"Now we must ride quick," said the maid.
"How! what use will it be?" I asked almost angrily. "Clement1's horse will be as good as either of yours."
"Iss, but his hoss is drunk!" laughed Amelia.
"Drunk?" I cried.
"Iss, drunk. When I zeed you go into the kitchen, and tried to git into a row weth Maaster Clement, I minded a trick I once seed at Endellion Church town. So I tould the chap that took your 'osses to draw me a gallon of beer. He axed me questions 'bout2 et, but I knawed 'ow to git over 'ee."
"And did the horse drink it?"
"Drink et! I shud think he ded. He wos thusty and sooped up every drap. Aw I shud like to see un now;" and the maid laughed again.
[Pg 211]
In spite of everything I joined her. It was purely3 a village girl's trick, and well carried out. A thirsty horse will drink a quantity of beer, and generally a few minutes after becomes light-headed and unable to walk straight.
"You are a clever girl, Amelia," I said again, "and you are right in saying we must ride quickly. Clement will find out the trick, and will follow us on foot."
"We've got the wind in our back," she replied, "zo ef we git a mile or so ahead, the sound of our 'osses wa'ant reach he."
So we rode hard until we came to Summercourt. Here there were several branch roads, and so far as I could see no one was stirring. Even although Clement followed on foot, he would have great difficulty in finding which way we had gone.
"Which way shall we go?" I asked of Mistress Nancy.
"Do you think it will be safe for us to go to Polperro?" she asked hesitatingly.
"I think so," I replied, although my heart was sore at saying this. "These Killigrews will know your whereabouts, and as a consequence there will be no watchers at Polperro."
"And you will take me there safely?—that is," she continued, as though she were correcting herself, "you think you can?"
"Oh yes, I can," I replied; "and I will take you whither you will."
"Then perhaps we had better go there—I know of no other place."
[Pg 212]
She spoke4 plaintively5, and as I thought hesitatingly. I longed to offer her a home at Trevanion, but I dared not.
"It is well," I replied, as cheerfully as I could; "there is just another matter we may as well settle, however. Shall we ride there on our horses, or shall we go by water?"
"What do you mean?" she asked anxiously.
"Polperro's house is close to the sea, is it not?" I asked.
"Yes—that is, I believe so."
"Well, if we were to ride to Veryan Bay, we could get a boat and sail from there."
"And is that a better way?"
"You shall decide, if you please," was my reply. "From here to Veryan is, perchance, twelve miles. I do not imagine that the Killigrews would suspect us of going there; so even if Clement should try and follow us with another horse, I do not think he would take that course. He would rather imagine that we should make for Polperro by road."
She was silent for a few seconds, then she told Amelia to ride behind us out of earshot. At this my heart fluttered wildly, for I thought she had something of importance to say to me. For a few minutes we rode side by side without either speaking a word. The moon had risen high in the heavens, and many of the clouds had passed away, so I could see her every feature plainly.
"Do you wonder," she said presently, "that, in spite of the vow7 you took some time ago, I cannot feel as friendly towards you as I would."
[Pg 213]
"No," I replied almost sullenly9.
"Perhaps you know that my liberty, my happiness, my fortune, the whole future of my life is at stake."
"Yes."
"It is only a few months since I returned from a convent school in France. My father, I suppose, was a rich man; and I have heard vaguely10 that I legally inherit a large property when I am twenty-one. That time will soon come now. That is why the Killigrews are anxious to marry me at once. All I have would then become theirs. I have heard, too, that my property is strictly11 entailed12. But I have been told nothing definite; it would seem as though all have been in a league to keep the truth from me. Ever since I returned from school I have been practically a prisoner. But I am determined13 to be free!"
"You shall be free if it is in my power to make it possible," I replied.
She gave a sharp, searching look, and then went on.
"I am, as you see, entirely14 dependent on you."
I was silent.
"As far as I know there is but one man in whom I can trust. He—he has asked me to be his wife. He does not know that I have taken this step." She said this in a constrained15, hesitating way, as though she were afraid to utter the words.
"Do you wish to be John Polperro's wife?" I stammered16 awkwardly. "That is, would you under ordinary circumstances choose him for your husband? Is he to you the man above all others?"
[Pg 214]
"You are a stranger to me," she went on, as though I had not spoken. "Until that night when you climbed to the housetop at Endellion I had never seen you, never heard of you. I have no claim on you save the claim that any gentlewoman who is in trouble has upon a man of honour."
