Marion, fully2 recovered, was strangely quiet. Her anger at the method of her aunt's cure had soon worn itself out. The knowledge that the prisoner was almost within hail absorbed all her thoughts, and she was secretly thankful to find that the day which had passed so idly had not only spared her the ordeal3 of an explanation to her aunt, but had brought great gain in the way of restored mental and physical strength. Forgetting all that lay behind, she now drove her whole energies forward in one channel.
The morning had passed in speculations4 indoors and a drive round the Castle and the town, during which the horses had, strangely enough, halted to rest near the gates of the gaol5. While Mistress Keziah's coachman had exchanged friendly remarks on the health of the inmates6 with the sentry7 peering through the wicket, Marion's eyes had taken in the exact height of the prison wall, its character, its distance from the eastward8 bounds of her aunt's garden across the way.
'No need to stay here, Tom,' sharply called Mistress Keziah a minute later, and the coachman had driven on, remarking on the increasing ill-temper and contrariness of his mistress. Had she not called a halt just there? As if the horses needed resting, forsooth! Down the road that bordered the gaol the coach had gone, passing Mistress Keziah's own gate and thence into the town. Marion had thus a first-hand knowledge of the respective positions of the two buildings. During the drive in the streets she had remained silent. On the homeward way she turned to her aunt.
'Have you a long rope or cord in the house, Aunt Keziah?'
'Plenty, I should think, my dear. I will find out. The chief trouble, you know, is the servants' curiosity. Mercifully, yonder London men, Reuben and Tony, are completely turning the heads of the kitchen wenches. There is no fear of their having an idle hour to watch your movements. My greatest difficulty is Alison, who spends quite half her time above-stairs, and Josiah, who is her shadow when she descends9.'
'Has she not a mother or a father, Madame?' inquired Simone.
Mistress Keziah made no reply. But afterwards when Alison was arranging her gown for dinner, Mistress Keziah said with her usual abruptness10: 'You are looking pale, Alison. I think 'tis well you should take a rest. The day is fine. The walk will be pleasant. Get you to your home and stay there a week. Yonder Simone will manage my hair and gowns, I trow.' Then, when Alison's face had darkened in jealousy11, the old lady had added indifferently, 'Unless, of course, you too are held by the company and amusement of the men in the kitchen.'
Alison tossed her head. The goad12 to her pride served its purpose. She said no more, but soon after dinner she set out on the five-mile walk to her father's farm, escorted by Josiah, who was carrying her small bundles and had been given a hint by his mistress that if he truly loved the comely13 Alison, here was a chance of prospering14 his suit.
The old lady sat for a long time thinking, alone in her room. The two girls, she knew, were at the little window, hoping for a sight of Roger. Mistress Keziah's face was stern and fixed15. During the conversation of the morning she had judged it best to withhold16 two facts from the knowledge of her guests. The first was her discovery that her old friend the governor of the castle was still away in the north country, where he had gone to visit the governor of York. The deputy-governor was a man whom Mistress Keziah held in open dislike because of his truckling politics when Jeffreys was in the West. (As Marion had said, she made rare enemies.) There was therefore no chance of an appeal. She knew of no other quarter whence any influence could be brought to bear on the doings of Jeffreys' men.
Her first thought had been to seek the governor and pray for time; not knowing whether he was returned or not she had refrained from visiting the castle, but had sought the house of a friend overnight through whose rooms as in a living stream poured all the news of the county. Once the governor's compliance17 won, she had determined18 to send her fastest rider to Lady Fairfax in order to seek a royal pardon, if, indeed, her sister had not already taken that course.
With the discovery that the governor was away, the old lady's solitary19 hope had fallen. She could not think of any possible means by which, in less than three days, the fortress20 could be won. When it came to the moment, prison bars and walls were mightily21 inaccessible22: it was only in Biblical days that the stones fell down.
