MRS. BROWN ENJOYS ANOTHER CROOM O' CHAT WITH MRS. TRENOW, AND RECEIVES
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.
While the other gossips were going from house to house, collecting and
retailing the news respecting the mysterious disappearance of "The
Maister," Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Trenow were having a serious chat over
their "drop of comfort," according to custom.
"So, you don't think he's carr'd away by the pixies, then," said Mrs.
Trenow.
"No, I don't," replied Mrs. Brown, "'tes some of his hocus pocus work,
you may depend. I'm glad the old cap'n es gone weth Siah to see the
gentlemen. They'll find 'The Maister' somewhere, I'll be bound, afore
come back."
"No, no more than you will, cheeld vean," said Mrs. Trenow. "The Pixies
have got 'n, or something wuss, so sure as my name es Mally Trenow.
They'll be home soon, I shudn't wonder, and then we shall knaw. They've
be'n gone evar since the mornin', an' now 'tes come brave an' late. Aw!
here they are, sure nuff,--'spaik o' the Devil and his horns will
appear.' Well, where's 'The Maister,' soas," continued she, addressing
her husband and son as they entered.
"We do no more knaw than you do, old woman," replied her husband; "we've
sarched everywhere we cud think upon, and now we've returned, like a bad
penny. Two glasses o' brandy toddy, Mrs. Brown, ef you plaise, for we've
had a bra' tramp."
"Iss sure," said the landlady, proceeding to execute the order; "you
must want somethin' to drink after your hard day's work; but you haven't
be'n to the right place, I reckon."
"No fie, we ha'n't be'n to the right place, sure nuff," said Josiah.
"You shud oft to ha' kept a sharper look-out, Siah," said Mrs. Brown,
taking a side glance at Josiah, as if she meant something more than she
said.
"Zackly like that," said he, looking very serious, as he sipped his
brandy and water; "'Needs must when the devil drives' es an old sayin'
and a very true one; and I tell 'ee, Mrs. Brown, you may laugh so much
as you will, and squinny up your eyes till they're so small as the
button-holes of my jacket; but 'tes my belief that the Devil es at the
bottom of et all. He put me to sleep, and fastened the door, so that I
cudn't get out; and he took away 'The Maister' to have his
desarts,--that's my belief, down sous; and now you've got it all."
Mrs. Trenow looked very serious at her son's earnestness; for she
herself held the same opinions, although she didn't express them;--but
Mrs. Brown continued to look at Josiah in her sarcastic way, without
uttering a word.
"Where's Alice Ann, mother?" asked Josiah, at length breaking the
silence.
"She's gone up to her aunt's again for a bit," replied Mrs. Trenow; "the
ladies wanted her to stop over to Pendrea-house too, I b'lieve; but she
thoft that one stranger wor enough for them to take in; and they wor
very kind to take in the one that wanted it most. Poor Miss Reeney!
she's worth her weight in gold. Talk about Cornish diamonds, soas! why,
she's a Cornish diamond, every inch of her, and a bright one too. But
where ded 'ee lev the young gentleman, 'Siah, boy?"
"Aw! he's right enough, I reckon," replied Josiah; "I thoft how 'twould
be. When we went to sarch for 'The Maister,' he went to sarch for
somebody else, I reckon; and I s'pose he found her, for we nevar seed he
no more for the day."
"That's very well!" chimed in poor Mr. Brown, from his seat in the
chimney-corner. "We sarched for the boy everywhere; but the mare came
home safe. Wo! ho! my beauty; she shall be rubbed down, she shall! The
boy came back at last, f'rall, zackly to the time,--dedn't aw, Peggy, my
dear?"
"John Brown!" cried his wife; "hould your tongue!"--which had the
desired effect of stopping that unruly member, and bringing John Brown
back to the contemplation of the fire on the hearth--and nothing more.
Early the next morning--very early indeed--almost before the sun had
taken down his shutters, Mrs. Brown was awoke from a sound sleep by
someone, as she thought, knocking gently at the front door. She
listened, and heard the same sound again, rather louder than before. At
first she thought it might be some sailor or fisherman who had been out
fishing all night, and wanted his morning's dram to warm him.