"Be that as it may," I replied, "all I have and am are at your service. I will take you whither you will." This I said, I am afraid, with a sigh, for I realized that after I had taken her to Polperro my work would be done. I must leave her, perchance never to see her again.
"I may trust you fully6 then?"
"Fully."
"Then," she said, and her voice became hard and unsympathetic, I thought, "will you tell me why you came to Endellion? why you tried to deceive me the first time you spoke to me? why you did not answer me frankly17 when we were together with that old man on Roche Rock?"
Her questions came quickly, and I saw by the way she grasped the bridle18 rein19 that she was much wrought20 upon. In a second I realized what they meant. I saw that the moment I told her the truth, even although she might perforce trust me to take her to Polperro, all possibility of respect for me would be gone. She would think of me as one who for gain would have betrayed a woman's confidence, one who was the tool of men who had bought me for a price. I had given up all idea of taking her to Treviscoe, but the fact that I had consented to such a bargain must stamp me in her eyes as a knave21. I tried to open[Pg 215] my mouth to speak, but for the moment I could not, and I sat staring into vacancy22 as though I were a born fool.
"Forgive me," she said coldly, "I will not trouble you to answer me. I have no right to know your secrets or your plans. You have promised to take me to Polperro, and your name is Trevanion; I will trust to one bearing your name to do as you have promised. I am sorry to trouble you, but I am obliged to take advantage of a gentlewoman's claim on a gentleman, and to ask you to take me to the house of my only friend."
My heart was heavy, for I saw what her words implied. She would regard me with less respect than she might regard a paid guide. Although she had said she would trust me, her heart would doubt me all the time. I knew by the tones of her voice that when the time of our parting came she would be glad. She had given me a chance of proving myself an honourable23 man, and I had been unable to take advantage of it. Therefore, although by all laws of chivalry24 I was bound to serve her, she would accept that service no longer than she absolutely needed me. Aye, she would loathe25 my presence and my service, even although she could not do without them.
This I knew was what my silence meant to her, but what would an explanation mean? The truth would be perhaps worse than the suspicion. Never did I despise myself as I did then, and I felt as though I dared not tell her the truth. But this was only for a second. Despise me though[Pg 216] she must, I would tell her the whole story. I had at least repented26; whatever my motives27 had been in the past, they were pure now.
"Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said, "I will answer the questions you have asked."
"No, no," she interrupted. "I have no right to know. I was wrong in asking. Your secret life can be nothing to me."
"I must answer your questions nevertheless," I replied. "And you have a right to know something of the man in whom you trust so much. I shall probably lose what little confidence you have in me, and certainly all your respect, but still I must tell you."
She protested again, in chilling, indifferent tones, but I heeded28 her not.
"You said just now that I was a Trevanion," I said; "well, you spoke truly, I am a Trevanion." Then sparing myself in no degree, I told her the plain facts as I have told them here. It was painful to me, painful as pulling out my eyes, but I felt I would rather she should know all than that she trust me blindfolded29, while all the time she hated to be obliged to speak to me. During the time I was speaking she made no response. Our horses walked slowly on (for by this time I imagined we were entirely away from the Killigrews), and so she heard every word I uttered. Sometimes I looked at her face, but it revealed nothing to me. It was as motionless as the face of a statue.
"That is all," I said when I had finished; "but believe me in this at least: I did not fully realize[Pg 217] what my premise30 meant, and you cannot think worse of my conduct than I think myself. I know it was unworthy, but it shall not turn out to your ill. If it is in the power of man, I will take you to the place to which you would go."
"Shall we ride faster?" she said presently.
"Yes," I replied, "but which way? Will you go by road or water?"
"If we go to Veryan, we pass Tresillian, I think you said?"
"I do not remember saying so, but it is true."
"Then we will go that way."
For the next few miles we rode rapidly, neither speaking a word, but presently she slackened her horse's pace.
"How far is Tresillian from here?" she asked.
"About one mile."
"Thank you for being so frank," she said after a few seconds of silence.
"I know it must be unpleasant for me to be near you," I said bitterly; "but believe me, I will trouble you no longer than I can help."
"When you have taken me to my destination, what will you do?"
"I shall start for London."
"Why?"
