knew that many schemes would be forming in his -fertile brain; but, as I said, I knew nothing for certain. I still -stayed at Trevanion, seldom going beyond the boundary of the estate, for -Hugh Boscawen had charged me concerning this when we had parted. - -At length, however, when many days had passed away, a messenger came to -me from Tregothnan bearing a letter which summoned me thither without -delay. So I mounted Chestnut, and before long I was closeted with Hugh -Boscawen in the library of his old home. - -"You expected to hear from me before, Trevanion?" he said cheerily. - -"I did, my lord," I replied, "and it hath been weary waiting." - -"I have not been idle," he replied. "It is but yesterday that I returned -from London. I have held converse with his gracious majesty, King George -II." - -I waited in silence, for I did not see what this had to do with me. - -"You found all well at Trevanion, I hope?" - -"All well, my lord." - -"You love the old place?" - -"Dearly, as you may imagine." - -"I can quite understand. This old house now--I have often been advised -to pull it down and build something more modern, but for the life of me -I cannot. Every room, every stone is dear to me. Probably my sons, or my -sons' sons, will build a more pretentious dwelling, but this is good -enough for me. It is a pity your pride forbids you from keeping that old -place of yours. The Trevisas would turn it into a dog-kennel. Ought you -not to reconsider the question?" - -"I have considered it many times, my lord, but the thing is impossible. -I did a base thing to promise Trevisa what I did, and to make a bargain -with him; it would be baser still to receive the wages of service, -unworthy my name." - -"Ah well, you should know your own affairs, only it seems sad that you, -the last member of a branch of your house, should be houseless, -landless, and all for a fad." - -"Better a Trevanion should be landless than take the price of -dishonour," I said. "Mistress Nancy Molesworth hath made me feel this. -I hope she is well?" I brought in her name because I was longing to hear -news concerning her. - -"We will speak of her presently; but yes, I may say the young person is -well. I understand, then, that you have decided to leave Trevanion -rather than profit by your bargain with Trevisa?" - -"I can do no other, my lord." - -"No, you cannot, Trevanion, you cannot. Still you are not going to leave -Trevanion." - -"I am afraid it cannot be helped." - -"Many things are possible when kings speak." - -"I am afraid I do not understand," I said with a fast-beating heart. - -"Then I will make you understand. I have, as I told you, but just -returned from London; I have held converse with his gracious majesty, -King George II. I have told him your story. I have informed him of the -signal service you have rendered." - -"Yes, my lord," I said, like one in a dream. - -"He is not ungrateful, nay, he is much pleased; and as a reward for your -fidelity and bravery, Trevanion is yours free of all incumbrances." - -What followed after that I have but a dim remembrance, for indeed I was -unable to pay much heed to the details which he communicated to me. -Enough that Trevanion was mine, and that I could now give a home to my -dear maid. - -"With regard to the other matter," went on Hugh Boscawen, "the King -could not interfere. The question of the law comes in, and the law is -sacred. The matter is not yet settled, but I am afraid everything will -pass to the next of kin." - -I said nothing, and although I knew it would be a sore blow to my dear -maid, I am afraid it troubled me but little, for had I not Trevanion to -offer her? - -"It will be a sad blow to the maid," said Boscawen, "not simply because -of the loss of the lands, but she is also without name. Foolish as it -may seem, the fact of the illegality of her father's marriage, even -although he thought all was well, will ruin her chances for life. Some -yeoman might marry her, but no one of higher position. You, for example, -would not give her your name. You could not. High as the Trevanions have -stood, your friends would close their doors to such a wife." - -"That would not matter, my lord," I answered quickly. - -"Do you know young John Polperro too?" he asked without noticing my -interruption. - -"I have seen him once," I replied. - -"It was at Endellion, was it not?" - -"Yes, my lord." - -"He has been here this morning." - -"Indeed," I said, and although I scarce knew why, I became strangely -excited. - -"He had heard of my return, and rode here with all speed. News had -reached him that I had assumed the guardianship of the maid. He had -heard nothing of--of Trevisa's secret, and he came to repeat his offer -of marriage." - -"Did he see