"I wish it were. I have nothing whatever against you; on the contrary, I rather like you."
He spoke this kindly, and I detected, as I thought, a friendly look in his face, so acting on the impulse of the moment I said to him, "Will you listen to what I have to tell you?"
"Yes," he said, "I will listen."
Then I told him briefly all I thought necessary to tell, and yet I felt that I had not the power to tell the truth well.
"Your history seems very plausible, young man," he said, "but I have been warned against you."
"But Miss Naomi Penryn knows that I am not a madman, neither have I annoyed her in any way."
"You lie. I myself received a letter from her before you were brought here."
"Let me see that letter."
"No. Enough that I have told the truth. She fears you; she pleaded that you might be guarded until such time as it should be safe for you to be at liberty."
"Are you sure the letter was written by her own hand? Do you know her handwriting?"
"Know her handwriting! Why?" Then he added, quietly, "Yes, I know her handwriting."
"But why do you think I shall be set at liberty in a week?"
"Because she will have a protector."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that to-day she is being married to Master Nicholas Tresidder."
"To-day?"
"Yes, to-day."
"Go away," I said—"go away, for the sake of God. I want to be alone to think."
He looked at me I thought pitifully and kindly; then he heaved a sigh and went away.
When he was gone I lay for hours like one stunned. Food was brought to me, but I took no notice. Had poison been left in the room I believe I should have taken it, so weary of life was I. They had worked their will, then, and Naomi had been forced into an unholy marriage with the man who I was sure she did not love.
I thought of trying to climb to the window, of breaking the glass, wrenching the iron bars from the wall, and falling headlong upon the rocks below, but I was too weak. I made a score of futile plans, each madder than the other.
Presently I became more calm. Might not this be all lies? Or, again, even if it were true, ought I not, instead of contemplating suicide, to be brave and watchful, so that I might be able to protect her? Would she not as Nick Tresidder's wife need a friend? Besides—and then a score of conflicting thoughts seethed in my brain.
Presently I began to try and understand the meaning of the old man's words about being set at liberty in a week. What did it mean? If she was to be married that day, why was I not set at liberty at once? Then I came to the conclusion that the man who was my gaoler would have to wait for orders. Richard Tresidder would wait until the marriage was consummated before he would communicate with him.
But I will not try and recount all my thoughts. Manyof them were doubtless wild and foolish, neither would they interest those who may chance read this narrative.
For the next week, in spite of my despairing thoughts, I looked forward to my being set at liberty. I counted the days eagerly, and daily did I ask questions of the little old man who came to see me when my captivity should be ended. But he always shook his head, neither could I get from him any other answer.
When the week ended I expected something to happen. I should be probably blindfolded, pinioned, and conveyed to the walls of Pendennis Castle. But I was disappointed. A fortnight passed away, and still there was no change in my condition.
"What is the meaning of this?" I asked. "Why am I not liberated as you promised?"
But he gave no reply. Once I thought he would have spoken, for he seemed strangely moved, as though his mind were filled with doubts, but he left me without telling me the doubts which were in his mind.
Another week passed away, and in spite of myself I began to hope. If my captivity were to continue until Naomi was wedded to Nick Tresidder, did not my continued imprisonment show that the marriage had not taken place? I remembered Naomi's words. I thought of the look she gave me when she bade me good-bye. Yes, I felt sure she loved me, and that she had refused to wed my enemy! I still fretted and fumed at my imprisonment; I longed with a longing beyond words to be free, but this thought was like a beacon light to a shipwrecked sailor. It gave me strength, too. In spite of everything health surged back into my being.
But my release did not come.
The days began to grow very cold, and I asked for afire, but none was given me, and my captivity was hard to bear. I think I should have gone mad but for a Bible that had been given me. I read again and again the Book of Job; especially did my mind rest upon his latter days when the sun shone upon him again.
One day the little man, who had told me to call him Jonathan, came into my cell weeping.
"What ails you, Jonathan?" I said.
"Alas!" was his reply.
"What?" I cried eagerly.
"My little Naomi is dead!" he said.
"Your little Naomi—dead!" I repeated, like one dazed. "What do you mean?"
He started as though he had told me too much.
But I was not to be trifled with. I caught him and held him fast.
"You have made me desperate," I said; "I must know all now. Who told you that she was dead? What do you mean by calling her your Naomi? I must know everything."
"I dare not!" he cried, distractedly—"I dare not, I am afraid."
"Afraid of whom?"
"Richard Tresidder. He will be master of—" He stopped, and then he wept bitterly.
My hands dropped from him, for my strength had gone.
"Tell me," I said—"tell me, Jonathan, all you know."
He kept sobbing, and this made me pity him, but no tears came to my own eyes. My heart became cold and seemed as hard as a stone.
"She did not wed Master Nicholas Tresidder," hesaid; "and—and, oh, God forgive me, but since then she has died."
For a time I could not collect my thoughts, the news seemed to have unhinged my mind, but presently I remembered. I thought of what I had heard Richard Tresidder say, and many wild thoughts came into my mind.
"If she is dead," I said at length, "you can set me free."
"No, no, I—" He got up from the stool on which he had been sitting and left the room. I heard him lock the door behind him, and I had no strength to hinder him. At that moment I cared for nothing.
I have said many times that I am not a man of quick understanding, neither was I ever clever at explaining puzzles. At that time, however, my brain seemed more than ordinarily active, and I saw things with a clearness that I had never seen before. Besides, I was sure that in the past I had been rendered partially incapable by the drugs which had been given me. Anyhow, the sudden shock seemed to have given me greater clearness of vision, so that I was able to comprehend things far more clearly than in the past. Hitherto, with the exception of occasional flashes of light, all had been dull, now I seemed to see the truth plainly. That which had come to me as vague conjectures now appeared as certainties, and in spite of the old man's dread news, I had more hope than in the past. I felt sure there were many things as yet unexplained. With my greater mental activity came also more physical vigour. I felt myself capable of trying to escape. I wondered at myself, Jasper Pennington, being kept so long a prisoner without making any attempt at escaping, and I determined that very day to take some definite steps to obtain my liberty. I therefore ate my dinner eagerly when it wasbrought, for I felt that I should need all my strength, but within half an hour from the time the meal was ended a feeling of torpor again crept over me, and I fell asleep, neither did I wake for several hours. After I awoke some two or three hours passed before my vision was again clear. I saw then that if I were to take any definite action, I must refrain from the food provided for me, and this also placed me in a dilemma, for if I ate no food how could I retain my strength? What was done must be done quickly. Not only had my medicine contained a powerful narcotic, but my food also was drugged.