On any other save a question of time she could have won the day. But Exeter was three days' ride—two in an extremity—from London. And while Royal Pardons were being sought, yonder courier, fresh from his audience with Jeffreys, was bringing back the word of doom23. Of Jeffreys' clemency24 Mistress Keziah had not the slightest hope. She remembered too vividly25 that red Assize in Exeter. She also knew the deputy-governor well enough to surmise26 that 'twas not in hopes of mercy he had sent the courier, but rather to show in what faithful stewardship27 the affairs of Devon reposed28. Roger Trevannion was no ordinary prisoner: a very long feather in the cap of justice.
The second item that she had sorrowfully withheld29 had also been learned in her friend's house. Admiral Penrock had been seen, two days previously30, riding in his coach at a gallop31, London bound. Another futile32 errand. She knew from Marion that her father had been much abroad in the far west on magisterial33 affairs. Evidently the news of Roger's arrest had at last reached him. He had posted off to London and would arrive in the presence of the Lord Chancellor34, Mistress Keziah estimated, about a day after the courier had left for Exeter.
With these sad thoughts for company, Mistress Keziah had spent most of the night. Secretly convinced that the quest was hopeless, she had nevertheless humoured her niece to the utmost, taking her where she would, sending her servants out of the way so that no hint of Marion's strange doings should become common to the household. And now she sat, slowly gathering35 her strength for the ordeal of the day after to-morrow, when Marion, pale, sweet Marion, with her childhood's loyalty37 and unavowed, growing woman's-feelings would find herself beaten down, helpless, broken-hearted.
There was still a great store of fighting strength in the old woman, and when she pondered on the comings and goings, Marion and Simone here, her brother urging his horses to London, her sister—the more she thought the more she was sure—using every ounce of power and influence to obtain a Royal Pardon, and all one day—two days—too late, she knotted her thin hands together in fury at her own helplessness. When she thought of Marion, hot tears scorched38 her eyelids39. When she thought of Roger, she buried her face in her hands and prayed. In the hour of death, and in the Day of Judgement...
Meanwhile Marion and Simone crouched by the window. There was just room inside the tiny casement40 for the two, unseen from without, to watch the door that led into the gaol yard, Marion to the front, Simone peering over her shoulder.
'What are you going to do, Mademoiselle?' queried41 Simone.
'I do not in the least know. But I have a feeling that when the hour comes I shall do something.'
Simone said nothing. The revelation of Marion's quiet strength was nothing new to her. She prepared herself to serve in whatever way might lie in her power. But Simone's eyes were shrewd, and she had read the expression in Mistress Keziah's face as she watched Marion's eyes counting the yards and feet outside the gaol. She knew that in her inmost heart Mistress Keziah had no hope. But she had said 'Yes, my dear,' her grim face unusually gentle, when Marion had asked for a rope; 'Yes, my dear,' when Marion had asked was there a well-ground file handy, and perhaps a ladder to be left carelessly in the garden: 'Yes, my dear.' Everything that Marion wanted in the way of properties and personal help would be hers until the hopeless game was played out. Simone saw it all very plainly.
What was going on behind that calm, pale face whose cheek, softly curving, was so near her own?
As Simone, sorely cramped42, was moving her limbs, Marion suddenly cried, 'They come!' Simone craned forward. In the quiet afternoon rose a sound of shuffling43 feet and voices. Out into the sunshine lurched a number of men.
Marion caught her breath painfully as she looked at them. They were rough, ill-clad, foul-featured. There was evidently some quarrel among them, for they settled in a group, their voices rising. One held his fists clenched44. But where? Ah! Marion's sudden movement told Simone who was yonder tall, broad-shouldered youth who strolled idly out to the yard. He leaned against the prison wall and looked up at the sky, across at the trees of Mistress Keziah's garden. In a flash Marion saw her opportunity. No other face was turned her way. She thrust her head out of the tiny window. The sunlight, falling over the eaves, made a halo of the shining, gold hair. Roger's eyes caught the glow. He started perceptibly. For a second he stared up; his eyes held hers. Then Marion withdrew, and Roger turned and walked away.