her?" I asked. - -"No," replied Hugh Boscawen dryly, "he did not even ask for that -honour." - -"No," I replied, much relieved; "why not?" - -"He seemed eager to plead his cause until I told him the truth, and -then----" - -"What?" I asked. - -"He said he would consult his father." - -I laughed aloud. - -"You seem merry, Trevanion." - -"Yes, I am," I replied. "It shows the value of the love he protested at -Endellion. But it would not have mattered, she would not have listened -to him." - -"I suppose I can guess your reason for saying this?" - -"Most likely," I replied. - -"But surely, Trevanion, you will not--that is, consider, man. It would -not be simply wedding a penniless bride; she is worse than penniless. -You see this stain upon her birth closes the door of every house in the -country to her." - -"Not all," I cried. - -"You see," he went on, "you will now hold your head high when it is -noised abroad, as it soon will be, that you have received favour from -the King, that Trevanion is yours free from all encumbrance, you will be -able to choose your bride from the fairest and the richest. Besides, you -must think of further advancements at the King's hands. That would -become impossible if you wedded this maid." - -"My lord," I cried, "I love her! I never loved a woman before. I thought -I did ten years ago, and when she proved false I vowed I could never -trust a woman again. But now----" - -"But now, what?" - -"You can guess, my lord." - -"Then you are bent on marrying her?" - -"I am going to beg her, to beseech her if needs be," I replied. "You say -she is still in this house, my lord. Should I be imposing too much on -your kindness if I ask that I may see her. I have not beheld her for -many days, and my heart hungers for her sorely." - -"How old are you, Trevanion?" - -"Past thirty-two," I replied. - -"You are not a boy," he said like one musing, "and you ought to know -your mind." Then he looked steadily in my face as though he would read -my inmost thoughts. - -"He is right," he cried, looking fiercely out of the window and across -the broad rich valley where the clear water of the river coiled. He -seemed communing with himself and thinking of some event in his own past -life. - -"He is right," he repeated still fiercely; "by God, I would do it myself -if I were in his place!" - -He left the room abruptly without looking at me, and I was left alone. -Minutes passed, I know not how many, and I stood waiting for my love. - -Whatever might be the truth concerning her father's marriage, it was -naught to me. Now that I had a home to offer her, everything was plain, -and I could have shouted aloud in my joy. Had she been a beggar maid it -would not have mattered; I loved her with all the strength of my life, -and my love had made me careless concerning the thoughts of the world. -For love is of God, and knows nothing of the laws of man. Besides, I had -looked into the depths of her heart; I had seen her sorrow when she -thought I was in danger. I remembered the light which shone from her -eyes when she came to me that night at Restormel. I remembered the tone -of her voice when she had sobbed out my name. - -I heard a rustle of a woman's dress outside the door, and eagerly, just -like a thoughtless boy, I ran and opened it; and then I saw my Nancy, -pale and wan, but still my Nancy,--and then I wanted naught more. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -IN WHICH UNCLE ANTHONY PLAYS HIS HARP. - - -Now of what Nancy and I said to each other during the next few minutes -there is no need for me to write. At first joy conquered all other -feelings, and we lived in a land from whence all sorrow had fled, but by -and by she began to talk about "good-byes," and a look of sadness dimmed -the bright light in her eyes. So I asked her the meaning of this, and it -soon came out that she had been grieving sorely concerning the dark -shadow which had fallen upon her life. She had learned from Hugh -Boscawen probably about her father's marriage being invalid, and she -felt her position keenly. For although she had been treated with great -kindness at the home of the Boscawens, she could not help believing that -she was there on sufferance and not as an honoured guest. So to cheer -her I told her of the good fortune that had befallen me, and how Hugh -Boscawen had been commissioned to give me back my old home as a reward -for the services I had rendered to my country. At this she expressed -much joy, but persisted in saying that my good fortune had removed us -further away from each other than ever. And then she repeated what Hugh -Boscawen had said a few minutes before, and declared that she would -never stand in the way of my advancement. - -"And what would advancement