Consequently I did not partake of my night meal, but instead I feigned illness when it was brought, and afterward thought of many things which I hoped to do.
Presently, by the great silence which prevailed, I concluded that the inhabitants of my prison house had gone to rest, so I got up and tried the door. It was built strongly, but I believed it could be wrenched open if I had something in the shape of a crowbar. I thought of every article in the room, but could fasten on nothing suitable for the purpose, when I remembered the iron bars which had been placed outside the window. I climbed to the little opening in the wall, and opened the window as far as I was able. The cold air came rushing in, giving strength to my resolution. I seized one of the bars, but it did not move. Then I put forth my strength, which had been slowly coming back to me, and in a few minutes had torn it from the wall.
"It will act as a weapon as well as a crowbar," I mused; then I got back to the door and began to try and place the iron between the door and the hinges. I had no light, and so I had to find out the crevice withmy fingers. While trying to do this I gave a start. I was sure I heard a noise under my feet. At first it sounded like footsteps, then I heard a scraping against the floor. I listened intently, and presently I was able to locate the sound. It was just under the bed on which I had been lying.
As quickly as I was able I removed the bed, and then listened again. For a time all was silent, then I heard a sound again, only this time it was different. Three knocks followed each other in quick succession, and I heard the boards vibrate under my feet.
"Is it a friend or enemy, I wonder?" I asked myself, and I grasped the iron bar more firmly.
I heard the boards creak as though something were pressed against them, but I could see nothing. Only a very faint light crept through the window which I had partially opened. Presently the boards began to give way. I knew this by a light which streamed into the room. Then I saw the floor move, and I heard a voice say, "Maaster Jasper."
I knew the voice immediately. There was only one person in the world who could speak in such a tone.
"Eli!" I cried, joyfully.
"Doan't 'ee holla, Maaster Jasper," said Eli, in his hoarse, croaking voice, "but come to once."
"Where?"
"Away from 'ere. Ther's some steps down to the say. Come on."
I needed no second bidding. I knew that Eli was thoroughly trustworthy, and so I lifted the boards, which proved to be a trap-door, and then, putting one foot through, I realised that I stood on a stone step.
"Come after me, Maaster Jasper," said Eli; "maake 'aste, they may come after us."
So I squeezed my body through the trap-doorway, and prepared to follow him.
"Cloase thickey trap, Maaster Jasper," said Eli, and I saw his strange eyes shining in the dim light.
In my eagerness to do this I made the thing drop heavily, and the noise echoed and re-echoed through the building.
"That'll waake 'em up," cried Eli. "Come on, come vast, Maaster Jasper!"
With an agility of which no man would have thought him capable, he hurried down the steps, mumbling fiercely to himself all the time. I soon found that this stairway was very crooked and often small. I imagined then, what I have since found to be true, that the house in which I had been imprisoned had been used as a place of storage for smuggled goods, while the way by which I was trying to escape was a secret way to it.
We had not descended many yards before I heard voices above, while I knew that feet were tramping on the floor of my late prison. Evidently the noise I had made in closing the trap-door had aroused my warders, and they would now do their utmost to capture me.
My senses were now fully alive, and I determined that it should go hard with those who tried to hinder my escape. To my dismay I discovered that I had left my iron bar behind, and that I had no weapons, save my two hands, which had naturally been weakened by my long imprisonment. However, there was no time for despair, so I followed close on Eli's heels, who wriggled his way down the crooked and often difficult descent.
We must have got down perhaps one hundred feet,when, turning a corner, a current of air came up, blowing out Eli's light and leaving us in darkness.
"Can 'ee zee, Maaster Jasper?" cried Eli.
"Just a little. Can you?"
"I cud allays zee in the dark," he grunted, but his statement was not altogether borne out, for his speed was much lessened. Still we managed to get on fairly well, for Eli could see in places which to most people would be impenetrable darkness, and I had been so much accustomed to the dark that I was not altogether helpless.
After all I suppose it is difficult to find perfect darkness. Light is only a relative term, and depends very much on the nature of our eyes. Thus it was that while we could not go nearly so fast as we had been going, we could still with difficulty find our way.
Presently we heard the sound of footsteps, and I knew by their rapid movement that our pursuers would gain upon us. Eagerly we hurried on, and each minute the sound of the footsteps behind us became plainer.
"How much farther, Eli?" I panted.
"A long way yet, and a hard job when we git to the end," he replied.
"How?"
"The mouth of this 'ere addit es fathoms above the say," he replied.
"How did you get here?" then I asked.
"I'll tell 'ee when we git away," he said, impatiently.
Then I chided myself for asking so much, for even these few words must have somewhat lessened our speed.
Meanwhile, the steps came nearer and nearer.
"Stop!" cried Eli, presently.
We stopped suddenly, while we both listened eagerly.
"There be three on 'em," he grunted.
"Yes, or more."
"No, only three—we caan't git away—"
"We must, we will!" I cried.
"Only by fightin' 'em."
"Well, then, we'll fight them," I cried.
"Come on then—there es a big place down 'ere. Furder down tes awful to git along, and we caan't go wi'out a light."
A few seconds later we stood in an open place. It was almost round, and might have been twenty feet across. I saw this by the light which Eli managed to fit as soon as we got there. It took him some few seconds to fit it, however, and by that time our pursuers were upon us.
I saw in a second that two of them looked like serving-men, the third was dressed as a gentleman. I could not see his face, however, but I thought he looked a strong man. To my joy none appeared to be armed. Eli stood by my side, but his head was no higher than my loins. Thus I and the dwarf had to battle with the three. I did not wait a second. I dared not, for my liberty, perhaps my life, were at stake. Besides, I believed, in spite of what I had heard, that Naomi was not dead. Had she been I should have been removed from my prison, if not set at liberty; at least, such was my belief.
Without hesitation, therefore, before a word could be spoken, I struck one of the serving-men a tremendous blow. He staggered against the side of the cave with a thud, and fell like a lump of lead. For a little while at all events we should be two to two, for Eli, insignificant as he seemed, was a formidable opponent, althoughat that time I did not believe him to be a match for a well-grown man.
Encouraged by the success of my blow, I made a leap on the man I took to be a gentleman. My blow was, however, warded off, and I received a stunning blow behind the ear.
