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diff --git a/40631-0.txt b/40631-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6319aba --- /dev/null +++ b/40631-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17499 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40631 *** + + IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA + + BY + + S. BARING-GOULD + + AUTHOR OF + "THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS," "URITH," ETC. + + + NEW YORK + NATIONAL BOOK COMPANY + 6 MISSION PLACE + + + Copyright, 1891, + BY + UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY. + [_All rights reserved._] + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. OVER AND DONE 5 + + II. A PASSAGE OF ARMS 12 + + III. CAPTAIN CRUEL 20 + + IV. HOP-O'-MY-THUMB 24 + + V. THE BUTTONS 31 + + VI. UNCLE ZACHIE 39 + + VII. A VISIT 45 + + VIII. A PATCHED PEACE 52 + + IX. C. C. 60 + + X. EGO ET REGINA MEA 67 + + XI. JESSAMINE 75 + + XII. THE CAVE 85 + + XIII. IN THE DUSK 93 + + XIV. WARNING OF DANGER 100 + + XV. CHAINED 109 + + XVI. ON THE SHINGLE 114 + + XVII. FOR LIFE OR DEATH 122 + + XVIII. UNA 128 + + XIX. A GOLDFISH 136 + + XX. BOUGHT AND SOLD 144 + + XXI. OTHELLO COTTAGE 151 + + XXII. JAMIE'S RIDE 158 + + XXIII. ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS 166 + + XXIV. A NIGHT EXCURSION 175 + + XXV. FOUND 182 + + XXVI. AN UNWILLING PRISONER 189 + + XXVII. A RESCUE 195 + + XXVIII. AN EXAMINATION 203 + + XXIX. ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER 211 + + XXX. THROUGH THE TAMARISKS 221 + + XXXI. AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS 229 + + XXXII. A DANGEROUS GIFT 237 + + XXXIII. HALF A MARRIAGE 244 + + XXXIV. A BREAKFAST 252 + + XXXV. JACK O' LANTERN 259 + + XXXVI. THE SEA-WOLVES 269 + + XXXVII. BRUISED NOT BROKEN 275 + + XXXVIII. A CHANGE OF WIND 282 + + XXXIX. A FIRST LIE 290 + + XL. THE DIAMOND BUTTERFLY 297 + + XLI. A DEAD-LOCK 306 + + XLII. TWO LETTERS 313 + + XLIII. THE SECOND TIME 320 + + XLIV. THE WHIP FALLS 327 + + XLV. GONE FROM ITS PLACE 334 + + XLVI. A SECOND LIE 341 + + XLVII. FAST IN HIS HANDS 349 + + XLVIII. TWO ALTERNATIVES 357 + + XLIX. NOTHING LIKE GROG 364 + + L. PLAYING FORFEITS 372 + + LI. SURRENDER 380 + + LII. TO JUDITH 387 + + LIII. IN THE SMOKE 395 + + LIV. SQUAB PIE 403 + + + + +IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +OVER AND DONE. + + +Sitting in the parsonage garden, in a white frock, with a pale green +sash about her waist, leaning back against the red-brick wall, her +glowing copper hair lit by the evening sun, was Judith Trevisa. + +She was tossing guelder-roses into the air; some dozens were strewn +about her feet on the gravel, but one remained of the many she had +plucked and thrown and caught, and thrown and caught again for a sunny +afternoon hour. As each greenish-white ball of flowers went up into +the air it diffused a faint but pleasant fragrance. + +"When I have done with you, my beauty, I have done altogether," said +Judith. + +"With what?" + +Her father spoke. He had come up unperceived by the girl, burdened +with a shovel in one hand and a bucket in the other, looking pale, +weary, and worn. + +"Papa, you nearly spoiled my game. Let me finish, and I will speak." + +"Is it a very serious matter, Judith, and engrossing?" + +"Engrossing, but not serious, _Je m'amuse_." + +The old rector seated himself on the bench beside her, and he also +leaned back against the red-brick, gold-and-gray-lichen-spotted wall, +and looked into the distance before him, waiting till his daughter was +ready to speak, not, perhaps, sorry to have a little rest first, for +he was overtired. Had Judith not been absorbed in her ball-play with +the guelder-rose bunch she would have noticed his haggard appearance, +the green hue about his mouth, the sunken eyes, the beaded brow. But +she was counting the rebounds of her ball, bent on sustaining her play +as long as was possible to her. + +She formed a charming picture, fresh and pure, and had the old man not +been overtired, he would have thought so with a throb of parental +pride. + +She was a child in size, slender in build, delicate in bone, with face +and hands of porcelain transparency and whiteness, with, moreover, +that incomparable complexion only seen in the British Isles, and then +only with red-gold hair. + +Her bronze-leather shoes were the hue of some large flies that basked +and frisked on the warm wall, only slightly disturbed by the girl's +play, to return again and run and preen themselves again, and glitter +jewel-like as studs on that sun-baked, lichen-enamelled wall. Her +eyes, moreover, were lustrous as the backs of these flies, iridescent +with the changing lights of the declining sun, and the changed +direction of her glance following the dancing ball of guelder-rose. +Her long fingers might have been of china, but that when raised so +that the sun struck their backs they were turned to a translucent +rose. There was no color in her cheek, only the faintest suffusion of +pink on the temples below where the hair was rolled back in waves of +luminous molten copper dashing against the brick wall. + +"I have done my work," said the rector. + +"And I my play," responded the girl, letting the ball drop into her +lap and rock there from one knee to the other. "Papa, this fellow is +the conqueror; I have made him dance thirty-five great leaps, and he +has not yet fallen--wilfully. I let him go down and get breath just +now. There lie all my dancers dead about me. They failed very +speedily." + +"You cannot be forever playing, Ju." + +"That is why I play now, papa. When playtime is over I shall be in +earnest indeed." + +"Indeed?" the old man sighed. + +Judith looked round, and was shocked to see how ill her father +appeared to be. + +"Are you very tired, darling papa?" + +"Yes--overtired." + +"Have you been at your usual task?" + +"Yes, Ju--an unprofitable task." + +"Oh, papa!" + +"Yes, unprofitable. The next wind from the sea that blows--one will +blow in an hour--and all my work is undone." + +"But, my dear papa!" Judith stooped and looked into the bucket. +"Why!--what has made you bring a load of sand up here? We want none in +the garden. And such a distance too!--from the church. No wonder you +are tired." + +"Have I brought it?" he asked, without looking at the bucket. + +"You have, indeed. That, if you please, is unprofitable work, not the +digging of the church out of the sand-heaps that swallow it." + +"My dear, I did not know that I had not emptied the pail outside the +church-yard gate. I am very tired; perhaps that explains it." + +"No doubt about it, papa. It was work quite as unprofitable but much +more exhausting than my ball-play. Now, papa, while you have been +digging your church out of the sand, which will blow over it again +to-night, you say, I have been pitching and tossing guelder-roses. We +have been both wasting time, one as much as the other." + +"One as much as the other," repeated the old man. "Yes, dear, one as +much as the other, and I have been doing it all my time here--morally, +spiritually, as well as materially, digging the church out of the +smothering sands, and all in vain--all profitless work. You are right, +Ju." + +"Papa," said Judith hastily, seeing his discouragement and knowing his +tendency to depression, "papa, do you hear the sea how it roars? I +have stood on the bench, more than once, to look out seaward, and find +a reason for it; but there is none--all blue, blue as a larkspur; and +not a cloud in the sky--all blue, blue there too. No wind either, and +that is why I have done well with my ball-play. Do you hear the roar +of the sea, papa?" she repeated. + +"Yes, Ju. There will be a storm shortly. The sea is thrown into great +swells of rollers, a sure token that something is coming. Before night +a gale will be on us." + +Then ensued silence. Judith with one finger trifled with the +guelder-rose bunch in her lap musingly, not desirous to resume her +play with it. Something in her father's manner was unusual, and made +her uneasy. + +"My dear!" he began, after a pause, "one must look out to sea--into +the vast mysterious sea of the future--and prepare for what is coming +from it. Just now the air is still, and we sit in this sweet, sunny +garden, and lean our backs against the warm wall, and smell the +fragrance of the flowers; but we hear the beating of the sea, and know +that a mighty tempest, with clouds and darkness, is coming. So in +other matters we must look out and be ready--count the time till it +comes. My dear, when I am gone----" + +"Papa!" + +"We were looking out to sea and listening. That must come at some +time--it may come sooner than you anticipate." He paused, heaved a +sigh, and said, "Oh, Jamie! What are we to do about Jamie?" + +"Papa, I will always take care of Jamie." + +"But who will take care of you?" + +"Of me? Oh, papa, surely I can take care of myself!" + +He shook his head doubtfully. + +"Papa, you know how strong I am in will--how firm I can be with +Jamie." + +"But all mankind are not Jamies. It is not for you I fear, as much as +for you and him together. He is a trouble and a difficulty." + +"Jamie is not so silly and troublesome as you think. All he needs is +application. He cannot screw his mind down to his books--to any +serious occupation. But that will come. I have heard say that the +stupidest children make the sharpest men. Little by little it will +come, but it will come certainly. I will set myself as my task to make +Jamie apply his mind and become a useful man, and I shall succeed, +papa." She caught her father's hand between hers, and slapped it +joyously, confidently. "How cold your hand is, papa! and yet you look +warm." + +"You were always Jamie's champion," said her father, not noticing her +remark relative to himself. + +"He is my twin brother, so of course I am his champion. Who else would +be that, were not I?" + +"No--no one else. He is mischievous and troublesome--poor, poor +fellow. You will always be to Jamie what you are now, Ju--his +protector or champion? He is weak and foolish, and if he were to fall +into bad hands--I shudder to think what might become of him." + +"Rely on me, dearest father." + +Then he lifted the hand of his daughter, and looked at it with a faint +smile. "It is very small, it is very weak, to fight for self alone, +let alone yourself encumbered with Jamie." + +"I will do it, papa, do not fear." + +"Judith, I must talk very gravely with you, for the future is very +dark to me; and I am unable with hand or brain to provide anything +against the evil day. Numbness is on me, and I have been hampered on +every side. For one thing, the living has been so poor, and my +parishioners so difficult to deal with, that I have been able to lay +by but a trifle. I believe I have not a relative in the world--none, +at all events, near enough and known to me that I dare ask him to care +for you----" + +"Papa, there is Aunt Dionysia." + +"Aunt Dionysia," he repeated, with a hesitating voice. "Yes; but Aunt +Dionysia is--is not herself capable of taking charge of you. She has +nothing but what she earns, and then--Aunt Dionysia is--is--well--Aunt +Dionysia. I don't think you could be happy with her, even if, in the +event of my departure, she were able to take care of you. Then--and +that chiefly--she has chosen, against my express wishes--I may say, in +defiance of me--to go as housekeeper into the service of the man, of +all others, who has been a thorn in my side, a hinderer of God's work, +a--But I will say no more." + +"What! Cruel Coppinger?" + +"Yes, Cruel Coppinger. I might have been the means of doing a little +good in this place, God knows! I only _think_ I might; but I have been +thwarted, defied, insulted by that man. As I have striven to dig my +buried church out of the overwhelming sands, so have I striven to lift +the souls of my poor parishioners out of the dead engulfing sands of +savagery, brutality, very heathenism of their mode of life, and I have +been frustrated. The winds have blown the sands back with every gale +over my work with spade, and that stormblast Coppinger has devastated +every trace of good that I have done, or tried to do, in spiritual +matters. The Lord reward him according to his works." + +Judith felt her father's hand tremble in hers. + +"Never mind Coppinger now," she said, soothingly. + +"I must mind him," said the old man, with severe vehemence. "And--that +my own sister should go, go--out of defiance, into his house and serve +him! That was too much. I might well say, I have none to whom to look +as your protector." He paused awhile, and wiped his brow. His pale +lips were quivering. "I do not mean to say," said he, "that I acted +with judgment, when first I came to S. Enodoc, when I spoke against +smuggling. I did not understand it then. I thought with the thoughts +of an inlander. Here--the sands sweep over the fields, and agriculture +is in a measure impossible. The bays and creeks seem to +invite--well--I leave it an open question. But with regard to +wrecking--" His voice, which had quavered in feebleness, according +with the feebleness of his judgment relative to smuggling, now gained +sonorousness. "Wrecking, deliberate wrecking, is quite another matter. +I do not say that our people are not justified in gathering the +harvest the sea casts up. There always must be, there will be wrecks +on this terrible coast; but there has been--I know there has been, +though I have not been able to prove it--deliberate provocation of +wrecks, and that is the sin of Cain. Had I been able to prove----" + +"Never mind that now, dear papa. Neither I nor Jamie are, or will be, +wreckers. Talk of something else. You over-excite yourself." + +Judith was accustomed to hear her father talk in an open manner to +her. She had been his sole companion for several years, since his +wife's death, and she had become the _confidante_ of his inmost +thoughts, his vacillations, his discouragements, not of his hopes--for +he had none, nor of his schemes--for he formed none. + +"I do not think I have been of any use in this world," said the old +parson, relapsing into his tone of discouragement, the temporary flame +of anger having died away. "My sowing has produced no harvest. I have +brought light, help, strength to none. I have dug all day in the +vineyard, and not a vine is the better for it; all cankered and +fruitless." + +"Papa--and me! Have you done nothing for me!" + +"You!" + +He had not thought of his child. + +"Papa! Do you think that I have gained naught from you? No strength, +no resolution from seeing you toil on in your thankless work, without +apparent results? If I have any energy and principle to carry me +through I owe it to you." + +He was moved, and raised his trembling hand and laid it on her golden +head. + +He said no more, and was very still. + +Presently she spoke. His hands weighed heavily on her head. + +"Papa, you are listening to the roar of the sea?" + +He made no reply. + +"Papa, I felt a cold breath; and see, the sun has a film over it. +Surely the sea is roaring louder!" + +His hand slipped from her head and struck her shoulder--roughly, she +thought. She turned, startled, and looked at him. His eyes were open, +he was leaning back, almost fallen against the wall, and was deadly +pale. + +"Papa, you are listening to the roar?" + +Then a thought struck her like a bullet in the heart. + +"Papa! Papa! My papa!--speak--speak!" + +She sprang from the bench--was before him. Her left guelder-rose had +rolled, had bounded from her lap, and had fallen on the sand the old +man had listlessly brought up from the church. His work, her play, +were forever over. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A PASSAGE OF ARMS. + + +The stillness preceding the storm had yielded. A gale had broken over +the coast, raged against the cliffs of Pentyre, and battered the walls +of the parsonage, without disturbing the old rector, whom no storm +would trouble again, soon to be laid under the sands of his buried +church-yard, his very mound to be heaped over in a few years, and +obliterated by waves of additional encroaching sand. Judith had not +slept all night. She--she, a mere child, had to consider and arrange +everything consequent on the death of the master of the house. The +servants--cook and house-maid--had been of little, if any, assistance +to her. When Jane, the house-maid, had rushed into the kitchen with +the tidings that the old parson was dead, cook, in her agitation, +upset the kettle and scalded her foot. The gardener's wife had come in +on hearing the news, and had volunteered help. Judith had given her +the closet-key to fetch from the stores something needed; and Jamie, +finding access to the closet, had taken possession of a pot of +raspberry jam, carried it to bed with him, and spilled it over the +sheets, besides making himself ill. The house-maid, Jane, had +forgotten in her distraction to shut the best bedroom casement, and +the gale during the night had wrenched it from its hinges, flung it +into the garden on the roof of the small conservatory, and smashed +both. Moreover, the casement being open, the rain had driven into the +room unchecked, had swamped the floor, run through and stained the +drawing-room ceiling underneath, the drips had fallen on the mahogany +table and blistered the veneer. A messenger was sent to Pentyre Glaze +for Miss Dionysia Trevisa, and she would probably arrive in an hour or +two. + +Mr. Trevisa, as he had told Judith, was solitary, singularly so. He +was of a good Cornish family, but it was one that had dwindled till +it had ceased to have other representative than himself. Once well +estated, at Crockadon, in S. Mellion, all the lands of the family had +been lost; once with merchants in the family, all the fortunes of +these merchants industriously gathered had been dissipated, and +nothing had remained to the Reverend Peter Trevisa but his family name +and family coat, a garb or, on a field gules. It really seemed as +though the tinctures of the shield had been fixed in the crown of +splendor that covered the head of Judith. But she did not derive this +wealth of red-gold hair from her Cornish ancestors, but from a +Scottish mother, a poor governess whom Mr. Peter Trevisa had married, +thereby exciting the wrath of his only sister and relative, Miss +Dionysia, who had hitherto kept house for him, and vexed his soul with +her high-handed proceedings. It was owing to some insolent words used +by her to Mrs. Trevisa that Peter had quarrelled with his sister at +first. Then when his wife died, she had forced herself on him as +housekeeper, but again her presence in the house had become irksome to +him, and when she treated his children--his delicate and dearly loved +Judith--with roughness, and his timid, silly Jamie with harshness, +amounting in his view to cruelty--harsh words had passed between them; +sharp is, however, hardly the expression to use for the carefully +worded remonstrances of the mild rector, though appropriate enough to +her rejoinders. Then she had taken herself off and had become +housekeeper to Curll Coppinger, Cruel Coppinger, as he was usually +called, who occupied Pentyre Glaze, and was a fairly well-to-do single +man. + +Mr. Trevisa had not been a person of energy, but one of culture and +refinement; a dispirited, timid man. Finding no neighbors of the same +mental texture, nor sympathetic, he had been driven to make of Judith, +though a child, his companion, and he had poured into her ear all his +troubles, which largely concerned the future of his children. In his +feebleness he took comfort from her sanguine confidence, though he was +well aware that it was bred of ignorance, and he derived a weak +satisfaction from the thought that he had prepared her morally, at all +events, if in no other fashion, for the crisis that must come when he +was withdrawn. + +Mr. Peter Trevisa--Peter was a family Christian name--was for +twenty-five years rector of S. Enodoc, on the north coast of Cornwall +at the mouth of the Camel. The sand dunes had encroached on the church +of S. Enodoc, and had enveloped the sacred structure. A hole was +broken through a window, through which the interior could be reached, +where divine service was performed occasionally in the presence of the +church-wardens, so as to establish the right of the rectors, and +through this same hole bridal parties entered to be coupled, with +their feet ankle-deep in sand that filled the interior to above the +pew-tops. + +But Mr. Trevisa was not the man to endure such a condition of affairs +without a protest and an effort to remedy it. He had endeavored to +stimulate the farmers and land-owners of the parish to excavate the +buried church, but his endeavors had proved futile. There were several +reasons for this. In the first place, and certainly foremost, stood +this reason: as long as the church was choked with sand and could not +be employed for regular divine service, the tithe-payers could make a +grievance of it, and excuse themselves from paying their tithes in +full, because, as they argued, "Parson don't give us sarvice, so us +ain't obliged to pay'n." They knew their man, that he was +tender-conscienced, and would not bring the law to bear upon them; he +would see that there was a certain measure of justness in the +argument, and would therefore not demand of them a tithe for which he +did not give them the _quid pro quo_. But they had sufficient +shrewdness to pay a portion of their tithes, so as not to drive him to +extremities and exhaust his patience. It will be seen, therefore, that +in the interests of their pockets the tithe-payers did not want to +have their parish church excavated. Excavation meant weekly service +regularly performed, and weekly service regularly performed would be +followed by exaction of the full amount of rent-charge. Then, again, +in the second place, should divine service be resumed in the church of +S. Enodoc, the parishioners would feel a certain uneasiness in their +consciences if they disregarded the summons of the bell; it might not +be a very lively uneasiness, but just such an irritation as might be +caused by a fly crawling over the face. So long as there was no +service they could soothe their consciences with the thought that +there was no call to make an effort to pull on Sunday breeches and +assume a Sunday hat, and trudge to the church. Therefore, secondly, +for the ease of their own consciences, it was undesirable that S. +Enodoc should be dug out of the sand. + +Then lastly, and thirdly, the engulfment of the church gave them a +cherished opportunity for being nasty to the rector, and retailing +upon him for his incaution in condemning smuggling and launching out +into anathema against wrecking. As he had made matters disagreeable to +them--tried, as they put it, to take bread out of their mouths, they +saw no reason why they should spend money to please him. + +Mr. Trevisa had made very little provision for his children, +principally, if not wholly, because he could not. He had received from +the farmers and land-owners a portion of tithe, and had been contented +with that rather than raise angry feelings by demanding the whole. Out +of that portion he was able to put aside but little. + +Aunt Dionysia arrived, a tall, bony woman, with hair turning gray, +light eyes and an aquiline nose, a hard, self-seeking woman, who +congratulated herself that she did not give way to feelings. + +"I feel," said she, "as do others, but I don't show my feelings as +beggars expose their bad legs." + +She went into the kitchen. "Hoity-toity!" she said to the cook, "fine +story this--scalding yourself. Mind this, you cook meals or no wage +for you." To Jane, "The mischief you have done shall be valued and +deducted from any little trifle my brother may have left you in his +will. Where is Jamie? Give me that joint of fishing-rod; I'll beat him +for stealing raspberry jam." + +Jamie, however, on catching a glimpse of his aunt had escaped into the +garden and concealed himself. The cook, offended, began to clatter the +saucepans. + +"Now, then," said Mrs. Trevisa--she bore the brevet-rank--"in a house +of mourning what do you mean by making this noise, it is impertinent +to me." + +The house-maid swung out of the kitchen, muttering. + +Mrs. Trevisa now betook herself up-stairs in quest of her niece, and +found her with red eyes. + +"I call it rank _felo-de-se_," said Aunt Dionysia. "Every one +knew--_he_ knew, that he had a feeble heart, and ought not to be +digging and delving in the old church. Who sent the sand upon it? Why, +Providence, I presume. Not man. Then it was a flying in the face of +Providence to try to dig it out. Who wanted the church? He might have +waited till the parishioners asked for it. But there--where is Jamie? +I shall teach him a lesson for stealing raspberry jam." + +"Oh, aunt, not now--not now!" + +Mrs. Trevisa considered a moment, then laid aside the fishing-rod. + +"Perhaps you are right. I am not up to it after my walk from Pentyre +Glaze. Now, then, what about mourning? I do not suppose Jamie can be +measured by guesswork. You must bring him here. Tell him the whipping +is put off till another day. Of course you have seen to black things +for yourself. Not? Why, gracious heavens! is everything to be thrown +on my shoulders? Am I to be made a beast of burden of? Now, no mewling +and pewking. There is no time for that. Whatever _your_ time may be, +_mine_ is valuable. I can't be here forever. Of course every +responsibility has been put on me. Just like Peter--no consideration. +And what can I do with a set of babies? I have to work hard enough to +keep myself. Peter did not want my services at one time; now I am put +upon. Have you sent for the undertaker? What about clothing again? I +suppose you know that you must have mourning? Bless my heart! what a +lot of trouble you give me." + +Mrs. Trevisa was in a very bad temper, which even the knowledge that +it was seemly that she should veil it could not make her restrain. She +was, no doubt, to a certain extent fond of her brother--not much, +because he had not been of any advantage to her; and no doubt she was +shocked at his death, but chiefly because it entailed on herself +responsibilities and trouble that she grudged. She would be obliged to +do something for her nephew and niece; she would have to provide a +home for them somewhere. She could not take them with her to +Coppinger's house, as she was there as a salaried servant, and not +entitled to invite thither her young relatives. Moreover, she did not +want to have them near her. She disliked young people; they gave +trouble, they had to be looked after, they entailed expenses. What was +she to do with them? Where was she to put them? What would they have +to live upon? Would they call on her to part-maintain them? Miss +Dionysia had a small sum put away, and she had no intention of +breaking into it for them. It was a nest-egg, and was laid by against +an evil day that might come on herself. She had put the money away for +herself, in her old age, not for the children of her feeble brother +and his lack-penny wife to consume as moth and rust. As these thoughts +and questions passed through her mind, Aunt Dionysia pulled open +drawers, examined cupboards, pried open closets, and searched chests +and wardrobes. + +"I wonder now what he has put by for them," she said aloud. + +"Do you mean my dear papa?" asked Judith, whose troubled heart and +shaken spirits were becoming angry and restless under the behavior of +the hard, unfeeling woman. + +"Yes, I do," answered Mrs. Trevisa, facing round, and glaring +malevolently at her niece. "It is early days to talk of this, but it +must be done sooner or later, and if so, the sooner the better. There +is money in the house, I suppose?" + +"I do not know." + +"I must know. You will want it--bills must be paid. You will eat and +drink, I suppose? You must be clothed. I'll tell you what: I'll put +the whole case into the hands of Lawyer Jenkyns, and he shall demand +arrears of tithes. I know what quixotish conduct Peter----" + +"Aunt, I will not allow this." A light flush came into the girl's +cheek. + +"It is all very well talking," said Aunt Dionysia; "but black is not +white, and no power on earth can make me say that it is so. Money must +be found. Money must be paid for expenses, and it is hard that I +should have to find it; so I think. What money is there in the house +for present necessities? I must know." + +Suddenly a loud voice was heard shouting through the house-- + +"Mother Dunes! old Dunes! I want you." + +Judith turned cold and white. Who was this that dared to bellow in the +house of death, when her dear, dear father lay up-stairs with the +blinds down, asleep? It was an insult, an outrage. Her nerves had +already been thrilled, and her heart roused into angry revolt by the +cold, unfeeling conduct of the woman who was her sole relative in the +world. And now, as she was thus quivering, there came this boisterous +shout. + +"It is the master!" said Mrs. Trevisa, in an awestruck voice, lowered +as much as was possible to her. + +To Coppinger alone she was submissive, cringing, obsequious. + +"What does he mean by this--this conduct?" asked Judith, trembling +with wrath. + +"He wants me." + +Again a shout. "Dunes! old fool! the keys!" + +Then Judith started forward, and went through the door to the head of +the staircase. At the foot stood a middle-sized, strongly built, +firmly knit man, in a dress half belonging to the land and half to the +sea, with high boots on his legs, and slouched hat on his head. His +complexion was olive, his hair abundant and black, covering cheeks and +chin and upper lip. His eyes were hard and dark. He had one brown hand +on the banister, and a foot on the first step, as though about to +ascend, when arrested by seeing the girl at the head of the stairs +before him. The house was low, and the steps led without a break +directly from the hall to the landing which gave communication to the +bedrooms. There was a skylight in the roof over the staircase, through +which a brilliant flood of pure white light fell over Judith, whereas +every window had been darkened by drawn blinds. The girl had found no +sombre dress suitable to wear, and had been forced to assume the same +white gown as the day before, but she had discarded the green sash and +had bound a black ribbon about her waist, and another about her +abundant hair. A black lace kerchief was drawn over her shoulders +across her breast and tied at her back. She wore long, black mittens. + +Judith stood motionless, her bosom rising and falling quickly, her +lips set, the breath racing through her nostrils, and one hand resting +on the banister at the stair-head. + +In a moment her eyes met those of Coppinger, and it was at once as +though a thrill of electric force had passed between them. + +He desisted from his attempt to ascend, and said, without moving his +eyes from hers, in a subdued tone, "She has taken the keys," but he +said no more. He drew his foot from the step hesitatingly, and +loosened his hand from the banister, down which went a thrill from +Judith's quivering nerves, and he stepped back. + +At the same moment she descended a step, still looking steadily into +the dark, threatening pupils, without blinking or lowering her orbs. +Emboldened by her boiling indignation, she stood on the step she had +reached with both feet firmly planted there, and finding that the +banister rattled under her hand she withdrew it, and folded her arms. +Coppinger raised his hand to his head and took off his hat. He had a +profusion of dark, curly, flowing hair, that fell and encircled his +saturnine face. + +Then Judith descended another step, and as she did so he retreated a +step backwards. Behind him was the hall door, open; the light lay wan +and white there on the gravel, for no sunshine had succeeded the gale. +At every step that Judith took down the stair Coppinger retreated. +Neither spoke; the hall was still, save for the sound of their breath, +and his came as fast as hers. When Judith had reached the bottom she +turned--Coppinger stood in the doorway now--and signed to her aunt to +come down with the keys. + +"Take them to him--Do not give them here--outside." + +Mrs. Trevisa, surprised, confounded, descended the stair, went by her, +and out through the door. Then Judith stepped after her, shut the door +to exclude both Aunt Dionysia and that man Coppinger, who had dared, +uninvited, on such a day to invade the house. + +She turned now to remount the stairs, but her strength failed her, her +knees yielded, and she sank upon a step, and burst into a flood of +tears and convulsive sobs. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +CAPTAIN CRUEL. + + +Captain Coppinger occupied an old farmhouse, roomy, low-built, granite +quoined and mullioned, called Pentyre Glaze, in a slight dip of the +hills near the cliffs above the thundering Atlantic. One ash shivered +at the end of the house--that was the only tree to be seen near +Pentyre Glaze. And--who was Coppinger? That is more than can be told. +He had come--no one knew whence. His arrival on the north coast of +Cornwall was mysterious. There had been haze over the sea for three +days. When it lifted, a strange vessel of foreign rig was seen lying +off the coast. Had she got there in the fog, not knowing her course; +or had she come there knowingly, and was making for the mouth of the +Camel? A boat was seen to leave the ship, and in it a man came ashore; +the boat returned to the vessel, that thereupon spread sail and +disappeared in the fog that re-descended over the water. The man gave +his name as Coppinger--his Christian name, he said, was Curll, and he +was a Dane; but though his intonation was not that of the Cornish, it +was not foreign. He took up his residence in S. Enodoc at a farm, and +suddenly, to the surprise of every one, became by purchase the +possessor of Pentyre Glaze, then vacant and for sale. Had he known +that the estate was obtainable when he had come suddenly out of the +clouds into the place to secure it? Nobody knew, and Coppinger was +silent. + +Thenceforth Pentyre Glaze became the harbor and den of every lawless +character along the coast. All kinds of wild uproar and reckless +revelry appalled the neighborhood day and night. It was discovered +that an organized band of smugglers, wreckers, and poachers made this +house the centre of their operations, and that "Cruel Coppinger" was +their captain. There were at that time--just a century ago--no +resident magistrates or gentry in the immediate neighborhood. The +yeomen were bribed, by kegs of spirits left at their doors, to +acquiesce in a traffic in illicit goods, and in the matter of exchange +they took their shares. It was said that on one occasion a preventive +man named Ewan Wyvill, who had pursued Coppinger in his boat, was +taken by him, and his head chopped off by the captain, with his boat +axe, on the gunwale. Such was the story. It was never proved. Wyvill +had disappeared, and the body was recovered headless on the Doom Bar. +That violence had been used was undoubted, but who had committed the +crime was not known, though suspicion pointed to Coppinger. +Thenceforth none ever called him Curll; by one consent he was named +Cruel. In the West of England every one is given his Christian name. +An old man is Uncle, and an old woman Aunt, and any one in command is +a Captain. So Coppinger was known as Captain Cruel, or as Cruel +Coppinger. + +Strange vessels were often seen appearing at regular intervals on the +coast, and signals were flashed from the one window of Pentyre Glaze +that looked out to sea. + +Among these vessels, one, a full-rigged schooner, soon became +ominously conspicuous. She was for long the terror of the Cornish +coast. Her name was The Black Prince. Once, with Coppinger on board, +she led a revenue cutter into an intricate channel among the rocks, +where, from knowledge of the bearings, The Black Prince escaped +scathless, while the king's vessel perished with all on board. + +Immunity increased Coppinger's daring. There were certain bridle-roads +along the fields over which he exercised exclusive control. He issued +orders that no man should pass over them by night, and accordingly +from that hour none ever did.[A] + + [A] Many stories of Cruel Coppinger may be found in Hawker's + Footprints of Former Men in Cornwall. I have also told them + in my Vicar of Morwenstow. I have ventured to translate the + scene of Coppinger's activity further west, from Wellcombe to + S. Enodoc. But, indeed, he is told of in many places on this + coast. + +Moreover, if report spoke true--and reports do not arise without +cause--Coppinger was not averse from taking advantage, and that +unlawful advantage, of a wreck. By "lawful" and "unlawful" two +categories of acts are distinguished, not by the laws of the land but +by common consent of the Cornish conscience. That same Cornish +conscience distinguished wrecking into two classes, as it +distinguished then, and distinguishes still, witchcraft into two +classes. The one, white witchcraft, is legitimate and profitable, and +to be upheld; the other, black witchcraft, is reprehensible, unlawful, +and to be put down. So with wrecking. The Bristol Channel teemed with +shipping, flights of white sails passed in the offing, and these +vessels were, when inward bound, laden with sugars and spices from the +Indies, or with spirits and wines from France. If outward bound they +were deep in the water with a cargo of the riches of England. + +Now, should a gale spring up suddenly and catch any of these vessels, +and should the gale be--as it usually is, and to the Cornish folk, +favorably is--from the northwest, then there was no harbor of refuge +along that rock-bound coast, and a ship that could not make for the +open was bound inevitably to be pounded to pieces against the +precipitous walls of the peninsula. If such were the case, it was +perfectly legitimate for every householder in the district to come +down on the wreck and strip it of everything it contained. + +But, on the other hand, there was wrecking that was disapproved of, +though practised by a few, so rumor said, and that consisted in luring +a vessel that was in doubt as to her course, by false signals, upon a +reef or bar, and then, having made a wreck of her, to pillage her. +When on a morning after a night in which there had been no gale, a +ship was found on the rocks, and picked as clean as the carcase of a +camel in the desert, it was open to suspicion that this ship had not +been driven there by wind or current; and when the survivors, if they +reached the shore, told that they had been led to steer in the +direction where they had been cast away by certain lights that had +wholly deceived them, then it was also open to suspicion that these +lights had been purposely exhibited for the sake of bringing that +vessel to destruction; and when, further, it was proved that a certain +set or gang of men had garnered all the profits, or almost all the +profits, that accrued from a wreck, before the countryside was aware +that a wreck had occurred, then it was certainly no very random +conjecture that the wreck had been contrived in some fashion by those +who profited by it. There were atrocious tales of murder of +shipwrecked men circulating, but these were probably wholly, or at +all events in part, untrue. If when a vessel ran upon the rocks she +was deserted by her crew, if they took to the boats and made for +shore, then there remained no impediment to the wreckers taking +possession; it was only in the event of their finding a skipper on +board to maintain right over the grounded vessel, or the mariners +still on her engaged in getting her off, that any temptation to +violence could arise. But it was improbable that a crew would cling to +a ship on such a coast when once she was on the breakers. It was a +moral certainty that they would desert her, and leave the wreck to be +pillaged by the rats from shore, without offer of resistance. The +character of the coast-wreckers was known to seamen, or rather a +legend full of horror circulated relative to their remorseless +savagery. The fear of wreckers added to the fear of the sea would +combine to drive a crew, to the last man, into the boats. +Consequently, though it is possible that in some cases murder of +castaway men may have occurred, such cases must have been most +exceptional. The wreckers were only too glad to build a golden bridge +by which the wrecked might escape. Morally, without a question, those +who lured a hapless merchantman upon the rocks were guilty of the +deaths of those sailors who were upset in their boats in escaping from +the vessel, or were dashed against the cliffs in their attempts to +land, but there was no direct blood-guiltiness felt in such cases; and +those who had reaped a harvest from the sea counted their gains +individually, and made no estimate of the misery accruing thereby to +others. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +HOP-O'-MY-THUMB. + + +"Listen to me," said Judith. + +"Yes, Ju!" + +The orphans were together in the room that had been their father's, +the room in which for some days he had lain with the blinds down, the +atmosphere heavy with the perfume of flowers, and that indescribable, +unmistakable scent of death. Often, every day, almost every hour, had +Judith stolen into the room while he lay there, to wonder with +infinite reverence and admiration at the purity and dignity of the +dead face. It was that of the dear, dear father, but sublimed beyond +her imagination. All the old vacillation was gone, the expression of +distress and discouragement had passed away, and in their place had +come a fixity and a calm, such as one sees in the busts of the ancient +Roman Cæsars, but with a superadded ethereality, if such a word can be +used, that a piece of pagan statuary never reached. Marvellous, past +finding out, it is that death, which takes from man the spiritual +element, should give to the mere clay a look of angelic spirituality, +yet so it is--so it was with the dead Peter Trevisa; and Judith, with +eyes filling as fast as dried, stood, her hands folded, looking into +his face, felt that she had never loved, never admired him half enough +when he was alive. Life had been the simmer in which all the scum of +trivialities, of infirmities, of sordidness had come to and shown +itself on the surface. Now Death had cleared these all away, and in +the peaceful face of the dead was seen the _real_ man, the nobility, +sanctity, delicacy that formed the texture of his soul, and which had +impressed the very clay wrapped about that volatile essence. + +As long as the dear father's body lay in the house Judith had not +realized her utter desolation. But now the funeral was over, and she +had returned with her brother to the parsonage, to draw up the +blinds, and let the light once more enter, and search out, and +revivify the dead rooms. + +She was very pale, with reddened eyes, and looking more fragile and +transparent than ever she did before, worn and exhausted by tearful, +wakeful nights, and by days of alternating gusts of sorrow and busy +preparation for the funeral, of painful recollections of joyous days +that were past, and of doubtful searchings into a future that was full +of cloud. + +Her black frock served to enhance her pallor, and to make her look +thinner, smaller than when in white or in color. + +She had taken her place in her father's high-backed leather chair, +studded thick with brass nails, the leather dulled and fretted by +constant use, but the nail-heads burnished by the same treatment. + +Her brother was in the same chair with her; both his arms were round +her neck, and his head was on her shoulder. She had her right arm +about his waist, her left was bowed, the elbow leaning on the chair +arm, her hand folded inward, and her weary head rested on its back. + +The fine weather broken in upon by the gale had returned; the sun +shone in unhindered at the window, and blazed on the children's hair; +the brass nails, polished by friction, twinkled as little suns, but +were naught in lustre to the gorgeous red of the hair of the twins, +for the first were but brass, and the other of living gold. + +Two more lonely beings could hardly be discovered on the face of the +earth--at all events in the peninsula of Cornwall--but the sense of +this loneliness was summed in the heart of Judith, and was there +articulate; Jamie was but dimly conscious of discomfort and +bereavement. She knew what her father's death entailed on her, or knew +in part, and conjectured more. Had she been left absolutely alone in +the world her condition would have been less difficult than it was +actually, encumbered with her helpless brother. Swimming alone in the +tossing sea, she might have struck out with confidence that she could +keep her head above water, but it was quite otherwise when clinging to +her was a poor, half-witted boy, incapable of doing anything to save +himself, and all whose movements tended only to embarrass her. Not +that she regretted for an instant having to care for Jamie, for she +loved him with sisterly and motherly love combined, intensified in +force by fusion; if to her a future seemed inconceivable without +Jamie, a future without him would be one without ambition, pleasure, +or interest. + +The twin brother was very like her, with the same beautiful and +abundant hair, delicate in build, and with the same refined face, but +without the flashes of alternating mood that lightened and darkened +her face. His had a searching, bewildered, distressed expression on +it--the only expression it ever bore except when he was out of temper, +and then it mirrored on its surface his inward ill-humor. His was an +appealing face, a face that told of a spirit infantile, innocent, and +ignorant, that would never grow stronger, but which could deteriorate +by loss of innocence--the only charge of which it was capable. The boy +had no inherent naughtiness in him, but was constantly falling into +mischief through thoughtlessness, and he was difficult to manage +because incapable of reasoning. + +What every one saw--that he never would be other than what he +was--Judith would not admit. She acknowledged his inaptitude at his +books, his frivolity, his restlessness, but believed that these were +infirmities to be overcome, and that when overcome the boy would be as +other boys are. + +Now these children--they were aged eighteen, but Jamie looked four +years younger--sat in their father's chair, clinging to each other, +all in all to one another, for they had no one else to love and who +loved them. + +"Listen to me, Jamie." + +"Yes, Ju, I be----" + +"Don't say 'I be'--say 'I am.'" + +"Yes, Ju." + +"Jamie, dear!" she drew her arm tighter about him; her heart was +bounding, and every beat caused her pain. "Jamie, dear, you know that, +now dear papa is gone, and you will never see him in this world again, +that----" + +"Yes, Ju." + +"That I have to look to you, my brother, to stand up for me like a +man, to think and do for me as well as for yourself--a brave, stout, +industrious fellow." + +"Yes, Ju." + +"I am a girl, and you will soon be a man, and must work for both of +us. You must earn the money, and I will spend it frugally as we both +require it. Then we shall be happy again, and dear papa in Paradise +will be glad and smile on us. You will make an effort, will you not, +Jamie? Hitherto you have been able to run about and play and squander +your time, but now serious days have come upon us, and you must fix +your mind on work and determine--Jamie--mind, screw your heart to a +strong determination to put away childish things and be a man, and a +strength and a comfort to me." + +He put up his lips to kiss her cheek, but could not reach it, as her +head was leaning on her hand away from him. + +"What are you fidgeting at, my dear?" she asked, without stirring, +feeling his body restless under her arm. + +"A nail is coming out," he answered. + +It was so; whilst she had been speaking to him he was working at one +of the brass studs, and had loosened its bite in the chair. + +"Oh, Jamie! you are making work by thus drawing out a nail. Can you +not help me a little, and reduce the amount one has to think of and +do? You have not been attending to what I said, and I was so much in +earnest." She spoke in a tone of discouragement, and the tone, more +than the words, impressed the susceptible heart of the boy. He began +to cry. + +"You are cross." + +"I am not cross, my pet; I am never cross with you, I love you too +dearly; but you try my patience sometimes, and just now I am +overstrained--and then I did want to make you understand." + +"Now papa's dead I'll do no more lessons, shall I?" asked Jamie, +coaxingly. + +"You must, indeed, and with me instead of papa." + +"Not _rosa_, _rosæ_?" + +"Yes, _rosa_, _rosæ_." + +Then he sulked. + +"I don't love you a bit. It is not fair. Papa is dead, so I ought not +to have any more lessons. I hate _rosa_, _rosæ_!" He kicked the legs +of the chair peevishly with his heels. As his sister said nothing, +seemed to be inattentive--for she was weary and dispirited--he slapped +her cheek by raising his hand over his head. + +"What, Jamie, strike me, your only friend?" + +Then he threw his arms round her again, and kissed her. "I'll love +you; only, Ju, say I am not to do _rosa_, _rosæ_!" + +"How long have you been working at the first declension in the Latin +grammar, Jamie?" + +He tried for an instant to think, gave up the effort, laid his head on +her shoulder, and said: + +"I don't know and don't care. Say I am not to do _rosa_, _rosæ_!" + +"What! not if papa wished it?" + +"I hate the Latin grammar!" + +For a while both remained silent. Judith felt the tension to which her +mind and nerves had been subjected, and lapsed momentarily into a +condition of something like unconsciousness, in which she was dimly +sensible of a certain satisfaction rising out of the pause in thought +and effort. The boy lay quiet, with his head on her shoulder, for a +while, then withdrew his arms, folded his hands on his lap, and began +to make a noise by compressing the air between the palms. + +"There's a finch out there going 'chink! chink!' and listen, Ju, I can +make 'chink! chink!' too." + +Judith recovered herself from her distraction, and said: + +"Never mind the finch now. Think of what I say. We shall have to leave +this house." + +"Why?" + +"Of course we must, sooner or later, and the sooner the better. It is +no more ours." + +"Yes, it is ours. I have my rabbits here." + +"Now that papa is dead it is no longer ours." + +"It's a wicked shame." + +"Not at all, Jamie. This house was given to papa for his life only; +now it will go to a new rector, and Aunt Dunes[B] is going to fetch us +away to another house." + + [B] Dunes is the short for Dionysia. + +"When?" + +"To-day." + +"I won't go," said the boy. "I swear I won't." + +"Hush, hush, Jamie! Don't use such expressions. I do not know where +you have picked them up. We must go." + +"And my rabbits, are they to go too?" + +"The rabbits? We'll see about them. Aunt----" + +"I hate Aunt Dunes!" + +"You really must not call her that; if she hears you she will be very +angry. And consider, she has been taking a great deal of trouble about +us." + +"I don't care." + +"My dear, she is dear papa's sister." + +"Why didn't papa get a nicer sister--like you?" + +"Because he had to take what God gave him." + +The boy pouted, and began to kick his heels against the chair-legs +once more. + +"Jamie, we must leave this house to-day. Aunt is coming to take us +both away." + +"I won't go." + +"But, Jamie, I am going, and the cook is going, and so is Jane." + +"Are cook and Jane coming with us?" + +"No, dear." + +"Why not?" + +"We shall not want them. We cannot afford to keep them any more, to +pay their wages; and then we shall not go into a house of our own. You +must come with me, and be a joy and rest to me, dear Jamie." + +She turned her head over, and leaned it on his head. The sun glowed in +their mingled hair--all of one tinge and lustre. It sparkled in the +tears on her cheek. + +"Ju, may I have these buttons?" + +"What buttons?" + +"Look!" + +He shook himself free from his sister, slid his feet to the ground, +went to a bureau, and brought to his sister a large open basket that +had been standing on the top of the bureau. It had been turned out of +a closet by Aunt Dionysia, and contained an accumulation of those most +profitless of collected remnants--odd buttons, coat buttons, brass, +smoked mother-of-pearl, shirt buttons, steel clasps--buttons of all +kinds, the gathering together made during twenty-five years. Why the +basket, after having been turned out of a lumber closet, had been left +in the room of death, or why, if turned out elsewhere, it had been +brought there, is more than even the novelist can tell. Suffice it +that there it was, and by whom put there could not be said. + +"Oh! what a store of pretty buttons!" exclaimed the boy. "Do look, +Ju, these great big ones are just like those on Cheap Jack's red +waistcoat. Here is a brass one with a horse on it. Do see! Oh, Ju, +please get your needle and thread and sew this one on to my black +dress." + +Judith sighed. It was in vain for her to impress the realities of the +situation on his wandering mind. + +"Hark!" she exclaimed. "There is Aunt Dunes. I hear her voice--how +loud she speaks! She has come to fetch us away." + +"Where is she going to take us to?" + +"I do not know, Jamie." + +"She will take us into the forest and lose us, like as did +Hop-o'-my-Thumb's father." + +"There are no forests here--hardly any trees." + +"She will leave us in the forest and run away." + +"Nonsense, Jamie!" + +"I am sure she will. She doesn't like us. She wants to get rid of us. +I don't care. May I have the basket of buttons?" + +"Yes, Jamie." + +"Then I'll be Hop-o'-my-Thumb." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE BUTTONS. + + +It was as Judith surmised. Mrs. Dionysia Trevisa had come to remove +her nephew and niece from the rectory. She was a woman decided in +character, especially in all that concerned her interests. She had +made up her mind that the children could not be left unprotected in +the parsonage, and she could not be with them. Therefore they must go. +The servants must leave; they would be paid their month's wage, but by +dismissing them their keep would be economized. There was a factotum +living in a cottage near, who did the gardening, the cinder-sifting, +and boot-cleaning for the rectory inmates, he would look after the +empty house, and wait on in hopes of being engaged to garden, sift +cinders, and clean boots for the new rector. + +As it was settled that the children must leave the house, the next +thing to consider was where they were to be placed. The aunt could not +take them to Pentyre Glaze; that was not to be thought of. They must +be disposed of in some other way. + +Mrs. Trevisa had determined on a sale of her brother's effects: his +furniture, bedding, curtains, carpets, books, plate, and old sermons. +She was anxious to realize as soon as possible, so as to know for +certain what she could calculate upon as being left her for the +support of Judith and her brother. To herself the rector had left only +a ring and five guineas. She had not expected more. His decease was +not likely to be a benefit, but, on the contrary, an embarrassment to +her. He had left about a thousand pounds, but then Mrs. Trevisa did +not yet know how large a bite out of this thousand pounds would be +taken by the dilapidations on rectory, glebe, and chancel. The chancel +of the church was in that condition that it afforded a wide margin for +the adjudication of dilapidations. They might be set down at ten +shillings or a thousand pounds, and no one could say which was the +fairest sum, as the chancel was deep in sand and invisible. The +imagination of the valuer might declare it to be sound or to be +rotten, and till dug out no one could impeach his judgment. + +In those days, when an incumbent died, the widow and orphans of the +deceased appointed a valuer, and the incoming rector nominated his +valuer, and these two cormorants looked each other in the eyes--said +to each other, "Brother, what pickings?" And as less resistance to +being lacerated and cleaned to the bone was to be anticipated from +a broken-hearted widow and helpless children than from a robust, +red-faced rector, the cormorants contrived to rob the widow and the +fatherless. Then that cormorant who had been paid to look after the +interest of the widow and children and had not done it said to the +other cormorant, "Brother, I've done you a turn this time; do me the +like when the chance falls to you." Now, although nominally the money +picked off the sufferers was to go to the account of the incomer, it +was not allowed to pass till the cormorants had taken toll of it. +Moreover, these cormorants were architects, builders, solicitors, or +contractors of some sort, and looked to get something further out of +the incoming man they favored, whereas they knew they could get +nothing at all out of the departed man who was buried. Now we have +pretended to change all this; let us persuade ourselves we have made +the conduct of these matters more honest and just. + +Aunt Dionysia did not know by experience what valuers for +dilapidations were, but she had always heard that valuation for +dilapidations materially diminished the property of a deceased +incumbent. She was consequently uneasy, and anxious to know the worst, +and make the best of the circumstances that she could. She saw clearly +enough that the sum that would remain when debts and valuation were +paid would be insufficient to support the orphans, and she saw also +with painful clearness that there would be a necessity for her to +supplement their reduced income from her own earnings. This conviction +did not sweeten her temper and increase the cordiality with which she +treated her nephew and niece. + +"Now, hoity-toity!" said Aunt Dionysia; "I'm not one of your mewlers +and pewkers. I have my work to do, and can't afford to waste time in +the luxury of tears. You children shall come with me. I will see you +settled in, and then Balhachet shall wheel over your boxes and +whatever we want for the night. I have been away from my duties longer +than I ought, and the maids are running wild, are after every one who +comes near the place like horse-flies round the cattle on a sultry +day. I will see you to your quarters, and then you must shift for +yourselves. Balhachet can come and go between the rectory and Zachie +Menaida as much as you want." + +"Are we going to Mr. Menaida's, aunt?" asked Judith. + +"Did I not say Zachie Menaida! If I said Zachie Menaida I suppose I +meant what I said, or are you hard of hearing? Come--time to _me_ is +precious. Bustle--bustle--don't keep me waiting while you gape." + +After a while Mrs. Trevisa succeeded in getting her nephew and niece +to start. Judith, indeed, was ready at the first suggestion to go with +her aunt, glad to get over the pang of leaving the house as quickly as +might be. It was to be the rupture of one thread of the tie that bound +her to the past, but an important thread. She was to leave the house +as a home, though she would return to it again and again to carry away +from it such of her possessions as she required and could find a place +for at Zachary Menaida's. But with Jamie it was otherwise. He had run +away, and had to be sought, and when found coaxed and cajoled into +following his aunt and sister. + +Judith had found him, for she knew his nooks and dens. He was seated +in a laurel bush playing with the buttons. + +"Look, Ju! there is some broken mirror among the buttons. Stand still, +and I will make the sun jump into your eyes. Open your mouth, and I +will send him down your throat. Won't it be fun; I'll tease old Dunes +with it." + +"Then come along with me." + +He obeyed. + +The distance to Zachary Menaida's cottage was about a mile and a +quarter, partly through parish roads, partly through lanes, the way in +parts walled and hedged up against the winds, in others completely +exposed to every breath of air where it traversed a down. + +Judith walked forward with her aunt, and Jamie lagged. Occasionally +his sister turned her head to reassure herself that he had not given +them the slip; otherwise she attended as closely as she was able to +the instructions and exhortations of her aunt. She and her brother +were to be lodged temporarily at Uncle Zachie's, that is to say, with +Mr. Menaida, an elderly, somewhat eccentric man, who occupied a double +cottage at the little hamlet of Polzeath. No final arrangement as to +the destination of the orphans could be made till Aunt Dunes knew the +result of the sale, and how much remained to the children after the +father's trifling debts had been paid, and the considerable slice had +been cut out of it by the valuers for dilapidations. Mrs. Trevisa +talked fast in her harsh tones, and in a loud voice, without +undulation or softness in it, and expected her niece to hear and give +account for everything she told her, goading her to attention with a +sharp reminder when she deemed that her mind was relaxed, and whipping +her thoughts together when she found them wandering. But, indeed, it +was not possible to forget for one moment the presence and personality +of Dionysia, though the subject of her discourse might be unnoticed. + +Every fibre of Judith's heart was strung and strained to the +uttermost, to acutest feeling, and a sympathetic hand drawn across +them would have produced a soft, thrilling, musical wail. Her bosom +was so full to overflow that a single word of kindness, a look even +that told of love, would have sufficed to make the child cast herself +in a convulsion of grief into her aunt's arms, bury her face in her +bosom, and weep out her pent-up tears. Then, after perhaps half an +hour, she would have looked up through the rain into her aunt's face, +and have smiled, and have loved that aunt passionately, +self-sacrificingly, to her dying day. She was disposed to love +her--for was not Dionysia the only relative she had; and was she not +the very sister of that father who had been to her so much? But Mrs. +Trevisa was not the woman to touch the taught cords with a light hand, +or to speak or look in love. She was hard, angular, unsympathetic; and +her manner, the intonations of her voice, her mode of address, the +very movements of her body, acted on the strained nerves as a rasping +file, that would fret till it had torn them through. + +Suddenly round a corner, where the narrow road turned, two hundred +yards ahead, dashed a rider on a black steed, and Judith immediately +recognized Coppinger on his famous mare Black Bess; a mare much talked +of, named after the horse ridden by Dick Turpin. The recognition was +mutual. He knew her instantly; with a jerk of the rein and a set of +the brow he showed that he was not indifferent. + +Coppinger wore his slouched hat, tied under his chin and beard, a +necessary precaution in that gale-swept country; on his feet to his +knees were high boots. He wore a blue knitted jersey, and a red +kerchief about his throat. + +Captain Cruel slightly slackened his pace, as the lane was narrow; and +as he rode past his dark brow was knit, and his eyes flashed angrily +at Judith. He deigned neither a glance nor a word to his housekeeper, +who courtesied and assumed a fawning expression. + +When he had passed the two women he dug his spurs into Black Bess and +muttered some words they did not hear. + +Judith, who had stood aside, now came forward into the midst of the +roadway and rejoined her aunt, who began to say something, when her +words and Judith's attention was arrested by shouts, oaths, and cries +in their rear. + +Judith and her aunt turned to discover the occasion of this +disturbance, and saw that Coppinger was off his horse, on his feet, +dragging the brute by the rein, and was hurling his crop, or +hunting-whip, as he pursued Jamie flying from him with cries of +terror. But that he held the horse and could not keep up with the boy, +Jamie would have suffered severely, for Coppinger was in a livid fury. + +Jamie flew to his sister. + +"Save me, Ju! he wants to kill me." + +"What have you done?" + +"It is only the buttons." + +"Buttons, dear?" + +But the boy was too frightened to explain. + +Then Judith drew her brother behind her, took from him the basket he +was carrying, and stepped to encounter the angry man, who came on, now +struggling with his horse, cursing Bess because she drew back, then +plunging forward with his whip above his head brandished menacingly, +and by this conduct further alarmed Black Bess. + +Judith met Coppinger, and he was forced to stay his forward course. + +"What has he done?" asked the girl. "Why do you threaten?" + +"The cursed idiot has strewn bits of glass and buttons along the +road," answered the Captain, angrily. "Stand aside that I may lash +him, and teach him to frighten horses and endanger men's lives." + +"I am sorry for what Jamie has done. I will pick up the things he has +thrown down." + +Cruel Coppinger's eyes glistened with wrath. He gathered the lash of +his whip into his palm along with the handle, and gripped them +passionately. + +"Curse the fool! My Bess was frightened, dashed up the bank, and all +but rolled over. Do you know he might have killed me?" + +"You must excuse him; he is a very child." + +"I will not excuse him. I will cut the flesh off his back if I catch +him." + +He put the end of the crop handle into his mouth, and, putting his +right hand behind him, gathered the reins up shorter and wound them +more securely about his left hand. + +Judith walked backward, facing him, and he turned with his horse and +went after her. She stooped and gathered up a splinter of glass. The +sun striking through the gaps in the hedge had flashed on these scraps +of broken mirror and of white bone, or burnished brass buttons, and +the horse had been frightened at them. As Judith stooped and took up +now a buckle, then a button, and then some other shining trifle, she +hardly for an instant withdrew her eyes from Coppinger; they had in +them the same dauntless defiance as when she encountered him on the +stairs of the rectory. But now it was she who retreated, step by step, +and he who advanced, and yet he could not flatter himself that he was +repelling her. She maintained her strength and mastery unbroken as she +retreated. + +"Why do you look at me so? Why do you walk backward?" + +"Because I mistrust you. I do not know what you might do were I not to +confront you." + +"What I might do? What do you think I would do?" + +"I cannot tell. I mistrust you." + +"Do you think me capable of lashing at you with my crop?" + +"I think you capable of anything." + +"Flattering that!" he shouted, angrily. + +"You would have lashed at Jamie." + +"And why not? He might have killed me." + +"He might have killed you, but you should not have touched him--not +have thought of touching him." + +"Indeed! Why not?" + +"Why not?" She raised herself upright and looked straight into his +eyes, in which fire flickered, flared, then decayed, then flared +again. + +"You are no Dane, or you would not have asked 'Why not?' twice. Nay, +you would not have asked it once." + +"Not a Dane?" His beard and mustache were quivering, and he snorted +with anger. + +"A Dane, I have read in history, is too noble and brave to threaten +women and to strike children." + +He uttered an oath and ground his teeth. + +"No; a Dane would never have thought of asking why not?--why not lash +a poor little silly boy?" + +"You insult me! You dare to do it?" + +Her blood was surging in her heart. As she looked into this man's dark +and evil face she thought of all the distress he had caused her +father, and a wave of loathing swept over her, nerved her to defy him +to the uttermost, and to proclaim all the counts she had against him. + +"I dare do it," she said, "because you made my own dear papa's life +full of bitterness and pain----" + +"I! I never touched him, hardly spoke to him. I don't care to have to +do with parsons." + +"You made his life one of sorrow through your godless, lawless ways, +leading his poor flock astray, and bidding them mock at his warnings +and despise his teachings. Almost with his last breath he spoke of +you, and the wretchedness of heart you had caused him. And then you +dared--yes--you dared--you dared to burst into our house where he lay +dead, with shameful insolence to disturb its peace. And now--" she +gasped, "and now, ah! you lie when you say you are a Dane, and talk of +cutting and lashing the dead father's little boy on his father's +burial day. You are but one thing I can name--a coward!" + +Did he mean it? No! But blinded, stung to madness by her words, +especially that last, he raised his right arm with the crop. + +Did she mean it? No! But in the instinct of self-preservation, +thinking he was about to strike her, she dashed the basket of buttons +in his face, and they flew right and left over him, against the head +of Black Bess, a rain of fragments of mirror, brass, steel, +mother-of-pearl, and bone. + +The effect was instantaneous. The mare plunged, reared, threw +Coppinger backward from off his feet, dashed him to the ground, +dragged him this way, that way, bounded, still drawing him about by +the twisted reins, into the hedge, then back, with her hoofs upon him, +near, if not on, his head, his chest--then, released by the snap of +the rein, or through its becoming disengaged, Bess darted down the +lane, was again brought to a standstill by the glittering fragments on +the ground, turned, rushed back in the direction whence she had come, +and disappeared. + +Judith stood panting, paralyzed with fear and dismay. Was he dead, +broken to pieces, pounded by those strong hoofs? + +He was not dead. He was rolling himself on the ground, struggling +clumsily to his knees. + +"Are you satisfied?" he shouted, glaring at her like a wild beast +through his tangled black hair that had fallen over his face. "I +cannot strike you nor your brother now. My arm and the Lord knows what +other bones are broken. You have done that--and I owe you something +for it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +UNCLE ZACHIE. + + +The astonishment, the consternation of Mrs. Trevisa at what had +occurred, which she could not fully comprehend, took from her the +power to speak. She had seen her niece in conversation with Cruel +Coppinger, and had caught snatches of what had passed between them. +All his words had reached her, and some of Judith's. When, suddenly, +she saw the girl dash the basket of buttons in the face of the +Captain, saw him thrown to the ground, drawn about by his frantic +horse, and left, as she thought, half dead, her dismay was unbounded. +It might have been that Coppinger threatened Judith with his whip, but +nothing could excuse her temerity in resisting him, in resisting him +and protecting herself in the way she did. The consequences of that +resistance she could not measure. Coppinger was bruised, bones were +broken, and Aunt Dionysia knew the nature of the man too well not to +expect his deadly animosity, and to feel sure of implacable revenge +against the girl who had injured him--a revenge that would envelop all +who belonged to her, and would therefore strike herself. + +The elderly spinster had naturally plenty of strength and hardness +that would bear her through most shocks without discomposure, but such +an incident as that which had just taken place before her eyes +entirely unnerved and dismayed her. + +Coppinger was conveyed home by men called to the spot, and Mrs. +Trevisa walked on with her niece and nephew in silence to the house of +Mr. Zachary Menaida. Jamie had escaped over the hedge, to put a +stone-and-earth barrier between himself and his assailant directly +Judith interposed between him and Coppinger. Now that the latter was +gone, he came, laughing, over the hedge again. To him what had +occurred was fun. + +At Menaida's the aunt departed, leaving her nephew and niece with the +old man, that she might hurry to Pentyre Glaze and provide what was +needed for Coppinger. She took no leave of Judith. In the haze of +apprehension that enveloped her mind glowed anger against the girl for +having increased her difficulties and jeopardized her position with +Coppinger. + +Mr. Zachary Menaida was an old man, or rather a man who had passed +middle age, with grizzled hair that stood up above his brow, +projecting like the beak of a ship or the horn of an unicorn. He had a +big nose inclined to redness, and kindly, watery eyes, was close +shaven, and had lips that, whenever he was in perplexity, or worried +with work or thought, he thrust forward and curled. He was a +middle-statured man, inclined to stoop. + +Uncle Zachie, as he was commonly called behind his back, was a +gentleman by birth. In the Roman Catholic Church there is a religious +order called that of Minims. In England we have, perhaps, the most +widely-diffused of orders, not confined to religion--it is that of +Crotchets. To this order Mr. Menaida certainly belonged. He was made +up of hobbies and prejudices that might bore, but never hurt others. + +Probably the most difficult achievement one can conceive for a man to +execute is to stand in his own light; yet Mr. Menaida had succeeded in +doing this all through his life. In the first place, he had been bred +up for the law, but had never applied himself to the duties of the +profession to which he had been articled. As he had manifested as a +boy a love of music, his mother and sister had endeavored to make him +learn to play on an instrument; but, because so urged, he had refused +to qualify himself to play on pianoforte, violin, or flute, till his +fingers had stiffened, whereupon he set to work zealously to practise, +when it was no longer possible for him to acquire even tolerable +proficiency. + +As he had been set by his father to work on skins of parchment, he +turned his mind to skins of another sort, and became an eager +naturalist and taxidermist. + +That he had genius, or rather a few scattered sparks of talent in his +muddled brain, was certain. Every one who knew him said he was clever, +but pitied his inability to turn his cleverness to purpose. But one +must take into consideration, before accepting the general verdict +that he was clever, the intellectual abilities of those who formed +this judgment. When we do this, we doubt much whether their opinion is +worth much. Mr. Menaida was not clever. He had flashes of wit, no +steady light of understanding. Above all, he had no application, a +little of which might have made him a useful member of society. + +When his articleship was over he set up as a solicitor, but what +business was offered him he neglected or mismanaged, till business +ceased to be offered. He would have starved had not a small annuity of +fifty pounds been left him to keep the wolf from the door, and that he +was able to supplement this small income with money made by the sale +of his stuffed specimens of sea-fowl. Taxidermy was the only art in +which he was able to do anything profitable. He loved to observe the +birds, to wander on the cliffs listening to their cries, watching +their flight, their positions when at rest, the undulations in their +feathers under the movement of the muscles as they turned their heads +or raised their feet; and when he set himself to stuff the skins he +was able to imitate the postures and appearance of living birds with +rare fidelity. Consequently his specimens were in request, and +ornithologists and country gentlemen whose game-keepers had shot rare +birds desired to have the skins dealt with, and set in cases, by the +dexterous fingers of Mr. Zachary Menaida. He might have done more work +of the same kind, but that his ingrained inactivity and distaste for +work limited his output. In certain cases Mr. Menaida would not do +what was desired of him till coaxed and flattered, and then he did it +grumblingly and with sighs at being subjected to killing toil. + +Mr. Menaida was a widower; his married life had not been long; he had +been left with a son, now grown to manhood, who was no longer at home. +He was abroad, in Portugal, in the service of a Bristol merchant, an +importer of wines. + +As already said, Uncle Zachie did not begin the drudgery of music till +it was too late for him to acquire skill on any instrument. His +passion for music grew with his inability to give himself pleasure +from it. He occupied a double cottage at Polzeath, and a hole knocked +through the wall that had separated the lower rooms enabled him to +keep his piano in one room and his bird-stuffing apparatus in the +other, and to run from one to the other in his favorite desultory way, +that never permitted him to stick to one thing at a time. + +Into this house Judith and her brother were introduced. Mr. Menaida +had been attached to the late rector, the only other gentleman in +culture, as in birth, that lived in the place, and when he was told by +Miss--or, as she was usually called, Mrs.--Trevisa that the children +must leave the parsonage and be put temporarily with some one +suitable, and that no other suitable house was available, he consented +without making much objection to receive them into his cottage. He was +a kindly man, gentle at heart, and he was touched at the bereavement +of the children whom he had known since they were infants. + +After the first salutation Mr. Menaida led Judith and the boy into his +parlor, the room opening out of his workshop. + +"Look here," said he, "what is that?" He pointed to his piano. + +"A piano, sir," answered Judith. + +"Yes--and mind you, I hate strumming, though I love music. When I am +in, engaged at my labors, no strumming. I come in here now and then as +relaxation, and run over this and that; then, refreshed, go back to my +work, but, if there is any strumming, I shall be put out. I shall run +my knife or needle into my hand, and it will upset me for the day. You +understand--no strumming. When I am out, then you may touch the keys, +but only when I am out. You understand clearly? Say the words after +me: 'I allow no strumming.'" + +Judith did as required. The same was exacted of Jamie. Then Mr. +Menaida said-- + +"Very well; now we shall have a dish of tea. I daresay you are tired. +Dear me, you look so. Goodness bless me! indeed you do. What has tired +you has been the trial you have gone through. Poor things, poor +things! There, go to your rooms; my maid, Jump, will show you where +they are, and I will see about making tea. It will do you good. You +want it. I see it." + +The kind-hearted man ran about. + +"Bless my soul! where have I put the key of the caddy? And--really--my +fingers are all over arsenical soap. I think I will leave Jump to make +the tea. Jump, have you seen where I put the key? Bless my soul! +where did I have it last? Never mind; I will break open the caddy." + +"Please, Mr. Menaida, do not do that for us. We can very well wait +till the key is found." + +"Oh! I don't know when that will be. I shall have forgotten about it +if I do not find the key at once, or break open the caddy. But, if you +prefer it, I have some cherry-brandy, or I would give you some +milk-punch." + +"No--no, indeed, Mr. Menaida." + +"But Jamie--I am sure he looks tired. A little cherry-brandy to draw +the threads in him together. And suffer me, though not a doctor, to +recommend it to you. Bless my soul! my fingers are all over arsenical +soap. If I don't have some cherry-brandy myself I shall have the +arsenic get into my system. I hope you have no cuts or scratches on +your hand. I forgot the arsenic when I shook hands with you. Now, look +here, Jump, bring in the saffron cake, and I will cut them each a good +hunch. It will do you good, on my word it will. I have not spared +either figs or saffron, and then--I will help you, as I love you. Come +and see my birds. That is a cormorant--a splendid fellow--looks as if +run out of metal, all his plumage, you know, and in the attitude as if +swallowing a fish. Do you see!--the morsel is going down his throat. +And--how much luggage have you? Jump! show the young lady where she +can put away her gowns and all that sort of thing. Oh, not come yet? +All right--a lady and her dresses are not long parted. They will be +here soon. Now, then. What will you have?--some cold beef--and cider? +Upon my soul!--you must excuse me. I was just wiring that kittiwake. +Excuse me--I shall be ready in a moment. In the meantime there are +books--Rollin's 'Ancient History,' a very reliable book. No--upon my +word, my mind is distracted. I cannot get that kittiwake right without +a glass of port. I have some good port. Oliver guarantees it--from +Portugal, you know. He is there--first-rate business, and will make +his fortune, which is more than his father ever did." + +Mr. Menaida went to a closet, and produced a bottle. + +"Come here, Jamie. I know what is good for you." + +"No--please, Mr. Menaida, do not. He has not been accustomed to +anything of the sort. Please not, sir." + +"Fudge!" said Uncle Zachie, holding up a glass and pouring +cherry-brandy into it. "What is your age?--seventeen or eighteen, and +I am fifty-two. I have over thirty years' more experience of the world +than you. Jamie, don't be tied to your sister's apron-string. I know +what is best for you. Girls drink water, men something better. Come +here, Jamie!" + +"No, sir--I beseech you." + +"Bless my soul! I know what is good for him. Come to me, Jamie. Look +the other way, Judith, if I cannot persuade you." + +Judith sighed, and covered her face with her hands. There was to be no +help, no support in Uncle Zachie. On the contrary, he would break down +her power over Jamie. + +"Jamie," she said, "if you love me, go up-stairs." + +"Presently, Ju. I want that first." And he took it, ran to his sister, +and said: + +"It is good, Ju!" + +"You have disobeyed me, Jamie--that is bad." + +She stood on the threshold of further trouble, and she knew it. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +A VISIT. + + +No sleep visited Judith's eyes that night till the first streaks of +dawn appeared, though she was weary, and her frail body and +over-exerted brain needed the refreshment of sleep. But sleep she +could not, for cares were gathering upon her. + +She had often heard her father, when speaking of Mr. Menaida, lament +that he was not a little more self-controlled in his drinking. It was +not that the old fellow ever became inebriated, but that he hankered +after the bottle, and was wont to take a nip continually to strengthen +his nerves, steady his hand, or clear his brain. There was ever ready +some excuse satisfactory to his own conscience; and it was due to +these incessant applications to the bottle that his hand shook, his +eyes became watery, and his nose red. It was a danger Judith must +guard against, lest this trick should be picked up by the childish +Jamie, always apt to imitate what he should not, and acquire habits +easily gained, hardly broken, that were harmful to himself. Uncle +Zachie, in his good-nature, would lead the boy after him into the same +habits that marred his own life. + +This was one thought that worked like a mole all night in Judith's +brain; but she had other troubles as well to keep her awake. She was +alarmed at the consequences of her conduct in the lane. She wondered +whether Coppinger were more seriously hurt than had at first appeared. +She asked herself whether she had not acted wrongly when she acted +inconsiderately, whether in her precipitation to protect herself she +had not misjudged Coppinger, whether, if he had attempted to strike +her, it would not have been a lesser evil to receive the blow, than to +ward it off in such a manner as to break his bones. Knowing by report +the character of the man, she feared that she had incurred his deadly +animosity. He could not, that she could see, hurt herself in the +execution of his resentment, but he might turn her aunt out of his +house. That she had affronted her aunt she was aware; Mrs. Trevisa's +manner in parting with her had shown that with sufficient plainness. + +A strange jumble of sounds on the piano startled Judith. Her first +thought and fear were that her brother had gone to the instrument, and +was amusing himself on the keys. But on listening attentively she was +aware that there was sufficient sequence in the notes to make it +certain that the performer was a musician, though lacking in facility +of execution. She descended the stairs and entered the little +sitting-room. Uncle Zachie was seated on the music-stool, and was +endeavoring to play a sonata of Beethoven that was vastly beyond the +capacity of his stiff-jointed fingers. Whenever he made a false note +he uttered a little grunt and screwed up his eyes, endeavored to play +the bar again, and perhaps accomplish it only to break down in the +next. + +Judith did not venture to interrupt him. She took up some knitting, +and seated herself near the piano, where he might see her without her +disturbing him. He raised his brows, grunted, floundered into false +harmony, and exclaimed, "Bless me! how badly they do print music +nowadays. Who, without the miraculous powers of a prophet, could tell +that B should be natural?" Then, turning his head over his shoulder, +addressed Judith, "Good-morning, missie. Are you fond of music?" + +"Yes, sir, very." + +"So you think. Everyone says he or she is fond of music, because that +person can hammer out a psalm tune or play the 'Rogue's March.' I hate +to hear those who call themselves musical strum on a piano. They can't +feel, they only execute." + +"But they can play their notes correctly," said Judith, and then +flushed with vexation at having made this pointed and cutting remark. +But it did not cause Mr. Menaida to wince. + +"What of that? I give not a thank-you for mere literal music-reading. +Call Jump, set 'Shakespeare' before her, and she will hammer out a +scene--correctly as to words; but where is the sense? Where the life? +You must play with the spirit and play with the understanding also, +as you must read with the spirit and read with the understanding also. +It is the same thing with bird-stuffing. Any fool can ram tow into a +skin and thrust wires into the neck, but what is the result? You must +stuff birds with the spirit and stuff with the understanding also--or +it is naught." + +"I suppose it is the same with everything one does--one must do it +heartily and intelligently." + +"Exactly! Now you should see my boy, Oliver. Have you ever met him?" + +"I think I have; but, to be truthful, I do not recollect him, sir." + +"I will bring you his likeness--in miniature. It is in the next room." +Up jumped Mr. Menaida, and ran through the opening in the wall, and +returned in another moment with the portrait, and gave it into +Judith's hands. + +"A fine fellow is Oliver! Look at his nose how straight it is. Not +like mine--that is a pump-handle. He got his good looks from his +mother, not from me. Ah!" He reseated himself at the piano, and +ran--incorrectly--over a scale. "It is all the pleasure I have in +life, to think of my boy, and to look at his picture, and read his +letters, and drink the port he sends me--first-rate stuff. He writes +admirable letters, and never a month passes but I receive one. It +would come expensive if he wrote direct, so his letter is enclosed in +the business papers sent to the house at Bristol, and they forward it +to me. You shall read his last--out loud. It will give me a pleasure +to hear it read by you." + +"If I read properly, Mr. Menaida--with the spirit and with the +understanding." + +"Exactly! But you could not fail to do that looking at the cheerful +face in the miniature, and reading his words--pleasant and bright as +himself. Pity you have not seen him; well, that makes something to +live for. He has dark hair and blue eyes--not often met together, and +when associated, very refreshing. Wait! I'll go after the letter: +only, bless my soul! where is it? What coat did I have on when I read +it? I'll call Jump. She may remember. Wait! do you recall this?" + +He stumbled over something on the keys which might have been anything. + +"It is Haydn. I will tell you what I think: Mozart I delight in as a +companion; Beethoven I revere as a master; but Haydn I love as a +friend. You were about to say something?" + +Judith had set an elbow on the piano and put her hand to her head, her +fingers through the hair, and was looking into Uncle Zachie's face +with an earnestness he could not mistake. She did desire to say +something to him; but if she waited till he gave her an opportunity +she might wait a long time. He jumped from one subject to another with +alacrity, and with rapid forgetfulness of what he was last speaking +about. + +"Oh, sir, I am so very, very grateful to you for having received us +into your snug little house----" + +"You like it? Well, I only pay seven pounds for it. Cheap, is it not? +Two cottages--laborers' cottages--thrown together. Well, I might go +farther and fare worse." + +"And, Mr. Menaida, I venture to ask you another favor, which, if you +will grant me, you will lay me under an eternal obligation." + +"You may command me, my dear." + +"It is only this: not to let Jamie have anything stronger than a glass +of cider. I do not mind his having that; but a boy like him does not +need what is, no doubt, wanted by you who are getting old. I am so +afraid of the habit growing on him of looking for and liking what is +too strong for him. He is such a child, so easily led, and so unable +to control himself. It may be a fancy, a prejudice of mine"--she +passed her nervous hand over her face--"I do hope I am not offending +you, dear Mr. Menaida; but I know Jamie so well, and I know how +carefully he must be watched and checked. If it be a silly fancy of +mine--and perhaps it is only a silly fancy--yet," she put on a +pleading tone, "you will humor me in this, will you not, Mr. Menaida?" + +"Bless my soul! you have only to express a wish and I will fulfil it. +For myself, you must know, I am a little weak; I feel a chill when the +wind turns north or east, and am always relaxed when it is in the +south or west; that forces me to take something just to save me from +serious inconvenience, you understand." + +"Oh quite, sir." + +"And then--confound it!--I am goaded on to work when disinclined. Why, +there's a letter come to me now from Plymouth--a naturalist there, +asking for more birds; and what can I do? I slave, I am at it all day, +half the night; I have no time to eat or sleep. I was not born to +stuff birds. I take it as an amusement, a pastime, and it is converted +into a toil. I must brace up my exhausted frame; it is necessary to my +health, you understand!" + +"Oh, yes, Mr. Menaida. And you really will humor my childish whim?" + +"Certainly, you may rely on me." + +"That is one thing I wanted to say. You see, sir, we have but just +come into your house, and already, last night, Jamie was tempted to +disobey me, and take what I thought unadvisable, so--I have been +turning it over and over in my head--I thought I would like to come to +a clear understanding with you, Mr. Menaida. It seems ungracious in +me, but you must pity me. I have now all responsibility for Jamie on +my head, and I have to do what my conscience tells me I should do; +only, I pray you, do not take offence at what I have said." + +"Fudge! my dear; you are right, I dare say." + +"And now that I have your promise--I have that, have I not?" + +"Yes, certainly." + +"Now I want your opinion, if you will kindly give it me. I have no +father, no mother, to go to for advice; and so I venture to appeal to +you--it is about Captain Coppinger." + +"Captain Coppinger!" repeated Uncle Zachie, screwing up his brows and +mouth. "Umph! He is a bold man who can give help against Captain +Coppinger, and a strong man as well as bold. How has he wronged you?" + +"Oh! he has not wronged me. It is I who have hurt him." + +"You--you!" Uncle Zachie laughed. "A little creature such as you could +not hurt Captain Cruel!" + +"But, indeed, I have; I have thrown him down and broken his arms and +some of his bones." + +"You--you?" Uncle Zachie's face of astonishment and dismay was so +comical that Judith, in spite of her anxiety and exhaustion, smiled; +but the smile was without brightness. + +"And pray, how in the name of wonder did you do that? Upon my word, +you will deserve the thanks of the Preventive men. They have no love +for him; they have old scores they would gladly wipe off with a broken +arm, or, better still, a cracked skull. And pray how did you do this? +With the flour-roller?" + +"No, sir, I will tell you the whole story." + +Then, in its true sequence, with great clearness, she related the +entire narrative of events. She told how her father, even with his +last breath, had spoken of Coppinger as the man who had troubled his +life by marring his work; how that the Captain had entered the +parsonage without ceremony when her dear father was lying dead +up-stairs, and how he had called there boisterously for Aunt Dionysia +because he wanted something of her. She told the old man how that her +own feelings had been wrought, by this affront, into anger against +Coppinger. Then she related the incident in the lane, and how that, +when he raised his arm against her, she had dashed the buttons into +his face, frightened his horse, and so produced an accident that might +have cost the Captain his life. + +"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "and what do you want? Is it +an assault? I will run to my law-books and find out; I don't know that +it can quite be made out a case of misadventure." + +"It is not that, sir." + +"Then what do you want?" + +"I have been racking my head to think what I ought to do under the +circumstances. There can be no doubt that I aggravated him. I was very +angry, both because he had been a trouble to my darling papa, and then +because he had been so insolent as to enter our house and shout for +Aunt Dunes; but there was something more--he had tried to beat Jamie, +and it was my father's day of burial. All that roused a bad spirit in +me, and I did say very bad words to him--words a man of metal would +not bear from even a child, and I suppose I really did lash him to +madness, and he would have struck me--but perhaps not, he might have +thought better of it. I provoked him, and then I brought about what +happened. I have been considering what I ought to do. If I remain here +and take no notice, then he will think me very unfeeling, and that I +do not care that I have hurt him in mind and body. It came into my +head last night that I would ask aunt to apologize to him for what I +had done, or, better still, should aunt not come here to-day, which is +very likely, that I might walk with Jamie to Pentyre and inquire how +Captain Coppinger is, and send in word by my aunt that I am +sorry--very sorry." + +"Upon my soul, I don't know what to say. I could not have done this to +Coppinger myself for a good deal of money. I think if I had, I would +get out of the place as quickly as possible, while he was crippled by +his broken bones. But then, you are a girl, and he may take it better +from you than from me. Well--yes; I think it would be advisable to +allay his anger if you can. Upon my word, you have put yourself into a +difficult position. I'll go and look at my law-books, just for my own +satisfaction." + +A heavy blow on the door, and without waiting for a response and +invitation to enter, it was thrown open, and there entered Cruel +Coppinger, his arm bandaged, tied in splints, and bound to his body, +with his heavy walking-stick brandished by the uninjured hand. He +stood for a moment glowering in, searching the room with his keen eyes +till they rested on Judith. Then he made an attempt to raise his hand +to his head, but ineffectually. + +"Curse it!" said he, "I cannot do it; don't tear it off my head with +your eyes, girl. Here, you Menaida, come here and take my hat off. +Come instantly, or she--she will do--the devil knows what she will not +do to me." + +He turned, and with his stick beat the door back, that it slammed +behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +A PATCHED PEACE. + + +"Look at her!" cried Coppinger, with his back against the house door, +and pointing to Judith with his stick. + +She was standing near the piano, with one hand on it, and was half +turned toward him. She was in black, but had a white kerchief about +her neck. The absence of all color in her dress heightened the lustre +of her abundant and glowing hair. + +Coppinger remained for a moment, pointing with a half sneer on his +dark face. Mr. Menaida had nervously complied with his demand, and had +removed the hat from the smuggler, and his dark hair fell about his +face. That face was livid and pale; he had evidently suffered much, +and now every movement was attended with pain. Not only had some of +his bones been broken, but he was bruised and strained. + +"Look at her!" he shouted again, in his deep commanding tones, and he +fixed his fierce eyes on her and knitted his brows. She remained +immovable, awaiting what he had to say. Though there was a flutter in +her bosom, her hand on the piano did not shake. + +"I am very sorry, Captain Coppinger," said Judith, in a low, sweet +voice, in which there was but a slight tremulousness. "I profess that +I believe I acted wrongly yesterday, and I repeat that I am +sorry--very sorry, Captain Coppinger." + +He made no reply. He lowered the stick that had been pointed at her, +and leaned on it. His hand shook because he was in pain. + +"I acted wrongly yesterday," continued Judith, "but I acted under +provocation that, if it does not justify what I did, palliates the +wrong. I can say no more--that is the exact truth." + +"Is that all?" + +"I am sorry for what was wrong in my conduct--frankly sorry that you +are hurt." + +"You hear her?" laughed Coppinger, bitterly. "A little chit like that +to speak to me thus"--then, turning sharply on her, "Are you not +afraid?" + +"No, I am not afraid; why should I be?" + +"Why? Ask any one in S. Enodoc--any one in Cornwall--who has heard my +name." + +"I beg your pardon. I do not want to ask any one else in S. Enodoc, +any one else in Cornwall. I ask you." + +"Me? You ask me why you should be afraid of me?" He paused, drew his +thick brows together till they formed a band across his forehead. "I +tell you that none has ever wronged me by a blade of grass or a flock +of wool but has paid for it a thousand-fold. And none has ever hurt me +as you have done--none has ever dared to attempt it." + +"I have said that I am sorry." + +"You talk like one cold as a mermaid. I do not believe in your +fearlessness. Why do you lean on the piano. There, touch the wires +with the very tips of your fingers, and let me hear if they give a +sound--and sound they will if you tremble." + +Judith exposed some of the wires by raising the top of the piano. Then +she smiled, and stood with the tips of her delicate fingers just +touching the chords. Coppinger listened, so did Uncle Zachie, and not +a vibration could they detect. + +Presently she withdrew her hand, and said, "Is not that enough? When a +girl says, 'I am sorry,' I supposed the chapter was done and the book +closed." + +"You have strange ideas." + +"I have those in which I was brought up by the best of fathers." + +Coppinger thrust his stick along the floor. + +"Is it due to the ideas in which you have been brought up that you are +not afraid--when you have reduced me to a wreck?" + +"And you?--are you afraid of the wreck that you have made?" + +The dark blood sprang into and suffused his whole face. Uncle Zachie +drew back against the wall and made signs to Judith not to provoke +their self-invited visitor; but she was looking steadily at the +Captain, and did not observe the signals. In Coppinger's presence she +felt nerved to stand on the defensive, and more, to attack. A threat +in his whole bearing, in his manner of addressing her, roused every +energy she possessed. + +"I tell you," said he, harshly, "if any man had used the word you +threw at me yesterday, I would have murdered him; I would have split +his skull with the handle of my crop." + +"You raised your hand to do it to me," said Judith. + +"No!" he exclaimed, violently. "It is false; come here, and let me see +if you have the courage, the fearlessness you affect. You women are +past-masters of dissembling. Come here; kneel before me and let me +raise my stick over you. See; there is lead in the handle, and with +one blow I can split your skull and dash the brains over the floor." + +Judith remained immovable. + +"I thought it--you are afraid." + +She shook her head. + +He let himself, with some pain, slowly into a chair. + +"You are afraid. You know what to expect. Ah! I could fell you and +trample on you and break your bones, as I was cast down, trampled on, +and broken in my bones yesterday--by you, or through you. Are you +afraid?" + +She took a step toward him. Then Uncle Zachie waved her back, in great +alarm. He caught Judith's attention, and she answered him, "I am not +afraid. I gave him a word I should not have given him yesterday. I +will show him that I retract it fully." Then she stepped up to +Coppinger and sank on her knees before him. He raised his whip, with +the loaded handle, brandishing it over her. + +"Now I am here," she said, "I again ask your forgiveness, but I +protest an apology is due to me." + +He threw his stick away. "By heaven, it is!" Then in an altered tone, +"Take it so, that I ask your forgiveness. Get up; do not kneel to me. +I could not have struck you down had I willed, my arm is stiff. +Perhaps you knew it." + +He rose with effort to his feet again. Judith drew back to her former +position by the piano, two hectic spots of flame were in her cheek, +and her eyes were preternaturally bright. + +Coppinger looked steadily at her for a while, then he said, "Are you +ill? You look as if you were." + +"I have had much to go through of late." + +"True." + +He remained looking at her, brooding over something in his mind. She +perplexed him; he wondered at her. He could not comprehend the spirit +that was in her, that sustained a delicate little frame, and made her +defy him. + +His eyes wandered round the room, and he signed to Uncle Zachie to +give him his stick again. + +"What is that?" said he, pointing to the miniature on the stand for +music, where Mr. Menaida had put it, over a sheet of the music he had +been playing, or attempting to play. + +"It is my son, Oliver," said Uncle Zachie. + +"Why is it there? Has she been looking at it? Let me see it." + +Mr. Menaida hesitated, but presently handed it to the redoubted +Captain, with nervous twitches in his face. "I value it highly--my +only child." + +Coppinger looked at it, with a curl of his lips; then handed it back +to Mr. Menaida. + +"Why is it here?" + +"I brought it here to show it her. I am very proud of my son," said +Uncle Zachie. + +Coppinger was in an irritable mood, captious about trifles. Why did he +ask questions about this little picture? Why look suspiciously at +Judith as he did so--suspiciously and threateningly? + +"Do you play on the piano?" asked Coppinger. "When the evil spirit was +on Saul, David struck the harp and sent the spirit away. Let me hear +how you can touch the notes. It may do me good. Heaven knows it is not +often I have the leisure, or the occasion, or am in the humor for +music. I would hear what you can do." + +Judith looked at Uncle Zachie. + +"I cannot play," she said; "that is to say, I can play, but not now, +and on this piano." + +But Mr. Menaida interfered and urged her to play. He was afraid of +Coppinger. + +She seated herself on the music-stool and considered for a moment. The +miniature was again on the stand. Coppinger put out his stick and +thrust it off, and it would have fallen had not Judith caught it. She +gave it to Mr. Menaida, who hastily carried it into the adjoining +room, where the sight of it might no longer irritate the Captain. + +"What shall I play? I mean, strum?" asked Judith, looking at Uncle +Zachie. "Beethoven! No--Haydn. Here are his 'Seasons.' I can play +'Spring.'" + +She had a light, but firm touch. Her father had been a man of great +musical taste, and he had instructed her. But she had, moreover, the +musical faculty in her, and she played with the spirit and with the +understanding also. Wondrous is the power of music, passing that of +fabled necromancy. It takes a man up out of his most sordid +surroundings, and sets him in heavenly places. It touches fibres of +the inner nature, lost, forgotten, ignored, and makes them thrill with +a new life. It seals the eyes to outward sights, and unfurls new +vistas full of transcendental beauty; it breathes over hot wounds and +heals them; it calls to the surface springs of pure delight, and bids +them gush forth in an arid desert. + +It was so now, as, under the sympathetic fingers of Judith, Haydn's +song of the "Spring" was sung. A May world arose in that little dingy +room; the walls fell back and disclosed green woods thick with red +robin and bursting bluebells, fields golden with buttercups, hawthorns +clothed in flower, from which sang the blackbird, thrush, the finch, +and the ouzel. The low ceiling rose and overarched as the speed-well +blue vault of heaven, the close atmosphere was dispelled by a waft of +crisp, pure air; shepherds piped, Boy Blue blew his horn, and +milkmaids rattled their pails and danced a ballet on the turf; and +over all, down into every corner of the soul, streamed the glorious, +golden sun, filling the heart with gladness. + +Uncle Zachie had been standing at the door leading into his workshop, +hesitating whether to remain, with a pish! and a pshaw! or to fly away +beyond hearing. But he was arrested, then drawn lightly, irresistibly, +step by step, toward the piano, and he noiselessly sank upon a chair, +with his eyes fixed on Judith's fingers as they danced over the keys. +His features assumed a more refined character as he listened; the +water rose into his eyes, his lips quivered, and when, before reaching +the end of the piece, Judith faltered and stopped, he laid his hand on +her wrist and said: "My dear--you play, you do not strum. Play when +you will--never can it be too long, too much for me. It may steady my +hand, it may dispel the chill and the damp better than--but never +mind--never mind." + +Why had Judith failed to accomplish the piece? Whilst engaged on the +notes she had felt that the searching, beaming eyes of the smuggler +were on her, fixed with fierce intensity. She could meet them, looking +straight at him, without shrinking, and without confusion, but to be +searched by them whilst off her guard, her attention engaged on her +music, was what she could not endure. + +Coppinger made no remark on what he had heard, but his face gave token +that the music had not swept across him without stirring and softening +his hard nature. + +"How long is she to be here with you?" he asked, turning to Uncle +Zachie. + +"Captain, I cannot tell. She and her brother had to leave the rectory. +They could not remain in that house alone. Mrs. Trevisa asked me to +lodge them here, and I consented. I knew their father." + +"She did not ask me. I would have taken them in." + +"Perhaps she was diffident of doing that," said Uncle Zachie. "But +really, on my word, it is no inconvenience to me. I have room in this +house, and my maid, Jump, has not enough to do to attend on me." + +"When you are tired of them send them to me." + +"I am not likely to be tired of Judith, now that I have heard her +play." + +"Judith--is that her name?" + +"Yes--Judith." + +"Judith!" he repeated, and thrust his stick along the floor, +meditatively. "Judith!" Then, after a pause, with his eyes on the +ground, "Why did not your aunt speak to me! Why does she not love +you?--she does not, I know. Why did she not go to see you when your +father was alive! Why did you not come to the Glaze?" + +"My dear papa did not wish me to go to your house," said Judith, +answering one of his many questions, the last, and perhaps the easiest +to reply to. + +"Why not?" he glanced up at her, then down on the floor again. + +"Papa was not very pleased with Aunt Dunes--it was no fault on either +side, only a misunderstanding," said Judith. + +"Why did he not let you come to my house to salute your aunt?" + +Judith hesitated. He again looked up at her searchingly. + +"If you really must know the truth, Captain Coppinger, papa thought +your house was hardly one to which to send two children--it was said +to harbor such wild folk." + +"And he did not know how fiercely and successfully you could defend +yourself against wild folk," said Coppinger, with a harsh laugh. "It +is we wild men that must fear you, for you dash us about and bruise +and break us when displeased with our ways. We are not so bad at the +Glaze as we are painted, not by a half--here is my hand on it." + +Judith was still seated on the music-stool, her hands resting in her +lap. Coppinger came toward her, walking stiffly, and extending his +palm. + +She looked down in her lap. What did this fierce, strange man, mean? + +"Will you give me your hand?" he asked. "Is there peace between us?" + +She was doubtful what to say. He remained, awaiting her answer. + +"I really do not know what reply to make," she said, after awhile. "Of +course, so far as I'm concerned, it is peace. I have myself no quarrel +with you, and you are good enough to say that you forgive me." + +"Then why not peace?" + +Again she let him wait before answering. She was uneasy and unhappy. +She wanted neither his goodwill nor his hostility. + +"In all that affects me, I bear you no ill-will," she said, in a low, +tremulous voice; "but in that you were a grief to my dear, dear +father, discouraging his heart, I cannot be forgetful, and so full of +charity as to blot it out as though it had not been." + +"Then let it be a patched peace--a peace with evasions and +reservations. Better that than none. Give me your hand." + +"On that understanding," said Judith, and laid her hand in his. His +iron fingers closed round it, and he drew her up from the stool on +which she sat, drew her forward near the window, and thrust her in +front of him. Then he raised her hand, held it by the wrist, and +looked at it. + +"It is very small, very weak," he said, musingly. + +Then there rushed over her mind the recollection of her last +conversation with her father. He, too, had taken and looked at her +hand, and had made the same remark. + +Coppinger lowered her hand and his, and, looking at her, said: + +"You are very wonderful to me." + +"I--why so?" + +He did not answer, but let go his hold of her, and turned away to the +door. + +Judith saw that he was leaving, and she hastened to bring him his +stick, and she opened the door for him. + +"I thank you," he said, turned, pointed his stick at her, and added, +"It is peace--though a patched one." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +C. C. + + +Days ensued, not of rest to body, but of relaxation to mind. Judith's +overstrained nerves had now given them a period of numbness, a sleep +of sensibility with occasional turnings and wakenings, in which they +recovered their strength. She and Jamie were settled into their rooms +at Mr. Menaida's, and the hours were spent in going to and from the +rectory removing their little treasures to the new home--if a +temporary place of lodging could be called a home--and in arranging +them there. + +There were a good many farewells to be taken, and Judith marvelled +sometimes at the insensibility with which she said them--farewells to +a thousand nooks and corners of the house and garden, the shrubbery, +and the glebe farm, all endeared by happy recollections, now having +their brightness dashed with rain. + +To Judith this was a first revelation of the mutability of things on +earth. Hitherto, as a child, with a child's eyes and a child's +confidence, she had regarded the rectory, the glebe, the contents of +the house, the flowers in the garden, as belonging inalienably to her +father and brother and herself. They belonged to them together. There +was nothing that was her father's that did not belong to Jamie and to +her, nothing of her brother's or her own that was not likewise the +property of papa. There was no mine or thine in that little family of +love--save only a few birthday presents given from one to the other, +and these only special property by a playful concession. But now the +dear father was gone, and every right seemed to dissolve. From the +moment that he leaned back against the brick, lichen-stained wall, and +sighed--and was dead, house and land had been snatched from them. And +though the contents of the rectory, the books, and the furniture, and +the china belonged to them, it was but for a little while; these +things must be parted with also, turned into silver. + +Not because the money was needed, but because Judith had no settled +home, and no prospect of one. Therefore she must not encumber herself +with many belongings. For a little while she would lodge with Mr. +Menaida, but she could not live there forever; she must remove +elsewhere, and she must consider, in the first place, that there was +not room in Uncle Zachie's cottage for accumulations of furniture, and +that, in the next place, she would probably have to part with them on +her next remove, even if she did retain them for a while. + +If these things were to be parted with, it would be advisable to part +with them at once. But to this determination Judith could not bring +herself at first. Though she had put aside, to be kept, things too +sacred to her, too much part of her past life, to be allowed to go +into the sale, after a few days she relinquished even these. Those six +delightful old colored prints, in frames, of a fox-hunt--how Jamie had +laughed at them, and followed the incidents in them, and never wearied +of them--must they go--perhaps for a song? It must be so. That +work-table of her mother's, of dark rosewood, with a crimson bag +beneath it to contain wools and silks, one of the few remembrances she +had of that mother whom she but dimly recalled--must that go?--what, +and all those skeins in it of colored floss silk, and the piece of +embroidery half finished? the work of her mother, broken off by +death--that also? It must be so. And that rusty leather chair in which +papa had sat, with one golden-headed child on each knee cuddled into +his breast, with the flaps of his coat drawn over their heads, which +listened to the tick-tick of his great watch, and to the tale of +Little Snowflake, or Gracieuse and Percinet?--must that go also? It +must be so. + +Every day showed to Judith some fresh link that had to be broken. She +could not bear to think that the mother's work-table should be +contended for at a vulgar auction, and struck down to a blousy +farmer's wife; that her father's chair should go to some village inn +to be occupied by sots. She would rather have seen them destroyed; but +to destroy them would not be right. + +After a while she longed for the sale; she desired to have it over, +that an entirely new page of life might be opened, and her thoughts +might not be carried back to the past by everything she saw. + +Of Coppinger nothing further was seen. Nor did Aunt Dionysia appear at +the rectory to superintend the assortment of the furniture, nor at Mr. +Menaida's to inquire into the welfare of her nephew and niece. To +Judith it was a relief not to have her aunt in the parsonage while she +was there; that hard voice and unsympathetic manner would have kept +her nerves on the quiver. It was best as it was, that she should have +time, by herself, with no interference from any one, to select what +was to be kept and put away what was to be sold; to put away gently, +with her own trembling hand, and with eyes full of tears, the old +black gown and the Oxford hood that papa had worn in church, and to +burn his old sermons and bundles of letters, unread and uncommented on +by Aunt Dunes. + +In these days Judith did not think much of Coppinger. Uncle Zachie +informed her that he was worse, he was confined to his bed, he had +done himself harm by coming over to Polzeath the day after his +accident, and the doctor had ordered him not to stir from Pentyre +Glaze for some time--not till his bones were set. Nothing was known of +the occasion of Coppinger's injuries, so Uncle Zachie said; it was +reported in the place that he had been thrown from his horse. Judith +entreated the old man not to enlighten the ignorance of the public; +she was convinced that naught would transpire through Jamie, who could +not tell a story intelligibly; and Miss Dionysia Trevisa was not +likely to publish what she knew. + +Judith had a pleasant little chamber at Mr. Menaida's; it was small, +low, plastered against the roof, the rafters showing, and whitewashed +like the walls and ceiling. The light entered from a dormer in the +roof, a low window glazed with diamond quarries set in lead that +clickered incessantly in the wind. It faced the south, and let the sun +flow in. A scrap of carpet was on the floor, and white curtains to the +window. In this chamber Judith ranged such of her goods as she had +resolved on retaining, either as indispensable, or as being too dear +to her to part with unnecessarily, and which, as being of small size, +she might keep without difficulty. + +Her father's old travelling trunk, covered with hide with the hair +on, and his initials in brass nails--a trunk he had taken with him to +college--was there, thrust against the wall; it contained her clothes. +Suspended above it was her little bookcase, with the shelves laden +with "The Travels of Rolando," Dr. Aitkin's "Evenings at Home," +Magnal's "Questions," a French Dictionary, "Paul and Virginia," and a +few other works such as were the delight of children from ninety to a +hundred years ago. + +Books for children were rare in those days, and such as were produced +were read and re-read till they were woven into the very fibre of the +mind, never more to be extricated and cast aside. Now it is otherwise. +A child reads a story-book every week, and each new story-book effaces +the impression produced by the book that went before. The result of +much reading is the same as the result of no reading--the production +of a blank. + +How Judith and Jamie had sat together perched up in a sycamore, in +what they called their nest, and had revelled in the adventures of +Rolando, she reading aloud, he listening a little, then lapsing into +observation of the birds that flew and hopped about, or the insects +that spun and crept, or dropped on silky lines, or fluttered humming +about the nest, then returned to attention to the book again! Rolando +would remain through life the friend and companion of Judith. She +could not part with the four-volumed, red-leather-backed book. + +For the first day or two Jamie had accompanied his sister to the +rectory, and had somewhat incommoded her by his restlessness and his +mischief, but on the third day, and thenceforth, he no longer attended +her. He had made fast friends with Uncle Zachie. He was amused with +watching the process of bird-stuffing, and the old man made use of the +boy by giving him tow to pick to pieces and wires to straighten. + +Mr. Menaida was pleased to have some one by him in his workshop to +whom he could talk. It was unimportant to him whether the listener +followed the thread of his conversation or not, so long as he was a +listener. Mr. Menaida, in his solitude, had been wont to talk to +himself, to grumble to himself at the impatience of his customers, to +lament to himself the excess of work that pressed upon him and +deprived him of time for relaxation. He was wont to criticise, to +himself, his success or want of success in the setting-up of a bird. +It was far more satisfactory to him to be able to address all these +remarks to a second party. + +He was, moreover, surprised to find how keen and just had been Jamie's +observation of birds, their ways, their attitudes. Judith was +delighted to think that Jamie had discovered talent of some sort, and +he had, so Uncle Zachie assured her, that imitative ability which is +often found to exist alongside with low intellectual power, and this +enabled him to assist Mr. Menaida in giving a natural posture to his +birds. + +It flattered the boy to find that he was appreciated, that he was +consulted, and asked to assist in a kind of work that exacted nothing +of his mind. + +When Uncle Zachie was tired of his task, which was every ten minutes +or quarter of an hour, and that was the extreme limit to which he +could continue regular work, he lit his pipe, left his bench, and sat +in his arm-chair. Then Jamie also left his tow-picking or +wire-punching, and listened, or seemed to listen, to Mr. Menaida's +talk. When the old man had finished his pipe, and, with a sigh, went +back to his task, Jamie was tired of hearing him talk, and was glad to +resume his work. Thus the two desultory creatures suited each other +admirably, and became attached friends. + +"Jamie! what is the meaning of this?" asked Judith, with a start and a +rush of blood to her heart. + +She had returned in the twilight from the parsonage. There was +something in the look of her brother, something in his manner that was +unusual. + +"Jamie! What have you been taking? Who gave it you?" + +She caught the boy by the arm. Distress and shame were in her face, in +the tones of her voice. + +Mr. Menaida grunted. + +"I'm sorry, but it can't be helped--really it can't," said he, +apologetically. "But Captain Coppinger has sent me down a present of a +keg of cognac--real cognac, splendid, amber-like--and, you know, it was +uncommonly kind. He never did it before. So there was no avoidance; we +had to tap it and taste it, and give a sup to the fellow who brought +us the keg, and drink the health of the Captain. One could not be +churlish; and, naturally, I could not abstain from letting Jamie try +the spirit. Perfectly pure--quite wholesome--first-rate quality. Upon +my word, he had not more than a fly could dip his legs in and feel the +bottom; but he is unaccustomed to anything stronger than cider, and +this is stronger than I supposed." + +"Mr. Menaida, you promised me--" + +"Bless me! There are contingencies, you know. I never for a moment +thought that Captain Coppinger would show me such a favor, would have +such courtesy. But, upon my honor, I think it is your doing, my dear! +You shook hands and made peace with him, and he has sent this in token +of the cessation of hostilities and the ratification of the +agreement." + +"Mr. Menaida, I trusted you. I did believe, when you passed your word +to me, that you would hold to it." + +"Now--there, don't take it in that way. Jamie, you rascal, hop off to +bed. He'll be right as a trivet to-morrow morning, I stake my +reputation on that. There, there, I will help him up-stairs." + +Judith suffered Mr. Menaida to do as he proposed. When he had left the +room with Jamie, who was reluctant to go, and struggled to remain, she +seated herself on the sofa, and covering her face with her hands burst +into tears. Whom could she trust? No one. + +Had she been alone in the world she would have been more confident of +the future, been able to look forward with a good courage; but she had +to carry Jamie with her, who must be defended from himself, and from +the weak good-nature of those he was with. + +When Uncle Zachie came down-stairs he slunk into his workroom and was +very quiet. No lamp or candle was lighted, and it was too dark for him +to continue his employment on the birds. What was he doing? Nothing. +He was ashamed of himself, and keeping out of Judith's way. + +But Judith would not let him escape so easily; she went to him, as he +avoided her, and found him seated in a corner turning his pipe about. +He had been afraid of striking a light, lest he should call her +attention to his presence. + +"Oh, my dear, come in here into the workshop to me! This is an honor, +an unexpected pleasure. Jamie and I have been drudging like slaves all +day, and we're fagged--fagged to the ends of our fingers and toes." + +"Mr. Menaida, I am sorry to say it, but if such a thing happens again +as has taken place this evening, Jamie and I must leave your house. I +thank you with an overflowing heart for your goodness to us; but I +must consider Jamie above everything else, and I must see that he be +not exposed to temptation." + +"Where will you take him?" + +"I cannot tell; but I must shield him." + +"There, there, not a word! It shall never happen again. Now let +by-gones be by-gones, and play me something of Beethoven, while I sit +here and listen in the twilight." + +"No, Mr. Menaida, I cannot. I have not the spirit to do it. I can +think only of Jamie." + +"So you punish me!" + +"Take it so. I am sorry; but I cannot do otherwise." + +"Now, look here! Bless my soul! I had almost forgotten it. Here is a +note for you, from the Captain, I believe." He went to the +chimney-piece and took down a scrap of paper, folded and sealed. + +Judith looked at it and went to the window, broke the seal, and opened +the paper. She read-- + + "Why do you not come and see me? You do not care for what you + have done. They call me cruel; but you are that.--C. C." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +EGO ET REGINA MEA. + + +The strange, curt note from Cruel Coppinger served in a measure to +divert the current of Judith's thoughts from her trouble about Jamie. +It was, perhaps, as well, or she would have fretted over that +throughout the night, not only because of Jamie, but because she felt +that her father had left his solemn injunction on her to protect and +guide her twin-brother, and she knew that whatsoever harm, physical or +moral, came to him, argued a lack of attention to her duty. Her father +had not been dead many days, and already Jamie had been led from the +path she had undertaken to keep him in. + +But when she began to worry herself about Jamie, the bold characters, +"C. C.," with which the letter was signed, rose before her, and glowed +in the dark as characters of fire. + +She had gone to her bedroom, and had retired for the night, but could +not sleep. The moon shone through the lattice into her chamber, and on +the stool by the window lay the letter, where she had cast it. Her +mind turned to it. + +Why did Coppinger call her cruel? Was she cruel? Not intentionally so. +She had not wilfully injured him. He did not suppose that. He meant +that she was heartless and indifferent in letting him suffer without +making any inquiry concerning him. + +He had injured himself by coming to Polzeath to see her the day +following his accident. Uncle Zachie had assured her of that. + +She went on in her busy mind to ask why he had come to see her? Surely +there had been no need for him to do so! His motive--the only motive +she could imagine--was a desire to relieve her from anxiety and +distress of mind; a desire to show her that he bore no ill-will toward +her for what she had done. That was generous and considerate of him. +Had he not come she certainly would have been unhappy and in unrest, +would have imagined all kinds of evil as likely to ensue through his +hostility--for one thing, her aunt's dismissal from her post might +have been expected. + +But Coppinger, though in pain, and at a risk to his health, had walked +to where she was lodging to disabuse her of any such impression. She +was grateful to him for so doing. She felt that such a man could not +be utterly abandoned by God, entirely void of good qualities, as she +had supposed, viewing him only through the representations of his +character and the tales circulating relative to his conduct that had +reached her. + +A child divides mankind into two classes--the good and the bad, and +supposes that there is no debatable land between them, where light and +shade are blended into neutral tint; certainly not that there are +blots on the white leaf of the lives of the good, and luminous +glimpses in the darkness of the histories of the bad. As they grow +older they rectify their judgments, and such a rectification Judith +had now to make. + +She was assisted in this by compassion for Coppinger, who was in +suffering, and by self-reproach, because she was the occasion of this +suffering. + +What were the exact words Captain Cruel had employed? She was not +certain; she turned the letter over and over in her mind, and could +not recall every expression, and she could not sleep till she was +satisfied. + +Therefore she rose from bed, stole to the window, took up the letter, +seated herself on the stool, and conned it in the moonlight. "Why do +you not come and see me? You do not care for what you have done." That +was not true; she was greatly troubled at what she had done. She was +sick at heart when she thought of that scene in the lane, when the +black mare was leaping and pounding with her hoofs, and Coppinger lay +on the ground. One kick of the hoof on his head, and he would have +been dead. His blood would have rested on her conscience, never to be +wiped off. Horrible was the recollection now, in the stillness of the +night. It was marvellous that life had not been beaten out of the +prostrate man, that, dragged about by the arm, he had not been torn to +pieces, that every bone had not been shattered, that his face had not +been battered out of recognition. Judith felt the perspiration stand +on her brow at the thought. God had been very good to her in sending +His angel to save Coppinger from death and her from blood-guiltiness. +She slid to her knees at the window, and held up her hands, the +moonlight illuminating her white upturned face, as she gave thanks to +Heaven that no greater evil had ensued from her inconsidered act with +the button-basket than a couple of broken bones. + +Oh! it was very far indeed from true that she did not care for what +she had done. Coppinger must have been blind indeed not to have seen +how she felt her conduct. His letter concluded: "They call me cruel; +but you are that." He meant that she was cruel in not coming to the +Glaze to inquire after him. He had thought of her trouble of mind, and +had gone to Polzeath to relieve her of anxiety, and she had shown no +consideration for him--or not in like manner. + +She had been very busy at the rectory. Her mind had been concerned +with her own affairs, that was her excuse. Cruel she was not. She took +no pleasure in his pain. But she hesitated about going to see him. +That was more than was to be expected of a young girl. She would go on +the morrow to Coppinger's house, and ask to speak to her aunt; that +she might do, and from Aunt Dionysia she would learn in what condition +Captain Cruel was, and might send him her respects and wishes for his +speedy recovery. + +As she still knelt in her window, looking up through the diamond panes +into the clear, gray-blue sky, she heard a sound without, and, looking +down, saw a convoy of horses pass, laden with bales and kegs, and +followed or accompanied by men wearing slouched hats. So little noise +did the beasts make in traversing the road, that Judith was convinced +their hoofs must be muffled in felt. She had heard that this was done +by the smugglers. It was said that all Coppinger's horses had their +boots drawn on when engaged in conveying run goods from the place +where stored to their destination. + +These were Coppinger's men, this his convoy, doubtless. Judith thrust +the letter from her. He was a bad man, a very bad man; and if he had +met with an accident, it was his due, a judgment on his sins. She rose +from her knees, turned away, and went back to her bed. + +Next day, after a morning spent at the rectory, in the hopes that her +aunt might arrive and obviate the need of her going in quest of her, +Judith, disappointed in this hope, prepared to walk to Pentyre. Mrs. +Dionysia had not acted with kindness toward her. Judith felt this, +without allowing herself to give to the feeling articulate expression. +She made what excuses she could for Aunt Dunes: she was hindered by +duties that had crowded upon her, she had been forbidden going by +Captain Cruel; but none of these excuses satisfied Judith. + +Judith must go herself to the Glaze, and she had reasons of her own +for wishing to see her aunt, independent of the sense of obligation on +her, more or less acknowledged, that she must obey the summons of +C. C. There were matters connected with the rectory, with the +furniture there, the cow, and the china, that Mrs. Trevisa must give +her judgment upon. There were bills that had come in, which Mrs. +Trevisa must pay, as Judith had been left without any money in her +pocket. + +As the girl walked through the lanes she turned over in her mind the +stories she had heard of the smuggler Captain, the wild tales of his +wrecking ships, of his contests with the Preventive men, and the +ghastly tragedy of Wyvill, who had been washed up headless on Doombar. +In former days she had accepted all these stories as true, had not +thought of questioning them; but now that she had looked Coppinger in +the face, had spoken with him, experienced his consideration, she +could not believe that they were to be accepted without question. That +story of Wyvill--that Captain Cruel had hacked off his head on the +gunwale with his axe--seemed to her now utterly incredible. But if +true! She shuddered to think that her hand had been held in that +stained with so hideous a crime. + +Thus musing, Judith arrived at Pentyre Glaze, and entering the porch, +turned from the sea, knocked at the door. + +A loud voice bade her enter. She knew that the voice proceeded from +Coppinger, and her heart fluttered with fear and uncertainty. She +halted, with her hand on the door, inclined to retreat without +entering; but again the voice summoned her to come in, and gathering +up her courage she opened the door, and, still holding the latch, +took a few steps forward into the hall or kitchen, into which it +opened. + +A fire was smouldering in the great open fireplace, and beside it, in +a carved oak arm-chair, sat Cruel Coppinger, with a small table at his +side, on which were a bottle and glass, a canister of tobacco and a +pipe. His arm was strapped across his breast as she had seen it a few +days before. Entering from the brilliant light of day, Judith could +not at first observe his face, but, as her eyes became accustomed to +the twilight of the smoke-blackened and gloomy hall, she saw that he +looked more worn and pale than he had seemed the day after the +accident. Nor could she understand the expression on his countenance +when he was aware who was his visitor. + +"I beg your pardon," said Judith; "I am sorry to have intruded; but I +wished to speak to my aunt." + +"Your aunt? Old mother Dunes? Come in. Let go your hold of the door +and shut it. Your aunt started a quarter of an hour ago for the +rectory." + +"And I came along the lane from Polzeath." + +"Then no wonder you did not meet her. She went by the church path, of +course, and over the down." + +"I am sorry to have missed her. Thank you, Captain Coppinger, for +telling me." + +"Stay!" he roared, as he observed her draw back into the porch. "You +are not going yet!" + +"I cannot stay for more than a moment in which to ask how you do, and +whether you are somewhat better? I was sorry to hear you had been +worse." + +"I have been worse, yes. Come in. You shall not go. I am mewed in as a +prisoner, and have none to speak to, and no one to look at but old +Dunes. Come in, and take that stool by the fire, and let me hear you +speak, and let me rest my eyes a while on your golden hair--gold more +golden than that of the Indies." + +"I hope you are better, sir," said Judith, ignoring the compliment. + +"I am better now I have seen you. I shall be worse if you do not come +in." + +She refused to do this by a light shake of the head. + +"I suppose you are afraid. We are wild and lawless men here, ogres +that eat children! Come, child, I have something to show you." + +"Thank you for your kindness; but I must run to the parsonage; I +really _must_ see my aunt." + +"Then I will send her to Polzeath to you when she returns. She will +keep; she's stale enough." + +"I would spare her the trouble." + +"Pshaw! She shall do what I will. Now see--I am wearied to death with +solitude and sickness. Come, amuse yourself, if you will, with +insulting me--calling me what you like; I do not mind, so long as you +remain." + +"I have no desire whatever, Captain Coppinger, to insult you and call +you names." + +"You insult me by standing there holding the latch--standing on one +foot, as if afraid to sully the soles by treading my tainted floor. Is +it not an insult that you refuse to come in? Is it not so much as +saying to me, 'You are false, cruel, not to be trusted; you are not +worthy that I should be under the same roof with you, and breathe the +same air?'" + +"Oh, Captain Coppinger, I do not mean that!" + +"Then let go the latch and come in. Stand, if you will not sit, +opposite me. How can I see you there, in the doorway?" + +"There is not much to see when I am visible," said Judith, laughing. + +"Oh, no! not much! Only a little creature who has more daring than any +man in Cornwall--who will stand up to, and cast at her feet, Cruel +Coppinger, at whose name men tremble." + +Judith let go her hold on the door, and moved timidly into the hall; +but she let the door remain half open that the light and air flowed +in. + +"And now," said Captain Coppinger, "here is a key on this table by me. +Do you see a small door by the clock-case? Unlock that door with the +key." + +"You want something from thence!" + +"I want you to unlock the door. There are beautiful and costly things +within that you shall see." + +"Thank you; but I would rather look at them some other day, when my +aunt is here, and I have more time." + +"Will you refuse me even the pleasure of letting you see what is +there?" + +"If you particularly desire it, Captain Coppinger, I will peep in--but +only peep." + +She took the key from his table, and crossed the hall to the door. +The lock was large and clumsy, but she turned the key by putting both +hands to it. Then, swinging open the door, she looked inside. The door +opened into an apartment crowded with a collection of sundry articles +of value: bales of silk from Italy, Genoa laces, Spanish silver-inlaid +weapons, Chinese porcelain, bronzes from Japan, gold and silver +ornaments, bracelets, brooches, watches, inlaid mother-of-pearl +cabinets--an amazing congeries of valuables heaped together. + +"Well, now!" shouted Cruel Coppinger. "What say you to the gay things +there? Choose--take what you will. I care not for them one rush. What +do you most admire, most covet? Put out both hands and take--take all +you would have; fill your lap, carry off all you can. It is yours." + +Judith drew hastily back and relocked the door. + +"What have you taken?" + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing? Take what you will; I give it freely." + +"I cannot take anything, though I thank you, Captain Coppinger, for +your kind and generous offer." + +"You will accept nothing?" + +She shook her head. + +"That is like you. You do it to anger me. As you throw hard words at +me--coward, wrecker, robber--and as you dash broken glass, buttons, +buckles, in my face, so do you throw back my offers." + +"It is not through ingratitude--" + +"I care not through what it is! You seek to anger, and not to please +me. Why will you take nothing? There are beautiful things there to +charm a woman." + +"I am not a woman; I am a little girl." + +"Why do you refuse me!" + +"For one thing, because I want none of the things there, beautiful and +costly though they be." + +"And for the other thing----?" + +"For the other thing--excuse my plain speaking--I do not think they +have been honestly got." + +"By heavens!" shouted Coppinger. "There you attack and stab at me +again. I like your plainness of speech. You do not spare me. I would +not have you false and double like old Dunes." + +"Oh, Captain Coppinger! I give you thanks from the depths of my +heart. It is kindly intended, and it is so good and noble of you, I +feel that; for I have hurt you and reduced you to the state in which +you now are, and yet you offer me the best things in your +house--things of priceless value. I acknowledge your goodness; but +just because I know I do not deserve this goodness I must decline what +you offer." + +"Then come here and give me the key." + +She stepped lightly over the floor to him and handed him the great +iron key to his store chamber. As she did so he caught her hand, bowed +his dark head, and kissed her fingers. + +"Captain Coppinger!" She started back, trembling, and snatched her +hand from him. + +"What! have I offended you again? Why not? A subject kisses the hand +of his queen; and I am a subject, and you--you my queen." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +JESSAMINE. + + +"How are you, old man?" + +"Middlin', thanky'; and how be you, gov'nor?" + +"Middlin' also; and your missus?" + +"Only sadly. I fear she's goin' slow but sure the way of all flesh." + +"Bless us! 'Tis a trouble and expense them sort o' things. Now to +work, shall we? What do you figure up?" + +"And you?" + +"Oh, well, I'm not here on reg'lar business. Huntin' on my own score +to-day." + +"Oh, ay! Nice port this." + +"Best the old fellow had in his cellar. I told the executrix I should +like the taste of it, and advise thereon." + +The valuers for dilapidations, vulgarly termed dilapidators, were met +in the dining-room of the deserted parsonage. Mr. Scantlebray was on +one side, Mr. Cargreen on the other. Mr. Scantlebray was on that of +the "orphings," as he termed his clients, and Mr. Cargreen on that of +the Rev. Mr. Mules, the recently nominated rector to S. Enodoc. + +Mr. Scantlebray was a tall, lean man, with light gray eyes, a red +face, and legs and arms that he shook every now and then as though +they were encumbrances to his trunk and he was going to shake them +off, as a poodle issuing from a bath shakes the water out of his +locks. Mr. Cargreen was a bullet-headed man, with a white neckcloth, +gray whiskers, a solemn face, and a sort of perpetual "Let-us-pray" +expression on his lips and in his eyes--a composing of his interior +faculties and abstraction from worldly concerns. + +"I am here," said Mr. Scantlebray, "as adviser and friend--you +understand, old man--of the orphings and their haunt." + +"And I," said Mr. Cargreen, "am ditto to the incoming rector." + +"And what do you get out of this visit!" asked Mr. Scantlebray, who +was a frank man. + +"Only three guineas as a fee," said Mr. Cargreen. "And you?" + +"Ditto, old man--three guineas. You understand, I am not here as +valuer to-day." + +"Nor I--only as adviser." + +"Exactly! Taste this port. 'Taint bad--out of the cellar of the old +chap. Told auntie I must have it, to taste and give opinion on." + +"And what are you going to do to-day?" + +"I'm going to have one or two little things pulled down, and other +little things put to rights." + +"Humph! I'm here to see nothing is pulled down." + +"We won't quarrel. There's the conservatory, and the linney in Willa +Park." + +"I don't know," said Cargreen, shaking his head. + +"Now look here, old man," said Mr. Scantlebray. "You let me tear the +linney down, and I'll let the conservatory stand." + +"The conservatory----" + +"I know; the casement of the best bedroom went through the roof of it. +I'll mend the roof and repaint it. You can try the timber, and find it +rotten, and lay on dilapidations enough to cover a new conservatory. +Pass the linney; I want to make pickings out of that." + +It may perhaps be well to let the reader understand the exact +situation of the two men engaged in sipping port. Directly it was +known that a rector had been nominated to S. Enodoc, Mr. Cargreen, a +Bodmin valuer, agent, and auctioneer, had written to the happy +nominee, Mr. Mules, of Birmingham, inclosing his card in the letter, +to state that he was a member of an old-established firm, enjoying the +confidence, not to say the esteem of the principal county families in +the north of Cornwall, that he was a sincere Churchman, that +deploring, as a true son of the Church, the prevalence of Dissent, he +felt it his duty to call the attention of the reverend gentleman to +certain facts that concerned him, but especially the CHURCH, and facts +that he himself, as a devoted son of the Church, on conviction, after +mature study of its tenets, felt called upon, in the interest of that +Church he so had at heart, to notice. He had heard, said Mr. Cargreen, +that the outgoing parties from S. Enodoc were removing, or causing to +be removed, or were proposing to remove, certain fixtures in the +parsonage, and certain out-buildings, barns, tenements, sheds, and +linneys on the glebe and parsonage premises, to the detriment of its +value, inasmuch as that such removal would be prejudicial to the +letting of the land, and render it impossible for the incoming rector +to farm it himself without re-erecting the very buildings now in +course of destruction, or which were purposed to be destroyed: to wit, +certain out-buildings, barns, cattle-sheds, and linneys, together with +other tenements that need not be specified. Mr. Cargreen added that, +roughly speaking, the dilapidations of these buildings, if allowed to +stand, might be assessed at £300; but that, if pulled down, it would +cost the new rector about £700 to re-erect them, and their re-erection +would be an imperative necessity. Mr. Cargreen had himself, +personally, no interest in the matter; but, as a true son of the +Church, etc., etc. + +By return of post Mr. Cargreen received an urgent request from the +Rev. Mr. Mules to act as his agent, and to act with precipitation in +the protection of his interests. + +In the meantime Mr. Scantlebray had not been neglectful of other +people's interest. He had written to Miss Dionysia Trevisa to inform +her that, though he did not enjoy a present acquaintance, it was the +solace and joy of his heart to remember that some years ago, before +that infelicitous marriage of Mr. Trevisa, which had led to Miss +Dionysia's leaving the rectory, it had been his happiness to meet her +at the house of a mutual acquaintance, Mrs. Scaddon, where he had +respectfully, and, at this distance of time, he ventured to add, +humbly and hopelessly admired her; that, as he was riding past the +rectory he had chanced to observe the condition of dilapidation +certain tenements, pig-sties, cattle-sheds, and other out-buildings +were in, and that, though it in no way concerned him, yet, for auld +lang syne's sake, and a desire to assist one whom he had always +venerated, and, at this distance of time might add, had admired, he +ventured to offer a suggestion: to wit, That a number of unnecessary +out-buildings should be torn down and utterly effaced before a new +rector was nominated, and had appointed a valuer; also that certain +obvious repairs should be undertaken and done at once, so as to give +to the parsonage the appearance of being in excellent order, and cut +away all excuse for piling up dilapidations. Mr. Scantlebray ventured +humbly to state that he had had a good deal of experience with those +gentlemen who acted as valuers for dilapidations, and with pain he was +obliged to add that a more unscrupulous set of men it had never been +his bad fortune to come into contact with. He ventured to assert that, +were he to tell all he knew, or only half of what he knew, as to their +proceedings in valuing for dilapidations, he would make both of Miss +Trevisa's ears tingle. + +At once Miss Dionysia entreated Mr. Scantlebray to superintend and +carry out with expedition such repairs and such demolitions as he +deemed expedient, so as to forestall the other party. + +"Chicken!" said Mr. Cargreen. "That's what I've brought for my lunch." + +"And 'am is what I've got," said Mr. Scantlebray. "They'll go lovely +together." Then, in a loud tone--"Come in!" + +The door opened, and a carpenter entered with a piece of deal board in +his hand. + +"You won't mind looking out of the winder, Mr. Cargreen?" said Mr. +Scantlebray. "Some business that's partick'ler my own. You'll find the +jessamine--the white jessamine--smells beautiful." + +Mr. Cargreen rose, and went to the dining-room window that was +embowered in white jessamine, then in full flower and fragrance. + +"What is it, Davy?" + +"Well, sir, I ain't got no dry old board for the floor where it be +rotten, nor for the panelling of the doors where broken through." + +"No board at all?" + +"No, sir--all is green. Only cut last winter." + +"Won't it take paint?" + +"Well, sir, not well. I've dried this piece by the kitchen fire, and I +find it'll take the paint for a time." + +"Run, dry all the panels at the kitchen fire, and then paint 'em." + +"Thanky', sir; but, how about the boarding of the floor? The boards'll +warp and start." + +"Look here, Davy, that gentleman who's at the winder a-smelling to +the jessamine is the surveyor and valuer to t'other party. I fancy +you'd best go round outside and have a word with him and coax him to +pass the boards." + +"Come in!" in a loud voice. Then there entered a man in a cloth coat, +with very bushy whiskers. "How d'y' do, Spargo? What do you want?" + +"Well, Mr. Scantlebray, I understand the linney and cow-shed is to be +pulled down." + +"So it is, Spargo." + +"Well, sir!" Mr. Spargo drew his sleeve across his mouth. "There's a +lot of very fine oak timber in it--beams, and such like--that I don't +mind buying. As a timber merchant I could find a use for it." + +"Say ten pound." + +"Ten pun'! That's a long figure!" + +"Not a pound too much; but come--we'll say eight." + +"I reckon I'd thought five." + +"Five! pshaw! It's dirt cheap to _you_ at eight." + +"Why to me, sir?" + +"Why, because the new rector will want to rebuild both cattle-shed and +linney, and he'll have to go to you for timber." + +"But suppose he don't, and cuts down some on the glebe?" + +"No, Spargo--not a bit. There at the winder, smelling to the +jessamine, is the new rector's adviser and agent. Go round by the +front door into the garding, and say a word to him--you understand, +and--" Mr. Scantlebray tapped his palm. "Do now go round and have a +sniff of the jessamine, Mr. Spargo, and I don't fancy Mr. Cargreen +will advise the rector to use home-grown timber. He'll tell him it +sleeps away, gets the rot, comes more expensive in the long run." + +The valuer took a wing of chicken and a little ham, and then shouted, +with his mouth full--"Come in!" + +The door opened and admitted a farmer. + +"How do, Mr. Joshua? middlin'?" + +"Middlin', sir, thanky'." + +"And what have you come about, sir?" + +"Well--Mr. Scantlebray, sir! I fancy you ha'n't offered me quite +enough for carting away of all the rummage from them buildings as is +coming down. 'Tis a terrible lot of stone, and I'm to take 'em so far +away." + +"Why not?" + +"Well, sir, it's such a lot of work for the bosses, and the pay so +poor." + +"Not a morsel, Joshua--not a morsel." + +"Well, sir, I can't do it at the price." + +"Oh, Joshua! Joshua! I thought you'd a better eye to the future. Don't +you see that the new rector will have to build up all these +out-buildings again, and where else is he to get stone except out of +your quarry, or some of the old stone you have carted away, which you +will have the labor of carting back?" + +"Well, sir, I don't know." + +"But I do, Joshua." + +"The new rector might go elsewhere for stone." + +"Not he. Look there, at the winder is Mr. Cargreen, and he's in with +the new parson, like a brother--knows his very soul. The new parson +comes from Birmingham. What can he tell about building-stone here? Mr. +Cargreen will tell him yours is the only stuff that ain't powder." + +"But, sir, he may not rebuild." + +"He must. Mr. Cargreen will tell him that he can't let the glebe +without buildings; and he can't build without your quarry stone: and +if he has your quarry stone--why, you will be given the carting also. +Are you satisfied?" + +"Yes--if Mr. Cargreen would be sure----" + +"He's there at the winder, a-smelling to the jessamine. You go round +and have a talk to him, and make him understand--you know. He's a +little hard o' hearing; but the drum o' his ear is here," said +Scantlebray, tapping his palm. + +Mr. Scantlebray was now left to himself to discuss the chicken +wing--the liver wing he had taken--and sip the port; a conversation +was going on in an undertone at the window; but that concerned Mr. +Cargreen and not himself, so he paid no attention to it. + +After a while, however, when this hum ceased, he turned his head, and +called out: + +"Old man! how about your lunch?" + +"I'm coming." + +"And you found the jessamine very sweet?" + +"Beautiful! beautiful!" + +"Taste this port. It is not what it should be: some the old fellow +laid in when he could afford it--before he married. It is passed, and +going back; should have been drunk five years ago." + +Mr. Cargreen came to the table, and seated himself. Then Mr. +Scantlebray flapped his arms, shook out his legs, and settled himself +to the enjoyment of the lunch, in the society of Mr. Cargreen. + +"The merry-thought! Pull with me, old man?" + +"Certainly!" + +Mr. Scantlebray and Mr. Cargreen were engaged on the merry-thought, +each endeavoring to steal an advantage on the other, by working the +fingers up the bone unduly, when the window was darkened. + +Without desisting from pulling at the merry-thought each turned his +head, and Scantlebray at once let go his end of the bone. At the +window stood Captain Coppinger looking in at the couple, with his +elbow resting on the window-sill. + +Mr. Scantlebray flattered himself that he was on good terms with all +the world, and he at once with hilarity saluted the Captain by raising +the fingers greased by the bone to his brow. + +"Didn't reckon on seeing you here, Cap'n." + +"I suppose not." + +"Come and pick a bone with us?" + +Coppinger laughed a short snort through his nostrils. + +"I have a bone to pick with you already." + +"Never! no, never!" + +"You have forced yourself on Miss Trevisa to act as her agent and +valuer in the matter of dilapidations." + +"Not forced, Captain. She asked me to give her friendly counsel. We +are old acquaintances." + +"I will not waste words. Give me her letter. She no longer requires +your advice and counsel. I am going to act for her." + +"You, Cap'n! Lor' bless me! You don't mean to say so!" + +"Yes. I will protect her against being pillaged. She is my +housekeeper." + +"But see! she is only executrix. She gets nothing out of the +property." + +"No--but her niece and nephew do. Take it that I act for them. Give me +up her letter." + +Mr. Scantlebray hesitated. + +"But, Cap'n, I've been to vast expense. I've entered into +agreements----" + +"With whom?" + +"With carpenter and mason about the repairs." + +"Give me the agreements." + +"Not agreements exactly. They sent me in their estimates, and I +accepted them, and set them to work." + +"Give me the estimates." + +Mr. Scantlebray flapped all his limbs, and shook his head. + +"You don't suppose I carry these sort of things about with me?" + +"I have no doubt whatever they are in your pocket." Scantlebray +fidgeted. + +"Cap'n, try this port--a little going back, but not to be sneezed at." + +Coppinger leaned forward through the window. + +"Who is that man with you?" + +"Mr. Cargreen." + +"What is he here for?" + +"I am agent for the Reverend Mules, the newly appointed rector," said +Mr. Cargreen, with some dignity. + +"Then I request you both to step to the window to me." + +The two men looked at each other. Scantlebray jumped up, and Cargreen +followed. They stood in the window-bay at a respectful distance from +Cruel Coppinger. + +"I suppose you know who I am?" said the latter, fixing his eyes on +Cargreen. + +"I believe I can form a guess." + +"And your duty to your client is to make out as bad a case as you can +against the two children. They have had just one thousand pounds left +them. You are going to get as much of that away from them as you are +permitted." + +"My good sir--allow me to explain----" + +"There is no need," said Coppinger. "Suffice it that you are one side. +I--Cruel Coppinger--on the other. Do you understand what that means?" + +Mr. Cargreen became alarmed, his face became very blank. + +"I am not a man to waste words. I am not a man that many in Cornwall +would care to have as an adversary. Do you ever travel at night, Mr. +Cargreen?" + +"Yes, sir, sometimes." + +"Through the lanes and along the lonely roads?" + +"Perhaps, sir--now and then." + +"So do I," said Coppinger. He drew a pistol from his pocket, and +played with it. The two "dilapidators" shrank back. "So do I," said +Coppinger; "but I never go unarmed. I would advise you to do the +same--if you are my adversary." + +"I hope, Captain, that--that----" + +"If those children suffer through you more than what I allow"--Coppinger +drew up his one shoulder that he could move--"I should advise you to +consider what Mrs. Cargreen will have to live on when a widow." Then +he turned to Scantlebray, who was sneaking behind the window-curtain. + +"Miss Trevisa's letter, authorizing you to act for her?" + +Scantlebray, with shaking hand, groped for his pocket-book. + +"And the two agreements or estimates you signed." + +Scantlebray gave him the letter. + +"The agreements also." + +Nervously the surveyor groped again, and reluctantly produced them. +Captain Coppinger opened them with his available hand. + +"What is this? Five pounds in pencil added to each, and then summed up +in the total? What is the meaning of that, pray?" + +Mr. Scantlebray again endeavored to disappear behind the curtain. + +"Come forward!" shouted Captain Cruel, striking the window-sill with +the pistol. + +Scantlebray jumped out of his retreat at once. + +"What is the meaning of these two five pounds?" + +"Well, sir--Captain--it is usual; every one does it. It is my--what +d'y' call it!--consideration for accepting the estimates." + +"And added to each, and then charged to the orphans, who pay you to +act in their interest--so they pay wittingly, directly, and +unwittingly, indirectly. Well for you and for Mrs. Scantlebray that I +release you of your obligation to act for Mother Dunes--I mean Miss +Trevisa." + +"Sir," said Cargreen, "under the circumstances, under intimidation, I +decline to sully my fingers with the business. I shall withdraw." + +"No, you shall not," said Cruel Coppinger, resolutely. "You shall act, +and act as I approve; and in the end it shall not be to your +disadvantage." + +Then, without a word of farewell, he stood up, slipped the pistol back +into his pocket, and strode away. + +Mr. Cargreen had become white, or rather, the color of dough. After a +moment he recovered himself somewhat, and, turning to Scantlebray, +with a sarcastic air, said-- + +"I hope _you_ enjoy the jessamine. They don't smell particularly sweet +to me." + +"Orful!" groaned Scantlebray. He shook himself--almost shaking off all +his limbs in the convulsion--"Old man--them jessamines is orful!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE CAVE. + + +Some weeks slipped by without bringing to Judith any accession of +anxiety. She did not go again to Pentyre Glaze, but her aunt came once +or twice in the week to Polzeath to see her. Moreover, Miss Dionysia's +manner toward her was somewhat less contrary and vexatious, and she +seemed to put on a conciliatory manner, as far as was possible for one +so angular and crabbed. Gracious she could not be; nature had made it +as impossible for her to be gracious in manner as to be lovely in face +and graceful in movement. + +Moreover, Judith observed that her aunt looked at her with an +expression of perplexity, as though seeking in her to find an answer +to a riddle that vexed her brain. And so it was. Aunt Dunes could not +understand the conduct of Coppinger toward Judith and her brother. Nor +could she understand how a child like her niece could have faced and +defied a man of whom she herself stood in abject fear. Judith had +behaved to the smuggler in a way that no man in the whole countryside +would have ventured to behave. She had thrown him at her feet, half +killed him, and yet Cruel Coppinger did not resent what had been done; +on the contrary, he went out of his way to interfere in the interest +of the orphans. He was not the man to concern himself in other +people's affairs; why should he take trouble on behalf of Judith and +her brother? That he did it out of consideration for herself, Miss +Trevisa had not the assurance to believe. + +Aunt Dunes put a few searching questions to Judith, but drew from her +nothing that explained the mystery. The girl frankly told her of her +visit to the Glaze and interview with the crippled smuggler, of his +offer to her of some of his spoil, and of her refusal to receive a +present from him. Miss Trevisa approved of her niece's conduct in this +respect. It would not have befitted her to accept anything. Judith, +however, did not communicate to her aunt the closing scene in that +interview. She did not tell her that Coppinger had kissed her hand, +nor his excuse for having done so, that he was offering homage to a +queen. + +For one thing, Judith did not attach any importance to this incident. +She had always heard that Coppinger was a wild and insolent man, wild +and insolent in his dealings with his fellow-men, therefore doubtless +still more so in his treatment of defenceless women. He had behaved to +her in the rude manner in which he would behave to any peasant girl or +sailor's daughter who caught his fancy, and she resented his act as an +indignity, and his excuse for it as a prevarication. And, precisely, +because he had offended her maidenly dignity, she blushed to mention +it, even to her aunt, resolving in her own mind not to subject herself +to the like again. + +Miss Trevisa, on several occasions, invited Judith to come and see her +at Pentyre Glaze, but the girl always declined the invitation. + +Judith's estimate of Cruel Coppinger was modified. He could not be the +utter reprobate she had always held him to be. She fully acknowledged +that there was an element of good in the man, otherwise he would not +have forgiven the injury done him, nor would he have interfered to +protect her and Jamie from the fraud and extortion of the +"dilapidators." She trusted that the stories she had heard of +Coppinger's wild and savage acts were false, or overcolored. Her dear +father had been misled by reports, as she had been, and it was +possible that Coppinger had not really been the impediment in her +father's way that the late rector had supposed. + +Jamie was happy. He was even, in a fashion, making himself useful. He +helped Mr. Menaida in his bird-stuffing on rainy days; he did more, he +ran about the cliffs, learned the haunts of the wild-fowl, ascertained +where they nested, made friends with Preventive men, and some of those +fellows living on shore, without any very fixed business, who rambled +over the country with their guns, and from these he was able to obtain +birds that he believed Mr. Menaida wanted. Judith was glad that the +boy should be content, and enjoy the fresh air and some freedom. She +would have been less pleased had she seen the companions Jamie made. +But the men had rough good-humor, and were willing to oblige the +half-witted boy, and they encouraged him to go with them shooting, or +to sit with them in their huts. + +Jamie manifested so strong a distaste for books, and lesson time being +one of resistance, pouting, tears, and failures, that Judith thought +it not amiss to put off the resumption of these irksome tasks for a +little while, and to let the boy have his run of holidays. She fancied +that the loss of his father and of his old home preyed on him more +than was actually the case; and believed that by giving him freedom +till the first pangs were over, he might not suffer in the way that +she had done. + +For a fortnight or three weeks Judith's time had been so fully engaged +at the parsonage, that she could not have devoted much of it to Jamie, +even had she thought it desirable to keep him to his lessons; nor +could she be with him much. She did not press him to accompany her to +the rectory, there to spend the time that she was engaged sorting her +father's letters and memoranda, his account-books and collection of +extracts made from volumes he had borrowed, as not only would it be +tedious to him, but he would distract her mind. She must see that he +was amused, and must also provide that he was not at mischief. She did +take him with her on one or two occasions, and found that he had +occupied himself in disarranging much that she had put together for +the sale. + +But she would not allow him wholly to get out of the way of looking to +her as his companion, and she abandoned an afternoon to him now and +then, as her work became less arduous, to walk with him on the cliffs +or in the lanes, to listen to his childish prattle, and throw herself +into his new pursuits. The link between them must not be allowed to +become relaxed, and, so far as in her lay, she did her utmost to +maintain it in its former security. But, with his father's death, and +his removal to Mr. Menaida's cottage, a new world had opened to Jamie; +he was brought into association with men and boys whom he had hardly +known by sight previously, and without any wish to disengage himself +from his sister's authority, he was led to look to others as comrades, +and to listen to and follow their promptings. + +"Come, Jamie," said Judith, one day. "Now I really have some hours +free, and I will go a stroll with you on the downs." + +The boy jumped with pleasure, and caught her hand. + +"I may take Tib with me?" + +"Oh yes, certainly, dear." + +Tib was a puppy that had been given to Jamie by one of his new +acquaintances. + +The day was fresh. Clouds driving before the wind, now obscuring the +sun and threatening rain, then clearing and allowing the sun to turn +the sea green and gild the land. Owing to the breeze the sea was +ruffled and strewn with breakers shaking their white foam. + +"I am going to show you something I have found, Ju," said the boy. +"You will follow, will you not?" + +"Lead the way. What is it?" + +"Come and see. I found it by myself. I shan't tell any one but you." + +He conducted his sister down the cliffs to the beach of a cove. Judith +halted a moment to look along the coast with its mighty, sombre +cliffs, and the sea glancing with sun or dulled by shadow to Tintagel +Head standing up at the extreme point to the northeast, with the white +surf lashing and heaving around it. Then she drew her skirts together, +and descended by the narrow path along which, with the lightness and +confidence of a kid, Jamie was skipping. + +"Jamie!" she said. "Have you seen?