be to me if I have not you, Nancy?" I asked. - -She thought it would be a great deal. - -"And do you love me, my dear?" I asked. - -She thought I had no need to ask such a question. - -"Then suppose you were mistress of Restormel, and I were without home, -would you let me go away because I was poor and what the world called -disgraced?" - -And at this my Nancy began to laugh, even while her eyes grew dim with -tears. - -"No, Roger," she said; "but--but you are so different." - -After that I would hear no further objections, neither indeed did she -offer more, for she saw that they grieved me, and so it soon came about -that she gave her consent to be the mistress of the home which I had won -back. - -"But you are giving me everything, and I am giving you nothing," she -said. - -"Nay," I replied, "but you can give me more, a thousand times more, than -I can give you. Even although I could give you Trevanion a hundred times -over, my gift would be as nothing compared with yours." - -"And what can I give you?" she asked as if she were wondering greatly. - -"Nancy Molesworth," I answered, and then the light came back to her eyes -again, and she came to me joyfully, even as she had come at Restormel. - -Now those who read this may regard what I have written as the foolish -meanderings of a lovesick swain, and not worthy of being written down; -nevertheless it gives me joy beyond measure to think of that glad hour -when I was able to make my Nancy laugh again. For I who for years had -laughed at love had entered into a new life, and now all else was as -nothing compared with the warm kisses she gave me and the words of love -she spoke. True, I had passed my boyhood, but I have discovered that, no -matter what our age maybe, the secret of all life's joy is love. Surely, -too, God's love is often best expressed in the love of the one woman to -whom a man gives his heart, and the love of the children that may be -born to them. - -I would not wait long for our wedding-day, neither, indeed, did my Nancy -desire it; and so three weeks later I took her to Trevanion, where she -was welcomed by my old servants, even as though she were sent direct to -them from God. And in truth this was so. - -Now the wedding feast at Trevanion was not of a kind that found favour -in the county, for by my dear maid's wish we had none of high degree -among us, save Hugh Boscawen only, who, in spite of his many duties, -spent some hours with us. Indeed, he did not leave till near sundown, -for, in spite of the many cares which pressed upon him, he seemed to -rejoice in the thought of our love, and in the glad shouts of the youths -and maidens who danced beneath the trees on the closely shorn grass. - -For my own part, my heart was overfull with gladness, for never surely -was the world so fair to any man as it was to me that June day. All -around the birds were singing as if to give a welcome to Nancy, while -everywhere the gay flowers gloried in their most beauteous colours as -though they wished to commemorate our wedding-day. Away in the far -distance we could hear the shout of the hay-makers, and above us the sun -shone in a cloudless sky. Everything was in the open air, for although I -loved the very walls of the old house, my Nancy desired that the wedding -guests should be received on the grassy lawns, where all was fair and -free, and where we could hear the distant murmur of the sea. And indeed -it was best so. There the farmers and their wives, whose families had -been tenants for many generations, conversed more freely, while the -young men and their sweethearts danced more gaily. - -But best of all, my Nancy rejoiced beyond measure, especially when the -old servants and tenants came to her and wished her all happiness. For -no one seemed to know but that she was the owner of Restormel. Neither -Peter Trevisa nor his son had breathed one word concerning their secret, -and Hugh Boscawen had held his peace. - -When the sun was sinking behind the trees and lighting up the western -sky with wondrous glory, the man to whom I owed so much took his leave. - -"Trevanion, you are a happy man," he said. - -I did not reply save to give a hearty laugh and to press Nancy's hand, -which lay on my arm. - -"I am afraid there may be dark days for England ahead, but you, -Trevanion, have entered into light. Now, then, before I go let me see -your tenants and servants dance again." - -So I called to the old fiddlers, men who had lived in the parish all -their lives, and they struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley," when old and -young laughed alike. - -"All seem happy save yon old blind beggar," remarked my friend; "he -seems sad and hungry." - -"Then he shall not be sad and hungry long," I