It happened that on the afternoon of the third day Charity Borlase set out from her mother's cottage and made her way towards the harbour. Ever since her sweetheart Poole had been carried off to Bodmin gaol2 again, Charity had found her daily life very difficult to bear. There were plenty of other fisher lads minded to console her, their offers backed by her mother's patronage3; but Charity was not a person who could easily change her affections. She kept as much as possible out of sight of the quay4 with its chaffing, gossiping groups. But there were times when indoor life seemed to be unbearable5, and on those occasions she would take her restless unhappiness for company, and seeking the edge of the sea try to find the comfort there that was denied her in her home.
Although the mist was thick, Charity was seaman6 enough to know that it would soon be lifting, and taking her cloak she went quietly down towards the village. Then, acting7 on an idle fancy, she turned to her brother's boat that was moored8 close to the cottage, and began to row herself across the water to Polrennan, the little group of cottages that faced the more important village of Garth.
As she sculled the boat across, bearing upstream a little against the eddying9 tide, the fisher girl's eyes wandered up the estuary10. In the mist she fancied she saw farther up the narrowing creek11, on the Polrennanside, a slight figure wrapped in a hood12 and cloak, walking rapidly towards the river mouth. Standing13 in the stern, working her oar14 easily, Charity peered through the mist which was already rising and falling a little in the slight easterly breeze. Again came the glimpse of the shrouded15 figure, more easily seen this time, and the watcher nodded grimly as she recognised the trotting16 gait. She made a swift calculation; realised that if she drove her boat in straight to the shore she would run into the arms, so to speak, of the lonely walker. Charity quietly slipped down to the thwart17, took a second oar, and noiselessly rowed upstream. She preferred to land higher up and be at liberty to watch unseen. That so far she herself was unseen she was fairly confident. Only some one as far-sighted as a sailor and, moreover, bred to the half-lights of the sea mists, could have descried18 her little boat from the farther bank.
As Charity rowed on, her face wore a scornful expression that gave way to a firm intentness of purpose. Although more educated than many of her class, curiosity and superstition19 had a large place in her mind. But more than curiosity impelled20 Charity to the course she now took. No one could live in Garth and not know the stories that ran to and fro concerning 'Mademoiselle,' who was disliked partly for her nationality and partly for herself. Charity, loyal and devoted21 to the Admiral and to her beloved Mistress Marion, and a degree or two removed from her kind, was perhaps the only woman in the village who had refused to share the gossip of the quay. But since the hurried departure of Victoire, for whom the fisher girl had a kind of superstitious22 dislike, even Charity had thought a good deal of the inmates23 of the house over the brow of the hill.
Victoire herself had told Mrs. Borlase, who was occasionally pressed into service in times of domestic stress at Garth House, that her old mother in Brittany had been suddenly found very ailing24 (all this with Victoire's handkerchief to her eyes); and Victoire, seized with contrition25 on realising that she had not seen her parent for ten years or so, had obtained permission from that kindest of all gentlemen, Monsieur the Admiral, to seek the couch of the sufferer and comfort her declining hours.
'I should think,' said Charity, when her mother had told this sad story, ''tis more likely than not the old lady have some gold under her bed.'
'Shame, Charity!' cried her mother (she was eating a piece of pie fresh from Victoire's hands). 'Do 'ee go and pray for a kinder heart.'
'How's her going across?' asked Charity.
'Why, there's her uncle yonder to Plymouth who sent her word, awaiting for un. A French sailor un be.'
'Queer they let un land,' mused26 Charity.
'And how so shouldn't un? And bearing a letter for the Admiral himself? A black heart you'm getting, my maid, and a black life you'll have. A'd have more pride nor letting yonder wastrel27 down to Bodmin lie in my thoughts, and honest men like——'
'Now, Mother,' said Charity, her eyes blazing, 'will 'ee be quiet now, Mother? No word of that will I hear.'
All this, and more, reverted28 to Charity's mind as she rowed up the stream, keeping her eye on the blurred29 figure every now and then revealed in the mist. At a little shingly30 beach she sprang ashore31 and moored her boat unseen.
If there was anything in the tales of the valley, Mademoiselle Elise would bear over the shoulder of the hill at the river mouth, out of sight, as she evidently thought, among the bushes, and drop into a gully a couple of miles to the east.
