ALRINA'S TROUBLES INCREASE.
Josiah Trenow resided with his father and mother in a small but neat
cottage, about a hundred yards from Mr. Freeman's house; consequently,
it was easy for Alrina or Alice Ann, when their elders were out of the
way, to run in and have a quiet gossip with Mrs. Trenow. Her husband was
underground-captain at Botallack mine, so that he was not much at home
during the day.
Alrina could not settle down to anything when she returned to her
father's house after her interview with Frederick Morley, related in the
last chapter. She tried to work, but she could not get on. She then took
a book, but could not fix her attention on the pages; and after sitting
half-an-hour with the book in her hand, she found that she was holding
it upside down.
Her father had returned, and had been closeted with her aunt ever since,
and it was as likely as not that Alrina would not see either of them
again for the night. They did not trust her with any of their secrets,
of which they seemed to have a good many; and her lover had imparted a
secret to her to-day, which made her feel very unhappy on his account;
but he had trusted her, and confided in her, so that was some
consolation; but then, if there should be any dreadful secret connected
with her past history, or her mother's, of whom she knew nothing, and
she were to lose his love in consequence, what should she do? She would
have no one then on whom she could lean for support and consolation in
her trials. All these thoughts, crowding one upon the other, made her
feel very sad, and she burst into tears, as she sat down in the little
parlour. Poor girl! how sad to be in the midst of relatives and friends,
and yet to feel that no one cares for you! Better to be a recluse at
once--far better.
Alice Ann knew that her young mistress had something on her mind that
distressed her, but she did not feel herself competent to advise or
console her. She peeped in at the door, however, and said,--
"What's the matter, Miss Reeney? I shud think you'd lost your sweetheart
a'most!"
"No, no, Alice Ann," she replied, wiping away her tears; "if I had one,
like you, and everything was going on smoothly, like your affairs,
perhaps it might raise my spirits a little."
"'Tesn't all so smooth as you may think," said Alice Ann; "I ha'n't se'n
sight nor sign of 'Siah (ef that's what you do main) sence the day after
the wreck, when he an' 'The Maister' had such a tussle up in the
'private room.' I looked in through the keyhole, but I couldn't see
much. When 'Siah came out aw looked all flushed, but I don't think aw
wor frightened, like some of them are when they do come out. Hes
fe-a-thar an' mother ha'n't seed much of 'n neither since then, I
b'lieve. I wish you could stay for to run down there, an' ax about 'n a
bit, Miss Reeney."
That was a happy suggestion. A good long chat with Mrs. Trenow, and,
probably, another secret, would relieve her mind a little from the heavy
weight she felt pressing upon it--almost more than she could bear.
She found Mrs. Trenow alone, with a basketful of coarse worsted
stockings before her, belonging to the men, which she was "mending a
croom," she said.
"How are 'ee, Miss Reeney, my dear," said she, as Alrina entered; "the
sight of you es good for sore eyes! Why, I ha'n't seed 'ee for ever so
long."
"No," replied Alrina; "I have been pretty much engaged, and my aunt has
been out more than usual lately, and so I have been housekeeper, you
know."
"Iss sure," said Mrs. Trenow, looking at her visitor over her
spectacles. "You ha' seed an' heerd bra' things lately, I s'pose. They
do say 'The Maister' es worken' the oracle purty fitty sence the wreck."
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Alrina, in surprise.
"What do I main?" asked Mrs. Trenow, taking off her spectacles, and
closing the door;--"why, this here es what I do main. The best of the
things that wor picked up from that wreck es up in 'The Maister's'
private room, and more wud ha' b'en there, ef et worn't for one thing
more than another. There ha' b'en more people ill-wished, and more
cattle an' things dead, sence that night, than wor ever knaw'd to be
afore in so short a time; an' where shud they go to ef et worn't to 'The
Maister?'--and what wud he do for them ef they dedn't cross his hand?"
"I don't at all understand you!" said Alrina, more surprised than ever.