said, noting for the first -time an old man on the lawn; "stay a little longer, and you shall see -that he will soon be as happy as the rest." - -"No," replied Boscawen; "I give you good evening, and all joy," and -therewith he went away. - -"Fetch yon old man, Daniel, and give him of the best of everything," I -said; "food and drink, aye, and a pipe and tobacco too. No man shall be -sad and weary to-day if I can help it." - -So Daniel fetched him, and all the while young and old laughed and -danced for very joy, aye, white-haired tottering old men and women, as -well as the little children made the place ring with their joyous -shouts. - -"You are happy, my love, are you not?" I said turning to the dear maid -at my side. - -"Yes, perfectly happy, but for one cloud in the sky." - -"Nay, there must be nothing. Tell me what that one cloud is, and I will -drive it away." - -"I cannot help it. You give me everything, and I give you nothing. I -never cared for Restormel till you told me you loved me. I do not care -about it for myself now--only for you, Roger. If I could bring you -something now----" - -"Please sir, that old man wants to speak to you." - -I turned and saw the old beggar standing by Daniel's side. - -"I wish you joy on your wedding-day," he said in a thin quavering voice. -He was much bent, and his eyes were nearly covered with green patches. - -"Thank you, old man," I said, "let them bring you food and drink. You -are weary, sit down on this chair and rest." - -"I wish my lady joy, too," he said; "full joy, complete joy. That is an -old man's blessing, and that is what I bring to her. May I--may I kiss -my lady's hand?" - -Now I was not over-pleased at this; but another glance at the poor old -creature drove away all unkind thought; besides, it was my wedding-day. -And so Nancy gave him her hand to kiss. - -"May every cloud depart from your sky, my sweet lady," he said; "aye, -and by God's blessing the last cloud shall be driven away." - -At this I started, for he had been repeating our own words. I looked at -him again, and my heart beat strangely. - -"Let me add joy to the day, and not sorrow," he continued. "Let me bring -my harp, and I will play the old Cornish melodies, and I will tell the -old Cornish stories." - -"But not until you have had food and rest," said my dear Nancy. - -He would not wait for this, however, so the people flocked around him, -and he played and sung wondrously for such an old man. After this he -told the people stories which moved the wedding guests much, first to -tears and then to laughter. - -"You shall stay at the house to-night, old man," I said; "what is your -name?" - -"I have many names," he replied, "but many call me David, because I am -cunning with the harp and can charm away evil spirits, even as King -David of old charmed away the evil spirits from the heart of Saul. There -is only one sad thought in the heart of your dear lady to-night, and -that my harp shall charm away." - -After the guests were all gone that night I called the old minstrel to -the room where my forefathers had sat, and where my Nancy and I had -come. The lights were not yet lit, for it was near midsummer, and the -night shone almost like day. The windows were open too, and I cared not -to shut out the sweet air of that summer evening. - -He came, bearing his harp with him, and when we were alone I spoke -freely. - -"Uncle Anthony," I said, "take off the patches from your eyes and stand -upright." - -"Ah, you have penetrated my disguise?" he said. - -"Even before you spoke so strangely," I replied. - -"I will not take off my patches, and I must not stay at your house -to-night, Roger Trevanion," he said quietly. "In an hour from now I must -be on my way again." - -"But why?" - -"I am not yet safe. For the present I will say no more. Sometime, -perchance, I may come to your house as an honoured guest." - -"And you shall have a royal welcome," was my answer. - -"But before I go, I would drive away the one cloud in the sky." - -I did not speak, for truly I was in the dark as to his meaning. - -"You, my lady Nancy," said Uncle Anthony, turning towards her, "believe -that you are not mistress of Restormel. I found out old Peter Trevisa's -secret, and so, although my heart was saddened at the failure of my -plans, and although you, Roger Trevanion, caused their failure, I -determined, after all our hopes were shattered, that I would find out -the truth." - -"And what have you discovered?" I asked eagerly. - -"I have been to Ireland--to many places," he answered, "and now I have -come to give my lady Nancy her wedding dowry. Here it is," and he placed -a package in my love's hands. "There is proof," he went on, "that your -father's marriage was valid, proof