"You must wait, whoever you are," said she to herself, as she turned
round to have a second nap. Still the knocking continued at intervals,
and prevented her from indulging in her morning's nap. "Whoever can it
be?" said she, as she sat up in the bed and listened; "I don't think it
can be any of the sailors; for they'd have rapp'd the door down by this
time, or else have gone away. I'll see who it es, at any rate." So she
went to the window, and, drawing back the blind a little, saw a figure
standing under the window which very much astonished her. It was not a
sailor, certainly. She put on some of her clothes, and went down as
quietly as she could, and opened the door to----Alrina!
"Why, wherever ded you come from?" exclaimed Mrs. Brown; "why, you're
mazed, to be sure, Come in, do, and sit down, while I do light the fire
and fit a cup o' tea for 'ee. Dear lor'! wonders will nevar cease. Miss
Reeney here this time in the mornin'!"
It was indeed Alrina, exhausted and hungry. She had walked all the way
from Pendrea-house to St. Just through the night. Her father's death she
had borne bravely, after the first shock, and she intended to have
remained at Pendrea-house until after the funeral, and then to have gone
into some respectable service to gain her own livelihood, as companion
to some invalid lady, or nursery governess. She was very grateful to her
kind friends, but she could not impose on their good nature. Then came
that cruel treatment which she supposed Frederick had planned, in order
to be revenged for the coolness she had shown towards him. She deserved
it,--she knew she deserved it; but it was hard to bear. Then came
Blanche's discovery of her secret love, and, to crown all, the news of
the mysterious disappearance of her father's body. Her friends would
still be kind to her--she knew that--and would pity her, and alleviate
her painful position as much as lay in their power. Of this she was
quite sure: but this was repugnant to her feelings;--she would rather
die, than live to be pitied,--she could not bear to think of it. She
requested to be left alone for the night, as she was tired and wanted
rest.
What should she do? If she remained there till the morning, and named
her intention of leaving, the family would not hear of it; they would
compel her to remain, and would probably watch her, in their kindness.
After thinking over her position for some time, she made up her mind
that she would leave at once, or at least as soon as the house was
quiet. She would find her way to the road as well as she could; and then
she would go direct to St. Just, where she would be able to learn the
full particulars of this mysterious affair.
The house was not quiet until late. Miss Pendray's adventure caused
great commotion, and kept the servants up late; but the interest they
took in their young mistress's adventure, and their concern for her, and
joy at her narrow escape, drove all thoughts of their visitor out of
their heads, and she was left quite undisturbed. She wrote a letter to
Mrs. Pendray, thanking her for all her kindness, and saying that
circumstances compelled her to leave; and when the house was perfectly
quiet, she put on some of the warmest clothing she had with her, and
went out into the cold night. She missed her way several times, but at
length got into the broad road, which she knew pretty well, and arrived
at Mrs. Brown's house, where she knew she would meet with a hearty
welcome, before any of the inhabitants of St. Just were astir.
It was early, too, when Frederick Morley arrived at Pendrea-house that
morning in search of Alrina. In his haste and excitement to communicate
the delightful intelligence he had just learned to the one nearest and
dearest to his heart, he quite forgot the carriage which was waiting in
the lane, so that he was some time in reaching the house; and when he
arrived at the door, he was exhausted and out of breath, and totally
unfit for the duty which he had come there to perform. So he thought his
best plan would be to have a private interview with his brother, and ask
him to be the bearer of the message to Alrina from her supposed aunt.
Mr. Morley was very much surprised at the tale his brother told him. He
could hardly believe it could be true; but as Frederick said that Mrs.
Courland seemed satisfied that Alrina was her daughter, and was at that
moment receiving more proofs of it, he felt bound to adopt the belief
too, and promised to see Alrina at once, and induce her to go to the
cottage to see her aunt.
Frederick thought that, after what had occurred, it would be better for
his brother to see Alrina alone; for, although he had started with the
full determination of seeing her himself, and bringing her with him to
the cottage to hear the welcome and delightful news, yet, when he
considered the manner in which she had treated him in their former
interviews, and remembered also that he had solicited an interview with
her the day before, and had not kept his appointment, his heart failed
him, and he proposed that his brother should see her alone, and he would
wait his return.
After some little time, Mr. Morley returned, saying that he had sought
an interview with Alrina through her friend Blanche, who immediately
went to her room, and found no one there. On the table she found a
letter, expressing her deep gratitude to Mrs. Pendray and all the family
for the great kindness they had shown her in her distress, but stating,
at the same time, she could not, after all that had occurred in
connection with her and her's, trespass on their kindness any longer.
