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, fromWadebridge 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 sincethought 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 startingthat 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 rememberthe 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 springassizes 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 thinkbest 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 aprima faciecase 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 tosee 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 aspossible. 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 inimminent 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'sTower 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.
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 forEndellion 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 whowillsave 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 assumesquid 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 theinformation 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 hadfancied 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 groundswhich 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 waswritten 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."
"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 cursedthe 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 andlooked 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, savewhen 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.
"Yourtower; 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 ofmytower, 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 mineburned 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.
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 mylate 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 ourjourney 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 itimpossible 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 withease 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 mewith 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 atBoconnoc, 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 darknesslooked 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.