"There can be nothing left for me in Cornwall. I shall join the King's standard, and honourably31 seek my way to fortune."
"You will lose your home, the home of your fathers?"
"It must be."
"You say that—that man gave you money."
[Pg 218]
"Yes, but he will be amply recouped. All the same, I shall send him the amount as soon as I have earned it."
"What kind of man is he? And what kind of man is—is his son?"
Again I did not spare myself, indeed I took a sort of savage32 delight in describing the two men I had promised to serve.
"And if you had taken me to Treviscoe, you would claim the deeds. You would have fulfilled your obligations to them, and the old homestead would be yours?"
"Forgive me," I cried, "I did not know I could have become so base," and indeed at that moment I felt unworthy to ride by her side.
"Can you think of Trevisa's purpose in wanting to get me there?" she asked, without seeming to notice my words.
"I think I told you," I replied bitterly.
"Yes, but he told you nothing of the means by which he hoped to carry out his purpose?"
"No, it was nothing to me. I was desperate, mad. Besides I thought not of that, and I—I loved adventure."
"But you give me your sacred promise that you will take me wherever I desire to go?"
"You know I do. I despise myself. Believe me, I am not at heart a base villain33, and I am anxious to prove to you how bitterly I repent—what I bargained to do. I long to break my miserable34 promise; nay35, I shall be glad to bear the consequences of failing to redeem36 my pledge to him. I—I will do anything, suffer anything to carry[Pg 219] out your purposes." This I said hesitatingly, because it came to me that I was betraying the love for her which was burning in my heart.
"You mean, then, that you will take me wherever I ask you?"
"Yes, yes!" I said eagerly.
"Then take me to Treviscoe, to the home of these—these Trevisas."
I started back aghast. "No, no!" I cried.
"But you have promised me, promised me on your honour."
"But—but you do not understand."
"I understand perfectly37."
"They are both miserable, sensual wretches39."
"You told me that a little while ago. But please take me there."
"I am sure they have sinister40, evil purposes in wishing to get you there."
"Most likely, nevertheless I rely on your promises."
"They will do their utmost to get you into their power. They have no conscience, no sense of honour."
"I should judge not. But I will go."
I looked into her face. Her eyes shone like live coals, her face was as pale as death, but I could see she was resolute41.
"Very well," I said with a sigh. "I will do as you command me."
It was now midnight, and we were within two miles of Truro.
"It is well on to twenty miles from here to Trevisa's place," I said, "and the roads are bad. To[Pg 220] say the least, it is a three hours' journey. There is a good inn at Truro, and I think you would be safe there. Which will you do—stay at Truro, or ride direct to Trevisa's?"
She hesitated a few seconds, then she decided42 to stay at Truro. I was glad of this, because I knew she must be very weary. Half an hour later our horses were in a comfortable stable, while Mistress Nancy Molesworth sat at the same table with me in one of the best inns in the county.
"You still wish me to take you to Treviscoe?" I said after we had partaken of refreshment43.
"Yes. Good-night."
When I reached my room I pondered long over the events of the day, and wondered much at the maid Nancy's behaviour, but could not divine her motives. I determined to take her to Peter Trevisa as she had commanded, but I was strong in my resolve to watch over her as jealously as a young mother watches over her first-born child.
It was past midday when I awoke, and so I hurriedly dressed, wondering what the woman I had learnt to love would think of me, but when I went down-stairs I discovered that she had not yet risen. I went to the stables and examined the horses. They were well fed and groomed44, and as far as I could gather, no one had been there making inquiries45 concerning us. This put me at my ease, and when presently Mistress Nancy appeared, I assured her of her safety.
About an hour before dark we left Truro, and during our ride she asked me many questions, the[Pg 221] meaning of which I could not understand. One thing she insisted on, for which in my heart I thanked her. It was that we should take my attorney, Mr. Hendy, with us to Treviscoe, for I knew that Peter Trevisa had a great terror of the law. Accordingly we called at the old lawyer's house, and asked him to accompany us. He seemed much surprised at seeing us, and the more was his astonishment46 when he discovered that Mistress Nancy went to Treviscoe against my will, for this he soon discovered. He said but little, however, and rode quietly with us like a man in a dream.
"What do you wish me to say to these men, Mistress Molesworth?" I said to her, when Treviscoe appeared in sight.
"Nothing," she replied absently.
"Nothing!"