She knew that their goodness and kind hospitality would not permit her
to leave them, she went on to say, if she remained to take leave of
them; and, therefore, to avoid pain to all parties, she had taken this
step, which she felt seemed like ingratitude,--but it was not so. From
her heart she thanked them all; and should she succeed in getting into
some situation, whereby she could gain her own livelihood honourably,
they should hear from her. If not,--God only knew what might become of
her.
Mr. Morley read this much from the letter which he held in his hand, and
then handed it to his brother.
"Gone!" cried Frederick, at length; "gone! just as the dark cloud was
being lifted, which had obscured her so long! Can it be possible? Gone!
But where can she have gone to? She had no friends--she has often told
me this--no friends but her father and aunt."
"She is most probably gone to her father's house, to enquire for herself
into this mysterious affair," said Mr. Morley.
"Yes," exclaimed Frederick; "she is gone back to the old house, no
doubt. I will go there immediately, and seek her."
"Stay," replied his brother; "let us first consider what is best to be
done. I think I had better go to St. Just in search of Alrina, while you
return to the cottage to inform our aunt of her sudden disappearance."
"That, perhaps, will be the best arrangement," said Frederick; "I will
be guided by you, for I know not what to do or say,--I am quite beside
myself. My brain seems bewildered; I cannot think steadily on any
subject. Let us go at once; I shall not rest till she is found. She is,
perhaps, even now, out on the cold bleak common. The whole country shall
be roused to search for her. Oh! why did I permit myself to be led away
by that wretched scarecrow;--but he said she was there,--yes, he told me
Alrina was at that cottage awaiting my arrival, and the letter he
brought confirmed his statement. Oh! cruel, cruel fate!"
"It will doubtless turn out all for the best," said Mr. Morley. "Had you
neglected the message of that unfortunate woman, she might have died,
and then her secret would never have been told, and Alrina would have
lived on, believing herself still the daughter of that guilty wretch."
"True," replied his brother; "I will believe in the wisdom of Divine
Providence. We see His hand in all things. I will trust, and all things
may yet be well."
The brothers did not think it advisable to tell Squire Pendray's family
anything respecting their aunt in connection with Alrina;--they merely
expressed their great concern at her abrupt departure.
Sir. Morley had not an opportunity the night before of seeing Miss
Pendray alone,--indeed, she was too much excited and overcome by her
late adventure, to receive his addresses with composure, and he was too
much rejoiced at her safety, and anxious that she should seek repose
after the terrible shock she had undergone, to think of himself. She saw
how anxious and concerned he was, and she was pleased at it. Her object
was gained; for she saw that he was feeling more than he could express
on her account.
Lieut. Fowler was prevailed upon to stay and partake of their evening's
meal: for, although the squire had not forgotten his former opinion of
the lieutenant, which he in a measure still entertained, yet he had been
the means of preserving the life of his favourite daughter; and
ingratitude was not one of the squire's failings. Fowler would not,
however, intrude on the squire's hospitality longer than politeness
compelled him, but took his leave of them as soon as he possibly could
after supper.
Mr. Morley had arrived some time before; and nothing was talked of but
Miss Pendray's accident. Almost immediately after Fowler left, Miss
Pendray rose from the table also, and, pleading fatigue, retired for the
night, leaving the others to entertain their visitor. Soon after she
left the room, a message was brought, that the squire was wanted on
business.
"Dear me," said he, "who can want me at this time of night: it can't be
to tell me that the conjuror is found, I suppose."
It was no stranger that wanted him. Miss Pendray had sent for him to
explain and atone for the injury she had done her sister and Lieut.
Fowler by her mischievous tale-bearing: she felt that she could not rest
until she had made that atonement which was due to them both.
The squire was astonished to hear the confession of the proud and
haughty Maud, and, had it been at any other time, he would have been
very angry; but the recollection of her late sufferings and miraculous
escape, and the preservation of her life by Lieut. Fowler, subdued him,
and he promised to forget and forgive, provided he found that all was
straight and above board. But he was determined that he would not be the
first to invite him back to his house; for he still believed that Maud
had exaggerated a little in her estimation of Fowler's conduct, out of
gratitude for her own preservation. However he returned to the
supper-table a happier man then he had been for many a day, and paid
more than usual attention to Blanche, who could not understand the
change.