Now during the time I had been imprisoned I had, as I have stated, been kept in a half-dazed condition, and although my strength had been slowly coming back to me, I was weak compared with the time when I had been taken a prisoner at Pendennis Castle. My food had been drugged, and my enforced inactivity had made my sinews soft like a woman's. Besides, I felt I had met with a skilled fighter, and I knew by the blow he gave me that he was a strong man. Moreover, I doubted Eli's ability to engage with the other serving-man, and this made me doubtful about the result of our struggle.
All this passed through my mind in a second, but I did not yield, for while the want of hope takes away strength, despair makes men desperate, and I was desperate. Somehow, although I could not tell why, I felt I was fighting for Naomi as well as myself. So, reckless of consequences, I made a second leap on my opponent and caught him by the collar, and then some wrappings which had partially obscured his face fell off, and I saw Nick Tresidder.
He writhed and struggled in my hands, but I held him fast.
"Ah, Nick Tresidder," I cried, "we meet face to face, then. Well, I've got an adder by the throat, and I mean to hold him there."
"Yes," he said, "we meet face to face." Then with a sudden twist he made himself free.
For a second I looked hastily around the cave. A torch was lying on the floor which lit up our strange meeting-place, and near it I saw Eli struggling with the serving-man.
He looked at me scornfully, while I, panting and partially exhausted, tried to harden my sinews for a second attack. I determined to be careful, however. I knew Nick Tresidder of old; I knew he would fight with all the cunning of a serpent, and that he had as many tricks as a monkey, so that, while he would be no match for me had my strength been normal, he would now possibly be my master in my comparative weakness.
He took no notice of Eli, who struggled with the serving-man, but kept his eyes on me.
"You fool, Jasper Pennington," he said. "I had come here to set you free; now you will never leave this place alive."
"Why?" I panted, for want of better words.
"Because you know now who imprisoned you, and if you escaped you would tell it to the world. I dare not let the world know this, so you and Eli will have to die."
I felt sure there was some trick in this, although I could not tell what it was.
"But if I had been set free the world would have known," I replied.
"No, you would have been taken to a far-off spot, and you would never have known where your prison was, nor could you have sworn who imprisoned you."
"But I am going to escape," I said, still keeping my eyes on him, while I could hear Eli grunting as he struggled with the serving-man.
"No," he said, "you are as weak as a baby. Yourstrength even now has gone. You thought bodily strength everything; I, on the other hand, know that brains is more than bodily strength. Do you think I did not know who I was dealing with? You are a fool. Every mouthful of food you have been eating while you have been here has kept you weak. Now you are no match for me. And I am going to kill you! Shall I tell you where you are? You are at Trevose, the house that was Naomi's. Shall I tell you something else?" and he laughed mockingly. "Naomi Penryn loved you—but she's dead; and now Trevose House and lands belong to the Tresidders, do you see?"
Then, I know not how, but a great strength came to me, an unnatural strength. My heart grew cold, but my hands and arms felt like steel. His bitter, mocking words seemed to dry up all the milk of human kindness in my nature. At that moment I ceased to be a man. I was simply an instrument of vengeance. His words gave me a great joy on the one hand, for I knew he would not have told me she loved me, did he not believe it to be true, but this only intensified my feeling of utter despair caused by those terrible words, "But she's dead." I felt sure, too, that she had been persecuted; I knew instinctively of all that she had had to contend with, how they brought argument after argument to persuade her to marry Nick, and how, because she had refused, they had slowly but surely killed her.
And Nick gloated over the fact that Trevose lands belonged to him as though that were the result of good luck rather than as the outcome of systematic cruelty and murder.
I was very calm I remember, but it was an unnatural calm. I looked around me, and Eli was still strugglingwith the serving-man, and to my delight he was slowly mastering him.
"Nick Tresidder," I said, "you and your brood robbed my father, you have robbed me, robbed me of everything I hold dear. I am going to kill you now with these hands."
He laughed scornfully, as though I had spoken vain words; but he knew not that there is a passion which overcomes physical weakness.
"I know it is to be a duel to the death," he laughed, "for I could not afford to allow you to leave here alive."
"God Almighty is tired of you," I said; "He has given me the power to crush the life out of you," and all the time I spoke I felt as though my sinews were like steel bands.
He leapt upon me as quickly as a flash of light, but it did not matter. In a minute I caught him in what the wrestlers call the cross-hitch. I put forth my strength, and his right arm cracked like a rotten stick, but he did not cry out. Then I put my arm around him and slowly crushed the breath out of his body. I think he felt the meaning of my words then.
"Stop, Jasper," he gasped, "she's not dead—she's—"
"What?" I asked.
But he did not speak. I do not think he could. I relaxed my hold, but he lay limp in my arms like a sick child. Never in my life could I hurt an unresisting man, so I let him fall, and he lay like a log of wood. But he was still breathing, and I knew that he would live. But my passion had died away, and so had my strength.
I turned around and I saw that Eli had mastered the serving-man. He had placed his hands around his neck,and had I not pulled the dwarf away the man would have died.
"Eli," I said, picking up the torch, "they will not follow us now. Come."
But Eli did not want to come. He looked at the men we had mastered, and his eyes glared with an unearthly light, and like a lion who has tasted blood he did not seem satisfied.
"An eye for an eye," he said; "tha's what mawther do zay. Iss, an' a tooth for a tooth."
"Lead the way to the sea, Eli," I said, and like a dog he obeyed. Taking the torch from me he crawled down the passage, laughing in a strange guttural way as he went. All the time my mind was resting on Nick Tresidder's words, "She's not dead. She's—" and in spite of myself hope came into my heart again, while a thousand wild thoughts flashed through my mind.
A few minutes later we felt the sea-spray dashing against our faces, while the winds beat furiously upon us. Below us, perhaps twenty feet down, the sea thundered on the rocky cliff.
"What are we to do now, Eli?" I asked.
He looked anxiously around him like one in doubt; then he put his fingers in his mouth, and gave a long piercing whistle.
"Who are you whistling to?"
"He's coming," he answered, looking out over the wild waters.
"Who's coming?"
"The man that told me."
"Who is he?"
"I'll tell 'ee, Maaster Jasper. I've bin 'ere fer days, I have. I was loppin 'round 'cawse I knawed you was 'ere."
"How did you know?"
