TELLS OF MY FORTUNES IN WINNING BACK MY BIRTHRIGHT, AND FINISHES THE
TALE
"She ed'n killed," was his first greeting. "She'll get better." Then I
remembered that he had come from Kynance Cove, and spoke of Tamsin
Truscott.
"I did ride vast," he grunted again presently, but I spoke not.
"What's the matter?" he continued presently. "Tell poor little Eli; he
do love Jasper."
So while we walked to his mother's cottage I told him all that had been
said at Pennington. I told it in more fulness than I have related it
here, for it was then fresh in my memory. The dwarf chuckled much as
though he vastly enjoyed the cleverness of the Tresidders, but he made
no remark for a long time after I had finished my story; then he said
quietly:
"We must watch thicky maazed man, Jasper."
"Why?" I asked.
"To zee no 'arm do come to un. Iss, and we must keep our peepers oppen
fur the purty maid, too. Watch night and day."
"You think they are in danger?" I said.
"They Tresidders be slippery," he grunted.
"But how can we watch?"
"Little Eli will zee to that. Fust thing in the morning you must go to
Lawyer Trefy into Turo, and tell 'im everything. And I must watch--iss,
as I will, too. Little Eli ed'n a vool."
Presently we came to Betsy Fraddam's cottage, and the old dame welcomed
her son warmly, but she said little to me, although she prepared food
for me. For a long time I sat quietly in the chimney corner, and watched
the flames leap upward and tried to think of my position. By and by,
however, nature asserted herself, and, in spite of my anxiety, I felt
myself going to sleep. So I lay down on the couch which Eli prepared for
me, and slept long and soundly. The next day I walked to Truro, and told
my story to Lawyer Trefy, but he gave me little or no satisfaction,
neither would he give me his opinion concerning the behaviour of Naomi's
father. He asked many questions--keen, searching questions, such as only
a lawyer can ask, but he left me entirely in the dark concerning his own
thoughts. And so I came back to St. Eve, having made no step forward;
and only one piece of advice did Lawyer Trefy give me, and that was to
go to a tailor and get some new clothes, also to a barber and let him
dress my hair. This I did, and, in spite of the dreariness of my
prospect, I must confess I was pleased at the change made in my
appearance; for youth, I suppose, always loves finery; and thus,
although I could see no meaning in his advice, I was glad the lawyer had
given it.
The next day I tried to get admission into Pennington House, but in this
I was unsuccessful. The servant told me I could not be admitted,
although I thought he spoke respectfully to me. This fact I attributed
to my fine attire. As for Eli, he was constantly watching the house,
and although I asked him many questions concerning his investigations,
he was silent as the Sphinx, neither would he communicate to me his
thoughts. Indeed, at this time I began to doubt the loyalty of Eli. He
knew that my heart was almost breaking with disappointment, and yet he
was cheerful and gay. He did not sympathise with me in my sorrows,
neither did he speak one helpful word.
Altogether at this time my condition was deplorable. My love was cut off
from me, and my sky was black from horizon to horizon.
This went on for several days, and then I found that Naomi's father had
made his home at Pennington, and that he had been visited by lawyers and
others interested in the Trevose Estate. I learnt, too, that no
objections whatever had been raised as to his assuming the
proprietorship, and that all legal forms had been satisfactorily
complied with. And yet neither he nor Naomi sent me one word of cheer;
nay, they did not even recognise my existence, which, it must be
admitted, was hard to bear. Then, as if to add another drop to the
filled goblet of my sorrow, I one day met the Pennington carriage, in
which was seated Richard Tresidder and Nick, together with John Penryn
and my love, but none of them noticed me; nay, not even Naomi gave me as
much as a nod. This, as may be imagined, made my prospects darker than
ever, for I felt that my love's father had taken the Tresidders' part
against me.
And yet I could not drive away from my heart the feeling that my love
loved me. I remembered our meeting in the summer-house in Lanherne
Garden, I remembered the words she spoke; nay, more, I felt the joy of
her kisses, and so I could not wholly despair. On the other hand,
however, I felt that she was now under the control of her father, and if
his mind had been poisoned against me my case was indeed hopeless.
Indeed, within a week from the time when I took Mr. Penryn to
Pennington, it was rumoured that Naomi had overcome her objection to
Nick Tresidder, and that, owing to her father's wishes, she had
consented to be his wife.