Mr. Morley determined that he would not leave that house again without
knowing his fate; and, when breakfast was over, he told Frederick that
he had something of importance to settle there before he could leave,
but that if he would go back to the cottage, and relieve their aunt's
anxiety and send her back to Penzance in the carriage, he would meet him
at the cottage as soon as he had finished his business, and they would
then go on to St. Just together.
This pleased Frederick very much, for he wished to go with his brother,
but did not press it before, as Mr. Morley seemed to think he had better
go alone: Frederick, therefore, returned at once to the cottage, where
he found his aunt and Miss Freeman anxiously waiting his arrival with
Alrina, and they were very much distressed when they heard that she had
left Pendrea-house unknown to the family. Mrs. Courland had received
sufficient proofs to satisfy her, she said, that Alrina was her
daughter, and she was most anxious to see her, that she might have the
further test of the likeness. As that was impossible, at present,
Frederick persuaded her to return to Penzance at once, fearing Captain
Courland might return before her and might be angry at her absence,
which she could not at present explain to him.
Mr. Morley did not keep his brother waiting very long, for his business
was soon over. Miss Pendray knew quite well what he wanted, when he
requested an interview with her; for she saw by his manner the night
before, and from the tender concern he appeared to take in her
miraculous escape, and the expression of his fine handsome countenance
when he looked at her, that he felt a deeper interest in her than she
had before supposed from his seeming-indifference to her during the past
few months. Perhaps she measured his feelings by her own, and when they
met, each being anxious for the other's love, and well-knowing their own
feelings, and each being ready and willing to meet the other more than
halfway, the betrothal was soon settled, and Mr. Morley left the house a
happy man.
Horses were procured, and the two brothers were not long in reaching St.
Just. They put their horses in Mr. Brown's stable, and went in to
consult Mrs. Brown. She had heard Alrina's account of her having left
Pendrea-house without taking leave of the family, and her reasons for
doing so, and she also knew her determination as to the future, and her
wish to avoid being seen by any of her former acquaintances at present.
Mrs. Brown listened attentively to the tale the two gentlemen
told:--that Miss Freeman, Alrina's supposed aunt, was lying at a cottage
near Pendrea-house on her death-bed, and wished to see her niece before
she died.
This was very "whisht" Mrs. Brown thought, and Alrina ought to go and
see her aunt; for, however wicked "The Maister" had been, she never
heard that Miss Freeman had been concerned in his wicked doings, so she
determined that she would persuade Alrina to go. After thinking
therefore for some minutes she said,--"I was tould not to let anybody
knaw where Miss Reeney es, but in a caase like this, when a relation es
upon her death-bed, I think she oft to go.--Stay here, gentlemen, for a
few minutes, and I'll go and fetch her."
"I think we had better accompany you," said Mr. Morley, "for I fear she
will take alarm and be off again."
"As you plaise, gentlemen," she replied, "you may go by yourselves if
you like: she es now in the ould house trying to find out the mystery:
you are gentlemen and men of understanding, and your judgment, perhaps,
es better than mine."
So they went to the old house, where so many scenes of different kinds
had been enacted within the last few months. Here they found Alrina,
wandering through the rooms alone. She was perfectly calm, and talked
to them both in a quiet and dignified manner. She looked pale and
care-worn, and bowed down with grief and suffering. The beautiful
roseate hue which formerly gave such a charm to her delicate complexion
was gone, and her bright laughing eye was now cold and stern. Frederick
could scarcely trust himself to speak,--the change which had come over
Alrina within the last few days quite shocked him. Mr. Morley took her
hand gently and led her to a seat, while he told her of the illness of
her whom she had been taught to call aunt: he then imparted to her the
tale he had heard his brother relate. She seemed like one in a dream
while he went on unfolding the dark cloud, and displaying, by degrees,
the silver lining; and when he had finished his tale, she looked from
one to the other of the visitors, without uttering a word; she seemed to
be trying to realize it all. At last she burst into tears,
exclaiming,--"Oh, Mr. Morley, can this be true?--Can it be really
true?"--and, giving way again to a burst of hysterical tears, which she
seemed to have no power to control, she rose and hurried out of the
room.
The brothers heard her go upstairs; and there they sat in silence:
neither of them spoke for several minutes; at length Mr. Morley
said,--"Poor girl! how sensitive she is!--the prospect of a happy future
has affected her more than the misfortunes to which she had almost
become reconciled before. I hope it will not have any serious effect on
her: but what can we do?"