Marion's breath came and went. She sank back on the floor.
'He saw me!' she panted. 'Has any one noted45 his glance? Look, quickly.'
'No one has turned this way. He walks up and down. He does not glance up at all.'
'Let me come.' Marion crouched forward again, her trembling hand resting on Simone's. That sight of Roger, his face so pale, his eyes sunk under the brows, had almost unnerved her. Tears blinded her vision as she looked down at her old playmate pacing the prison yard. The last time she had seen him, he had been arguing with her, in his old masterful way, on the folly46 of her going to London; had made her promise to send to him should she need help. And now!
The sound of angry voices rose again in the quiet air. The prisoners were still quarrelling. Inside an eager ring a couple of men set on each other, watched on the one hand by Roger, idle, aloof47, and on the other by the gaolers, greedy of bloodshed. While the fists were flying, Roger allowed himself one more glance at the little casement, taking in its position in a lingering sweeping48 look at the sky. A hoarse49 chuckle50 came from the shadow in the buttressed51 wall. 'Thinking of heaven already, my lad?'
Marion shuddered52.
'Don't listen,' urged Simone. 'Don't look. Come away, Mademoiselle. He has seen you. You have gained your end.'
Marion shook her head. For a seemingly endless time the two crouched by the window, watching the fight in the gaol yard.
'His window must be visible from here,' presently said Marion. 'See there, just behind, where there is another cluster of chimneys close to the back of the building. There cannot be cells on that side.'
'Except dark cells,' assented53 Simone. 'And those would be for murderers. Ah! they are going in.'
The two were silent as the gaolers drove in their charges. Roger did not turn his head, much less venture a look.
'You watch the south side and I the west,' said Marion. 'He will wait for one second when the sentry is not looking, and will let us know. He must realise we are here to help.'
The minutes idled by. Neither stirred. Marion sick at heart, was beginning to think of condemned54 cells, when Simone gave a cry.
'I saw it! His hand for one second through the bars! There is the window, Mademoiselle, the third from the end, the south side.'
As she spoke55 both Marion and Simone uncurled themselves from their cramped position and sat side by side on the floor. Simone winced56 as her aching muscles asserted themselves, but she soon scrambled57 to her feet. 'We have been here for hours, Mademoiselle. I am still afraid of the curiosity of the servants.'
Unseen, the two regained58 the gallery. Marion sank in a chair by the window of her room, her brows knitted, deep in thought. Presently she raised her head...
'It is simple enough,' she whispered. 'He just needs a file and a rope. With two of those bars gone, and a rope, he could let himself down to the ground. That rough boundary wall he could easily climb. What can we do? Oh, what can we do?'
'If we had any friends in the gaoler's house,' said Simone after a time, 'we might send in something—a pie, a dumpling with the file inside. But to arrange that takes a long time and much management. Still, if you think it worth while, Mademoiselle, I will disguise myself as a cook. I will seek the gaoler and—win his regard,' finished Simone.
'Then I should lose you both. No—such a plot—I had already thought of it in the coach on the way—as you said, needs a network of conspiracy59. It would involve the kitchen here, and my aunt. It needs knowledge of the interior of the prison, of the particular kind of character of the gaoler. An ordinary gaoler would eat the pie himself. No, the risk that is run must be mine. Above all, my aunt must not suffer. It looks so simple,' Marion added desperately60, 'just to get that file and rope into his cell.'
'That is the trouble with most prisons,' said Simone na?vely.
Marion did not hear her. Her head had fallen on her hand again. An hour passed by. The girl seemed to be turned to stone. Just as Simone, busy with her needle, was about to break the oppressive silence, Marion raised her head. There was a strange look in her face, as if she were greeting some one unknown at a distance.