"I'll tell 'ee as zoon as we git away, Maaster Jasper. Well, as I was loppin' round I zeed a man, he looked oal maazed. He spoked to me, and I spoked to 'ee. Then we got a talkin' 'bout lots o' things. He seemed afraid to meet anybody, but axed scores ov questions. Oal he tould me about hisself was that he was an ould smuggler that used to land cargoes round 'ere. One day I seed a hankerchuff 'angin' from thickey winder, an' I knawed 'twas yours. I was wonderin' 'ow I cud git to 'ee, and I axed the man ef he knawed anything 'bout the 'ouse. After a bit he tould me that there was a sacret passage a-goin' from the cliff to the room where the winder was. Tha's 'ow 'twas. I'll tell 'ee more zoon. There he es, look."
I saw something dark moving on the water, and presently discerned a man in a boat.
Eli whistled again, and the whistle was answered.
"How did you get from the sea up here?" I asked.
"I climbed up, Maaster Jasper, but I can't go down that way."
The boat came nearer.
"Es et saafe to plunge?" shouted Eli.
"Yes," was the reply underneath.
"No rocks?"
"Dive as far out to sea as you can, and you'll go into twenty feet of water."
"All right," shouted Eli, then turning to me, he said, "I'll dive first, Maaster Jasper."
"Can you swim?" I asked.
"Swem!" he sneered; "ed'n my mawther a witch?"
He plunged into the sea, and I heard the splash of his body as it fell into the water, then I saw him get intothe boat, which was rocked to and fro with the great waves.
"All right," I heard a voice from beneath say, "now then!"
I gathered myself together for the dive, and I think my heart failed me. My strength seemed to have entirely left me, and it looked an awful distance between me and the frothy waves beneath. Besides, might I not strike against a rock? Then I think my senses left me, although I am not sure. It seemed as though the sea became calm, and a great silence fell upon everything. After that I heard a voice which seemed like Naomi's.
"Help, Jasper!" it said.
Then all fear, all hesitation left me, and I plunged into the sea beneath. I felt my body cutting the air, then an icy feeling gripped me as I sunk in the waters. When I rose to the surface I saw the boat a few yards from me rising on the crest of a wave.
I could hear nothing, however, save a roar which seemed like ten thousand thunders. I struck out boldly for the boat, but Eli and the other man seemed to mock me with jeering menaces. I struggled hard and long, but the boat seemed to get no nearer, and presently I thought I heard unearthly laughter above the wild roar of the breakers.
"Ha, ha," I thought I heard them saying, "now we've got you; this is Granfer Fraddam's phantom boat, this is. Swim, Jasper Pennington, swim!"
I tried to swim, but my legs seemed to be weighted, while around me floated thousands of hideous jabbering things which I thought tried to lure me on to the rocks.
I looked landward and the house in which I had been imprisoned appeared to shine in a strange ruddy light,until it looked like one of those enchanted houses which one sees in dreams.
Then I thought I heard Naomi's voice again, "Help, Jasper, help!"
But all my struggles seemed of no avail. I fancied I was being carried by the force of the waves farther and farther out to sea, while all the time Eli and the other man beckoned me onward, their boat rising and falling on the bosom of the ever-heaving waters.
Then I felt cold hands grip me, and I was dragged I knew not whither, while everything was engulfed in impenetrable darkness.
The next thing I can remember was a sensation of choking, of trying in vain to get my breath; then a weight seemed to be slowly rolled from me, and I felt myself free.
I opened my eyes and found myself in a cave. At first I thought it was the one in which I had fought with Nick Tresidder, but I soon found myself to be mistaken. I lay upon coarse, dry sand, while close to me a fire burned. Its grateful light and warmth caused a pleasant sensation; then I realised that my wet clothes had been taken from me, and that I was rolled in a warm, dry blanket.
"You be better now, Maaster Jasper, be'ant 'ee, then?" I looked up and saw Eli Fraddam bending over me.
"How did I get here?" I asked, in a dazed kind of way, "and where am I?"
"You be cloase to Bedruthan Steps, an tha's where you be, Maaster Jasper; you be in one of the caaves. 'Tes oal lew and coasy 'ere, and you'll be oal right again. But you've bin as sick as a shag, and as cowld as a coddle."
I tried to call to memory what had passed. Then I said, "But how did I get here, Eli, and how long is it since we came?"
"We brought 'ee 'ere, Maaster Jasper, in the booat, ya knaw. You tumbled in the say, and we was a goodish bit afore we cud git 'ee on boaard. We was feard for a long time that you was dead, but you're oal right now. Yer things 'll zoon be dry, and then you c'n dress up oal spruce and purty."
Slowly my mind became clear; then I remembered the man who had been in the boat while Eli and I had been together in the secret passage.
"Where is the man who helped you with the boat?" I asked.
"Here 'ee es. Come 'ere, maaster."
Then I saw a strange-looking man who, as far as I could judge, might be any age between fifty and seventy. I looked at him steadily for some time. Somehow his face seemed familiar. I could not call to mind where I had seen it, however. He had a long gray beard, while his hair was also long and unkempt. His eyes shone with a wild brilliancy, and he seemed to be always eagerly watching.
"Thank you for helping me," I said; "it was very good of you."
"Was it?" he replied. "Do you really think it was good of me?"
"It was, indeed," I responded. "I wish I could repay you somehow. Some time I hope to have the power."
He looked at me eagerly.
"I'm glad you think it was good of me," he said; "so very glad. Will you tell me something?"
"If I can I will," I replied.
"Do you think it possible that many good deeds—many, many, many—can atone for wild, bad, murderous actions?"
"God takes everything into account," I replied.
"Do you think He does—do you? I'll tell you something," and he drew closer to me. "Years ago—long years ago—oh! so long, so long!—well, say I was a smuggler, a wrecker—oh, what you like! Well, say in self-defence, in passion, in frenzy, I killed a King's officer—do you think God will forgive me? And say, too, that since then I've roamed and roamed, all over the world, always trying to do good deeds, kind deeds—do you think God takes them into account?"
"I'm sure He does," I answered.
"I only wanted to know your opinion," he replied, as though trying to speak carelessly. "Of course I only imagined a case, only imagined it—that's all."
Now this kind of talk set me wondering about the man, and imagining who he might be. Wildly as he looked, strangely as he spoke, curiously as he was dressed, he still spoke like an educated man. I watched him as he continued to cast glances around the cave, and I came to the conclusion that he was mad. I opened my mouth to ask him questions, but the remembrance that Eli might be able to tell me what I wanted to know about the Tresidders restrained me.
"How did you know how to find me?" I asked of Eli. "Tell me everything that happened since I left you that morning."