"I'll go for Mrs. Brown," said Frederick, whose feelings were ready to
burst forth also; and, had he not thus escaped into the open air, he
felt that he should have been unmanned, and have made a fool of himself
before his sterner brother.
Mrs. Brown readily accompanied Frederick, and by the time they arrived
at the deserted house he had recovered something of his former spirits.
Mr. Morley told Mrs. Brown that Alrina was overcome at hearing the news
they had communicated, and had gone upstairs in hysterics. They did not
tell her the extent of the news, so she naturally concluded it was
hearing of the serious illness of her aunt that had so affected her.
Mrs. Brown went upstairs, and remained there so long with her charge,
that the gentlemen began to think it was a more serious matter than it
really was: at length they came down together. Alrina was still very
pale, and her eyes were swollen with weeping; but she was tranquil and
more composed,--almost cheerful. She was leaning for support on Mrs.
Brown, who looked on her sweet face and smoothed it with her hand
caressingly, as ladies will sometimes smooth and caress a favourite
lap-dog, playing with it as it were, and fondling it, while she
expressed her love by kissing the smooth white forehead. It was a
touching scene,--that kind, good, old woman leading in her whom she
loved and respected so much, and caressing her as if she were a little
child, while she looked up so lovingly in return, thanking by that look
her kind friend who had been to her a second mother, and feeling that to
express her gratitude in any other way would be more than she could do.
Mr. Morley, at that moment, thought he had never seen so lovely a
creature before; and Frederick,--we will not tell his thoughts,--we
cannot.
Alrina had told her kind friend all, and now Mrs. Brown wished to hear
it all over again from Mr. Morley, who told his tale once more; and,
with Frederick's assistance, a little more was added which he had not
before remembered.
Alrina had not yet begun to realize her position:--her thoughts seemed
to be wandering; her brain was bewildered, and she knew not what to say;
her future had seemed before obscured by a dark cloud,--she could see
nothing but gloom before her; now the cloud seemed brighter, but it was
not quite dispelled. She had met with so many disappointments in her
short life, that she feared there might be a greater one than she had
hitherto felt still in store for her. What, if this tale should turn out
to be a fabrication of her aunt's,--and after she had buoyed herself up
with the hope of future happiness, it should be discovered that she was
not Mrs. Courland's daughter after all? This overthrow of all her hopes,
after having tasted of their pleasures, would be worse than remaining as
she was. All these thoughts, and a thousand others, passed through her
mind in rapid succession as she sat listening to the tale for the second
time, and hearing questions asked by Mrs. Brown which the two young men
could not answer; for Frederick knew nothing more than what he had heard
Miss Freeman relate to his aunt: he had seen no proof; all he could say
was, that his aunt seemed perfectly satisfied when he returned to take
her to the carriage, and was most anxious to see Alrina, that she might
judge of the likeness, as far as a person can judge of her own likeness.
Mrs. Brown thought that, at all events, it was Alrina's duty to go and
see her aunt at once: but she could not go alone, nor could she go with
the gentlemen without some female companion. Mrs. Brown could not leave
her husband so long, nor the business; she suggested, therefore, that
Alice Ann should be sought,--she was in the neighbourhood she knew.
"Josiah will find her," said she, "if one of the gentlemen will run down
to Captain Trenow's house and ask him."
Frederick volunteered to go; for although he was happy at having Alrina
to gaze upon, yet he was not comfortable, nor was she, evidently; for
neither knew how the other felt. They had both done violence to their
feelings,--the one intentionally, the other unwittingly, and a mutual
explanation was necessary before they could be certain how they now
stood towards each other. Frederick could scarcely bring himself to
believe that Alrina really meant that she had ceased to love him;--he
could not think that, after what had passed between them. But she had
told him so, and was he not bound to believe her? If so,--if that was
really true, he must try and win her love back again. He could not give
her up,--he would not. These were his reflections as he hastened on his
errand.
Josiah was gone to Tol-pedn-Penwith signal-station, Mrs. Trenow said, in
search of his young master. He must have gone the other road, and so he
had missed him.
Frederick told Mrs. Trenow his errand, saying that Miss Alrina had come
back to see the old house once more, and she wanted Alice Ann.
"I'll run up for her myself, sar," said she, "tesn't very far. I'll just
clap up my 'tother cap fust. Where shall I tell her she'll find her
missus?"
"I think you had better tell her to come to Mrs. Brown's," replied
Frederick.