'Don't speak to me,' she said. 'I think—I think I have found a way.' She drew a long breath. The wide grey eyes resting on Simone slowly came back to the measure of the room. 'Yes.' She rose. 'Get my cloak and hood36, Simone. I must ask my aunt if we may walk down into the town.'
Marion had barely finished her sentence before Mistress Keziah herself opened the door. She heard in silence Marion's request.
'Had you not better drive?' she said, after a minute's thought.
'I think not, Aunt Keziah. A person can go unnoticed where a coach cannot. And there is not time to explain just now. Do not, I pray you, Aunt Keziah, deny me this hour's liberty.'
'My dear child,' said the old woman, her voice breaking, 'I have but one wish, and that is to help you.'
Marion looked at the speaker. In her hardly suppressed eagerness and excitement, her hands on her cloak, she had scarcely noted her. Now she saw traces of tears. Her arms went suddenly round her aunt's neck in a mute embrace. Then she withdrew herself with a gesture Simone understood. There was no time for weeping.
Mistress Keziah sat down. 'Listen. I can't let you go alone. You must take old Zacchary. He is the most to be trusted, the least inclined to chatter61. Ring the bell, Simone—better still, go down and fetch him: say I wish to speak to him.'
'I did want to keep Zacchary out of the way of any possible suspicion, now or later, Aunt Keziah. He is an old man.'
'We are all either old or young,' remarked Mistress Keziah drily.
As Marion tied on her hood Zacchary appeared at the door. His wrinkled face lighted up at the sight of his 'little maid.'
'Come here, Zacchary,' said Mistress Keziah.
The old groom62 stepped awkwardly forward. He was always at a loss what to do with his feet, save in the stable yard or on the box. His fingers tugged63 at his hair.
'Mistress Marion and Simone wish to take a walk in the town, Zacchary. You are to follow them close behind. If they enter any house or shop, wait.'
Zacchary nodded.
'There is no need to say anything in the kitchen, Zacchary,' said Marion.
Zacchary pulled his hat from under his arm.
'Her told me' (with a look at Simone), ''twas to go down along. There hain't no call to go to the kitchen. Here a be.'
'You understand, Zacchary, that should you at any time be questioned as to the doings of your mistress while in Exeter, you know nothing.'
'A don't be knowing in any case, Mistress.'
'Continue not to know. Otherwise there will be danger for Mistress Marion.'
Zacchary thought hard as he followed his young charges into the town. Something was amiss. He realised, looking back, that something had been amiss, all the way down from London. But in the meantime, he had his orders.
With Simone at her side, looking neither to the right nor to the left where passers-by were concerned, Marion went over the town on a search which greatly excited Simone's curiosity. She saw that in one shop her mistress bought a hank of the finest grey embroidery64 silk. Before another shop she paused, bidding Simone wait with Zacchary. Simone looked curiously65 at the sign, which showed that a gunsmith and armourer carried on his trade there. Marion came out empty-handed. The end of her search was evidently not yet.
''Tis getting late, Mistress,' said Zacchary, his eye on the sun, as she joined the waiting pair.
A fleeting66 look of horror passed over Marion's face, and she turned aside from old Zacchary's vision. At that moment a man lounged by, his gait marked by the obvious roll of the sailor. Marion glanced idly at him. Then she swung round and looked again, a puzzled expression in her eyes. What was there familiar about that face and figure?
Zacchary's eyes were also on the retreating sailor. He noted his mistress's glance, but said nothing. Like herself, he was musing67 on the vague likeness68 to some one he knew very well. Marion and Simone walked on, followed by Zacchary. Suddenly the old man stopped in his walk, and turning, looked at the feet of the man just making the corner of the street. His old eyes gleamed.
'May a be everlastingly69 goshwoggled!' he exclaimed. He quickened his pace, and joining Marion, said something in her ear.
'Are you sure?' asked Marion incredulously.
'Sarten sure, Mistress. Couldn't mistake they feet nowhere. A allus said Poole'd escape again. Good for little maid Charity, bless her heart!'