Eli, who had continued to look at me all the time I had been speaking to the stranger, gave a start as I asked the question.
"Wondered why you did'n come back from Fammuth," he grunted, "so I went and axed 'bout 'ee. Cudden vind out nothin'. Then I beginned to worm around. I vound out that Neck Trezidder 'ad tould the passon not to cry the banns at church. Then I got the new cook at Pennington to come to mawther and 'ave 'er fortin tould; then mawther an' me wormed out oal she knawed 'bout the things up to Pennington."
"What?" I asked, while all the time the strange man seemed to be eagerly devouring Eli's words.
"The Trezidders and the purty maid ev quaruled about you."
"Are you sure?"
"Iss. Neck wanted the purty maid to marry un, and she wudden, and they axed 'er 'bout you, and she wudden tell nothin'."
"How did the new cook know this?"
"She 'arkened at the door."
I did not feel then, neither do I feel now, that I did wrong in trying to find out the actions of the Tresidders even by such means as this. My heart was torn by a great anxiety, and my love for Naomi seemed to grow every hour.
"Well, what then?"
"The cook cudden maake it oal out, but the purty maid axed to go to some plaace called a convent."
"Ah! a convent—yes," I cried, my mind reverting back to the conversation I had heard between Richard Tresidder and his son.
"Well, she went; tha's oal I do knaw 'bout she."
"You are sure?" I asked, eagerly.
Eli hung his head.
"Tell me is that all?" I gasped. "Tell me all you know—everything."
"Poor Jasper, deear Jasper!" crooned Eli, patting my hands. "Eli loves Jasper."
"But tell me everything, Eli."
"You wa'ant go maazed?"
"No."
"Then I heerd she was dead; but I dunnaw. There, do'ant 'ee give way, Maaster Jasper."
For a few seconds I was stunned, but I called to mind Nick's words, and I was comforted; at any rate, there was hope.
"And the rest, Eli?" I asked. "How did you find out where I was?"
"It took me a long time. I went to Kynance, and I 'arkened round Pennington, but I cudden 'eer nothin'. Then wawn day I seed Israel Barnicoat talkin' with Maaster Trezidder, then I beginned to wonder."
"Yes; what then?"
"I tried to pump un, but I cudden."
"Well?"
"Then wawn day I got'n home to mawther's, and we maade un nearly drunk, and then I vound out. He'd bin 'ired by Maaster Trezidder to taake 'ee to Trevawse 'Ouse. Little by little I vound out where it was, then I comed to 'ee."
I did not ask him any more questions. I knew nearly all he could tell me now; besides, the presence of the stranger kept me from entering into further details. My imagination filled up what was not related.
"Eli got summin to tell Maaster Jasper when we git aloane," grunted Eli presently.
The man with whom I had been speaking walked outof the cave, and I could not but think he had been brought up as a gentleman in spite of his wild, unkempt appearance.
"What is it?" I asked. "Where is the convent to which Miss Penryn was taken? Can you tell me that?"
"No, I ca'ant; ted'n 'bout that."
"What then?"
"You reckleck thicky night when you comed 'ome from say—that night when mawther brought out the crock and brandis, and tould yer fortin?"
"Yes."
"And you do mind to that Cap'n Jack and Cap'n Billy Coad comed to 'ee?"
"I remember."
"Well, you eerd 'em axin mawther 'bout the saicret paaper that tould 'em 'bout a treasure?"
"Yes."
"Well"—and Eli put his mouth close to my ear—"I do knaw where thicky paaper es. I've vound un out, an' saved un for Maaster Jasper."
"What do you mean?"
"Eli do love Maaster Jasper"—and again the poor gnome began fondling and caressing my hands—"so Eli have wormed around and around, and ev vound out where et es. Aw, aw, when Cap'n Jack an' Cap'n Billy cudden vind et they ded swear they ded, but Eli do knaw, an' Eli'll give ut to Maaster Jasper, 'ee will, then Maaster Jasper c'n pay 'em oal out. Turn out Maaster Trezidder, my deear, and live at Pennington."
"Tell me more about it, Eli?" I cried.
"Hush, we mus'n tell nobody. Aw, aw!" and again the dwarf laughed gleefully.
"There's no witchcraft, no wizard's charms about the treasure, is there? It wasn't made in hell, was it?"
"No, no; tes oal right. Granfer Fraddam was once a pirut on the 'igh says."
"Yes; I know he was once a pirate on the high seas, but what of that?"
"Well, he got the paaper from another pirut. Some do zay he ded kill un, but that ed'n true. Well, 'ee got et."
"Yes; but if he got a paper telling where the treasure was, why did he not take it away?"
"Well, Granfer cudden raid, fur wawn thing, and fur another, 'ee wos feared."
"Afraid of what?"
"Several things. For wawn thing, he was tould that 'twas onlucky to git a treasure that was got through killin' people; but that wudden stop Granfer, I do knaw."
"Then what was it?"
"Well, Granfer cudden raid the direckshuns, and 'ee cud never maake up his mind to shaw et to anybody that cud. Now, they do zay that when 'ee talked 'bout et 'ee was awful feared. He zed ef 'ee shawed et to anybody they'd kill un. I spoase Granfer was a wisht ould man after 'ee 'ad a accident, and was too ould to live out to say. He repented and turned religious. That was why 'ee ded'n do nothin' but smugglin'. Well, so 'ee did eed away the paper wot 'ee got from the man, and waited till 'ee cud vind somebody to trust. But he cudden vind nobody—nobody toal. Besides, everybody was frad to 'ave anything to do wi' Granfer. People did believe 'ee was a wizard, and 'ad dailins weth thedevil. Mawther do zay that nobody would go out mor'n seven mile out to say weth Granfer."
"And where is this paper?"
"Aw, aw. I vound out I did. Granfer tould mawther, and mawther did tell me. I vound et, and did eed it in another plaace. Aw, aw, you shud a eerd Cap'n Jack and Cap'n Billy swear when they cudden vind et. Aw, aw. But I did love Maaster Jasper, and I'll take 'ee to et, Maaster Jasper, my deear."
All the time Eli was speaking he kept fondling my hands and caressing me, just as a man would caress a maid whom he loves.
"But does your mother know what you have done?"
"No, she doan't. She do believe it have been sperrited away."
"Spirited away; what do you mean?"
"Mawther do knaw. Aw, aw. But she ed'n right this time, and yet she is oal the time."