There seemed nothing that I could do, yet I would not go away; nay, I
could not. I was chained to St. Eve; and although I knew I was in danger
from Captain Jack and his gang, I heeded not. Tamsin Truscott, I
discovered, was slowly recovering, and it was to her, I suspect, that I
owed my safety.
I tried many times to gain an audience with Naomi's father, and in this
also I was unsuccessful. He refused to hold any intercourse with me, and
this embittered me all the more, because, even if he regarded me as the
merest stranger, I had tried to be a friend to him and his. I tried to
excuse him, and thus gain hope by saying that he was busily engaged in
the affairs of his estate; but all the same my heart was very weary and
sad in those days, especially as every one seemed to shun me. No one
would befriend me; no one gave me a kind or helpful word.
At that time all hopes of getting back Pennington died out of my heart.
Up to now I had comforted myself with the idea that I should at some
time obtain the means to fulfil the conditions of my grandfather's will.
Pennington was a valuable estate, and ignorant as I was, there seemed no
way of getting the money; for be it known, in those days money was
scarce in the country, none of the families for many miles around had
more than they needed, and even had I many friends among the so-called
wealthy, and had they been willing to advance the necessary money, I
doubt whether they could have done so. But I had no friends. Richard
Tresidder had poisoned the minds of all against me, so that the
possibility of my raising many thousands of pounds was out of the
question.
And what almost maddened me was the thought that John Penryn should have
so willingly played into the hands of my enemies, that he should so
easily have been deceived by those who were using him only as a means to
their own safety and aggrandisement.
Then one day a light came into my sky in the shape of a message from
Naomi's father, asking me to meet him in the copse above Granfer
Fraddam's cave. At first I suspected treachery, but I determined to go.
If any one had wanted to do me bodily harm plenty of chances had been
offered since I returned from my perilous adventure to the Scilly Isles.
Indeed, I did not much care what became of me, for when hope is gone all
is gone.
So I went to the copse before the time mentioned, and this was at ten
o'clock in the morning. As I have before stated, this was a lonely
place, only one cottage being near, and altogether shielded from the
gaze of men. As I said, I was early at the meeting-place, and I looked
eagerly around for Naomi's father, but no one was there. I waited until
after ten o'clock, and still no one came.
"This is but a ruse," I said bitterly; "this message came only to mock
me as others have come;" but even as this thought flashed through my
mind I heard the sound of footsteps on the frozen leaves, and turning I
saw, not John Penryn, but my love.
At first I was almost overcome at the sight of her, for I feared lest
something terrible should have happened to bring her instead of her
father, so I stood looking at her like one bereft of his senses.
"Won't you speak to me, Jasper?" she said, and then my heart jumped so
that I was less able to speak than before; but I opened my arms,
wondering all the time if I were not dreaming a beautiful dream.
Yes, she came to me, my darling, whom I despaired of ever seeing
again--she came shy and coy, I thought, but love was shining from her
eyes for all that.
"My little love!" I cried; "and so you have come at last," and I took
her in my great arms, my Naomi, the only maiden I ever did love, or ever
can love. For love comes but once--that is, such a love as mine. And her
head was nestled on my heart, just as a mother nestles the babe she
loves, and a joy, such as even I had never felt before, came to me that
wintry morning as the sun shone on the ice crystals.
There be men in these days who laugh at such a love as mine, but they
who do this have never entered into the secret of life's joy. I do not
expect to be understood by such, and my words to them will be but as a
sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal; but to those whose hearts have been
filled with a great absorbing love, I know that my tale will have a
meaning, simple as it may be, and badly, as I am afraid, it has been
told.
For some seconds my heart was too full to speak. After the weary days of
hopeless waiting, thus to enter into joy seemed to make words too poor
to tell what was in my heart.
Presently, however, I asked her questions as to what had happened since
I parted with her at the cottage by Mullion Sands, and she told me her
story. There was but little to tell however--that is, from the time she
had been left alone with Tamsin and Mrs. Crantock. She had been taken
from the cottage to the carriage, and although to a degree forced, she
had been treated kindly. Indeed, she had not been long there before I
came with her father. Then I asked her concerning him, what she thought
of him, and whether he had not brought her great joy.
"Everything seems so strange, Jasper," she said. "I had never dreamed of
such a thing, you know; and sometimes I can hardly believe it is true."
"And is he not kind to you?"