--there is a ship standing in the +offing." + +"Yes; she has been there all the morning." + +Then she went further. + +The cove was small, with precipitous cliffs rising from the sand to +the height of two to three hundred feet. The seagulls screamed and +flashed to and fro, and the waves foamed and threw up their waters +lashed into froth as white and light as the feathers on the gulls. In +the concave bay the roar of the plunging tide reverberated from every +side. Neither the voice of Jamie, when he shouted to his sister from +some feet below, nor the barking of his little dog that ran with him, +could be distinguished by her. + +The descent was rapid and rugged, yet not so precipitous but that it +could be gone over by asses or mules. Evidence that these creatures +had passed that way remained in the impression of their hoofs in the +soil, wherever a soft stratum intervened between the harder shelves of +the rock, and had crumbled on the path into clay. + +Judith observed that several paths--not all mule-paths--converged +lower down at intervals in the way by which she descended, so that it +would be possible, apparently, to reach the sand from various points +in the down, as well as by the main track by which she was stepping to +the beach. + +"Jamie!" called Judith, as she stood on the last shoulder of rock +before reaching the beach over a wave-washed and smoothed surface. +"Jamie! I can see that same ship from here." + +But her brother could not hear her. He was throwing stones for the dog +to run after, and meet a wave as it rushed in. + +The tide was going out: it had marked its highest elevation by a bow +of foam and strips of dark seaweed and broken shells. Judith stepped +along this line, and picked out the largest ribbon of weed she could +find. She would hang it in her bedroom to tell her the weather. The +piece that had been wont to act as barometer was old, and, besides, it +had been lost in the recent shift and confusion. + +Jamie came up to her. + +"Now, Ju, mind and watch me, or you will lose me altogether." + +Then he ran forward, with Tib dancing and yelping round him. Presently +he scrambled up a shelf of rock inclined from the sea, and up after +him, yelping, scrambled Tib. In a moment both disappeared over the +crest. + +Judith went up to the ridge and called to her brother. + +"I cannot climb this, Jamie." + +But in another moment, a hundred yards to her right, round the +extremity of the reef, came Tib and his master, the boy dancing and +laughing, the dog ducking his head, shaking his ears, and, all but +laughing also, evidently enjoying the fun as much as Jamie. + +"This way, Ju!" shouted the boy, and signed to his sister. She could +not hear his voice, but obeyed his gestures. The reef ran athwart the +top of the bay, like the dorsal, jagged ridge of a crocodile half +buried in the sand. + +Judith drew her skirts higher and closer, as the sand was wet, and +there were pools by the rock. Then, holding her ribbon of seaweed by +the harsh, knotted root, torn up along with the leaf, and trailing it +behind her, she followed her brother, reached the end of the rock, +turned and went in the traces of Jamie and Tib in the sand parallel to +her former course. + +Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, on the right hand there opened +before her, in the face of the cliff, a cave, the entrance to which +was completely masked by the ridge she had turned. Into this cave went +Jamie with his dog. + +"I am not obliged to follow you there!" protested Judith; but he made +such vehement signs to her to follow him that she good-humoredly +obeyed. + +The cave ran in a long way, at first at no great incline, then it +became low overhead, and immediately after the floor inclined rapidly +upward, and the vault took a like direction. Moreover, light appeared +in front. Here, to Judith's surprise, she saw a large boat, painted +gray, furnished with oars and boat-hook. She was attached by a chain +to a staple in the rock. Judith examined her with a little uneasiness. +No name was on her. + +The sides of the cave at this point formed shelves, not altogether +natural, and that these were made use of was evident, because on them +lay staves of broken casks, a four-flanged boat-anchor, and some oars. +Out of the main trunk cave branched another that was quite dark, and +smaller; in this, Judith, whose eyes were becoming accustomed to the +twilight, thought she saw the bows of a smaller boat, also painted +gray. + +"Jamie!" said Judith, now in serious alarm; "we ought not to be here. +It is not safe. Do--do come away at once." + +"Why, what is there to harm us?" + +"My dear, do come away." She turned to retrace her steps, but Jamie +stopped her. + +"Not that way, Ju! I have another by which to get out. Follow me +still." + +He led the way up the steep rubble slope, and the light fell fuller +from above. The cave was one of those into which when the sea rolls +and chokes the entrance, the compressed air is driven out by a second +orifice. + +They reached a sort of well or shaft, at the bottom of which they +stood, but it did not open vertically but bent over somewhat, so that +from below the sky could not be seen, though the light entered. A +narrow path was traced in the side, and up this Jamie and the dog +scrambled, followed by Judith, who was most anxious to escape from a +place which she had no doubt was one of the shelter caves of the +smugglers--perhaps of Cruel Coppinger, whose house was not a mile +distant. + +The ascent was steep, the path slippery in places, and therefore +dangerous. Jamie made nothing of it, nor did the little dog, but +Judith picked her way with care; she had a good steady head, and did +not feel giddy, but she was not sure that her feet might not slide in +the clay where wet with water that dripped from the sides. As she +neared the entrance she saw that hartstongue and maidenhair fern had +rooted themselves in the sheltered nooks of this tunnel. + +After a climb of a hundred feet she came out on a ledge in the face of +the cliff above the bay, to see, with a gasp of dismay, her brother in +the hand of Cruel Coppinger, the boy paralyzed with fear so that he +could neither stir nor cry out. + +"What!" exclaimed the Captain, "you here?" as he saw Judith stand +before him. + +The puppy was barking and snapping at his boots. Coppinger let go +Jamie, stooped and caught the dog by the neck. "Look at me," said the +smuggler sternly, addressing the frightened boy. Then he swung the dog +above his head and dashed it down the cliffs; it caught, then rolled, +and fell out of sight--certainly with the life beaten out of it. + +"This will be done to you," said he; "I do not say that I would do it. +She"--he waved his hand toward Judith--"stands between us. But if any +of the fifteen to twenty men who know this place and come here should +chance to meet you as I have met you, he would treat you without +compunction as I have treated that dog. And if he were to catch you +below--you have heard of Wyvill, the Preventive man?--you would fare +as did he. Thank your sister that you are alive now. Go on--that +way--up the cliff." He pointed with a telescope he held. + +Jamie fled up the steep path like the wind. + +"Judith," said Coppinger, "will you stand surety that he does not tell +tales?" + +"I do not believe he will say anything." + +"I do not ask you to be silent. I know you will not speak. But if you +mistrust his power to hold his tongue, send him away--send him out of +the country--as you love him." + +"He shall never come here again," said Judith, earnestly. + +"That is well; he owes his life to you." + +Judith noticed that Cruel Coppinger's left arm was no more in a sling, +nor in bands. + +He saw that she observed this, and smiled grimly. "I have my freedom +with this arm once more--for the first time to-day." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +IN THE DUSK. + + +"Kicking along, Mr. Menaida, old man?" asked Mr. Scantlebray, in his +loud, harsh voice, as he shook himself inside the door of Uncle +Zachie's workshop. "And the little 'uns? Late in life to become nurse +and keep the bottle and pap-bowl going, eh, old man? How's the +orphings? Eating their own weight of victuals at twopence-ha'penny a +head, eh? My experience of orphings isn't such as would make a man +hilarious, and feel that he was filling his pockets." + +"Sit you down, sir; you'll find a chair. Not that one, there's a dab +of arsenical paste got on to that. Sit you down, sir, over against me. +Glad to see you and have some one to talk to. Here am I slaving all +day, worn to fiddlestrings. There's Squire Rashleigh, of Menabilly, +must have a glaucous gull stuffed at once that he has shot; and +there's Sir John St. Aubyn, of Clowance, must have a case of +kittiwakes by a certain day; and an institution in London wants a +genuine specimen of a Cornish chough. Do they think I'm a tradesman to +be ordered about? That I've not an income of my own, and that I am +dependent on my customers? I'll do no more. I'll smoke and play the +piano. I've no time to exchange a word with any one. Come, sit down. +What's the news?" + +"It's a bad world," said Mr. Scantlebray, setting himself into a +chair. "That's to say, the world is well enough if it warn't for there +being too many rascals in it. I consider it's a duty on all +right-thinking men to clear them off." + +"Well, the world would be better if we had the making of it," +acquiesced Mr. Menaida. "Bless you! I've no time for anything. I like +to do a bit of bird-stuffing just as a sort of relaxation after +smoking, but to be forced to work more than one cares--I won't do it! +Besides, it is not wholesome. I shall be poisoned with arsenic. I must +have some antidote. So will you, sir--eh? A drop of real first-rate +cognac?" + +"Thank you, sir--old man--I don't mind dipping a feather and drawing +it across my lips." + +Jamie had been so frightened by the encounter with Cruel Coppinger +that he was thoroughly upset. He was a timid, nervous child, and +Judith had persuaded him to go to bed. She sat by him, holding his +hand, comforting him as best she might, when he sobbed over the loss +of his pup, and cheering him when he clung to her in terror at the +reminiscence of the threats of the Captain to deal with him as he had +with Tib. Judith was under no apprehension of his revisiting the cave; +he had been too thoroughly frightened ever to venture there again. She +said nothing to impress this on him; all her efforts were directed +toward allaying his alarms. + +Just as she hoped that he was dropping off into unconsciousness, he +suddenly opened his eyes, and said, "Ju." + +"Yes, dear." + +"I've lost the chain." + +"What chain, my pretty?" + +"Tib's chain." + +The pup had been a trouble when Jamie went with the creature through +the village or through a farm-yard. He would run after and nip the +throats of chickens. Tib and his master had got into trouble on this +account; accordingly Judith had turned out a light steel chain, +somewhat rusty, and a dog collar from among the sundries that +encumbered the drawers and closets of the rectory. This she had given +to her brother, and whenever the little dog was near civilization he +was obliged to submit to the chain. + +Judith, to console Jamie for his loss, had told him that in all +probability another little dog might be procured to be his companion. +Alas! the collar was on poor Tib, but she represented to him that if +another dog were obtained it would be possible to buy or beg a collar +for him, supposing a collar to be needful. This had satisfied Jamie, +and he was about to doze off, when suddenly he woke to say that the +chain was lost. + +"Where did you lose the chain, Jamie?" + +"I threw it down." + +"Why did you do that?" + +"I thought I shouldn't want it when Tib was gone." + +"And where did you throw it? Perhaps it may be found again." + +"I won't go and look for it--indeed I won't." He shivered and clung to +his sister. + +"Where was it? Perhaps I can find it." + +"I dropped it at the top--on the down when I came up the steps +from--from that man, when he had killed Tib." + +"You did not throw it over the cliff?" + +"No--I threw it down. I did not think I wanted it any more." + +"I dare say it may be found. I will go and see." + +"No--no! Don't, Ju. You might meet that man." + +Judith smiled. She felt that she was not afraid of that man--he would +not hurt her. + +As soon as the boy was asleep, Judith descended the stairs, leaving +the door ajar, that she might hear should he wake in a fright, and +entering the little sitting-room, took up her needles and wool, and +seated herself quietly by the window, where the last glimmer of +twilight shone, to continue her work at a jersey she was knitting for +Jamie's use in the winter. + +The atmosphere was charged with tobacco-smoke, almost as much as that +of the adjoining workshop. There was no door between the rooms; none +had been needed formerly, and Mr. Menaida did not think of supplying +one now. It was questionable whether one would have been an advantage, +as Jamie ran to and fro, and would be certain either to leave the door +open or to slam it, should one be erected. Moreover, a door meant +payment to a carpenter for timber and labor. There was no carpenter in +the village, and Mr. Menaida spent no more money than he was +absolutely obliged to spend, and how could he on an annuity of fifty +pounds. + +Judith dropped her woolwork in her lap and fell into meditation. She +reviewed what had just taken place: she saw before her again +Coppinger, strongly built, with his dark face, and eyes that glared +into the soul to its lowest depths, illumining all, not as the sun, +but as the lightning, and suffering not a thought, not a feeling to +remain obscure. + +A second time had Jamie done what angered him, but on this occasion +he had curbed his passion and had contented himself with a +threat--nay, not even that--with a caution. He had expressly told +Jamie, that he himself would not hurt him, but that he ran into danger +from others. + +She was again looking at Coppinger as he spoke; she saw the changes in +his face, the alterations of expression in his eyes, in his +intonation. She recalled the stern, menacing tone in which he had +spoken to Jamie, and then the inflexion of voice as he referred to +her. A dim surmise--a surmise she was ashamed to allow could be +true--rose in her mind and thrilled her with alarm. Was it possible +that he _liked_ her--liked--she could, she would give even in thought +no other term to describe that feeling which she feared might possibly +have sprung up in his breast. That he liked her--after all she had +done? Was that why he had come to the cottage the day after his +accident? Was that what had prompted the strange note sent to her +along with the keg of spirits to Uncle Zachie? Was that the meaning of +the offer of the choice of all his treasures?--of the vehemence with +which he had seized her hand and had kissed it? Was that the +interpretation of those words of excuse in which he had declared her +his queen? If this were so, then much that had been enigmatical in his +conduct was explained--his interference with the valuers for +dilapidations, the strange manner in which he came across her path +almost whenever she went to the rectory. And this was the +signification of the glow in his eyes, the quaver in his voice, when +he addressed her. + +Was it so?--could it be so?--that he liked her?--he--Cruel +Coppinger--_Cruel_ Coppinger--the terror of the country round--liked +_her_, the weakest creature that could be found? + +The thought of such a possibility frightened her. That the wild +smuggler-captain should hate her she could have borne with better than +that he should like her. That she was conscious of a sense of pleased +surprise, intermixed with fear, was inevitable, for Judith was a +woman, and there was something calculated to gratify feminine pride in +the presumption that the most lawless and headstrong man on the +Cornish coast should have meant what he said when he declared himself +her subject. + +These thoughts, flushing and paling her cheek, quickening and staying +her pulse, so engrossed Judith that, though she heard the voices in +the adjoining apartment, she paid no heed to what was said. + +The wind, which had been fresh all day, was blowing stronger. It +battered at the window where Judith sat, as though a hand struck and +brushed over the panes. + +"Hot or cold?" asked Uncle Zachie. + +"Thanky', neither. Water can be got everywhere, but such brandy as +this, old man--only here." + +"You are good to say so. It is Coppinger's present to me." + +"Coppinger!--his very good health, and may he lie in clover to-morrow +night. He's had one arm bound, I've seen; perhaps he may have two +before the night grows much older." + +Mr. Menaida raised his brows. + +"I do not understand you." + +"I daresay not," said Scantlebray. "It's the duty of all right-minded +men to clear the world of rascals. I will do my duty, please the pigs. +Would you mind--just another drop?" + +After his glass had been refilled, Mr. Scantlebray leaned back in his +chair and said: + +"It's a wicked world, and, between you and me and the sugar dissolving +at the bottom of my glass, you won't find more rascality anywhere than +in my profession, and one of the biggest rascals in it is Mr. +Cargreen. He's on the side against the orphings. If you've the faculty +of pity in you, pity them--first, because they've him agin' 'em, and, +secondly, because they've lost me as their protector. You know whom +they got in place of me? I wish them joy of him. But they won't have +his wing over them long, I can tell you." + +"You think not?" + +"Sure of it." + +"You think he'll throw it up?" + +"I rather suspect he won't be at liberty to attend to it. He'll want +his full attention to his own consarns." + +Mr. Scantlebray tipped off his glass. + +"It's going to be a dirty night," said he. "You won't mind my spending +an hour or two with you, will you?" + +"I shall be delighted. Have you any business in the place?" + +"Business--no. A little pleasure, maybe." After a pause, he said, +"But, old man, I don't mind telling you what it is. You are mum, I +know. It is this--the trap will shut to-night. Snap it goes, and the +rats are fast. You haven't been out on the cliffs to-day, have you?" + +"No--bless me!--no, I have not." + +"The Black Prince is in the offing." + +"The Black Prince?" + +"Ay, and she will run her cargo ashore to-night. Now, I'm one who +knows a little more than most. I'm one o' your straightfor'ard 'uns, +always ready to give a neighbor a lift in my buggy, and a helping hand +to the man that is down, and a frank, outspoken fellow am I to every +one I meet--so that, knocking about as I do, I come to know and to +hear more than do most, and I happen to have learnt into what cove the +Black Prince will run her goods. I've a bone to pick with Captain +Cruel, so I've let the Preventive men have the contents of my +information-pottle, and they will be ready to-night for Coppinger and +the whole party of them. The cutter will slip in between them and the +sea, and a party will be prepared to give them the kindliest welcome +by land. That is the long and short of it--and, old man, I shall +dearly love to be there and see the sport. That is why I wish to be +with you for an hour or two. Will you come as well?" + +"Bless me!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "not I! You don't suppose Coppinger +and his men will allow themselves to be taken easily? There'll be a +fight." + +"And pistols go off," said Scantlebray. "I shall not be surprised or +sorry if Captain Cruel be washed up one of these next tides with a +bullet through his head. Ebenezer Wyvill is one of the guards, and he +has his brother's death to avenge." + +"Do you really believe that Coppinger killed him?" + +Mr. Scantlebray shrugged his shoulders. "It don't matter much what _I_ +think, to-night, but what the impression is that Ebenezer Wyvill +carries about with him. I imagine that if Ebenezer comes across the +Captain he won't speak to him by word of mouth, nor trouble himself to +feel for a pair of handcuffs. So--fill my glass again, old man, and +we'll drink to a cold bed and an indigestible lump--somewhere--in his +head or in his gizzard--to Cruel Coppinger, and the wiping off of old +scores--always a satisfaction to honest men." Scantlebray rubbed his +hands. "It is a satisfaction to the conscience--to ferret out the rats +sometimes." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +WARNING OF DANGER. + + +Judith, lost for awhile in her dreams, had been brought to a sense of +what was the subject of conversation in the adjoining room by the +mention of Coppinger's name more than once. She heard the desultory +talk for awhile without giving it much attention, but Scantlebray's +voice was of that harsh and penetrating nature that to exclude it the +ears must be treated as Ulysses treated the ears of his mariners as he +passed the rock of the Sirens. + +Presently she became alive to the danger in which Coppinger stood. +Scantlebray spoke plainly, and she understood. There could be no doubt +about it. The Black Prince belonged to the Captain, and his dealings +with and through that vessel were betrayed. Not only was Coppinger, as +the head of a gang of smugglers, an object worth capture to the +Preventive men, but the belief that he had caused the death of at +least one of their number had embittered them against him to such an +extent that, when the opportunity presented itself to them of +capturing him red-handed engaged in his smuggling transactions, they +were certain to deal with him in a way much more summary than the +processes of a court of a justice. The brother of the man who had been +murdered was among the coast-guard, and he would not willingly let +slip a chance of avenging the death of Jonas Wyvill. Coppinger was not +in a condition to defend himself effectively. On that day for the +first time, had he left off his bandages, and his muscles were stiff +and the newly set bones still weak. + +What was to be done? Could Judith go to bed and let Coppinger run into +the net prepared for his feet--go to his death? + +No sooner, however, had Judith realized the danger that menaced +Coppinger than she resolved on doing her utmost to avert it. She, and +she alone, could deliver him from the disgrace, if not the death, that +menaced him. + +She stole lightly from the room and got her cloak, drew the hood over +her head, and sallied forth into the night. Heavy clouds rolled over +the sky, driven before a strong gale. Now and then they opened and +disclosed the twilight sky, in which faintly twinkled a few stars, and +at such times a dim light fell over the road, but in another moment +lumbering masses of vapor were carried forward, blotting out the clear +tract of sky, and at the same time blurring all objects on earth with +one enveloping shadow. + +Judith's heart beat furiously, and timidity came over her spirit as +she left the cottage, for she was unaccustomed to be outside the house +at such an hour; but the purpose she had before her eyes gave her +strength and courage. It seemed to her that Providence had suddenly +constituted her the guardian angel of Coppinger, and she flattered +herself that, were she to be the means of delivering him from the +threatened danger, she might try to exact of him a promise to +discontinue so dangerous and so questionable a business. If this night +she were able to give him warning in time, it would be some return +made for his kindness to her, and some reparation made for the injury +she had done him. When for an instant there was a rift in the clouds, +and she could look up and see the pure stars, it seemed to her that +they shone down on her like angels' eyes, watching, encouraging, and +promising her protection. She thought of her father--of how his mind +had been set against Coppinger; now, she felt convinced, he saw that +his judgment had been warped, and that he would bless her for doing +that which she had set her mind to accomplish. Her father had been +ever ready frankly to acknowledge himself in the wrong when he had +been convinced that he was mistaken, and now in the light of eternity, +with eyes undarkened by prejudice, he must know that he was in error +in his condemnation of Coppinger, and be glad that his daughter was +doing something to save that man from an untimely and bloody death. + +Not a soul did Judith meet or pass on her way. She had determined in +the first case to go to Pentyre Glaze. She would see if Captain Cruel +were there. She trusted he was at his house. If so, her course was +simple; she would warn him and return to Mr. Menaida's cottage as +quickly as her feet would bear her. The wind caught her cloak, and she +turned in alarm, fancying that it was plucked by a human hand. No one, +however, was behind her. + +In Pentyre lane it was dark, very dark. The rude half-walls, +half-hedges stood up high, walled toward the lane hedged with earth +and planted with thorns toward the field. The wind hissed through the +bushes; there was an ash tree by a gate. One branch sawed against +another, producing a weird, even shrill sound like a cry. + +The way led past a farm, and she stole along before it with the utmost +fear as she heard the dog in the yard begin to bark furiously, and as +she believed that it was not chained up, might rush forth at her. It +might fall upon her, and hold her there till the farmer came forth and +found her, and inquired into the reason of her being there at night. +If found and recognized, what excuse could she give? What explanation +could satisfy the inquisitive? + +She did not breathe freely till she had come out on the down; the dog +was still barking, but, as he had not pursued her, she was satisfied +that he was not at large. Her way now lay for a while over open +common, and then again entered a lane between the hedges that enclosed +the fields and meadows of the Glaze. + +A dense darkness fell over the down, and Judith for a while was +uncertain of her way, the track being undistinguishable from the short +turf on either side. Suddenly she saw some flashes of light that ran +along the ground and then disappeared. + +"This is the road," said a voice. + +Judith's heart stood still, and her blood curdled in her veins. If the +cloud were to roll away--and she could see far off its silvery fringe, +she would become visible. The voice was that of a man, but whether +that of a smuggler or of a coast-guard she could not guess. By neither +did she care to be discovered. By the dim, uncertain light she stole +off the path, and sank upon the ground among some masses of gorse that +stood on the common. Between the prickly tufts she might lie, and in +her dark cloak be mistaken for a patch of furze. She drew her feet +under the skirt, that the white stockings might not betray her, and +plucked the hood of her cloak closely round her face. The gorse was +sharp, and the spikes entered her hands and feet, and pricked her as +she turned herself about between the bushes to bring herself deeper +among them. + +From where she lay she could see the faintly illumined horizon, and +against that horizon figures were visible, one--then another--a +third--she could not count accurately, for there came several +together; but she was convinced there must have been over a dozen men. + +"It's a'most too rough to-night, I reckon," said one of the men. + +"No, it is not--the wind is not direct on shore. They'll try it." + +"Coppinger and his chaps are down in the cove already," said a third. +"They wouldn't go out if they wasn't expecting the boats from the +Black Prince." + +"You are sure they're down, Wyvill?" + +"Sure and sartain. I seed 'em pass, and mighty little I liked to let +'em go by--without a pop from my pistol. But I'd my orders. No orders +against the pistol going off of itself, Captain, if I have a chance +presently?" + +No answer was given to this; but he who had been addressed as Captain +asked-- + +"Are the asses out?" + +"Yes; a whole score, I reckon." + +"Then they'll come up the mule path. We must watch that. Lieutenant +Hanson will be ready with the cutter to run out and stop their way +back by water to the Prince. The Prince's men will take to the sea, +and he'll settle with them; but Coppinger's men will run up the +cliffs, and we must tackle them. Go on." + +Several now disappeared into the darkness, moving toward the sea. + +"Here, a word with you, Wyvill," said the Captain. + +"Right, sir--here I be." + +"Dash it!--it is so dark! Here, step back--a word in your ear." + +"Right you are, sir." + +They came on to the turf close to where Judith crouched. + +"What is that?" said the Captain, hastily. + +"What, sir?" + +"I thought I trod on something like cloth. Have you a light?" + +"No, sir! Home has the dark lantern." + +"I suppose it is nothing. What is all that dark stuff there?" + +"I'll see, sir," said Wyvill, stooping, and with his hand. "By George, +sir! it's naught but fuzz." + +"Very well, Wyvill--a word between us. I know that if you have the +chance you intend to send a bullet into Coppinger. I don't blame you. +I won't say I wouldn't do it--unofficially--but looky' here, man, if +you can manage without a bullet--say a blow with the butt-end on his +forehead and a roll over the cliffs--I'd prefer it. In self-defence of +course we must use fire-arms. But there's some squeamish stomachs, you +understand; and if it can come about accidentally, as it were--as if +he'd missed his footing--I'd prefer it. Make it pleasant all around, +if you can." + +"Yes, sir; leave it to me." + +"It oughtn't to be difficult, you know, Wyvill. I hear he's broke one +arm, so is like to be insecure in his hold climbing the cliffs. Then +no questions asked, and more pleasant, you know. You understand me?" + +"Yes, sir; thank you, sir." + +Then they went on, and were lost to sight and to hearing. For some +minutes Judith did not stir. She lay, recovering her breath; she had +hardly ventured to breathe while the two men were by her, the Captain +with his foot on her skirt. Now she remained motionless, to consider +what was to be done. It was of no further use her going on to Pentyre +Glaze. Coppinger had left it. Wyvill, who had been planted as spy, had +seen him with his carriers defile out of the lane with the asses that +were to bring up the smuggled goods from the shore. + +She dare not take the path by which on the preceding afternoon she had +descended with Jamie to the beach, for it was guarded by the +Preventive men. + +There was but one way by which she could reach the shore and warn +Coppinger, and that was by the chimney of the cave--a way dangerous in +daylight, one, moreover, not easy to find at night. The mouth of the +chimney opened upon a ledge that overhung the sea half-way down the +face of the precipice, and this ledge could only be reached by a +narrow track--a track apparently traced by sheep. + +Judith thought that she might find her way to that part of the down +from which the descent was to be made; for she had noticed that what +is locally called a "new-take" wall came near it, and if she could hit +this wall, she believed she could trace it up to where it approached +the cliff: and the track descended somewhere thereabouts. She waited +where she lay till the heavy clouds rolled by, and for a brief space +the sky was comparatively clear. Then she rose, and took the direction +in which she ought to go to reach the "new-take" wall. As she went +over the down, she heard the sea roaring threateningly; on her left +hand the glint of the light-house on Trevose Head gave her the +direction she must pursue. But, on a down like that, with a precipice +on one hand, in a light, uncertain at best, often in complete +darkness, it was dangerous to advance except by thrusting the foot +forward tentatively before taking a step. The sea and the gnawing +winds caused the cliffs to crumble; bits were eaten out of the +surface, and in places there were fissures in the turf where a rent +had formed, and where shortly a mass would fall. + +It is said that the duties on customs were originally instituted in +order to enable the Crown to afford protection to trade against +pirates. The pirates ceased to infest the seas, but the duties were +not only taken off, but were increased, and became a branch of the +public revenue. Perhaps some consciousness that the profits were not +devoted to the purpose originally intended, bred in the people on the +coast a feeling of resentment against the imposition of duties. There +certainly existed an impression, a conviction rather, that the +violation of a positive law of this nature was in no respect criminal. +Adventurers embarked in the illicit traffic without scruple, as they +did in poaching. The profit was great, and the danger run enhanced the +excitement of the pursuit, and gave a sort of heroic splendor to the +achievements of the successful smuggler. + +The Government, to stop a traffic that injured legitimate trade and +affected the revenue, imposed severe penalties. Smuggling was classed +among the felonies, "without benefit of clergy," the punishment for +which was death and confiscation of goods. The consciousness that +they would be dealt with with severity did not deter bold men from +engaging in the traffic, but made them desperate in self-defence when +caught. Conflicts with revenue officers were not uncommon, and lives +were lost on both sides. The smugglers were not bound together by any +link, and sometimes one gang was betrayed by another, so as to divert +suspicion and attention from their own misdeeds, or out of jealousy, +or on account of a quarrel. It was so on this occasion: the success of +Coppinger, the ingenuity with which he had carried on his defiance of +the law, caused envy of him, because he was a foreigner--was, at all +events, not a Cornishman; this had induced a rival to give notice to +the Revenue officers, through Scantlebray--a convenient go-between in +a good many questionable negotiations. The man who betrayed Coppinger +dared not be seen entering into communication with the officers of the +law. He, therefore, employed Scantlebray as the vehicle through whom, +without suspicion resting on himself, his rival might be fallen upon +and his proceedings brought to an end. + +It was now very dark. Judith had reached and touched a wall; but in +the darkness lost her bearings. The Trevose light was no longer +visible, and directly she left the wall to strike outward she became +confused as direction, and in the darkness groped along with her feet, +stretching her hands before her. Then the rain came down, lashing in +her face. The wind had shifted somewhat during the evening, and it was +no guidance to Judith to feel from what quarter the rain drove against +her. Moreover, the cove formed a great curve in the coast-line, and +was indented deeply in some places, so that to grope round the edge +without light in quest of a point only seen or noticed once, seemed a +desperate venture. Suddenly Judith's foot caught. It was entangled, +and she could not disengage it. She stooped, and put her hand on a +chain. It was Jamie's steel dog-chain, one link of which had caught in +a tuft of rest-harrow. + +She had found the spot she wanted, and now waited only till the rain +had rushed further inland, and a fringe of light appeared in the sky, +to advance to the very edge of the cliff. She found it expedient to +stoop as she proceeded, so as to discover some indications of the +track. There were depressions where feet had worn the turf, and she +set hers therein, and sought the next. Thus, creeping and groping, she +neared the edge. + +And now came the moment of supreme peril, when, trusting that she had +found the right path, she must go over the brink. If she were +mistaken, the next step would send her down two hundred feet, to where +she heard the roar, and felt the breath of the sea stream up to her +from the abyss. Here she could distinguish nothing; she must trust to +Providence to guide her steps. She uttered a short and earnest prayer, +and then boldly descended. She could not stoop now. To stoop was to +dive headlong down. She felt her way, however, with her feet, reached +one firm station, then another. Her hands touched the grass and earth +of the ragged margin, then with another step she was below it, and +held to the rain-splashed fangs of rock. + +Clinging, with her face inward, feeling with her feet, and never sure +but that the next moment might see her launched into air, she stole +onward, slowly, cautiously, and ever with the gnawing dread in her +heart lest she should be too late. One intense point of consciousness +stood out in her brain--it told her that if, while thus creeping down, +there should come the flash and explosion of fire-arms, her courage +would fail, her head would spin, and she would be lost. + +How long she was descending she could not tell, how many steps she +took was unknown to her--she had not counted--but it seemed to her an +entire night that passed, with every change of position an hour was +marked; then, at last, she was conscious that she stood on more level +ground. She had reached the terrace. + +A little further, and on her left hand, would open the mouth of the +shaft, and she must descend that, in profoundest darkness. A cry! A +light flashed into her eyes and dazzled her. A hand at the same moment +clutched her, or she would have reeled back and gone over the cliff. + +The light was held to pour over her face. Who held it and who grasped +her she could not see; but she knew the moment she heard a voice +exclaim-- + +"Judith!" + +In her terror and exhaustion she could but gasp for breath for a few +moments. + +By degrees her firmness and resolution returned, and she exclaimed, +in broken tones, panting between every few words-- + +"Captain Cruel!--you are betrayed--they are after you!" + +He did not press her. He waited till she could speak again, lowering +the lantern. + +Then, without the glare in her eyes, she was able to speak more +freely. + +"There is a boat--a Revenue cutter--waiting in the +bay--and--above--are the Preventive men--and they will kill you." + +"Indeed," said he. "And you have come to warn me?" + +"Yes." + +"Tell me--are there any above, where you came down!" + +"None; they are on the ass-path." + +"Can you ascend as you came down?" + +"Yes." + +He extinguished his lantern, or covered it. + +"I must no more show light. I must warn those below." He paused, then +said-- + +"Dare you mount alone." + +"I came down alone." + +"Then do this one thing more for me. Mount, and go to Pentyre. Tell +your aunt--three lights--red, white, red; then ten minutes, and then, +red, red, white. Can you remember? Repeat after me: 'Three +lights--red, white, red; then, ten minutes, and next, red, red, and +white.'" + +Judith repeated the words. + +"That is right. Lose no time. I dare not give you a light. None must +now be shown. The boat from the Black Prince is not in--this lantern +was her guide. Now it is out she will go back. You will remember the +signals? I thank you for what you have done. There is but one woman +would have done it, and that Judith." + +He stepped inside the shaft to descend. When hidden, he allowed his +light again to show, to assist him in his way down. Judith only waited +till her eyes, that had been dazzled by the light, were recovered, and +then she braced herself to resume her climb; but now it was to be up +the cliff. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +CHAINED. + + +To ascend is easier than to go down. Judith was no longer alarmed. +There was danger still, that was inevitable; but the danger was as +nothing now to what it had been. It is one thing to descend in total +darkness into an abyss where one knows that below are sharp rocks, and +a drop of two hundred feet to a thundering, raging sea, racing up the +sand, pouring over the shelves of rock, foaming where divided waves +clash. When Judith had been on the beach in the afternoon the tide was +out; now it was flowing, and had swept over all that tract of white +sand and pebble where she had walked. She could not indeed now see the +water, but she heard the thud of a billow as it smote a rock, the boil +and the hiss of the waves and spray. To step downward, groping the +way, with a depth and a wild-throbbing sea beneath, demanded courage, +and courage of no mean order; but it was other to mount, to be able to +feel with the foot the ascent in the track, and to grope upward with +the hand from one point of clutch to another, to know that every step +upward was lessening the peril, and bringing nearer to the sward and +to safety. + +Without great anxiety, therefore, Judith turned to climb. Cruel +Coppinger had allowed her to essay it unaided. Would he have done that +had he thought it involved danger, or, rather, serious danger? Judith +was sure he would not. His confidence that she could climb to the +summit unassisted made her confident. As she had descended she had +felt an interior qualm and sinking at every step she took; there was +no such sensation now as she mounted. + +She was not much inconvenienced by the wind, for the wind was not +directly on shore; but it soughed about her, and eddies caught her +cloak and jerked it. It would have been better had she left her cloak +above on the turf. It incommoded her in her climb; it caught in the +prongs of rock. + +The rain, the water running off the rock, had wet her shoes, soaked +them, and every step was in moisture that oozed out of them. She was +glad now to rest on her right hand. In descending, the left had felt +and held the rock, and it had been rubbed and cut. Probably it was +bleeding. + +Surely there was a little more light in the sky where the sky showed +between the dense masses of vapor. Judith did not observe this, for +she did not look aloft; but she could see a steely tract of sea, +fretted into foam, reflecting an illumination from above, greater than +the twilight could cast. Then she remembered that there had been a +moon a few nights before, and thought that it was probably risen by +this time. + +Something chill and wet brushed her face. It startled her for a +moment, and then she knew by the scent that it was a bunch of samphire +growing out of the side of the crag. + +Shrill in her ear came the scream of a gull that rushed by in the +darkness, and she felt, or believed she felt, the fan from the wings. +Again it screamed, and near the ear it pierced her brain like an awl, +and then again, still nearer, unnerving her. In the darkness she +fancied that this gull was about to attack her with beak and claws, +and she put up her left arm as a protection to her eyes. Then there +broke out a jabber of sea-birds' voices, laughing mockingly, at a +little distance. + +Whither had she got! + +The way was no longer easy--one step before another--there was a break +of continuity in the path, if path the track could be called. + +Judith stood still, and put forward her foot to test the rock in +front. There was no place where it could rest. Had she, bewildered by +that gull, diverged from the track? It would be well to retreat a few +steps. She endeavored to do this, and found that she encountered a +difficulty in finding the place where she had just planted her foot. + +It was but too certain that she was off the track line. How to recover +it she knew not. With the utmost difficulty she did reach a point in +her rear where she could stand, clinging to the rock; but she clung +now with both hands. There was no tuft of samphire to brush her face +as she descended. She must have got wrong before she touched that. But +where was the samphire? She cautiously felt along the surface of the +crag in quest of it, but could not find it. There was, however, a +little above her shoulder, a something that felt like a ledge, and +which might be the track. If she had incautiously crept forward at a +level without ascending rapidly enough, she was probably below the +track. Could she climb to this point--climb up the bare rock, with +sheer precipice below her? And, supposing that the shelf she felt with +her hand were not the track, could she descend again to the place +where she had been? + +Her brain spun. She lost all notion as to where she might be--perhaps +she was below the path, perhaps she was above it. She could not tell. +She stood with arms extended, clinging to the rock, and her heart beat +in bounds against the flinty surface. The clasp of her cloak was +pressing on her throat, and strangling her. The wind had caught the +garment, and was playing with the folds, carrying it out and flapping +it behind her over the gulf. It was irksome; it was a danger to her. +She cautiously slid one hand to her neck, unhasped the mantle, and it +was snatched from her shoulders and carried away. She was lighter +without it, could move with greater facility; cold she was not, wet +she might become, but what mattered that if she could reach the top of +the cliff? + +Not only on her own account was Judith alarmed. She had undertaken a +commission. She had promised to bear a message to her aunt from +Coppinger that concerned the safety of his men. What the signal meant +she did not know, but suspected that it conveyed a message of danger. + +She placed both her hands on the ledge, and felt with her knee for +some point on which to rest it, to assist her in lifting herself from +where she stood to the higher elevation. There was a small projection, +and after a moment's hesitation she drew her foot from the shelf +whereon it had rested and leaned the left knee on this hunch. Then she +clung with both hands, and with them and her knee endeavored to heave +herself up about four feet, that is, to the height of her shoulders. A +convulsive quiver seized on her muscles. She was sustained by a knee +and her hands only. If they gave way she could not trust to recover +her previous lodgement place. One desperate strain, and she was on the +ledge, on both knees, and was feeling with her hands to ascertain if +she had found the track. Her fingers touched thrift and passed over +turf. She had not reached what she sought. She was probably farther +from it than before. As all her members were quivering after the +effort, she seated herself on the shelf she had reached, leaned back +against the wet rock, and waited till her racing pulses had recovered +evenness of flow, and her muscles had overcome the first effects of +their tension. + +Her position was desperate. Rain and perspiration mingled dripped from +her brow, ran over and blinded her eyes. Her breath came in sobs +between her parted lips. Her ears were full of the booming of the +surge far below, and the scarcely less noisy throb of her blood in her +pulses. + +When she had started on her adventurous expedition she had seen some +stars that had twinkled down on her, and had appeared to encourage +her. Now, not a star was visible, only, far off on the sea, a wan +light that fell through a rent in the black canopy over an angry deep. +Beyond that all was darkness, between her and that all was darkness. + +As she recovered her self-possession, with the abatement of the tumult +in her blood she was able to review her position, and calculate her +chances of escape from it. + +Up the track from the cave the smugglers would almost certainly +escape, because that was the only way, unwatched, by which they could +leave the beach without falling into the hands of the Preventive men. + +If they came by the path--that path could not be far off, though in +which direction it lay she could not guess. She would call, and then +Coppinger or some of his men would come to her assistance. + +By this means alone could she escape. There was nothing for her to do +but to wait. + +She bent forward and looked down. She might have been looking into a +well; but a little way out she could see, or imagine she saw, the +white fringes of surf stealing in. There was not sufficient light for +her to be certain whether she really saw foam, or whether her fancy, +excited by the thunder of the tide, made her suppose she saw it. + +The shelf she occupied was narrow and inclined; if she slipped from it +she could not trust to maintain herself on the lower shelf, certainly +not if she slid down in a condition of unconsciousness. And now +reaction after the strain was setting in, and she feared lest she +might faint. In her pocket was the dog-chain that had caught her foot. +She extracted that now, and groping along the wall of rock behind her, +caught a stout tuft of coarse heather, wiry, well rooted; and she took +the little steel chain and wound it about the branches and stem of the +plant, and also about her wrist--her right wrist--so as to fasten her +to the wall. That was some relief to her to know that in the event of +her dropping out of consciousness there was something to hold her up, +though that was only the stem of an erica, and her whole weight would +rest on its rootlets. Would they suffice to sustain her? It was +doubtful; but there was nothing else on which she could depend. + +Suddenly a stone whizzed past, struck the ledge, and rebounded. Then +came a shower of earth and pebbles. They did not touch her, but she +heard them clatter down. + +Surely they had been displaced by a foot, and that a foot passing +above. + +Then she heard a shot--also overhead, and a cry. She looked aloft, and +saw against the half-translucent vapors a black struggling figure on +the edge of the cliff. She saw it but for an instant, and then was +struck on the face by an open hand, and a body crashed on to the shelf +at her side, rolled over the edge, and plunged into the gulf below. + +She tried to cry, but her voice failed her. She felt her cheek stung +by the blow she had received. A feeling as though all the rock were +sinking under her came on, as though she were sliding--not +shooting--but sliding down, down, and the sky went up higher, +higher--and she knew no more. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +ON THE SHINGLE. + + +The smugglers, warned by Coppinger, had crept up the path in silence, +and singly, at considerable intervals between each, and on reaching +the summit of the cliffs had dispersed to their own homes, using the +precaution to strike inland first, over the "new-take" wall. + +As the last of the party reached the top he encountered one of the +coast-guards, who, by the orders of his superior, was patrolling the +down to watch that the smugglers did not leave the cove by any other +path than the one known--that up and down which donkeys were driven. +This donkey-driving to the beach was not pursued solely for the sake +of contraband; the beasts brought up loads of sand, which the farmers +professed they found valuable as manure on their stiff soil, and also +the masses of seaweed cast on the strand after a gale, and which was +considered to be possessed of rare fertilizing qualities. + +No sooner did the coast-guard see a man ascend the cliff, or rather +come up over the edge before him, than he fired his pistol to give the +signal to his fellows, whereupon the smuggler turned, seized him by +the throat, and precipitated him over the edge. + +Of this Coppinger knew nothing. He had led the procession, and had +made his way to Pentyre Glaze by a roundabout route, so as to evade a +guard set to watch for him approaching from the cliffs, should one +have been so planted. + +On reaching his door, his first query was whether the signals had been +made. + +"What signals?" asked Miss Trevisa. + +"I sent a messenger here with instructions." + +"No messenger has been here." + +"What, no one--not--" he hesitated, and said, "not a woman?" + +"Not a soul has been here--man, woman, or child--since you left." + +"No one to see you?" + +"No one at all, Captain." + +Coppinger did not remove his hat; he stood in the doorway biting his +thumb. Was it possible that Judith had shrunk from coming to his house +to bear the message? Yet she had promised to do so. Had she been +intercepted by the Preventive men? Had--had she reached the top of the +cliff? Had she, after reaching the top, lost her way in the dark, +taken a false direction, and--Coppinger did not allow the thought to +find full expression in his brain. He turned, without another word, +and hastened to the cottage of Mr. Menaida. He must ascertain whether +she had reached home. + +Uncle Zachie had not retired to bed; Scantlebray had been gone an +hour; Zachie had drunk with Scantlebray, and he had drunk after the +departure of that individual to indemnify himself for the loss of his +company. Consequently Mr. Menaida was confused in mind and thick in +talk. + +"Where is Judith?" asked Coppinger, bursting in on him. + +"In bed, I suppose," answered Uncle Zachie, after a while, when he +comprehended the question, and had had time to get over his surprise +at seeing the Captain. + +"Are you sure? When did she come in?" + +"Come in?" said the old man, scratching his forehead with his pipe. +"Come in--bless you, I don't know; some time in the afternoon. Yes, to +be sure it was, some time in the afternoon." + +"But she has been out to-night?" + +"No--no--no," said Uncle Zachie, "it was Scantlebray." + +"I say she has--she has been to--" he paused, then said--"to see her +aunt." + +"Aunt Dunes! bless my heart, when?" + +"To-night." + +"Impossible!" + +"But I say she has. Come, Mr. Menaida. Go up to her room, knock at the +door, and ascertain if she be back. Her aunt is alarmed--there are +rough folks about." + +"Why, bless me!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "so there are. And--well, +wonders'll never cease. How came you here! I thought the guard were +after you. Scantlebray said so." + +"Will you go at once and see if Judith Trevisa is home?" + +Coppinger spoke with such vehemence, and looked so threateningly at +the old man, that he staggered out of his chair, and, still holding +his pipe, went to the stairs. + +"Bless me!" said he, "whatever am I about? I've forgot a candle. Would +you oblige me with lighting one? My hand shakes, and I might light my +fingers by mistake." + +After what seemed to Coppinger to be an intolerable length of time, +Uncle Zachie stumbled down the stairs again. + +"I say," said Mr. Menaida, standing on the steps, "Captain--did you +ever hear about Tincombe Lane?-- + + 'Tincombe Lane is all up-hill, + Or down hill, as you take it; + You tumble up and crack your crown, + Or tumble down and break it.' + +--It's the same with these blessed stairs. Would you mind lending me a +hand? By the powers, the banister is not firm! Do you know how it goes +on?-- + + 'Tincombe Lane is crooked and straight + As pot-hook or as arrow. + 'Tis smooth to foot, 'tis full of rut, + 'Tis wide and then 'tis narrow.' + +--Thank you, sir, thank you. Now take the candle. Bah! I've broke my +pipe--and then comes the moral-- + + 'Tincombe Lane is just like life + From when you leave your mother, + 'Tis sometimes this, 'tis sometimes that, + 'Tis one thing or the other.'" + +In vain had Coppinger endeavored to interrupt the flow of words, and +to extract from thick Zachie the information he needed, till the old +gentleman was back in his chair. + +Then Uncle Zachie observed--"Blessy'--I said so--I said so a thousand +times. No--she's not there. Tell Aunt Dunes so. Will you sit down and +have a drop? The night is rough, and it will do you good--take the +chill out of your stomach and the damp out of your chest." + +But Coppinger did not wait to decline the offer. He turned at once, +left the house, and dashed the door back as he stepped out into the +night. He had not gone a hundred paces along the road before he heard +voices, and recognized that of Mr. Scantlebray-- + +"I tell you the vessel is the Black Prince, and I know he was to have +unloaded her to-night." + +"Anyhow he is not doing so. Not a sign of him." + +"The night is too dirty." + +"Wyvill--" Coppinger knew that the Captain at the head of the +coast-guard was speaking. "Wyvill, I heard a pistol-shot. Where is +Jenkyns? If you had not been by me I should have said you had acted +wide of your orders. Has any one seen Jenkyns?" + +"No, sir." + +"Who is that?" + +Suddenly a light flashed forth, and glared upon Coppinger. The Captain +in command of the coast-guard uttered an oath. + +"You out to-night, Mr. Coppinger! Where do you come from?" + +"As you see--from Polzeath." + +"Humph! From no other direction?" + +"I'll trouble you to let me pass." + +Coppinger thrust the Preventive man aside, and went on his way. + +When he was beyond earshot, Scantlebray said--"I trust he did not +notice me along with you. You see, the night is too dirty. Let him +bless his stars, it has saved him." + +"I should like to see Jenkyns," said the officer. "I am almost certain +I heard a pistol-shot; but when I sent in the direction whence it +came, there was no one to be seen. It's a confounded dark night." + +"I hope they've not give us the slip, Captain?" said Wyvill. + +"Impossible," answered the officer. "Impossible. I took every +precaution. They did not go out to-night. As Mr. Scantlebray says, the +night was too dirty." + +Then they went on. + +In the meantime Coppinger was making the best of his way to the downs. +He knew his direction even in the dark--he had the "new-take" wall as +a guide. What the coast-guard did not suspect was that this "new-take" +had been made for the very purpose of serving as a guide by which the +smugglers could find their course in the blackest of winter's nights; +moreover, in the fiercest storm the wall served as a shelter, under +lea of which they might approach their cave. Coppinger was without a +lantern. He doubted if one would avail him, in his quest; moreover, +the night was lightening, as the moon rode higher. + +The smuggler captain stood for a moment on the edge of the cliffs to +consider what course he should adopt to find Judith. If she had +reached the summit, it was possible enough that she had lost her way +and had rambled inland among lanes and across fields, pixy-led. In +that case it was a hopeless task to search for her; moreover, there +would be no particular necessity for him to do so, as, sooner or +later, she must reach a cottage or a farm, where she could learn her +direction. But if she had gone too near the edge, or if, in her +ascent, her foot had slipped, then he must search the shore. The tide +was ebbing now, and left a margin on which he could walk. This was the +course he must adopt. He did not descend by the track to the chimney, +as the creeping down of the latter could be effected in absolute +darkness only with extreme risk; but he bent his way over the down +skirting the crescent indentation of the cove to the donkey-path, +which was now, as he knew, unwatched. By that he swiftly and easily +descended to the beach. Along the shore he crept carefully toward that +portion which was overhung by the precipice along which the way ran +from the mouth of the shaft. The night was mending, or at all events +seemed better. The moon, as it mounted, cast a glimmer through the +least opaque portions of the driving clouds. Coppinger looked up, and +could see the ragged fringe of down torn with gullies, and thrust up +into prongs, black as ink against the gray of the half-translucent +vapors. And near at hand was the long dorsal ridge that concealed the +entrance to the cave, sloping rapidly upward and stretching away +before him into shadow. + +Coppinger mused. If one were to fall from above, would he drop between +the cliff and this curtain, or would he strike and be projected over +it on to the shelving sand up which stole the waves? He knew that the +water eddying against friable sandstone strata that came to the +surface had eaten them out with the wash, and that the hard flakes of +slate and ribs of quartz stood forth, overhanging the cave. Most +certainly, therefore, had Judith fallen, her body must be sought on +the sea-face of the masking ridge. The smuggler stood at the very +point where in the preceding afternoon Jamie and the dog had scrambled +up that fin-like blade of rock and disappeared from the astonished +gaze of Judith. The moon, smothered behind clouds, and yet, in a +measure self-assertive, cast sufficient light down into the cove to +glitter on, and transmute into steel, the sea-washed and smoothed, and +still wet, ridge, sloping inland as a seawall. As Coppinger stood +looking upward he saw in the uncertain light something caught on the +fangs of this saw-ridge, moving uneasily this way, then that, +something dark, obscuring the glossed surface of the rock, as it might +be a mass of gigantic sea-tangles. + +"Judith!" he cried. "Is that you?" and he plunged through the pool +that intervened, and scrambled up the rock. + +He caught something. It was cloth. "Judith! Judith!" he almost +shrieked in anxiety. That which he had laid hold of yielded, and he +gathered to him a garment of some sort, and with it he slid back into +the pool, and waded on to the pebbles. Then he examined his capture by +the uncertain light, and by feel, and convinced himself that it was a +cloak--a cloak with clasp and hood--just such as he had seen Judith +wearing when he flashed his lantern over her on the platform at the +mouth of the shaft. + +He stood for a moment, numbed as though he had been struck on the head +with a mallet, and irresolute. He had feared that Judith had fallen +over the edge, but he had hoped that it was not so. This discovery +seemed to confirm his worst fears. + +If the cloak were there--she also would probably be there also, a +broken heap. She who had thrown him down and broken him, had been +thrown down herself, and broken also--thrown down and broken because +she had come to rescue him from danger. Coppinger put his hand to his +head. His veins were beating as though they would burst the vessels in +his temples, and suffuse his face with blood. As he stood thus +clasping his brow with his right hand, the clouds were swept for an +instant aside, and for an instant the moon sent down a weird glare +that ran like a wave along the sand, leaped impediments, scrambled up +rocks, and flashed in the pools. For one moment only--but that +sufficed to reveal to him a few paces ahead a black heap: there was no +mistaking it. The rounded outlines were not those of a rock. It was a +human body lying on the shingle half immersed in the pool at the foot +of the reef! + +A cry of intensest, keenest anguish burst from the heart of Coppinger. +Prepared though he was for what he must see by the finding of the +cloak, the sight of that motionless and wrecked body was more than he +could endure with composure. In the darkness that ensued after the +moon-gleam he stepped forward, slowly, even timidly, to where that +human wreck lay, and knelt on both knees beside it on the wet sand. + +He waited. Would the moon shine out again and show him what he dreaded +seeing? He would not put down a hand to touch it. One still clasped +his brow, the other he could not raise so high, and he held it against +his breast where it had lately been strapped. He tried to hold his +breath, to hear if any sound issued from what lay before him. He +strained his eyes to see if there were any, the slightest movement in +it. Yet he knew there could be none. A fall from these cliffs above +must dash every spark of life out of a body that reeled down them. He +turned his eyes upward to see if the cloud would pass; but no--it +seemed to be one that was all-enveloping, unwilling to grant him that +glimpse which must be had, but which would cause him acutest anguish. + +He could not remain kneeling there in suspense any longer. In +uncertainty he was not. The horror was before him--and must be faced. + +He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew forth tinder-box and +flint. With a hand that had never trembled before, but now shaking as +with an ague, he struck a light. The sparks flew about, and were long +in igniting the touchwood. But finally it was kindled, and glowed red. +The wind fanned it into fitful flashes, as Coppinger, stooping, held +the lurid spark over the prostrate form, and passed it up and down on +the face. Then suddenly it fell from his hand, and he drew a gasp. +The dead face was that of a bearded man. + +A laugh--a wild, boisterous laugh--rang out into the night, and was +re-echoed by the cliff, as Coppinger leaped to his feet. There was +hope still. Judith had not fallen. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +FOR LIFE OR DEATH. + + +Coppinger did not hesitate a moment now to leave the corpse on the +beach where he had found it, and to hasten to the cave. + +There was a third alternative to which hitherto he had given no +attention. Judith, in ascending the cliff, might have strayed from the +track, and be in such a position that she could neither advance nor +draw back. He would, therefore, explore the path from the chimney +mouth, and see if any token could be found of her having so done. + +He again held his smouldering tinder and by this feeble glimmer made +his way up the inclined beach within the cave, passed under the arch +of the rock where low, and found himself in that portion where was the +boat. + +Here he knew of a receptacle for sundries, such as might be useful in +an emergency, and to that he made his way, and drew from it a piece of +candle and a lantern. He speedily lighted the candle, set it in the +lantern, and then ascended the chimney. + +On reaching the platform at the orifice in the face of the rock, it +occurred to him that he had forgotten to bring rope with him. He would +not return for that, unless he found a need for it. Rope there was +below, of many yards length. Till he knew that it was required, it +seemed hardly worth his while to encumber himself with a coil that +might be too long or too short for use. He did not even know that he +would find Judith. It was a chance, that was all. It was more probable +that she had strayed on the down, and was now back at Polzeath, and +safe and warm in bed. + +From the ledge in front of the shaft Coppinger proceeded with caution +and leisure, exploring every portion of the ascent with lowered +lantern. There were plenty of impressions of feet wherever the soft +and crumbly beds had been traversed, and where the dissolved stone had +been converted into clay or mud, but these were the impressions of the +smugglers escaping from their den. Step by step he mounted, till he +had got about half-way up, when he noticed, what he had not previously +observed, that there was a point at which the track left the ledge of +stratified vertical rock that had inclined its broken edge upward, and +by a series of slips mounted to another fractured stratum, a leaf of +the story-book turned up with the record of infinite ages sealed up in +it. It was possible that one unacquainted with the course might grope +onward, following the ledge instead of deserting it for a direct +upward climb. As Coppinger now perceived, one ignorant of the way and +unprovided with a light would naturally follow the shelf. He +accordingly deserted the track, and advanced along the ledge. There +was a little turf in one place, in the next a tuft of armeria, then +mud or clay, and there--assuredly a foot had trodden. There was a mark +of a sole that was too small to have belonged to a man. + +The shelf at first was tolerably broad, and could be followed without +risk by one whose head was steady; but for how long would it so +continue? These rough edges, these laminæ of upheaved slate were +treacherous--they were sometimes completely broken down, forming gaps, +in places stridable, in others discontinuous for many yards. + +The footprints satisfied Coppinger that Judith had crept along this +terrace, and so had missed the right course. It was impossible that +she could reach the summit by this way--she must have fallen or be +clinging at some point farther ahead, a point from which she could not +advance, and feared to retreat. + +He held the lantern above his head, and peered before him, but could +see nothing. The glare of the artificial light made the darkness +beyond its radius the deeper and more impervious to the eye. He +called, but received no answer. He called again, with as little +success. He listened, but heard no other sound than the mutter of the +sea, and the wail of the wind. There was nothing for him to do but to +go forward; and he did that slowly, searchingly, with the light near +the ground, seeking for some further trace of Judith. He was obliged +to use caution, as the ledge of rock narrowed. Here it was hard, and +the foot passing over it made no impression. Then ensued a rift and a +slide of shale, and here he thought he observed indications of recent +dislodgement. + +Now the foot-hold was reduced, he could no longer stoop to examine the +soil; he must stand upright and hold to the rock with his right hand, +and move with precaution lest he should be precipitated below. + +Was it conceivable that she had passed there?--there in the dark? And +yet--if she had not, she must have been hurled below. + +Coppinger, clinging with his fingers, and thrusting one foot before +the other, then drawing forward that foot, with every faculty on the +alert, passed to where, for a short space, the ledge of rock expanded, +and there he stooped once more with the light to explore. Beyond was a +sheer fall, and the dull glare from his lantern showed him no +continuance of the shelf. As he arose from his bent position, suddenly +the light fell on a hand--a delicate, childish hand--hanging down. He +raised the lantern, and saw her whom he sought. At this point she had +climbed upward to a higher ledge, and on that she lay, one arm raised, +fastened by a chain to a tuft of heather--her head fallen against the +rock, and feet and one arm over the edge of the cliff. She was +unconscious, sustained by a dog-chain and a little bunch of ling. + +Coppinger passed the candle over her face. It was white, and the eyes +did not close before the light. + +His position was vastly difficult. She hung there chained to the +cliff, and he doubted whether he could sustain her weight if he +attempted to carry her back while she was unconscious, along the way +he and she had come. It was perilous for one alone to move along that +strip of surface; it seemed impossible for one to effect it bearing in +his arms a human burden. + +Moreover, Coppinger was well aware that his left arm had not recovered +its strength. He could not trust her weight on that. He dare not trust +it on his right arm, for to return by the way he came the right hand +would be that which was toward the void. The principal weight must be +thrown inward. + +What was to be done? This, primarily: to release the insensible girl +from her present position, in which the agony of the strain on her +shoulder perhaps prolonged her unconsciousness. + +Coppinger mounted to the shelf on which she lay, and bowing himself +over her, while holding her, so that she should not slip over the +edge, he disentangled the chain from her wrist and the stems of the +heather. Then he seated himself beside her, drew her toward him, with +his right arm about her, and laid her head on his shoulder. + +And the chain? + +That he took and deliberately passed it round her waist and his own +body, fastened it, and muttered, "For life or for death!" + +There, for a while, he sat. He had set the lantern beside him. His +hand was on Judith's heart, and he held his breath, and waited to feel +if there was pulsation there; but his own arteries were in such +agitation, the throb in his finger ends prevented his being able to +satisfy himself as to what he desired to know. + +He could not remain longer in his present position. Judith might never +revive. She had swooned through over-exhaustion, and nothing could +restore her to life but the warmth and care she would receive in a +house; he cursed his folly, his thoughtlessness, in having brought +with him no flask of brandy. He dared remain no longer where he was, +the ebbing powers in the feeble life might sink beyond recall. + +He thrust his right arm under her, and adjusted the chain about him so +as to throw some of her weight off the arm, and then cautiously slid +to the step below, and, holding her, set his back to the rocky wall. + +So, facing the Atlantic Ocean, facing the wild night sky, torn here +and there into flakes of light, otherwise cloaked in storm-gloom, with +the abyss below, an abyss of jagged rock and shingle shore, he began +to make his way along the track by which he had gained that point. + +He was at that part where the shelf narrowed to a foot, and his safety +and hers depended largely on the power that remained to him in his +left arm. With the hand of that arm he felt along and clutched every +projecting point of rock, and held to it with every sinew strained and +starting. He drew a long breath. Was Judith stirring on his arm? + +The critical minute had come. The slightest movement, the least +displacement of the balance, and both would be precipitated below. + +"Judith!" said he, hoarsely, turning his head toward her ear. +"Judith!" + +There was no reply. + +"Judith! For Heaven's sake--if you hear me--do not lift a finger. Do +not move a muscle." + +The same heavy weight on him without motion. + +"Judith! For life--or death!" + +Then suddenly from off the ocean flashed a tiny spark--far, far away. + +It was a signal from the Black Prince. + +He saw it, fixed his eyes steadily on it, and began to move sideways, +facing the sea, his back to the rock, reaching forward with his left +arm, holding Judith in the right. + +"For life!" + +He took one step sideways, holding with the disengaged hand to the +rock. The bone of that arm was but just knit. Not only so, but that of +the collar was also recently sealed up after fracture. Yet the +salvation of two lives hung on these two infirm joints. The arm was +stiff; the muscles had not recovered flexibility, nor the sinews their +strength. + +"For death!" + +A second sidelong step, and the projected foot slid in greasy marl. He +dug his heel into the wet and yielding soil, he stamped in it; then, +throwing all his weight on the left heel, aided by the left arm, he +drew himself along and planted the right beside the left. + +He sucked the air in between his teeth with a hiss. The soft soil was +sinking--it would break away. The light from the Black Prince seemed +to rise. With a wrench he planted his left foot on rock--and drew up +the right to it. + +"Judith! For life!" + +That star on the black sea--what did it mean? He knew. His mind was +clear, and though in intense concentration of all his powers on the +effort to pass this strip of perilous path, he could reason of other +things, and knew why the Black Prince had exposed her light. The +lantern that he had borne, and left on the shelf, had been seen by +her, and she supposed it to be a signal from the terrace over the +cave. + +The next step was full of peril. With his left foot advanced, +Coppinger felt he had reached the shale. He kicked into it, and kicked +away an avalanche of loose flakes that slid over the edge. But he +drove his foot deep into the slope, and rammed a dent into which he +could fix the right foot when drawn after it. + +"For death!" + +Then he crept along upon the shale. + +He could not see the star now. His sweat, rolling off his brow, had +run over his eyelids and charged the lashes with tears. In partial +blindness he essayed the next step. + +"For life!" + +Then he breathed more freely. His foot was on the grass. + +The passage of extreme danger was over. From the point now reached the +ledge widened, and Coppinger was able to creep onward with less stress +laid on the fractured bones. The anguish of expectation of death was +lightened; and as it lightened nature began to assert herself. His +teeth chattered as in an ague fit, and his breath came in sobs. + +In ten minutes he had attained the summit--he was on the down above +the cliffs. + +"Judith," said he, and he kissed her cheeks and brow and hair. "For +life--for death--mine, only mine." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +UNA. + + +When Judith opened her eyes, she found herself in a strange room, but +as she looked about her she saw Aunt Dionysia with her hands behind +her back looking out of the window. + +"Oh, aunt! Where am I!" + +Miss Trevisa turned. + +"So you have come round at last, or pleased to pretend to come round. +It is hard to tell whether or not dissimulation was here." + +"Dissimulation, aunt?" + +"There's no saying. Young folks are not what they were in my day. They +have neither the straightforwardness nor the consideration for their +elders and betters." + +"But--where am I?" + +"At the Glaze; not where I put you, but where you have put yourself." + +"I did not come here, auntie, dear." + +"Don't auntie dear me, and deprive me of my natural sleep." + +"Have I?" + +"Have you not? Three nights have I had to sit up. And natural sleep is +as necessary to me at my age as is stays. I fall abroad without one or +the other. Give me my choice--whether I'd have nephews and nieces +crawling about me or erysipelas, and I'd choose the latter." + +"But, aunt--I'm sorry if I am a trouble to you." + +"Of course you are a trouble. How can you be other? Don't burs stick? +But that is neither here nor there." + +"Aunt, how came I to Pentyre Glaze!" + +"I didn't invite you, and I didn't bring you--you may be sure of that. +Captain Coppinger found you somewhere on the down at night, when you +ought to have been at home. You were insensible, or pretended to be +so--it's not for me to say which." + +"Oh, aunt, I don't want to be here." + +"Nor do I want you here--and in my room, too. Hoity-toity! nephews and +nieces are just like pigs--you want them to go one way and they run +the other." + +"But I should like to know where Captain Coppinger found me, and all +about it. I don't remember anything." + +"Then you must ask him yourself." + +"I should like to get up; may I?" + +"I can't say till the doctor comes. There's no telling--I might be +blamed. I shall be pleased enough when you are shifted to your own +room," and she pointed to a door. + +"My room, auntie?" + +"I suppose so; I don't know whose else it is." + +Then Miss Trevisa whisked out of the room. + +Judith lay quietly in bed trying to collect her thoughts and recall +something of what had happened. She could recollect fastening her +wrist to the shrub by her brother's dog-chain; then, with all the +vividness of a recurrence of the scene--the fall of the man, the +stroke on her cheek, his roll over and plunge down the precipice. The +recollection made a film come over her eyes and her heart stand still. +After that she remembered nothing. She tried hard to bring to mind one +single twinkle of remembrance, but in vain. It was like looking at a +wall and straining the eyes to see through it. + +Then she raised herself in bed to look about her. She was in her +aunt's room, and in her aunt's bed. She had been brought there by +Captain Coppinger. He, therefore, had rescued her from the position of +peril in which she had been. So far she could understand. She would +have liked to know more, but more, probably, her aunt could not tell +her, even if inclined to do so. + +Where was Jamie? Was he at Uncle Zachie's? Had he been anxious and +unhappy about her? She hoped he had got into no trouble during the +time he had been free from her supervision. Judith felt that she must +go back to Mr. Menaida's and to Jamie. She could not stay at the +Glaze. She could not be happy with her ever-grumbling, ill-tempered +aunt. Besides, her father would not have wished her to be there. + +What did Aunt Dunes mean when she pointed to a door and spoke of her +room? + +Judith could not judge whether she were strong till she tried her +strength. She slipped her feet to the floor, stood up and stole over +the floor to that door which her aunt had indicated. She timidly +raised the latch, after listening at it, opened and peeped into a +small apartment. To her surprise she saw the little bed she had +occupied at her dear home, the rectory, her old wash-stand, her +mirror, the old chairs, the framed pictures that had adorned her +walls, the common and trifling ornaments that had been arranged on her +chimney-piece. Every object with which she had been familiar at the +parsonage for many years, and to which she had said good-by, never +expecting to have a right to them any more--all these were there, +furnishing the room that adjoined her aunt's apartment. + +She stood looking around in surprise, till she heard a step on the +stair outside, and, supposing it was that of Aunt Dionysia, she ran +back to bed, and dived under the clothes and pulled the sheets over +her golden head. + +Aunt Dunes entered the room, bringing with her a bowl of soup. Her eye +at once caught the opened door into the little adjoining chamber. + +"You have been out of bed!" + +Judith thrust her head out of its hiding-place, and said, frankly, +"Yes, auntie! I could not help myself. I want to see. How have you +managed to get all my things together?" + +"I? I have had nothing to do with it." + +"But--who did it, auntie?" + +"Captain Coppinger; he was at the sale." + +"Is the sale over, aunt?" + +"Yes, whilst you have been ill." + +"Oh, I am so glad it is over, and I knew nothing about it." + +"Oh, exactly! Not a thought of the worry you have been to me; deprived +of my sleep--of my bed--of my bed," repeated Aunt Dunes, grimly. "How +can you expect a bulb to flower if you take it out of the earth and +stick it on a bedroom chair stirring broth? I have no patience with +you young people. You are consumed with selfishness." + +"But, auntie! Don't be cross. Why did Captain Coppinger buy all my +dear crinkum-crankums?" + +Aunt Dionysia snorted and tossed her head. + +Judith suddenly flushed; she did not repeat the question, but said +hastily, "Auntie, I want to go back to Mr. Menaida." + +"You cannot desire it more than I do," said Miss Trevisa, sharply. +"But whether _he_ will let you go is another matter." + +"Aunt Dunes, if I want to go, I will go!" + +"Indeed!" + +"I will go back as soon as ever I can." + +"Well, that can't be to-day, for one thing." + +The evening of that same day Judith was removed into the adjoining +room, "her room," as Miss Trevisa designated it. "And mind you sleep +soundly, and don't trouble me in the night. Natural sleep is as +suitable to me as green peas to duck." + +When, next morning, the girl awoke, her eyes ranged round and lighted +everywhere on familiar objects. The two mezzotints of Happy and +Deserted Auburn, the old and battered pieces of Dresden ware, vases +with flowers encrusted round them, but with most of the petals broken +off--vases too injured to be of value to a purchaser, valuable to her +because full of reminiscences--the tapestry firescreen, the painted +fans with butterflies on them, the mirror blotched with damp, the +inlaid wafer-box and ruler, the old snuffer-tray. Her eyes filled with +tears. A gathering together into one room of old trifles did not make +that strange room to be home. It was the father, the dear father, who, +now that he was taken away, made home an impossibility, and the whole +world, however crowded with old familiar odds and ends, to be desert +and strange. The sight of all her old "crinkum-crankums," as she had +called them, made Judith's heart smart. It was kindly meant by +Coppinger to purchase all these things and collect them there; but it +was a mistake of judgment. Grateful she was, not gratified. + +In the little room there was an ottoman with a woolwork cover +representing a cluster of dark red, pink, and white roses; and at each +corner of the ottoman was a tassel, which had been a constant source +of trouble to Judith, as the tassels would come off, sometimes because +the cat played with them, sometimes because Jamie pulled them off in +mischief, sometimes because they caught in her dress. Her father had +embroidered those dreadful roses on a buff ground one winter when +confined to the house by a heavy cold and cough. She valued that +ottoman for his sake, and would not have suffered it to go into the +sale had she possessed any place she could regard as her own where to +put it. She needed no such article to remind her of the dear +father--the thought of him would be forever present to her without the +assistance of ottomans to refresh her memory. + +On this ottoman, when dressed, Judith seated herself, and let her +hands rest in her lap. She was better; she would soon be well; and +when well would take the first opportunity to depart. + +The door was suddenly thrown open by her aunt, and in the doorway +stood Coppinger looking at her. He raised his hand to his hat in +salutation, but said nothing. She was startled and unable to speak. In +another moment the door was shut again. + +That day she resolved that nothing should detain her longer than she +was forced. Jamie--her own dear Jamie--came to see her, and the twins +were locked in each other's arms. + +"Oh, Ju! darling Ju! You are quite well, are you not! And Captain +Coppinger has given me a gray donkey instead of Tib; and I'm to ride +it about whenever I choose!" + +"But, dear, Mr. Menaida has no stable, and no paddock." + +"Oh, Ju! that's nothing. I'm coming up here, and we shall be +together--the donkey and you and me and Aunt Dunes!" + +"No, Jamie. Nothing of the sort. Listen to me. You remain at Mr. +Menaida's. I am coming back." + +"But I've already brought up my clothes." + +"You take them back. Attend to me. You do not come here. I go back to +Mr. Menaida's immediately." + +"But, Ju! you've got all your pretty things from the parsonage here!" + +"They are not mine. Mr. Coppinger bought them for himself." + +"But--the donkey?" + +"Leave the donkey here. Pay attention to my words. I lay a strict +command on you. As you love me, Jamie, do not leave Mr. Menaida's; +remain there till my return." + +That night there was a good deal of noise in the house. Judith's room +lay in a wing, nevertheless she heard the riot, for the house was not +large, and the sounds from the hall penetrated every portion of it. +She was frightened, and went into Miss Trevisa's room. + +"Aunt! what is this dreadful racket about?" + +"Go to sleep--you cannot have every one shut his mouth because of +you." + +"But what is it, auntie!" + +"It is nothing but the master has folk with him, if you wish +particularly to know. The whole cargo of the Black Prince has been +run, and not a finger has been laid by the coast-guard on a single +barrel or bale. So they are celebrating their success. Go to bed and +sleep. It is naught to you." + +"I cannot sleep, aunt. They are singing now." + +"Why should they not; have you aught against it? You are not mistress +here, that I am aware of." + +"But, auntie, are there many down-stairs?" + +"I do not know. It is no concern of mine--and certainly none of +yours." + +Judith was silenced for a while by her aunt's ill-humor; but she did +not return to her room. Presently she asked-- + +"Are you sure, aunt, that Jamie is gone back to Polzeath?" + +Miss Trevisa kicked the stool from under her feet, in her impatience. + +"Really! you drive me desperate. I did not bargain for this. Am I to +tear over the country on post-horses to seek a nephew here and a niece +there? I can't tell where Jamie is, and what is more, I do not care. +I'll do my duty by you both. I'll do no more; and that has been forced +on me, it was not sought by me. Heaven be my witness." + +Judith returned to her room. The hard and sour woman would afford her +no information. + +In her room she threw herself on her bed and began to think. She was +in the very home and head-quarters of contrabandism. But was smuggling +a sin? Surely not that, or her father would have condemned it +decidedly. She remembered his hesitation relative to it, in the last +conversation they had together. Perhaps it was not actually a sin--she +could recall no text in Scripture that denounced it--but it was a +thing forbidden, and though she did not understand why it was +forbidden, she considered that it could not be an altogether +honorable and righteous traffic. Judith was unable to rest. It was not +the noise that disturbed her so much as her uneasiness about Jamie. +Had he obeyed her and gone back to Uncle Zachie? Or had he neglected +her injunction, and was he in the house, was he below along with the +revellers? + +She opened the door gently, and stole along the passage to the head of +the stairs, and listened. She could smell the fumes of tobacco; but to +these she was familiar. The atmosphere of Mr. Menaida's cottage was +redolent of the Virginian weed. The noise was, however, something to +which she was utterly unaccustomed: the boisterous merriment, the +shouts, and occasional oaths. Then a fiddle was played. There was +disputation, a pause, then the fiddle recommenced; it played a jig; +there was a clatter of feet, then a roar of laughter--and then--she +was almost sure she heard the voice of her brother. + +Regardless of herself, thinking only of him, without a moment's +consideration, she ran down the stairs and threw open the door into +the great kitchen or hall. + +It was full of men--wild, rough fellows--drinking and smoking; there +were lights and a fire. The atmosphere was rank with spirits and +tobacco; on a chair sat a sailor fiddling, and in the midst of the +room, on a table, was Jamie dancing a jig, to the laughter and +applause of the revellers. + +The moment Judith appeared silence ensued--the men were surprised to +see a pale and delicate girl stand before them, with a crown of gold +like a halo round her ivory-white face. But Judith took no notice of +anyone there--her eyes were on her brother, and her hand raised to +attract his attention. Judith had been in bed, but, disturbed by the +uproar, had risen and drawn on her gown; her feet, however, were bare, +and her magnificent hair poured over her shoulders unbound. Her whole +mind, her whole care, was for Jamie; on herself not a thought rested; +she had forgotten that she was but half clothed. + +"Jamie! Jamie!" she cried. "My brother! my brother!" + +The fiddler ceased, lowered his violin, and stared at her. + +"Ju, let me alone! It is such fun," said the boy. + +"Jamie! this instant you shall come with me. Get down off the table!" + +As he hesitated, and looked round to the men who had been applauding +him for support against his sister, she went to the table, and caught +him by the feet. + +"Jamie! in pity to me! Jamie! think--papa is but just dead." + +Then tears of sorrow, shame, and entreaty filled her eyes. + +"No, Ju! I'm not tied to your apron-strings," said the lad, +disengaging himself. + +But in an instant he was caught from the table by the strong arm of +Coppinger, and thrust toward the door. + +"Judith, you should not have come here." + +"Oh, Mr. Coppinger--and Jamie! why did you let him--" + +Coppinger drew the girl from the room into the passage. + +"Judith, not for the world would I have had you here," said he, in an +agitated voice. "I'll kill your aunt for letting you come down." + +"Mr. Coppinger, she knew nothing of my coming. Come I must--I heard +Jamie's voice." + +"Go," said the Captain, shaking the boy. He was ashamed of himself and +angry. "Beware how you disobey your sister again." + +Coppinger's face was red as fire. He turned to Judith-- + +"Your feet are bare. Let me carry you up-stairs--carry you once more." + +She shook her head. "As I came down so I can return." + +"Will you forgive me?" he said, in a low tone. + +"Heaven forgive you," she answered, and burst into tears. "You will +break my heart, I foresee it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A GOLDFISH. + + +Next day--just in the same way as the day before--when Judith was +risen and dressed, the door was thrown open, and again Coppinger was +revealed, standing outside, looking at her with a strange expression, +and saying no word. + +But Judith started up from her chair and went to him in the passage, +put forth her delicate white hand, laid it on his cuff, and said: "Mr. +Coppinger, may I speak to you?" + +"Where?" + +"Where you like--down-stairs will be best, in the hall if no one be +there." + +"It is empty." + +He stood aside and allowed her to precede him. + +The staircase was narrow, and it would have been dark but for a small +dormer-window through which light came from a squally sky covered with +driving white vapors. But such light as entered from a white and wan +sun fell on her head as she descended--that head of hair was like the +splendor of a beech-tree touched by frost before the leaves fall. + +Coppinger descended after her. + +When they were both in the hall, he indicated his arm-chair by the +hearth for her to sit in, and she obeyed. She was weak, and now also +nervous. She must speak to the smuggler firmly, and that required all +her courage. + +The room was tidy; all traces of the debauch of the preceding night +had disappeared. + +Coppinger stood a few paces from her. He seemed to know that what she +was going to say would displease him, and he did not meet her clear +eyes, but looked with a sombre frown upon the floor. + +Judith put the fingers of her right hand to her heart to bid it cease +beating so fast, and then rushed into what she had to say, fearing +lest delay should heighten the difficulty of saying it. + +"I am so--so thankful to you, sir, for what you have done for me. My +aunt tells me that you found and carried me here. I had lost my way on +the rocks, and but for you I would have died." + +"Yes," he said, raising his eyes suddenly and looking piercingly into +hers, "but for me you would have died." + +"I must tell you how deeply grateful I am for this and for other +kindnesses. I shall never forget that this foolish, silly, little life +of mine I owe to you." + +Again her heart was leaping so furiously as to need the pressure of +her fingers on it to check it. + +"We are quits," said Coppinger, slowly. "You came--you ran a great +risk to save me. But for you I might be dead. So this rude and +worthless--this evil life of mine," he held out his hands, both palms +before her, and spoke with quivering voice--"I owe to you." + +"Then," said Judith, "as you say, we are quits. Yet no. If one account +is cancelled, another remains unclosed. I threw you down and broke +your bones. So there still remains a score against me." + +"That I have forgiven long ago," said he. "Throw me down, break me, +kill me, do with me what you will--and--I will kiss your hand." + +"I do not wish to have my hand kissed," said Judith, hastily, "I let +you understand that before." + +He put his elbow against the mantel-shelf, and leaned his brow against +his open hand, looking down at her, so she could not see his face +without raising her eyes, but he could rest his on her and study her, +note her distress, the timidity with which she spoke, the wince when +he said a word that implied his attachment to her. + +"I have not only to thank you, Captain Coppinger, but I have to say +good-by." + +"What--go?" + +"Yes--I shall go back to Mr. Menaida to-day." + +He stamped, and his face became blood-red. "You shall not. I will +it--here you stay." + +"It cannot be," said Judith, after a moment's pause to let his passion +subside. "You are not my guardian, though very generously you have +undertaken to be valuer for me in dilapidations. I must go, I and +Jamie." + +He shook his head. He feared to speak, his anger choked him. + +"I cannot remain here myself, and certainly I will not let Jamie be +here." + +"Is it because of last night's foolery you say that?" + +"I am responsible for my brother. He is not very clever; he is easily +led astray. There is no one to think for him, to care for him, but +myself. I could never let him run the risk of such a thing happening +again." + +"Confound the boy!" burst forth Coppinger. "Are you going to bring him +up as a milk-sop? You are wrong altogether in the way you manage him." + +"I can but follow my conscience." + +"And is it because of him that you go?" + +"Not because of him only." + +"But I have spoken to your aunt; she consents." + +"But I do not," said Judith. + +He stamped again, passionately. + +"I am not the man who will bear to be disobeyed and my will crossed. I +say--Here you shall stay." + +Judith waited a moment, looking at him steadily out of her clear, +glittering iridescent eyes, and said slowly, "I am not the girl to be +obliged to stay where my common-sense and my heart say Stay not." + +He folded his arms, lowered his chin on his breast, and strode up and +down the room. Then, suddenly, he stood still opposite her and asked, +in a threatening tone: + +"Do you not like your room? Does that not please your humor?" + +"It has been most kind of you to collect all my little bits of rubbish +there. I feel how good you have been, how full of thought for me; but, +for all that, I cannot stay." + +"Why not?" + +"I have said, on one account, because of Jamie." + +He bit his lips--"I hate that boy." + +"Then most certainly he cannot be here. He must be with those who love +him." + +"Then stay." + +"I cannot--I will not. I have a will as well as you. My dear papa +always said that my will was strong." + +"You are the only person who has ever dared to resist me." + +"That may be; I am daring--because you have been kind." + +"Kind to you. Yes--to you only." + +"It may be so, and because kind to me, and me only, I, and I only, +presume to say No when you say Yes." + +He came again to the fireplace and again leaned against the +mantel-shelf. He was trembling with passion. + +"And what if I say that, if you go, I will turn old Dunes--I mean your +aunt--out of the house?" + +"You will not say it, Mr. Coppinger; you are too noble, too generous, +to take a mean revenge." + +"Oh! you allow there is some good in me?" + +"I thankfully and cheerfully protest there is a great deal of good in +you--and I would there were more." + +"Come--stay here and teach me to be good--be my crutch; I will lean on +you, and you shall help me along the right way." + +"You are too great a weight, Mr. Coppinger," said she, smiling--but it +was a frightened and a forced smile. "You would bend and break the +little crutch." + +He heaved a long breath. He was looking at her from under his hand and +his bent brows. + +"You are cruel--to deny me a chance. And what if I were to say that I +am hungry, sick at heart, and faint. Would you turn your back and +leave me?" + +"No, assuredly not." + +"I am hungry." + +She looked up at him, and was frightened by the glitter in his eyes. + +"I am hungry for the sight of you, for the sound of your voice." + +She did not say anything to this, but sat, with her hands on her lap, +musing, uncertain how to deal with this man, so strange, impulsive, +and yet so submissive to her, and even appealing to her pity. + +"Mr. Coppinger, I have to think of and care for Jamie, and he takes up +all my thoughts and engrosses all my time." + +"Jamie, again!" + +"So that I cannot feed and teach another orphan." + +"Put off your departure--a week. Grant me that. Then you will have +time to get quite strong, and also you will be able to see whether it +is not possible for you to live here. Here is your aunt--it is natural +and right that you should be with her. She has been made your guardian +by your father. Do you not bow to his directions." + +"Mr. Coppinger, I cannot stay here." + +"I am at a disadvantage," he exclaimed. "Man always is when carrying +on a contest with a woman. Stay--stay here and listen to me." He put +out his hand and pressed her back into the chair, for she was about to +rise. "Listen to what I say. You do not know--you cannot know--how +near death you and I--yes, you and I were, chained together." His deep +voice shook. "You and I were on the face of the cliff. There was but +one little strip, the width of my hand"--he held out his palm before +her--"and that was not secure. It was sliding away under my feet. +Below was death, certain death--a wretched death. I held you. That +little chain tied us two--us two together. All your life and mine hung +on was my broken arm and broken collar-bone. I held you to me with my +right arm and the chain. I did not think we should live. I thought +that together--chained together, I holding you--so we would die--so we +would be found--and my only care, my only prayer was, if so, that so +we might be washed to sea and sink together, I holding you and chained +to you, and you to me. I prayed that we might never be found; for I +thought if rude hands were laid on us that the chain would be +unloosed, my arm unlocked from about you, and that we should be +carried to separate graves. I could not endure that thought. Let us go +down together--bound, clasped together--into the depths of the deep +sea, and there rest. But it was not to be so. I carried you over that +stage of infinite danger. An angel or a devil--I cannot say +which--held me up. And then I swore that never in life should you be +loosed from me, as I trusted that in death we should have remained +bound together. See!" He put his hand to her head and drew a lock of +her golden hair and wound it about his hand and arm. "You have me fast +now--fast in a chain of gold--of gold infinitely precious to +me--infinitely strong--and you will cast me off, who never thought to +cast you off when tied to you with a chain of iron. What say you? Will +you stand in safety on your cliff of pride and integrity and unloose +the golden band and say, 'Go down--down. I know nothing in you to +love. You are naught to me but a robber, a wrecker, a drunkard, a +murderer--go down into Hell?'" + +In his quivering excitement he acted the whole scene, unconscious that +he was so doing, and the drops of agony stood on his brow and +rolled--drip--drip--drip from it. Man does not weep; his tears exude +more bitter than those that flow from the eyes, and they distil from +his pores. + +Judith was awed by the intensity of passion in the man, but not +changed in her purpose. His vehemence reacted on her, calming her, +giving her determination to finish the scene decisively and finally. + +"Mr. Coppinger," she said, looking up to him, who still held her by +the hair wound about his hand and arm, "it is you who hold me in +chains, not I you. And so I--your prisoner--must address a gaoler. Am +I to speak in chains, or will you release me?" + +He shook his head, and clenched his hand on the gold hair. + +"Very well," said she, "so it must be; I, bound, plead my cause with +you--at a disadvantage. This is what I must say at the risk of hurting +you; and, Heaven be my witness, I would not wound one who has been so +good to me--one to whom I owe my life, my power now to speak and +entreat." She paused a minute to gain breath and strengthen herself +for what she had to say. + +"Mr. Coppinger--do you not yourself see that it is quite impossible +that I should remain in this house--that I should have anything more +to do with you? Consider how I have been brought up--what my thoughts +have been. I have had, from earliest childhood, my dear papa's example +and teachings, sinking into my heart till they have colored my very +life-blood. My little world and your great one are quite different. +What I love and care for is folly to you, and your pursuits and +pleasures are repugnant to me. You are an eagle--a bird of prey." + +"A bird of prey," repeated Coppinger. + +"And you soar and fight, and dive, and rend in your own element; +whereas I am a little silver trout----" + +"No"--he drew up his arm wound round with her hair--"No--a goldfish." + +"Well, so be it; a goldfish swimming in my own crystal element, and +happy in it. You would not take me out of it to gasp and die. Trust +me, Captain Coppinger, I could not--even if I would--live in your +world." + +She put up her hands to his arm and drew some of the hair through his +fingers, and unwound it from his sleeve. He made no resistance. He +watched her, in a dream. He had heard every word she had said, and he +knew that she spoke the truth. They belonged to different realms of +thought and sensation. He could not breathe--he would stifle--in hers, +and it was possible--it was certain--that she could not endure the +strong, rough quality of his. + +Her delicate fingers touched his hand, and sent a spasm to his heart. +She was drawing away another strand of hair, and untwisting it from +about his arm, passing the wavy, fire-gold from one hand to the other. +And as every strand was taken off, so went light and hope from him, +and despair settled down on his dark spirit. + +He was thinking whether it would not have been better to have thrown +himself down when he had her in his arms, and bound to him by the +chain. + +Then he laughed. + +She looked up, and caught his wild eye. There was a timid inquiry in +her look, and he answered it. + +"You may unwind your hair from my arm, but it is woven round and round +my heart, and you cannot loose it thence." + +She drew another strand away, and released that also from his arm. +There remained now but one red-gold band of hair fastening her to him. +He looked entreatingly at her, and then at the hair. + +"It must indeed be so," she said, and released herself wholly. + +Then she stood up, a little timidly, for she could not trust him in +his passion and his despair. But he did not stir; he looked at her +with fixed, dreamy eyes. She left her place, and moved toward the +door. She had gone forth from Mr. Menaida's without hat or other cover +for her head than the cloak with its hood, and that she had lost. She +must return bare-headed. She had reached the door; and there she waved +him a farewell. + +"Goldfish!" he cried. + +She halted. + +"Goldfish, come here; one--one word only." + +She hesitated whether to yield. The man was dangerous. But she +considered that with a few strides he might overtake her if she tried +to escape. Therefore she returned toward him, but came not near enough +for him to touch her. + +"Hearken to me," said he. "It may be as you say. It is as you say. You +have your world; I have mine. You could not live in mine, nor I in +yours." But his voice thrilled. "Swear to me--swear to me now--that +while I live no other shall hold you, as I would have held you, to his +side; that no other shall take your hair and wind it round him, as I +have--I could not endure that. Will you swear to me that?--and you +shall go." + +"Indeed I will; indeed, indeed I will." + +"Beware how you break this oath. Let him beware who dares to seek +you." He was silent, looking on the ground, his arms folded. So he +stood for some minutes, lost in thought. Then suddenly he cried out, +"Goldfish!" + +He had found a single hair, long--a yard long--of the most intense +red-gold, lustrous as a cloud in the west over the sunken sun. It had +been left about his arm and hand. + +"Goldfish!" + +But she was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +BOUGHT AND SOLD. + + +Cruel Coppinger remained brooding in the place where he had been +standing, and as he stood there his face darkened. He was a man of +imperious will and violent passions; a man unwont to curb himself; +accustomed to sweep out of his path whoever or whatever stood between +him and the accomplishment of his purpose; a man who never asked +himself whether that purpose were good or bad. He had succumbed, in a +manner strange and surprising to himself, to the influence of +Judith--a sort of witchery over him that subdued his violence and awed +him into gentleness and modesty. But when her presence was withdrawn +the revolt of the man's lawless nature began. Who was this who had +dared to oppose her will to his? a mere child of eighteen. Women were +ever said to be a perverse generation, and loved to domineer over men; +and man was weak to suffer it. So thinking, chafing, he had worked +himself into a simmering rage when Miss Trevisa entered the hall, +believing it to be empty. Seeing him, she was about to withdraw, when +he shouted to her to stay. + +"I beg your pardon for intruding, sir; I am in quest of my niece. +Those children keep me in a whirl like a teetotum." + +"Your niece is gone." + +"Gone! where to?" + +"Back--I suppose to that old fool, Menaida. He is meet to be a +companion for her and that idiot, her brother; not I--I am to be +spurned from her presence." + +Miss Trevisa was surprised, but she said nothing. She knew his moods. + +"Stand there, Mother Dunes!" said Coppinger, in his anger and +humiliation, glad to have some one on whom he could pour out the lava +that boiled up in his burning breast. "Listen to me. She has told me +that we belong to different worlds--she and I--and to different races, +kinds of being, and that there can be no fellowship betwixt us. Where +I am she will not be. Between me and you there is a great gulf +fixed--see you? and I am as Dives tormented in my flame, and she +stands yonder, serene, in cold and complacent blessedness, and will +not cross to me with her finger dipped in cold water to cool my +tongue; and as for my coming near to her"--he laughed fiercely--"that +can never be." + +"Did she say all that?" asked Miss Trevisa. + +"She looked it; she implied it, if she did not say it in these naked +words. And, what is more," shouted he, coming before Aunt Dionysia, +threateningly, so that she recoiled, "it is true. When she sat there +in yonder chair, and I stood here by this hearthstone, and she spoke, +I knew it was true; I saw it all--the great gulf unspanned by any +bridge. I knew that none could ever bridge it, and there we were, +apart for ever, I in my fire burning, she in Blessedness--indifferent." + +"I am very sorry," said Miss Trevisa, "that Judith should so have +misconducted herself. My brother brought her up in a manner to my +mind, most improper for a young girl. He made her read Rollin's +'Ancient History,' and Blair's 'Chronological Tables,' and really upon +my word, I cannot say what else." + +"I do not care how it was," said Coppinger. "But here stands the +gulf." + +"Rollin is in sixteen octavo volumes," said Aunt Dionysia; "and they +are thick also." + +Coppinger strode about the room, with his hands in his deep coat +pockets, his head down. + +"My dear brother," continued Miss Trevisa, apologetically, "made of +Judith his daily companion, told her all he thought, asked her +opinion, as though she were a full-grown woman, and one whose opinion +was worth having, whereas he never consulted me, never cared to talk +to me about anything, and the consequence is the child has grown up +without that respect for her elders and betters, and that deference +for the male sex which the male sex expects. I am sure when I was a +girl, and of her age, I was very different, very different indeed." + +"Of that I have not the smallest doubt," sneered Coppinger. "But never +mind about yourself. It is of her I am speaking. She is gone, has +left me, and I cannot endure it. I cannot endure it," he repeated. + +"I beg your pardon," said Aunt Dionysia, "you must excuse me saying +it, Captain Coppinger, but you place me in a difficult position. I am +the guardian of my niece, though, goodness knows, I never desired it, +and I don't know what to think. It is very flattering and kind, and I +esteem it great goodness in you to speak of Judith with such warmth, +but----" + +"Goodness! kindness!" exclaimed Coppinger. "I am good and kind to her! +She forced me to it. I can be nothing else, and she throws me at her +feet and tramples on me." + +"I am sure your sentiments, sir, are--are estimable; but, feeling as +you seem to imply toward Judith, I hardly know what to say. Bless me! +what a scourge to my shoulders these children are: nettles stinging +and blistering my skin, and not allowing me a moment's peace!" + +"I imply nothing," said Coppinger. "I speak out direct and plain what +I mean. I love her. She has taken me, she turns me about, she gets my +heart between her little hands and tortures it." + +"Then surely, Captain, you cannot ask me to let her be here. You are +most kind to express yourself in this manner about the pert hussy, +but, as she is my niece, and I am responsible for her, I must do my +duty by her, and not expose her to be--talked about. Bless me!" gasped +Aunt Dunes, "when I was her age I never would have put myself into +such a position as to worry my aunt out of her seven senses, and bring +her nigh to distraction." + +"I will marry her, and make her mistress of my house and all I have," +said Coppinger. + +Miss Trevisa slightly courtesied, then said, "I am sure you are +over-indulgent, but what is to become of me? I have no doubt it will +be very comfortable and acceptable to Judith to hear this, but--what +is to become of me? It would not be very delightful for me to be +housekeeper here under my own niece, a pert, insolent, capricious +hussy. You can see at once, Captain Coppinger, that I cannot consent +to that." + +The woman had the shrewdness to know that she could be useful to +Coppinger, and the selfishness that induced her to make terms with +him to secure her own future, and to show him that she could stand in +his way till he yielded to them. + +"I never asked to have these children thrust down my throat, like the +fish-bone that strangled Lady Godiva--no, who was it? Earl Godiva; but +I thank my stars I never waded through Rollin, and most certainly kept +my hands off Blair. Of course, Captain Coppinger, it is right and +proper of you to address yourself to me, as the guardian of my niece, +before speaking to her." + +"I have spoken to her and she spurns me." + +"Naturally, because you spoke to her before addressing me on the +subject. My dear brother--I will do him this justice--was very +emphatic on this point. But you see, sir, my consent can never be +given." + +"I do not ask your consent." + +"Judith will never take you without it." + +"Consent or no consent," said Coppinger, "that is a secondary matter. +The first is, she does not like me, whereas I--I love her. I never +loved a woman before. I knew not what love was. I laughed at the +fools, as I took them to be, who sold themselves into the hands of +women; but now, I cannot live without her. I can think of nothing but +her all day. I am in a fever, and cannot sleep at night--all because +she is tormenting me." + +All at once, exhausted by his passion, desperate at seeing no chance +of success, angry at being flouted by a child, he threw himself into +the chair, and settled his chin on his breast, and folded his arms. + +"Go on," said he. "Tell me what is my way out of this." + +"You cannot expect my help or my advice, Captain, so as to forward +what would be most unsatisfactory to me." + +"What! do you grudge her to me?" + +"Not that; but, if she were here, what would become of me? Should I be +turned out into the cold at my age by this red-headed hussy, to find a +home for myself with strangers? Here I never would abide with her as +mistress, never." + +"I care naught about you." + +"No, of that I am aware, to my regret, sir; but that makes it all the +more necessary for me to take care for myself." + +"I see," said Coppinger, "I must buy you. Is your aid worth it? Will +she listen to you?" + +"I can make her listen to me," said Aunt Dunes, "if it be worth my +while. At my age, having roughed it, having no friends, I must think +of myself and provide for the future, when I shall be too old to +work." + +"Name your price." + +Miss Trevisa did not answer for a while; she was considering the terms +she would make. To her coarse and soured mind there was nothing to +scruple at in aiding Coppinger in his suit. The Trevisas were of a +fine old Cornish stock, but then Judith took after her mother, the +poor Scottish governess, and Aunt Dunes did not feel toward her as +though she were of her own kin. The girl looked like her mother. She +had no right, in Miss Trevisa's eyes, to bear the name of her father, +for her father ought to have known better than stoop to marry a +beggarly, outlandish governess. Not very logical reasoning, but what +woman, where her feelings are engaged, does reason logically? Aunt +Dunes had never loved her niece; she felt an inner repulsion, such as +sprang from encountering a nature superior, purer, more refined than +her own, and the mortification of being forced to admit to herself +that it was so. Judith, moreover, was costing her money, and Miss +Trevisa parted with her hard-earned savings as reluctantly as with her +heart's blood. She begrudged the girl and her brother every penny she +was forced, or believed she would be forced, to expend upon them. And +was she doing the girl an injury in helping her to a marriage that +would assure her a home and a comfortable income? + +Aunt Dionysia knew well enough that things went on in Pentyre Glaze +that were not to be justified, that Coppinger's mode of life was not +one calculated to make a girl of Judith's temperament happy, +but--"Hoity-toity!" said Miss Trevisa to herself, "if girls marry, +they must take men as they find them. Beggars must not be choosers. +You must not look a gift horse in the mouth. No trout can be eaten +apart from its bones, nor a rose plucked that is free from thorns." +She herself had accommodated herself to the ways of the house, to the +moods and manners of Coppinger; and if she could do that, so could a +mongrel Trevisa. What was good enough for herself was over-good for +Judith. + +She had been saddled with these children, much against her wishes, +and if she shifted the saddle to the shoulders of one willing to bear +it, why not? She had duties to perform to her own self as well as to +those thrust on her by the dead hand of that weak, that inconsiderate +brother of hers, Peter Trevisa. + +Would her brother have approved of her forwarding this union? That was +a question that did not trouble her much. Peter did what he thought +best for his daughter when he was alive, stuffing her head with Rollin +and Blair, and now that he was gone, she must do the best she could +for her, and here was a chance offered that she would be a fool not to +snap at. + +Nor did she concern herself greatly whether Judith's happiness were at +stake. Hoity-toity! girls' happiness! They are bound to make +themselves happy when they find themselves. The world was not made to +fit them, but they to accommodate themselves to the places in which +they found themselves in the world. + +Miss Trevisa had for some days seen the direction matters were taking, +she had seen clearly enough the infatuation--yes, infatuation she said +it was--that had possessed Coppinger. What he could see in the girl +passed her wits to discover. To her, Judith was an odious little +minx--very like her mother. Miss Trevisa, therefore, had had time to +weigh the advantages and the disadvantages that might spring to her, +should Coppinger persist in his suit and succeed; and she had +considered whether it would be worth her while to help or to hinder +his suit. + +"You put things," said Aunt Dionysia, "in a blunt and a discourteous +manner, such as might offend a lady of delicacy, like myself, who am +in delicacy a perfect guava jelly; but, Captain, I know your ways, as +I ought to, having been an inmate of this house for many years. It is +no case of buying and selling, as you insinuate, but the case is +plainly this: I know the advantage it will be to my niece to be +comfortably provided for. She and Jamie have between them but about a +thousand pounds, a sum to starve, and not to live, upon. They have no +home and no relative in the world but myself, who am incapable of +giving them a home and of doing anything for them except at an +excruciating sacrifice. If Judith be found, through your offer, a +home, then Jamie also is provided for." + +He said nothing to this, but moved his feet impatiently. She went on: +"The boy _must_ be provided for. And if Judith become your wife, not +only will it be proper for you to see that he is so, but Judith will +give neither you nor me our natural rest until the boy is comfortable +and happy." + +"Confound the boy!" + +"It is all very well to say that, but he who would have anything to +say to Judith must reckon to have to consider Jamie also. They are +inseparable. Now, I assume that by Judith's marriage Jamie is cared +for. But how about myself? Is every one to lie in clover and I in +stubble? Am I to rack my brains to find a home for my nephew and +niece, only that I may be thrust out myself? To find for them places +at your table, that I may be deprived of a crust and a bone under it? +If no one else will consider me, I must consider myself. I am the last +representative of an ancient and honorable family--" She saw Coppinger +move his hand, and thought he expressed dissent. She added hastily, +"As to Judith and Jamie, they take after their Scotch mother. I do not +reckon them as Trevisas." + +"Come--tell me what you want," said Coppinger, impatiently. + +"I want to be secure for my old age, that I do not spend it in the +poor-house." + +"What do you ask?" + +"Give me an annuity of fifty pounds for my life, and Othello Cottage +that is on your land." + +"You ask enough." + +"You will never get Judith without granting me that." + +"Well--get Judith to be mine, and you shall have it." + +"Will you swear to it?" + +"Yes." + +"And give me--I desire that--the promise in writing." + +"You shall have it." + +"Then I will help you." + +"How?" + +"Leave that to me. I am her guardian." + +"But not of her heart?" + +"Leave her to me. You shall win her." + +"How!" + +"Through Jamie." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +OTHELLO COTTAGE. + + +To revert to the old life as far as possible under changed +circumstances, to pass a sponge over a terrible succession of +pictures, to brush out the vision of horrors from her eyes, and shake +the burden of the past off her head--if for a while only--was a joy to +Judith. She had been oppressed with nightmare, and now the night was +over, her brain clear, and should forget its dreams. + +She and Jamie were together, and were children once more; her anxiety +for her brother was allayed, and she had broken finally with Cruel +Coppinger. Her heart bounded with relief. Jamie was simple and docile +as of old; and she rambled with him through the lanes, along the +shore, upon the downs, avoiding only one tract of common and one cove. + +A child's heart is elastic; eternal droopings it cannot bear. Beaten +down, bruised and draggled by the storm, it springs up when the sun +shines, and laughs into flower. It is no eucalyptus that ever hangs +its leaves; it is a sensitive plant, wincing, closing, at a trifle, +feeling acutely, but not for long. + +And now Judith had got an idea into her head, that she communicated to +Jamie, and her sanguine anticipations kindled his torpid mind. She had +resolved to make little shell baskets and other chimney ornaments, not +out of the marine shells cast up by the sea, for on that coast none +came ashore whole, but out of the myriad snail-shells that strew the +downs. They were of all sizes, from a pin's head to a gooseberry, and +of various colors--salmon-pink, sulphur-yellow, rich brown and pure +white. By judicious arrangement of sizes and of colors, with a little +gum on cardboard, what wonderful erections might be made, certain to +charm the money out of the pocket, and bring in a little fortune to +the twins. + +"And then," said Jamie, "I can build a linney, and rent a paddock, and +keep my Neddy at Polzeath." + +"And," said Judith, "we need be no longer a burden to Auntie." + +The climax of constructive genius would be exhibited in the formation +of a shepherd and shepherdess, for which Judith was to paint faces and +hands; but their hats, their garments, their shoes, were to be made of +shells. The shepherdess was to have a basket on her arm, and in this +basket were to be flowers, not made out of complete shells, but out of +particles of sea-shells of rainbow colors. + +What laughter, what exultation there was over the shepherd and +shepherdess! How in imagination they surpassed the fascinations of +Dresden china figures. And the price at which they were to be sold was +settled. Nothing under a pound would be accepted, and that would be +inadequate to represent the value of such a monument of skill and +patience! The shepherd and shepherdess would have to be kept under +glass bells, on a drawing-room mantel-shelf. + +Judith's life had hitherto been passed between her thoughtful, +cultured father and her thoughtless, infantile brother. In some +particulars she was old for her age, but in others she was younger +than her years. As the companion of her father, she had gained powers +of reasoning, a calmness in judging, and a shrewdness of sense which +is unusual in a girl of eighteen. But as also the associate of Jamie +in his play, she had a childish delight in the simplest amusements, +and a readiness to shake off all serious thought and fretting care in +an instant, and to accommodate herself to the simplicity of her +brother. + +Thus--a child with a child--Judith and Jamie were on the common one +windy, showery day, collecting shells, laughing, chattering, rejoicing +over choice snail-shells, as though neither had passed through a wave +of trouble, as though life lay serene before them. + +Judith had no experience of the world. With her natural wit and +feminine instinct she had discovered that Cruel Coppinger loved her. +She had also no hesitation in deciding that he must be repulsed. +Should he seek her, she must avoid him. They could not possibly unite +their lives. She had told him this, and there the matter ended. He +must swallow his disappointment, and think no more about her. No one +could have everything he wanted. Other people had to put up with +rejection, why not Coppinger? It might be salutary to him to find that +he could not have his way in all things. So she argued, and then she +put aside from her all thought of the Captain, and gave herself up to +consideration of snail-shell boxes, baskets, and shepherds and +shepherdesses. + +Jamie was developing a marvellous aptitude for bird-stuffing. Mr. +Menaida had told Judith repeatedly that if the boy would stick to it, +he might become as skilful as himself. He would be most happy, +thankful to be able to pass over to him some of the work that +accumulated, and which he could not execute. "I am not a professional; +I am an amateur. I only stuff birds to amuse my leisure moments. +Provokingly enough, gentlemen do not believe this. They write to me as +if I were a tradesman, laying their commands upon me, and I resent it. +I have a small income of my own, and am not forced to slave for my +bread and 'baccy. Now, if Jamie will work with me and help me, I will +cheerfully share profits with him. I must be director--that is +understood." + +But it was very doubtful whether poor Jamie could be taught to apply +himself regularly to the work, and that under a desultory master, who +could not himself remain at a task many minutes without becoming +exhausted and abandoning it. Jamie could be induced to work only by +being humored. He loved praise. He must be coaxed and flattered to +undertake any task that gave trouble. Fortunately, taxidermy did not +require any mental effort, and it was the straining of his imperfect +mental powers that irritated and exhausted the boy. + +With a little cajolery he might be got to do as much as did Uncle +Zachie, and if Mr. Menaida were as good as his word--and there could +be little doubt that so kind, amiable, and honorable a man would be +that--Jamie would really earn a good deal of money. Judith also hoped +to earn more with her shell-work, and together she trusted they would +be able to support themselves without further tax on Miss Trevisa. + +And what a childish pleasure they found in scheming their future, what +they would do with their money, where they would take a house, how +furnish it! They laughed over their schemes, and their pulses +fluttered at the delightful pictures they conjured up. And all their +rosy paradise was to rise out of the proceeds of stuffed birds and +snail-shell chimney ornaments. + +"Ju! come here, Ju!" cried Jamie. + +Then again impatiently, "Ju! come here, Ju!" + +"What is it, dear?" + +"Here is the very house for us. Do come and see." + +On the down, nestled against a wall that had once enclosed a garden, +but was now ruinous, stood a cottage. It was built of wreck-timber, +thatched with heather and bracken, and with stones laid on the +thatching, which was bound with ropes, as protection against the wind. +A quaint, small house, with little windows under the low eaves; one +story high, the window-frames painted white; the glass frosted with +salt blown from the sea, so that it was impossible to look through the +small panes, and discover what was within. The door had a gable over +it, and the centre of the gable was occupied by a figure-head of +Othello. The Moor of Venice was black and well battered by storm, so +that the paint was washed and bitten off him. There was a strong brick +chimney in the midst of the roof, but no smoke issued from it, nor had +the house the appearance of being inhabited. There were no blinds to +the windows, there were no crocks, no drying linen about the house; it +had a deserted look, and yet was in good repair. + +"Oh, Ju!" said Jamie, "we will live here. Will it not be fun? And I +shall have a gun and shoot birds." + +"Whose house can it be?" asked Judith. + +"I don't know. Ju, the door is open; shall we go in?" + +"No, Jamie, we have no right there." + +A little gate was in the wall, and Judith looked through. There had at +one time certainly been a garden there, but it had been neglected, and +allowed to be overrun with weeds. Roses, escallonica, and lavender had +grown in untrimmed luxuriance. Marigolds rioted over the space like a +weed. Pinks flourished, loving the sandy soil, but here and there the +rude blue thistle had intruded and asserted its right to the +sea-border land as its indigenous home. + +Down came the rain, so lashing that Judith was constrained to seek +shelter, and, in spite of her protest that she had no right to enter +Othello Cottage, she passed the threshold. + +No one was within but Jamie, who had not attended to her objection; +led by curiosity, and excusing himself by the rain, he had opened the +door and gone inside. + +The house was unoccupied, and yet was not in a condition of neglect +and decay. If no one lived there, yet certainly some one visited it, +for it had not that mouldy atmosphere that pervades a house long shut +up, nor were dust and sand deep on floor and table. There was +furniture, though scanty. The hearth showed traces of having had a +fire in it at no very distant period. There were benches. There were +even tinder-box and candle on the mantle-shelf. + +Jamie was in high excitement and delight. This was the ogre's cottage +to which Jack had climbed up the bean-stalk. He was sure to find +somewhere the hen that laid golden eggs, and the harp that played of +itself. + +Judith seated herself on one of the benches and sorted her shells, +leaving Jamie to amuse himself. As the house was uninhabited, it did +not seem to her that any gross impropriety existed in allowing him to +run in and out and peep round the rooms, and into the corners. + +"Judith," he exclaimed, coming to her from an adjoining room, "there +is a bed in here, and there are crooks in the wall!" + +"What are the crooks for, dear?" + +"For climbing, I think." + +Then he ran back, and she saw no more of him for a while, but heard +him scrambling. + +She rose and went to the door into the adjoining apartment to see that +he was after no mischief. She found that this apartment was intended +for sleeping in. There was a bedstead with a mattress on it, but no +clothes. Jamie had found some crooks in the wall, and was scrambling +up these, with hands and feet, toward the ceiling, where she perceived +an opening, apparently into the attic. + +"Oh, Jamie! what are you doing there?" + +"Ju, I want to see whether there is anything between the roof and the +ceiling. There may be the harp there, or the hen that lays golden +eggs." + +"The shower is nearly over; I shall not wait for you." + +She seated herself on the bed and watched him. He thrust open a +sliding board, and crawled through into the attic. He would soon tire +of exploring among the rafters, and would return dirty, and have to +be cleared of cobwebs and dust. But it amused the boy. He was ever +restless, and she would find it difficult to keep him occupied sitting +by her below till the rain ceased, so she allowed him to scramble and +search as he pleased. Very few minutes had passed before Judith heard +a short cough in the main room, and she at once rose and stepped back +into it to apologize for her intrusion. To her great surprise she +found her aunt there, at the little window, measuring it. + +"A couple of yards will do--double width," said Miss Trevisa. + +"Auntie!" exclaimed Judith. "Who ever would have thought of seeing you +here?" + +Miss Trevisa turned sharply round, and her lips tightened. + +"And who would have thought of seeing you here," she answered, curtly. + +"Auntie, the rain came on; I ran in here so as not to be wet through. +To whom does this house belong?" + +"To the master--to whom else? Captain Coppinger." + +"Are you measuring the window for blinds for him?" + +"I am measuring for blinds, but not for him." + +"But--who lives here?" + +"No one as yet." + +"Is any one coming to live here?" + +"Yes--I am." + +"Oh, auntie! and are we to come here with you?" + +Miss Trevisa snorted, and stiffened her back. + +"Are you out of your senses, like Jamie, to ask such a question? What +is the accommodation here? Two little bedrooms, one large kitchen, and +a lean-to for scullery--that is all--a fine roomy mansion for three +people indeed!" + +"But, auntie, are you leaving the Glaze?" + +"Yes, I am. Have you any objection to that?" + +"No, aunt, only I am surprised. And Captain Cruel lets you have this +dear little cottage?" + +"As to its being dear, I don't know, I am to have it; and that is how +you have found it open to poke and pry into. I came up to look round +and about me, and then found I had not brought my measuring tape with +me, so I returned home for that, and you found the door open and +thrust yourself in." + +"I am very sorry if I have given you annoyance." + +"Oh, it's no annoyance to me. The place is not mine yet." + +"But when do you come here, Aunt Dunes?" + +"When?" Miss Trevisa looked at her niece with a peculiar expression in +her hard face that Judith noticed, but could not interpret. "That," +said Miss Trevisa, "I do not know yet." + +"I suppose you will do up that dear little garden," said Judith. + +Miss Trevisa did not vouchsafe an answer; she grunted, and resumed her +measuring. + +"Has this cottage been vacant for long, auntie?" + +"Yes." + +"But, auntie, some one comes here. It is not quite deserted." + +Miss Trevisa said to herself, "Four times two and one breadth torn in +half to allow for folds will do it. Four times two is eight, and one +breadth more is ten." + +Just then Jamie appeared, shyly peeping through the door. He had heard +his aunt's voice, and was afraid to show himself. Her eye, however, +observed him, and in a peremptory tone she ordered him to come +forward. + +But Jamie would not obey her willingly, and he deemed it best for him +to make a dash through the kitchen to the open front door. + +"That boy!" growled Miss Trevisa, "I'll be bound he has been at +mischief." + +"Auntie, I think the rain has ceased, I will say good-by." + +Then Judith left the cottage. + +"Ju," said Jamie, when he was with his sister beyond earshot of the +aunt, "such fun--I have something to tell you." + +"What is it, Jamie?" + +"I won't tell you till we get home." + +"Oh, Jamie, not till we get back to Polzeath?" + +"Well, not till we get half-way home--to the white gate. Then I will +tell you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +JAMIE'S RIDE. + + +"Now, Jamie! the white gate." + +"The white gate!--what about that?" He had forgotten his promise. + +"You have a secret to tell me." + +Then the boy began to laugh and to tap his pockets. + +"What do you think, Ju! look what I have found. Do you know what is in +the loft of the cottage we were in? There are piles of tobacco, all up +hidden away in the dark under the rafters. I have got my pockets +stuffed as full as they will hold. It is for Uncle Zachie. Won't he be +pleased?" + +"Oh, Jamie! you should not have done that." + +"Why not? Don't scold, Ju!" + +"It is stealing." + +"No, it is not. No one lives there." + +"Nevertheless it belongs to some one, by whatever means it was got, +and for whatever purpose stowed away there. You had no right to touch +it." + +"Then why do you take snail-shells?" + +"They belong to no one, no one values them. It is other with this +tobacco. Give it up. Take it back again." + +"What--to Aunt Dunes? I daren't, she's so cross." + +"Well, give it to me, and I will take it to her. She is now at the +cottage, and the tobacco can be replaced." + +"Oh, Ju, I should like to see her scramble up the wall!" + +"I do not think she will do that; but she will contrive somehow to +have the tobacco restored. It is not yours, and I believe it belongs +to Captain Cruel. If it be not given back now he may hear of it and be +very angry." + +"He would beat me," said the boy, hastily emptying his pockets. "I'd +rather have Aunt Dunes' jaw than Captain Cruel's stick." He gave the +tobacco to his sister, but he was not in a good humor. He did not see +the necessity for restoring it. But Jamie never disobeyed his sister, +when they were alone, and she was determined with him. Before others +he tried to display his independence, by feeble defiances never long +maintained, and ending in a reconciliation with tears and kisses, and +promises of submission without demur for the future. With all, even +the most docile children, there occur epochs when they try their +wings, strut and ruffle their plumes, and crow very loud--epochs of +petulance or boisterous outbreak of self-assertion in the face of +their guides and teachers. If the latter be firm, the trouble passes +away to be renewed at a future period till manhood or womanhood is +reached, and then guide and teacher who is wise falls back, lays down +control, and lets the pupils have their own way. But if at the first +attempts at mastery, those in authority, through indifference or +feebleness or folly, give way, then the fate of the children is +sealed, they are spoiled for ever. + +Jamie had his rebellious fits, and they were distressing to Judith, +but she never allowed herself to be conquered. She evaded provoking +them whenever possible; and as much as possible led him by his +affection. He had a very tender heart, was devotedly attached to his +sister, and appeals to his better nature were usually successful, not +always immediately, but in the long run. + +Her association with Jamie had been of benefit to Judith; it had +strengthened her character. She had been forced from earliest +childhood to be strong where he was weak, to rule because he was +incapable of ruling himself. This had nurtured in her a decision of +mind, a coolness of judgment, and an inflexibility of purpose unusual +in a girl of her years. + +Judith walked to Othello Cottage, carrying the tobacco in her skirt, +held up by both hands; and Jamie sauntered back to Polzeath, carrying +his sister's basket of shells, stopping at intervals to add to the +collection, then ensconcing himself in a nook of the hedge to watch a +finch, a goldhammer, or a blackbird, then stopped to observe and +follow a beetle of gorgeous metallic hues that was running across the +path. + +Presently he emerged into the highway, the parish road; there was no +main road in those parts maintained by toll-gates, and then observed a +gig approach in which sat two men, one long and narrow-faced, the +other tall, but stout and round-faced. He recognized the former at +once as Mr. Scantlebray, the appraiser. Mr. Scantlebray, who was +driving, nudged his companion, and with the butt-end of the whip +pointed to the boy. + +"Heigh! hi-up! Gaffer!" called Mr. Scantlebray, flapping his arms +against his sides, much as does a cock with his wings. "Come along; I +have something of urgent importance to say to you--something so good +that it will make you squeak; something so delicious that it will make +your mouth water." + +This was addressed to Jamie, as the white mare leisurely trotted up to +where the boy stood. Then Scantlebray drew up, with his elbows at +right angles to his trunk. + +"Here's my brother thirsting, ravening to make your acquaintance--and, +by George! you are in luck's way, young hopeful, to make his. Obadiah! +this here infant is an orphing. Orphing! this is Obadiah Scantlebray, +whom I call Scanty because he is fat. Jump up, will y', into the gig." + +Jamie looked vacantly about him. He had an idea that he ought to wait +for Judith or go directly home. But she had not forbidden him to have +a ride, and a ride was what he dearly loved. + +"Are you coming?" asked Scantlebray; "or do you need a more +ceremonious introduction to Mr. Obadiah, eh?" + +"I've got a basket of shells," said Jamie. "They belong to Ju." + +"Well, put Ju's basket in--the shells won't hurt--and then in with +you. There's a nice little portmantle in front, on which you can sit +and look us in the face, and if you don't tumble off with laughing, it +will be because I strap you in. My brother is the very comicalest +fellow in Cornwall. It's a wonder I haven't died of laughter. I should +have, but our paths diverged; he took up the medical line, and I the +valuation and all that, so my life was saved. Are you comfortable +there?" + +"Yes, sir," said Jamie, seated himself where advised. + +"Now for the strap round ye," said Scantlebray. "Don't be alarmed; +it's to hold you together, lest you split your sides with merriment, +and to hold you in, lest you tumble overboard convulsed with +laughter. That brother of mine is the killingest man in Great +Britain. Look at his face. Bless me! in church I should explode when I +saw him, but that I am engrossed in my devotions. On with you, Juno!" + +That to the gray mare, and a whip applied to make the gray mare trot +along, which she did, with her head down lost in thought, or as if +smelling the road, to make sure that she was on the right track. + +"'Tisn't what he says," remarked Mr. Scantlebray, seeing a questioning +expression on Jamie's innocent face, "it's the looks of him. And when +he speaks--well, it's the way he says it more than what he says. I was +at a Charity Trust dinner, and Obadiah said to the waiter, 'Cutlets, +please!' The fellow dropped the dish, and I stuffed my napkin into my +mouth, ran out, and went into a fit. Now, Scanty, show the young +gentleman how to make a rabbit." + +Then Mr. Scantlebray tickled up the mare with the lash of his whip, +cast some objurgations at a horse-fly that was hovering and then +darting at Juno. + +Mr. Obadiah drew forth a white but very crumpled kerchief from his +pocket, and proceeded to fold it on his lap. + +"Just look at him," said the agent, "doing it in spite of the motion +of the gig. It's wonderful. But his face is the butchery. I can't look +at it for fear of letting go the reins." + +The roads were unfrequented; not a person was passing as the party +jogged along. Mr. Scantlebray hissed to the mare between his front +teeth, which were wide apart; then, turning his eye sideways, observed +what his brother was about. + +"That's his carcase," said he, in reference to the immature rabbit. + +Then a man was sighted coming along the road, humming a tune. It was +Mr. Menaida. + +"How are you? Compliments to the young lady orphing, and say we're +jolly--all three," shouted Scantlebray, urging his mare to a faster +pace, and keeping her up to it till they had turned a corner, and +Menaida was no more in sight. + +"Just look at his face, as he's a folding of that there +pockyhandkercher," said the appraiser. "It's exploding work." + +Jamie looked into the stolid features of Mr. Obadiah, and +laughed--laughed heartily, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. +Not that he saw aught humorous there, but that he was told it was +there, he ought to see it, and would be a fool if he were not +convulsed by it. + +Precisely the same thing happens with us. We look at and go into +raptures over a picture, because it is by a Royal Academician who has +been knighted on account of his brilliant successes. We are charmed at +a cantata, stifling our yawns, because we are told by the art critics +who are paid to puff it, that we are fools, and have no ears if we do +not feel charmed by it. We rush to read a new novel, and find it +vastly clever, because an eminent statesman has said on a postcard it +has pleased him. + +We laugh when told to laugh, condemn when told to condemn, and would +stand on our heads if informed that it was bad for us to walk on our +feet. + +"There!" said Mr. Scantlebray, the valuer. "Them's ears." + +"Crrrh!" went Mr. Obadiah, and the handkerchief, converted into a +white bunny, shot from his hand up his sleeve. + +"I can't drive, 'pon my honor; I'm too ill. You have done me for +to-day," said Scantlebray the elder, the valuer. "Now, young hopeful, +what say you? Will you make a rabbit, also? I'll give you a shilling +if you will." + +Thereupon Jamie took the kerchief and spread it out, and began to fold +it. Whenever he went wrong Mr. Obadiah made signs, either by elevation +of his brows and a little shake of his head, or by pointing, and his +elder brother caught him at it and protested. Obadiah was the drollest +fellow, he was incorrigible, as full of mischief as an egg is full of +meat. There was no trusting him for a minute when the eye was off him. + +"Come, Scanty! I'll put you on your honor. Look the other way." But a +moment after--"Ah, for shame! there you are at it again. Young +hopeful, you see what a vicious brother I have; perfectly +untrustworthy, but such a comical dog. Full of tricks up to the ears. +You should see him make shadows on the wall. He can represent a pig +eating out of a trough. You see the ears flap, the jaws move, the eye +twinkle in appreciation of the barley-meal. It is to the life, and all +done by the two hands--by one, I may say, for the other serves as +trough. What! Done the rabbit! First rate! Splendid! Here is the +shilling. But, honor bright, you don't deserve it; that naughty Scanty +helped you." + +"Please," said Jamie, timidly, "may I get out now and go home?" + +"Go home! What for?" + +"I want to show Ju my shilling." + +"By ginger! that is too rich. Not a bit of it. Do you know Mistress +Polgrean's sweetie shop?" + +"But that's at Wadebridge." + +"At Wadebridge; and why not? You will spend your shilling there. But +look at my brother. It is distressing; his eyes are alight at the +thoughts of the tartlets, and the sticks of peppermint sugar, and the +almond rock. Are you partial to almond rock, orphin?" + +Jamie's mind was at once engaged. + +"Which is it to be? Gingerbreads or tartlets, almond rock or +barley-sugar?" + +"I think I'll have the peppermint," said Jamie. + +"Then peppermint it shall be. And you will give me a little bit, and +Scanty a bit, and take a little bit home to Ju, eh?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"He'll take a little bit home to Ju, Obadiah, old man." + +The funny brother nodded. + +"And the basket of shells?" asked the elder. + +"Yes, she is making little boxes with them to sell," said Jamie. + +"I suppose I may have the privilege of buying some," said Mr. +Scantlebray, senior. "Oh, look at that brother of mine! How he is +screwing his nose about! I say, old man, are you ill? Upon my life, I +believe he is laughing." + +Presently Jamie got restless. + +"Please, Mr. Scantlebray, may I get out? Ju will be frightened at my +being away so long." + +"Poor Ju!" said Scantlebray, the elder. "But no--don't you worry your +mind about that. We passed Uncle Zachie, and he will tell her where +you are, in good hands, or rather, nipped between most reliable +knees--my brother's and mine. Sit still. I can't stop Juno; we're +going down-hill now, and if I stopped Juno she would fall. You must +wait--wait till we get to Mrs. Polgrean's." Then, after chuckling-to +himself, Scantlebray, senior, said: "Obadiah, old man, I wonder what +Missie Ju is thinking? I wonder what she will say, eh?" Again he +chuckled. "No place in your establishment for that party, eh?" + +The outskirts of Wadebridge were reached. + +"Now may I get out?" said Jamie. + +"Bless my heart! Not yet. Wait for Mrs. Polgrean's." + +But presently Mrs. Polgrean's shop-window was passed. + +"Oh, stop! stop!" cried Jamie. "We have gone by the sweetie shop." + +"Of course we have," answered Scantlebray, senior. "I daren't trust +that brother of mine in there; he has such a terrible sweet tooth. +Besides, I want you to see the pig eating out of the trough. It will +kill you. If it don't I'll give you another shilling." + +Presently he drew up at the door of a stiff, square-built house, with +a rambling wing thrown out on one side. It was stuccoed and painted +drab--drab walls, drab windows, and drab door. + +"Now, then, young man," said Scantlebray, cheerily, "I'll unbuckle the +strap and let you out. You come in with me. This is my brother's +mansion, roomy, pleasant, and comprehensive. You shall have a dish of +tea." + +"And then I may go home?" + +"And then--we shall see; shan't we, Obadiah, old man?" + +They entered the hall, and the door was shut and fastened behind them; +then into a somewhat dreary room, with red flock paper on the walls, +no pictures, leather-covered, old, mahogany chairs, and a book or two +on the table--one of these a Bible. + +Jamie looked wonderingly about him, a little disposed to cry. He was a +long way from Polzeath, and Judith would be waiting for him and +anxious, and the place into which he was ushered was not cheery, not +inviting. + +"Now, then," said Mr. Scantlebray, "young hopeful, give me my +shilling." + +"Please, I'm going to buy some peppermint and burnt almonds for Ju and +me as I go back." + +"Oh, indeed! But suppose you do not have the chance?" + +Jamie looked vacantly in his face, then into that of the stolid +brother, who was not preparing to show him the pig feeding out of a +trough, nor was he calling for tea. + +"Come," said Scantlebray, the elder; "suppose I take charge of that +shilling till you have the chance of spending it, young man." + +"Please, I'll spend it now." + +"Not a bit. You won't have the chance. Do you know where you are!" + +Jamie looked round in distress. He was becoming frightened at the +altered tone of the valuer. + +"My dear," said Mr. Scantlebray, "you're now an honorable inmate of my +brother's Establishment for Idiots, which you don't leave till cured +of imbecility. That shilling, if you please?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +ALL IS FOR THE BEST IN THE BEST OF WORLDS. + + +Judith returned to the cottage of Mr. Menaida, troubled in mind, for +Aunt Dunes had been greatly incensed at the taking of the tobacco by +Jamie, and not correspondingly gratified by the return of it so +promptly by Judith. Miss Trevisa was a woman who magnified and +resented any wrong done, but minimized and passed over as unworthy of +notice whatever was generous, and every attempt made to repay an evil. +Such attempts not only met with no favor from her, but were perverted +in her crabbed mind into fresh affronts or injuries. That the theft of +Jamie would not have been discovered had not Judith spoken of it and +brought back what had been taken, was made of no account by Aunt +Dionysia; she attacked Judith with sharp reproach for allowing the boy +to be mischievous, for indulging him and suffering him to run into +danger through his inquisitiveness and thoughtlessness. "For," said +Aunt Dionysia, "had the master or any of his men found out what Jamie +had done there is no telling how he might have been served." Then she +had muttered: "If you will not take precautions, other folk must, and +the boy must be put where he can be properly looked after and kept +from interfering with the affairs of others." + +On reaching Mr. Menaida's cottage, Judith called her brother, but as +she did not receive an answer, she went in quest of him, and was met +by the servant, Jump. "If you please, miss," said Jump, "there's been +two gen'lemen here, as said they was come from Mrs. Trevisa, and said +they was to pack and take off Master Jamie's clothes. And please miss, +I didn't know what to do--they was gen'lemen, and the master--he was +out, and you was out, miss--and Master Jamie, he wasn't to home +n'other." + +"Taken Jamie's clothes!" repeated Judith, in amazement. + +"Yes, miss, they brought a portmantle a-purpose; and they'd a gig at +the door; and they spoke uncommon pleasant, leastwise one o' them +did." + +"And where is Jamie? Has he not come home?" + +"No, miss." + +At that moment Mr. Menaida came in. + +"What is it, Judith? Jamie? Where Jamie is?--why, having a ride, +seated between the two Scantlebrays, in their gig. That is where he +is." + +"Oh, Mr. Menaida, but they have taken his clothes!" + +"Whose clothes?" + +"Jamie's." + +"I do not understand." + +"The two gentlemen came to this house when you and I were out, and +told Jump that they were empowered by my aunt to pack up and carry off +all Jamie's clothing, which they put into a portmanteau they had +brought with them." + +"And then picked up Jamie. He was sitting on the portmanteau," said +Uncle Zachie; then his face became grave. "They said that they acted +under authority from Mrs. Trevisa?" + +"So Jump says." + +"It can surely not be that he has been moved to the asylum." + +"Asylum, Mr. Menaida?" + +"The idiot asylum." + +Judith uttered a cry, and staggered back against the wall. + +"Jamie! my brother Jamie!" + +"Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray has such a place at Wadebridge." + +"But Jamie is not an idiot." + +"Your aunt authorized them--," mused Uncle Zachie. "Humph! you should +see her about it. That is the first step, and ascertain whether she +has done it, or whether they are acting with a high hand for +themselves. I'll look at my law-books--if the latter it would be +actionable." + +Judith did not hesitate for a moment. She hastened to Pentyre. That +her aunt had left Othello Cottage she was pretty sure, as she was +preparing to leave it when Judith returned with the tobacco. +Accordingly she took the road to Pentyre at once. Tears of shame and +pain welled up in her eyes at the thought of her darling brother +being beguiled away to be locked up among the imbecile in a private +establishment for the insane. Then her heart was contracted with anger +and resentment at the scurvy trick played on her and him: She did not +know that the Scantlebrays had been favored by pure accident. She +conceived that men base enough to carry off her brother would watch +and wait for the opportunity when to do it unobserved and unopposed. +She hardly walked. She ran till her breath failed her, and the rapid +throbbing of her heart would no longer allow her to run. Her dread of +approaching the Glaze after the declaration made by Captain Cruel was +overwhelmed in her immediate desire to know something about Jamie, in +her anguish of fear for him. On Coppinger she did not cast a +thought--her mind was so fully engrossed in her brother. + +She saw nothing of the Captain. She entered the house, and proceeded +at once to her aunt's apartment. She found Miss Trevisa there, seated +near the window, engaged on some chintz that she thought would do for +the window at Othello Cottage, when she took possession of it. She had +measured the piece, found that it was suitable, and was turning down a +hem and tacking it. It was a pretty chintz, covered with sprigs of +nondescript pink and blue flowers. + +Judith burst in on her, breathless, her brow covered with dew, her +bosom heaving, her face white with distress, and tears standing on her +eyelashes. She threw herself on her knees before Miss Trevisa, half +crying out and half sobbing: + +"Oh, aunt! they have taken him!" + +"Who have taken whom?" asked the elderly lady, coldly. + +She raised her eyes and cast a look full of malevolence at Judith. She +never had, did not, never would feel toward that girl as a niece. She +hated her for her mother's sake, and now she felt an unreasonable +bitterness against her, because she had fascinated Coppinger--perhaps, +also, because in a dim fashion she was aware that she herself was +acting toward the child in an unworthy, unmerciful manner, and we all +hate those whom we wrong. + +"Auntie! tell me it is not so. Mr. Scantlebray and his brother have +carried my darling Jamie away." + +"Well, and what of that!" + +"But--will they let me have him back?" + +Miss Trevisa pulled at the chintz. "I will trouble you not to crumple +this," she said. + +"Aunt! dear aunt! you did not tell Mr. Scantlebray to take Jamie away +from me?" + +The old lady did not answer, she proceeded to release the material at +which she was engaged from under the knees of Judith. The girl, in her +vehemence, put her hands to her aunt's arms, between the elbows and +shoulders, and held and pressed them back, and with imploring eyes +looked into her hard face. + +"Oh, auntie! you never sent Jamie to an asylum?" + +"I must beg you to let go my arms," said Miss Trevisa. "This conduct +strikes me as most indecorous toward one of my age and relationship." + +She avoided Judith's eye, her brow wrinkled, and her lips contracted. +The gall in her heart rose and overflowed. + +"I am not ashamed of what I have done." + +"Auntie!" with a cry of pain. Then Judith let go the old lady's arms, +and clasped her hands over her eyes. + +"Really," said Miss Trevisa, with asperity, "you are a most +exasperating person. I shall do with the boy what I see fit. You know +very well that he is a thief." + +"He never took anything before to-day--never--and you had settled this +before you knew about the tobacco!" burst from Judith, in anger and +with floods of tears. + +"I knew that he has always been troublesome and mischievous, and he +must be placed where he can be properly managed by those accustomed to +such cases." + +"There is nothing the matter with Jamie." + +"You have humored and spoiled him. If he is such a plague to all who +know him, it is because he has been treated injudiciously. He is now +with men who are experienced, and able to deal with the like of +Jamie." + +"Aunt, he must not be there. I promised my papa to be ever with him, +and to look after him." + +"Then it is a pity your father did not set this down in writing. +Please to remember that I, and not you, am constituted his guardian, +by the terms of the will." + +"Oh, aunt! aunt! let him come back to me!" + +Miss Trevisa shook her head. + +"Then let me go to him!" + +"Hoity-toity! here's airs and nonsense. Really, Judith, you are almost +imbecile enough to qualify for the asylum. But I cannot afford the +cost of you both. Jamie's cost in that establishment will be £70 in +the year, and how much do you suppose that you possess?" + +Judith remained kneeling upright, with her hands clasped, looking +earnestly through her tears at her aunt. + +"You have in all, between you, but £45 or £50. When the dilapidations +are paid, and the expenses of the funeral, and the will-proving, and +all that, I do not suppose you will be found to have a thousand pounds +between you, and that put out to interest will not bring you more than +I have said; so I shall have to make up the deficiency. That is not +pleasing to me, you may well suppose. But I had rather pay £25 out of +my poor income, than have the name of the family disgraced by Jamie." + +"Jamie will never, never disgrace the name. He is too good. And--it is +wicked, it is cruel to put him where you have. He is not an idiot." + +"I am perhaps a better judge than you; so also is Mr. Obadiah +Scantlebray, who has devoted his life to the care and study of the +imbecile. Your brother has weak intellects." + +"He is not clever; that is all. With application----" + +"He cannot apply his mind. He has no mind that can be got to be +applied." + +"Aunt, he's no idiot. He must not be kept in that place." + +"You had best go back to Polzeath. I have decided on what I considered +right. I have done my duty." + +"It cannot be just. I will see what Mr. Menaida says. He must be +released; if you will not let him out, I will." + +Miss Trevisa looked up at her quickly between her half-closed lids; a +bitter, cruel smile quivered about her lips. "If any one can deliver +him, it will be you." + +Judith did not understand her meaning, and Aunt Dionysia did not care +at that time to further enlighten her thereon. Finding her aunt +inflexible, the unhappy girl left Pentyre Glaze and hurried back to +Polzeath, where she implored Mr. Menaida to accompany her to +Wadebridge. Go there she would--she must--that same evening. If he +would not attend her, she would go alone. She could not rest, she +could not remain in the house, till she had been to the place where +Jamie was, and seen whether she could not release him thence by her +entreaties, her urgency. + +Mr. Menaida shook his head. But he was a kind-hearted old man, and was +distressed at the misery of the girl, and would not hear of her making +the expedition alone, as she could not well return before dark. So he +assumed his rough and shabby beaver hat, put on his best cravat, and +sallied forth with Judith upon her journey to Wadebridge, one that he +assured her must be fruitless, and had better be postponed till the +morrow. + +"I cannot! I cannot!" she cried. "I cannot sleep, thinking of my +darling brother in that dreadful place, with such people about him, he +crying, frightened, driven mad by the strangeness of it all, and being +away from me. I must go. If I cannot save him and bring him back with +me, I can see him and console him, and bid him wait in patience and +hope." + +Mr. Menaida with a soft heart and a weak will, was hung about with +scraps of old-world polish, scraps only. In him nothing was +complete--here and there a bare place of rustic uncouthness, there +patches of velvet courtesy of the Queen Anne age; so, also, was he +made up of fine culture, of classic learning alternating with boorish +ignorance--here high principle, there none at all--a picture worked to +a miniature in points, and in others rudely roughed in and neglected. +Now he was moved as he had not been moved for years by the manifest +unhappiness of the girl, and he was willing to do his utmost to assist +her, but that utmost consisted in little more than accompanying her to +Wadebridge and ringing at the house-bell of Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray's +establishment. When it came to the interview that ensued with the +proprietor of the establishment and jailer of Jamie, he failed +altogether. Judith and Uncle Zachie were shown into the dreary parlor +without ornaments, and presently to them entered Mr. Obadiah. + +"Oh, sir, is he here?