As I have before mentioned, it was no uncommon thing to hear about hidden treasures along our coast. Indeed, from earliest childhood I have heard of gangs of pirates burying treasures in many of our secret hiding-places; so common were such stories that we had ceased to pay attention to them. Consequently I had given but little attention to the conversation I had heard between Cap'n Jack and Betsey, neither did I attach much value to what Eli had been telling me. If such a treasure existed, and if Granfer Fraddam knew of it, he would have found means to have obtained it. I knew that during Granfer Fraddam's later years he was said to have tried to get religion, and wanted very hard to break away from a compact he made with the evil one in his young days. There were also stories telling howhe pleaded with Betsey to give up all connection with witchcraft, and that because she would not agree to this he died in his secret cave rather than have her near him. But all these were stories to which I, who had had a fair amount of schooling, had paid but little attention.
Besides, at this time I was thinking about the sweet maid that I loved rather than the treasure that Eli spoke about. What were treasures to me if she were dead? What was Pennington, the home of my fathers even, if she had been slowly killed by the Tresidder brood? I asked myself many times what Nick Tresidder had meant by his words; I wondered, too, where the convent was in which she had been placed, and as I wondered my heart was torn with anguish, for all the world was nothing to me without Naomi.
And so for a long time I did not talk to Eli concerning that about which he had spoken. I seemed rather to be eating my heart away, and almost wished that I had died when I had plunged into the sea a few hours before, for what could I do? Where was the convent in which she was placed? How could I get to her? And if I tried, what steps would the Tresidders take to hinder me? From the fact that Nick Tresidder had come to Trevose, would it not suggest that he had come to claim the land as his? And would he not take steps even now to get me out of the way?
These and a hundred other questions I asked myself, until my brain became weary again, and my heart was sick with disappointment, sorrow, and despair.
"Will Maaster Jasper go with poor little Eli?" grunted my companion presently. "I knaw where the paper es, Maaster Jasper. 'Tes covered weth ritin' andfunny lines; but Maaster Jasper es clever, he can vind et out. Spanish money, Maaster Jasper—'eaps and 'eaps ov et. You could buy back Pennington, Maaster Jasper, and pay out the Trezidders—pay 'em out; iss, an' turn 'em out, neck and crop!"
Why is it, I wonder, that the human heart turns so naturally to revenge? In my despair it came to me as a comfort, this thought of driving the Tresidders from Pennington. For the moment I became eager about Eli's story of the treasure, and asked many questions—foolish as the whole business might be—as to what Granfer Fraddam had told his mother, and what she had told him.
After a while I remembered the man who had been our companion, and I sent Eli to try and find him.
When Eli had gone I examined my clothes and found them dry. So I put them on, wondering all the time as to whose they might be, and who had worn them prior to the time the man had given them to me.
No sooner had I finished dressing than Eli and the man came in. I thought the latter looked more calm and self-possessed. He brought some bread, too, and some salted fish. Then for the first time I saw some simple cooking utensils in the cave.
"Have you been living in this cave?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied; "I have been living here for a month. But you are welcome. I want to do good deeds if I may. I want to atone."
"Have you done anything so bad, then," I asked, "else why do you wish to atone?"
He looked at me eagerly for a few seconds; then, without speaking, he put two pans on the fire, first of all filling them with water. After this he placed thefish in one of the pans, and waited while the water boiled.
"What is your name, young man?" he asked presently.
"Jasper Pennington."
"Of Pennington?"
"Yes; what do you know about it?"
"I knew of a family of that name long years ago. Pennington of Pennington. Why are you in this plight?"
"Because I have been robbed of my birthright," I replied, bitterly.
"By whom?"
"The Tresidder family."
"The Tresidder family—ah!" He said this with great bitterness and passion. After a few seconds he grew calm again. "And have you sought to be revenged?"
"I have sought rather to win back my own. But what do you know of the Tresidders?"
"Nothing—oh, nothing, nothing, nothing! What could I, a poor shipwrecked sailor, know about a great family?" This he said hurriedly, almost fearfully, I thought. Presently he continued, "And you have done no rash deeds, Jasper Pennington?"
"No."
"You have not killed any of their men, their women?"
"No; not yet."
"Oh, be careful. Do you know"—and he heaped some driftwood on the fire—"that one moment of madness drives a man to hell? I've been in hell now for—oh, nigh upon twenty years. Hell, Jasper Pennington, aburning hell! Suffer anything, anything rather than—than—oh, it's nothing. I'm only imagining still; but there—" And he became silent again.
In spite of my many doubts and fears I became interested in the man, and I watched him closely.
"Look, Jasper Pennington," he said presently, "anything got through evil, through bloodshed, through murder carries a curse with it. I've had the curse of Cain upon me now for many a year. I have been a wanderer on the face of the earth, but I have kept my eyes open. Everywhere it has been the same. Blood money, hate money, money evilly got, always carries a curse. Don't touch it, don't touch it! It does not burn the hands—oh, but it burns the heart, the soul! Oh, I have seen! I know!"
"But supposing your father had his home stolen from him by lies, treachery, fraud—suppose your father said to you with his dying breath, 'Get back that land; it is yours, it is your birthright, your true possession,' what would you do?"
"Jasper Pennington, there be other birthrights than those of law—there be those of God. There is the birthright of clean, bloodless hands and a pure heart; there is the birthright of an easy conscience, and the power to pray! It is more than money."
"You do not know everything," I said, "or you would speak differently."
"I not know!" he cried; "I not know! My God! my God!"
For a few seconds I thought him mad again, but presently he became calm. "The food is ready," he said; "we will eat of it. I got it from a cottage yonder. After we have eaten you may like to tell me all about yourself.Perchance I could help you; perchance, too, I am not what I seem."
Something about the man charmed me. As I have mentioned, he spoke correctly, and in spite of his strange attire he looked like a gentleman. So when I had eaten I told him my story.
"Is that all?" he said, when I had finished. "There is something else. Your eyes would never shine so at the thought of being robbed of lands."
"Yes, there is more," I cried, for I had not told him of my love; and then—and I wondered at myself as I did so—I told him of my love for Naomi, but only in barest outline. I did not tell her name, I did not speak of her as coming from Trevose, I did not relate how Richard Tresidder hoped through her to gain Trevose.
When I had finished he sat for many minutes looking steadfastly into the fire, while his eyes grew as red as the red coals into which he looked.