"Oh, very kind, and he has made me love him. He has had so much sorrow,
such a terrible past, you know; and he is now so gentle, so loving, that
I cannot help pitying him and loving him. And yet I cannot understand
him. He must know that the Tresidders are my enemies, and yet he insists
on my staying at Pennington; he knows I hate Nick Tresidder, and yet he
encourages him in the thought that I shall wed him."
"But you never will?" I cried.
"How can I, Jasper?" she answered.
"And if the worst comes to the worst," I said, "you will come to me, and
we will fly together."
She did not speak, but she lifted her eyes to mine, and I saw them
become dim with tears.
Then she told me that her father had spent days with men of business,
but he had never told her one word as to what he had done. Indeed, the
Tresidders had seemed to be disappointed at his having so many private
interviews with lawyers, although they made much of him, especially
Richard Tresidder's mother, who seemed to mould him at her will.
"If he is in her power, all hope is gone," I said sadly; and yet hope
was not gone, for had she not told me that she would never go to the
altar with Nick Tresidder?
Then I asked her how she had come to me that day instead of her father,
for up to now my joy had been so great at being with her, that I had
forgotten that it was not her that I had expected to see.
"That, too, is strange," she answered. "He gave this letter to a servant
in my hearing, and bade him take it to you; so I asked the man to give
it to me, and he made no objection."
I puzzled greatly at this, and I could think of no answer to the puzzle,
save that Naomi must have won the servant's heart, as she won all
hearts. Or, perhaps, he knew what it was to love, and had guessed her
secret.
I opened the letter, and this was what I read:
"_Will Jasper Pennington meet John Penryn, Lawyer Trefy, and the family
of Tresidders at Pennington on Thursday at six o'clock in the evening?_"
"That must mean to-day," I said. "What can they want of me at
Pennington?"
But I did not trouble much about the matter then, for was not Naomi with
me? Neither did she seem in a hurry to return to Pennington. Her father
was in Truro, she said, and had given no orders as to her conduct. So we
left the copse and wandered away into Pennington Woods, my love and I.
I shall never forget that day. How can I when I think of the days that
followed? It was one of those glorious winter days, when the air was
crisp and frosty, and when the blood of healthy people surges through
their veins with richness and fulness of life. The merle and the mavis
sung their love-songs, even although it was winter, the squirrels
climbed the bare branches of the trees, while even the rabbits besported
themselves gaily. And Naomi and I, because we loved each other, were as
gay as any lambs that frolic on the warm days of May. Ay, we were young;
and I, even although I was almost penniless, was happy in my strength
and my youth. Thus is God kind to His children. As for Naomi, I, who am
but poor at stringing words together, can never tell how beautiful she
was. Ay, even Mr. William Shakespeare, great man as he was, could never
have done justice to such beauty as that of my love.
She was proud of me, too, although I was poor and friendless. She
admired my finery greatly, and told me that I looked all a man should
look. "Whenever I have seen you before," she said, "you have been
strangely attired; and sometimes I have been almost afraid of you, you
have looked so fierce and strong."
"But you are glad I am strong, my little one?"
"Glad, ay; but I am not little," and indeed she was not little as
maidens go, but she seemed little to me.
"Yes; but you are little," I said laughingly. "You are but a feather's
weight."
At this she pretended to be offended, so I caught her up and held her at
arm's length, just as I have seen mothers hold their children, and I
laughed all the time in my joy.
Then she called me names, although I could see she rejoiced in my
strength--the strength which had saved her when she was in peril.
I will write no more concerning that joyful morning, much as I love to
think about it, for it was the sunshine of summer which precedes the
black night of winter.
I was not late that night at Pennington, you may be sure, for if I was
puzzled as to why I should be asked to be there, I was also eager to
know the reason; besides, hope came into my life that day--hope of the
great unknown future.
Besides, I should be near my Naomi, for such I felt she was whatever
might happen.
I was admitted without a word, and ushered into the library, where a
great many people were. I saw that the Tresidders were greatly puzzled,
especially Richard Tresidder's mother, whose bright old eyes went
searchingly from face to face. Although I had kept my time to the
minute, I was the last to arrive. The Tresidders did not speak to me,
and seemed to regard my presence as an unpardonable intrusion, and yet
they said nothing. Lawyer Trefy nodded to me, but his face revealed no
more than a sealed book. There were many strange men there, too, and
among them was Jonathan Cowling, the old man who had acted as my gaoler
at Trevose. Naomi stood by her father's side, and seemed to wonder much
at the strange scene. John Penryn's eyes shone brightly, but he was
perfectly self-possessed, and so great was the change in his appearance,
that none would have thought him to have been the man who had been with
me at the cave by Bedruthen Steps, unless they had looked at him
closely.