Just what she did in 'Haunted Cove32' no one rightly knew, though folk failed not to hint. It was a foul33 spot, only fit for landing a boat in quiet weather. There were superstitious tales abroad concerning that creek, and although curious fishermen had watched a strange boat, in the fitful moonlight, make for the rocky mouth, and others had seen the French girl, or her woman, creep into the cove, nothing would tempt34 them into its wrack-strewn caverns36. 'The devil had made his bed there,' they said, 'and 'twas best shunned37.' As for Elise, only the love and duty they bore for the Admiral had kept them from denouncing her as a person not untouched by the dark powers. For those were days when anything the unlettered country folk failed to understand was put down to witchcraft38 or sorcery.
Charity set herself another course than that taken by the French girl, a hard road, only possible for strong limbs and a stout40 heart. She knew that with good fortune she would arrive at a furze-grown bank hard over the creek before Elise could have reached it from her own side.
Only when her journey was well afoot did Charity realise that she was acting against all the superstitions42 of Garth. But having set herself to it, she went on. Moreover, Charity could read and write; and it happened that her little Bible was in her pocket.
'I bean't afeared,' she said stoutly43 to herself, fingering the holy book. 'Once and for all I'll be knowing. For Mistress Marion's sake 'tis only right some one should be sure.'
Kind-hearted Jack44 had given her the little Bible, and talked of the day when they would stand together before the parson; and Charity, thus drawn45 to remembering happier days, became sorrowful again, and forgot for the moment the object of her walk.
She climbed the hill, and crossing a little copse of gnarled oaks, made for a gap in the hedge that gave on to the main riding track leading from the heights beyond down to Polrennan beach. She was scarcely through the gap before she heard the 'tlot-tlot' of a horse. The rider seemed to be making inland, climbing the slope from the waterside. Fearful of she knew not what, Charity shrank back into the hedge and would have regained46 the shelter of the wood; but it was too late. Horse and rider loomed47 up in the mist and a ringing voice hailed her.
'Charity! Is that you, Charity?'
'Why, Master Roger,' cried Charity, the colour flushing her face in the relief she felt. 'Good afternoon to you, sir.'
Any one else would have replied, in the custom of the village folk: 'Where be gooin'?' And for a moment Charity's heart was in her mouth. Then she remembered that to ask such direct questions was not the way of the quality.
''Tis rising, I think,' said Roger, idly noting the girl's confusion, and setting it down in his chivalrous48 way to maidenly49 shyness. 'And time, too, after three days.'
'Wind's to the east, sir,' replied the girl. 'I thought to-day her'd rise.'
Having dealt with the weather, Roger turned to personal affairs. 'How are you getting on, Charity?' he asked kindly50, keeping his horse at a walk.
Not since Marion's departure had any sympathy been meted51 out to the forlorn girl, and tears rose to her eyes. 'Why, sir,' she stammered52, 'so well as may be.'
Noting her downcast look, Roger beat about in his mind for something to say. His dark eyes rested very gently on the bowed head, but no words came to his aid.
'Well,' he said abruptly53, gathering54 his reins,' I must be off. I'm going across to Farmer Penrose, who declares he has got some straying cattle of mine. Good day to you, Charity.'
The girl dropped a curtsey in silence as the horse moved on. Then with a sudden movement Roger wheeled round.
'Keep a cheerful heart, if you can,' he said abruptly. 'There's still a great hope that the lad will be freed. The Admiral is using all his influence with the Governor yonder.' And without waiting for a reply Roger turned and broke into a canter. 'Poor little maid!' he mused. ''Tis hard fortune for her.'
He rode on, keeping to the track, and presently, as the way opened out on to the rough headland, he cast a longing55 eye towards the Channel. A golden light was breaking through the mist. Somewhere beyond that haze56 the afternoon was bright and sunny, the sea rocking the boats in her tranquil57 embrace. Roger never allowed a chance of riding by the sea to escape him; but after a minute's thought he decided58 to bear on in his present course and return by the edge of the cliffs when the mist would in all probability be cleared away. To ride round the head of 'Haunted Cove'—he smiled at the words—in a mist, was to endanger the safe-going of his horse and perhaps his own life. More than one rash horseman, riding by night close in over the cliffs, had fallen foul of the boulders59 and overgrown chasms60 of the gully mouth, and paid with his life the price of his folly61.
Meanwhile Charity kept on her way. Somewhere round the shoulder of the hill the French girl was bearing towards her mysterious journey's end. Charity set herself to the stiff climb with all good will, and succeeded in reaching the head of the creek, and completely hiding herself among the furze bushes that overgrew it, before the slight figure came round the corner of the headland.