"You have not told me all yet, Jasper Pennington," he said; "there is much behind. Why do you think they have ill-treated if not killed the fair maid you love? Why should they seek to put her into the convent? Ay, more, how and by what right were you taken to yon house on the cliffs? Tell me that, Jasper Pennington."
He spoke slowly, but with terrible intensity, and for a moment a feeling which I cannot describe passed through my heart.
"There is something else, Jasper Pennington," he continued. "What is the name of the fair maid you love, and whose child is she?"
On saying this he caught my hand with a hard, tight grasp, and looked eagerly into my eyes.
I know not why, but when the stranger acted in this way he seemed to put a bridle on my tongue. The name of my love was on my lips, but I could not utter it.
"Are you afraid to tell, Jasper Pennington?" he asked, eagerly.
"It is not for you to know," I replied; "besides, she may be dead. I have been told that she—" Then I stopped, for my heart seemed to grow too big for my bosom.
"Died of a broken 'art," mumbled Eli. "The Trezidders killed 'er."
"Tell me more!" cried the stranger, excitedly. Then he added, in calmer tones, "I may be able to help you."
But I did not speak, whereupon he walked to and fro the cave, making all sorts of ejaculations, and at times looking savagely at me, as though I were his enemy.
Presently, however, he grew calm and thoughtful; he seemed to be musing over what I had told him, as though he had an interest in it. This surprised me greatly, and set me thinking who he could be, until plans of action for myself began to form themselves in my brain.
After I had thought awhile I went out of the caveand stood in the bay called Bedruthen Steps. Accustomed as I had been all my life to the sight of a fine rock-bound coast, I could not help being awed at the scene. The great rocks which lift their mighty heads in Kynance Cove were not equal to these. Often while living at Cap'n Jack's house I had wandered along the many-coloured cliffs which stretch from Kynance to the Lizard, and had seen the waves leap on them, sometimes playfully, sometimes in mad anger, while thousands of streamlets ran down their rugged sides afterward, as if to laugh at the anger of the sea; but never had I seen anything so fine, so awe-inspiring as this. For a moment it made me forget the objects dearest to my heart. The tide was not high enough to reach the mouth of the cave at which I stood; at the same time the angry seas rolled madly along the sand, and were churned into foam by the great rocks along the beach. I had heard about rocks standing as sentinels, but never until then did I realise the meaning of the words. That day, however, the meaning of such language was quite plain. The cliffs stood from three to four hundred feet high, almost perpendicular, save here and there where some narrow gully sloped somewhat. These cliffs were dark gray, rough, jagged and forbidding, and seemed to quietly mock the roving, rushing sea which beat upon them.
Along the beach, perhaps a hundred yards or more from the cliffs, a number of huge rocks stood alone. I suppose at some time they must have slipped from the mainland, but that was undoubtedly in the far-back past. One of them, I remember, was shaped like a spire, and seemed to look with derision on the foaming waters that sometimes nearly covered it, and at othersleft it standing ill all its majesty on the white, hard sand.
"Surely," I thought, "God has been lavish of His grandeur here," and even as this came into my mind the relentlessness and the cruelty of the sea impressed me. Everything made me feel my littleness, my impotence. A strong man would be but as a bit of rotten wood if he were thrown into it; those cliffs would beat the life out of him, while the white foam, which looked so soft and inviting, covered that which would smash the sides of a boat as easily as a man snaps a piece of wood across his knee.
A feeling of despair possessed me again, for I was utterly lonely. It is true Eli stood by my side saying loving words and fondling me, while the stranger walked to and fro the cave; but no one felt my grief or understood it. By-and-by, however, my mood began to change; the roaring sea, the gray, leaden sky, the mighty cliffs inspired me, they urged me to action. I must find out the truth about Naomi; ay, I must find her, for, standing there that morning, I could not believe that she was dead.
A few minutes later I had made preparations to leave the cave and go away from the neighbourhood of Bedruthen Steps.
"Where do you go, Jasper Pennington, and what are your plans?" asked the stranger.
"That is a matter which concerns myself," I replied, not very graciously. A moment later, however, I felt I had acted like a cur, for this man had endangered his life to save mine, and but for him I might not have been alive. "Forgive me," I continued; "my mind is much distracted, and I scarcely know what I say."
"Perchance I could help you, if you would trust me," he said.
"I can scarcely trust myself," I replied, "much less a stranger."
"Am I stranger?" he cried, with an hysterical laugh, just as though he were a madman.
"If you are not, who and what are you?" I asked. "What is your name?"
"Name!" he said, wildly. "Esau is my name, my true name."
"Why your true name?"
"Because I have sold my birthright."
"Your birthright! To whom did you sell it?"
"To the devil!" he cried, his eyes glittering. "My birthright was my manhood; it was a clear conscience, it was the power to fearlessly think of the past, and to—" He stopped suddenly, then he went on again: "Perhaps Cain is the truer name, but I know not; call me Esau."
"Yes, he's mad," I said to myself. "I can trust him with nothing—nothing." Still, I humoured him. "You have been very good to me," I said. "Some time, if I live and gain my own, I will repay you."
He came to me again, his eyes still shining brightly, and he looked eagerly into mine, as though, too, he had decided to impart something to me; but a second later an expression of doubt rested on his face. "No," I heard him say; "I must do it myself, and alone, if I can—if I can."
We parted then. I made my way up the side of a sloping place along the cliff, while Eli followed close at my heels. When we reached the grassy headland I looked back, and saw the stranger still standing at themouth of the cave. I looked around me. Not a house of any sort was to be seen; only a rugged, bleak coastline was visible. I saw, however, that some of the land was cultivated, and so I knew that there must be some farmhouses in the near distance.
After walking for about a quarter of an hour we came to a lane, but it was grass-grown, and was evidently but seldom used. I looked around me and espied a gray church tower. This gladdened my heart, for it was pleasant to think of the House of God situated in a bleak, barren countryside. I was about to make my way toward it when I heard the click of a labourer's pick. I jumped on a fence and saw a man hedging.
"What is the name of that church?" I asked.
"St. Eval, sur."
I looked at the man more closely. He looked far more intelligent than the ordinary labourer. "Do you know much about this neighbourhood?" I asked.
"I've lived 'ere oal my life, sur."
"Do you know of any convent in this neighbourhood?"
"Convent, convent?" he repeated, questioningly.
"Yes," I replied; "a place that belongs to the Catholics—a place where priests and nuns live."
He looked at me suspiciously, as though he suspected that I had evil motives in asking such a question. "No, sur," he said presently. Then he gave a start, and I turned and saw that Eli had come to my side. "Is he—is he the devil?" he gasped.