that none can deny, and so Restormel -is rightfully yours." - -At this my dear love broke down altogether, for she had never dreamed of -this, but soon her tears were wiped away and her eyes shone again. - -"O Roger!" she cried, "I am glad now that you thought I was poor when -you married me." - -Concerning the meaning of this I have asked her many times, but she will -not tell me, neither can I think what it is, for I am sure she never -doubted my love. - -"And what hath become of the Killigrews?" I asked presently, after many -things were said which I need not here write down. - -"They were hunted from place to place as though they had been foxes," -replied Uncle Anthony. "Old Colman hath died of disappointment; aye, -more than disappointment--of a broken heart; all the rest, with the -exception of Benet and Otho, have escaped to France. They will never -come back to England again." - -"And Benet and Otho," I asked, "where are they?" - -"Otho escaped," cried the old man with a low laugh; "he is as cunning -as the devil. He hath gone to Scotland, and hath joined the -Highlanders." - -"And Benet?" - -"Benet deserved a better fate. After you and he fought that night," and -again the old man laughed in his low meaning way, "and he had rejoined -his companions, he complained much of the way matters had been managed, -and declared that he would no more lift up his hand against the King. -Whereupon many being savage with drink, and mad at the words he spoke, -accused him of desiring not to kill you. This led to many unwise things -being said, and presently many of them turned upon him like a troop of -jackals turn upon a lion." - -"But he fought them?" - -"Aye, and rejoiced in it, for fighting is the breath of Benet's life. -But they were too many for him,--one acted a coward's part and stabbed -him in the back." - -Now at this my heart was sore, for although Benet and I had scarcely -ever met save to fight, and although he was a wild savage fellow, I -could not help loving him. - -"But he died like a man," I cried; "he showed no fear?" - -"He died grandly. He had but one regret at dying, he said." - -"And that?" I asked eagerly. - -"I was not there, but one who was, told me. 'Aye, I am grieved,' he -said, 'Trevanion promised to fight me. He was the only real man who -ever faced me, and now I shall not live to prove that I was the better -man of the two.'" - -We kept Uncle Anthony more than an hour, but we could not prevail upon -him to stay all night. It was not for him, he said, to stay at Trevanion -on the night after our wedding-day, but before he went he told us many -things concerning his life which I could not understand before. I need -not write them down here, for he would not wish it. I will only say that -the remembrance of the love he once bore for a maid made him love Nancy -as a daughter, and this almost led to a breach between him and the -Killigrews. - -"You will come again as soon as you can?" I said to him when at length -he left the house. - -"Aye, as soon as I can. May God bless you, Roger Trevanion." - -"He hath blessed me," I answered; "blessed me more than I believed -possible." - -"And God bless you, Mistress Nancy Trevanion," he said, turning to my -dear wife. - -"And may God bless you, Uncle Anthony." - -"Yes, Uncle Anthony, that is the name I love most. May I kiss your hand -again, dear lady?" - -"Yes," said my Nancy. - -"Not only your hand, dear lady, but your brow, if I may." - -"Yes, yes," was Nancy's response. - -"I loved a maid many years ago," he said; "her face was pure like yours, -my child, and her eyes shone with the same light, and she--she was -called Nancy." - -He kissed her forehead with all the passionate fervour of a boy, and -then went away without speaking another word. - -Of the packet he brought my dear wife I need say little, save that when -I showed it to Mr. Hendy, my lawyer, he remarked that none could doubt -its value. It proved beyond all dispute the validity of Godfrey -Molesworth's marriage with Nancy Killigrew, although the wedding took -place in Ireland under peculiar circumstances. And then it came about -that Restormel passed into our hands without question, and people who -would doubtless have treated her with scorn, had the marriage been -illegal, now desired to claim her friendship. - -I have often wondered since that night whether the Nancy which Uncle -Anthony had loved long years before was not the Nancy Killigrew who -became Godfrey Molesworth's wife, and my Nancy's mother. - -Hugh Boscawen rejoiced greatly over my dear wife's good fortune, and I -have since been given to understand that it was through him Peter -Trevisa had uttered no word concerning his secret, and that he was using -all his influence with