"No. That is, say just what you would have said if you had carried out the purpose with which you started out."
Her words pierced me like a dagger-thrust, but I said nothing. A few minutes later we came up to the hall door.
Was Mr. Trevisa at home?
"Yes," the servant replied; "old Mr. Trevisa is, but not young Mr. Peter."
At this I was glad, but on looking at the maid Nancy's face I saw that she seemed perfectly indifferent. All the same she held tightly by her serving-maid's arm.
Old Peter seemed overjoyed at our appearance.
[Pg 222]
"What, Roger, lad!" he cried; "welcome, welcome! I see you've brought a guest for us too. Ah, she is doubly, trebly welcome. You've come for a long stay, I trust, Mistress Molesworth. Ah, but you must be tired; I will order refreshments47. Here, Pollizock, you knave, take refreshments into the dining-hall without delay. I am sorry my Peter is away, but he will be back to-morrow. I have many things I want to speak to you about, Mistress Molesworth. You will not desire much company to-night, and doubtless both Roger and my friend Hendy will want to be jogging as soon as they've had a bite. Mary Tolgarrick will have many knick-knacks, such as ladies need, won't you, eh, Mary?"
"Thank you," replied the maid, her face still set and stern, "but I bought all that I need in Truro to-day; my maid Amelia will bring them to me."
"It is well," sniggered old Peter. "Be at home, my lady. Ah, I wish my Peter were here! He is always witty48 and gay. But he is away in your interest, Mistress Molesworth; he will have many things to tell you—many things he hath discovered. But my son Peter is wise, very wise."
The ladies went out of the room, leaving Lawyer Hendy and myself with old Peter.
"Ah, Roger lad," cried the old man, "you are a man. Smart and clever. You have saved Trevanion for yourself. When my Peter comes back we will settle the matter legally. Did you have much trouble, my lad? Ah, you must have played a deep game with the Killigrews."
[Pg 223]
I did not reply. I could not. I was too much ashamed. To think that I had planned to bring a well-born maid into such company, to remember that forever the woman I loved must think of me as doing this, was to fill my cup of degradation49 and misery50.
And yet she had come here of her own free will—aye, she had insisted on coming after I had told her all. This I could not understand.
"Have the Killigrews any idea where you have taken their ward8, Roger Trevanion?" asked old Peter presently.
"No."
"No? That is well. Tell me about it, lad?"
"I cannot to-night; I am not in the humour."
"Still surly, Roger? Ha, I know you hate to have aught to do with women. But you will be paid. You have brought her here as you said, and you shall be well paid, well paid."
My arms ached to throttle51 the old wretch38. I longed to place my hands around his skinny neck and choke him, but I did nothing. Then old Peter began talking to Lawyer Hendy, and I fell to wondering what the end of the business was to be. That the maid Nancy would fall in with old Peter's plans, I could not believe; and yet she evidently intended to stay there. Would she desire me to be near as her protector? What were her purposes? But the maid's mind was a sealed book to me.
Presently she appeared again, her face still set, and her eyes burning with the light of purpose. Old Peter led the way into the dining-hall, and[Pg 224] although I could not eat, I took my seat at the table.
"We shall not need you," said old Peter to the servants; "leave us. We can talk more freely now," he whined52, turning towards us. "Is there anything I can do for you, Mistress Molesworth?"
"Yes," she replied steadily53; "I wish you to fulfil your obligations to Master Roger Trevanion, and give him the deeds of his estates."
"When my son Peter comes home everything shall be settled, my dear lady."
"They can be settled now, can they not?"
"It will be difficult. I do not suppose our friend Hendy hath the papers at hand."
"Yes, I have them here," replied the lawyer.
At this I knew not what to say. My mind was torn with conflicting thoughts.
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1
clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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4
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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5
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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6
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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7
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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8
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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9
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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11
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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12
entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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13
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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14
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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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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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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loathe
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| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
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repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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28
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
blindfolded
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| v.（尤指用布）挡住（某人）的视线( blindfold的过去式 )；蒙住（某人）的眼睛；使不理解；蒙骗 | |
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30
premise
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| n.前提；v.提论，预述 | |
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honourably
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| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
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32
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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38
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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40
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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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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43
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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44
groomed
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| v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的过去式和过去分词 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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45
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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46
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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47
refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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48
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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49
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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50
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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51
throttle
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| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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52
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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53
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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