A LATE VISITOR.
Tregenna was so much taken by surprise by the suddenness of the attack
made upon him by Ann, that he did not realize her intention until he
found himself lying on something which was luckily not very hard, on
the cellar floor, in complete darkness.
He had not had far to fall; for the bales of silk which had been flung
in from above were piled high, and made, moreover, a more comfortable
resting-place than kegs of spirits would have done.
He floundered about in the darkness, with difficulty finding a footing,
and wondered in what spirit Ann had made him thus a prisoner. Was it to
shield him from the attacks of her confederates? Or was it to prevent
his finding an opportunity for escape?
This latter explanation seemed to him the more probable of the two.
The woman was crafty, passionate, not to be trusted; and she had seized
the first chance which presented itself for putting him completely in
her power.
In the meantime, while he recovered from the momentarily stupefying
effects of his fall, he could at first make out nothing of what was
going on in the great kitchen above. A distant murmur, undoubtedly that
of voices did indeed reach his ears; but it was not until he had been
down there for some minutes that he heard heavy footsteps on the tiled
floor above him, and was able to distinguish the voice of Ann, and then
of the newcomer, whom, from his halting gait and from what he could
hear of his voice, he guessed to be Gardener Tom.
Tregenna piled the bales up together, mounted on them, and having thus
brought his head near the level of the floor, listened intently.
The two speakers had by this time come to the hearth, and it was
possible to distinguish most of their words. Tom was displeased with
her reception of himself.
“Well, Ann, ’twas no such easy matter for me to get up the hill to tell
thee, and I reckoned for sure on a word of thanks. ’Tis well to be
prepared when visitors come so late; and, as I tell thee, he’ll be here
in a few minutes.”
“’Tis but the parson, maybe, called out to see some one that’s ill or
dying.”
“Ay, maybe ’tis he, for ’tis a horse that may be his by the look of
him. But it may be the lieutenant, come to see what’s toward; and,
in that case, you’d do well to put those kegs out of sight, and give
warning to the lads to keep close till he’s gone.”
There was a pause. Ann made no answer. By the angry tone in which Tom
presently went on speaking, Tregenna guessed that she had smiled, or
made some gesture which aroused the lover’s suspicions.
“Well, why dost thou not answer me? Art so sure ’tis not the
lieutenant? Hast seen him thyself? Hast——”
“Nay, nay, Tom, are they not all out yonder looking for him?”
“Ay, and maybe thou knowest where he is all the toime! Thou canst not
always be trusted, Ann, e’en by thy own friends. And I’d not trust thee
with a pretty fellow like yon lieutenant. Maybe you got rid of us all
that you moight have it out with him by yourself. Eh, lass, eh?”
And Tregenna could tell, by the sound of moving feet, that Tom was
searching round the room.
Ann, who was standing on the trap-door, laughed easily.
“Jealous, eh, Tom? ’Tis late in the day, with me! First ’tis Ben the
Blast, and now a king’s man! Hast no better opinion of thyself, Tom,
than to think thou wouldst be ousted so easy?”
“Oons, lass, I’ve a better opinion of myself than I have of thee, for
such a thing as constancy! And for being ousted, as thou calls it,
plague on me if I know I was ever in!”
“Come, now, Tom, han’t I always been kind to thee?”
“Ay, when you wanted to get summat from me. Other toimes, I’ve to take
thy kindness turn and turn about with Ben!”
“Fie on you, Tom, fie on you! Get you gone, and learn better manners
than to speak to a woman so!”
She gave him a push in the direction of the door; but Tom was firm.
Lame as he was, he managed to escape her, and came back to the
trap-door over the hearth, where a slight noise, made by Tregenna in
his endeavors to keep his footing on the bales in the dark, had caught
his trained ears.
He stooped quickly, and tried to raise the door. There was the sound of
a scuffle, of a fall, and then Tom growled out—
“Now, by the Lord, Mistress Innocence, I’ve got you! You’ve got some
one in hiding below there, and ’tis the lieutenant, I’ll stake my
loife!”
“And what if ’twere?” retorted Ann, coolly. “Dost think I want a lesson
from thee how to treat folks? Canst not thou trust me to do the best
for us all?”
“Most toimes, yes, Ann. But not where a handsome man’s in the business.
Oh, lass, I know thee! Thou’rt a monstrous foine lass, and I love thee.
But I wouldn’t trust thee with a fresh face too near thine, so ’twere
as handsome a one as the lieutenant’s, d—— him!”
“And canst thou not trust me to know how to shut a man’s mouth, to stop
his ears, to bind his hands?” hissed out Ann, with her lips close to
his ear and her voice low and earnest.
“Oons, no!” shouted Tom, with redoubled anger. “Not where thy fancy’s
caught, as I do believe ’tis caught now! I believe thou wouldst let us
all hang for him, while thy fancy lasted, and kill thyself for spite
and grief afterward. That’s what I think of thee, Ann Price, and oons!
to save thee from that grief, and to save all our necks, I’m going to
tell the rest of the lads who thy visitor is!”