the King in order to persuade him to seek to use -means whereby my Nancy might be able to rightfully claim her name and -fortune. Concerning this, however, he would never speak to me, although -I asked him many times. - -Not long after our marriage, however, serious matters disturbed the -country, and Hugh Boscawen became much perturbed. Charles the Pretender -succeeded in landing in Scotland with a very few followers, and -immediately he was joined by a large number of Highlanders. Concerning -his fortunes there is of course no need to speak. All the country rang -with the news of his victories, and finally of his defeat. Few, however, -seem to realize that, had he landed in Cornwall months before, his -fortunes might have been different. Some there are who say that there -was never a danger of his coming to a part of the country where his -chances would have been so poor, and many more say that the army of -brave-hearted Cornishmen were gathered together by Boscawen without -reason. But what I have set down shows that the man whom the world calls -Lord Falmouth, and whom I always love to think of as Hugh Boscawen, -although not a great leader of armies, was still wise in his times, and -a true lover of his king and country. - -Otho Killigrew became a follower of the Pretender in Scotland, and had -Charles Stuart been successful in his enterprises, he would doubtless -have given Otho as high a place as that which Tom Killigrew occupied at -the court of Charles II., perhaps higher, for he was cunning beyond most -men; but at the battle of Culloden Moor, which the Duke of Cumberland -won, and when the Pretender's forces were utterly routed, Otho was -killed. Thus it was that Endellion as well as Restormel came to Nancy, -for none of the Killigrews who fled to France dared to come back and -claim their old home. It was not of much value to us, however, for both -house and lands were mortgaged for all they were worth. - -I live at Trevanion still, for, although Restormel is a fine and larger -house, it is not home to me, neither is it to Nancy for that matter, and -we shall never think of leaving the spot endeared by long association -and obtained through the favour of the King. Besides, we could not be as -happy anywhere else. All the servants know us and love us, and old -Daniel, although he grows weak and feeble now, thinks no one can serve -us as well as he. Amelia Lanteglos, or rather Amelia Daddo, is no longer -maid to Nancy, for she hath married her one-time lover, who now hath a -farm on the Trevanion estate; but Jennifer Lanteglos is with us, and no -more faithful servant can be found anywhere. - -Our eldest son, Roger Molesworth, is true to the name he bears, for he -hath inherited all his mother's beauty, and looks forward to the time -when he will inherit Restormel and live on the estate; but our second -son, Benet, cares for none of these things. He is big and daring and -strong like the man after whom he is named, and cares for nothing so -much as the wild free life of the country. I tell Nancy that he -resembles Benet in many ways, and she, with the mother's love shining -from her eyes, says that he possesses all Benet Killigrew's virtues but -none of his vices. - -I have but little to tell now, and that little shall be told quickly. - - -About a year after the final defeat of the Pretender, and when the -country had settled down into peace, Jennifer Lanteglos came into the -room where my Nancy and I sat alone together, save for the presence of -Molesworth, who crowed mightily as he lay in his cradle. - -"Please, sur, an old man is at the door asking if he may come in and -tell tales." - -"Let him come in, Jennifer," I said. - -"In the kitchen, sur?" - -"No, in here," for a great hope was in my heart. - -A few seconds later an old man entered the room bearing a harp. - -"Welcome home, Uncle Anthony," I said. - -"No, not home," he said tremblingly, "but I will stay one night if you -will let me." - -"No, always," said my dear Nancy, "stay for the sake of my mother, the -other Nancy." - -He is with us still, and is much respected in our parish. No one knows -the part he played in the days before Nancy became my wife, and although -I believe Hugh Boscawen hath his suspicions, he says nothing. - - -THE END. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Mistress Nancy Molesworth, by Joseph Hocking - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH *** - -***** This file should be named 54239.txt or 54239.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/2/3/54239/ - -Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/54239.zip b/old/54239.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index df8e391..0000000 --- a/old/54239.zip +++ /dev/null |