Wrapped in her cloak Charity lay motionless on her rough couch. The shrubs62, dense63 with moisture, freely besprinkled her, but she paid no heed64. Presently the French girl came in sight. Charity smiled at her gait, so unlike the swinging tread of the country-born. When the tired-looking walker was for a few minutes hidden from sight behind an outstanding group of rocks that barred her view, Charity took the occasion to bend well over the dangerous declivity65 and look searchingly into the creek below. What she saw made her hastily reconsider her position.
She was too far away up there; she wanted to be able to hear as well as see, and, as she did not understand French, not until this moment had Charity thought hearing would have been of any avail. But that man sitting down there on a rock gazing out to sea was no Frenchman. Not a dozen miles away had he been born, and born with a crookedness67 of mind that had spoilt the lives of others as well as his own. He had betrayed his fellow smugglers to authority once too often, and been hounded from the parish, with a rope's end for a prize if ever he returned. Folk said he had gone to the Islands, and there continued his fast-and-loose game between the French and the English.
For all her sense of horror at the idea of Admiral Penrock's ward1 having dealings with such a person, Charity could but pay the man a tribute for his courage in seeking the cove. Then, working out the price his bravery must mean to the young lady now coming to the creek, Charity frowned and shook her head again. Much, much gold must have been offered that renegade to enter the neighbourhood of Garth; and why?
The man down there, watching alternately the headland path and the sea, now revealing shining lines in the mist, was unaware68 of the figure creeping from bush to bush down the cliff with the skill of one who had often had nothing but seagulls' eggs between herself and hunger. He rose as Elise stepped on to the shingly beach, and together the two passed to the mouth of the outer cavern35. On a ledge69 just above that mouth crouched70 Charity Borlase. The sound of the voices rose clearly to her ears.
An hour passed. Elise, her face wearing the migraine look Marion would have understood, was pale and harassed71 as at last she rose and handed to the man a bag that jingled72 in his fingers. The last of their words as they stepped down to the beach just failed to reach the ears of Charity. She strained lower to catch the sound, and one branch of the bush she was holding snapped and fell.
The speakers looked up in a startled way, and Charity, forgetting for the moment her screen of bushes, feared she was undone73. Holding her breath, she watched the eyes searching the cliff. To her relief, they went beyond her perch74 and rested. The two down there stood rooted to the spot. Charity, in growing wonder, twisted herself noiselessly round and discovered, standing on the rocks at the top of the creek, riding-crop in hand, Roger Trevannion. Charity was as securely hidden from his sight as from that of the others. She waited in a frightened apprehension75. But Roger said no word. With a grim sort of smile he lifted his hat to Mademoiselle Elise and strode away.
Charity peered down again. The man was looking at his companion with a sullen76, craven air, not without a gleam of malicious77 triumph; here was an added danger which meant more gold. But the look of fury and hatred78 on the girl's face made honest Charity's heart grow chill. She heard the words: 'He shall pay for this!' followed by others beyond her ken39.
Five minutes afterwards Elise turned homewards. Not until the sailor had launched his boat, and hugging the land closely, sailed out of sight, did Charity rise, stiff and cramped79, and climb the headland again.
That night she sat up long in her little attic80 room, and to the tune41 of the snores of her mother and brothers she wrote the longest letter it had ever fallen to her lot to indite81. The task was a burden compared with which the climbing of the cliffs had been a baby's play. The dawn crept into her windows as she finished it, and not thinking it worth while then to sleep, she stole downstairs, kindled82 the fire, set the kettle on the crook66 and crept out of the cottage. She was going to test the loyalty83 of old Peter up at Garth House, to post her letter to Mistress Marion herself, and swear on her little Bible that he would say a word to none.
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1
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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7
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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8
moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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eddying
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| 涡流，涡流的形成 | |
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estuary
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| n.河口，江口 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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17
thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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descried
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| adj.被注意到的，被发现的，被看到的 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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24
ailing
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| v.生病 | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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wastrel
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| n.浪费者；废物 | |
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reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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29
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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shingly
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| adj.小石子多的 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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33
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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34
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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witchcraft
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| n.魔法，巫术 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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42
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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43
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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44
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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45
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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46
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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47
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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48
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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49
maidenly
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| adj. 像处女的, 谨慎的, 稳静的 | |
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50
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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51
meted
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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54
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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55
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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56
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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57
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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59
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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61
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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63
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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64
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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declivity
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| n.下坡，倾斜面 | |
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66
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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67
crookedness
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| [医]弯曲 | |
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68
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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69
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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70
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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72
jingled
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| 喝醉的 | |
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73
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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74
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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75
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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76
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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77
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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78
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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79
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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80
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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81
indite
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| v.写（文章，信等）创作 | |
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82
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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83
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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