“You would dare!”
But before the words were well out of her mouth, Gardener Tom, with a
fierce oath, had flung down a heavy wooden chair to impede her steps,
and swung out of the house at a gait which, considering his lameness,
was a rapid one.
Ann dashed into the porch after him, but stopped short with a cry on
finding herself face to face with a tall figure enveloped in a long,
hooded riding-cloak.
“Miss Joan!” cried she, in amazement.
Joan, who was standing at the entrance of the porch, with her horse’s
bridle on her arm, held out her hand; but she sighed as she did so, for
she knew well the meaning of the attire Ann was wearing.
“I like not to see you in that dress, Ann,” said she. “’Tis bad enough
for the men to be at these tricks; but ’tis worse in a woman!”
“You be grown mighty moral, Miss Joan!”
“Let me come in,” said her visitor, shortly. “I have something to say
to you.”
And as she spoke, Joan made fast the horse’s bridle to an iron staple
in the wall of the porch, and entered the great kitchen.
“You have no one here?” she asked, as she glanced around the big room,
and peered into the dim corners where the kegs were piled high.
“You see I have no one, Miss Joan,” answered Ann, in a somewhat
constrained tone. “But you had better hasten, if you would not meet
some of our rough folks; they’ll be in here ere long.”
“I know,” said Joan. And she turned abruptly to meet Ann’s eyes, with a
face full of anxiety. “They’re outside, searching the neighborhood on
all sides; and I can conjecture for whom they search.”
Ann looked down on the floor.
“Come, Ann, I can trust you to tell me what I would fain know,” went on
Joan, quickly. “Lieutenant Tregenna—know you aught of him? He said he
should come hither, by your invitation.”
“Ay, and you were so anxious to know what I should do with him, that
you sent a lad, Will Bramley, to be on the watch against his coming!
Bill, that they call ‘Plunder,’ did find the lad, and learnt his
errand, ere he let him go back to you.”
“’Tis true. I sent Will to see that he came to no harm. Even as I would
not suffer the lieutenant to do harm to you or to poor Tom, for your
mother’s sake and for the sake of Tom’s kindness when I was a child; so
would not I have you do harm to him, since I know him for a brave man,
and one that but does his duty in pursuing you and your kindred.”
“And ’tis for him you have taken this journey, by yourself, on a night
like this? Sure, Miss Joan, the lieutenant would feel flattered did he
but know.”
“I would do as much for any man, were it a matter of life or death, as
I do truly think ’tis in this case!” said Joan with spirit.
“Ay, ’twill be death to him if he meets with Ben, or with Tom, either!”
said Ann, mockingly.
“Tom! Oh, Tom would do him no harm if he did but know how much I care!”
burst out Joan, with sudden passion.
There was a second’s pause; and then Ann put her hands to her hips, and
laughed long and loudly—
“Ho—ho! How much you care! You have confessed, Miss Joan, you have
confessed! To be sure you would not be so eager if the lieutenant were
pockmarked, and of the age of your father!”
Her tone was so offensive that Joan, who was accustomed to be treated
by her with deference and respect, was not only hurt but astonished.
“I understand you not, Ann,” said she at last, with dignity.
“Nay, Miss Joan, I should have thought ’twas as easy for you to
understand me, as ’tis for me to understand you. This young king’s
man, being a pretty fellow, has taken your fancy, ’tis easy to see!
Oh, blush not, Miss Joan: ’tis a common complaint you suffer from. The
young ladies at Hurst Court feel, I warrant me, much as you do yourself
on this matter.”
Joan’s answer was given modestly, but with some dignity.
“If I blush at your words, Ann, ’tis because of the tone in which you
utter them,” she said, in a low voice, but so distinctly that every
word reached Tregenna’s ears, as, indeed, they reached his heart also.
“’Tis no shame to have a liking for a brave man: and if all the world
has the same, there is the less reason for my concealing it.”
“Well, ’tis a pity your kindness for him hath brought you so far,
alone, and by night,” said Ann, dryly. “For ’tis a bad road you have
to traverse on your way back, and none the safer for the rough fellows
that are abroad, and that will be by this scarce sober enough to tell
the parson’s daughter from a farm wench on her way back from market.”
“I can take care of myself, Ann, I thank you,” answered Joan, coldly;
“so you will but give me your word that Lieutenant Tregenna is not here
to your knowledge, I’ll return at once.”
There was a moment’s pause. Tregenna, who heard the question, waited
with interest for the answer. Ann gave it in solemn tones.
“He is not here.”
“’Tis well, then. I’ll return.” She took a step towards the door, and
then stopped. There was a sudden change to wistfulness in her tone
which touched Tregenna to the quick when he heard her next words, “Ann,
should he be brought hither: should your kinsmen find him and bring him
to you, as I know they would do, you’ll—you’ll spare him, you’ll do him
no hurt, for my sake, Ann, for the sake of what I have done for you?”