There was a great silence in the room, as though every one was on the
tiptoe of expectation, as, indeed, we all were; and when Naomi's father
rose to speak we all held our breath. He spoke very quietly and very
collectedly, yet I saw he had difficulty in restraining himself. I saw
then, too, how great was his resemblance to Naomi, and carefully as he
was dressed at that time, he looked the picture of what a gentleman
ought to look.
"I have taken the liberty to arrange this meeting in the house of
Richard Tresidder, because he has acted as my daughter's guardian," he
said, "and because of certain family connections which naturally link us
together, and which he hopes may link us together in the future."
At this my heart sank, for I remembered that he had spoken no word to
me; nay, he had not noticed me in any way.
"If this is so," said Richard Tresidder, who looked nervously toward
Naomi's father, "I should like to know why Jasper Pennington is here. It
is, to say the least, strange in a family meeting like this that an
outsider is admitted."
"I have arranged for Jasper Pennington to be here because he has been
associated with my child under peculiar circumstances. When you
consented--gladly consented, Richard Tresidder, for certain family
matters to be settled to-night, you did not mention any one to whose
presence you might object. Besides, you will presently see that I have
not asked him to come without a purpose."
After this many things were said which confused me greatly, but which
the men of law who were present seemed to understand perfectly, and so
did the Tresidders, for that matter.
Then Naomi's father spoke again: "You have asked me, Richard Tresidder,"
he said, "that I should give your son my daughter in marriage, and have,
moreover, told me that the marriage settlements can easily be arranged."
At this all the Tresidders nodded eagerly, although they seemed sadly
puzzled.
"I have also told you," he went on, "that I did not believe Jasper
Pennington to be so evilly disposed as you thought, and that on one or
two occasions he exposed himself to danger in seeking to render service
to my child."
"Naomi was never in danger," was the reply. "All that he has done has
been for evil purposes."
"Be that as it may, I have come to the conclusion that he deserves some
kind of recognition for his services. Besides, I was at one time
acquainted with his father, and so I do not wish to forget him. Mr.
Trefy, will you state what I am prepared to do?"
Then Lawyer Trefy read something which he had evidently carefully
prepared, and yet which I was too excited to properly understand; yet I
know it was to the effect that he had placed in his hands an order to
arrange with five representatives of county families to value the
Pennington estates, and to pay the said amount to Richard Tresidder,
according to the conditions of the will made by Jasper Pennington in the
year 17--.
"What!" cried Richard Tresidder, like one mad, while his son Nick moved
the arm which I had broken, and still hung in a sling, and cried out
with pain.
"I give this to Jasper Pennington," said Naomi's father, "as the dowry
of my child, who will, I trust, shortly become his wife."
Now at this my heart seemed to stop, but when I saw the light shining in
my love's eyes, it beat again so joyously, and swelled so with joy, that
my bosom seemed too small to contain it. Then, unable to restrain
myself, I rushed to her side and caught her hands.
As I did so, however, I heard a great noise of angry voices, and then
my darling cried so fearfully that I turned my head, only to see Richard
Tresidder leap upon me, and by the murderous gleam in his eyes I knew
that he would do me harm. But I felt to laugh at this, for at that
moment I seemed to have the strength of ten, and I flung him from me as
I would have flung a yelping cur who sought to bite me. So quickly,
indeed, did I throw him from me that no one in the room sought to
interfere, and even when, with the yell of a wild beast, he came upon me
again, I think no one thought it worth while to stop him; but even as he
came I saw my grandfather's second wife speaking to Nick, and then I
beheld, as it were, a thousand points of light flash before my eyes, and
felt as though a piece of burning steel were thrust into my side. This
was followed by wild cries of confusion, among which I thought I heard
the voice of my love saying, "Oh, Jasper, my love, speak to me!" and
then I seemed to sink away into the silence and gloom of night.
When next I opened my eyes to the light of reason and of day, I lay in a
large, old-fashioned room which I had never seen before. The bed was
soft and easy, and a delicious languor seemed to possess me. I felt no
pain, but I was as helpless as a baby. Perfect stillness prevailed, and,
like a tired child, I dropped off into a deep sleep. How long I lay thus
I know not, but presently, when I woke to consciousness again, the air
seemed to be soft and balmy, and much of the weariness seemed to have
left me. I moved my limbs, and again looked around the room.