--have you got Jamie here?" + +Mr. Scantlebray nodded his head, then went to the door and knocked +with his fists against the wall. A servant maid appeared. "Send +missus," said he, and returned to the parlor. + +Again Judith entreated to be told if her brother were there with all +the vehemence and fervor of her tattered heart. + +Mr. Obadiah listened with stolid face and vacant eyes that turned from +her to Mr. Menaida, and then back to her again. Presently an idea +occurred to him and his face brightened. He went to a sideboard, +opened a long drawer, brought out a large book, thrust it before +Judith, and said, "Pictures." Then, as she took no notice of the book, +he opened it. + +"Oh, please sir," pleaded Judith, "I don't want that. I want to know +about Jamie. I want to see him." + +Then in at the door came a lady in black silk, with small curls about +her brow. She was stout, but not florid. + +"What!" said she, "my dear, are you the young lady whose brother is +here? Don't you fret yourself. He is as comfortable as a chick in a +feathered nest. Don't you worry your little self about him now. Now +your good days have begun. He will not be a trouble and anxiety to you +any more. He is well cared for. I dare be sworn he has given you many +an hour of anxiety. Now, O be joyful! that is over, and you can dance +and play with a light heart. I have lifted the load off you, I and Mr. +Scantlebray. Here he will be very comfortable and perfectly happy. I +spare no pains to make my pets snug, and Scantlebray is inexhaustible +in his ability to amuse them. He has a way with these innocents that +is quite marvellous. Wait a while--give him and me a trial, and see +what the result is. You may believe me as one of long and tried +experience. It never does for amateurs--for relations--to undertake +these cases; they don't know when to be firm, or when to yield. We +do--it is our profession. We have studied the half-witted." + +"But my brother is _not_ half-witted." + +"So you say, and so it becomes you to say. Never admit that there is +imbecility or insanity in the family. You are quite right, my dear; +you look forward to being married some day, and you know very well it +might stand in the way of an engagement, were it supposed that you had +idiocy in the family blood. It is quite right. I understand all that +sort of thing. We call it nervous debility, and insanity we term +nervous excitement. Scantlebray, my poppet, isn't it so!" + +Mr. Obadiah nodded. + +"You leave all care to us; thrust it upon our shoulders. They will +bear it; and never doubt that your brother will be cared for in body +and in soul. In body--always something nice and light for supper, +tapioca, rice-pudding, batter; to-night, rolly-poly. After that, +prayers. We don't feed high, but we feed suitably. If you like to pay +a little extra, we will feed higher. Now, my dear, you take all as for +the best, and rely on it everything is right." + +"But Jamie ought not to be locked up." + +"My dear, he is at school under the wisest and most experienced of +teachers. You have mismanaged him. Now he will be treated +professionally; and Mr. Scantlebray superintends not the studies only, +but the amusements of the pupils. He has such a fund of humor in him." +Obadiah at once produced his pocket-handkerchief and began to fold it. +"No, dear, no ducky, no rabbit now! You fond thing, you! always +thinking of giving entertainment to some one. No, nor the parson +preaching either." He was rolling his hands together and thrusting up +his thumb as the representative of a sacred orator in his pulpit. "No, +ducky darling! another time. My husband is quite a godsend to the +nervously prostrate. He can amuse them by the hour; he never wearies +of it; he is never so happy as when he is entertaining them. You +cannot doubt that your brother will be content in the house of such a +man. Take my word for it; there is nothing like believing that all is +for the best as it is. Our pupils will soon be going to bed. +Rolly-poly and prayers, and then to bed--that is the order." + +"Oh, let me see Jamie now." + +"No, my dear. It would be injudicious. He is settling in; he is +becoming reconciled, and it would disturb him, and undo what has +already been done. Don't you say so, poppet?" + +The poppet nodded his head. + +"You see, this great authority agrees with me. Now, this evening +Jamie and the others shall have an extra treat. They shall have the +pig eating out of the trough. There--what more can you desire? As soon +as lights are brought in, then rolly-poly, prayers, and the pig and +the trough. Another time you shall see him. Not to-night. It is +inadvisable. Take my word for it, your brother is as happy as a boy +can be. He has found plenty of companions of the same condition as +himself." + +"But he is _not_ an idiot." + +"My dear, we know all about that; very nice and sweet for you to say +so--isn't it duckie?" + +The duckie agreed it was so. + +"There is the bell. My dear, another time. You will promise to come +and see me again? I have had such a delightful talk with you. +Good-night, good-night. 'All is for the best in the best of worlds.' +Put that maxim under your head and sleep upon it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +A NIGHT EXCURSION. + + +Some people are ever satisfied with what is certain to give themselves +least trouble, especially if that something concerns other persons. + +Mr. Menaida was won over by the volubility of Mrs. Scantlebray and the +placidity of Mr. Scantlebray to the conviction that Jamie was in the +very best place he could possibly be in. A lady who called Judith "my +dear" and her husband "duckie" must have a kindly heart, and a +gentleman like Mr. Obadiah, so full of resources, could not fail to +divert and gratify the minds of those under his charge, and banish +care and sorrow. And as Mr. Menaida perceived that it would be a +difficult matter to liberate Jamie from the establishment where he +was, and as it was an easy matter to conclude that the establishment +was admirably adapted to Jamie, he was content that Aunt Dionysia had +chosen the wisest course in putting him there, and that it would be to +the general advantage to cherish this opinion. For, in the first +place, it would pacify Judith, and then, by pacifying her, would give +himself none of that inconvenience, that running to and fro between +Polzeath and Wadebridge, that consultation of law-books, that +correspondence, that getting of toes and fingers into hot water, +likely to result from the impatience, the unflagging eagerness of +Judith to liberate her brother. + +Accordingly Uncle Zachie used his best endeavors to assure Judith that +Jamie certainly was happy, had never been so happy in his life before, +and that, under the treatment of so kind and experienced a man as Mr. +Obadiah Scantlebray, there was reason to believe that in a short time +Jamie would issue from under his tuition a light so brilliant as to +outshine the beacon on Trevose Head. + +Judith was unconvinced. Love is jealous and timorous. She feared lest +all should not be as was represented. There was an indefinable +something in Mrs. Scantlebray that roused her suspicion. She could not +endure that others should step into the place of responsibility toward +Jamie she had occupied so long, and which she had so solemnly assured +her father she would never abandon. Supposing that Scantlebray and his +wife were amiable and considerate persons, might they not so influence +the fickle Jamie as to displace her from his affections and insinuate +themselves in her room? + +But it was not this mainly that troubled her. She was tormented with +the thought of the lonely, nervous child in the strange house, among +strange people, in desolation of heart and deadly fear. + +Whenever he had become excited during the day he was sleepless at +night, and had to be soothed and coaxed into slumber. On such +occasions she had been wont, with the infinite, inexhaustible patience +of true love, to sit by his bed, pacifying his alarms, allaying his +agitation, singing to him, stroking his hair, holding his hand, till +his eyes closed. And how often, just as he seemed about to drop +asleep, had he become again suddenly awake, through some terror, or +some imagined discomfort? then all the soothing process had to be gone +through again, and it had always been gone through without a murmur or +an impatient word. + +Now Jamie was alone--or perhaps worse than alone--in a dormitory of +idiots, whose strange ways filled him with terror, and his dull mind +would be working to discover how he came to be there, how it was that +his Ju was not with him. Who would lull his fears, who sing to him old +familiar strains? Would any other hand rest on the hot brow and hold +it down on the pillow? + +Judith looked up to heaven, to the stars already glimmering there. She +was not hearkening to the talk of Uncle Zachie: she was thinking her +own thoughts. She was indeed walking back to Polzeath; but her mind +was nailed to that dull drab house in the suburbs of Wadebridge with +the brass plate on the door, inscribed, "Mr. Scantlebray, Surgeon." As +her eyes were raised to the stars, she thought of her father. He was +above, looking down on her, and it seemed to her that in the flicker +of the stars she saw the trouble in her father's face at the knowledge +that his children were parted, and his poor little half-bright boy +was fallen among those who had no love for him, might have no patience +with his waywardness, would not make allowance for his infirmities. + +She sobbed, and would not be comforted by Mr. Menaida's assurances. +Tired, foot-weary, but more tired and weary in heart and mind, she +reached the cottage. She could not sleep; she was restless. She sought +Jamie's room, and seated herself on the chair by his little bed, and +sobbed far on into the night. Her head ached, as did her burning and +blistered feet; and as she sat she dozed off, then awoke with a start, +so distinctly did she seem to hear Jamie's voice--his familiar tone +when in distress--crying, "Ju! Come to me, Ju!" So vividly did the +voice sound to her that she could not for a moment or two shake off +the conviction that she had in reality heard him. She thought that he +must have called her. He must be unhappy. What were those people doing +to him? Were they tormenting the poor little frightened creature? Were +they putting him into a dark room by himself, and was he nearly mad +with terror? Were they beating him, because he cried out in the night +and disturbed the house? + +She imagined him sitting up on a hard bed, shivering with fear, +looking round him in the dark, and screaming for her--and she could +not help him. + +"Oh, Jamie!" she cried, and threw herself on her knees and put her +hands over her eyes to shut out the horrible sight, over her ears to +close them to the piercing cry. "They will drive him mad! Oh, papa! my +papa! what will you say to me? Oh, my Jamie! what can I do for you?" + +She was half mad herself, mad with fancies, conjured up by the fever +of distress into which she had worked herself. What could she do? She +could not breathe in that room. She could not breathe in the house. +She could not remain so far from Jamie--and he crying for her. His +voice rang still in her ears. It sounded in her heart, it drew her +irresistibly away. If she could but be outside that drab establishment +in the still night, to listen, and hear if all were quiet within, or +whether Jamie were calling, shrieking for her. He would cry himself +into fits. He would become really deranged, unless he were pacified. +Oh! those people!--she imagined they were up, not knowing what to do +with the boy, unable to soothe him, and were now wishing that she +were there, wishing they had not sent her away. + +Judith was in that condition which is one of half craze through +brooding on her fears, through intense sympathy with the unhappy boy +so ruthlessly spirited away, through fever of the blood, caused by +long-protracted nervous strain, through over-weariness of mind and +body. Jamie's distress, his need for her became an idea that laid hold +of her, that could not be dispelled, that tortured her into +recklessness. She could not lie on her bed, she could not rest her +head for one moment. She ran to the window, panting, and smoked the +glass with her burning breath, so that she could not see through it. + +The night was still, the sky clear, and there were stars in it. Who +would be abroad at that time? What danger would ensue to her if she +went out and ran back to Wadebridge? If any foot were to be heard on +the road, she could hide. She had gone out at night in storm to save +Cruel Coppinger--should she not go out in still starlight to aid her +own twin-brother, if he needed her? Providence had shielded her +before--it would shield her now. + +The house was quiet. Mr. Menaida had long ago gone to bed, and was +asleep. His snores were usually audible at night through the cottage. +Jump was asleep, sound in sleep as any hard-worked sewing-wench. +Judith had not undressed, had not taken off her shoes; she had +wandered, consumed by restlessness, between her own room and that of +her brother. + +It was impossible for her to remain there. She felt that she would die +of imaginings of evil unless she were near Jamie, unless there were +naught but a wall between him and her. + +Judith descended the stairs and once again went forth alone into the +night, not now to set her face seaward, but landward; before she had +gone with a defined aim in view, to warn Coppinger of his danger, now +she was moved by a vague suspicion of evil. + +The night was calm, but there was summer lightning on the horizon, +attended by no thunder, a constant flicker, sometimes a flare, as +though some bonfire were kindled beyond the margin of the world, that +was being stirred and added to. The air was close. + +Judith had no one to look to in the world to help her and Jamie--not +her aunt, her sole relative, it was she who had sent her brother to +this place of restraint; not Mr. Menaida, he had not the moral courage +and energy of purpose to succor her in her effort to release Jamie; +not Captain Coppinger--him she dare not ask, lest he should expect too +much in return. The hand of misfortune was heavy on the girl; if +anything was to be done to relieve the pressure, she must do it +herself. + +As she was going hastily along the lane she suddenly halted. She heard +some one a little way before her. There was no gate near by which she +could escape. The lane was narrow, and the hedges low, so as not to +afford sufficient shadow to conceal her. By the red summer flashes she +saw a man reeling toward her round the corner. His hat was on one side +of his head, and he lurched first to one side of the lane, then to the +other. + + "There went three trav'llers over the moor-- + Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he. + Three trav'llers over the moor so green, + The one sang high, the third sang low, + Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he, + And the second he trolled between." + +Then he stood still. + +"Huph! huph!" he shouted. "Some one else go on, I'm done +for--'Ri-tiddle-de.'" + +He saw Judith by the starlight and by the flicker of the lightning, +and put his head on one side and capered toward her with arms +extended, chirping--"'Ri-tiddle-riddle-rol, huph! said he.'" + +Judith started on one side, and the drunken man pursued her, but in so +doing, stumbled, and fell sprawling on the ground. He scrambled to his +feet again, and began to swear at her and sent after her a volley of +foul and profane words. Had he contented himself with this it would +have been bad enough, but he also picked up a stone and threw it. +Judith felt a blow on her head, and the lightning flashes seemed to be +on all sides of her, and then great black clouds to be rising like +smoke out of the earth about her. She staggered into the hedge, and +sank on her knees. + +But fear lest the tipsy ruffian should pursue her nerved her to make +an effort to escape. She quickly rose and ran along the lane, turned +the corner, and ran on till her feet would no longer bear her, and +her breath failed. Then, looking back, and seeing that she was not +followed, she seated herself, breathless, and feeling sick, in the +hedge, where a glow-worm was shining, with a calm, steady light, very +different from the flicker of the stars above. + +As she there sat, she was conscious of something warm on her neck, and +putting her hand up, felt that it was moist. She held her fingers to +the faint glow of the worm in the grass; there was a dark stain on her +hand, and she was sure that it was blood. + +She felt her head swim, and knew that in another moment she would lose +consciousness, unless she made an effort to resist. Hastily she bound +a white handkerchief about her head where wounded by the stone, to +stay the flow, and walked resolutely forward. + +There was now a shadow stealing up the sky to the south, and obscuring +the stars, a shadow behind which danced and wavered the electrical +light, but Judith heard no thunder, she had not the leisure to listen +for it; all her anxiety was to reach Wadebridge. But the air, the +oppressively sultry air, was charged with sound, the mutter and growl +of the Atlantic. The ocean, never at rest, ever gives forth a voice, +but the volume of its tone varies. Now it was loud and threatening, +loud and threatening as it had been on that afternoon when Judith sat +with her father in the rectory garden, tossing guelder-roses. Then, +the air had been still, but burdened with the menace of the sea. So it +was now at midnight; the ocean felt the influence of the distant storm +that was playing far away to the south. + +Judith could not run now. Her feet were too sore, her strength had +given way. Resolute though her will might be, it could not inspire +with masculine strength the fragile little body, recently recovered +from sickness. But it carried her into the suburbs of Wadebridge, and +in the starlight she reached the house of Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray, and +stood before it, looking up at it despairingly. It was not drab in +color now, it was lampblack against a sky that flashed in the +russet-light. The kerchief she had tied about her head had become +loose. Still looking at the ugly, gloomy house, she put up her arms +and rebound it, knotting the ends more tightly, using care not to +cover her ears, as she was intent to hear the least sound, that +issued from the asylum. But for some time she could hear nothing save +the rush of her blood in her ears, foaming, hissing, like the tide +entering a bay over reefs. With this was mingled the mutter of the +Atlantic, beyond the hills--and now--yes, certainly now--the rumble of +remote thunder. + +Judith had stood on the opposite side of the street looking up at +Scantlebray's establishment; she saw no light anywhere. Now she drew +near and crept along the walls. There was a long wing, with its back +to the street, without a window in the wall, and she thought it +probable that the inmates of the asylum were accommodated therein, a +dormitory up-stairs, play or school-rooms below. There Jamie must be. +The only windows to this wing opened into the garden; and consequently +Judith stole along the garden wall, turned the angle, down a little +lane, and stood listening. The wall was high, and the summit encrusted +with broken glass. She could see the glass prongs by the flicker of +the lightning. She could not possibly see over the wall; the lane was +too narrow for her to go back far, and the wall on the further side +too high to climb. Not a sound from within reached her ears. + +In the still night she stood holding her breath. + +Then a scream startled her. + +It was the cry of a gull flying inland. + +If a gull's cry could be heard, then surely that of her brother, were +he awake and unhappy, and wanting her. + +She went further down the wall, and came on a small garden gate in it, +fastened, locked from within. It had a stone step. On that she sank, +and laid her head in her hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +FOUND. + + +Strange mystery of human sympathy! inexplicable, yet very real. +Irrational, yet very potent. The young mother has accepted an +invitation to a garden-party. She knows that she never looked better +than at present, with a shade of delicacy about her. She has got a new +bonnet that is particularly becoming, and which she desires to wear in +public. She has been secluded from society for several months, and she +longs to meet her friends again. She knows that she is interesting, +and believes herself to be more interesting than she really is. So she +goes. She is talking, laughing, a little flushed with pleasure, when +suddenly she becomes grave, the hand that holds the plate of +raspberries and cream trembles. All her pleasure is gone. She knows +that baby is crying. Her eye wanders in quest of her husband, she runs +to him, touches his arm, says-- + +"Do order the carriage; baby is crying." + +It is all fiddle-de-dee. Baby has the best of nurses, the snuggest, +daintiest little cot; has a fresh-opened tin of condensed Swiss milk. +Reason tells her that; but no! and nurse cannot do anything to pacify +the child, baby is crying, nurse is in despair. + +In like manner now did Judith argue with herself, without being able +to convince her heart. Her reason spoke and said to her-- + +No sound of cries comes from the asylum. There is no light in any +window. Every inmate is asleep, Jamie among them. He does not need you. +He is travelling in dreamland. The Scantlebrays have been kind to him. +The lady is a good, motherly body; the gentleman's whole soul is +devoted to finding amusement and entertainment for the afflicted +creatures under his care. He has played tricks before Jamie, made +shadow-pictures on the wall, told funny stories, made jacks-in-the-box +with his hands, and Jamie has laughed till he was tired, and his heavy +eyes closed with a laugh not fully laughed out on his lips. The +Scantlebrays are paid £70 for taking care of Jamie, and £70 in Judith's +estimation was a very princely sum. The £70 per annum Mr. Scantlebray +would corruscate into his richest fun, and Mrs. Scantlebray's heart +overflowed with warmest maternal affection. + +But it was in vain that Judith thus reasoned, her heart would not be +convinced. An indescribable unrest was in her, and would not be laid. +She knew by instinct that Jamie wanted her, was crying for her, was +stretching out his hands in the dark for her. + +As she sat on the step not only did reason speak, but judgment also. +She could do nothing there. She had acted a foolish part in coming all +that way in the dark, and without a chance of effecting any +deliverance to Jamie now she had reached her destination. She had +committed an egregious error in going such a distance from home, from +anyone who might serve as protector to her in the event of danger, and +there were other dangers she might encounter than having stones thrown +at her by drunken men. If the watch were to find her there, what +explanation of her presence could she give? Would they take her away +and lock her up for the rest of the night? They could not leave her +there. Large, warm drops, like tears from angels' eyes, fell out of +heaven upon her folded hands, and on her bowed neck. + +She began to feel chilled after having been heated by her walk, so she +rose, and found that she had become stiff. She must move about, +however sore and weary her feet might be. + +She had explored the lane as far as was needful. She could not see +from it into the house, the garden, and playground. Was it possible +that there was a lane on the further side of the house which would +give her the desired opportunity? + +Judith resolved to return by the way she had come, down the lane into +the main street, then to walk along the front of the house, and +explore the other side. As she was descending the lane she noticed, +about twenty paces from the door, on the further side, a dense mass of +Portugal laurel that hung over the opposite wall, casting a shadow of +inky blackness into the lane. This she considered might serve her as +shelter when the threatening storm broke and the rain poured down. She +walked through this shadow, and would have entered the street, but +that she perceived certain dark objects passing noiselessly along it. +By the flashes of lightning she could distinguish men with laden +asses, and one she saw turn to enter the lane where she was. She drew +back hastily into the blot cast by the bush that swung its luxuriance +over the wall, and drew as closely back to the wall as was possible. +Thus she could not be seen, for the reflection of the lightning would +not fall on her; every glare made the shadow seem the deeper. Though +concealed herself, and wholly invisible, she was able to distinguish a +man with an ass passing by, and then halting at the door in the wall +that surrounded Mr. Obadiah's tenement. There the man knocked, and +uttered a peculiar whistle. As there ensued no immediate answer he +knocked and whistled again, whereupon the door was opened; and a word +or two was passed. + +"How many do you want, sir?" + +"Four." + +"Any to help to carry the half-ankers!" + +"No." + +"Well, no odds. I'll carry one and you the t'other. We'll make two +journeys, that's all. I can't leave Neddy for long, but I'll go with +you to your house-door." + +Probably the person addressed nodded a reply in the darkness; he made +no audible answer. + +"Which is it, Mr. Obadiah, rum or brandy?" + +"Brandy." + +"Right you are, then. These are brandy. You won't take three brandies +and one rum?" + +"Yes." + +"All right, sir; lead the way. It's deuced dark." + +Judith knew what this signified. Some of the householders of +Wadebridge were taking in their supplies of spirits from the +smugglers. Owing to the inconvenience of it being unlawful to deal +with these men for such goods, they had to receive their purchases at +night, and with much secrecy. There were watchmen at Wadebridge, but +on such nights they judiciously patrolled another quarter of the town +than that which received its supplies. The watchmen were municipal +officials, and were not connected with the excise, had no particular +regard for the inland revenue, anyhow, owed no duties to the officers +of the coast-guard. Their superior was the mayor, and the mayor was +fond of buying his spirits at the cheapest market. + +Both men disappeared. The door was left open behind them. The +opportunity Judith had desired had come. Dare she seize it? For a +moment she questioned her heart, then she resolutely stepped out of +the shadow of the Portugal laurel, brushed past the patient ass, +entered the grounds of Mr. Scantlebray's establishment through the +open garden-door, and drew behind a syringa bush to consider what +further step she should take. In another moment both men were back. + +"You are sure you don't mind one rum?" + +"No." + +"Right you are, then; I'll have it for you direct. The other kegs are +at t'other end of the lane. You come with me, and we'll have 'em down +in a jiffy." + +Judith heard both men pass out of the door. She looked toward the +house. There was a light low down in a door opening into the garden or +yard where she was. + +Not a moment was to be lost. As soon as the last kegs were brought in +the house-door would be locked, and though she had entered the garden +she would be unable to penetrate to the interior of the asylum. +Without hesitation, strong in her earnest purpose to help Jamie to the +utmost of her power, and grasping at every chance that offered, she +hastened, cautiously indeed, but swiftly, to the door whence the light +proceeded. The light was but a feeble one, and cast but a fluttering +ray upon the gravel. Judith was careful to walk where it could not +fall on her dress. + +The whole garden front of the house was now before her. She was in a +sort of gravelled yard, with some bushes against the walls. The main +block of the house lay to her right, and the view of it was +intercepted by a wall. Clearly the garden space was divided, one +portion for the house, and another, that into which she had entered, +for the wing. That long wing rose before her with its windows all dark +above, and the lower or ground floor also dark. Only from the door +issued the light, and she saw that a guttering tallow candle was set +there on the floor. + +Hastily she drew back. She heard feet on the gravel. The men were +returning, Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray and the smuggler, each laden with a +small cask of spirits. + +"Right you are," said the man, as he set his keg down in the passage, +"that's yours, and I could drink your health, sir." + +"You wouldn't--prefer?--" Mr. Scantlebray made contortions with his +hands between the candle and the wall, and threw a shadow on the +surface of plaster. + +"No, thanks sir, I'd prefer a shilling." + +Mr. Scantlebray fumbled in his pockets, grunted "Humph! purse +up-stairs." Felt again, "No," groped inside the breast of his +waistcoat, "another time--not forget." + +The man muttered something not complimentary, and turned to go through +the yard. + +"Must lock door," said Mr. Obadiah, and went after him. Now was +Judith's last chance. She took it at once; the moment the backs of the +two men were turned she darted into the passage and stood back against +the door out of the flare of the candle. + +The passage was a sort of hall with slated floor, the walls plastered +and whitewashed at one time, but the wash and plaster had been picked +off to about five feet from the floor wherever not strongly adhesive, +giving a diseased and sore look to the wall. The slates of the floor +were dirty and broken. + +Judith looked along the hall for a place to which she could retreat on +the return of the proprietor of the establishment. She had entered +that portion of the building tenanted by the unhappy patients. The +meanness of the passage, the picked walls, the situation on one side +of the comfortable residence showed her this. A door there was on the +right, ajar, that led into the private dwelling-house, but into that +Judith did not care to enter. One further down on the left probably +gave access to some apartment devoted to the "pupils," as Mrs. +Scantlebray called the patients. + +There was, however, another door that was open, and from it descended +a flight of brick steps to what Judith conjectured to be the cellars. +At the bottom a second candle, in a tin candlestick, was guttering and +flickering in the draught that blew in at the yard door, and descended +to this underground story. It was obvious to the girl that Mr. +Scantlebray was about to carry or roll his kegs just acquired down the +brick steps to his cellar. For that purpose he had set a candle there. +It would not therefore do for her, to attempt to avoid him, to descend +to this lower region. She must pass the door that gave access to the +cellars, a door usually locked, as she judged, for a large iron key +stood in the lock, and enter the room, the door of which opened +further down the passage. + +She was drawing her skirts together, so as to slip past the candle on +the passage floor for this purpose, when her heart stood still as +though she had received a blow on it. She heard--proceeding from +somewhere beneath down those steps--a moan, then a feeble cry of "Ju! +Where are you? Ju! Ju! Ju!" + +She all but did cry out herself. A gasp of pain and horror did escape +her, and then, without a thought of how she could conceal herself, how +avoid Scantlebray, she ran down the steps to the cellar. + +On reaching the bottom she found that there were four doors, two of +which had square holes cut in them, but with iron bars before these +openings. The door of one of the others, one on the left, was open, +and she could see casks and bottles. It was a wine and spirit cellar, +and the smell of wine issued from it. + +She stood panting, frightened, fearing what she might discover, +doubting whether she had heard her brother's voice or whether she was +a prey to fancy. Then again she heard a cry and a moan. It issued from +the nearest cell on her right hand. + +"Jamie! my Jamie!" she cried. + +"Ju! Ju!" + +The door was hasped, with a crook let into a staple so that it might, +if necessary, be padlocked. But now it was simply shut and a wooden +peg was thrust through the eye of the crook. + +She caught up the candle, and with trembling hand endeavored to +unfasten the door, but so agitated was she, so blinded with horror, +that she could not do so till she had put down the candle again. Then +she forced the peg from its place and raised the crook. She stooped +and took up the candle once more, and then, with a short breath and a +contraction of the breast, threw open the door, stepped in, and held +up the light. + +The candle flame irradiated what was but a cellar compartment vaulted +with brick, once whitewashed, now dirty with cobwebs and accumulated +dust and damp stains. It had a stone shelf on one side, on which lay a +broken plate and some scraps of food. + +Against the further wall was a low truckle bed, with a mattress on it +and some rags of blanket. Huddled on this lay Jamie, his eyes dilated +with terror, and yet red with weeping. His clothes had been removed, +except his shirt. His long red-gold hair had lost all its gloss and +beauty, it was wet with sweat and knotted. The boy's face was ghastly +in the flickering light. + +Judith dropped the candle on the floor, and rushed with outstretched +arms, and a cry--piercing, but beaten back on her by the walls and +vault of the cell--and caught the frightened boy to her heart. + +"Jamie! O my Jamie! my Jamie!" + +She swayed herself, crying, in the bed, holding him to her, with no +thought, her whole being absorbed in a spasm of intensest, most +harrowing pain. The tallow candle was on the slate floor, fallen, +melting, spluttering, flaming. + +And in the door, holding the brandy keg upon his shoulders, stood, +with open eyes and mouth, Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +AN UNWILLING PRISONER. + + +Mr. Obadiah stood open-mouthed staring at the twins clasped in each +other's arms, unable at first to understand what he saw. Then a +suspicion entered his dull brain, he uttered a growl, put down the +keg, his heavy brows contracted, he shut his mouth, drawing in his +lips so that they disappeared, and he clenched his hands. + +"Wait--I'll beat you!" he said. + +The upset candle was on the floor, now half molten, with a pond of +tallow burning with a lambent blue flicker trembling on extinction, +then shooting up in a yellow flame. + +In that uncertain, changeful, upward light the face of the man looked +threatening, remorseless, so that Judith, in a paroxysm of fear for +her brother and herself dropped, on her knee, and caught at the tin +candlestick as the only weapon of defence accessible. It was hot and +burnt her fingers, but she did not let go; and as she stood up the +dissolved candle fell from it among some straw that littered the +pavement. This at once kindled and blazed up into golden flame. + +For a moment the cell was full of light. Mr. Obadiah at once saw the +danger. His casks of brandy were hard by--the fume of alcohol was in +the air--if the fire spread and caught his stores a volume of flame +would sweep up the cellar stair and set his house on fire. He hastily +sprang in, and danced about the cell stamping furiously at the ignited +wisps. Judith, who saw him rush forward, thought he was about to +strike her and Jamie, and raised the tin candlestick in self-defence; +but when she saw him engaged in trampling out the fire, tearing at the +bed to drag away the blankets with which to smother the embers, she +drew Jamie aside from his reach, sidled, with him clinging to her, +along the wall, and by a sudden spring reached the passage, slammed +the door, fastened the hasp, and had the gaoler secured in his own +gaol. + +For a moment Mr. Scantlebray was unaware that he was a prisoner, so +busily engaged was he in trampling out the fire, but the moment he did +realize the fact he slung himself with all his force against the door. + +Judith looked round her. There was now no light in the cellar but the +feeble glimmer that descended the stair from the candle above. The +flame of that was now burning steadily, for the door opening into the +yard was shut, and the draught excluded. + +In dragging Jamie along with her, Judith had drawn forth a scanty +blanket that was about his shoulders. She wrapped it round the boy. + +"Let me out!" roared Scantlebray. "Don't understand. Fun--rollicking +fun." + +Judith paid no attention to his bellow. She was concerned only to +escape with Jamie. She was well aware that her only chance was by +retaining Mr. Obadiah where he was. + +"Let me out!" again shouted the prisoner; and he threw himself +furiously against the door. But though it jarred on its hinges and +made the hasp leap, he could not break it down. Nevertheless, so big +and strong was the man that it was by no means improbable that his +repeated efforts might start a staple or snap a hinge band, and he and +the door might come together crashing down into the passage between +the cells. + +Judith drew Jamie up the steps, and on reaching the top shut the +cellar door. Below, Mr. Scantlebray roared, swore, shouted, and beat +against the door; but now his voice, and the sound of his blows were +muffled, and would almost certainly be inaudible in the +dwelling-house. No wonder that Judith had not heard the cries of her +brother. It had never occurred to her that the hapless victim of the +keeper of the asylum might be chastised, imprisoned, variously +maltreated in regions underground, whence no sounds of distress might +reach the street, and apprise the passers-by that all was not laughter +within. Standing in the passage or hall above, Judith said: + +"Oh, Jamie! where are your clothes?" + +The boy looked into her face with a vacant and distressed expression. +He could not answer, he did not even understand her question, so +stupefied was he by his terrors, and the treatment he had undergone. + +Judith took the candle from the floor and searched the hall. Nothing +was there save Mr. Scantlebray's coat, which he had removed and cast +across one of the kegs when he prepared to convey them down to his +cellar. Should she take that? She shook her head at the thought. She +would not have it said that she had taken anything out of the house, +except only--as that was an extreme necessity, the blanket wrapped +about Jamie. She looked into the room that opened beyond the cellar +door. It was a great bare apartment, containing only a table and some +forms. + +"Jamie!" she said, "we must get away from this place as we are. There +is no help for it. Do you not know where your clothes were put?" + +He shook his head. He clung to her with both arms, as though afraid, +if he held by but one that she would slip away and vanish, as one +drowning, clinging to the only support that sustained him from +sinking. + +"Come, Jamie! It cannot be otherwise!" She set down the candle, opened +the door into the yard, and issued forth into the night along with the +boy. The clouds had broken, and poured down their deluge of warm +thunder rain. In the dark Judith was unable to find her direction at +once, she reached the boundary wall where was no door. + +Jamie uttered a cry of pain. + +"What is it, dear?" + +"The stones cut my feet." + +She felt along the wall with one hand till she touched the jamb, then +pressed against the door itself. It was shut. She groped for the lock. +No key was in it. She could as little escape from that enclosure as +she could enter into it from without. The door was very solid, and the +lock big and secure. What was to be done? Judith considered for a +moment, standing in the pouring rain through which the lightning +flashed obscurely, illumining nothing. It seemed to her that there was +but one course open to her, to return and obtain the key from Mr. +Obadiah Scantlebray. But it would be no easy matter to induce him to +surrender it. + +"Jamie! will you remain at the door? Here under the wall is some +shelter. I must go back." + +But the boy was frightened at the prospect of being deserted. + +"Then--Jamie, will you come back with me to the house?" + +No, he would not do that. + +"I must go for the key, dearest," she said, coaxingly. "I cannot open +the door, so that we can escape, unless I have the key. Will you do +something for Ju? Sit here, on the steps, where you are somewhat +screened from the rain, and sing to me something, one of our old +songs--A jolly hawk and his wings were gray? sing that, that I may +hear your voice and find my way back to you. Oh--and here, Jamie, your +feet are just the size of mine, and so you shall pull on my shoes. +Then you will be able to run alongside of me and not hurt your soles." + +With a little persuasion she induced him to do as she asked. She took +off her own shoes and gave them to him, then went across the yard to +where was the house, she discovered the door by a little streak of +light below it and the well trampled and worn threshold stone. She +opened the door, took up the candle and again descended the steps to +the cellar floor. On reaching the bottom, she held up the light and +saw that the door was still sound; at the square barred opening was +the red face of Mr. Scantlebray. + +"Let me out," he roared. + +"Give me the key of the garden door." + +"Will you let me out if I do?" + +"No; but this I promise, as soon as I have escaped from your premises +I will knock and ring at your front door till I have roused the house, +and then you will be found and released. By that time we shall have +got well away." + +"I will not give you the key." + +"Then here you remain," said Judith, and began to reascend the steps. +It had occurred to her, suddenly, that very possibly the key she +desired was in the pocket of the coat Mr. Scantlebray had cast off +before descending to the cellar. She would hold no further +communication with him till she had ascertained this. He yelled after +her "Let me out, and you shall have the key." But she paid no +attention to his promise. On reaching the top of the stairs, she again +shut the door, and took up his coat. She searched the pockets. No key +was within. + +She must go to him once more. + +He began to shout as he saw the flicker of the candle approach. "Here +is the key, take it, and do as you said." His hand, a great coarse +hand, was thrust through the opening in the door, and in it was the +key she required. + +"Very well," said she, "I will do as I undertook." + +She put her hand, the right hand, up to receive the key. In her left +was the candlestick. Suddenly he let go the key that clinked down on +the floor outside, and made a clutch at her hand and caught her by the +wrist. She grasped the bar in the little window, or he would have +drawn her hand in, dragged her by the arm up against the door, and +broken it. He now held her wrist and with his strong hand strove to +wrench her fingers from their clutch. + +"Unhasp the door!" he howled at her. + +She did not answer other than with a cry of pain, as he worked with +his hand at her wrist, and verily it seemed as though the fragile +bones must snap under his drag. + +"Unhasp the door!" he roared again. + +With his great fingers and thick nails he began to thrust at and +ploughed her knuckles; he had her by the wrist with one hand, and he +was striving to loosen her hold of the bar with the other. + +"Unhasp the door!" he yelled a third time, "or I'll break every bone +in your fingers!" and he brought his fist down on the side of the door +to show how he would pound them by a blow. If he did not do this at +once it was because he dreaded by too heavy a blow to strike the bar +and wound himself while crushing her hand. + +She could not hold the iron stanchion for more than another +instant--and then he would drag her arm in, as a lion in its cage when +it had laid hold of the incautious visitor, tears him to itself +through the bars. + +Then she brought the candle-flame up against his hand that grasped her +wrist, and it played round it. He uttered a scream of pain, and let go +for a moment. But that moment sufficed. She was free. The key was on +the floor. She stooped to pick it up; but her fingers were as though +paralyzed, she was forced to take it with the left hand and leave the +candle on the floor. Then, holding the key she ran up the steps, ran +out into the yard, and heard her brother wailing, "Ju! I want you! +Where are you, Ju?" + +Guided by his cries she reached the door. The key she put into the +lock, and with a little effort turned it. The door opened, she and +Jamie were free. + +The door shut behind them. They were in the dark lane, under a pouring +rain. But Judith thought nothing of the darkness, nothing of the rain. +She threw her arms round her brother, put her wet cheek against his, +and burst into tears. + +"My Jamie! O my Jamie!" + +But the deliverance of her brother was not complete; she must bring +him back to Polzeath. She could allow herself but a moment for the +relief of her heart, and then she caught him to her side, and pushed +on with him along the lane till they entered the street. Here she +stood for a moment in uncertainty. Was she bound to fulfil her +engagement to Mr. Obadiah? She had obtained the key, but he had +behaved to her with treachery. He had not intended the key to be other +than a bait to draw her within his clutch, that he might torture her +into opening the door of his cell. Nevertheless, she had the key, and +Judith was too honorable to take advantage of him. + +With Jamie still clinging to her she went up the pair of steps to the +front door, rang the night-bell, and knocked long and loud. Then, all +at once her strength that had lasted gave way, and she sank on the +doorsteps, without indeed losing consciousness, but losing in an +instant all power of doing or thinking, of striving any more for Jamie +or for herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +A RESCUE. + + +A window overhead was thrown open, and a voice that Judith recognized +as that of Mrs. Obadiah Scantlebray, called: "Who is there?--what is +wanted?" + +The girl could not answer. The power to speak was gone from her. It +was as though all her faculties, exerted to the full, had at once +given way. She could not rise from the steps on which she had sunk: +the will to make the effort was gone. Her head was fallen against the +jamb of the door and the knot of the kerchief was between her head and +the wood, and hurt her, but even the will to lift her hands and shift +the bandage one inch was not present. + +The mill-wheel revolves briskly, throwing the foaming water out of its +buckets, with a lively rattle, then its movement slackens, it strains, +the buckets fill and even spill, but the wheel seems to be reduced to +statuariness. That stress point is but for a moment, then the weight +of the water overbalances the strain, and whirr! round plunges the +wheel, and the bright foaming water is whisked about, and the buckets +disgorge their contents. + +It is the same with the wheel of human life. It has its periods of +rapid and glad revolutions, and also its moments of supreme tension, +when it is all but overstrung--when its movement is hardly +perceptible. The strain put on Judith's faculties had been excessive, +and now those faculties failed her, failed her absolutely. The +prostration might not last long--it might last forever. It is so +sometimes when there has been overexertion; thought stops, will ceases +to act, sensation dies into numbness, the heart beats slow, slower, +then perhaps stops finally. + +It was not quite come to that with Judith. She knew that she had +rushed into danger again, the very danger from which she had just +escaped, she knew it, but she was incapable of acting on the +knowledge. + +"Who is below?" was again called from an upper window. + +Judith, with open eyes, heard that the rain was still falling heavily, +heard the shoot of water from the roof plash down into the runnel of +the street, felt the heavy drops come down on her from the architrave +over the door, and she saw something in the roadway: shadows stealing +along the same as she had seen before, but passing in a reversed +direction. These were again men and beasts, but their feet and hoofs +were no longer inaudible, they trod in the puddles and splashed and +squelched the water and mud about, at each step. The smugglers had +delivered the supplies agreed on, at the houses of those who dealt +with them, and were now returning, the asses no longer laden. + +And Judith heard the door behind her unbarred and unchained and +unlocked. Then it was opened, and a ray of light was cast into the +street, turning falling rain-drops into drops of liquid gold, and +revealing, ghostly, a passing ass and its driver. + +"Who is there? _Is_ anyone there?" + +Then the blaze of light was turned on Judith, and her eyes shut with a +spasm of pain. + +In the doorway stood Mrs. Scantlebray half-garmented, that is to say +with a gown on, the folds of which fell in very straight lines from +the waist to her feet, and with a night-cap on her head, and her curls +in papers. She held a lamp in her hand, and this was now directed upon +the girl, lying, or half-sitting in the doorway, her bandaged head +leaning against the jamb, one hand in her lap, the fingers open, the +other falling at her side, hanging down the steps, the fingers in the +running current of the gutter, in which also was one shoeless foot. + +"Why--goodness! mercy on us!" exclaimed Mrs. Scantlebray, +inconsiderately thrusting the lamp close into the girl's face. "It can +never be--yet--surely it is----" + +"Judith!" exclaimed a deep voice, the sound of which sent a sudden +flutter through the girl's nerves and pulses. "Judith!" and from out +the darkness and falling rain plunged a man in full mantle wrapped +about him and overhanging broad-brimmed hat. Without a word of excuse +he snatched the light from Mrs. Scantlebray and raised it above +Judith's head. + +"Merciful powers!" he cried, "what is the meaning of this! What has +happened? There is blood here--blood! Judith--speak. For heaven's +sake, speak!" + +The light fell on his face, his glittering eyes--and she slightly +turned her head and looked at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but +could form no words, but the appeal in those dim eyes went to his +heart, he thrust the lamp roughly back into Mrs. Scantlebray's hand, +knelt on the steps, passed an arm under the girl, the other about her +waist, lifted and carried her without a word inside the house. There +was a leather-covered ottoman in the hall, and he laid her on that, +hastily throwing off his cloak, folding it, and placing it as a pillow +beneath her head. + +Then, on one knee at her side, he drew a flask from his breast pocket, +and poured some drops of spirit down her throat. The strength of the +brandy made her catch her breath, and brought a flash of red to her +cheek. It had served its purpose, helped the wheel of life to turn +beyond the stress point at which it threatened to stay wholly. She +moved her head, and looked eagerly about her for Jamie. He was not +there. She drew a long breath, a sigh of relief. + +"Are you better?" he asked, stooping over her, and she could read the +intensity of his anxiety in his face. + +She tried to smile a reply, but the muscles of her lips were too stiff +for more than a flutter. + +"Run!" ordered Captain Coppinger, standing up, "you woman, are you a +fool? Where is your husband? He is a doctor, fetch him. The girl might +die." + +"He--Captain--he is engaged, I believe, taking in his stores." + +"Fetch him! Leave the lamp here." + +Mrs. Scantlebray groped about for a candle, and having found one, +proceeded to light it. + +"I'm really shocked to appear before you, Captain, in this state of +undress." + +"Fetch your husband!" said Coppinger, impatiently. + +Then she withdrew. + +The draught of spirits had acted on Judith and revived her. Her breath +came more evenly, her heart beat regularly, and the blood began to +circulate again. As her bodily powers returned, her mind began to work +once more, and again anxiously she looked about her. + +"What is it you want?" asked Captain Cruel. + +"Where is Jamie?" + +He muttered a low oath. Always Jamie. She could think of no one but +that silly boy. + +Then suddenly she recalled her position--in Scantlebray's house, and +the wife was on the way to the cellars, would find him, release +him--and though she knew that Coppinger would not suffer Obadiah to +injure her, she feared, in her present weakness, a violent scene. She +sat up, dropped her feet on the floor, and stretched both her hands to +the smuggler. + +"Oh, take me! take me from here." + +"No, Judith," he answered. "You must have the doctor to see you--after +that----" + +"No! no! take me before he comes. He will kill me." + +Coppinger laughed. He would like to see the man who would dare to lay +a finger on Judith while he stood by. + +Now they heard a noise from the wings of the house at the side that +communicated with the dwelling by a door that Mrs. Scantlebray had +left ajar. There were exclamations, oaths, a loud, angry voice, and +the shrill tones of the woman mingled with the bass notes of her +husband. The color that had risen to the girl's cheeks left them; she +put her hands on Coppinger's breast and looking him entreatingly in +the eyes, said: + +"I pray you! I pray you!" + +He snatched her up in his arms, drew her close to him, went to the +door, cast it open with his foot, and bore her out into the rain. +There stood his mare, Black Bess, with a lad holding her. + +"Judith, can you ride?" + +He lifted her into the saddle. + +"Boy," said he, "lead on gently; I will stay her lest she fall." + +Then they moved away, and saw through the sheet of falling rain the +lighted door, and Scantlebray in it, in his shirt sleeves shaking his +fists, and his wife behind him, endeavoring to draw him back by the +buckle and strap of his waistcoat. + +"Oh, where is Jamie? I wonder where Jamie is?" said Judith, looking +round her in the dark, but could see no sign of her brother. + +There were straggling houses for half a mile--a little gap of garden +or paddock, then a cottage, then a cluster of trees, and an alehouse, +then hedges and no more houses. A cooler wind was blowing, dispelling +the close, warm atmosphere, and the rain fell less heavily. There was +a faint light among the clouds like a watering of satin. It showed +that the storm was passing away. The lightning flashes were, moreover, +at longer intervals, fainter, and the thunder rumbled distantly. With +the fresher air, some strength and life came back to Judith. The wheel +though on the turn was not yet revolving rapidly. + +Coppinger walked by the horse, he had his arm up, holding Judith, for +he feared lest in her weakness she might fall, and indeed, by her +weight upon his hand, he was aware that her power to sustain herself +unassisted was not come. He looked up at her; he could hardly fail to +do so, standing, striding so close to her, her wet garments brushing +his face; but he could not see her, or saw her indistinctly. He had +thrust her little foot into the leather of his stirrup, as the strap +was too long for her to use, and he did not tarry to shorten it. + +Coppinger was much puzzled to learn how Judith had come at such an +hour to the door of Mrs. Obadiah Scantlebray, shoeless, and with +wounded head, but he asked no questions. He was aware that she was not +in a condition to answer them. + +He held her up with his right hand in the saddle, and with his left he +held her foot in the leather. Were she to fall she might drag by the +foot, and he must be on his guard against that. Pacing in the +darkness, holding her, his heart beat, and his thoughts tossed and +boiled within him. This girl so feeble, so childish, he was coming +across incessantly, thrown in her way to help her, and he was bound to +her by ties invisible, impalpable, and yet of such strength that he +could not break through them and free himself. + +He was a man of indomitable will, of iron strength, staying up this +girl, who had flickered out of unconsciousness and might slide back +into it again at any moment, and yet he felt, he knew that he was +powerless before her--that if she said to him, "Lie down that I may +trample on you," he would throw himself in the foul road without a +word to be trodden under by these shoeless feet. There was but one +command she could lay on him that he would not perform, and that was +"Let me go by myself! Never come near me!" That he could not obey. The +rugged moon revolves about the earth. Could the moon fly away into +space were the terrestrial orb to bid it cease to be a satellite? And +if it did, whither would it go? Into far off space, into outer +darkness and deathly cold, to split and shiver into fragments in the +inconceivable frost in the abyss of blackness. And Judith threw a sort +of light and heat over this fierce, undisciplined man, that trembled +in his veins and bathed his heart, and was to him a spring of beauty, +a summer of light. Could he leave her? To leave her would be to be +lost to everything that had now begun to transform his existence. The +thought came over him now, as he walked along in silence--that she +might bid him let go, and he felt that he could not obey. He must hold +her, he must hold her not _from_ him on the saddle, not as merely +staying her up, but to himself, to his heart, as his own, his own +forever. + +Suddenly an exclamation from Judith: "Jamie! Jamie!" + +Something was visible in the darkness, something whitish in the hedge. +In another moment it came bounding up. + +"Ju! oh, Ju! I ran away!" + +"You did well," she said. "Now I am happy. You are saved." + +Coppinger looked impatiently round and saw by the feeble light that +the boy had come close to him, and that he was wrapped up in a +blanket. + +"He has nothing on him," said Judith. "Oh, poor Jamie!" + +She had revived; she was almost herself again. She held herself more +firmly in the saddle and did not lean so heavily on Coppinger's hand. + +Coppinger was vexed at the appearance of the boy, Jamie; he would fain +have paced along in silence by the side of Judith. If she could not +speak it mattered not so long as he held her. But that this fool +should spring out of the darkness and join company with him and her, +and at once awake her interest and loosen her tongue, irritated him. +But as she was able to speak he would address her, and not allow her +to talk over his head with Jamie. + +"How have you been hurt?" he asked. "Why have you tied that bandage +about your head?" + +"I have been cut by a stone." + +"How came that?" + +"A drunken man threw it at me." + +"What was his name?" + +"I do not know." + +"That is well for him." Then, after a short pause, he asked further, +"And your unshod feet?" + +"Oh! I gave my shoes to Jamie." + +Coppinger turned sharply round on the boy. "Take off those shoes +instantly and give them back to your sister." + +"No--indeed, no," said Judith. "He is running and will cut his poor +feet--and I, through your kindness, am riding." + +Coppinger did not insist. He asked: "But how comes the boy to be +without clothes?" + +"Because I rescued him, as he was, from the Asylum." + +"You--! Is that why you are out at night?" + +"Yes. I knew he had been taken by the two Mr. Scantlebrays at +Wadebridge, and I could not rest. I felt sure he was miserable, and +was dying for me." + +"So--in the night you went to him?" + +"Yes." + +"But how did you get him his freedom?" + +"I found him locked in the black-hole, in the cellar." + +"And did Scantlebray look on passively while you released him?" + +"Oh, no, I let Jamie out, and locked him in, in his place." + +"You--Scantlebray in the black-hole!" + +"Yes." + +Then Coppinger laughed, laughed long and boisterously. His hand that +held Judith's foot and the stirrup leather shook with his laughter. + +"By Heaven!--You are wonderful, very wonderful. Any one who opposes +you is ill-treated, knocked down and broken, or locked into a black +hole in the dead of night." + +Judith, in spite of her exhaustion, was obliged to smile. + +"You see, I must do what I can for Jamie." + +"Always Jamie." + +"Yes, Captain Coppinger, always Jamie. He is helpless and must be +thought for. I am mother, nurse, sister to him." + +"His providence," sneered Coppinger. + +"The means under Providence of preserving him," said Judith. + +"And me--would you do aught for me?" + +"Did I not come down the cliffs for you?" asked the girl. + +"Heaven forgive me that I forgot that for one moment," he answered, +with vehemence. "Happy--happy--happiest of any in this vile world is +the man for whom you will think, and scheme and care and dare--as you +do for Jamie." + +"There is none such," said Judith. + +"No--I know that," he answered, gloomily, and strode forward with his +head down. + +Ten minutes had elapsed in silence, and Polzeath was approached. Then +suddenly Coppinger let go his hold of Judith, caught the rein of Black +Bess, and arrested her. Standing beside Judith, he said, in a peevish, +low tone: + +"I touched your hand, and said I was subject to a queen." He bent, +took her foot and kissed it. "You repulsed me as subject; you are my +mistress!--accept me as your slave." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +AN EXAMINATION. + + +Some days had elapsed. Judith had not suffered from her second night +expedition as she had from the first, but the intellectual abilities +of Jamie had deteriorated. The fright he had undergone had shaken his +nerves, and had made him more restless, timid, and helpless than +heretofore, exacting more of Judith's attention and more trying her +endurance. But she trusted these ill effects would pass away in time. +From his rambling talk she had been able to gather some particulars, +which to a degree modified her opinion relative to the behavior of Mr. +Obadiah Scantlebray. It appeared from the boy's own account that he +had been very troublesome. After he had been taken into the wing of +the establishment that was occupied by the imbeciles, his alarm and +bewilderment had grown. He had begun to cry and to clamor for his +release, or for the presence of his sister. As night came on, +paroxysms of impotent rage had alternated with fits of whining. The +appearance of his companions in confinement, some of them complete +idiots, with half-human gestures and faces, had enhanced his terrors. +He would eat no supper, and when put to bed in the common dormitory +had thrown off his clothes, torn his sheets, and refused to lie down; +had sat up and screamed at the top of his voice. Nothing that could be +done, no representations would pacify him. He prevented his fellow +inmates of the asylum from sleeping, and he made it not at all +improbable that his cries would be overheard by passers-by in the +street, or those occupying neighboring houses, and thus give rise to +unpleasant surmises, and perhaps inquiry. Finally, Scantlebray had +removed the boy to the place of punishment, the Black Hole, a +compartment of the cellars, there to keep him till his lungs were +exhausted, or his reason gained the upper hand, and Judith supposed, +with some justice, that Scantlebray had done this only, or chiefly, +because he himself would be up, and about the cellars, engaged in +housing his supplies of brandy, and that he had no intention of +locking the unhappy boy up for the entire night, in solitude, in his +cellars. He had not left him in complete darkness, for a candle had +been placed on the ground outside the Black Hole door. + +As Judith saw the matter now, it seemed to her that though Scantlebray +had acted with harshness and lack of judgment there was some +palliation for his conduct. That Jamie could be most exasperating, she +knew full well by experience. When he went into one of his fits of +temper and crying, it took many hours and much patience to pacify him. +She had spent long time and exhausted her efforts to bring him to a +subdued frame of mind on the most irrational and trifling occasions, +when he had been angered. Nothing answered with him then save infinite +forbearance and exuberant love. On this occasion there was good excuse +for Jamie's fit, he had been frightened, and frightened out of his few +wits. As Judith said to herself--had she been treated in the same +manner, spirited off, without preparation, to a strange house, +confined among afflicted beings, deprived of every familiar +companion--she would have been filled with terror, and reasonably so. +She would not have exhibited it, however, in the same manner as Jamie. + +Scantlebray had not acted with gentleness, but he had not, on the +other hand, exhibited wanton cruelty. That he was a man of coarse +nature, likely on provocation to break through the superficial veneer +of amiability, she concluded from her own experience, and she did not +doubt that those of the unfortunate inmates of the asylum who +overstrained his forbearance met with very rough handling. But that he +took a malignant pleasure in harassing and torturing them, that she +did not believe. + +On the day following the escape from the asylum, Judith sent Mr. +Menaida to Wadebridge with the blanket that had been carried off round +the shoulders of her brother, and with a request to have Jamie's +clothes surrendered. Uncle Zachie returned with the garments, they +were not refused him, and Judith and her brother settled down into the +routine of employment and amusement as before. The lad assisted Mr. +Menaida with his bird skins, talking a little more childishly than +before, and sticking less assiduously to his task; and Judith did her +needlework and occasionally played on the piano the pieces of music at +which Uncle Zachie had hammered ineffectually for many years, and she +played them to the old man's satisfaction. + +At last the girl ventured to induce Jamie to recommence his lessons. +He resisted at first, and when she did, on a rainy day, persuade him +to set to his school tasks, she was careful not to hold him to them +for more than a few minutes, and to select those lessons which made +him least impatient. + +There was a "Goldsmith's Geography," illustrated with copper-plates of +Indians attacking Captain Cook, the geysers, Esquimaux fishing, etc., +that always amused the boy. Accordingly, more geography was done +during these first days of resumption of work than history, +arithmetic, or reading. Latin had not yet been attempted, as that was +Jamie's particular aversion. However, the Eton Latin grammar was +produced, and placed on the table, to familiarize his mind with the +idea that it had to be tackled some day. + +Judith had spread the table with lesson-books, ink, slate, and +writing-copies, one morning, when she was surprised at the entry of +four gentlemen, two of whom she recognized immediately as the Brothers +Scantlebray. The other two she did not know. One was thin faced, with +red hair, a high forehead extending to the crown, with the hair drawn +over it, and well pomatumed, to keep it in place, and conceal the +baldness; the other a short man, in knee-breeches and tan-boots, with +a red face, and with breath that perfumed the whole room with spirits. + +Mr. Scantlebray, senior, came up with both hands extended. "This is +splendid! How are you? Never more charmed in my life, and ready to +impart knowledge, as the sun diffuses light. Obadiah, old man, look at +your pupil--better already for having passed through your hands. I can +see it at a glance; there's a brightness, a _Je ne sais quoi_ about +him that was not there before. Old man, I congratulate you. You have a +gift--shake hands." + +The gentlemen seated themselves without invitation. Surprise and +alarm made Judith forget her usual courtesy. She feared lest the sight +of his gaolers might excite Jamie. But it was not so. Whether, in his +confused mind, he did not associate Mr. Obadiah with his troubles on +that night of distress, or whether his attention was distracted by the +sight of so many, was doubtful, but Jamie did not seem to be +disconcerted; rather, on the contrary, he was glad of some excuse for +escape from lessons. + +"We are come," said the red-headed man, "at Miss Trevisa's desire--but +really, Mr. Scantlebray, for shame of you. Where are your manners? +Introduce me." + +"Mr. Vokins," said Scantlebray, "and the accomplished and charming +Miss Judith Trevisa, orphing." + +"And now, dear young lady," said the red-headed man, "now, positively, +it is my turn--my friend, Mr. Jukes. Jukes, man! Miss Judith Trevisa." + +Then Mr. Vokins coughed into his thin white hand, and said, "We are +come, naturally--and I am sure you wish what Miss Trevisa wishes--to +just look at your brother, and give our opinion on his health." + +"Oh, he is quite well," said Judith. + +"Ah! you think so, naturally, but we would decide for ourselves, +dearest young lady, though--not for the world would we willingly +differ from you. But, you know, there are questions on which varieties +of opinions are allowable, and yet do not disturb the most heartfelt +friendship. It is so, is it not, Jukes?" + +The rubicund man in knee-breeches nodded. + +"Shall I begin, Jukes? Why, my fine little man! What an array of +books! What scholarship! And at your age, too--astounding! What age +did you say you were?" This to Jamie in an insinuating tone. Jamie +stared, looked appealingly at Judith, and said nothing. + +"We are the same age, we are twins," said Judith. + +"Oh! it is not the right thing to appear anxious to know a lady's age. +We will put it another way, eh, Jukes?" + +The red-faced man leaned his hands on his stick, his chin on his +hands, and winked, as in that position he could not nod. + +"Now, my fine little man! When is your birthday? When you have your +cake--raisin-cake, eh?" + +Jamie looked questioningly at his sister. + +"Ah! Come, not the day of the month--but the month, eh?" + +Jamie could not answer. + +"Come now," said the red-headed levy man, stretching his legs before +him, legs vested in white trousers, strapped down tight. "Come now, my +splendid specimen of humanity! In which quarter of the year? Between +sickle and scythe, eh?" He waited, and receiving no answer, pulled out +a pocket-book and made a note, after having first wetted the end of +his pencil. "Don't know when he was born. What do you say to that, +Jukes? Will you take your turn?" + +The man with an inflamed face was gradually becoming purple, as he +leaned forward on his stick, and said, "Humph! a Latin grammar. +Propria quæ maribus. I remember it, but it was a long time ago I +learned it. Now, whipper-snapper! How do you get on? Propria quæ +maribus--Go on." He waited. Jamie looked at him in astonishment. +"Come! Tribu--" again he waited. "Come! _Tribuntur mascula dicas._ Go +on." Again a pause. Then with an impatient growl. "Ut sunt divorum, +Mars, Bacchus, Apollo. This will never do. Go on with the Scaramouch, +Vokins. I'll make my annotations." + +"He's too hard on my little chap, ain't he?" asked the thin man in +ducks. "We won't be done. We are not old enough----" + +"He is but eighteen," said Judith. + +"He is but eighteen," repeated the red-headed man. "Of course he has +not got so far as that, but musa, musæ." + +Jamie turned sulky. + +"Not musa, musæ--and eighteen years! Jukes, this is serious, Jukes; +eh, Jukes?" + +"Now look here, you fellows," said Scantlebray, senior. "You are too +exacting. It's holiday time, ain't it, Orphing? We won't be put upon, +not we. We'll sport, and frolic, and be joyful. Look here, Scanty, old +man, take the slate and draw a pictur' to my describing. Now then, +Jamie, look at him and hearken to me. He's the funniest old man that +ever was, and he'll surprise you. Are you ready, Scanty?" Mr. Obadiah +drew the slate before him, and signed with the pencil to Jamie to +observe him. The boy was quite ready to see him draw. + +"There was once upon a time," began Mr. Scantlebray, senior, "a man +that lived in a round tower. Look at him, draw it, there you are. That +is the tower. Go on. And in the tower was a round winder. Do you see +the winder, Orphing? This man every morning put his hand out of the +winder to ascertain which way the wind blew. He put it in thus, and +drew it out thus. No! don't look at me, look at the slate and then +you'll see it all. Now this man had a large pond, preserved full of +fish." Scratch, scratch went the pencil on the slate. "Them's the +fish," said Scantlebray, senior. "Now below the situation of that +pond, in two huts, lived a pair of thieves. You see them pokey things +my brother has drawn? Them's the 'uts. When night set in, these wicked +thieves came walking up to the pond, see my brother drawing their +respective courses! And on reaching the pond, they opened the sluice, +and whish! whish! out poured the water." Scratch, scratch, squeak, +squeak, went the pencil on the slate. "There now! the naughty robbers +went after fish, and got a goose! Look! a goo-oose." + +"Where's the goose?" asked Jamie. + +"Where? Before your eyes--under your nose. That brilliant brother of +mine has drawn one. Hold the slate up, Scanty." + +"That's not a goose," said Jamie. + +"Not a goose! You don't know what geese are." + +"Yes, I do," retorted the boy, resentfully, "I know the wild goose and +the tame one--which do you call that?" + +"Oh, wild goose, of course." + +"It's not one. A goose hasn't a tail like that, nor such legs," said +Jamie, contemptuously. + +Mr. Scantlebray, senior, looked at Messrs. Vokins and Jukes and shook +his head. "A bad case. Don't know a goose when he sees it--and he is +eighteen." + +Both Vokins and Jukes made an entry in their pocket-books. + +"Now Jukes," said Vokins, "will you take a turn, or shall I?" + +"Oh, you, Vokins," answered Jukes, "I haven't recovered _propria quæ +maribus_, yet." + +"Very well, my interesting young friend. Suppose now we change the +subject and try arithmetic." + +"I don't want any arithmetic," said Jamie, sulkily. + +"No--come--now we won't call it by that name; suppose some one were +to give you a shilling." + +Jamie looked up interested. + +"And suppose he were to say. There--go and buy sweeties with this +shilling. Tartlets at three for two pence, and barley-sugar at three +farthings a stick, and----" + +"I want my shilling back," said Jamie, looking straight into the face +of Mr. Scantlebray, senior. + +"And that there were burnt almonds at two pence an ounce." + +"I want my shilling," exclaimed the boy, angrily. + +"Your shilling, puff! puff!" said the red-headed man. "This is ideal, +an ideal shilling, and ideal jam-tarts, almond rock, burnt almonds or +what you like." + +"Give me back my shilling. I won it fair," persisted Jamie. + +Then Judith, distressed, interfered. "Jamie, dear! what do you mean? +You have no shilling owing to you." + +"I have! I have!" screamed the boy. "I won it fair of that man there, +because I made a rabbit, and he took it from me again." + +"Hallucinations," said Jukes. + +"Quite so," said Vokins. + +"Give me my shilling. It is a cheat!" cried Jamie, now suddenly roused +into one of his fits of passion. + +Judith caught him by the arm, and endeavored to pacify him. + +"Let go, Ju! I will have my shilling. That man took it away. He is a +cheat, a thief. Give me my shilling." + +"I am afraid he is excitable," said Vokins. + +"Like all irrational beings," answered Jukes. "I'll make a note. +Rising out of hallucinations." + +"I will have my shilling," persisted Jamie. "Give me my shilling or +I'll throw the ink at you." + +He caught up the ink-pot, and before Judith had time to interfere had +flung it across the table, intending to hit Mr. Scantlebray, senior, +but not hurt him, and the black fluid was scattered over Mr. Vokins's +white trousers. + +"Bless my life!" exclaimed this gentleman, springing to his feet, +pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away the ink, and only smearing +it the more over his "ducks" and discoloring as well, his kerchief. +"Bless my life--Jukes! a dangerous lunatic. Note at once. Clearly +comes within the act. Clearly." + +In a few minutes all had left, and Judith was endeavoring to pacify +her irritated brother. His fingers were blackened, and finally she +persuaded him to go up-stairs and wash his hands clear of the ink. + +Then she ran into the adjoining room to Mr. Menaida. "Oh, dear Mr. +Menaida!" she said, "what does this mean? Why have they been here?" + +Uncle Zachie looked grave and discomposed. + +"My dear," said he. "Those were doctors, and they have been here, sent +by your aunt, to examine into the condition of Jamie's intellect, and +to report on what they have observed. There was a little going beyond +the law, perhaps, at first. That is why they took it so easily when +you carried Jamie off. They knew you were with an old lawyer; they +knew that you or I could sue for a writ of Habeas Corpus." + +"But do you really think--that Aunt Dionysia is going to have Jamie +sent back to that man at Wadebridge?" + +"I am certain of it. That is why they came here to-day." + +"Can I not prevent it?" + +"I do not think so. If you go to law----" + +"But if they once get him, they will make an idiot or a madman of +him." + +"Then you must see your aunt and persuade her not to send him there." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +ON A PEACOCK'S FEATHER. + + +As Mr. Menaida spoke, Miss Dionysia Trevisa entered, stiff, hard, and +when her eyes fell on Judith, they contracted with an expression of +antipathy. In the eyes alone was this observable, for her face was +immovable. + +"Auntie!" exclaimed Judith, drawing her into the sitting-room, and +pressing her to take the arm chair. + +"Oh, Auntie! I have so longed to see you--there have been some +dreadful men here--doctors I think--and they have been teasing Jamie, +till they had worked him into one of his temper fits." + +"I sent them here, and for good reasons. Jamie is to go back to +Wadebridge." + +"No--indeed no! auntie! do not say that. You would not say it if you +knew all." + +"I know quite enough. More than is pleasing to me. I have heard of +your outrageous and unbecoming conduct. Hoity! toity! To think that a +Trevisa--but there you are one only in name--should go out at night, +about the streets and lanes, like a common stray. Bless me! you might +have knocked me down with a touch, when I was told of it." + +"I did nothing outrageous and unbecoming, aunt. You may be sure of +that. I am quite aware that I am a Trevisa, and a gentlewoman, and +something higher than that, aunt--a Christian. My father never let me +forget that." + +"Your conduct was--well I will give it no expletive." + +"Aunt, I did what was right. I was sure that Jamie was unhappy and +wanted me. I cannot tell you how I knew it, but I was certain of it, +and I had no peace till I went; and, as I found the garden door open, +I went in, and as I went in I found Jamie locked up in the cellars, +and I freed him. Had you found him there, you would have done the +same." + +"I have heard all about it. I want no repetition of a very scandalous +story. Against my will I am burdened with an intolerable obligation, +to look after an idiot nephew and a niece that is a self-willed and +perverse Miss." + +"Jamie is no idiot," answered Judith, firmly. + +"Jamie is what those pronounce him to be, who by their age, their +profession, and their inquiries are calculated to judge better than an +ignorant girl, not out of her teens." + +"Auntie I believe you have been misinformed. Listen to me, and I will +tell you what happened. As for those men----" + +"Those men were doctors. Perhaps they were misinformed when they went +through the College of Surgeons, were misinformed by all the medical +books they have read, were misdirected by all the study of the mental +and bodily maladies of men they have made, in their professional +course." + +"I wish, dear Aunt Dionysia, you would take Jamie to be with you a few +weeks, talk to him, play with him, go walks with him, and you will +never say that he is an idiot. He needs careful management, and also a +little application----" + +"Enough of that theme," interrupted Miss Trevisa, "I have not come +here to be drawn into an argument, or to listen to your ideas of the +condition of that unhappy, troublesome, that provoking boy. I wish to +heaven I had not the responsibility for him, that has been thrust on +me, but as I have to exercise it, and there is no one to relieve me of +it, I must do my best, though it is a great expense to me. Seventy +pounds is not seventy shillings, nor is it seventy pence." + +"Aunt, he is not to go back to the asylum. He _must not_ go." + +"Hoity-toity! _must not_ indeed. You, a minx of eighteen to dictate to +me! Must not, indeed! You seem to think that you, and not I, are +Jamie's guardian." + +"Papa entrusted him to me with his last words." + +"I know nothing about last words. In his will I am constituted his +guardian and yours, and as such I shall act as my convenience--conscience +I mean, dictates." + +"But, Aunt! Jamie is not to go back to Wadebridge. Aunt! I entreat +you! I know what that place is. I have been inside it, you have not. +And just think of Jamie on the very first night being locked up +there." + +"He richly deserved it, I will be bound." + +"Oh, Aunt! How could he? How could he?" + +"Of that Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray was the best judge. Why he had to be +punished you do not know." + +"Indeed I do. He cried because the place was strange, and he was among +strange faces. Aunt--if you were whipped off to Timbuctoo, and +suddenly found yourself among savages, and in a rush apron, as the +squaw of a black chief, or whatever they call their wives in Timbuctoo +land, would you not scream?" + +"Judith," said Miss Trevisa, bridling up. "You forget yourself." + +"No, Aunt! I am only pleading for Jamie, trying to make you feel for +him, when he was locked up in an asylum. How would you like it, Aunt, +if you were snatched away to Barthelmy fair, and suddenly found +yourself among tight-rope dancers, and Jack Puddings?" + +"Judith, I insist on you holding your tongue. I object to being +associated even in fancy, with such creatures." + +"Well--but Jamie was associated, not in fancy, but in horrible +reality, with idiots." + +"Jamie goes to Scantlebray's Asylum to-day." + +"Auntie!" + +"He is already in the hands of the brothers Scantlebray." + +"Oh, Auntie--no--no!" + +"It is no pleasure to me to have to find the money, you may well +believe. Seventy pounds is not, as I said, seventy pence, it is not +seventy farthings. But duty is duty, and however painful and +unpleasant and costly, it must be performed." + +Then from the adjoining room, "the shop," came Mr. Menaida. + +"I beg pardon for an interruption and for interference," said he. "I +happen to have overheard what has passed, as I was engaged in the next +room, and I believe that I can make a proposal which will perhaps be +acceptable to you, Miss Trevisa, and grateful to Miss Judith." + +"I am ready to listen to you," said Aunt Dionysia, haughtily. + +"It is this," said Uncle Zachie. "I understand that pecuniary matters +concerning Jamie are a little irksome. Now the boy, if he puts his +mind to it, can be useful to me. He has a remarkable aptitude for +taxidermy. I have more orders on my hands than I can attend to. I am a +gentleman, not a tradesman, and I object to be oppressed--flattened +out--with the orders piled on top of me. But if the boy will help, he +can earn sufficient to pay for his living here with me." + +"Oh, Mr. Menaida, dear Mr. Menaida! thank you so much," exclaimed +Judith. + +"Perhaps you will allow me to speak," said Miss Trevisa, with +asperity. "I am guardian, and not you, whatever you may think from +certain vague expressions breathed casually from my poor brother's +lips, and to which you have attached an importance he never gave to +them." + +"Aunt, I assure you, my dear papa----" + +"That question is closed. We will not reopen it. I am a Trevisa. I +can't for a moment imagine where you got those ideas. Not from your +father's family, I am sure. Tight-rope dancers and Timbuctoos, +indeed!" Then she turned to Mr. Menaida, and said, in her hard, +constrained voice, as though she were exercising great moral control +to prevent herself from snapping at him with her teeth. "Your proposal +is kind and well intentioned, but I cannot accept it." + +"Oh, Aunt! why not?" + +"That you shall hear. I must beg you not to interrupt me. You are so +familiar with the manners of Timbuctoo and of Barthelmy Fair, that you +forget those pertaining to England and polished society." Then, +turning to Mr. Menaida, she said: "I thank you for your +well-intentioned proposal, which, however, it is not possible for me +to close with. I must consider the boy's ulterior advantage, not the +immediate relief to my sorely-taxed purse. I have thought proper to +place Jamie with a person, a gentleman of experience, and highly +qualified to deal with those mentally afflicted. However much I may +value you, Mr. Menaida, you must excuse me for saying that firmness is +not a quality you have cultivated with assiduity. Judith, my niece, +has almost ruined the boy by humoring him. You cannot stiffen a jelly +by setting it in the sun, or in a chair before the fire, and that is +what my niece has been doing. The boy must be isinglassed into +solidity by those who know how to treat him. Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray +is the man----" + +"To manufacture idiots, madam, out of simple innocents, it is worth +his while at seventy pounds a year," said Uncle Zachie, petulantly. + +Miss Trevisa looked at him stonily, and said: "Sir! I suppose you know +best. But it strikes me that such a statement, relative to Mr. Obadiah +Scantlebray, is actionable. But you know best, being a solicitor." + +Mr. Menaida winced and drew back. + +Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, trembling with anxiety and +some anger. She thought that her aunt was acting in a heartless manner +toward Jamie, that there was no good reason for refusing the generous +offer of Uncle Zachie. In her agitation, unable to keep her fingers at +rest, the girl played with the little chimney ornaments. She must +occupy her nervous, twitching hands about something; tears of +distressed mortification were swelling in her heart, and a fire was +burning in two flames in her cheeks. What could she do to save Jamie? +What would become of the boy at the asylum? It seemed to her that he +would be driven out of his few wits, by terror and ill-treatment, and +distress at leaving her and losing his liberty to ramble about the +cliffs where he liked. In a vase on the chimney-piece was a bunch of +peacock's feathers, and in her agitation, not thinking what she was +about, desirous only of having something to pick at and play with in +her hands, to disguise the trembling of the fingers, she took out one +of the plumes and trifled with it, waving it and letting the light +undulate over its wondrous surface of gold and green and blue. + +"As long as I have responsibility for the urchin----" said Miss +Dionysia. + +"Urchin!" muttered Judith. + +"As long as I have the charge I shall do my duty according to my +lights, though they may not be those of a rush-aproned squaw in +Timbuctoo, nor of a Jack Pudding balancing a feather on his nose." +There was here a spiteful glance at Judith. "When my niece has a home +of her own--is settled into a position of security and comfort--then I +wash my hands of the responsibility; she may do what she likes +then--bring her brother to live with her if she chooses and her +husband consents--that will be naught to me." + +"And in the mean time," said Judith, holding the peacock's feather +very still before her, "in the mean time Jamie's mind is withered and +stunted--his whole life is spoiled. Now--now alone can he be given a +turn aright and toward growth." + +"That entirely depends on you," said Miss Trevisa, coldly. "You know +best what opportunities have offered----" + +"Aunt, what do you mean?" + +"Wait," said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his hands. "My boy Oliver is coming +home. He has written his situation is a good one now." + +Miss Trevisa turned on him with a face of marble. "I entirely fail to +see what your son Oliver has to do with the matter, more than the man +in the moon. May I trouble you, as you so deeply interest yourself in +our concerns, to step outside to Messrs. Scantlebray and that boy, and +ask them to bring him in here. I have told them what the circumstances +are, and they are prepared." + +Mr. Menaida left the room, not altogether unwilling to escape. + +"Now," said Aunt Dionysia, "I am relieved to find that for a minute, +we are by ourselves, not subjected to the prying and eavesdropping of +the impertinent and meddlesome. Mr. Menaida is a man who never did +good to himself or to anyone else in his life, though a man with the +best intentions under the sun. Now, Judith, I am a plain woman--that +is to say--not plain, but straightforward--and I like to have +everything above board. The case stands thus. I, in my capacity as +guardian to that boy, am resolved to consign him immediately to the +asylum, and to retain him there as long as my authority lasts, though +it will cost me a pretty sum. You do not desire that he should go +there. Well and good. There is but one way, but that is effectual, by +means of which you can free Jamie from restraint. Let me tell you he +is now in the hands of Mr. Obadiah, and gagged that he may not rouse +the neighborhood with his screams." Miss Trevisa fixed her hard eyes +on Judith. "As soon as you take the responsibility off me, and on to +yourself, you do with the boy what you like." + +"I will relieve you at once." + +"You are not in a condition to do so. As soon as I am satisfied that +your future is secure, that you will have a house to call your own, +and a certainty of subsistence for you both--then I will lay down my +charge." + +"And you mean----" + +"I mean that you must first accept Captain Coppinger, who has been +good enough to find you not intolerable. He is--in this one +particular--unreasonable, however, he is what he is, in this matter. +He makes you the offer, gives you the chance. Take it, and you provide +Jamie and yourself with a home, he has his freedom, and you can manage +or mismanage him as you list. Refuse the chance and Jamie is lodged in +Mr. Scantlebray's establishment within an hour." + +"I cannot decide this on the spur of the moment." + +"Very well. You can let Jamie go provisionally to the asylum--and stay +there till you have made up your mind." + +"No--no--no--Aunt! Never, never!" + +"As you will." Miss Trevisa shrugged her shoulders, and cast a glance +at her niece like a dagger-stab. + +"Auntie--I am but a child." + +"That may be. But there are times when even children must decide +momentous questions. A boy as a child decides on his profession, a +girl--may be--on her marriage." + +"Oh, dear Auntie! Do leave Jamie here for, say a fortnight, and in a +fortnight from to-day you shall have my answer." + +"No," answered Miss Trevisa, "I also must decide as to my future, for +your decision affects not Jamie only but me also." + +Judith had listened in great self-restraint, holding the feather +before her. She held it between thumb and forefinger of both hands, +not concerning herself about it, and yet with her eyes watching the +undulations from the end of the quill to the deep blue eye set in a +halo of gold at the further end, and the feather undulated with every +rise and fall of her bosom. + +"Surely, Auntie! You cannot wish me to marry Cruel Coppinger?" + +"I have no wishes one way or the other. Please yourself." + +"But, Auntie----" + +"You profess to be ready to do all you can for Jamie and yet hesitate +about relieving me of an irksome charge, and Jamie of what you +consider barbarous treatment." + +"You cannot be serious--_I_ to marry Captain Cruel!" + +"It is a serious offer." + +"But papa!--what would he say?" + +"I never was in a position to tell his thoughts and guess what his +words would be." + +"But, Auntie--he is such a bad man." + +"You know a great deal more about him than I do, of course." + +"But--he is a smuggler, I do know that." + +"Well--and what of that. There is no crime in that." + +"It is not an honest profession. They say, too, that he is a wrecker." + +"They say!--who say? What do you know?" + +"Nothing, but I am not likely to trust my future to a man of whom such +tales are told. Auntie! Would you, supposing that you were----" + +"I will have none of your suppositions, I never did wear a rush apron, +nor act as Jack Pudding." + +"I cannot--Captain Cruel of all men." + +"Is he so hateful to you?" + +"Hateful--no; but I cannot like him. He has been kind, but--somehow I +can't think of him as--as--as a man of our class and thoughts and +ways, as one worthy of my own, own papa. No--it is impossible, I am +still a child." + +She took the end of the peacock's feather, the splendid eye lustrous +with metallic beauty, and bowed the plume without breaking it, and, +unconscious of what she was doing, stroked her lips with it. What a +fragile fine quill that was on which hung so much beauty? and how +worthless the feather would be when that quill was broken. And so with +her--her fine, elastic, strong spirit, that when bowed sprang to its +uprightness the moment the pressure was withdrawn; that on which all +her charm, her beauty hung. + +"Captain Coppinger has, surely, never asked you to put this +alternative to me?" + +"No--I do it myself. As you are a child, you are unfit to take charge +of your brother. When you are engaged to be married you are a woman; I +shift my load on you then." + +"And you wish it?" + +"I repeat I have no wishes in the matter." + +"Give me time to consider." + +"No. It must be decided now--that is to say if you do not wish Jamie +to be taken away. Don't fancy I want to persuade you; but I want to be +satisfied about my own future. I shall not remain in Pentyre with you. +As you enter by the front door, I leave by the back." + +"Where will you go?" + +"That is my affair." + +Then in at the door came the two Scantlebrays and Jamie between them, +gagged and with his hands bound behind his back. He had run out, +directly his examination was over, and had been secured, almost +without resistance, so taken by surprise was he, and reduced to a +condition of helplessness. + +Judith leaned against the mantel-shelf, with every tinge of color gone +out of her cheeks. Jamie's frightened eyes met hers, and he made a +slight struggle to speak, and to escape to her. + +"You have a close conveyance ready for your patient?" asked Aunt +Dionysia of the brothers. + +"Oh, yes, a very snug little box on wheels. Scanty and I will sit with +our young man, to prevent his feeling dull, you know." + +"You understand, gentlemen, what I told you, that in the deciding +whether the boy is to go with you or not, I am not the only one to be +considered. If I have my will, go he shall, as I am convinced that +your establishment is the very place for him; but my niece, Miss +Judith, has at her option the chance of taking the responsibility for +the boy off my shoulders, and if she chooses to do that, why then, I +fear she will continue to spoil him, as she has done heretofore." + +"It has cost us time and money," said Scantlebray, senior. + +"And you shall be paid, whichever way is decided," said Miss Trevisa. +"Every thing now rests with my niece." + +Judith seemed as one petrified. One hand was on her bosom, staying her +heart, the other held the peacock's feather before her, horizontally. +Every particle of color had deserted, not her face only, but her hands +as well. Her eyes were sunless, her lips contracted and livid. She was +motionless as a parian statue, she hardly seemed to breathe. She +perfectly understood what her aunt had laid upon her, her bodily +sensations were dead whilst a conflict of ideas raged in her brain. +She was the arbiter of Jamie's fate. She did not disguise from herself +that if consigned to the keeper of the asylum, though only for a week +or two, he would not leave his charge the same as he entered. And what +would it avail her or him to postpone the decision a week or a +fortnight. + +The brothers Scantlebray knew nothing of the question agitating her, +but they saw that the determination at which she was resolving was one +that cost her all her powers. Mr. Obadiah's heavy mind did not exert +itself to probe the secret, but the more eager intellect of his elder +brother was alert, and wondering what might be the matter that so +affected the girl, and made it so difficult for her to pronounce the +decision. The hard eyes of Miss Trevisa were fixed on her. Judith's +answer would decide her future--on it depended Othello Cottage, and an +annuity of fifty pounds. Jamie looked through a veil of tears at his +sister, and never for a moment turned them from her, from the moment +of his entry into the room. Instinctively the boy felt that his +freedom and happiness depended on her. + +One or the other must be sacrificed. That Judith saw Jamie was dull of +mind, but there were possibilities of development in it. And, even if +he remained where he was, he was happy, happy and really harmless, if +a little mischievous; an offer had been made which was likely to lead +him on into industrious ways, and to teach him application. He loved +his liberty, loved it as does the gull. In an asylum he would pine, +his mind become more enfeebled, and he would die. But then--what a +price must be paid to save him? Oh, if she could have put the question +to her father. But she had none to appeal to for advice. If she gave +to Jamie liberty and happiness, it was at the certain sacrifice of her +own. But there was no evading the decision, one or the other must go. + +She stretched forth the peacock's feather, laid the great indigo blue +eye on the bands that held Jamie, on his gagged lips, and said: "Let +him go." + +"You agree!" exclaimed Miss Trevisa. + +Judith doubled the peacock's feather and broke it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THROUGH THE TAMARISKS. + + +For some time after Judith had given her consent, and had released +Jamie from the hands of the Scantlebrays, she remained still and +white. Uncle Zachie missed the music to which he had become used, and +complained. She then seated herself at the piano, but was distraught, +played badly, and the old bird-stuffer went away grumbling to his +shop. + +Jamie was happy, delighted not to be afflicted with lessons, and +forgot past troubles in present pleasures. That the recovery of his +liberty had been bought at a heavy price, he did not know, and would +not have appreciated it had he been told the sacrifice Judith had been +ready to make for his sake. + +In the garden behind the cottage was an arbor, composed of half a boat +set up, that is to say, an old boat sawn in half, and erected so that +it served as a shelter to a seat, which was fixed into the earth on +posts. From one side of this boat a trellis had been drawn, and +covered with eschalonia, and a seat placed here as well, so that in +this rude arbor it was possible for more than one to find +accommodation. Here Judith and Jamie often sat; the back of the boat +was set against the prevailing wind from the sea, and on this coast +the air is unusually soft at the same time that it is bracing, +enjoyable wherever a little shelter is provided against its violence. +For violent it can be, and can buffet severely, yet its blows are +those of a pillow. + +Here Judith was sitting one afternoon, alone, lost in a dream, when +Uncle Zachie came into the garden with his pipe in his mouth, to +stretch his legs, after a few minutes' work at stuffing a cormorant. + +In her lap lay a stocking Judith was knitting for her brother, but she +had made few stitches, and yet had been an hour in the summer-house. +The garden of Mr. Menaida was hedged off from a neighbor's grounds by +a low wall of stone and clay and sand, in and out of which grew +roughly strong tamarisks now in their full pale pink blossom. The eyes +of Judith had been on these tamarisks, waving like plumes in the +sea-air, when she was startled from her reverie by the voice of Uncle +Zachie. + +"Why, Miss Judith! What is the matter with you? Dull, eh? Ah--wait a +bit, when Oliver comes home we shall have mirth. He is full of +merriment. A bright boy and a good son; altogether a fellow to be +proud of, though I say it. He will return at the fall." + +"I am glad to hear it, Mr. Menaida. You have not seen him for many +years." + +"Not for ten." + +"It will be a veritable feast to you. Does he remain long in England?" + +"I cannot say. If his employers find work for him at home, then at +home he will tarry, but if they consider themselves best served by him +at Oporto, then to Portugal must he return." + +"Will you honor me by taking a seat near me--under the trellis?" asked +Judith. "It will indeed be a pleasure to me to have a talk with you; +and I do need it very sore. My heart is so full that I feel I must +spill some of it before a friend." + +"Then indeed I will hold out both hands to catch the sweetness." + +"Nay--it is bitter, not sweet, bitter as gall, and briny as the +ocean." + +"Not possible; a little salt gives savor." + +She shook her head, took up the stocking, did a couple of stitches, +and put it down again. The sea-breeze that tossed the pink bunches of +tamarisk waved stray tresses of her red-gold hair, but somehow the +brilliancy, the burnish, seemed gone from it. Her eyes were sunken, +and there was a greenish tinge about the ivory white surrounding her +mouth. + +"I cannot work, dear Mr. Menaida; I am so sorry that I should have +played badly that sonata last night. I knew it fretted you, but I +could not help myself, my mind is so selfishly directed that I cannot +attend to anything even of Beethoven's in music, nor to +stocking-knitting even for Jamie." + +"And what are the bitter--briny thoughts?" + +Judith did not answer at once, she looked down into her lap, and Mr. +Menaida, whose pipe was choked, went to the tamarisks and plucked a +little piece, stripped off the flower and proceeded to clear the tube +with it. + +Presently, while Uncle Zachie's eyes were engaged on the pipe, Judith +looked up, and said hastily, "I am very young, Mr. Menaida." + +"A fault in process of rectification every day," said he, blowing +through the stem of his pipe. "I think it is clear now." + +"I mean--young to be married." + +"To be married! Zounds!" He turned his eyes on her in surprise, +holding the tamarisk spill in one hand and the pipe in the other, +poised in the air. + +"You have not understood that I got Jamie off the other day only by +taking full charge of him upon myself and relieving my aunt." + +"But--good gracious, you are not going to marry your brother." + +"My aunt would not transfer the guardianship to me unless I were +qualified to undertake and exercise it properly, according to her +ideas, and that could be only by my becoming engaged to be married to +a man of substance." + +"Goodness help me! what a startlement! And who is the happy man to be? +Not Scantlebray, senior, I trust, whose wife is dying." + +"No--Captain Coppinger." + +"Cruel Coppinger!" Uncle Zachie put down his pipe so suddenly on the +bench by him that he broke it. "Cruel Coppinger! never!" + +She said nothing to this, but rose and walked, with her head down, +along the bank, and put her hands among the waving pink bunches of +tamarisk bloom, sweeping the heads with her own delicate hand as she +passed. Then she came back to the boat arbor and reseated herself. + +"Dear me! Bless my heart! I could not have credited it," gasped Mr. +Menaida, "and I had such different plans in my head--but there, no +more about them." + +"I had to make my election whether to take him and qualify to become +Jamie's guardian, or refrain, and then he would have been snatched +away and imprisoned in that odious place again." + +"But, my dear Miss Judith--" the old man was so agitated that he did +not know what he was about; he put the stick of tamarisk into his +mouth in place of his pipe, and took it out to speak, put down his +hand, picked up the bowl of his pipe, and tapped the end of the +tamarisk spill with that; "mercy save me! What a world we do live in. +And I had been building for you a castle--not in Spain, but in a +contiguous country--who'd have thought it? And Cruel Coppinger, too! +Upon my soul I don't want to say I am sorry for it, and I can't find +in my heart to say I'm glad." + +"I do not expect that you will be glad--not if you have any love for +me." + +The old man turned round, his eyes were watering and his face +twitching. + +"I have, Heaven knows! I have--yes--I mean Miss Judith." + +"Mr. Menaida," said the girl, "you have been so kind, so considerate, +that I should like to call you what every one else does--when speaking +of you to one another--not to your face--Uncle Zachie." + +He put out his hand, it was shaking, and caught hers. He put the ends +of the fingers to his lips; but he kept his face averted, and the +water that had formed in his eyes ran down his cheeks. He did not +venture to speak. He had lost command over his voice. + +"You see, uncle, I have no one of whom to ask counsel. I have only +aunt, and she--somehow--I feel that I cannot go to her, and get from +her the advice best suited to me. Now papa is dead I am entirely +alone, and I have to decide on matters most affecting my own life, and +that of Jamie. I do so crave for a friend who could give me an +opinion--but I have no one, if you refuse." + +He pressed her hand. + +"Not that now I can go back from my word. I have passed that to Aunt +Dionysia, and draw back I may not; but somehow, as I sit and think, +and think, and try to screw myself up to the resolution that must be +reached of giving up my hand and my whole life into the power of--of +that man, I cannot attain to it. I feel like one who is condemned to +cast himself down a precipice and shrinks from it, cannot make up his +mind to spring, but draws back after every run made to the edge. Tell +me--uncle--tell me truly, what do you think about Captain Coppinger? +What do you know about him? Is he a very wicked man?" + +"You ask me what I think, and also what I know," said Mr. Menaida, +releasing her hand. "I know nothing, but I have my thoughts." + +"Then tell me what you think." + +"As I have said, I know nothing. I do not know whence he comes. Some +say he is a Dane, some that he is an Irishman. I cannot tell, I know +nothing, but I think his intonation is Irish, and I have heard that +there is a family of that name in Ireland. But this is all guesswork. +One thing I do know, he speaks French like a native. Then, as to his +character, I believe him to be a man of ungovernable temper, who, when +his blood is roused will stick at nothing. I think him a man of very +few scruples. But he has done liberal things--he is open-handed, that +all say. A hard liver, and with a rough tongue, and yet with some of +the polish of a gentleman; a man with the passions of a devil, but not +without in him some sparks of divine light. That is what I think him +to be. And if you ask me further, whether I think him a man calculated +to make you happy--I say decidedly that he is not." + +Rarely before in his life had Mr. Menaida spoken with such decision. + +"He has been kind to me," said Judith. "Very kind." + +"Because he is in love with you." + +"And gentle--" + +"Have you ever done aught to anger him!" + +"Yes. I threw him down and broke his arm and collar-bone." + +"And won his heart by so doing." + +"Uncle Zachie, he is a smuggler." + +"Yes--there is no doubt about that." + +"Do you suppose if I were to entreat him that he would abandon +smuggling? I have already had it in my heart to ask him this, but I +could not bring the request over my lips." + +"I have no doubt if you asked him to throw up his smuggling that he +would promise to do so. Whether he would keep his promise is another +matter. Many a girl has made her lover swear to give up gambling, and +on that understanding has married him; but I reckon none have been +able to keep their husbands to the engagement. Gambling, smuggling, +and poaching, my dear, are in the blood. A man brings the love of +adventure, the love of running a risk, into the world with him. If I +had been made by my wife to swear when I married never to touch a +musical instrument, I might out of love for her have sworn, but I +could not have kept my oath. And you--if you vowed to keep your +fingers from needle and thread, and saw your gown in rags, or your +husband's linen frayed--would find an irresistible itch in the finger +ends to mend and hem, and you would do it, in spite of your vows. So +with a gambler, a poacher, and a smuggler, the instinct, the passion +is in them and is irresistible. Don't impose any promise on Captain +Cruel, it will not influence him." + +"They tell me he is a wrecker." + +"What do you mean by a wrecker! We are all wreckers, after a storm, +when a merchantman has gone to pieces on the rocks, and the shore is +strewn with prizes. I have taken what I could, and I see no harm in +it. When the sea throws treasures here and there, it is a sin not to +take them up and use them and be thankful." + +"I do not mean that. I mean that he has been the means of luring ships +to their destruction." + +"Of that I know nothing. Stories circulate whenever there is a wreck +not in foul weather or with a wind on shore. But who can say whether +they be true or false?" + +"And about that man, Wyvill. Did he kill him?" + +"There also I can say nothing, because I know nothing. All that can be +said about the matter is that the Preventive man Wyvill was found at +sea--or washed ashore without his head. A shark may have done it, and +sharks have been found off our coast. I cannot tell. There is not a +shadow of evidence that could justify an indictment. All that can be +stated that makes against Coppinger is that the one is a smuggler, the +other was a Preventive man, and that the latter was found dead and +with his head off, an unusual circumstance, but not sufficient to show +that he had been decapitated by any man, nor that the man who +decapitated him was Coppinger." + +Then Mr. Menaida started up: "And--you sell yourself to this man for +Jamie?" + +"Yes, uncle, to make a man of Jamie." + +"On the chance, Judith, on the very doubtful chance of making a man +of Jamie, you rush on the certainty of making a ruin of yourself. That +man--that Coppinger to be trusted with you! A fair little vessel, +richly laden, with silken sail, and cedar sides, comes skimmering over +the sea, and--Heaven forgive me if I judge wrongly--but I think he is +a wrecker, enticing, constraining you on to the reefs where you will +break up, and all your treasures will--not fall to him--but sink; and +all that will remain of you will be a battered and broken hull, and a +draggled discolored sail. I cannot--I cannot endure the thought." + +"Yet it must be endured, faced and endured by me," said Judith. "You +are a cruel comforter, Uncle Zachie. I called you to encourage me, and +you cast me down; to lighten my load, and you heap more on." + +"I can do no other," gasped Mr. Menaida. Then he sprang back, with +open mouth, aghast. He saw Cruel Coppinger on the other side of the +hedge, he had put his hands to the tamarisk bushes, and thrust them +apart and was looking through. + +"Goldfish!" called Captain Coppinger, "Goldfish, come!" + +Judith knew the voice and looked in the direction whence it came, and +saw the large hands of Coppinger holding back the boughs of tamarisk, +his dark face in the gap. She rose at once and stepped toward him. + +"You are ill," he said, fixing his sombre eyes on her. + +"I am not ill in body. I have had much to harass my mind." + +"Yes, that Wadebridge business." + +"What has sprung out of it?" + +"Shall I come to you, or will you to me!--through the tamarisks?" + +"As you will, Captain Coppinger." + +"Come, then--up on to the hedge and jump--I will catch you in my arms. +I have held you there ere this." + +"Yes, you have taken me up, now must I throw----" She did not finish +the sentence; she meant, must she voluntarily throw herself into his +arms? + +She caught hold of the bushes and raised herself to the top of the +hedge. + +"By Heaven!" said he. "The tamarisk flowers have more color in them +than your face." + +She stood on the summit of the bank, the tamarisks rising to her +knees, waving in the wind about her. Must she resign herself to that +man of whom she knew so little, whom she feared so greatly? There was +no help for it. She must. He held out his arms. She sprang, and he +caught her. + +"I have you now," he said, with a laugh of triumph. "You have come to +me, and I will never give you up." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +AMONG THE SAND-HEAPS. + + +Coppinger held her in his arms, shook her hair out that it streamed +over his arm, and looked into her upturned face. "Indeed you are +light, lighter than when I bore you in my arms before; and you are +thin and white, and the eyes, how red. You have been crying. What! +this spirit, strong as a steel spring, so subdued that it gives way to +weeping!" + +Judith's eyes were closed against the strong light from the sky above, +and against the sight of his face bent over hers, and the fire glint +of his eyes, dark as a thundercloud and as charged with lightnings. +And now there was a flashing of fire from them, of love and pride and +admiration. The strong man trembled beneath his burden in the +vehemence of his emotion. The boiling and paining of his heart within +him, as he held the frail child in his arms, and knew she was to be +his own, his own wholly, in a short space. It was for the moment to +him as though all earth and sea and heaven were dissolved with +nebulous chaos, and the only life--the only pulses in the +universe--were in him and the little creature he held to his breast. +He looked into her face, down on her as Vesuvius must have looked down +on lovely, marble, white Pompeii, with its gilded roofs and +incense-scented temples, and restrained itself, as long as restrain +its molten heart it could, before it poured forth its fires and +consumed the pearly city lying in its arms. + +He looked at her closed eyelids with the long golden lashes resting on +the dark sunken dip beneath, at the delicate mouth drawn as with pain, +at the white temples in which slowly throbbed the blue veins, at the +profusion of red-gold hair streaming over his arm and almost touching +the ground. + +She knew that his eyes--on fire--were on her, and she dared not meet +them, for there would be a shrinking--from him, no responsive leap of +flame from hers. + +"Shall I carry you about like this!" he asked. "I could and I would, +to the world's end, and leap with you thence into the unfathomed +abyss." + +Her head, leaning back on his arm, with the gold rain falling from it, +exposed her long and delicate throat of exquisite purity of tint and +beauty of modelling, and as it lay a little tuft of pink tamarisk +blossom, brushed off in her lap into his arms, and then caught in the +light edging of her dress, at the neck. + +"And you come to me of your own will?" he said. + +Then Judith slightly turned her head to avoid his eyes, and said, "I +have come--it was unavoidable. Let me down, that we may speak +together." + +He obeyed with reluctance. Then, standing before him, she bound up and +fastened her hair. + +"Look!" said he, and threw open his collar. A ribbon was tied about +his throat. "Do you see this?" He loosed the band and held it to her. +One delicate line of gold ran along the silk, fastened to it by +threads at intervals. "Your own hair. The one left with me when you +first heard me speak of my heart's wish, and you disdained me and went +your way. You left me that one hair, and that one hair I have kept +wound round my neck ever since, and it has seemed to me that I might +still have caught my goldfish, my saucy goldfish that swam away from +my hook at first." + +Judith said calmly; "Let us walk together somewhere--to St. Enodoc, to +my father's grave, and there, over that sand-heap we will settle what +must be settled." + +"I will go with you where you will. You are my Queen, I your +subject--it is my place to obey." + +"The subject has sometimes risen and destroyed the Queen; it has been +so in France." + +"Yes, when the subject has been too hardly treated, too down-trodden, +not allowed to look on and adore the Queen." + +"And," said Judith further, "let us walk in silence, allow me the +little space between here and my father's grave to collect my +thoughts, bear with me for that short distance." + +"As you will. I am your slave, as I have told you, and you my mistress +have but to command." + +"Yes, but the slave sometimes becomes the master, and then is all the +more tyrannous because of his former servitude." + +So they walked together, yet apart, from Polzeath to St. Enodoc, +neither speaking, and it might have been a mourner's walk at a +funeral. She held her head down, and did not raise her eyes from the +ground, but he continued to gaze on her with a glow of triumph and +exultation in his face. + +They reached at length the deserted church, sunken in the sands; it +had a hole broken in the wall under the eaves in the south, rudely +barricaded, through which the sacred building might be entered for +such functions as a marriage, or the first part of the funeral office +that must be performed in a church. + +The roof was of pale gray slate, much broken, folding over the rafters +like the skins on the ribs of an old horse past work. The church-yard +was covered with plain sand. Gravestones were in process of being +buried like those whom they commemorated. Some peeped above the sand, +with a fat cherub's head peering above the surface. Others stood high +on the land side, but were banked up by sand toward the sea. Here the +church-yard surface was smooth, there it was tossed with undulations, +according as the sand had been swept over portions tenanted by the +poor who were uncommemorated with head-stones, or over those where the +well-to-do lay with their titles and virtues registered above them. + +There was as yet no monument erected over the grave of the Reverend +Peter Trevisa, sometime rector of St. Enodoc. The mound had been +turfed over and bound down with withes. The loving hands of his +daughter had planted some of the old favorite flowers from the long +walk at the rectory above where he lay, but they had not as yet taken +to the soil, the sand ill agreed with them, and the season of the year +when their translation had taken place dissatisfied them, and they +looked forlorn, drooping, and doubted whether they would make the +struggle to live. + +Below the church lay the mouths of the Camel, blue between sand-hills, +with the Doom Bar, a long and treacherous band of shifting sands in +the midst. + +On reaching the graveyard Judith signed to Captain Coppinger to seat +himself on a flat tombstone on the south side of her father's grave, +and she herself leaned against the headstone that marked her mother's +tomb. + +"I think we should come to a thorough understanding," she said, with +composure, "that you may not expect of me what I cannot give, and know +the reason why I give you anything. You call me Goldfish. Why?" + +"Because of your golden hair." + +"No--that was not what sprung the idea in your brain, it was something +I said to you, that you and I stood to each other in the relation of +bird of prey to fish, belonging to distinct modes of life and manner +of thinking, and that we could never be to one another in any other +relation than that, the falcon and his prey, the flame and its fuel, +the wreckers and the wrecked." + +Coppinger started up and became red as blood. + +"These are strange words," he said. + +"It is the same that I said before." + +"Then why have you given yourself to me?" + +"I have resigned myself to you, as I cannot help myself any more than +the fish can that is pounced on by the sea-bird, or the fuel that is +enveloped by the flame, or the ship that is boarded by the wrecker." + +She looked at him steadily; he was quivering with excitement, anger, +and disappointment. + +"It is quite right that you should know what to expect, and make no +more demands on me that I am capable of answering. You cannot ask of +me that I should become like you, and I do not entertain the foolish +thought that you could be brought to be like me--to see through my +eyes, feel with my heart. My dead father lies between us now, and he +will ever be between us--he a man of pure life, noble aspirations, a +man of books, of high principle, fearing God and loving men. What he +was he tried to make me. Imperfectly, faultily, I follow him, but +though unable to be like him, I strive after what he showed me should +be my ideal." + +"You are a child. You will be a woman, and new thoughts will come to +you." + +"Will they be good and honorable and contented thoughts? Shall I find +those in your house?" + +Coppinger did not reply, his brows were drawn together and his face +became dark. + +"Why, then, have you promised to come to me?" + +"Because of Jamie." + +He uttered an oath, and with his hands clenched the upper stone of +the tomb. + +"I have promised my aunt that I will accept you, if you will suffer my +poor brother to live where I live, and suffer me to be his protector. +He is helpless and must have someone to think and watch for him. My +aunt would have sent him to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray's asylum, and that +would have been fatal to him. To save him from that I said that I +would be yours, on the condition that my home should be his home. I +have passed my word to my aunt, and I will not go from it, but that +does not mean that I have changed my belief that we are unfitted for +each other, because we belong to different orders of being." + +"This is cold comfort." + +"It is cold as ice, but it is all that I have to give to you. I wish +to put everything plainly before you now, that there may be no +misapprehension later, and you may be asking of me what I cannot give, +and be angry at not receiving what I never promised to surrender." + +"So! I am only accepted for the sake of that boy, Jamie." + +"It is painful for me to say what I do--as painful as it must be for +you to hear it, but I cannot help myself. I wish to put all boldly and +hardly before you before an irrevocable step is taken such as might +make us both wretched. I take you for Jamie's sake. Were his +happiness, his well-being not in the scale, I would not take you. I +would remain free." + +"That is plain enough," exclaimed Coppinger, setting his teeth, and he +broke off a piece of the tombstone on which he was half sitting. + +"You will ask of me love, honor, and obedience. I will do my best to +love you--like you I do now, for you have been kind and good to me, +and I can never forget what you have done for me. But it is a long +leap from liking to loving, still I will try my best, and if I fail it +will not be for lack of effort. Honor is another matter. That lies in +your own power to give. If you behave as a good and worthy man to your +fellows, and justly toward me, of course I shall honor you. I must +honor what is deserving of honor, and where I honor there I may come +to love. I cannot love where I do not honor, so perhaps I may say that +my heart is in your hands, and that if those hands are clean and +righteous in their dealings it may become yours some time. As to +obedience--that you shall command. That I will render to you frankly +and fully in all things lawful." + +"You offer me an orange from which all the juice has been squeezed, a +nut without a kernel." + +"I offer you all I have to offer. Is it worth your while having this?" + +"Yes!" said he angrily, starting up, "I will have what I can and wring +the rest out of you, when once you are mine." + +"You never will wring anything out of me. I give what I may, but +nothing will I yield to force." + +He looked at her sullenly and said, "A child in years with an old head +and a stony heart." + +"I have always lived with my father, and so have come to think like +one that is old," said Judith, "and now, alone in the world, I must +think with ripened wits." + +"I do not want that precocious, wise soul, if that be the kernel. I +will have the shell--the glorious shell. Keep your wisdom and +righteousness and piety for yourself. I do not value them a rush. But +your love I will have." + +"I have told you there is but one way by which that may be won. But +indeed, Captain Coppinger, you have made a great mistake in thinking +of me. I am not suited to you to make you happy and content; any more +than you are suited to me. Look out for some girl more fit to be your +mate." + +"Of what sort? Come, tell me!" said Coppinger scornfully. + +"A fine, well-built girl, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with cheeks like +apricots, lively in mood, with nimble tongue, good-natured, not +bookish, not caring for brush or piano, but who can take a rough word +and return it; who will not wince at an oath, and shrink away at +coarse words flung about where she is. All these things you know very +well must be encountered by your wife, in your house. Did you ever +read 'Hamlet,' Captain Coppinger?" + +He made no answer, he was plucking at the slab-cover of the tomb and +grinding his heels into the sand. + +"In 'Hamlet,' we read of a king poisoned by his queen, who dipped the +juice of cursed hebenon into his ears, and it curdled all his blood. +It is the same with the sort of language that is found in your house +when your seamen are there. I cannot endure it, it curdles my +heart--choose a girl who is indifferent." + +"You shall not be subjected to it," said Coppinger, "and as to the +girl you have sketched--I care not for her--such as you describe are +to be found thick as whortle-berries on a moor. Do you not know that +man seeks in marriage not his counterpart but his contrast? It is +because you are in all things different from me that I love you." + +"Then will naught that I have said make you desist?" + +"Naught." + +"I have told you that I take you only so as to be able to make a home +for Jamie." + +"Yes." + +"And that I do not love you and hardly think I can ever." + +"Yes." + +"And still you will have me?" + +"Yes." + +"And that by taking me you wreck my life--spoil my happiness." + +He raised his head, then dropped it again and said, "Yes." + +She remained silent, also looking on the ground. Presently she raised +her head and said: "I gave you a chance, and you have cast it from +you. I am sorry." + +"A chance? What chance?" + +"The chance of taking a first step up the ladder in my esteem." + +"I do not understand you." + +"Therefore I am sorry." + +"What is your meaning?" + +"Captain Coppinger," said Judith, firmly, looking straight into his +dark face and flickering eyes, "I am very, very sorry. When I told you +that I accepted your offer only because I could not help myself, +because I was a poor, feeble orphan, with a great responsibility laid +on me, the charge of my unfortunate brother; that I only accepted you +for his sake when I told you that I did not love you, that our +characters, our feelings were so different that it would be misery to +me to become your wife--that it would be the ruin of my life, +then--had you been a man of generous soul, you would have said--I will +not force myself upon you, but I will do one thing for you, assist you +in protecting Jamie from the evil that menaces him. Had you said that +I would have honored you, and as I said just now, where I honor, there +I may love. But you could not think such a thought, no such generous +feeling stirred you. You held me to my bond." + +"I hold you to your bond," exclaimed Coppinger, in loud rage. "I hold +you, indeed. Even though you can neither love nor honor me, you shall +be mine. You likened me to a bird of prey that must have its prey or +die, to a fire--and that must have its fuel--to a wrecker, and he must +have his wreck, I care not. I will have you as mine, whether you love +me or not." + +"So be it, then," said Judith, sadly. "You had your opportunity and +have put it from you. We understand each other. The slave is +master--and a tyrant." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +A DANGEROUS GIFT. + + +"I do love a proper muddle, cruel bad, I do," said Jump, and had what +she loved, for the preparations for Judith's marriage threw Mr. +Menaida's trim cottage into a "proper muddle." There were the cakes to +be baked, and for a while the interior of the house was pervaded by +that most delicious aroma of baking bread superior to frangipani, +jockey club, and wood violet. Then came the dusting, and after that +the shaking and beating of the rugs and sofa and chairs. Then it was +discovered that the ceilings and walls would be the better for white +and color-wash. This entailed the turning out of every thing +previously dusted and tidied and arranged. Neither Mr. Menaida nor +Jump had any other idea of getting things into order than throwing all +into a muddle in the hopes that out of chaos, exactness and order +might spring. + +A dressmaker had been engaged and material purchased, for the +fabrication of a trousseau. This naturally interested Jamie vastly, +and Jump paid repeated visits to the dressmaker, whilst engaged on her +work. On one such occasion she neglected the kitchen and allowed some +jam to become burnt. On another she so interested the needlewoman and +diverted her attention from her work, whilst cutting out that the +latter cut out two right arms to the wedding gown. This involved a +difficulty, as it was not practicable either to turn the one sleeve, +and convert it into a left arm, nor to remove Judith's left arm and +attach it to the right side of her body, and so accommodate her to the +gown. The mercer at Camelford was communicated with, from whom the +material had been procured, but he was out of it, he however was in +daily expectation of a consignment of more of the same stuff. A +fortnight later he was able to supply the material, sufficient for a +left sleeve, but unfortunately of a different color. The gown had to +be laid aside till some one could be found of Judith's size and +figure with two right arms, and also who wanted a wedding dress, and +also would be disposed to take this particular one at half the cost of +the material, or else to let the gown stand over till after the lapse +of a century or thereabouts, when the fashion would prevail for ladies +to wear sleeves of a different substance and color from their bodies +and skirts. + +"'Taint a sort o' a courtin' as I'd give a thankee for," said Jump. +"There was Camelford goose fair, and whether he axed her to go wi' him +and pick a goose I can't tell, but I know her never went. Then o' +Sundays they don't walk one another out. And he doesn't come arter her +to the back garden, and she go to him, and no whisperings and +kissings. I've listened a score o' times a hoping and a wishing to see +and hear the likes, and never once as I'm a Christian and a female. +There were my sister Jane, when she was going to be married, her got +that hot and blazin' red that I thought it were scarletine, but it was +naught but excitement. But the young mistress, bless 'ee, her gets +whiter and colder every day, and I'd say, if such a thing were +possible, that her'd rather her never was a going to be married. But +you see that ain't in natur', leastways wi' us females. I tell 'ee I +never seed him once put his arm round her waist. If this be courtin' +among gentlefolks, all I say is preserve and deliver me from being a +lady." + +It was as Jump, in her vulgar way, put it. Judith alone in the house +appeared to take no interest in the preparations. It was only after a +struggle with her aunt that she had yielded to have the wedding in +November. She had wished it postponed till the spring, but Cruel +Coppinger and Aunt Dionysia were each for their several ends desirous +to have it in the late autumn. Coppinger had the impatience of a +lover; and Miss Trevisa the desire to be free from a menial position +and lodged in her new house before winter set in. She had amused +herself over Othello Cottage ever since Judith had yielded her +consent, and her niece saw little of her accordingly. + +It suited Coppinger's interest to have a tenant for the solitary +cottage, and that a tenant who would excite no suspicions, as the +house was employed as a store for various run goods, and it was +understood between him and Miss Trevisa, that he was still to employ +the garret for the purposes that suited him. + +Had Othello Cottage remained long unoccupied, it was almost certain to +attract the attention of the Preventive men, awake their suspicions, +and be subjected to a visit. Its position was convenient, it was on +the cliff of that cove where was the cave in which the smugglers' +boats were concealed. + +Coppinger visited Polzeath and saw Judith whenever he came to Mr. +Menaida's house, but his wooing met with no response. She endured his +attentions, shrinking from the slightest approach to familiarity, and +though studiously courteous was never affectionate. It would take a +heavy charge of self-conceit to have made the Captain blind to the +fact that she did not love him, that in truth she viewed her +approaching marriage with repugnance. Coppinger was a proud, but not a +conceited man, and her coldness and aversion aroused his anger, for it +galled his pride. Had he been a man of noble impulse, he would have +released her, as she had already told him, but he was too selfish, too +bent on carrying out his own will to think of abandoning his suit. + +Her lack of reciprocation did not abate his passion, it aggravated it. +It enlisted his self-esteem in the cause, and he would not give her +up, because he had set his mind upon obtaining her, and to confess his +defeat would have been a humiliation insufferable to his haughty +spirit. But it was not merely that he would not, it was also that he +could not. Coppinger was a man who had, all his life long, done what +he willed, till his will had become in him the mainspring of his +existence, and drove him to execute his purposes in disregard of +reason, safety, justice, and opposition. He would eat out his own +furious heart in impotent rage, if his will were encountered by +impossibility of execution. And he was of a sanguine temperament. +Hitherto every opposition had been overthrown before him, therefore he +could not conceive that the heart of a young girl, a mere child, could +stand out against him permanently. For a while it might resist, but +ultimately it must yield, and then the surrender would be absolute, +unconditional. + +Every time he came to see her, he came with hopes, almost with +confidence, that the icy barrier would dissolve, but when in her +presence the chill from it struck him, numbed his heart, silenced his +tongue, deadened his thoughts. Yet no sooner was he gone from the +house, than his pulses leaped, his brain whirled, and he was consumed +with mortified pride and disappointed love. He could not be rough, +passionate or imperious with her. A something he could not understand, +certainly not define, streamed from her that kept him at a distance +and quelled his insolence. It was to him at moments as if he hated +her; but this hate was but the splutter of frustrated love. He +recalled the words she had spoken to him, and the terms she had +employed in speaking of the relation in which they stood to each +other, the only relations to her conceivable in which they could stand +to each other, and each such word was a spark of fire, a drop of +flaming phosphorus on his heart, torturing it with pain, and +unquenchable. A word once spoken can never be recalled, and these +words had been thrown red hot at him, had sunk in and continued to +consume where they had fallen. He was but a rapacious bird and she the +prey, he the fire and she the fuel, he the wrecker and she the wreck. +There could be no reciprocity between them, the bird in the talons of +the hawk, rent by his beak could do no other than shiver and shriek +and struggle to be free. The fuel could but expect to be consumed to +ashes in the flames; and the wrecked must submit to the wrecker. He +brooded over these similes, he chafed under the conviction that there +was truth in them, he fought against the idea that a return of his +love was impossible--and then his passion raged and roared up in a +fury that was no other than hatred of the woman who could not be his +in heart. Then, in another moment, he cooled down, and trusted that +what he dreaded would not be. He saw before him the child, white as a +lily, with hair as the anthers of the lily--so small, so fragile, so +weak; and he laughed to think that one such, with no experience of +life, one who had never tasted love, could prove insensible to his +devouring passion. The white asbestos in the flame glows, and never +loses its delicacy and its whiteness. + +And Judith was, as Jump observed, becoming paler and more silent as +her marriage drew on. The repugnance with which she had viewed it +instead of abating intensified with every day. She woke in the night +with a start of horror, and a cold sweat poured from her. She clasped +her hands over her eyes and buried her face in her pillow and +trembled, so that the bed rattled. She lost all appetite. Her throat +was contracted when she touched food. She found it impossible to turn +her mind to the preparations that were being made for her wedding, she +suffered her aunt to order for her what she liked, she was indifferent +when told of the blunder made by the dressmaker in her wedding-gown. +She could not speak at meals. When Mr. Menaida began to talk, she +seemed to listen, but her mind was elsewhere. She resumed lessons with +Jamie, but was too abstracted to be able to teach effectually. A +restlessness took hold of her and impelled her to be out of doors and +alone. Any society was painful to her, she could endure only to be +alone; and when alone, she did nothing save pluck at her dress, or rub +her fingers one over the other--the tricks and convulsive movements of +one on the point of death. + +But she did not yield to her aversion without an effort to accustom +herself to the inevitable. She rehearsed to herself the good traits +she had observed in Coppinger, his kindness, his forbearance toward +herself, she took cognizance of his efforts to win her regard, to +afford her pleasure, his avoidance of everything that he thought might +displease her. And when she knew he was coming to visit her, she +strove with herself; and formed the resolution to break down the +coldness, and to show him some of that semblance of affection which he +might justly expect. But it was in vain. No sooner did she hear his +step, or the first words he uttered, no sooner did she see him, than +she turned to stone, and the power to even feign an affection she did +not possess left her. And when Coppinger had departed, there was +stamped red hot on her brain the conviction that she could not +possibly endure life with him. + +She prayed long and often, sometimes by her father's grave, always in +bed when lying wakeful, tossing from side to side in anguish of mind; +often, very often when on the cliffs looking out to sea, to the dark, +leaden, sullen sea, that had lost all the laughter and color of +summer. But prayer afforded her no consolation. The thought of +marriage to such a man, whom she could not respect, whose whole nature +was inferior to her own, was a thought of horror. She could have +nerved herself to death by the most excruciating of torments, but for +this, not all the grace of heaven could fortify her. + +To be his mate, to be capable of loving him, she must descend to his +level, and that she neither could nor would do. His prey, his fuel, +his wreck--that she must become, but she could be nothing +else--nothing else. As the day of her marriage approached her nervous +trepidation became so acute that she could hardly endure the least +noise. A strange footfall startled her and threw her into a paroxysm +of trembling. The sudden opening of a door made her heart stand still. + +When her father had died, poignant though her sorrow had been, she had +enjoyed the full powers of her mind. She had thought about the +necessary preparations for the funeral, she had given orders to the +servants, she had talked over the dear father to Jamie, she had wept +his loss till her eyes were red. Not so now; she could not turn her +thoughts from the all-absorbing terror; she could not endure an +allusion to it from anyone, least of all to speak of it to her +brother, and the power to weep was taken from her. Her eyes were dry; +they burnt, but were unfilled by tears. + +When her father was dead she could look forward, think of him in +paradise, and hope to rejoin him after having trustily executed the +charge imposed on her by him. But now she could not look ahead. A +shadow of horror lay before her, an impenetrable curtain. Her father +was covering his face, was sunk in grief in his celestial abode; he +could not help her. She could not go to him with the same open brow +and childish smile as before. She must creep to his feet, and lay her +head there, sullied by association with one against whom he had warned +her, one whom he had regarded as the man that had marred his sacred +utility, one who stood far below the stage of virtue and culture that +belonged to his family and on which he had firmly planted his child. +What was in her heart Judith could pour out before none; certainly not +before Aunt Dionysia, devoid of a particle of sympathy with her niece. +Nor could she speak her trouble to Uncle Zachie, a man void of +resources, kind, able for a minute or two to sympathize, but never to +go deeply into any trouble and understand more of a wound than the +fester on the surface. Besides, of what avail to communicate the +anguish of her heart to anyone, when nothing could be done to alter +the circumstances. She could not now draw back. Indeed it never +occurred to her to be possible to go back from her undertaking. To +save Jamie from an idiot asylum she had passed her word to give her +hand at the altar to Cruel Coppinger, and her word was sacred. Aunt +Dionysia trusted her word. Coppinger held to it, knowing that she gave +it on compulsion and reluctantly, yet he showed his perfect confidence +in its security. + +"My dear Judith," said Mr. Menaida, "I am so sorry about losing you, +and what is more, losing Jamie, for I know very well that when he is +at the Glaze he will find plenty to amuse him without coming to see +me, or anyhow, coming to work with me." + +"I hope not, dear uncle." + +"Yes, I lose a promising pupil." Then turning to the boy, he said: +"Jamie, I hope you will not give up stuffing birds, or, if you have +not the patience to do that, that you will secure the skins and +prepare them for me." + +"Yes, I will," said Jamie. + +"Yes, yes, my dear boy," said Menaida, "but don't you fancy I am going +to trust you with arsenic for preparing the skins. I shall give that +to your sister and she will keep the supply, eh, will you not, +Judith?" + +"Yes. I will take charge of it." + +"And let him have it as needed; never more than is needed." + +"Why not?" asked Jamie. + +"Because it is a dangerous thing to have lying about." Menaida ran +into the workshop, and came back with a small tin box of the poison. +"Look here! here is a little bone spoon. Don't get the powder over +your fingers. Why, a spoonful would make a man very ill, and two would +kill him. So, Judith, I trust this to you. When Jamie has a skin to +prepare he will go to you, and you will let him have only so much as +he requires." + +"Yes, uncle." + +She took the little tin of arsenic and put it in her workbox, under +the tray that contained reels and needles. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +HALF A MARRIAGE. + + +One request Judith had made, relative to her marriage, and one only, +after she had given way about the time when it was to take place, and +this request concerned the place. She desired to be married, not in +the parish church of S. Minver, but in that of S. Enodoc, in the yard +of which lay her father and mother, and in which her father had +occasionally ministered. + +It was true that no great display could be made in a building +half-filled with sand, but neither Judith nor Coppinger, nor Aunt +Dionysia desired display, and Jump, the sole person who wished that +the wedding should be in full gala, was not consulted in the matter. + +November scowled over sea and land, perverting the former into lead +and blighting the latter to a dingy brown. + +The wedding-day was sad. Mist enveloped the coast, wreathed the +cliffs, drifted like smoke over the glebe, and lay upon the ocean, +dense and motionless, like a mass of cotton-wool. Not a smile of sun, +not a glimmer of sky, not a trace of outline in the haze overhead. The +air was full of minute particles of moisture flying aimlessly, lost to +all sense of gravity, in every direction. The mist had a fringe but no +seams, and looked as if it were as unrendable as felt. It trailed over +the soil, here lifting a ragged flock or tag of fog a few feet above +the earth, there dropping it again and smearing water over all it +touched. Vapor condensed on every twig and leaf, but only leisurely, +and slowly dripped from the ends of thorns and leaves; but the weight +of the water on some of the frosted and sickly foliage brought the +leaves down with it. Every stone in every wall was lined with trickles +of water like snail crawls. The vapor penetrated within doors, and +made all articles damp, of whatever sort they were. Fires were +reluctant to kindle, chimneys smoked. The grates and irons broke out +into eruptions of rust, mildew appeared on walls, leaks in roofs. The +slate floors became dark and moist. Forks and spoons adhered to the +hands of those who touched them, and on the keys of Mr. Menaida's +piano drops formed. + +What smoke did escape from a chimney trailed down the roof. Decomposed +leaves exhaled the scent of decay. From every stack-yard came a musty +odor of wet straw and hay. Stable yards emitted their most fetid +exudations that oozed through the gates and stained the roads. The +cabbages in the kail-yards touched by frost announced that they were +in decomposition, and the turnips that they were in rampant +degeneration and rottenness. The very seaweed washed ashore +impregnated the mist with a flavor of degeneration. + +The new rector, the Reverend Desiderius Mules had been in residence at +St. Enodoc for three months. He had received but a hundred and +twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence farthing for dilapidations, and +was angry, declared himself cheated, and vowed he would never employ +the agent Cargreen any more. And a hundred and twenty-seven pounds +four and ninepence farthing went a very little way in repairing and +altering the rectory to make it habitable to the liking of the +Reverend Desiderius. The Reverend Peter Trevisa and his predecessors +had been West Country men, and as such loved the sun, and chose to +have the best rooms of the house with a southern aspect. But the +Reverend Desiderius Mules had been reared in Barbadoes, and hated the +sun, and elected to have the best rooms of the house to look north. +This entailed great alterations. The kitchen had to be converted into +parlor, and the parlor into kitchen, the dining-room into scullery, +and the scullery into study, and the library enlarged to serve as +dining-room. All the down-stairs windows had to be altered. Mr. +Desiderius Mules liked to have French windows opening to the ground. + +In the same manner great transformations were made in the garden. +Where Mr. Peter Trevisa had built up and planted a hedge there Mr. +Desiderius Mules opened a gate, and where the late rector had laid +down a drive there the new rector made garden beds. In the same manner +shrubberies were converted into lawns, and lawns into shrubberies. +The pump was now of no service outside the drawing-room window; it had +to be removed to the other side of the house, and to serve the pump +with water a new well had to be dug, and the old well that had +furnished limpid and wholesome water was filled up. The site of the +conservatory was considered the proper one for the well, and this +entailed the destruction of the conservatory. Removal was intended, +with a new aspect to the north, as a frigidarium, but when touched it +fell to pieces, and in so doing furnished Mr. Desiderius Mules with +much comment on the imposition to which he had been subjected, for he +had taken this conservatory at a valuation, and that valuation had +been for three pounds seven and fourpence ha'penny, whereas its real +value was, so he declared, three pounds seven and fourpence without +the ha'penny at the end or the three pounds before. + +When the Reverend Desiderius Mules heard that Captain Coppinger and +Judith Trevisa were to be married in his church, "By Jove," said he, +"they shall pay me double fees as extra parochial. I shall get that +out of them at all events. I have been choused sufficiently." + +A post-chaise from Wadebridge conveyed Judith, Miss Trevisa, Uncle +Zachie, and Jamie from Polzeath. + +The bride was restless. At one moment she leaned back, then forward; +her eyes turned resolutely through the window at the fog. Her hands +plucked at her veil or at her gloves; she spoke not a word throughout +the drive. Aunt Dionysia was also silent. Opposite her sat Mr. Menaida +in blue coat with brass buttons, white waistcoat outside a colored +one, and white trousers tightly strapped. Though inclined to talk, he +was unable to resist the depressing influence of his vis-a-vis, Miss +Trevisa, who sat scowling at him with her thin lips closed. Jamie was +excited, but as no one answered him when he spoke he also lapsed into +silence. + +When the church-yard gate of St. Enodoc was reached, Mr. Menaida +jumped out of the chaise with a sigh of relief, and muttered to +himself that, had he known what to expect, he would have brought his +pocket-flask with him, and have had a nip of cognac on the way. + +A good number of sight-seers had assembled from Polzeath and St. +Enodoc, and stood in the church-yard, magnified by the mist to +gigantic size. Over the graves of drowned sailors were planted the +figure-heads of wrecked vessels, and these in the mist might have been +taken as the dead risen and mingling with the living to view this +dreary marriage. + +The bride herself looked ghostlike, or as a waft of the fog, but +little condensed, blown through the graveyard toward the gap in the +church wall, and blown through that also within. + +That gap was usually blocked with planks from a wreck, supported by +beams; when the church was to be put in requisition, then the beams +were knocked away, whereupon down clattered the boards and they were +tossed aside. It had been so done on this occasion, and the fragments +were heaped untidily among the graves under the church wall. The +clerk-sexton had, indeed, considered that morning, with his hands in +his pockets, whether it would be worth his while, assisted by the five +bell-ringers, to take this accumulation of wreckage and pile it +together out of sight, but he had thought that, owing to the fog, a +veil would be drawn over the disorder, and he might be saved this +extra trouble. + +Within the sacred building, over his boots in sand, stamped, and +frowned, and paced, and growled the Reverend Desiderius Mules, in +surplice, hood, and stole, very ill at ease and out of humor because +the wedding-party arrived unpunctually, and he feared he might catch +cold from the wind and fog that drifted in through the hole in the +wall serving as door. + +The sand within was level with the sills of the windows; it cut the +tables of commandments in half; had blotted away the majority of +inhibitions against marriage within blood relationship and marriage +kinship. The altar-rails were below the surface. The altar-table had +been fished up and set against the east wall, not on this day for the +marriage, but at some previous occasion. Then the sexton had placed +two pieces of slate under the feet on one side, and not having found +handy any other pieces, had thought that perhaps it did not matter. +Consequently the two legs one side had sunk in the sand, and the +altar-table formed an incline. + +A vast number of bats occupied the church, and by day hung like little +moleskin purses from the roof. Complaints had been made of the +disagreeableness of having these creatures suspended immediately over +the head of the officiant, accordingly the sexton had knocked away +such as were suspended immediately above the altar and step--a place +where the step was, beneath the sand; but he did not think it +necessary to disturb those in other parts of the church. If they +inconvenienced others, it was the penalty of curiosity, coming to see +a wedding there. Toward the west end of the church some wooden +pew-tops stood above the sand, and stuck into a gimlet-hole in the top +rail of one was a piece of holly, dry and brown as a chip. It had been +put there as a Christmas decoration the last year that the church was +used for divine worship, at the feast of Noel; _when_ that was, only +the oldest men could remember. The sexton had looked at it several +times with his hands in his pockets and considered whether it were +worth while pulling his hands out and removing the withered fragment, +and carrying it outside the church, but had arrived at the conclusion +that it injured no one, and might therefore just as well remain. + +There were fragments of stained glass in the windows, in the upper +light of the perpendicular windows saints and angels in white and gold +on ruby and blue grounds. In one window a fragment of a Christ on the +cross. But all were much obscured by cobwebs. The cobwebs, after +having entangled many flies, caught and retained many particles of +sand, became impervious to light and obscured the figures in the +painted glass. The sexton had looked at these cobwebs occasionally and +mused whether it would be worth his while to sweep them down, but as +he knew that the church was rarely used for divine offices, and never +for regular divine worship, he deemed that there was no crying +necessity for their destruction. Life was short, and time might be +better employed--to whit in talking to a neighbor, in smoking a pipe, +in drinking a pint of ale, in larruping his wife, in reading the +paper. Consequently the cobwebs remained. + +Had Mr. Desiderius Mules been possessed of antiquarian tastes, he +might have occupied the time he was kept waiting in studying the +bosses of carved oak that adorned the wagon-roof of the church, which +were in some cases quaint, in the majority beautiful, and no two the +same. And he might have puzzled out the meaning of three rabbits with +only three ears between them forming a triangle, or three heads united +in one neck, a king, a queen, a bishop and a monk, or of a sow +suckling a dozen little pigs. + +But Mr. Desiderius Mules had no artistic or archaeological faculty +developed in him. His one object on the present occasion was to keep +draught and damp from the crown of his head, where the hair was so +scanty as hardly to exist at all. He did not like to assume his hat in +the consecrated building, so he stamped about in the sand holding a +red bandanna handkerchief on the top of his head, and grumbling at the +time he was kept waiting, at the Cornish climate, at the way in which +he had been "choused" in the matter of dilapidations for the chancel +of the church, at the unintelligible dialect of the people, and at a +good many other causes of irritation, notably at a bat which had not +reverenced his bald pate, when he ventured beyond the range of the +sexton's sweeping. + +Presently the clerk, who was outside, thrust in his head through the +gap in the wall, and in a stage whisper announced, "They's a-coming." + +The Reverend Mules growled, "There ought to be a right to charge extra +when the parson is kept waiting--sixpence a minute, not a penny less. +But we are choused in this confounded corner of the world in every +way. Ha! there is a mildew-spot on my stole--all come of this +villainous damp." + +In the tower stood five men, ready to pull the ropes and sound a merry +peal when the service was over, and earn a guinea. They had a firkin +of ale in a corner, with which to moisten their inner clay between +each round. Now that they heard that the wedding party had arrived +they spat on their hands and heaved their legs out of the sand. + +Through the aperture in the wall entered the bridal party, a cloud of +fog blowing in with them and enveloping them. They stepped laboriously +through the fine sand, at this place less firm than elsewhere, having +been dug into daily by the late rector in his futile efforts to clear +the church. + +Mr. Mules cast a suspicious look into the rafters above him to see +that no profane bat was there, and opened his book. + +Mr. Menaida was to act as father to the bride, and there was no other +bride's-maid than Miss Trevisa. As they waded toward the alter, +Judith's strength failed, and she stood still. Then Uncle Zachie put +his arm round her and half carried her over the sand toward the place +where she must stand to give herself away. She turned her head and +thanked him with her eyes, she could not speak. So deathly was her +whiteness, so deficient in life did she seem, that Miss Trevisa looked +at her with some anxiety, and a little doubt whether she would be able +to go through the service. + +When Judith reached her place, her eyes rested on the sand. She did +not look to her left side, she could hear no steps, for the sand +muffled all sound of feet, but she knew by the cold shudder that +thrilled through her, that Captain Coppinger was at her side. + +"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here--now then order, if you +please, and quiet, we are twenty-five minutes after time," said Mr. +Desiderius Mules. + +The first few words, seven in all were addressed to the wedding party, +the rest to a number of men and women and children who were stumbling +and plunging into the church through the improvised door, thrusting +each other forward, with a "get along," and "out of the road," all +eager to secure a good sight of the ceremony, and none able to hurry +to a suitable place because of the sand that impeded every step. + +"Now then--I can't stay here all day!" + +Mr. Mules sniffed and applied the bandanna to his nose, as an +indication that he was chilled, and that this rheum would be on the +heads of the congregation, were he made ill by this delay. + +"Dearly beloved, we are gathered," he began again, and he was now able +to proceed. + +"Cruel," said he in loud and emphatic tones, "wilt thou have this +woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in +the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, +and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep +thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?" + +The response of Coppinger went through the heart of Judith like a +knife. Then the rector addressed her. For answer she looked up at him +and moved her lips. He took her hand and placed it in that of +Coppinger. It was cold as ice and quivering like an aspen leaf. As +Captain Coppinger held it, it seemed to drag and become heavy in his +hand, whilst he pronounced the words after the rector, making oath to +take Judith as his own. Then the same words were recited to her, for +her to repeat in order after the priest. She began, she moved her +lips, looked him pleadingly in the face, her head swam, the fog filled +the whole church and settled between her and the rector. She felt +nothing save the grip of Coppinger's hand, and sank unconscious to the +ground. + +"Go forward," said Cruel. Mr. Menaida and Aunt Dionysia caught Judith +and held her up. She could neither speak nor stir. Her lips were +unclosed, she seemed to be gasping for breath like one drowning. + +"Go on," persisted Cruel, and holding her left hand he thrust the ring +on her fourth finger, repeating the words of the formula. + +"I cannot proceed," said the Reverend Desiderius. + +"Then you will have to come again to-morrow." + +"She is unconscious," objected the rector. + +"It is momentary only," said Aunt Dionysia; "be quick and finish." + +Mr. Mules hesitated a moment. He had no wish to return in like weather +on another day; no wish again to be kept waiting five and twenty +minutes. He rushed at the remainder of the office and concluded it at +a hand gallop. + +"Now," said he, "the registers are at the rectory. Come there." + +Coppinger looked at Judith. + +"Not to-day. It is not possible. She is ill--faint. To-morrow. Neither +she nor I nor the witnesses will run away. We will come to you +to-morrow." + +Uncle Zachie offered to assist Judith from the church. + +"No," said Cruel, peremptorily, "she is mine now." + +She was able with assistance to walk, she seemed to recover for a +moment in the air outside, but again lapsed into faintness on being +placed in the chaise. + +"To Pentyre Glaze," ordered Coppinger; "our home." