THE BORROWED FEATHERS OF THE PEACOCK FAIL TO CONCEAL ENTIRELY THE
NATURAL PLUMAGE OF THE JACKDAW.
The strange gentleman who had caused such a sensation at the ball, and
who called himself "Mr. Smith," continued to reside at the hotel, at
Penzance, in a style which evinced great wealth, and perhaps rank, as
the inhabitants generally thought; so he was called on by most of the
aristocracy of the neighbourhood, and invited to dine at their houses.
He frequently rode out to the Logan Rock, or Lamorna cliffs, where he
met Miss Pendray--sometimes by appointment, and sometimes by accident.
She seemed quite fascinated with the mysterious stranger, and would meet
him in the roughest weather, and wander with him over the cliffs, while
he related to her tales of romance and horror, which delighted and
fascinated her; and she would look into his face, and allow him to hold
her hand, as they sat side by side on the rocks, while he poured into
her willing ear those tales she so delighted to listen to,--and by
degrees he blended, almost imperceptibly at first, his own feelings with
the more romantic scenes which he depicted so well, and shadowed forth,
at length, in vague but unmistakeable language, his love and admiration
of the beautiful creature by his side, until the majestic Maud was
subdued into a mere mortal and received his protestations and vows of
love and constancy, and returned them as fully and freely and
confidingly as her sister, the gentle and innocent Blanche, would have
done to him she loved above all others on earth. But, although he was
always so ready and anxious to meet Miss Pendray out of doors, he
avoided going to her father's house. She would frequently ask him the
reason of this, but he would never satisfy her. On one occasion, after
an unusually tender and protracted meeting on the cluster of rocks
surrounding the Logan Rock, when he thought he had gained sufficient
power over her, he asked her to elope with him; at which she was at
first highly indignant. She drew herself up instantly to her full
dignity, and, looking down with scorn on her lover, while her eyes
flashed with indignation, she said,
"Do you take me for a silly school-girl, that you presume to make such a
proposition to me? No, sir! while I reside under my father's roof, it
must be from his hands, and from his house, that I must be claimed and
taken, if at all."
"Nay," exclaimed her companion, in the greatest alarm and humiliation;
"I meant not to offend you. My life has been one of romance from my
childhood, and I thought you possessed the same romantic ideas, but in a
loftier, and, I perceive, more chivalrous, form. Pardon me. The
anticipation of the possession of a jewel so valuable, dazzled and
disordered my brain, and I feared its loss, if left to others to
decide; your father might refuse his consent, and a thousand things
might happen in the delay, to deprive me of the possession of her on
whom my happiness and life depend. But your wishes shall be as commands
to me;--it shall be done methodically, and in as businesslike a manner
as other poor mortals perform the same ordeal: I will ask your honoured
father, who will doubtless give us his blessing: we will go to the
parish church and be united, as the Cornish clodhoppers are accustomed
to be, and have a quiet dinner, and after tea we will jog into Penzance,
and spend the honeymoon in some comfortable lodgings. Let me go now, and
speak to the good squire," continued he, taking her hand, and kneeling
on the grass at her feet.
"Oh! Mr. Smith," she said, relenting a little; "you have drawn a very
rustic picture truly of the marriage ceremony. The one great event in
woman's life should be a little more brilliant and exciting than that,
certainly."
"Yes, yes," said he, rising and kissing her hand; "I knew you would not
be satisfied with a humdrum marriage, and so I went, perhaps, a little
too far the other way."
"Oh! Mr. Smith," she said, turning from him, and covering her eyes with
one hand, while he retained the other, "I am afraid I am doing wrong,
even now. I ought not to be here,--I know I ought not, and yet----"
"Do not speak thus, dearest Maud," said he; "you know my devoted
attachment to you, and my admiration of your noble character, and the
beauties of your mind and person. Your majestic and dignified form, and
the brilliancy of your eyes, attracted my attention when I entered the
ball-room at Penzance, and----"
"Allow me to remind you," replied Miss Pendray, rather haughtily, "that
I do not like gross flattery; it is repugnant to my nature; I cannot
endure it."