"No; only a dwarf."
"You'm sa big and 'ee sa small, it do seem funny," he laughed, nervously.
"What is the nearest town?" I asked.
"St. Columb, sur."
I made up my mind to go to St. Columb, and was asking the man how far it was, when another thought struck me. "There's a parson at St. Eval, I suppose?"
"Aw, iss, sur; hes 'ouse ed'n fur from the church."
"Is he a man that you like?"
"Aw, iss, sur; everybody do like the passon."
I made my way toward St. Eval, and after half an hour's walking found a church and perhaps a dozen houses. I was not long in finding the vicarage, for it was the only house of importance in the neighbourhood.
Parson Thomas received me very kindly. He was a little man, well fed, and apparently on good terms with every one. I don't think he knew much about religion as Mr. John Wesley taught it, but he was kind-hearted and full of merriment. Moreover, if he neglected people's souls, he did not neglect their bodies. He insisted on giving me refreshments, and although he looked very curiously at Eli, he sent him into the kitchen and gave instructions that he must be looked after.
"I am a bachelor," laughed the jolly vicar. "So much the better all around. I've no one to bother me. I've got my dogs and my horses. At St. Ervan there is a pack of hounds, and I've the best hunter within six parishes. I have a service every Sunday afternoon in the church, and so far we have no Methodists. I've some good wine, good home-brewed ale, and plenty of cider. I rear most of the flesh eaten in the house, and am happy—ha, ha! Now, what can I do for you?"
I asked if he knew of any religious house belonging to the Catholics in the neighbourhood.
"There are a few Catholic families," he said.
"Who are they?"
"Well, there was a Catholic family at Trevose House—an old house built on the cliff not far from Trevose Head. At least, Mrs. Penryn was a Catholic, and the girl was brought up a Catholic. A priest from Padstow used to visit the house."
"Do you know anything about them?" I asked.
"Mrs. Penryn is dead; her husband—well, it's a sad story. Poor fellow, he committed suicide well upon twenty years ago. Everything was left to the daughter. She has gone to the West to stay till she's of age, or married, under the guardianship of a Richard Tresidder. I think I heard something about Tresidder's son marrying Naomi, but I'm not sure."
"Did the priest who visited Trevose belong to any religious community?—I mean, is there a convent or nunnery at Padstow?"
"No. Let me see—oh, yes, I remember now; my friend Page, from Mawgan, was telling me about it. Close to Mawgan Church is the Manor House of Lord Arundell. I daresay you will have heard of it—Lanksome. It is a delightful spot. Well, the Arundell family has always remained Catholic, and were terribly bitter against the Reformation. The present Arundells came into possession about thirty-five or forty years ago, and it is quite a home for priests and Catholics generally. Some of the priests, I believe, visited Trevose from there."
"But it is not a convent or nunnery?"
"Oh, no; not that I am aware of. It is simply the headquarters of the Catholics in this district. I have heard it said that some young Catholic girls, religiously inclined, have been taken there as novitiates, but I doubt its truth; not that the place is not admirablysuited for such a purpose. It is surrounded by a high wall, over which no one can see, and in one of the walls is a secret chamber in which it is said a priest was concealed for eighteen months in the reign of Elizabeth. At present, however, it is not recognised as a convent."[1]
"But it is a Catholic centre?"
"Oh, bless you, yes; the place is full of Catholic priests, nuns from France, and what not. I should not like to say what is done within those walls. That house is full of secrets, and the people who go to Mawgan Church, which is adjoining it, look upon Lanherne as a home of mystery. The servants are silent, the priests are silent, the very atmosphere seems full of secrets."
I did not stay long with Parson Thomas after this, although his hospitality seemed to know no bounds. I had heard enough to set me thinking, and I determined to go to Mawgan that very evening. The time was now three in the afternoon, and soon night would be upon us. Still, there would be another hour of daylight, and I started to walk in the direction of Mawgan Forth, while Eli trudged close by my heels.
We had been walking, perhaps, half an hour, when I saw, as I was passing by a farmhouse close to which the road ran, a woman on horseback. Below us we saw the sands of Mawgan Forth, but no house was near save the farmhouse to which I have referred.
"It is some woman riding home from St. Columb Market, I suppose," I said as her horse climbed the hill.
"No," said Eli; "no, Maaster Jasper. 'Tes Tamsin Triscott, Tamsin Fraddam; that's who et es."
"Tamsin!" I cried; "surely no!"
A few seconds later, however, I saw that Eli was right.
"Master Jasper Pennington!" she cried, as she saw me, and the blood mounted violently to her face. "You are free, then?"
This she said in a tone of disappointment almost amounting to anger.
"Yes, Tamsin," I replied. "What do you know about my imprisonment?"
"I suppose you got him away?" she said to Eli, angrily, without noticing my question.
"Iss," grunted Eli; "I ded, ded'n I, Jasper?" and the dwarf laughed gleefully.
"And I meant to have done it," she said, as if musing to herself. "I have travelled a long way."
"What do you mean, Tamsin?" I asked.
She hesitated a minute, then she spoke like one in pain.
"I did my best, Jasper—believe that. But for me you would have been killed. Israel Barnicoat and others vowed it, but I persuaded father. I heard about your coming back, and I tried to find out where you had been taken. As soon as I knew I started to come. I would have set you free; I would, Jasper, I would."
My slow-thinking mind was trying to find its way to Tamsin's motives for acting thus, when she went on if possible more earnestly than before.
"She didn't care for you, Jasper; if she did, why were you imprisoned in her house?"
"Tamsin," I said, for I began to see her meaning, "do you know what is become of Naomi Penryn?"
"No," she said, sullenly.
"Tamsin," I went on, "I thank you for your goodness to me; I am glad I had a friend willing to travel so far to help me. But I am in great sorrow, Tamsin. I may tell you about it, I know; I love Naomi Penryn—love her like my own life. I have heard strange rumours about her, and my heart is very sad. I can trust you, Tamsin, I know that. Have you heard anything about her?"
She became very pale as I spoke, and I thought she would have fallen from her horse, but she recovered herself presently.
"Israel Barnicoat told me that she would not marry young Tresidder," she replied, "and that she asked to be taken to a convent until she came of age."
"Yes," I said, eagerly, "and what then?"
"I heard that she died there."
"And do you know where the convent is?"
"No; I know nothing! She is dead, that's all."