"No, I s'pose you don't, my dear," replied Mrs. Trenow; "you must go
abroad for to hear news about home, so they do say. An' poor Maister
Brown, too, ha' b'en up there, an' came home frightened out of his life.
Our 'Siah wor up to 'the public' when aw came in. He wudn't spaik a word
then, so 'Siah said; but to-day Mrs. Brown told 'Siah all about et. But
'tes a secret, my dear;--hush!"
"What is it, Mrs. Trenow? don't keep me in this suspense," said Alrina,
in an excited manner; "do tell me what has happened."
"Happened!" replied Mrs. Trenow; "why, nothen' ha'n't happened yet, that
I do knaw of; but how he'll git 'n to do it I don't knaw. I wudn't ef I
wor he."
"What! is Josiah to do something for Mr. Brown?" asked Alrina.
"No, my dear, not 'Siah," replied Mrs. Trenow. "There's a young
gentleman up there stopping, so 'Siah said, and he must ride Maister
Brown's mare to the edge of the cliff 'pon the Land's-End point, an'
look over, to save the man and the boy from witchcraft. Now, mind you
don't tell nobody, for 'tes a secret, my dear, down sous."
"I'd see them both at the bottom of the sea first," said Alrina; "why
should a stranger be mixed up with Mr. Brown's misfortunes?"
"Why! sure nuff!" replied Mrs. Trenow; "you may say Y or X, whichever
you mind to, but ef 'The Maister' do give the orders to the likes of Mr.
Brown, 'tes likely to be done, ef et can be any way in the world."
"What did my father know of the stranger, to give such an order as
that?" said Alrina.
"That I do no more knaw than a child," replied Mrs. Trenow; "but here's
fe-a-thar; mayhap he can tell."
"Your sarvant, Miss Reeney," said Captain Trenow, as he entered the
room; "you're a stranger, ma'am."
"Not much of a stranger, Captain Trenow," said Alrina; "but you are so
seldom at home when I can run down for a gossip with your good wife."
"Zackly like that," said the captain; "she's a bra' good hand for a
gossip, I do b'lieve. I'll back har agen the parish for tongue, Miss
Reeney. She don't do much else, I b'lieve in my conscience."
"Areah! then," said his wife, indignantly; "I shud like to knaw how
you'd get your victuals cooked, and your clothes mended, ef I was so
fond of gossipping as some people I do knaw?"
"Are 'ee going for to see the gentleman ride over the cliff to-morrow,
Miss Reeney?" said Captain Trenow, by way of changing the subject. "I do
hear that he's determined upon et, 'cause somebody said he cudn't. More
fool he, I do say."
"Oh! Captain Trenow," said Alrina, in the greatest terror; "don't let
him do it--pray, don't."
"Me! Miss Reeney," said the captain;--"why, I don't knaw the gentlemen.
Nobody here have ever seed 'n, 'ceps 'Siah an' the landlord's people."
"But won't Josiah prevent him?" said Alrina.
"That I can no more tell than you can, ma'am," replied Trenow. "'Siah es
gone up there now."
"Why, Miss Reeney!" exclaimed Mrs. Trenow, who had been looking
intently on Alrina for the last few minutes; "I shud think that strange
gentleman wor your sweetheart, ef I ded'nt knaw that you never clapp'd
your eyes upon om in your life. 'Siah do say, f'rall, that he's a likely
young chap enough."
This last expression of Mrs. Trenow's put Alrina on her guard. She did
not, at present, wish the gossips of St. Just to know that Frederick
Morley was either her friend or her lover; nor would he, under existing
circumstances, have wished it either. There were secrets on both sides
to be discovered and explained, before it would be prudent for them
openly to declare their attachment to each other. Frederick had not yet
even seen Alrina's father, and she was as yet entirely under her
father's control. She went home, therefore, with a sad heart; and
nothing that Alice Ann could say or do, could induce her to tell her
what she had heard, nor why she was so sad. She hoped that it might not
be true,--that was her only consolation. But it was true, nevertheless.