Again there was a pause. Then Ann answered, with a mocking laugh—
“Oh, he shall not be treated worse than his deserts, I’ll warrant you!”
There was a bitterness in her tone which appalled both her hearers.
Joan stepped hurriedly back into the room, and cried, in a ringing
voice—
“Then, troth, Ann, I will not leave this roof till your friends have
come back!”
“You had better go, Miss Joan,” retorted Ann, dryly. “My mates, and
specially after a raid, are no companions for a gentlewoman.”
“Nor are they to be trusted in their treatment of a gentleman. So,
faith, Ann, I will stay till I learn what has become of Lieutenant
Tregenna.”
The girls’ unseen hearer could contain himself no longer. He had at
first thought that it would be safer for Joan to return to her home in
ignorance of his presence in the farmhouse. But on hearing her express
this brave resolution, he felt that there was nothing for it but to
make his presence known to her. He, therefore, dealt three sounding
blows on the trap-door above his head with one of his pistols. The
weight of the door was so great, especially as Ann was still standing
on it, that it did not move. But the noise he made arrested Joan’s
attention, and aroused her suspicion.
“What’s that?” she cried, as she came nearer to Ann.
The blows were repeated, and then Tregenna’s voice, muffled but
recognizable, reached her ears:
“Lift up this door, Mistress Ann. Let me out, or I’ll put a bullet
through it.”
And as he spoke, he succeeded in raising the trap-door a couple of
inches, and in thrusting the muzzle of his pistol through the aperture.
Ann with a muttered oath, raised the trap-door, and flung it back upon
the settle.
“Out with you, then!” cried she, defiantly, as she planted herself a
foot or so away from the chasm thus made, and stared down upon him
sullenly. “Out with you, and off with you! And may the devil catch your
heels!”
Thus adjured, Tregenna proceeded to pile up the bales of silk in order
to reach the level of the kitchen floor. Joan, who was very white, and
who had never uttered a sound since hearing his voice, came forward to
help him.
As she held out her firm white hand, he grasped it in his with a warm,
strong pressure, which brought the red blood back to her face. The next
moment they were standing side by side, and face to face with Ann,
whose gray eyes flashed in diabolical anger as she looked at them.
Only for a moment. Recovering herself quickly, so that they might
almost have fancied that the evil expression they had seen on her
features was the effect of fancy only, she closed the trap-door, and
threw herself on the nearest settle, with a loud burst of laughter.
“Well done, well done, both of you!” cried she, as she clapped her
hands in boisterous applause. “Sure, ’twas as fine a comedy as ever was
played up in London before the quality, to see Miss Joan’s face when
she heard your voice, Lieutenant.”
While she laughed, Joan in her turn was slowly recovering her
self-possession.
“’Tis well, Ann, that it went not so far as to become tragedy rather
than comedy,” she said, as she glanced hurriedly towards the door. Then
pointing towards it with a hand that was scarcely steady, she said
to Tregenna, “I beg, sir, you will mount my horse, that is waiting
outside, and make the best of your way back to your vessel. Nay, fear
not to leave me here. They’ll not harm me, as Ann will tell you.”
“Miss Joan,” replied Tregenna, in a shaking voice, as he looked into
her noble face with eyes in which his admiration and gratitude glowed
like fire, “I’d not leave you in this nest of rascaldom if I were to be
torn in pieces for disobeying you.”
“You do not understand. I am safe here: you are not,” replied she, in a
low voice, which scarcely reached the listening ears of Ann.
“It may be so, but I’ll not risk it. I’ll not leave this house without
you.”
“Leave it with me, then,” said Joan, making up her mind with
promptitude. “You shall mount my horse, and I’ll ride behind.” And
turning quickly to Ann, “Good night,” said she somewhat coldly.
But she got no answer. Ann was watching them both with no very friendly
eyes. Sitting on the edge of the great table, and looking again to the
life the dare-devil buccaneer, as she tossed her short hair, threw back
her head, and swung one foot with great energy, she waved one hand
impatiently, as if to speed the departure of the lieutenant and Joan,
but uttered no word of farewell.
Then Tregenna tried. Going back a step he held out his hand.
“Come, Mistress Ann,” said he, “I’ll not credit that you would have
done me a hurt, here in your own house, however fierce a foe you might
be in a hand-to-hand conflict outside. Let us part friends here, even
if we meet as antagonists hereafter.”
For answer Ann put down her hands, one on each side of her, grasping
the edge of the table; and tilted herself backwards, laughing
maliciously in his face.
“My friendship is of no account to you, sir,” said she, very slowly,
in a low, deep, and full voice, “at present. You shall have it, maybe
later.”
And she turned her head disdainfully in the direction of Joan, who was
by this time in the doorway, and signified to him by a haughty bend of
the head that he had better follow the young lady.
Tregenna bowed and accepted the suggestion.
A minute later he was on the back of the parson’s bay horse, with Joan
behind him, holding on by the belt round his waist.