"Where am I, I wonder?" I said to myself.
Just then the door opened and I saw old Betsy Fraddam enter.
Without knowing why, I closed my eyes, while the old dame felt my hands
and my forehead.
"He's better," she chuckled; "ould Betsy is better than the doctors.
'Ee'll git better now. Jasper Pennington ed'n a-goin' to die so aisy for
oal the Tezidders."
She moved my pillow and made my bed comfortable, then she left the room
again.
When she had gone I recalled the incidents which I have recorded--the
meeting in the copse, the walk through the woods, then the scene in
Pennington library, which ended in silence and darkness. What did it all
mean? My mind was not very clear, but presently I was able to explain
everything. But where was I? Why was everything so quiet? And why had
Betsy Fraddam come to me?
I listened, and heard the cawing of rooks, the neighing of horses, and
the lowing of cattle. If I only possessed sufficient strength I would
make my way to the window, but I was not able to do this.
Then I heard a voice which set every nerve in my body a-quivering. It
was the voice of my Naomi outside the door.
She entered all alone. She looked pale and thin; this I saw dimly, for
my eyes were partly closed. She looked at me long and tenderly, as
though she wanted, by looking, to see if I were better. Then she sat
down by my bedside.
"Are you ill, my little one?" I asked.
She started up like one frightened.
"Oh, Jasper!" she cried; "do you know me? Are you so much better? Oh, my
love, my love!"
Somehow, I know not how it was, but strength came back to me then, so I
lifted my arms, and my little maid nestled her head on me and sobbed her
joy.
"You are sure you will get better, Jasper?"
"Yes, sure."
Presently we fell to talking, for I wanted to know what had taken place,
and she told me little by little, as I could take it in.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"Where? why, at Pennington, your home."
"Yes; and the Tresidders?"
A cloud came over her face. "Richard Tresidder's mother is dead," she
said. "That night when you were shot there was a great commotion. She
had what the folks call a seizure, and she never spoke again. In her
hand she held a pistol, but it is not believed that she shot you. My
father thinks it was Nick, and that she pulled the pistol from him. She
only lived a few hours, and was buried three days later."
I heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God I had been saved from this. All the
same, I felt sad that my little maid suffered it all.
"And Nick?" I asked presently.
"He left Pennington that night. No one knows where he is now, except his
father."
"And he?"
"My father knows where he is. I do not."
"And so I am at Pennington all alone?"
"My father is here. I would not leave you; I could not, you know,
Jasper."
Thus while the rooks cawed in their joy and the dogs barked I lay, while
my little maid sat by my side, and told me the things which my heart
yearned to know.
Presently her father came, and when he knew how well I was, he said he
must return to Trevose as soon as possible and take my Naomi with him.
"But what am I to do without her?" I asked woefully.
"You must get well, Jasper, and come to Trevose to see her."
After that he told me many things which I need not write here concerning
the Tresidders, and of the way they had acted--told me why he had
behaved so strangely to me; and how to deceive them, and thus gain his
rights without difficulty, he had pretended to fall in with their
wishes.
A little later he went with my Naomi to Trevose, and my love made me
promise to come to her quickly. I did this, as you may be sure;
nevertheless, springtime had come and the leaves were bursting forth
from the trees ere I was strong enough to go to Trevose. But I did not
go in vain, neither did I return to Pennington again without the sweet
maid for whom I would willingly have laid down my life.
We were wedded at St. Eval by the jolly parson who had told me about
Lanherne House, and that very same day we posted to Pennington, the home
of the Penningtons for long generations.
And now I have told my tale, told it truly in spite of evil reports and
foul lies. Let Richard Tresidder and his son Nick, who are both alive,
and who, I trust, will read what I have written, point to one wrong
statement. This they cannot do.
It may be that I have acted foolishly, but let God be the judge whether
I have ever struck an unfair blow. I have written these things that the
truth might be known, and that no shadow should rest on her who is near
me even now; ay, and who is more beautiful than when I first saw her in
Truro: she the pure maid with pity shining from her eyes, and I the
outcast, the vagabond.
I sit in the library at Pennington as I write this, while my love is
romping with the grandest lad in the world, save my eldest son Jasper,
whom I hear shouting to his sister Naomi in the garden, while Eli, the
dwarf, watches over them as tenderly as if they were his own.
THE END.