These expressions were uttered abruptly and incautiously, and the fair
lady was aware immediately that she had said too much; but she was so
much accustomed to have her own way at home, and to be treated with the
greatest deference and respect by all, and was moreover so conscious of
her own perfections, that any plain allusion to them was quite repulsive
to her; it was not the first time that this mysterious stranger had
mixed up a little vulgarity, as she deemed it, with his more refined
conversation, and interesting and romantic tales. She did not quite
understand him even now. She had never before taken him up so sharply,
although she had often wished to do so; but she feared to wound his
feelings. She had now, in the excitement of the moment, expressed her
thoughts more fully than she intended, and she felt sorry, and would
have given worlds to recall those last expressions. She was relieved,
however, from her embarrassment on that account; for, just at that
moment, as she turned to reassure him, a gentlemanly looking man
suddenly emerged from behind one of those lofty rocks at a little
distance from where the lovers were standing, and approached towards
them. Miss Pendray's back was turned towards the intruder, so that she
did not notice his approach; but, as she was about to speak to her
companion, she saw such a terrified, horrible expression come over his
countenance, as he gazed at the gentleman who was now rapidly
approaching them, that she turned round instinctively to see what it was
that had so absorbed his attention, when she found herself almost face
to face with the stranger, as he jumped down from a rock near her. She
uttered a little shriek at the suddenness of the surprise, but
immediately recovered herself sufficiently to take a hasty glance at his
personal appearance, before he spoke; for he was a remarkable looking
man. He was considerably above the middle height, strongly built, and
robust. His hair was almost white, although, from his fresh complexion
and general appearance, he was evidently still a young man--perhaps
scarcely forty. His face was tanned with the sun, as if he had lived
long in a warm climate. He had the appearance of a gentleman, and, from
his manners, he evidently was one.
"I beg your pardon, madam," he said, "for thus intruding on you. I
assure you it was quite unintentional. I was searching for Lieut.
Fowler. His men, at the station, told me he was out on the coast, near
by, somewhere; and, as I wished to see him, I thought I would take a
stroll, with the chance of falling in with him, rather than wait indoors
this beautiful morning."
"Pray don't apologize," replied Miss Pendray; "I often meet Lieut.
Fowler on the cliffs, and this is not at all an unlikely place to meet
with him."
"Thank you," said the stranger; and, taking off his hat to the lady, he
passed on in search of the lieutenant, while Miss Pendray turned round
towards Mr. Smith, whom she expected to find recovered by this time from
the shock, or whatever it was, that made him look so odd, and prevented
him, as she thought, from speaking to the intruder, who was now out of
sight. But where was Mr. Smith? He was nowhere to be seen. She looked
all round, and climbed to the topmost rock, but could see no trace of
him. It was very odd, she thought; and that demoniacal look haunted her.
What could it mean? Did he know that stranger, and fear him for some
reason? No, that could scarcely be; for he evidently saw Mr. Smith, but
he showed no signs of recognition. She knew not what to think. What did
she know of Mr. Smith? Who was he? Where did he come from? He was
comparatively a stranger to her. These were questions which she now
began to ask herself, as she walked slowly home; and she now began to
think that she had acted wrong, in meeting a mere stranger so often,
clandestinely, and allowing herself to be led away by his fascinating
conversation, after knowing him little more than a fortnight. These
reflections smoothed and softened her naturally bold and daring spirit,
and, instead of feeling a wish now to soar to the top of the loftiest
rocks and cliffs, and look danger in the face without shrinking, she
felt subdued and melancholy, and instinctively took the path which led
down towards Lamorna Cove--the spot so loved and admired by her gentle
sister.
Here she met Blanche and Lieut. Fowler searching for some rare shells on
the beach, to whom she recounted her adventure with the strange
gentleman with the white hair, but she did not mention the other in whom
she was more interested.
Lieut. Fowler knew no such person, he said, as Miss Pendray described.
Perhaps it was some inspecting officer. He could not have come on duty,
however, for in that case he would have been in uniform. But whoever it
was, he thought he had better go and see him; so he took leave of the
two sisters, and walked away in the direction of the signal-station at
Tol-pedn-Penwith, wondering who his strange visitor could be.