Marion glanced quickly round. 'Gently, Zacchary,' she said. 'Don't take any notice of me, if I think of speaking to him.'
Zacchary fell back, his face sombre; the world seemed very much awry70.
In the meantime, Marion's wits were hard at work. She was walking slowly on.
'Now I think I want to buy a yard of ribbon I had forgotten, for my aunt's lavender cap. Did you not see how the ribbon was worn, Simone?'
Simone made a slight moue. 'As you like, Mademoiselle.'
The haberdasher's shop was at the extreme end of the street down which, Marion had noted, the sailor had gone. Making a detour71, she entered the street from another direction, timing72 her arrival at the door so that the clumsy figure rolled by just after she had bidden Simone enter the shop. Zacchary stood a few paces away, chewing a straw, his eyes in the opposite direction. Marion followed the sailor a couple of yards.
'Jack73!'
The man stopped and turned, a smile lighting74 up his features as he recognised the speaker. Marion looked affectionately up into the face of the sailor-boy of her childhood's days. The rough beard he had assumed for a disguise changed him greatly. But the merry eyes were the same. Marion went straight to the point.
'This is a great danger for you, Jack.'
Poole nodded. 'I couldn't stay down along, or sail, or anything, with Master Roger in gaol, Mistress Marion.'
'I guessed it. We must not be seen talking. Listen. He shall escape. I need help at the other end. You can do nothing here. Bob Tregarthen is lying in the Catt Water. Take a boat down there, and persuade him to sail down to Garth and wait off the headland. Tell him to be prepared for a voyage; ready to sail at a minute's notice, night or day. You understand?'
Jack hesitated. 'I'd a sight rather bide75 along o' you, Mistress. How be you going to manage the escape? 'Tis over dangerous for a maid.'
'Never mind me. I have my plans. But don't you see, Jack, you are an added danger? They are sure to trace you here. When did you escape from Bodmin?'
'Three days ago. And when I heard from Charity what was doing, I couldn't sail, I couldn't. Let me bide and help 'ee, Mistress!'
Marion reconsidered the position. She shook her head. 'No,' she repeated, 'you make an added danger. And I need your help at the other end. Go now, Jack. I'm so afraid you may be recognised. Give my dear love to Charity. And Jack—have a care. Yonder renegade may be on the watch.'
'I know all about he,' said Jack. 'I only ask just to set eyes on un.'
'Then good-bye, Jack. And—and God bless you.'
'God bless ee kindly76, Mistress Marion,' came Poole's husky tones, as he turned away.
Marion glanced hastily along the street. Only a few men lounged at the other end, outside a small inn, and these, she saw to her infinite relief, had been joined by Zacchary, and were looking at something in the distance, something Zacchary was pointing out. 'Dear old Zacchary!' commented Marion. 'He has his wits about him.'
She entered the shop. Simone was arguing on the subject of the colour of ribbons with the shopkeeper and his assistant, who were fully absorbed in the conversation, to the exclusion77 of any affairs in the street.
'Here comes my mistress,' said Simone. 'I was saying, Mademoiselle, that no lady could wear a ribbon of such a vile78 texture79 as that, and the colour of this is too garish80. What do you think, Mademoiselle?'
Gravely Marion went into the subject of the silk, and finally bought a couple of yards and went out. She turned straight up the hill towards her aunt's house.
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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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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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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descends
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| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
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abruptness
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| n. 突然，唐突 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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goad
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| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
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comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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prospering
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的现在分词 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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withhold
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| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
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compliance
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| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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clemency
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| n.温和，仁慈，宽厚 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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stewardship
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| n. n. 管理工作；管事人的职位及职责 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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magisterial
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| adj.威风的，有权威的；adv.威严地 | |
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chancellor
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| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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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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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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51
buttressed
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| v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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53
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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55
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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58
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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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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63
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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67
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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68
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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69
everlastingly
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| 永久地，持久地 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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71
detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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73
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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74
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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75
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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76
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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exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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