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +A BREAKFAST. + + +"She has been over-exerted, over-excited," said Miss Trevisa. "Leave +her to recover; in a few days she will be herself again. Remember, her +father died of heart complaint, and though Judith resembles her mother +rather than a Trevisa, she may have inherited from my brother just +that one thing she had better have let him carry to his grave with +him." + +So Judith was given the little room that adjoined her aunt's, and Miss +Trevisa postponed for a week her migration to Othello Cottage. + +Aunt Dionysia was uneasy about her niece; perhaps her conscience did +suffer from some qualms when she saw how Judith shrank from the union +she had driven her into for her own selfish convenience. She treated +her in the wisest manner, now she had brought her to the Glaze, for +she placed her in her old room next her own, and left her there to +herself. Judith could hear her aunt walking about and muttering in the +adjoining chamber, and was content to be left alone to recover her +composure and strength. + +Uncle Zachie and Jump were, however, in sore distress; they had made +the trim cottage ready, had prepared a wedding breakfast, engaged a +helping hand or two, and no one had come to partake. Nor was Mr. +Desiderius Mules in a cheerful mood. He had been invited to the +breakfast, and was hungry and cold. He had to wait while Mr. Menaida +ran up to Pentyre to know whether any one was going to honor his +board. While he was away the rector stamped about the parlor, growling +that he believed he was about to be "choused out of his breakfast. +There was really no knowing what these people in this out-of-the-world +corner might do." Then he pulled off his boots and shook the sand out, +rang for Jump, and asked at what hour precisely the breakfast was to +be eaten, and whether it was put on table to be looked at only. + +From Pentyre Glaze Mr. Menaida was not greatly successful in obtaining +guests. He found some wild-looking men there in converse with +Coppinger, men whom he knew by rumor to belong to a class that had no +ostensible profession and means of living. + +Mr. Menaida had ordered in clotted cream, which would not keep sweet +many days. It ought to be eaten at once. He wanted to know whether +Coppinger, the bride, Miss Trevisa, anyone was coming to his house to +consume the clotted cream. As Jamie was drifting about purposeless, +and he alone seemed disposed to accompany Uncle Zachie, the old +gentleman carried him off. + +"I s'pose I can't on the spur of the moment go in and ask over St. +Minver parson?" asked Menaida, dubiously, of the St. Enodoc parson. +"You see I daresay he's hurt not to have had the coupling of 'em +himself." + +"Most certainly not," said Mr. Mules; "an appetite is likely to go +into faintness unless attended to at once. I know that the coats of my +stomach are honeycombed with gastric juice. Shall I say grace? Another +half-hour of delay will finish me." + +Consequently but three persons sat down to a plentiful meal; but some +goose, cold, had hardly been served, when in came Mr. Scantlebray, the +agent, with a cheery salutation of "Hulloa, Menaida, old man! What, +eating and drinking? I'll handle a knife and fork with you, unasked. +Beg pardon, Mr. Mules. I'm a rough man, and an old acquaintance of our +good friend here. Hope I see you in the enjoyment of robust health, +sir. Oh, Menaida, old man! I didn't expect such a thing as this. Now I +begin to see daylight, and understand why I was turned out of the +valuership, and why my brother lost this promising young pupil. Ah, +ha! my man, you have been deprived of fun, such fun, roaring fun, by +not being with my brother Scanty. Well, sir," to Mr. Mules, "what was +the figure of the valuation? You had a queer man on your side. I pity +you. A man I wouldn't trust myself. I name no names. Now tell me, what +did you get?" + +"A hundred and twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence farthing. +Monstrous--a chouse." + +"As you say, monstrous. Why that chancel, show me the builder who +will contract to do that alone at a hundred and twenty-seven pounds? +And the repairs of the vestry--are they to be reckoned at four and +ninepence farthing? It is a swindle. I'd appeal. I'd refuse. You made +a mistake, sir, let me tell you, in falling into certain hands. +Yes--I'll have some goose, thank you." + +Mr. Scantlebray ate heartily, so did the Reverend Desiderius, who had +the honeycomb cells of his stomach coats to fill. + +Both, moreover, did justice to Mr. Menaida's wine, they did not spare +it; why should they? Those for whom the board was spread had not +troubled to come to it, and they must make amends for their neglect. + +"Horrible weather," said the rector. "I suppose this detestable sort +of stuff of which the atmosphere is composed is the prevailing +abomination one has to inhale throughout three-quarters of the year. +One cannot see three yards before one." + +"It's bad for some and good for others," answered Scantlebray. +"There'll be wrecks, certainly, after this, especially if we get, as +we are pretty sure to get, a wind ashore." + +"Wrecks!" exclaimed the Rector, "and pray who pays the fees for +drowned men I may be expected to bury?" + +"The parish," answered Uncle Zachie. + +"Oh, half-a-crown a head," said Mr. Mules, contemptuously. + +"There are other things to be had besides burial fees out of a wreck," +said Scantlebray; "but you must be down early before the coast-guard +are there. Have you donkeys?" + +"Donkeys! What for?" + +"I have one, a gray beauty," exclaimed Jamie; "Captain Coppinger gave +her to me." + +"Well, young man, then you pick up what you can, when you have the +chance, and lade her with your findings. You'll pick up something +better than corpses, and make something more than burial half-crowns." + +"But why do you suppose there will be wrecks?" inquired the rector of +St. Enodoc. "There is no storm." + +"No storm, certainly, but there is fog, and in the fog vessels coming +up the Channel to Bristol get lost as to their bearings, get near our +cliffs without knowing it, and then--if a wind from the west spring up +and blows rough--they are done for, they can't escape to the open. +That's it, old man. I beg your Reverence's pardon, I mean, sir. When I +said that such weather was bad for some and good for others you can +understand me now--bad for the wrecked, good for the wreckers." + +"But surely you have no wreckers here?" + +Mr. Scantlebray laughed. "Go and tell the bridegroom that you think +so. I'll let you into the knowledge of one thing"--he winked over his +glass--"there's a fine merchantman on her way to Bristol." + +"How do you know?" + +"Know! Because she was sighted off St. Ives, and the tidings has run +up the coast like fire among heather. I don't doubt it that it has +reached Hartland by this; and with a thick fog like to-day there are a +thousand hearts beating with expectation. Who can say? She may be +laden with gold-dust from Africa, or with tin from Barca, or with port +from Oporto." + +"My boy Oliver is coming home," said Mr. Menaida. + +"Then let's hope he is not in this vessel, for, old man, she stands a +bad chance in such weather as this. There is Porth-quin, and there is +Hayle Bay ready to receive her, or Doom Bar on which she may run, all +handy for our people. Are you anything of a sportsman, sir?" + +"A little--but I don't fancy there is much in this precious +country--no cover." + +"What is fox-hunting when you come to consider--or going after a snipe +or a partridge? A fox! it's naught, the brush stinks, and a snipe is +but a mouthful. My dear sir, if you come to live among us, you must +seek your sport not on the land but at sea. You'll find the sport +worth something when you get a haul of a barrel of first-rate sherry, +or a load of silver ingots. Why, that's how Penwarden bought his farm. +He got the money after a storm--found it on the shore out of the +pocket of a dead man. Do you know why the bells of St. Enodoc are so +sweet? Because, so folks say, melted into them are ingots of Peruvian +silver from a ship wrecked on Doom Bar." + +"I should like to get some silver or gold," said Jamie. + +"I daresay you would, and so perhaps you may if you look out for it. +Go to your good friend, Captain Coppinger, and tell him what you want. +He has made his pickings before now on shore and off wrecks, and has +not given up the practice." + +"But," said Mr. Mules, "do you mean to tell me that you people in this +benighted corner of the world live like sharks, upon whatever is cast +overboard?" + +"No, I do not," answered Scantlebray. "We have too much energy and +intelligence for that. We don't always wait till it is cast overboard, +we go aboard and take what we want." + +"What, steal!" + +"I don't call that stealing when Providence and a southwest wind +throws a ship into our laps, when we put in our fingers and pick out +the articles we want. What are Porth-quin and Hayle Bay but our laps, +in which lie the wrecks heaven sends us? And Doom Bar, what is that +but a counter on which the good things are spread, and those first +there get the first share?" + +"And pray," said Mr. Desiderius Mules, "have the owners of the +vessels, the passengers, the captains, no objections to make?" + +"They are not there. Don't wait for our people. If they do--so much +the worse for them." Then Scantlebray laughed. "There's a good story +told of the Zenobia, lost four years ago. There was a lady on board. +When she knew the vessel was on Doom Bar she put on all her jewelry, +to escape with it. But some of our people got to the wreck before she +got off it, and one lobe of her ears got torn off." + +"Torn off?" + +"Yes--in pulling the earrings off her." + +"But who pulled the earrings off her?" + +"Our people." + +"Gracious heavens! Were they not brought to justice?" + +"Who did it? no one knew. What became of the jewelry? no one knew. All +that was known was that Lady Knighton--that was her name--lost her +diamonds and the lobe of her right ear as well." + +"And it was never recovered?" + +"What! the lobe of her ear?" + +"No, the jewelry." + +"Never." + +"Upon my word I have got among a parcel of scoundrels. It is high time +that I should come and reform them. I'll set to work at once. I'll +have St. Enodoc dug out and restored, and I'll soon put an end to this +sort of thing." + +"You think so?" + +"You don't know me. I'll have a bazaar. I'll have a ball in the +Assembly Rooms at Wadebridge. The church shall be excavated. I'm not +going in there again with the bats, to have my boots filled with sand, +I can tell you--everything shall be renovated and put to rights. I'll +see to it at once. I'll have a pigeon shooting for the sake of my +chancel--I daresay I shall raise twenty pounds by that alone--and a +raffle for the font, and an Aunt Sally for the pulpit. But the ball +will be the main thing, I'll send and get the county people to +patronize. I'll do it, and you barbarians in this benighted corner of +the world shall see there is a man of energy among you." + +"You'd best try your hand on a wreck. You'll get more off that." + +"And I'll have a bran pie for an altar-table." + +"You won't get the parishioners to do anything for the restoration of +the church. They don't want to have it restored." + +"The Decalogue is rotten. I ran my umbrella through the Ten +Commandments this morning. I'll have a gypsy camp and fortune-telling +to furnish me with new Commandments." + +"I've heard tell," said Scantlebray, "that at Ponghill, near Stratton, +is a four-post bed of pure gold came off a wreck in Bude Bay."[C] + + [C] An exaggeration. The bed of seventeenth century Italian + work, is gilt. It is now in a small farmhouse. + +"When I was in the North," said the rector of St. Enodoc, "we had a +savage who bit off the heads of rats, snap, skinned them and ate them +raw, and charged sixpence entrance; but that was for the missionaries. +I should hardly advocate that for the restoration of a church; +besides, where is the savage to be got? We made twenty-seven pounds by +that man, but expenses were heavy and swallowed up twenty-five; we +sent two pounds to the missionaries." + +Mr. Menaida stood up and went to the window. + +"I believe the wind has shifted to the north, and we shall have a +lightening of the fog after sunset." + +"Shall we not have a wreck! I hope there'll be one," said Jamie. + +"What is the law about wreckage, Menaida, old man?" asked Scantlebray, +also coming to the window. + +"The law is plain enough. No one has a right to goods come to land; he +who finds may claim salvage--naught else; and any persons taking goods +cast ashore, which are not legal wreck, may be punished." + +"And," said Scantlebray, "what if certain persons give occasion to a +ship being wrecked, and then plundering the wreck?" + +"There the law is also plain. The invading and robbing of a vessel, +either in distress or wrecked, and the putting forth of false lights +in order to bring a vessel into danger, are capital felonies." + +Scantlebray went to the table, took up a napkin, twisted it and then +flung it round his neck, and hung his head on one side. + +"What--this, Menaida, old man?" + +Uncle Zachie nodded. + +"Come here, Jim, my boy, a word with you outside." Scantlebray led +Jamie into the road. "There's been a shilling owing you for some time. +We had roaring fun about it once. Here it is. Now listen to me. Go to +Pentyre, you want to find gold-dust on the shore, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +"Or bars of silver?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, beg Captain Coppinger, if he is going to have a Jack o' Lantern +to-night, to let you be the Jack. Do you understand? and mind--not a +word about me. Then gold-dust and bars of silver and purses of +shillings. Mind you ask to be Jack o' Lantern. It is fun. Such fun. +Roaring fun." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +JACK O' LANTERN. + + +Evening closed in; Judith had been left entirely to herself. She sat +in the window, looking out into the mist and watching the failing of +the light. Sometimes she opened the casement and allowed the vapor to +blow in like cold steam, then became chilled, shivered, and closed it +again. The wind was rising and piped about the house, piped at her +window. Judith, sitting there, tried with her hand to find the crevice +through which the blast drove, and then amused herself with playing +with her finger-tops on the openings and regulating the whistle so as +to form a tune. She heard frequently Coppinger's voice in +conversation, sometimes in the hall, sometimes in the court-yard, but +could not catch what was spoken. She listened, with childish +curiosity, to the voice that was now that of her lord and husband, and +endeavored to riddle out of it some answer to her questions as to what +sort of a master he would prove. She could not comprehend him. She had +heard stories told of him that made her deem him the worst of men, +remorseless and regardless of others, yet toward her he had proved +gentle and considerate. What, for instance, could be more delicate and +thoughtful than his behavior to her at this very time! Feeling that +she had married him with reluctance, he had kept away from her and +suffered her to recover her composure without affording her additional +struggle. A reaction after the strain on her nerves set in; the step +she had dreaded had been taken, and she was the wife of the man she +feared and did not love. The suspense of expectation was exchanged for +the calmer grief of retrospect. + +The fog all day had been white as wool, and she had noticed how +parcels of vapor had been caught and entangled in the thorn bushes as +the fog swept by, very much as sheep left flocks of their fleece in +the bushes when they broke out of a field. Now that the day set, the +vapor lost its whiteness and became ash gray, but it was not as dense +as it had been, or rather it was compacted in places into thick masses +with clear tracts between. The sea was not visible, nor the cliffs, +but she could distinguish out-buildings, tufts of furze and hedges. +The wind blew much stronger, and she could hear the boom of the waves +against the rocks, like the throbbing of the unseen heart of the +world. It was louder than it had been. The sound did not come upon the +wind, for the fog that muffled all objects from sight, muffled also +all sounds to the ear, but the boom came from the vibration of the +land. The sea flung against the coast-line shook the rocks, and they +quivered for a long distance inland, making every wall and tree quiver +also, and the sound of the sea was heard not through the ears but +through the soles of the feet. + +Miss Trevisa came in. + +"Shall I light you a pair of candles, Judith?" + +"I thank you, hardly yet." + +"And will you not eat?" + +"Yes, presently, when supper is served." + +"You will come down-stairs?" + +"Yes." + +"I am glad to hear that." + +"Aunt, I thought you were going to Othello Cottage the day I came +here." + +"Captain Coppinger will not suffer me to leave at once till you have +settled down to your duties as mistress of the house." + +"Oh, auntie! I shall never be able to manage this large +establishment." + +"Why not! You managed that at the rectory." + +"Yes, but it was so different." + +"How so?" + +"My dear papa's requirements were so simple, and so few, and there +were no men about except old Balhachet, and he was a dear, good old +humbug. Here, I don't know how many men there are, and who belong to +the house, and who do not. They are in one day and out the next--and +then Captain Coppinger is not like my own darling papa." + +"No, indeed, he is not. Shall I light the candles? I have something to +show you." + +"As you will, aunt." + +Miss Trevisa went into her room and fetched a light, and kindled the +two candles that stood on Judith's dressing-table. + +"Oh, aunt! not three candles." + +"Why not? We shall need light." + +"But three candles together bring ill-luck; and we have had enough +already." + +"Pshaw! Don't be a fool. I want light, for I have something to show +you." + +She opened a small box and drew forth a brooch and earrings that +flashed in the rays of the candle. + +"Look, child! they are yours. Captain Coppinger has given them to you. +They are diamonds. See--a butterfly for the breast, and two little +butterflies for the ears." + +"Oh, auntie! not for me. I do not want them." + +"This is ungracious. I daresay they cost many hundreds of pounds. They +are diamonds." + +Judith took the brooch and earrings in her hand; they sparkled. The +diamonds were far from being brilliants, they were of good size and +purest water. + +"I really do not want to have them. Persuade Captain Coppinger to +return them to the jeweller, it is far too costly a gift for me, +far--far--I should be happier without them." Then, suddenly--"I do not +know that they have been bought? Oh, Aunt Dunes, tell me truly. Have +they been bought? I think jewellers always send out their goods in +leather cases, and there is none such for these. And see--this +earring--the gold is bent, as if pulled out of shape. I am sure they +have not been bought. Take them back again, I pray you." + +"You little fool!" said Miss Trevisa, angrily. "I will do nothing of +the kind. If you refuse them--then take them back yourself. Captain +Coppinger performs a generous and kind act that costs him much money, +and you throw his gift in his face, you insult him. Insult him +yourself with your suspicions and refusals--you have already behaved +to him outrageously. I will do nothing for you that you ask. Your +father put on me a task that is hateful, and I wish I were clear of +it." + +Then she bounced out of the room, leaving her candle burning along +with the other two. + +A moment later she came back hastily and closed Judith's shutters. + +"Oh, leave them open," pleaded Judith. "I shall like to see how the +night goes--if the fog clears away." + +"No--I will not," answered Miss Trevisa, roughly. "And mind you. These +shutters remain shut, or your candles go out. Your window commands +the sea, and the light of your window must not show." + +"Why not?" + +"Because should the fog lift, it would be seen by vessels." + +"Why should they not see it?" + +"You are a fool. Obey, and ask no questions." + +Miss Trevisa put up the bar and then retired with her candle, leaving +Judith to her own thoughts, with the diamonds on the table before her. + +And her thoughts were reproachful of herself. She was ungracious and +perhaps unjust. Her husband had sent her a present of rare value, and +she was disposed to reject it, and charge him with not having come by +the diamonds honestly. They were not new from a jeweller, but what of +that? Could he afford to buy her a set at the price of some hundreds +of pounds? And because he had not obtained them from a jeweller, did +it follow that he had taken them unlawfully? He might have picked them +up on the shore, or have bought them from a man who had. He might have +obtained them at a sale in the neighborhood. They might be family +jewels, that had belonged to his mother, and he was showing her the +highest honor a man could show a woman in asking her to wear the +ornaments that had belonged to his mother. + +He had exhibited to her a store-room full of beautiful things, but +these might be legitimately his, brought from foreign countries by his +ship the Black Prince. It was possible that they were not contraband +articles. + +Judith opened her door and went down-stairs. In the hall she found +Coppinger with two or three men, but the moment he saw her he started +up, came to meet her, and drew her aside into a parlor, then went back +into the hall and fetched candles. A fire was burning in this room, +ready for her, should she condescend to use it. + +"I hope I have not interrupted you," she said, timidly. + +"An agreeable interruption. At any time you have only to show yourself +and I will at once come to you, and never ask to be dismissed." + +She knew that this was no empty compliment, that he meant it from the +depth of his heart, and was sorry that she could not respond to an +affection so deep and so sincere. + +"You have been very good to me--more good than I deserve," she said, +standing by the fire with lowered eyes, "I must thank you now for a +splendid and beautiful present, and I really do not know how to find +words in which fittingly to acknowledge it." + +"You cannot thank and gratify me better than by wearing what I have +given you." + +"But when? Surely not on an ordinary evening?" + +"No--certainly. The Rector has been up this afternoon and desired to +see you, he is hot on a scheme for a public ball to be given at +Wadebridge for the restoration of his church, and he has asked that +you will be a patroness." + +"I--oh--I!--after my father's death?" + +"That was in the late spring, and now it is the early winter, besides, +now you are a married lady--and was not the digging out and restoring +of the church your father's strong desire?" + +"Yes--but he would never have had a ball for such a purpose." + +"The money must be raised somehow. So I promised for you. You could +not well refuse--he was impatient to be off to Wadebridge and secure +the assembly rooms." + +"But--Captain Coppinger--" + +"Captain Coppinger?" + +Judith colored. "I beg your pardon--I forgot. And now--I do not +recollect what I was going to say. It matters nothing. If you wish me +to go I will go. If you wish me to wear diamond butterflies I will +wear them." + +"I thank you." He held out his hands to her. + +She drew back slightly and folded her palms as though praying. "I will +do much to please you, but do not press me too greatly. I am strange +in this house, strange in my new situation; give me time to breathe +and look round and recover my confidence. Besides, we are only +half-married so far." + +"How so?" + +"I have not signed the register." + +"No, but that shall be done to-morrow." + +"Yes, to-morrow--but that gives me breathing time. You will be patient +and forbearing with me." She put forward her hands folded and he put +his outside them and pressed them. The flicker of the fire lent a +little color to her cheeks and surrounded her head with an aureole of +spun gold. + +"Judith, I will do anything you ask. I love you with all my soul, past +speaking. I am your slave. But do not hold me too long in chains, do +not tread me too ruthlessly under foot." + +"Give me time," she pleaded. + +"I will give you a little time," he answered. + +Then she withdrew her hands from between his and sped up stairs, +leaving him looking into the fire with troubled face. + +When she returned to her room the candles were still burning, and the +diamonds lay on the dressing-table where she had left them. She took +the brooch and earrings to return them to their box, and then noticed +for the first time that they were wrapped in paper, not in +cotton-wool. She tapped at her aunt's door, and entering asked if she +had any cotton-wool that she could spare her. + +"No, I have not. What do you want it for?" + +"For the jewelry. It cannot have come from a shop, as it was wrapped +in paper only." + +"It will take no hurt. Wrap it in paper again." + +"I had rather not, auntie. Besides, I have some cotton-wool in my +workbox." + +"Then use it." + +"But my workbox has not been brought here. It is at Mr. Menaida's." + +"You can fetch it to-morrow." + +"But I am lost without my needles and thread. Besides, I do not like +to leave my workbox about. I will go for it. The walk will do me +good." + +"Nonsense, it is falling dark." + +"I will get Uncle Zachie to walk back with me. I must have my workbox. +Besides, the fresh air will do me good, and the fog has lifted." + +"As you will, then." + +So Judith put on her cloak and drew a hood over her head and went back +to Polzeath. She knew the way perfectly, there was no danger, night +had not closed in. It would be a pleasure to her to see the old +bird-stuffer's face again, and she wanted to find Jamie. She had not +seen him nor heard his voice, and she supposed he must be at Polzeath. + +On her arrival at the double cottage, the old fellow was delighted to +see her, and to see that she had recovered from the distress and +faintness of the morning sufficiently to be able to walk back to his +house from her new home. Her first question was after Jamie. Uncle +Zachie told her that Jamie had breakfasted at his table, but he had +gone away in the afternoon and he had seen no more of him. The fire +was lighted, and Uncle Zachie insisted on Judith sitting by it with +him and talking over the events of the day, and on telling him that +she was content with her position, reconciled to the change of her +state. + +She sat longer with him than she had intended, listening to his +disconnected chatter, and then nothing would suffice him but she must +sit at the piano and play through his favorite pieces. + +"Remember, Judith, it is the last time I shall have you here to give +me this pleasure." + +She could not refuse him his request, especially as he was to walk +back to Pentyre with her. Thus time passed, and it was with alarm and +self-reproach that she started up on hearing the clock strike the +half-past, and learned that it was half-past nine, and not half-past +eight, as she supposed. + +As she now insisted on departing, Mr. Menaida put on his hat. + +"Shall we take a light?" he asked, and then said: "No, we had better +not. On such a night as this a moving light is dangerous." + +"How can it be dangerous?" asked Judith. + +"Not to us, my dear child, but to ships at sea. A stationary light +might serve as a warning, but a moving light misleads. The captain of +a vessel, if he has lost his bearings, as is like enough in the fog, +as soon as the mist rises, would see a light gliding along and think +it was that of a vessel at sea, and so make in the direction of the +light in the belief that there was open water, and so run directly on +his destruction." + +"Oh, no, no, Uncle, we will not take a light." + +Mr. Menaida and Judith went out together, she with her workbox under +her arm, he with his stick, and her hand resting on his arm. The night +was dark, very dark, but the way led for the most part over down, and +there was just sufficient light in the sky for the road to be +distinguishable. It would be in the lane, between the walls and where +overhung by thorns, that the darkness would be most profound. The wind +was blowing strongly and the sound of the breakers came on it now, for +the cloud had lifted off land and sea, though still hanging low. Very +dense overhead it could not be, or no light would have pierced the +vaporous canopy. + +Uncle Zachie and Judith walked on talking together, and she felt +cheered by his presence, when all at once she stopped, pressed his +arm, and said: + +"Oh, do look, uncle! What is that light?" + +In the direction of the cliffs a light was distinctly visible, now +rising, now falling, observing an unevenly undulating motion. + +"Oh, uncle? It is too dreadful. Some foolish person is on the downs +going home with a lantern, and it may lead to a dreadful error, and a +wreck." + +"I hope to heaven it is only what you say." + +"What do you mean?" + +"That it is not done wilfully." + +"Wilfully!" + +"Yes, with the purpose to mislead. Look. The movement of the light is +exactly that of a ship on a rolling sea." + +"Uncle, let us go there at once and stop it." + +"I don't know, my dear; if it be done by some unprincipled ruffian he +would not be stopped by us." + +"It must be stopped. And, oh, think! you told me that your Oliver is +coming home. Think of him." + +"We will go." + +Mr. Menaida was drawn along by Judith in her eagerness. They left the +road to Pentyre, and struck out over the downs, keeping their eyes on +the light. The distance was deceptive. It seemed to have been much +nearer than they found it actually to be. + +"Look! it is coming back!" exclaimed Judith. + +"Yes, it is done wilfully. That is to give the appearance of a vessel +tacking up Channel. Stay behind, Judith. I will go on." + +"No. I will go with you. You would not find me again in the darkness +if we parted." + +"The light is coming this way. Stand still. It will come directly on +us." + +They drew up. Judith clung to Uncle Zachie's side, her heart beating +with excitement, indignation, and anger. + +"The lantern is fastened to an ass's head," said Uncle Zachie; "do you +see how as the creature moves his head the light is swayed, and that +with the rise and fall in the land it looks as though the rise and +fall were on the sea. I have my stick. Stand behind me, Judith." + +But a voice was heard that made her gasp and clasp the arm of Uncle +Zachie the tighter. + +Neither spoke. + +The light approached. They could distinguish the lantern, though they +could not see what bore it; only--next moment something caught the +light--the ear of a donkey thrust forward. + +Again a voice, that of some one urging on the ass. + +Judith let go Menaida's arm, sprang forward with a cry: "Jamie! Jamie! +what are you doing!" + +In a moment she had wrenched the lantern from the head of the ass, and +the creature, startled, dashed away and disappeared in the darkness. +Judith put the light under her cloak. + +"Oh, Jamie! Jamie! Why have you done this! Who ever set you to this +wicked task?" + +"I am Jack o' Lantern," answered the boy. "Ju! now my Neddy is gone." + +"Jamie, who sent you out to do this? Answer me." + +"Captain Coppinger!" + +Judith walked on in silence. Neither she nor Uncle Zachie spoke, only +Jamie whimpered and muttered. + +Suddenly they were surrounded, and a harsh voice exclaimed: + +"In the king's name. We have you now--showing false lights." + +Judith hastily slung the lantern from beneath her cloak, and saw that +there were several men about her, and that the speaker was Mr. +Scantlebray. + +The latter was surprised when he recognized her. + +"What!" he said, "I did not expect this--pretty quickly into your +apprenticeship. What brings you here! And you, too, Menaida, old man?" + +"Nothing simpler," answered Uncle Zachie. "I am accompanying Mrs. +Coppinger back to the Glaze." + +"What, married in the morning and roving the downs at night?" + +"I have been to Polzeath after my workbox--here it is," said Judith. + +"Oh, you are out of your road to Pentyre--I suppose you know that," +sneered Scantlebray. + +"Naturally," replied Mr. Menaida. "It is dark enough for any one to +stray. Why! you don't suspect me, do you, of showing false lights and +endeavoring to wreck vessels! That would be too good a joke--and the +offence, as I told you--capital." + +Scantlebray uttered an oath and turned to the men and said: "Captain +Cruel is too deep for us this time. I thought he had sent the boy out +with the ass--instead he has sent his wife--a wife of a few hours, and +never told her the mischief she was to do with the lantern--hark!" + +From the sea the boom of a gun. + +All stood still as if rooted to the spot. + +Then again the boom of a gun. + +"There is a wreck!" exclaimed Scantlebray. "I thought so--and you, +Mistress Orphing, you're guilty." He turned to the men. "We can make +nothing of this affair with the lantern. Let us catch the sea-wolves +falling on their prey." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE SEA-WOLVES. + + +On the Doom Bar. + +That very merchantman was wrecked, over which so many Cornish mouths +had watered, ay, and Devonian mouths also, from the moment she had +been sighted at St. Ives. + +She had been entangled in the fog, not knowing where she was, all her +bearings lost. The wind had risen, and when the day darkened into +night the mist had lifted in cruel kindness to show a false glimmer, +that was at once taken as the light of a ship beating up the Channel. +The head of the merchantman was put about, a half-reefed topsail +spread, and she ran on her destruction. With a crash she was on the +bar. The great bowlers that roll without a break from Labrador rushed +on behind, beat her, hammered her farther and farther into the sand, +surged up at each stroke, swept the decks with mingled foam and water +and spray. + +The main-mast went down with a snap. Bent with the sail, at the jerk, +as the vessel ran aground, it broke and came down--top-mast, rigging, +and sail, in an enveloping, draggled mass. From that moment the +captain's voice was no more heard. Had he been struck by the falling +mast and stunned or beaten overboard? or did he lie on deck enveloped +and smothered in wet sail, or had he been caught and strangled by the +cordage? None knew, none inquired. A wild panic seized crew and +passengers alike. The chief mate had the presence of mind to order the +discharge of signals of distress--but the order was imperfectly +carried out. A flash, illuminating for a second the glittering froth +and heaving sea, then a boom--almost stunned by the roar of the sea, +and the screams of women and oaths of sailors, and then panic laid +hold of the gunner also and he deserted his post. + +The word had gone round, none knew from whom, that the vessel had +been lured to her destruction by wreckers, and that in a few minutes +she would be boarded by these wolves of the sea. The captain, who +should have kept order, had disappeared, the mate was disregarded, +there was a general _sauve qui peut_. A few women were on board. At +the shock they had come on deck, some with children, and the latter +were wailing and shrieking with terror. The women implored that they +might be saved. Men passengers ran about asking what was to be done, +and were beaten aside and cursed by the frantic sailors. A Portuguese +nun was ill with sea-sickness, and sank on the deck like a log, crying +to St. Joseph between her paroxysms. One man alone seemed to maintain +his self-possession, a young man, and he did his utmost to soothe the +excited women and abate their terrors. He raised the prostrate nun and +insisted on her laying hold of a rope, lest in the swash of the water +she should be carried overboard. He entreated the mate to exert his +authority and bring the sailors to a sense of their duty, to save the +women instead of escaping in the boat, regardful of themselves only. + +Suddenly a steady star, red in color, glared out of the darkness, and +between it and the wreck heaved and tossed a welter of waves and foam. + +"There is land," shouted the mate. + +"And that shines just where that light was that led us here," retorted +a sailor. + +The vessel heeled to one side, and shipped water fore and aft, over +either rail, with a hiss and heave. She plunged, staggered, and sank +deeper into the sand. + +A boat had been lowered and three men were in it, and called to the +women to be sharp and join them. But this was no easy matter, for the +boat at one moment leaped up on the comb of a black wave, and then +sank in its yawning trough, now was close to the side of the ship, and +then separated from it by a rift of water. The frightened women were +let down by ropes, but in their bewilderment missed their opportunity +when the boat was under them, and some fell into the water, and had to +be dragged out, others refused to leave the wreck and risk a leap into +the little boat. Nothing would induce the sick nun to venture +overboard. She could not understand English; the young passenger +addressed her in Portuguese, and finally, losing all patience and +finding that precious time was wasted in arguing with a poor creature +incapable of reasoning in her present condition, he ordered a sailor +to help him, caught her up in his arms, and proceeded to swing himself +over, that he might carry her into the boat. + +But at that moment dark figures occupied the deck, and a man arrested +him with his hand, while in a loud and authoritative voice he called, +"No one leaves the vessel without my orders. Number Five, down into +the boat and secure that. Number Seven, go with him. Now, one by one, +and before each leaves, give over your purses and valuables that you +are trying to save. No harm shall be done you, only make no +resistance." + +The ship was in the hands of the wreckers. + +The men in the boat would have cast off at once, but the two men sent +into it, Numbers Five and Seven, prevented them. The presence of the +wreckers produced order where there had been confusion before. The man +who had laid his hand on the Portuguese nun, and had given orders, was +obeyed not only by his own men, but by the crew of the merchant +vessel, and by the passengers, from whom all thoughts of resistance, +if they ever rose, vanished at once. All alike, cowed and docile, +obeyed without a murmur, and began to produce from their pockets +whatever they had secured and hoped to carry ashore with them. + +"Nudding! me nudding!" gasped the nun. + +"Let her pass down," ordered the man who acted as captain. "Now the +next--you!" he turned on the young passenger who had assisted the nun. + +"You scoundrel," shouted the young man, "you shall not have a penny of +mine." + +"We shall see," answered the wrecker, and levelled a pistol at his +head. "What answer do you make to this?" + +The young man struck up the pistol, and it was discharged into the +air. Then he sprang on the captain, struck him in the chest, and +grappled with him. In a moment a furious contest was engaged in +between the two on the wet, sloping deck, sloping, for the cargo had +shifted. + +"Hah!" shouted the wrecker, "a Cornishman." + +"Yes, a Cornishman," answered the youth. + +The wrecker knew whence he came by his method of wrestling. + +If there had been light, crew, invaders, and passengers would have +gathered in a circle and watched the contest; but in the dark, lashed +by foam, in the roar of the waves and the pipe of the wind, only one +or two that were near were aware of the conflict. Some of the crew +were below. They had got at the spirits and were drinking. One drunken +sailor rushed forth swearing and blaspheming and striking about him. +He was knocked down by a wrecker, and a wave that heaved over the deck +lifted him and swept him over the bulwarks. + +The wrestle between the two men in the dark taxed the full nerves and +the skill of each. The young passenger was strong and nimble, but he +had found his match in the wrecker. The latter was skilful and of +great muscular power. First one went down on the knee, then the other, +but each was up again in a moment. A blinding whiff of foam and water +slashed between them, stinging their eyes, swashing into their mouths, +forcing them momentarily to relax their hold of each other, but next +moment they had leaped at each other again. Now they held each other, +breast to breast, and sought, with their arms bowed like the legs of +grasshoppers, to strangle or break each other's necks. Then, like a +clap of thunder, beat a huge billow against the stern, and rolled in a +liquid heap over the deck, enveloping the wrestlers, and lifted them +from their feet and cast them, writhing, pounding each other, on the +deck. + +There were screams and gasps from the women as they escaped from the +water; the nun shrieked to St. Joseph--she had lost her hold and fell +overboard, but was caught and placed in the boat. + +"Now another," was the shout. + +"Hand me your money," demanded one of the wreckers. "Madam, have no +fear. We do not hurt women. I will help you into the boat." + +"I have nothing--nothing but this! what shall I do if you take my +money?" + +"I am sorry--you must either remain and drown when the ship breaks up +or give me the purse." + +She gave up the purse and was safely lodged below. + +"Who are you?" gasped the captain of the wreckers in a moment of +relaxation from the desperate struggle. + +"An honest man--and you a villain," retorted the young passenger, and +the contest was recommenced. + +"Let go," said the wrecker, "and you shall be allowed to depart--and +carry your money with you." + +"I ask no man's leave to carry what is my own," answered the youth. He +put his hand to his waist and unbuckled a belt, to this belt was +attached a pouch well weighted with metal. "There is all I have in the +world--and with it I will beat your brains out." He whirled the belt +and money bag round his head and brought it down with a crash upon his +adversary, who staggered back. The young man struck at him again, but +in the dark missed him, and with the violence of the blow and weight +of the purse was carried forward, and on the slippery inclined planks +fell. + +"Now I have you," shouted the other; he flung himself on the prostrate +man and planted his knee on his back. But, assisted by the inclination +of the deck, the young man slipped from beneath his antagonist, and +half-rising caught him and dashed him against the rail. + +The wrecker was staggered for a moment, and had the passenger seized +the occasion he might have finished the conflict; but his purse had +slipped from his hand, and he groped for the belt till he found one +end at his feet, and now he twisted the belt round and about his right +arm and weighted his fist with the pouch. + +The captain recovered from the blow, and flung himself on his +adversary, grasped his arms between the shoulder and elbow, and bore +him back against the bulwark, drove him against it, and cast himself +upon him. + +"I've spared your life so far. Now I'll spare you no more," said he, +and the young man felt one of his arms released. He could not tell at +the time, he never could decide after how he knew it, but he was +certain that his enemy was groping at his side for his knife. Then the +hand of the wrecker closed on his throat, and the young man's head was +driven back over the rail, almost dislocating the neck. + +It was then as though the young man saw into the mind of him who had +cast himself against him, and who was strangling him. He knew that he +could not find his knife, but he saw nothing, only a fire and blood +before his eyes that looked up into the black heavens, and he felt +naught save agony at the nape of his neck, where his spine was turned +back on the bulwarks. + +"Number Seven! any of you! an axe!" roared the wrecker. "By heaven you +shall be as Wyvill! and float headless on the waves." + +"Coppinger!" cried the young man, by a desperate effort liberating his +hand. He threw his arms round the wrecker. A dash and a boil of froth, +and both went overboard, fighting as they fell into the surf. + +"In the King's name!" shouted a harsh voice. + +"Surround--secure them all. Now we have them and they shall not +escape." + +The wreck was boarded by, and in the hands of, the coast-guard. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +BRUISED NOT BROKEN. + + +"Come with me, uncle!" said Judith. + +"My dear, I will follow you like a dog, everywhere." + +"I want to go to the rectory." + +"To the rectory! At this time of night!" + +"At once." + +When the down was left there was no longer necessity for hiding the +lantern, as they were within lanes, and the light would not be seen at +sea. + +The distance to the parsonage was not great, and the little party were +soon there, but were somewhat puzzled how to find the door, owing to +the radical transformations of the approaches effected by the new +rector. + +Mr. Desiderius Mules was not in bed. He was in his study, without his +collar and necktie, smoking, and composing a sermon. It is not only +_lucus_ which is derived from _non lucendo_. A study in many a house +is equally misnamed. In that of Mr. Mules's house it had some claim, +perhaps, to its title, for in it, once a week, Mr. Desiderius +cudgelled his brains how to impart form to an inchoate mass of notes; +but it hardly deserved its name as a place where the brain was +exercised in absorption of information. The present study was the old +pantry. The old study had been occupied by a man of reading and of +thought. Perhaps it was not unsuitable that the pantry should become +Mr. Mules's study, and where the maid had emptied her slop-water after +cleaning forks and plates should be the place for the making of the +theological slop-water that was to be poured forth on the Sunday. +But--what a word has been here used--theological--another _lucus a non +lucendo_, for there was nothing of theology proper in the stuff +compounded by Mr. Mules. + +We shall best be able to judge by observing him engaged on his sermon +for Sunday. + +In his mouth was a pipe, on the table a jar of bird's-eye; _item_, a +tumbler of weak brandy and water to moisten his lips with +occasionally. It was weak. Mr. Mules never took a drop more than was +good for him. + +Before him were arranged in a circle his materials for composition. On +his extreme left was what he termed his treacle-pot. That was a volume +of unctuous piety. Then came his dish of flummery. That was a volume +of ornate discourses by a crack ladies' preacher. Next his spice-box. +That was a little store of anecdotes, illustrations, and pungent +sayings. Pearson on the Creed, Bishop Andrews, or any work of solid +divinity was not to be found either on his table or on his shelves. A +Commentary was outspread, and a Concordance. + +The Reverend Desiderius Mules sipped his brandy and water, took a long +whiff of his pipe, and then wrote his text. Then he turned to his +Commentary and extracted from it junks of moralization upon his text +and on other texts which his Concordance told him had more or less to +do with his head text. Then he peppered his paper well over with +quotations, those in six lines preferred to those in three. + +"Now," said the manufacturer of the sermon, "I must have a little +treacle. I suppose those bumpkins will like it, but not much, I hate +it myself. It is ridiculous. And I can dish up a trifle of flummery in +here and there conveniently, and--let me see. I'll work up to a story +near the tail somehow. But what heading shall I give my discourse? +'Pon my word I don't know what its subject is--we'll call it General +Piety. That will do admirably. Yes, General Piety. Come in! Who's +there?" + +A servant entered and said that there were Mr. Menaida and the lady +that was married that morning, at the door, wanting to speak with him. +Should she show them into the study? + +Mr. Mules looked at his brandy and water, then at his array of +material for composition, and then at his neckerchief on the floor, +and said: "No, into the drawing-room." The maid was to light the +candles. He would put on his collar and be with them shortly. + +So the sermon had to be laid aside. + +Presently Mr. Desiderius Mules entered his drawing-room, where Judith, +Uncle Zachie, and Jamie were awaiting him. + +"A late visit, but always welcome," said the rector. "Sorry I kept +you waiting, but I was _en deshabille_. What can I do for you now, +eh?" + +Judith was composed, she had formed her resolution. + +She said, "You married me this morning when I was unconscious. I +answered but one of your questions. Will you get your prayer-book and +I will make my responses to all those questions you put to me when I +was in a dead faint." + +"Oh, not necessary. Sign the register and it is all right. Silence +gives consent, you know." + +"I wish it otherwise, particularly, and then you can judge for +yourself whether silence gives consent." + +Mr. Desiderius Mules ran back into his study, pulled a whiff at his +pipe to prevent the fire from going out, moistened his untempered clay +with brandy and water, and came back again with a Book of Common +Prayer. + +"Here we are," said he. "'Wilt thou have this man,' and so on--you +answered to that, I believe. Then comes 'I, Judith, take thee, Curll, +to my wedded husband'--you were indistinct over that, I believe." + +"I remember nothing about it. Now I will say distinctly my meaning. I +will _not_ take Curll Coppinger to my wedded husband, and thereto I +will never give my troth--so help me, God." + +"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed the rector. "You put me in a queer +position. I married you, and you can't undo what is done. You have the +ring on your finger." + +"No, here it is. I return it." + +"I refuse to take it. I have nothing whatever to do with the ring. +Captain Coppinger put it on your hand." + +"When I was unconscious." + +"But am I to be choused out of my fee--as out of other things!" + +"You shall have your fee. Do not concern yourself about that. I refuse +to consider myself married. I refuse to sign the register, no man +shall force me to it, and if it comes to law, here are witnesses, you +yourself are a witness, that I was unconscious when you married me." + +"I shall get into trouble! This is a very unpleasant state of +affairs." + +"It is more unpleasant for me than for you," said Judith. + +"It is a most awkward complication. Never heard of such a case +before. Don't you think that after a good night's rest and a good +supper--and let me advise a stiff glass of something warm, taken +medicinally, you understand--that you will come round to a better +mind." + +"To another mind I shall not come round. I suppose I am half +married--never by my will shall that half be made into a whole." + +"And what do you want me to do?" asked Mr. Mules, thoroughly put out +of his self-possession by this extraordinary scene. + +"Nothing," answered Judith, "save to bear testimony that I utterly and +entirely refuse to complete the marriage which was half done--by +answering to those questions with a consent, which I failed to answer +in church because I fainted, and to wear the ring which was forced on +me when I was insensible, and to sign the register now I am in full +possession of my wits. We will detain you no longer." + +Judith left along with Jamie and Mr. Menaida, and Mr. Mules returned +to his sermon. He pulled at his pipe till the almost expired fire was +rekindled into glow, and he mixed himself a little more brandy and +water. Then with his pipe in the corner of his mouth he looked at his +discourse. It did not quite please him, it was undigested. + +"Dear me!" said Mr. Desiderius. "My mind is all of a whirl, and I can +do nothing to this now. It must go as it is--yet stay, I'll change the +title. General Piety is rather pointless. I'll call it Practical +Piety." + +Judith returned to Pentyre Glaze. She was satisfied with what she had +done; anger and indignation were in her heart. The man to whom she had +given her hand had enlisted her poor brother in the wicked work of +luring unfortunate sailors to their destruction. She could hardly +conceive of anything more diabolical than this form of wrecking: her +Jamie was involved in the crime of drawing men to their death. A ship +had been wrecked, she knew that by the minute guns, and if lives were +lost from it, the guilt in a measure rested on the head of Jamie. But +for her intervention he would have been taken in the act of showing +light to mislead mariners, and would certainly have been brought +before magistrates and most probably have been imprisoned. The +thought that her brother, the son of such a father, should have +escaped this disgrace through an accident only, and that he had been +subjected to the risk by Coppinger, filled her veins with liquid fire. +Thenceforth there could be nothing between her and Captain Cruel, save +antipathy, resentment, and contempt on her part. His passion for her +must cool or chase itself away. She would never yield to him a hair's +breadth. + +Judith threw herself on her bed, in her clothes. She could not sleep. +Wrath against Coppinger seethed in her young heart. Concerned she was +for the wrecked, but concern for them was over-lapped by fiery +indignation against the wrecker. There was also in her breast +self-reproach. She had not accepted as final her father's judgment on +the man. She had allowed Coppinger's admiration of herself to move her +from a position of uncompromising hostility, and to awake in her +suspicions that her dear, dear father might have been mistaken, and +that the man he condemned might not be guilty as he supposed. + +As she lay tossing on her bed, turning from side to side, her face now +flaming, then white, she heard a noise in the house. She sat up on her +bed and listened. There was now no light in the room, and she would +not go into that of her aunt to borrow one. Miss Trevisa might be +asleep, and would be vexed to be disturbed. Moreover resentment +against her aunt for having forced her into the marriage was strong in +the girl's heart, and she had no wish to enter into any communications +with her. + +So she sat on her bed, listening. + +There was certainly disturbance below. What was the meaning of it? + +Presently she heard her aunt's voice down-stairs. She was therefore +not asleep in her room. + +Thereupon Judith descended the stairs to the hall. There she found +Captain Coppinger being carried to his bedroom by two men, while Miss +Trevisa held a light. He was streaming with water that made pools on +the floor. + +"What is the matter? Is he hurt? Is he hurt seriously?" she asked, her +woman's sympathy at once aroused by the sight of suffering. + +"He has had a bad fall," replied her aunt. "He went to a wreck that +has been cast on Doom Bar, to help to save the unfortunate, and save +what they value equally with their lives--their goods, and he was +washed overboard. Fell into the sea, and was dashed against that boat. +Yes--he is injured. No bones broken _this_ time. This time he had to +do with the sea and with men. But he is badly bruised. Go on," she +said to those who were conveying Coppinger. "He is in pain, do you not +see this as you stand here? Lay him on his bed, and remove his +clothes. He is drenched to the skin. I will brew him a posset." + +"May I help you, aunt?" + +"I can do it myself." + +Judith remained with Miss Trevisa. She said nothing to her till the +posset was ready. Then she offered to carry it to her husband. + +"As you will--here it is," said Aunt Dionysia. + +Thereupon Judith took the draught, and went with it to Captain +Coppinger's room. He was in his bed. No one was with him, but a candle +burned on the table. + +"You have come to me, Judith?" he said with glad surprise. + +"Yes--I have brought you the posset. Drink it out to the last drop." + +She handed it to him; and he took the hot caudle. + +"I need not finish the bowl?" he asked. + +"Yes--to the last drop." + +He complied, and then suddenly withdrew the vessel from his lips. +"What is this--at the bottom?--a ring?" He extracted a plain gold ring +from the bowl. + +"What is the meaning of this? It is a wedding-ring." + +"Yes--mine." + +"It is early to lose it." + +"I threw it in." + +"You--Judith--why?" + +"I return it to you." + +He raised himself on one elbow and looked at her fixedly with +threatening eyes. + +"What is the meaning of this?" + +"That ring was put on my finger when I was unconscious. Wait till I +accept it freely." + +"But--Judith--the wedding is over." + +"Only a half wedding." + +"Well--well--it shall soon be a whole one. We will have the register +signed to-morrow." + +Judith shook her head. + +"You are acting strangely to-night," said he. + +"Answer me," said Judith. "Did you not send out Jamie with a light to +mislead the sailors, and draw them on to Doom Bar?" + +"Jamie, again!" exclaimed Coppinger, impatiently. + +"Yes, I have to consider for Jamie. Answer me, did you not send +him----" + +He burst in angrily, "If you will--yes--he took the light to the +shore. I knew there was a wreck. When a ship is in distress she must +have a light." + +"You are not speaking the truth. Answer me, did you go on board the +wrecked vessel to save those who were cast away?" + +"They would not have been saved without me. They had lost their +heads--every one." + +"Captain Coppinger," said Judith, "I have lost all trust in you. I +return you the ring which I will never wear. I have been to see the +rector and told him that I refuse you, and I will never sign the +register." + +"I will force the ring on to your finger," said Coppinger. + +"You are a man, stronger than I--but I can defend myself, as you know +to your cost. Half married we are--and so must remain, and never, +never shall we be more than that." + +Then she left the room, and Coppinger dashed his posset cup to the +ground, but held the ring and turned it in his fingers, and the light +flickered on it, a red gold ring like that red gold hair that was +about his throat. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +A CHANGE OF WIND. + + +After many years of separation, father and son were together once +more. Early in the morning after the wreck in Dover Bar, Oliver +Menaida appeared at his father's cottage, bruised and wet through, but +in health and with his purse in his hand. + +When he had gone overboard with the wrecker, the tide was falling and +he had been left on the sands of the Bar, where he had spent a cold +and miserable night, with only the satisfaction to warm him that his +life and his money were his. He was not floating, like Wyvill, a +headless trunk, nor was he without his pouch that contained his gold +and valuable papers. + +Mr. Menaida was roused from sleep very early to admit Oliver. The +young man had recognized where he was, as soon as sufficient light was +in the sky, and he had been carried across the estuary of the Camel by +one of the boats that was engaged in clearing the wreck, under the +direction of the captain of the coast-guard. But three men had been +arrested on the wrecked vessel, three of those who had boarded her for +plunder, all the rest had effected their escape, and it was +questionable whether these three could be brought to justice, as they +protested they had come from shore as salvers. They had heard the +signals of distress and had put off to do what they could for those +who were in jeopardy. No law forbad men coming to the assistance of +the wrecked. It could not be proved that they had laid their hands on +and kept for their own use any of the goods of the passengers or any +of the cargo of the vessel. It was true that from some of the women +their purses had been exacted, but the men taken professed their +innocence of having done this, and the man who had made the +demand--there was but one--had disappeared. Unhappily he had not been +secured. + +It was a question also whether proceedings could be taken relative to +the exhibition of lights that had misguided the merchantman. The +coast-guard had come on Mr. Menaida and Judith on the downs with a +light, but he was conducting her to her new house, and there could be +entertained against them no suspicion of having acted with evil +intent. + +"Do you know, father," said Oliver, after he was rested, had slept and +fed, "I am pretty sure that the scoundrel who attacked me was Captain +Coppinger. I cannot swear. It is many years now since I heard his +voice, and when I did hear it, it was but very occasionally. What made +me suspect at the time that I was struggling with Captain Cruel was +that he had my head back over the gunwale and called for an axe, +swearing that he would treat me like Wyvill. That story was new when I +left home, and folk said that Coppinger had killed the man." + +Mr. Menaida fidgeted. + +"That was the man who was at the head of the entire gang. He it was +who issued the orders which the rest obeyed; and he, moreover, was the +man who required the passengers to deliver up their purses and +valuables before he allowed them to enter the boat." + +"Between ourselves," said Uncle Zachie, rubbing his chin and screwing +up his mouth, "between you and me and the poker, I have no doubt about +it, and I could bring his neck into the halter if I chose." + +"Then why do you not, father? The ruffian would not have scrupled to +hack off my head had an axe been handy, or had I waited till he had +got hold of one." + +Mr. Menaida shook his head. + +"There are a deal of things that belong to all things," he said. "I +was on the down with my little pet and idol, Judith, and we had the +lantern, and it was that lantern that proved fatal to your vessel." + +"What, father! We owe our wreck to you?" + +"No, and yet it must be suffered to be so supposed, I must allow many +hard words to be rapped out against me, my want of consideration, my +scatterbrainedness. I admit that I am not a Solomon, but I should not +be such an ass, such a criminal, as on a night like the last to walk +over the downs above the cliffs with a lantern. Nevertheless I cannot +clear myself." + +"Why not?" + +"Because of Judith." + +"I do not understand." + +"I was escorting her home, to her husband's----" + +"Is she married?" + +"'Pon my word, I can't say; half and half----" + +"I do not understand you." + +"I will explain, later," said Mr. Menaida. "It's a perplexing +question, and though I was brought up at the law, upon my word I can't +say how the law would stand in the matter." + +"But how about the false lights?" + +"I am coming to that. When the Preventive men came on us, led by +Scantlebray--and why he was with them, and what concern it was of his, +I don't know--when the guard found us, it is true Judith had the +lantern, but it was under her cloak." + +"We, however, saw the light for some time." + +"Yes, but neither she nor I showed it. We had not brought a light with +us. We knew that it would be wrong to do so, but we came on someone +driving an ass with a lantern affixed to the head of the brute." + +"Then say so." + +"I cannot--that person was Judith's brother." + +"But he is an idiot." + +"He was sent out with the light." + +"Well, then, that person who sent him will be punished and the silly +boy will come off scot free." + +"I cannot--he who sent the boy was Judith's husband." + +"Judith's husband! Who is that?" + +"Captain Coppinger." + +"Well, what of that? The man is a double-dyed villain. He ought to be +brought to justice. Consider the crimes of which he has been guilty. +Consider what he has done this past night. I cannot see, father, that +merely because you esteem a young person, who may be very estimable, +we should let a consummate scoundrel go free, solely because he is her +husband. He has brought a fine ship to wreck, he has produced much +wretchedness and alarm. Indeed, he has been the occasion of some lives +being lost, for one or two of the sailors, thinking we were going to +Davy Jones's locker, got drunk and were carried overboard. Then, +consider, he robbed some of the unhappy, frightened women as they were +escaping. Bless me!" Oliver sprang up and paced the room. "It makes +my blood seethe. The fellow deserves no consideration. Give him up to +justice; let him be hung or transported." + +Mr. Menaida passed his hand through his hair, and lit his pipe. + +"'Pon my word," said he, "there's a good deal to be said on your +side--and yet----" + +"There is everything to be said on my side," urged Oliver, with +vehemence. "The man is engaged on his nefarious traffic. Winter is +setting in. He will wreck other vessels as well, and if you spare him +now, then the guilt of causing the destruction of other vessels and +the loss of more lives will rest in a measure on you." + +"And yet," pleaded Menaida, senior, "I don't know--I don't like--you +see----" + +"You are moved by a little sentiment for Miss Judith Trevisa, or--I +beg her pardon--Mrs. Cruel Coppinger. But it is a mistake, father. If +you had had this sentimental regard for her, and value for her, you +should not have suffered her to marry such a scoundrel, past +redemption." + +"I could not help it. I told her that the man was bad--that is to +say--I believed he was a smuggler, and that he was generally credited +with being a wrecker as well. But there were other influences--other +forces at work--I could not help it." + +"The sooner we can rid her of this villain the better," persisted +Oliver. "I cannot share your scruples, father." + +Then the door opened and Judith entered. + +Oliver stood up. He had reseated himself on the opposite side of the +fire to his father, after the ebullition of wrath that had made him +pace the room. + +He saw before him a delicate, girlish figure--a child in size and in +innocence of face, but with a woman's force of character in the brow, +clear eyes, and set mouth. She was ivory white; her golden hair was +spread out about her face--blown by the wind, it was a veritable halo, +such as is worn by an angel of La Fiesole in Cimabue. Her long, +slender, white throat was bare; she had short sleeves, to the elbows, +and bare arms. Her stockings were white, under the dark-blue gown. +Oliver Menaida had spent a good many years in Portugal, and had seen +flat faces, sallow complexions, and dark hair--women without delicacy +of bone and grace of figure--and, on his return to England, the first +woman he saw was Judith--this little, pale, red-gold-headed creature, +with eyes iridescent and full of a soul that made them sparkle and +change color with every change of emotion in the heart and of thought +in the busy brain. + +Oliver was a fine man, tall, with a bright and honest face, fair hair, +and blue eyes. He started back from his seat and looked at this +child-bride who entered his father's cottage. He knew at once who she +was, from the descriptions he had received of her from his father in +letters from home. + +He did not understand how she had become the wife of Cruel Coppinger. +He had not heard the story from his father, still less could he +comprehend the enigmatical words of his father relative to her +half-and-half marriage. As now he looked on this little figure, that +breathed an atmosphere of perfect purity, of untouched innocence, and +yet not mixed with that weakness which so often characterizes +innocence--on the contrary blended with a strength and force beyond +her years--Oliver's heart rose with a bound and smote against his +ribs. He was overcome with a qualm of infinite pity for this poor, +little, fragile being, whose life was linked with that of one so +ruthless as Coppinger. Looking at that anxious face, at those lustrous +eyes, set in lids that were reddened with weeping, he knew that the +iron had entered into her soul, that she had suffered and was +suffering then; nay, more, that the life opening before her would be +one of almost unrelieved contrariety and sorrow. + +At once he understood his father's hesitation when he urged him to +increase the load of shame and trouble that lay on her. He could not +withdraw his eyes from Judith. She was to him a vision so wonderful, +so strange, so thrilling, so full of appeal to his admiration and to +his chivalry. + +"Here, Ju! here is my Oliver, of whom I have told you so much!" said +Menaida, running up to Judith. "Oliver, boy! she has read your +letters, and I believe they gave her almost as great pleasure as they +did me. She was always interested in you. I mean ever since she came +into my house, and we have talked together about you, and upon my +word it really seemed as if you were to her as a brother." + +A faint smile came on Judith's face; she held out her hand and said: + +"Yes, I have come to love your dear father, who has been to me so +kind, and to Jamie also; he has been full of thought--I mean kindness. +What has interested him has interested me. I call him uncle, so I will +call you cousin. May it be so?" + +He touched her hand; he did not dare to grasp the frail, slender white +hand. But as he touched it, there boiled up in his heart a rage +against Coppinger, that he--this man steeped in iniquity--should have +obtained possession of a pearl set in ruddy gold--a pearl that he was, +so thought Oliver, incapable of appreciating. + +"How came you here?" asked Judith. "Your father has been expecting you +some time, but not so soon." + +"I am come off the wreck." + +She started back and looked fixedly on him. + +"What--you were wrecked?--in that ship last night?" + +"Yes. After the fog lifted we were quite lost as to where we were, and +ran aground." + +"What led you astray?" + +"Our own bewilderment and ignorance as to where we were." + +"And you got ashore?" + +"Yes. I was put across by the Preventive men. I spent half the night +on Doom Bar." + +"Were any lives lost?" + +"Only those lost their lives who threw them away. Some tipsy sailors, +who got at the spirits, and drank themselves drunk." + +"And--did any others--I mean did any wreckers come to your ship?" + +"Salvors? Yes; salvors came to save what could be saved. That is +always so." + +Judith drew a long breath of relief; but she could not forget Jamie +and the ass. + +"You were not led astray by false lights?" + +"Any lights we might have seen were sure to lead us astray, as we did +not in the least know where we were." + +"Thank you," said Judith. Then she turned to Uncle Zachie. + +"I have a favor to ask of you." + +"Anything you ask I will do." + +"It is to let Jamie live here, he is more likely to be well employed, +less likely to get in wrong courses, than at the Glaze. Alas! I cannot +be with him always and everywhere, and I cannot trust him there. Here +he has his occupation; he can help you with the birds. There he has +nothing, and the men he meets are not such as I desire that he should +associate with. Besides, you know, uncle, what occurred last night, +and why I am anxious to get him away." + +"Yes," answered the old man; "I'll do my best. He shall be welcome +here." + +"Moreover, Captain Coppinger dislikes him. He might in a fit of anger +maltreat him; I cannot say that he _would_, but he makes no +concealment of his dislike." + +"Send Jamie here." + +"And then I can come every day and see him, how he is getting on, and +can encourage him with his work, and give him his lessons as usual." + +"It will always be a delight to me to have you here." + +"And to me--to come." She might have said, "to be away from Pentyre," +but she refrained from saying that. With a faint smile--a smile that +was but the twinkle of a tear--she held out her hand to say farewell. + +Uncle Zachie clasped it, and then, suddenly, she bent and kissed his +hand. + +"You must not do that," said he, hastily. + +She looked piteously into his eyes, and said, in a whisper that he +alone could hear--"I am so lonely." + +When she was gone the old man returned to the ingle nook and resumed +his pipe. He did not speak, but every now and then he put one finger +furtively to his cheek, wiped off something, and drew very vigorous +whiffs of tobacco. + +Nor was Oliver inclined to speak; he gazed dreamily into the fire, +with contracted brows, and hands that were clenched. + +A quarter of an hour thus passed. Then Oliver looked up at his father, +and said: "There is worse wrecking than that of ships. Can nothing be +done for this poor little craft, drifting in fog--aimless!--and going +on to the rocks?" + +Uncle Zachie again wiped his cheek, and in his thoughtlessness wiped +it with the bowl of his pipe and burnt himself. He shook his head. + +"Now tell me what you meant when you said she was but half married," +said Oliver. + +Then his father related to him the circumstances of Judith's forced +engagement, and of the incomplete marriage of the day before. + +"By my soul!" exclaimed Oliver. "He must--he shall not treat her as he +did our vessel." + +"Oh, Oliver! if I had had my way--I had designed her for you." + +"For me!" + +Oliver bent his head and looked hard into the fire, where strange +forms of light were dancing--dancing and disappearing. + +Then Mr. Menaida said, between his whiffs: "Surely a change of wind, +Oliver. A little while ago, and she was not to be considered; justice +above all, and Judith sacrificed, if need be--now it is Judith above +all." + +"Yes," musingly, "above all." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +A FIRST LIE. + + +As a faithful, as a loving wife almost, did Judith attend to Coppinger +for the day or two before he was himself again. He had been bruised, +that was all. The waves had driven him against the boat, and he had +been struck by an oar; but the very fact that he was driven against +the boat had proved his salvation, for he was drawn on board, and his +own men carried him swiftly to the bank, and, finding him unable to +walk, conveyed him home. On reaching home a worse blow than that of +the oar had struck him, and struck him on the heart, and it was dealt +him by his wife. She bade him put away from him for ever the +expectation, the hope, of her becoming his in more than name. + +Pain and disappointment made him irritable. He broke out into angry +complaint, and Judith had much to endure. She did not answer him. She +had told him her purpose, and she would neither be bullied nor cajoled +to alter it. + +Judith had much time to herself; she wandered through the rooms of +Pentyre during the day without encountering anyone, and then strolled +on the cliffs; wherever she went she carried her trouble with her, +gnawing at her heart. There was no deliverance for her, and she did +not turn her mind in that direction. She would remain what she +was--Coppinger's half-wife, a wife without a wedding-ring, united to +him by a most dubiously legal ceremony. She bore his name, she was +content to do that; she must bear with his love turned to fury by +disappointment. She would do that till it died away before her firm +and unchangeable opposition. + +"What will be said," growled Coppinger, "when it is seen that you wear +no ring?" + +"I will wear my mother's, and turn the stone within," answered Judith, +"then it will be like our marriage, a semblance, nothing more." + +She did appear next day with a ring. When the hand was closed, it +looked like a plain gold wedding hoop. When she opened and turned her +hand, it was apparent that within was a small brilliant. A modest +ring, a very inexpensive one, that her father had given to her mother +as a guard. Modest and inexpensive because his purse could afford no +better; not because he would not have given her the best diamonds +available, had he possessed the means to purchase them. + +This ring had been removed from the dead finger of her mother, and Mr. +Peter Trevisa had preserved it as a present for the daughter. + +Almost every day Judith went to Polzeath to give lessons to Jamie, and +to see how the boy was going on. Jamie was happy with Mr. Menaida, he +liked a little desultory work, and Oliver was kind to him, took him +walks, and talked to him of scenes in Portugal. + +Very often, indeed, did Judith, when she arrived, find Oliver at his +father's. He would sometimes sit through the lesson, often attend her +back to the gate of Pentyre. His conduct toward her was deferential, +tinged with pity. She could see in his eyes, read in his manner of +address, that he knew her story, and grieved for her, and would do +anything he could to release her from her place of torment, if he knew +how. But he never spoke to her of Coppinger, never of her marriage, +and the peculiar features that attended it. She often ventured on the +topic of the wreck, and he saw that she was probing him to discover +the truth concerning it, but he on no occasion allowed himself to say +anything that could give her reason to believe her husband was the +cause of the ship being lost, nor did he tell her of his own desperate +conflict with the wrecker captain on board the vessel. + +He was a pleasant companion, cheerful and entertaining. Having been +abroad, though not having travelled widely, he could tell much about +Portugal, and something about Spain. Judith's eager mind was greedy +after information, and it diverted her thoughts from painful topics to +hear and talk about orange and lemon groves, the vineyards, the +flower-gardens, the manners and customs of the people of Portugal, to +see sketches of interesting places, and of the costumes of the +peasantry. What drew her to Oliver specially was, however, his +consideration for Jamie, to whom he was always kind, and whom he was +disposed to amuse. + +The wreck of the merchantman on Doom Bar had caused a great commotion +among the inhabitants of Cornwall. All the gentry, clergy, and the +farmers and yeomen not immediately on the coast, felt that wrecking +was not only a monstrous act of inhumanity, but was a scandal to the +county, and ought to be peremptorily suppressed, and those guilty of +it brought to justice. It was currently reported that the merchantman +from Oporto was wilfully wrecked, and that an attempt had been made to +rob and plunder the passengers and the vessel. But the evidence in +support of this view was of little force. The only persons who had +been found with a light on the cliffs were Mr. Menaida, whom every one +respected for his integrity, and Judith, the daughter of the late +rector of St. Enodoc, the most strenuous and uncompromising denouncer +of wrecking. No one, however malicious, could believe either to be +guilty of more than imprudence. + +The evidence as to the attempt of wreckers to invade the ship, and +plunder it and the passengers also broke down. One lady alone could +swear that her purse had been forcibly taken from her. The Portuguese +men could hardly understand English, and though she asserted that she +had been asked for money, she could not say that anything had been +taken from her. It was quite possible that she had misunderstood an +order given her to descend into the boat. + +The night had been dark, the lady who had been robbed could not swear +to the identity of the man who had taken her purse, she could not even +say that it was one of those who had come to the vessel, and was not +one of the crew. The crew had behaved notoriously badly, some had been +drunk, and it was possible that one of these fellows, flushed with +spirits, had demanded and taken her money. + +There were two or three St. Enodoc men arrested because found on the +ship at the time, but they persisted in the declaration that, hearing +signals of distress, they had kindled a light and set it in the tower +window of the church as a guide to the shipwrecked, and had gone to +the vessel aground on Doom Bar, with the intention of offering every +assistance in their power to the castaways. They asserted that they +had found the deck in confusion. The seamen drunk and lost to +discipline, the passengers helpless and frightened, and that it was +only owing to them that some sort of order was brought about, or +attempted. The arrival of the coast-guard interfered with their +efforts to be useful. + +The magistrates were constrained to dismiss the case, although +possessed with the moral conviction that the matter was not as the +accused represented. The only person who could have given evidence +that might have consigned them to prison was Oliver, and he was not +called upon to give witness. + +But, although the case had broken down completely, an uneasy and angry +feeling prevailed. People were not convinced that the wreck was +accidental, and they believed that but for the arrival of the guard, +the passengers would have been robbed and the ship looted. It was true +enough that a light had been exhibited from St. Enodoc tower, but that +served as a guide to those who rushed upon the wreck, and was every +whit as much to their advantage as to that of the shipwrecked men. +For, suppose that the crew and passengers had got off in their boats, +they would have made, naturally, for the light, and who could say but +that a gang of ruffians was not waiting on the shore to plunder them +as they landed. + +The general feeling in the county was one of vexation that more prompt +action had not been taken, or that the action taken had not been more +successful. No man showed this feeling more fully than Mr. +Scantlebray, who hunted with the coast-guard for his own ends, and who +had felt sanguine that in this case Coppinger would be caught. + +That Coppinger was at the bottom of the attempt, which had been partly +successful, few doubted, and yet there was not a shadow of proof +against him. But that, according to common opinion, only showed how +deep was his craft. + +The state of Judith's mind was also one of unrest. She had a +conviction seated in her heart that all was not right, and yet she had +no sound cause for charging her husband with being a deliberate +wrecker. Jamie had gone out with his ass and the lantern, that was +true, but was Jamie's account of the affair to be relied on? When +questioned he became confused. He never could be trusted to recall, +twenty-four hours after an event, the particulars exactly as they +occurred. Any suggestive queries drew him aside, and without an intent +to deceive he would tell what was a lie, simply because he could not +distinguish between realities and fleeting impressions. She knew that +if she asked him whether Coppinger had fastened the lantern to the +head of his donkey, and had bidden him drive the creature slowly up +and down the inequalities of the surface of the cliffs, he would +assent, and say it was so; but, then, if she were to say to him, "Now, +Jamie, did not Captain Coppinger tell you on no account to show the +light till you reached the shore at St. Enodoc, and then to fix it +steadily," that his face would for a moment assume a vacant, then a +distressed expression, and he would finally say that he believed it +really was so. No reliance was to be placed on anything he said, +except at the moment, and not always then. He was liable to +misunderstand directions, and by a stupid perversity to act exactly +contrary to the instructions given him. + +Judith heard nothing of the surmises that floated in the neighborhood, +but she knew enough to be uneasy. She had been somewhat reassured by +Oliver Menaida; she could see no reason why he should withhold the +truth from her. Was it, then, possible after all that Captain +Coppinger had gone to the rescue of the wrecked people, that he had +sent the light not to mislead, but to direct them aright? + +It was Judith's fate--so it seemed--to be never certain whether to +think the worst of Coppinger, or to hold that he had been misjudged by +her. He had been badly hurt in his attempt to rescue the crew and +passengers--according to Aunt Dionysia's account. If she were to +believe this story, then he was deserving of respect. + +Judith began to recover some of her cheerfulness, some of her +freshness of looks. This was due to the abatement of her fears. +Coppinger had angrily, sullenly, accepted the relation which she had +assured him must subsist between them, and which could never be +altered. + +Aunt Dionysia was peevish and morose indeed. She had been disappointed +in her hope of getting into Othello Cottage before Christmas; but she +had apparently received a caution from Coppinger not to exhibit +ill-will toward his wife by word or token, and she restrained +herself, though with manifest effort. That sufficed Judith. She no +longer looked for, cared for love from her aunt. It satisfied her if +Miss Trevisa left her unmolested. + +Moreover, Judith enjoyed the walk to Polzeath every day, and, somehow, +the lessons to Jamie gave her an interest that she had never found in +them before. Oliver was so helpful. When Jamie was stubborn, he +persuaded him with a joke or a promise to laugh and put aside his +ill-humor, and attack the task once more. The little gossiping talk +after the lesson with Oliver, or with Oliver and his father, was a +delight to her. She looked forward to it, from day to day, naturally, +reasonably, for at the Glaze she had no one with whom to converse, no +one with the same general interests as herself, the same knowledge of +books, and pleasure in the acquisition of information. + +On mountain sides there are floral zones. The rhododendron and the +gentian luxuriate at a certain level, above is the zone of the blue +hippatica, the soldanella, and white crocus; below is the belt of +mealy primula and lilac clematis. So is it in the world of minds--they +have their levels, and can only live on those levels. Transplant them +to a higher or to a lower zone and they suffer, and die. + +Judith found no one at Pentyre with whom she could associate with +pleasure. It was only when she was at Polzeath with Uncle Zachie and +Oliver that she could talk freely and feel in her element. + +One day Oliver said to her, "Judith"--for, on the understanding that +they were cousins, they called each other by their Christian +names--"Judith! are you going to the ball at Wadebridge after +Christmas?" + +"Ball, Oliver, what ball?" + +"That which Mr. Mules is giving for the restoration of his church." + +"I do not know. I--yes, I have heard of it; but I had clean forgotten +all about it. I had rather not." + +"But you must, and promise me three dances, at least." + +"I do not know what to say. Captain Coppinger"--she never spoke of her +husband by his Christian name, never thought of him as other than +Captain Coppinger. Did she think of Oliver as Mr. Menaida, junior? +"Captain Coppinger has not said anything to me about it of late. I do +not wish to go. My dear father's death----" + +"But the dance is after Christmas. And, you know, it is for a sacred +purpose. Think, every whirl you take puts a new stone on the +foundations, and every setting to your partner in quadrille adds a +pane of glass to the battered windows." + +"I do not know," again said Judith, and became grave. Her heart +fluttered. She would like to be at the ball--and dance three dances +with Oliver--but would Captain Coppinger suffer her? Would he expect +to dance with her all the evening? If that were so, she would not like +to go. "I really do not know," again she said, clasped her hands on +her knees, and sighed. + +"Why that sigh, Judith?" + +She looked up, dropped her eyes in confusion, and said faintly, "I do +not know," and that was her first lie. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +THE DIAMOND BUTTERFLY. + + +Poor little fool! Shrewd in maintaining her conflict with Cruel +Coppinger--always on the defensive, ever on guard, she was sliding +unconsciously, without the smallest suspicion of danger, into a state +that must eventually make her position more desperate and intolerable. +In her inexperience she had never supposed that her own heart could be +a traitor within the city walls. She took pleasure in the society of +Oliver, and thought no wrong in so doing. She liked him, and would +have reproached herself had she not done so. + +Her relations with Coppinger remained strained. He was a good deal +from home; indeed, he went on a cruise in his vessel, the Black +Prince, and was absent for a month. He hoped that in his absence she +might come to a better mind. They met, when he was at home, at meals; +at other times not at all. He went his way, she went hers. Whether the +agitation of men's minds relative to the loss of the merchantman, and +the rumors concerning the manner of its loss, had made Captain Cruel +think it were well for him to absent himself for a while, till they +had blown away, or whether he thought that his business required his +attention elsewhere, or that by being away from home his wife might be +the readier to welcome him, and come out of her vantage castle, and +lay down her arms, cannot be said for certain; probably all these +motives combined to induce him to leave Pentyre for five or six weeks. + +While he was away Judith was lighter in heart. He returned shortly +before Christmas, and was glad to see her more like her old self, with +cheeks rounder, less livid, eyes less sunken, less like those of a +hunted beast, and with a step that had resumed its elasticity. But he +did not find her more disposed to receive him with affection as a +husband. He thought that probably some change in the monotony of life +at Pentyre might be of advantage, and he somewhat eagerly entered into +the scheme for the ball at Wadebridge. She had been kept to books and +to the society of her father too much, in days gone by, and had become +whimsical and prudish. She must learn some of the enjoyments of life, +and then she would cling to the man who opened to her a new sphere of +happiness. + +"Judith," said he, "we will certainly go to this ball. It will be a +pleasant one. As it is for a charitable purpose, all the neighborhood +will be there. Squire Humphrey Prideaux of Prideaux Place, the +Matthews of Roscarrock, the Molesworths of Pencarrow, and every one +worth knowing in the country round for twelve miles. But you will be +the queen of the ball." + +Judith at first thought of appearing at the dance in her simplest +evening dress; she was shy and did not desire to attract attention. +Her own position was anomalous, because that of Coppinger was +anomalous. He passed as a gentleman in a part of the country not very +exacting that the highest culture should prevail in the upper region +of society. He had means, and he owned a small estate. But no one knew +whence he came, or what was the real source whence he derived his +income. Suspicion attached to him as engaged in both smuggling and +wrecking, neither of which were regarded as professions consonant with +gentility. The result of this uncertainty relative to Coppinger was +that he was not received into the best society. The gentlemen knew him +and greeted him in the hunting-field, and would dine with him at his +house. The ladies, of course, had never been invited, because he was +an unmarried man. The gentlemen probably had dealings with him about +which they said nothing to their wives. It is certain that the Bodmin +wine-merchant grumbled that the great houses of the north of Cornwall +did not patronize him as they ought, and that no wine-merchant was +ever able to pick up a subsistence at Wadebridge. Yet the country +gentry were by no means given to temperance, and their cellars were +being continually refilled. + +It was not their interest to be on bad terms with Coppinger, one must +conjecture, for they went somewhat out of their way to be civil to +him. + +Coppinger knew this, and thought that now he was married an +opportunity had come in this charity ball for the introduction of +Judith to society, and that to the best society, and he trusted to her +merits and beauty, and to his own influence with the gentlemen, to +obtain for her admission to the houses of the neighborhood. As the +daughter of the Rev. Peter Trevisa, who had been universally +respected, not only as a gentleman and a scholar, but also as a +representative of an ancient Cornish family of untold antiquity, she +had a perfect right to be received into the highest society of +Cornwall, but her father had been a reserved and poor man. He did not +himself care for associating with fox-hunting and sporting squires, +nor would he accept invitations when he was unable to return them. +Consequently Judith had gone about very little when at St. Enodoc +rectory. Moreover, she had been but a child, and was known only by +name to those who lived in the neighborhood. She was personally +acquainted with none of the county people. + +Captain Cruel had small doubt but that, the ice once broken, Judith +would make friends, and would be warmly received. The neighborhood was +scantily peppered over with county family-seats, and the families +found the winters tedious, and were glad of any accession to their +acquaintance, and of another house opened to them for entertainment. + +If Judith were received well, and found distraction from her morbid +and fantastic thoughts, then she would be grateful to him--so thought +Coppinger--grateful for having brought her into a more cheerful and +bright condition of life than that in which she had been reared. +Following thereon, her aversion for him, or shyness toward him, would +give way. + +And Judith--what were her thoughts? Her mind was a little fluttered, +she had to consider what to wear. At first she would go simply clad, +then her aunt insisted that, as a bride, she must appear in suitable +garb, that in which she had been married, not that with the two +sleeves for one side, which had been laid by. Then the question of the +jewellery arose. Judith did not wish to wear it, but yielded to her +aunt's advice. Miss Trevisa represented to her that, having the +diamonds, she ought to wear them, and that not to wear them would hurt +and offend Captain Coppinger, who had given them to her. This she was +reluctant to do. However, she consented to oblige and humor him in +such a small matter. + +The night arrived, and Judith was dressed for the ball. Never before +had Coppinger seen her in evening costume, and his face beamed with +pride as he looked on her in her white silk dress, with ornaments of +white satiny bugles in sprigs edging throat and sleeves, and forming a +rich belt about the waist. She wore the diamond butterfly in her +bosom, and the two earrings to match. A little color was in her +delicately pure cheeks, brought there by excitement. She had never +been at a ball before, and with an innocent, childish simplicity she +wondered what Oliver Menaida would think of her in her ball-dress. + +Judith and Coppinger arrived somewhat late, and most of those who had +taken tickets were already there. Sir William and Lady Molesworth were +there, and the half-brother of Sir William, John Molesworth, rector of +St. Breock, and his wife, the daughter of Sir John S. Aubyn. With the +baronet and his lady had come a friend, staying with them at +Pencarrow, and Lady Knighton, wife of an Indian judge. The Matthews +were there; the Tremaynes came all the way from Heligan, as owning +property in St. Enodoc, and so, in duty bound to support the charity; +the Prideauxs were there from Place; and many, if not all, of the +gentry of various degrees who resided within twelve to fifteen miles +of Wadebridge were also there. + +The room was not one of any interest, it was long, had a good floor, +which is the main thing considered by dancers, a gallery at one end +for the instrumentalists, and a draught which circulated round the +walls, and cut the throats of the old ladies who acted as wall-fruit. +There was, however, a room to which they could adjourn to play cards. +And many of the dowagers and old maids had brought with them little +silver linked purses in which was as much money as they had made up +their minds to lose that evening. + +The dowager Lady Molesworth in a red turban was talking to Lady +Knighton, a lady who had been pretty, but whose complexion had been +spoiled by Indian suns, and to her Sir William was offering a cup of +tea. + +"You see," said Lady Knighton, "how tremulous my hand is. I have been +like this for some years--indeed ever since I was in this neighborhood +before." + +"I did not know you had honored us with a visit on a previous +occasion," said Sir William. + +"It was very different from the present, I can assure you," answered +the lady. "Now it is voluntarily--then it was much the contrary. Now I +have come among very dear and kind friends, then--I fell among +thieves." + +"Indeed!" + +"It was on my return from India," said Lady Knighton. "Look at my +hand!" She held forth her arm, and showed how it shook as with palsy. +"This hand was firm then. I even played several games of spellikins on +board ship on the voyage home, and, Sir William, I won invariably, so +steady was my hold of the crook, so evenly did I raise each of the +little sticks. But ever since then I have had this nervous tremor that +makes me dread holding anything." + +"But how came it about?" asked the baronet. + +"I will tell you, but--who is that just entered the room?" she pointed +with trembling finger. + +Judith had come in along with Captain Coppinger, and stood near the +door, the light of the wax candles twinkling in her bugles, glancing +in flashes from her radiant hair. She was looking about her, and her +bosom heaved, she sought Oliver, and he was near at hand. A flush of +pleasure sprang into her cheeks as she caught his eye, and held out +her hand. + +"I demand my dance!" said he. + +"No, not the first, Oliver," she answered. + +Coppinger's brows knit. + +"Who is this?" he asked. + +"Oh! do you not know? Mr. Menaida's son, Mr. Oliver." + +The two men's eyes met, their irises contracted. + +"I think we have met before," said Oliver. + +"That is possible," answered Captain Cruel, contemptuously, looking in +another direction. + +"When we met I knew you without your knowing me," pursued the young +man, in a voice that shook with anger. He had recognized the tone of +the voice that had spoken on the wreck. + +"Of that I, neither, have any doubt as to its possibility. I do not +recollect every Jack I encounter." + +A moment after an idea struck him, and he turned his head sharply, +fixed his eyes on young Menaida, and said, "Where did we meet?" + +"'Encounter' was your word." + +"Very well--encounter!" + +"On Doom Bar." + +Coppinger's color changed. A sinister flicker came into his sombre +eyes. + +"Then," said he slowly, in low vibrating tones, "we shall meet again." + +"Certainly, we shall meet again, and conclude our--I use your +term--'encounter.'" + +Judith did not hear the conversation. She had been pounced upon by Mr. +Desiderius Mules. + +"Now--positively I must walk through a quadrille with you," said the +rector. "This is all my affair; it all springs from me, I arranged +everything. I beat up patrons and patronesses. I stirred up the +neighborhood. It all turns as a wheel about me as the axle. Come +along, the band is beginning to play. You shall positively walk +through a quadrille with me." Mr. Mules was not the man to be put on +one side, not one to accept a refusal; he carried off the bride to the +head of the room and set her in one square. + +"Look at the decorations," said Mr. Mules, "I designed them. I hope +you will like the supper. I drew up the _menu_. I chose the wines, and +I know they are good. The candles I got at wholesale price--because +for a charity. What beautiful diamonds you are wearing. They are not +paste, I suppose?" + +"I believe not." + +"Yet good old paste is just as iridescent as real diamonds. Where did +you get them? Are they family jewels? I have heard that the Trevisas +were great people at one time. Well, so were the Mules. We are really +De Moels. We came in with the Conqueror. That is why I have such a +remarkable Christian name. Desiderius is the French Désiré, and a +Norman Christian name. Look at the wreaths of laurel and holly. How do +you like them?" + +"The decorations are charming." + +"I am so pleased that you have come," pursued Mr. Mules. "It is your +first appearance in public as Mrs. Captain Coppinger. I have been +horribly uncomfortable about--you remember what. I have been afraid I +had put my foot into it, and might get into hot water. But now you +have come here, it is all right; it shows me that you are coming +round to a sensible view, and that to-morrow you will be at the +rectory and sign the register. If inconvenient, I will run up with it +under my arm to the Glaze. At what time am I likely to catch you both +in? The witnesses, Miss Trevisa and Mr. Menaida, one can always get +at. Perhaps you will speak to your aunt and see that she is on the +spot, and I'll take the old fellow on my way home." + +"Mr. Mules, we will not talk of that now." + +"Come! you must see, and be introduced to, Lady Molesworth." + +In the meanwhile Lady Knighton was telling her story to a party round +her. + +"I was returning with my two children from India; it is now some years +ago. It is so sad, in the case of Indians, either the parents must +part from their children, or the mother must take her children to +England and be parted from her husband. I brought my little ones back +to be with my husband's sister, who kindly undertook to see to them. +We encountered a terrible gale as we approached this coast; do you +recollect the loss of the Andromeda?" + +"Perfectly," answered Sir William Molesworth; "were you in that?" + +"Yes, to my cost. One of my darlings so suffered from the exposure +that she died. But, really, I do not think it was the wreck of the +vessel which was worst. It was not that, not that alone, which brought +this nervous tremor on me." + +"I remember that case," said Sir William. "It was a very bad one, and +disgraceful to our county. We have recently had an ugly story of a +wreck on Doom Bar, with suspicion of evil practices; but nothing could +be proved, nothing brought home to anyone. In the case of the +Andromeda there was something of the same sort." + +"Yes, indeed, there were evil practices. I was robbed." + +"You! surely, Lady Knighton, it was not of you that the story was +told?" + +"If you mean the story of the diamonds, it was," answered the Indian +lady. "We had to leave the wreck, and carry all our portable valuables +with us. I had a set of jewellery of Indian work, given me by Sir +James--well, he was only plain Mr. Knighton then. It was rather +quaint in design: there was a brooch representing a butterfly, and two +emeralds formed the----" + +"Excuse me one moment, Lady Knighton," said Sir William. "Here comes +the new rector of St. Enodoc, with the bride, to introduce her to my +wife. I am ashamed to say we have not made her acquaintance before." + +"Bride! what--his bride?" + +"Oh, no; the bride of a certain Captain Coppinger, who lives near +here." + +"She is pretty, very pretty; but how delicate!" + +Suddenly Lady Knighton sprang to her feet, with an exclamation so +shrill and startling that the dancers ceased, and the conductor of the +band, thinking an accident had occurred, with his baton stopped the +music. All attention was drawn to Lady Knighton, who, erect, trembling +from head to foot, stood pointing with shaking finger to Judith. + +"See! see! My jewels, that were torn from me! Look!" She lifted the +hair, worn low over her cheeks, and displayed one ear; the lobe was +torn away. + +No one stirred in the ball-room; no one spoke. The fiddler stood with +bow suspended over the strings, the flutist with fingers on all stops. +Every eye was fixed on Judith. It was still in that room as though a +ghost had passed through in winding-sheet. In this hush, Lady Knighton +approached Judith, pointing still with trembling hand. + +"I demand, whence comes that brooch? Where--from whom did you get +those earrings? They are mine; given me in India by my husband. They +are Indian work, and not to be mistaken. They were plucked from me one +awful night of wreck by a monster in human form, who came to our +vessel, as we sought to leave it, and robbed us of our treasures. +Answer me--who gave you those jewels?" + +Judith was speechless. The lights in the room died to feeble stars. +The floor rolled like a sea under her feet; the ceiling was coming +down on her. + +She heard whispers, murmurs--a humming as of a swarm of bees +approaching ready to settle on her and sting her. She looked round +her. Every one had withdrawn from her. Mr. Desiderius Mules had +released her arm, and stood back. She tried to speak, but could not. +Should she make the confession which would incriminate her husband? + +Then she heard a man's deep voice, heard a step on the floor. In a +moment an arm was round her, sustaining her, as she tottered. + +"I gave her the jewels. I, Curll Coppinger, of Pentyre. If you ask +where I got them--I will tell you. I bought them of Willy Mann, the +pedlar. I will give you any further information you require to-morrow. +Make room; my wife is frightened." + +Then, holding her, looking haughtily, threateningly, from side to +side, Coppinger helped Judith along--the whole length of the +ball-room--between rows of astonished, open-eyed, mute dancers. Near +the door was a knot of gentlemen. They sprang apart, and Coppinger +conveyed Judith through the door, out of the light, down the stairs, +into the open air. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +A DEAD-LOCK. + + +The incident of the jewellery of Lady Knighton occasioned much talk. +On the evening of the ball it occupied the whole conversation, as the +sole topic on which tongues could run and brains work. I say tongues +run and brains work and not brains work and tongues run, for the +former is the natural order in chatter. It was a subject that was +thrashed by a hundred tongues of the dancers. Then it was turned over +and rethrashed. Then it was winnowed. The chaff of the tale was blown +into the kitchens and servants' halls, it drifted into tap-rooms, +where the coachmen and grooms congregated and drank; and there it was +rethrashed and rewinnowed. + +On the day following the ball, the jewels were returned to Lady +Knighton, with a courteous letter from Captain Coppinger, to say that +he had obtained them through the well-known Willy Mann, a pedlar who +did commissions for the neighborhood, who travelled from Exeter along +the south coast of Devon and Cornwall, and returned along the north +coast of both counties. + +Everyone had made use of this fellow to do commissions, and +trustworthy he had always proved. That was not a time when there was a +parcels' post, and few could afford the time and the money to run at +every requirement to the great cities, where were important shops when +they required what could not be obtained in small country towns. He +had been employed to match silks, to choose carpets, to bring +medicines, to select jewellery, to convey love-letters. + +But Willy Mann had, unfortunately, died a month ago, having fallen off +a wagon and broken his neck. + +Consequently it was not possible to follow up any further the traces +of the diamond butterflies. Willy Mann, as was well known, had been a +vehicle for conveying sundry valuables from ladies who had lost money +at cards, and wanted to recoup by parting with bracelets and +brooches. That he may have received stolen goods and valuables +obtained from wrecks was also probable. + +So, after all the thrashing and winnowing, folks were no wiser than +before, and no nearer the solution of the mystery. Some thought that +Coppinger was guilty, others thought not, and others maintained a +neutral position. Some again thought one thing one day and the +opposite the next, and some always agreed with the last speaker's +views. Whereas others again always took a contrary opinion to those +who discussed the matter with them. + +Moreover, the matter went through a course much like a fever. It +blazed out, was furious, then died away; languor ensued--and it gave +symptoms of disappearing. + +The general mistrust against Coppinger was deepened, certainly, and +the men who had wine and spirits and tobacco through him, resolved to +have wine and spirits and tobacco from him, but nothing more. They +would deal with him as a trader, and not acknowledge him as their +social fellow. The ladies pitied Judith, they professed their respect +for her; but as beds are made so must they be lain on, and as is +cooked so must be eaten. She had married a man whom all mistrusted, +and must suffer accordingly; one who is associated with an infected +patient is certain to be shunned as much as the patient. Such is the +way of the world, and we cannot alter it, as the making of that way +has not been intrusted to us. On the day following the ball, Judith +did not appear at Polzeath, nor again on the day after that. + +Oliver became restless. The cheerful humor, the merry mood that his +father had professed were his, had deserted him. He could not endure +the thought that one so innocent, so child-like as Judith, should have +her fortunes linked to those of a man of whom he knew the worst. He +could not, indeed, swear to his identity with the man on the wreck who +had attempted to rob the passengers, and who had fought with him. He +had no doubt whatever in his own mind that his adversary and assailant +had been Coppinger, but he was led to this identification by nothing +more tangible than the allusion made to Wyvill's death, and a certain +tone of voice which he believed he recognized. The evidence was +insufficient to convict him, of that Oliver was well aware. He was +confident, moreover, that Coppinger was the man who had taken the +jewels from Lady Knighton; but here again he was wholly unsupported by +any sound basis of fact on which his conviction could maintain itself. + +Toward Coppinger he felt an implacable anger, and a keen desire for +revenge. He would like to punish him for that assault on the wreck, +but chiefly for the wrongs done to Judith. She had no champion, no +protector. His father, as he acknowledged to himself, was a broken +reed for one to lean on, a man of good intentions, but of a confused +mind, of weakness of purpose, and lack of energy. The situation of +Judith was a pitiful one, and if she was to be rescued from it, he +must rescue her. But when he came to consider the way and means, he +found himself beset with difficulties. She was married after a +fashion. It was very questionable whether the marriage was legal, but, +nevertheless, it was known through the county that a marriage had +taken place, Judith had gone to Coppinger's house, and had appeared at +the ball as his wife. If he established before the world that the +marriage was invalid, what would she do? How would the world regard +her? Was it possible for him to bring Coppinger to justice? + +Oliver went about instituting inquiries. He endeavored to trace to +their source, the rumors that circulated relative to Coppinger, but +always without finding anything on which he could lay hold. It was +made plain to him that Captain Cruel was but the head of a great +association of men, all involved in illegal practices; men engaged in +smuggling, and ready to make their profit of a wreck, when a wreck +fell in their way. They hung together like bees. Touch one, and the +whole hive swarmed out. They screened one another, were ready to give +testimony before magistrates that would exculpate whoever of the gang +was accused. They evaded every attempt of the coast-guard to catch +them; they laughed at the constables and magistrates. Information was +passed from one to another with incredible rapidity; they had their +spies and their agents along the coast. The magistrates and country +gentry, though strongly reprobating wrecking, and bitterly opposed to +poaching, were of broad and generous views regarding smuggling, and +the preventive officer complained that he did not receive that +support from the squirearchy which he expected and had a right to +demand. + +There were caves along the whole coast, from Land's End to Hartland, +and there were, unquestionably, stores of smuggled goods in a vast +number of places, centres whence they were distributed. When a vessel +engaged in the contraband trade appeared off the coast, and the guard +were on the alert in one place, she ran a few miles up or down, +signalled to shore, and landed her cargo before the coast-guard knew +where she was. They were being constantly deceived by false +information, and led away in one direction while the contraband goods +were being conveyed ashore in an opposite quarter. + +Oliver learned much concerning this during the ensuing few days. He +made acquaintance with the officer in command of the nearest station, +and resolved to keep a close watch on Coppinger, and to do his utmost +to effect his arrest. When Captain Cruel was got out of the way, then +something could be done for Judith. An opportunity came in Oliver's +way of learning tidings of importance, and that when he least expected +it. As already said, he was wont to go about on the cliffs with Jamie, +and after Judith ceased to appear at Mr. Menaida's cottage, in his +unrest he took Jamie much with him, out of consideration for Judith, +who, as he was well aware, would be content to have her brother with +him, and kept thereby out of mischief. + +On one of these occasions he found the boy lag behind, become uneasy, +and at last refuse to go farther. He inquired the reason, and Jamie, +in evident alarm, replied that he dare not--he had been forbidden. + +"By whom?" + +"He said he would throw me over, as he did my doggie, if I came here +again." + +"Who did?" + +"Captain Coppinger." + +"But why?" + +Jamie was frightened, and looked round. + +"I mustn't say," he answered, in a whisper. + +"Must not say what, Jamie?" + +"I was to let no one know about it." + +"About what?" + +"I am afraid to say. He would throw me over. I found it out and +showed it to Ju. I have never been down there since." + +"Captain Coppinger found you somewhere, and forbade your ever going to +that place again?" + +"Yes," in a faltering voice. + +"And threatened to fling you over the cliffs if you did!" + +"Yes," again timidly. + +Oliver said quietly, "Now run home and leave me here." + +"I daren't go by myself. I did not mean to come here." + +"Very well. No one has seen you. Let me see, this wall marks the spot. +I will go back with you." + +Oliver was unusually silent as he walked to Polzeath with Jamie. He +was unwilling further to press the boy. He would probably confuse him, +by throwing him into a paroxysm of alarm. He had gained sufficient +information for his purpose from the few words he let drop. "I have +never been down there since," Jamie had said. There was, then, +something that Coppinger desired should not be generally known +concealed between the point on the cliff where the "new-take" wall +ended and the beach immediately beneath. + +He took Jamie to his father, and got the old man to give him some +setting up of birds to amuse and occupy him, and then returned to the +cliff. It did not take him long to discover the entrance to the cave +beneath, behind the curtain of slate reef, and as he penetrated this +to the farthest point, he was placed in possession of one of the +secrets of Coppinger and his band. + +He did not tarry there, but returned home another way, musing over +what he had learned, and considering what advantage he was to take of +it. A very little thought satisfied him that his wisest course was to +say nothing about what he had learned, and to await the turns of +fortune, and the incautiousness of the smugglers. + +From this time, moreover, he discontinued his visits to the +coast-guard station, which was on the farther side of the estuary of +the Camel, and which could not well be crossed without attracting +attention. There was no trusting anyone, Oliver felt--the boatman who +put him across was very possibly in league with the smugglers, and was +a spy on those who were in communication with the officers of the +revenue. + +Another reason for his cessation of visits was that, on his return to +his father's house, after having explored the cave, and the track in +the face of the cliff leading to it, he heard that Jamie had been +taken away by Coppinger. The Captain had been there during his +absence, and had told Mr. Menaida that Judith was distressed at being +separated from her brother, and that, as there were reasons which made +him desire that she should forego her walks to Polzeath, he, Captain +Coppinger, deemed it advisable to bring Jamie back to Pentyre. + +Oliver asked himself, when he heard this, with some unease, whether +this was due to his having been observed with the boy on the downs +near the place from which access to the cave was had. Also, whether +the boy would be frightened at the appearance of Captain Cruel so soon +after he had approached the forbidden spot, and, in his fear, reveal +that he had been there with Oliver and had partially betrayed the +secret. + +There was another question he was also constrained to ask himself, and +it was one that made the color flash into his cheek. What was the +particular reason why Captain Coppinger objected to the visits of his +wife to Polzeath at that time? Was he jealous? He recalled the flare +in his eyes at the ball, when Judith turned to him, held out her hand, +and called him by his Christian name. + +From this time all communication with Pentyre Glaze was cut off; +tidings relative to Judith and Jamie were not to be had. Judith was +not seen, Aunt Dionysia rarely, and from her nothing was to be +learned. It would hardly comport with discretion for inquiries to be +made by Oliver of the servants of the Glaze; but his father, moved by +Oliver and by his own anxiety, did venture to go to the house and ask +after Judith. He was coldly received by Miss Trevisa, who took the +opportunity to insult him by asking if he had come to have his bill +settled--there being a small account in his favor for Jamie. She paid +him, and sent the old fellow fuming, stamping, even swearing, home, +and as ignorant of the condition of Judith as when he went. He had not +seen Judith, nor had he met Captain Coppinger. He had caught a glimpse +of Jamie in the yard with his donkey, but the moment the boy saw him +he dived into the stable, and did not emerge from it till Uncle Zachie +was gone. + +Then Mr. Menaida, still urged by his son and by his own feelings, +incapable of action unless goaded by these double spurs, went to the +rectory to ask Mr. Mules if he had seen Judith, and whether anything +had been done about the signatures in the register. + +Mr. Desiderius was communicative. + +He had been to Pentyre about the matter. He was, as he said, "in a +stew over it" himself. It was most awkward; he had filled in as much +as he could of the register, and all that lacked were the +signatures--he might say all but that of the bride and Mr. Menaida, +for there had been a scene. Mrs. Coppinger had come down, and, in the +presence of the Captain and her aunt, he had expostulated with her, +had pointed out to her the awkward position in which it placed +himself, the scruple he felt at retaining the fee, when the work was +only half done; how, that by appearing at the ball, she had shown to +the whole neighborhood that she was the wife of Captain Coppinger, and +that, having done this, she might as well append her name to the entry +in the register. Then Captain Coppinger and Miss Trevisa had made the +requisite entries, but Judith had again calmly, but resolutely, +refused. + +Mr. Mules admitted there had been a scene. Mr. Coppinger became angry, +and used somewhat violent words. But nothing that he himself could +say, no representations made by her aunt, no urgency on the part of +her husband could move the resolution of Judith, "which was a bit of +arrant tomfoolery," said Mr. Desiderius, "and I told her so. Even +that--the knowledge that she went down a peg in my estimation--even +that did not move her." + +"And how was she?" asked Mr. Menaida. + +"Obstinate," answered the rector, "obstinate as a--I mean as a donkey, +that is the position of affairs. We are at a dead-lock." + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +TWO LETTERS. + + +Oliver Menaida was summoned to Bristol by the heads of the firm which +he served, and he was there detained for ten days. + +Whilst he was away, Uncle Zachie felt his solitude greatly. Had he had +even Jamie with him he might have been content, but to be left +completely alone was a trial to him, especially since he had become +accustomed to having the young Trevisa in his house. He missed his +music. Judith's playing had been to him an inexpressibly great +delight. The old man for many years had gone on strumming and fumbling +at music by great masters, incapable of executing it, and unwilling to +hear it performed by incompetent instrumentalists. At length Judith +had seated herself at his piano, and had brought into life all that +wondrous world of melody and harmony which he had guessed at, believed +in, yearned for, but never reached. And now that he was left without +her to play to him, he felt like one deprived of a necessary of life. + +But his unrest did not spring solely from a selfish motive. He was not +at ease in his mind about her. Why did he not see her anymore? Why was +she confined to Pentyre! Was she ill? Was she restrained there against +her will from visiting her old friends? Mr. Menaida was very unhappy +because of Judith. He knew that she was resolved never to acknowledge +Coppinger as her real husband; she did not love him, she shrank from +him. And knowing what he did--the story of the invasion of the wreck, +the fight with Oliver--he felt that there was no brutality, no crime +which Coppinger was not capable of committing, and he trembled for the +happiness of the poor little creature who was in his hands. Weak and +irresolute though Mr. Menaida was, he was peppery and impulsive when +irritated, and his temper had been roused by the manner of his +reception at the Glaze, when he went there to inquire after Judith. + +Whilst engaged on his birds, his hand shook, so that he could not +shape them aright. When he smoked his pipe, he pulled it from between +his lips every moment to growl out some remark. When he sipped his +grog, he could not enjoy it. He had a tender heart, and he had become +warmly attached to Judith. He firmly believed in identification of the +ruffian with whom Oliver had fought on the deck, and it was horrible +to think that the poor child was at his mercy; and that she had no one +to counsel and to help her. + +At length he could endure the suspense no longer. One evening, after +he had drank a good many glasses of rum and water, he jumped up, put +on his hat, and went off to Pentyre, determined to insist on seeing +Judith. + +As he approached the house he saw that the hall windows were lighted +up. He knew which was Judith's room, from what she had told him of its +position. There was a light in that window also. Uncle Zachie, flushed +with anger against Coppinger, and with the spirits he had drank, +anxious about Judith, and resenting the way in which he had been +treated, went boldly up to the front door and knocked. A maid answered +his knock, and he asked to see Mrs. Coppinger. The woman hesitated, +and bade him be seated in the porch. She would go and see. + +Presently Miss Trevisa came, and shut the door behind her, as she +emerged into the porch. + +"I should like to see Mrs. Coppinger," said the old man. + +"I am sorry--you cannot," answered Miss Trevisa. + +"But why not?" + +"This is not a fit hour at which to call." + +"May I see her if I come at any other hour?" + +"I cannot say." + +"Why may I not see her?" + +"She is unwell." + +"If she is unwell, then I am very certain she would be glad to see +Uncle Zachie." + +"Of that I am no judge, but you cannot be admitted now." + +"Name the day, the hour, when I may." + +"That I am not at liberty to do." + +"What ails her? Where is Jamie?" + +"Jamie is here--in good hands." + +"And Judith." + +"She is in good hands." + +"In good hands!" exclaimed Mr. Menaida, "I should like to see the +good, clean hands worn by anyone in this house, except my dear, +innocent little Judith. I must and will see her. I must know from her +own lips how she is. I must see that she is happy--or at least not +maltreated." + +"Your words are an insult to me, her aunt, and to Captain Coppinger, +her husband," said Miss Trevisa, haughtily. + +"Let me have a word with Captain Coppinger." + +"He is not at home." + +"Not at home!--I hear a great deal of noise. There must be a number of +guests in the hall. Who is entertaining them, you or Judith!" + +"That is no concern of yours, Mr. Menaida." + +"I do not believe that Captain Coppinger is not at home. I insist on +seeing him." + +"Were you to see him--you would regret it afterwards. He is not a +person to receive impertinences and pass them over. You have already +behaved in a most indecent manner, in encouraging my niece to visit +your house, and sit, and talk, and walk with, and call by his +Christian name, that young fellow, your son." + +"Oliver!" Mr. Menaida was staggered. It had never occurred to his +fuddled, yet simple mind, that the intimacy that had sprung up between +the young people was capable of misinterpretation. The sense that he +had laid himself open to this charge made him very angry, not with +himself, but with Coppinger and with Miss Trevisa. + +"I'll tell you what," said the old man, "if you will not let me in I +suppose you will not object to my writing a line to Judith?" + +"I have received orders to allow of no communication of any kind +whatsoever between my niece and you or your house." + +"You have received orders--from Coppinger?" the old man flamed with +anger. "Wait a bit! There is no command issued that you are not to +take a message from me to your master?" + +He put his hand into his pocket, pulled out a note-book, and tore out +of it a page. Then, by the light from the hall window, he scribbled on +it a few lines in pencil. + + "Sir!--You are a scoundrel. You bully your wife. You rob, and + attempt to murder those who are shipwrecked.--Zachary + Menaida." + +"There," said the old man, "that will draw him, and I shall see him, +and have it out with him." + +He had wafers in his pocket-book. He wetted and sealed the note. Then +he considered that he had not said enough, so he opened the page +again, and added: "I shall tell all the world what I know about you." +Then he fastened the note again, and directed it. But as it suddenly +occurred to him that Captain Coppinger might refuse to open the +letter, he added on the outside, "The contents I know by heart, and +shall proclaim them on the house-tops." He thrust the note into Miss +Trevisa's hand, and turned his back on the house, and walked home +snorting and muttering. On reaching Polzeath, however, he had cooled, +and thought that possibly he had done a very foolish thing, and that +most certainly he had in no way helped himself to what he desired, to +see Judith again. Moreover, with a qualm, he became aware that Oliver, +on his return from Bristol, would in all probability greatly +disapprove of this fiery outburst of temper. To what would it lead? +_Could_ he fight Captain Coppinger? If it came to that, he was ready. +With all his faults Mr. Menaida was no coward. + +On entering his house he found Oliver there, just arrived from +Camelford. He at once told him what he had done. Oliver did not +reproach him; he merely said, "A declaration of war, father! and a +declaration before we are quite prepared." + +"Well--I suppose so. I could not help myself. I was so incensed." + +"The thing we have to consider," said Oliver, "is what Judith wishes, +and how it is to be carried out. Some communication must be opened +with her. If she desires to leave the house of that fellow, we must +get her away. If, however, she elects to remain, our hands are tied: +we can do nothing." + +"It is very unfortunate that Jamie is no longer here; we could have +sent her a letter through him." + +"He has been removed to prevent anything of the sort taking place." + +Then Oliver started up. "I will go and reconnoitre, myself." + +"No," said the father. "Leave all to me. You must on no account meddle +in this matter." + +"Why not?" + +"Because"--the old man coughed. "Do you not understand--you are a +young man." + +Oliver colored, and said no more. He had not great confidence in his +father's being able to do anything effectual for Judith. The step he +had recently taken was injudicious and dangerous, and could further +the end in view in no way. + +He said no more to old Mr. Menaida, but he resolved to act himself, in +spite of the remonstrance made and the objection raised by his father. +No sooner was the elder man gone to bed, than he sallied forth and +took the direction of Pentyre. It was a moonlight night. Clouds indeed +rolled over the sky, and for awhile obscured the moon, but a moment +after it flared forth again. A little snow had fallen and frosted the +ground, making everything unburied by the white flakes to seem inky +black. A cold wind whistled mournfully over the country. Oliver walked +on, not feeling the cold, so glowing were his thoughts, and came +within sight of the Glaze. His father had informed him that there were +guests in the hall; but when he approached the house, he could see no +lights from the windows. Indeed, the whole house was dark, as though +everyone in it were asleep, or it were an uninhabited ruin. That most +of the windows had shutters he was aware, and that these might be shut +so as to exclude the chance of any ray issuing he also knew. He could +not therefore conclude that all the household had retired for the +night. + +The moon was near its full. It hung high aloft in an almost cloudless +sky. The air was comparatively still--still it never is on that coast, +nor is it ever unthrilled by sound. Now, above the throb of the ocean, +could be heard the shrill clatter and cry of the gulls. They were not +asleep; they were about, fishing or quarrelling in the silver light. + +Oliver rather wondered at the house being so hushed--wondered that the +guests were all dismissed. He knew in which wing of the mansion was +Judith's room, and also which was Judith's window. The pure white +light shone on the face of the house and glittered in the +window-panes. + +As Oliver looked, thinking and wondering, he saw the casement opened, +and Judith appeared at it, leaned with her elbow on the sill, and +rested her face in her hand, looking up at the moon. The light air +just lifted her fine hair. Oliver noticed how delicately pale and +fragile she seemed--white as a gull, fragile as porcelain. He would +not disturb her for a moment or two; he stood watching, with an +oppression on his heart, and with a film forming over his eyes. Could +nothing be done for the little creature? She was moped up in her room. +She was imprisoned in this house, and she was wasting, dying in +confinement. + +And now he stole noiselessly nearer. There was an old cattle-shed +adjoining the house, that had lost its roof. Coppinger concerned +himself little about agriculture, and the shed that had once housed +cows had been suffered to fall to ruin, the slates had been blown off, +then the rain had wetted and rotted the rafters, and finally the +decayed rafters had fallen with their remaining load of slates, +leaving the walls alone standing. + +Up one of the sides of this ruinous shed Oliver climbed, and then +mounted to the gable, whence he could speak to Judith. But she must +have heard him, and been alarmed, for she hastily closed the casement. +Oliver, however, did not abandon his purpose. He broke off particles +of mortar from the gable of the cow-house and threw them cautiously +against the window. No notice was taken of the first or the second +particle that clickered against a pane; but at the third a shadow +appeared at the window, as though Judith had come to the casement to +look out. Oliver was convinced that he could be seen; as he was on the +very summit of the gable, and he raised his hands and arms to ensure +attention. + +Suddenly the shadow was withdrawn. Then hastily he drew forth a scrap +of paper, on which he had written a few words before he left his +father's house, in the hopes of obtaining a chance of passing it to +Judith, through Jamie, or by bribing a servant. This he now wrapped +round a bit of stone and fastened it with a thread. Next moment the +casement was opened and the shadow reappeared. + +"Back!" whispered Oliver, sufficiently loud to be heard, and he +dexterously threw the stone and the letter through the open window. + +Next moment the casement was shut and the curtains were drawn. + +He waited for full a quarter of an hour but no answer was returned. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +THE SECOND TIME. + + +No sooner had Oliver thrown the stone with note tied round it into +Judith's room through the window, than he descended from a position +which he esteemed too conspicuous should anyone happen to be about in +the night near the house. He ensconced himself beneath the cow-shed +wall in the shadow, where concealed, but was ready should the casement +open to step forth and show himself. + +He had not been there many minutes before he heard steps and voices, +one of which he immediately recognized as that of Cruel Coppinger. +Oliver had not been sufficiently long in the neighborhood to know the +men in it by their voices, but looking round the corner of the wall he +saw two figures against the horizon, one with hands in his pockets, +and by the general slouch, he thought that he recognized the sexton of +S. Enodoc. + +"The Black Prince will be in before long," said Coppinger. "I mean +next week or fortnight, and I must have the goods shored here, this +time. She will stand off Porth-leze, and mind you get information +conveyed to the captain of the coast-guard that she will run her cargo +there. Remember that. We must have a clear coast here. The stores are +empty and must be refilled." + +"Yes, your honor." + +"You have furnished him with the key to the signals?" + +"Yes, Cap'n." + +"And from Porth-leze there are to be signals to the Black Prince to +come on here--but so that they may be read the other way--you +understand?" + +"Yes, Cap'n." + +"And what do they give you every time you carry them a bit of +information?" + +"A shilling." + +"A munificent government payment! and what did they give you for the +false code of signals?" + +"Half a crown." + +"Then here is half a guinea--and a crown for every lie you impose on +them." + +Then Coppinger and the sexton went further. As soon as Oliver thought +he could escape unobserved he withdrew and returned to Polzeath. + +Next day he had a talk with his father. + +"I have had opinions, in Bristol," said he, "relative to the position +of Judith." + +"From whom?" + +"From lawyers." + +"Well--and what did they say?" + +"One said one thing and one another. I stated the case of her +marriage, its incompletion, the unsigned register, and one opinion was +that nevertheless she was Mrs. Coppinger. But another opinion was +that, in consequence of the incompleteness of the marriage, it was +none--she was Miss Trevisa. Father, before I went to the barristers +and obtained their opinions, I was as wise as I am now, for I knew +then, what I know now, that she is either Mrs. Coppinger, or else that +she is Miss Trevisa." + +"I could have told you as much." + +"It seems to me--but I may be uncharitable," said Oliver, grimly, +"that the opinion given was this way or that way according as I showed +myself interested for the legality or against the legality of the +marriage. Both of those to whom I applied regarded the case as +interesting and deserving of being thrashed out in a court of law, and +gave their opinions so as to induce me to embark in a suit. You +understand what I mean, father? When I seemed urgent that the marriage +should be pronounced none at all, then the verdict of the consulting +barrister was that it was no marriage at all, and very good reasons he +was able to produce to show that. But when I let it be supposed that +my object was to get this marriage established against certain parties +keenly interested in disputing it, I got an opinion that it was a good +and legal marriage, and very good reasons were produced to sustain +this conclusion." + +"I could have told you as much--and this has cost you money?" + +"Yes--naturally." + +"And left you without any satisfaction?" + +"Yes." + +"No satisfaction is to be got out of law--that is why I took to +stuffing birds." + +"What is that noise at the door?" asked Oliver. + +"There is some one trying to come in, and fumbling at the hasp," said +his father. + +Oliver went to the door and opened it--to find Jamie there, trembling, +white, and apparently about to faint. He could not speak, but he held +out a note to Oliver. + +"What is the matter with you?" asked the young man. + +The boy, however, did not answer, but ran to Mr. Menaida, and crouched +behind him. + +"He has been frightened," said the old man. "Leave him alone. He will +come round presently and I will give him a drop of spirits to rouse +him up. What letter is that?" + +Oliver looked at the little note given him. It had been sealed, but +torn open afterward. It was addressed to him, and across the address +was written in bold, coarse letters with a pencil, "Seen and passed. +C. C." Oliver opened the letter and read as follows: + + "I pray you leave me. Do not trouble yourself about me. + Nothing can now be done for me. My great concern is for + Jamie. But I entreat you to be very cautious about yourself + where you go. You are in danger. Your life is threatened, and + you do not know it. I must not explain myself, but I warn + you. Go out of the country--that would be best. Go back to + Portugal. I shall not be at ease in my mind till I know that + you are gone, and gone unhurt. My dear love to Mr. + Menaida--Judith." + +The hand that had written this letter had shaken, the letters were +hastily and imperfectly formed. Was this the hand of Judith who had +taught Jamie caligraphy, had written out his copies as neatly and +beautifully as copper-plate? + +Judith had sent him this answer by her brother, and Jamie had been +stopped, forced to deliver up the missive, which Coppinger had opened +and read. Oliver did not for a moment doubt _whence_ the danger sprang +with which he was menaced. Coppinger had suffered the warning to be +conveyed to him with contemptuous indifference--it was as though he +had scored across the letter--"Be forewarned, take what precautions +you will--you shall not escape me." + +The first challenge had come from old Menaida, but Coppinger passed +over that as undeserving of attention, but he proclaimed his readiness +to cross swords with the young man. And Oliver could not deny that he +had given occasion for this. Without counting the cost, without +considering the risk; nay, further, without weighing the right and +wrong in the matter, Oliver had allowed himself to slip into terms of +some familiarity with Judith, harmless enough were she unmarried, but +hardly calculated to be so regarded by a husband. They had come to +consider each other as cousins, or they had pretended so to consider +each other, so as to justify a half-affectionate, half-intimate +association, and before he was aware of it Oliver had lost his heart. +He could not and he would not regard Judith as the wife of Coppinger, +because he knew that she absolutely refused to be so regarded by him, +by herself, by his father, though by appearing at the ball with +Coppinger, by living in his house, she allowed the world to so +consider her. Was she his wife? He could not suppose it when she had +refused to conclude the marriage ceremony, when there was no +documentary evidence for the marriage. Let the question be mooted in a +court of law; what could the witnesses say, but that she had fainted, +and that all the latter portion of the ceremony had been performed +over her when unconscious, and that on her recovery of her faculties +she had resolutely persisted in resistance to the affixing of her +signature to the register. + +With respect to Judith's feelings toward himself Oliver was ignorant. +She had taken pleasure in his society, because he had made himself +agreeable to her, and his company was a relief to her after the +solitude of Pentyre and the association there with persons with whom +she was wholly out of sympathy. + +His quarrel with Coppinger had shifted ground. At first he had +resolved, should occasion offer, to conclude with him the contest +begun on the wreck, and to chastise him for his conduct on that night. +Now, he thought little of that cause of resentment, he desired to +punish him for having been the occasion of so much misery to Judith. +He could not now drive from his head the scene of the girl's wan face +at the window, looking up at the moon. + +Oliver would shrink from doing anything dishonorable, but it did not +seem to him that there could be aught wrong and unbecoming a gentleman +in endeavoring to snatch this hapless child from the claws of the wild +beast that had struck it down. + +"No, father," said he hastily, as the old fellow was pouring out a +pretty strong dose of his great specific and about to administer it to +Jamie, "no father, it is not that the boy wants; and remember how +strongly Judith objects to his being given spirits." + +"Dear, dear!" exclaimed Uncle Zachie, "to be sure she does, and she +made me promise not to give him any. But this is an exceptional case." + +"Let him come to me, I will soothe him. The child is frightened, or +stay, get him to help you with that kittiwake. Jamie, father can't get +the bird to look natural; his head does not seem to me to be right. +Did you ever see a kittiwake turn his neck in that fashion? I wish you +would put your fingers to the throat, and bend it about, and set the +wadding where it ought to be. Father and I can't agree about it." + +"It is wrong," said Jamie. "Look, this is the way." His mind was +diverted. Always volatile, always ready to be turned from one thing to +another, Oliver had succeeded in interesting him, and had made him +forget for a moment the terrors that had shaken him. + +After Jamie had been in the house for half an hour, Oliver advised him +to return to the Glaze. He would give him no message, verbal or +written. But the thought of having to return renewed the poor child's +fears, and Oliver could hardly allay them by promising to accompany +him part of the way. + +Oliver was careful not to speak to him on the subject of his alarm, +but he gathered from his disjointed talk that Judith had given him the +note and impressed on him that it was to be delivered as secretly as +possible; that Coppinger had intercepted him, and suspecting +something, had threatened and frightened him into divulging the truth. +Then Captain Cruel had read the letter, scored over it some words in +pencil, given it back to him, and ordered him to fulfil his +commission, to deliver the note. + +"Look you here, Jamie," was Mr. Menaida's parting injunction to the +lad as he left the house, "there's no reason for you to be idle when +at Pentyre. You can make friends with some of the men and get birds +shot. I don't advise your having a gun, you are not careful enough. +But if they shoot birds you may amuse your leisure in skinning them, +and I gave Judith arsenic for you. She keeps it in her workbox, and +will let you have sufficient for your purpose as you need it. I would +not give it to you, as it might be dangerous in your hands as a gun. +It is a deadly poison, and with carelessness you might kill a man. But +go to Judith when you have a skin ready to dress and she will see that +you have sufficient for the dressing. There, good-by, and bring me +some skins shortly." + +Oliver accompanied the boy as far as the gate that led into the lane +between the walls enclosing the fields of the Pentyre estate. Jamie +pressed him to come farther, but this the young man would not do. He +bade the poor lad farewell, bid him divert himself as his father had +advised, with bird stuffing, and remained at the gate watching him +depart. The boy's face and feebleness touched and stirred the heart of +Oliver. The face reminded him so strongly of his twin sister, but it +was the shadow, the pale shadow of Judith only, without the +intelligence, the character, and the force. And the helplessness of +the child, his desolation, his condition of nervous alarm roused the +young man's pity. He was startled by a shot, that struck his gray hat +simultaneously with the report. + +In a moment he sprang over the hedge in the direction whence the smoke +rose, and came upon Cruel Coppinger with a gun. + +"Oh, you!" said the latter, with a sneer, "I thought I was shooting a +rabbit." + +"This is the second time," said Oliver. + +"The first," was Coppinger's correction. + +"Not so--the second time you have levelled at me. The first was on the +wreck when I struck up your hand." + +Coppinger shrugged his shoulders. "It is immaterial. The third time is +lucky, folks say." + +The two men looked at each other with hostility. + +"Your father has insulted me," said Coppinger. "Are you ready to take +up his cause? I will not fight an old fool." + +"I am ready to take up his cause, mine also, and that of----" Oliver +checked himself. + +"And that of whom?" asked Coppinger, white with rage, and in a +quivering voice. + +"The cause of my father and mine own will suffice," said Oliver. + +"And when shall we meet?" asked Captain Cruel, leaning on his gun and +glaring at his young antagonist over it. + +"When and where suits me," answered Oliver, coldly. + +"And when and where may that be?" + +"When and where!--when and where I can come suddenly on you as you +came on me upon the wreck. With such as you--one does not observe the +ordinary rules." + +"Very well," shouted Coppinger. "When and where suits you, and when +and where suits me--that is, whenever we meet again--we meet finally." + +Then each turned and strode away. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +THE WHIP FALLS. + + +For many days Judith had been as a prisoner in the house, in her room. +Some one had spoken to Coppinger and had roused his suspicions, +excited his jealousy. He had forbidden her visits to Polzeath; and to +prevent communication between her and the Menaidas, father and son, he +had removed Jamie to Pentyre Glaze. + +Angry and jealous he was. Time had passed, and still he had not +advanced a step, rather he had lost ground. Judith's hopes that he was +not what he had been represented, were dashed. However plausible might +be his story to account for the jewels, she did not believe it. + +Why was Judith not submissive? Coppinger could now only conclude that +she had formed an attachment for Oliver Menaida--for that young man +whom she singled out, greeted with a smile, and called by his +Christian name. He had heard of how she had made daily visits to the +house of his father, how Oliver had been seen attending her home, and +his heart foamed with rage and jealousy. + +She had no desire to go anywhere, now that she was forbidden to go to +Polzeath, and when she knew that she was watched. She would not +descend to the hall and mix with the company often assembled there, +and though she occasionally went there when Coppinger was alone, took +her knitting and sat by the fire, and attempted to make conversation +about ordinary matters, yet his temper, his outbursts of rancor, his +impatience of every other topic save their relations to each other, +and his hatred of the Menaidas, made it intolerable for her to be with +him alone, and she desisted from seeking the hall. This incensed him, +and he occasionally went up-stairs, sought her out and insisted on her +coming down. She would obey, but some outbreak would speedily drive +her from his presence again. + +Their relations were more strained than ever. His love for her had +lost the complexion of love and had assumed that of jealousy. His +tenderness and gentleness toward her had been fed by hope, and when +hope died they vanished. Even that reverence for her innocence and the +respect for her character that he had shown was dissipated by the +stormy gusts of jealousy. + +Miss Trevisa was no more a help and stay to the poor girl than she had +been previously. She was soured and embittered, for her ambition to be +out of the house and in Othello Cottage had been frustrated. Coppinger +would not let her go till he and his wife had come to more friendly +terms. On her chimney-piece were two bunches of lavender, old lavender +from the rectory garden of the preceding year. They had become so dry +that the seeds fell out, and they no longer exhaled scent unless +pressed. + +Judith stood at her chimney-piece pressing her finger on the dropped +seeds, and picking them up by this means to throw them into the small +fire that smouldered in the grate. At first she went on listlessly +picking up a seed and casting it into the fire, actuated by her innate +love of order, without much thought--rather without any thought--for +her mind was engaged over the letter of Oliver and his visit the +previous night outside. But after a while, while thus gathering the +grains of lavender, she came to associate them with her trouble, and +as she thought--"Is there any escape for me, any happiness in +store?"--she picked up a seed and cast it into the fire. Then she +asked: "Is there any other escape for me than to die--to die and be +with dear papa again, now not in S. Enodoc Rectory garden, but in the +garden of Paradise?" And again she picked up and cast away a grain. +Then, as she touched her fingertip with her tongue and applied it to +another lavender seed, she said: "Or must this go on--this nightmare +of wretchedness, of persecution, of weariness to death without dying, +for years?" And she cast away the seed shudderingly. "Or"--and again, +now without touching her finger with her tongue, as though the last +thought had contaminated it--"or will he finally break and subdue me, +destroy me and Jamie, soul and body?" Shivering at the thought she +hardly dare to touch a seed, but forced herself to do so, raised one, +and hastily shook it from her. + +Thus she continued ringing the change, never formulating any scheme +of happiness for herself--certainly, in her white, guileless mind, not +in any way associating Oliver with happiness, save as one who might by +some means effect her discharge from this bondage--but he was not +linked, not woven up with any thought of the future. + +The wind clickered at the casement. She had a window toward the sea; +another, opposite, toward the land. Hers was a transparent chamber, +and her mind had been transparent. Only now, timidly, doubtfully, not +knowing herself why, did she draw a blind down over her soul, as +though there were something there that she would not have all the +world see, and yet which was in itself innocent. Then a new fear woke +up in her, lest she should go mad. Day after day, night after night, +was spent in the same revolution of distressing thought, in the same +bringing up and reconsidering of old difficulties, questions +concerning Coppinger, questions concerning Jamie, questions concerning +her own power of endurance and resistance. Was it possible that this +could go on without driving her mad? + +"One thing I see," murmured she; "all steps are broken away under me +on the stair, and one thing alone remains for me to cling to--one only +thing--my understanding. That"--she put her hands to her head--"that +is all I have left. My name is gone from me. My friends I am separated +from. My brother may not be with me. My happiness is all gone. My +health may break down, but to a clear understanding I must hold; if +that fails me I am lost--lost indeed." + +"Lost indeed!" exclaimed Coppinger, entering abruptly. He had caught +her last words. He came in in white rage, blinded and forgetful in his +passion, and with his hat on. There was a day when he entered the +boudoir with his head covered, and Judith, without a word, by the mere +force of her character shining out of her clear eyes, had made him +retreat and uncover. It was not so now. She was careless whether he +wore the hat or not when he entered her room. "So!" said he, in a +voice that foamed out of his mouth, "letters pass between you! +Letters--I have read that you sent. I stayed your messenger." + +"Well," answered Judith, with such composure as she could muster. She +had already passed through several stormy scenes with him, and knew +that her only security lay in self-restraint. "There was naught in it +that you might not read. What did I say? That my condition was +fixed--that none could alter it; that is true. That my great care and +sorrow of heart is for Jamie; that is true. That Oliver Menaida has +been threatened; that also is true. I have heard you speak words +against him of no good." + +"I will make good my words." + +"I wrote, and hoped to save him from a danger, and you from a crime." + +Coppinger laughed. "I have sent on the letter. Let him take what +precautions he will. I will chastise him. No man ever crossed me yet +but was brought to bite the dust." + +"He has not harmed you, Captain Coppinger." + +"He! Can I endure that you should call him by his Christian name, +while I am but Captain Coppinger? That you should seek him out, laugh, +and talk, and flirt with him--" + +"Captain Coppinger!" + +"Yes," raged he, "always Captain Coppinger, or Captain Cruel, and he +is dear Oliver! sweet Oliver!" He well-nigh suffocated in his fury. + +Judith drew herself up and folded her arms. She had in one hand a +sprig of lavender from which she had been shaking the over-ripe +grains. She turned deadly white. + +"Give me up his letter. Yours was an answer!" + +"I will give it to you," answered Judith, and she went to her workbox, +raised the lid, then the little tray containing reels, and from +beneath it extracted a crumpled scrap of paper. She handed it calmly, +haughtily to Coppinger, then folded her arms again, one hand still +holding the bunch of lavender. + +The letter was short. Coppinger's hand shook with passion so that he +could hardly hold it with sufficient steadiness to read it. It ran as +follows: + +"I must know your wishes, dear Judith. Do you intend to remain in that +den of wreckers and cut-throats? or do you desire that your friends +should bestir themselves to obtain your release? Tell us, in one word, +what to do, or rather what are your wishes, and we will do what we +can." + +"Well!" said Coppinger, looking up. "And your answer is to the +point--you wish to stay." + +"I did not answer thus. I said--leave me." + +"And never intended that he should leave you," raged Coppinger. He +came close up to her with his eyes glittering, his nostrils distended +and snorting and his hands clinched. + +Judith loosened her arms, and with her right hand swept a space before +her with the bunch of lavender. He should not approach her within +arm's length; the lavender marked the limit beyond which he might not +draw near. + +"Now, hear me!" said Coppinger. "I have been too indulgent. I have +humored you as a spoilt child. Because you willed this or that, I have +submitted. But the time for humoring is over. I can endure this +suspense no longer. Either you are my wife or you are not. I will +suffer no trifling over this any longer. You have as it were put your +lips to mine, and then sharply drawn them away--and now offer them to +another." + +"Silence!" exclaimed Judith. "You insult me." + +"You insult and outrage me!" said Coppinger, "when you run from your +home to chatter with and walk with this Oliver, and never deign to +speak to me. When he is your dear Oliver, and I am only Captain +Coppinger; when you have smiles for him you have black looks for me. +Is not that insulting, galling, stinging, maddening?" + +Judith was silent. Her throat swelled. There was some truth in what he +said; but, in the sight of heaven, she was guiltless of ever having +thought of wrong, of having supposed for a moment that what she had +allowed herself had not been harmless. + +"You are silent," said Coppinger. "Now hearken! With this moment I +turn over the page of humoring your fancies and yielding to your +follies. I have never pressed you to sign that register--I have +trusted to your good sense and good feeling. You cannot go back. Even +if you desire it, you cannot undo what has been done. Mine you are, +mine you shall be--mine wholly and always. Do you hear?" + +"Yes." + +"And agree?" + +"No." + +He was silent a moment, with clinched teeth and hands looking at her, +with eyes that smote her, as though they were bullets. + +"Very well," said he. "Your answer is no." + +"My answer is no, so help me God." + +"Very well," said he, between his teeth. "Then we open a new chapter." + +"What chapter is that?" + +"It is that of compulsion. That of solicitation is closed." + +"You cannot, whilst I have my senses. What!" She saw that he had a +great riding-whip in his hand. "What--the old story again! You will +strike me?" + +"No--not you. I will lash you into submission--through Jamie." + +She uttered a cry, dropped the lavender, that became scattered before +her, and held up her hands in mute entreaty. + +"I owe him chastisement. I have owed it him for many a day--and to-day +above all--as a go-between." + +Judith could not speak. She remained as one frozen--in one attitude, +in one spot, speechless. She could not stir, she could not utter a +word of entreaty, as Coppinger left the room. + +In another minute a loud and shrill cry reached her ears from the +court into which one of her windows looked. She knew the cry. It was +that of her twin brother, and it thrilled through her heart, quivered +in every nerve of her whole frame. + +She could hear what followed; but she could not stir. She was rooted +by her feet to the floor, but she writhed there. It was as though +every blow dealt the boy outside fell on her: she bent, she quivered, +her lips parted, but cry she could not, the sweat rolled off her brow; +she beat with her hands in the air. Now she thrilled up with uplifted +arms, on tip-toe, then sank--it was like a flame flickering in a +socket before it expires: it dances, it curls, it shoots up in a +tongue, it sinks into a bead of light, it rolls on one side, it sways +to the other, it leaps from the wick high into the air, and drops +again. It was so with Judith--every stroke dealt, every scream of the +tortured boy, every toss of his suffering frame, was repeated in her +room, by her--in supreme, unspeaking anguish, too intense for sound to +issue from her contracted throat. + +Then all was still, and Judith had sunk to her knees on the scattered +lavender, extending her arms, clasping her hands, spreading them +again, again beating her palms together, in a vague, unconscious way, +as if in breathing she could not gain breath enough without this +expansion and stretching forth of her arms. + +But, all at once, before her stood Coppinger, the whip in his hands. + +"Well! what now is your answer?" + +She breathed fast for some moments, laboring for expression. Then she +reared herself up and tried to speak, but could not. Before her, +threshed out on the floor, were the lavender seeds. They lay thick in +a film over the boards in one place. She put her finger among them and +drew No. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +GONE FROM ITS PLACE. + + +There are persons, they are not many, on whom Luck smiles and showers +gold. Not a steady daily downpour of money but, whenever a little +cloud darkens their sky, that same little cloud, which to others would +be mere gloom, opens and discharges on them a sprinkling of gold +pieces. + +It is not always the case that those who have rich relatives come in +for good things from them. In many cases there are such on whom Luck +turns her back, but to those of whom we speak the rain of gold, and +the snow of scrip and bonds come unexpectedly, but inevitably. Just as +Pilatus catches every cloud that drifts over Switzerland, so do they +by some fatality catch something out of every trouble, that tends +materially to solace their feelings, lacerated by that trouble. But +not so only. These little showers fall to them from relatives they +have taken no trouble to keep on good terms with, from acquaintances +whom they have cut, admirers whose good opinion they have not +concerned themselves to cultivate, friends with whom they have +quarrelled. Gideon's fleece, on one occasion, gathered to itself all +the dew that fell, and left the grass of the field around quite dry. +So do these fortunate persons concentrate on themselves, fortuitively +it seems, the dew of richness that descends and might have, ought to +have, dropped elsewhere; at all events, ought to have been more evenly +and impartially distributed. Gideon's fleece, on another occasion was +dry, when all the glebe was dripping. So is it with certain +unfortunates, Luck never favors them. What they have expected and +counted on they do not get, it is diverted, it drops round about them +on every side, only on them it never falls. + +Now, Miss Trevisa cannot be said to have belonged to either of these +classes. To the latter she had pertained till suddenly, from a +quarter quite unregarded, there came down on her a very satisfactory +little splash. Of relatives that were rich she had none, because she +had no relatives at all. Of bosom friends she had none, for her bosom +was of that unyielding nature, that no one would like to be taken to +it. But, before the marriage of her brother, and before he became +rector of S. Enodoc, when he was but a poor curate, she had been +companion to a spinster lady, Miss Ceely, near S. Austell. Now the +companion is supposed to be a person without an opinion of her own, +always standing in a cringing position to receive the opinion of her +mistress, then to turn it over and give it forth as her own. She is, +if she be a proper companion, a mere echo of the sentiments of her +employer. Moreover, she is expected to be amiable, never to resent a +rude word, never to take umbrage at neglect, always to be ready to +dance attendance on her mistress, and with enthusiasm of devotion, +real or simulated, to carry out her most absurd wishes, unreasoningly. +But Miss Trevisa had been, as a companion, all that a companion ought +not to be. She had argued with Miss Ceely, invariably, had crossed her +opinions, had grumbled at her when she asked that anything might be +done, raised difficulties, piled up objections, blocked the way to +whatever Miss Ceely particularly set the heart on having executed. The +two ladies were always quarrelling, always calling each other names, +and it was a marvel to the relatives of Miss Ceely that she and her +companion hung together for longer than a month. Nevertheless they +did. Miss Trevisa left the old lady when Mr. Peter Trevisa became +rector of S. Enodoc, and then Miss Ceely obtained in her place quite +an ideal companion, a very mirror--she had but to look on her face, +smile, and a smile was repeated, weep, and tears came in the mirror. +The new companion grovelled at her feet, licked the dust off her +shoes, fawned on her hand, ran herself off her legs to serve her, grew +gray under the misery of enduring Miss Ceely's jibes and sneers and +insults, finally sacrificed her health in nursing her. When Miss +Ceely's will was opened it was found that she had left nothing--not a +farthing to this obsequious attendant, but had bequeathed fifteen +hundred pounds, free of legacy duty, and all her furniture and her +house to Miss Trevisa, with whom she had not kept up correspondence +for twenty-three years. It really seemed as if leathery, rusty Aunt +Dionysia, from being a dry Gideon's fleece, were about to be turned +into a wet and wringable fleece. No one was more astounded than +herself. + +It was now necessary that Miss Trevisa should go to S. Austell and see +after what had come to her thus unsolicited and unexpectedly. All need +for her to remain at Pentyre was at an end. + +Before she departed--not finally, but to see about the furniture that +was now hers, and to make up her mind whether to keep or to sell +it--she called Judith to her. + +That day, the events of which were given in last chapter, had produced +a profound impression on Jamie. He had become gloomy, timid, and +silent. His old idle chatter ceased. He clung to his sister, and +accompanied her wherever she went; he could not endure to be with +Coppinger. When he heard his voice, caught a glimpse of him, he ran +away and hid. Jamie had been humored as a child, never beaten, +scolded, put in a corner, sent to bed, cut off his pudding, but the +rod had now been applied to his back and his first experience of +corporal punishment was the cruel and vindictive hiding administered, +not for any fault he had committed but because he had done his +sister's bidding. He was filled with hatred of Coppinger, mingled with +fear, and when alone with Judith would break out into exclamations of +entreaty that she would run away with him, and of detestation of the +man who held them there, as it were prisoners. + +"Ju," said he, "I wish he were dead. I hate him. Why doesn't God kill +him and set us free!" + +At another time he said, "Ju, dear! You do not love him. I wish I were +a big strong man like Oliver, and I would do what Captain Cruel did." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Captain Cruel shot at Oliver." + +This was the first tidings Judith had heard of the attempt on Oliver's +life. + +"He is a mean coward," said Jamie. "He hid behind a hedge and shot at +him. But he did not hurt him." + +"God preserved him," said Judith. + +"Why does not God preserve us! Why did God let that beast----" + +"Hush, Jamie!" + +"I will not--that wretch--beat me? Why did He not send lightning and +strike him dead?" + +"I cannot tell you, darling. We must wait and trust." + +"I am tired of waiting and trusting. If I had a gun I would not shoot +birds, I would go behind a hedge and shoot Captain Coppinger. There +would be nothing wrong in that, Ju?" + +"Yes there would. It would be a sin." + +"Not after he did that to Oliver." + +"I would never--never love you, if you did that." + +"You would always love me whatever I did," said Jamie. He spoke the +truth, Judith knew it. Her eyes filled, she drew the boy to her +passionately and kissed his golden head. + +Then came Aunt Dionysia and summoned her into her own room. Jamie +followed. + +"Judith," began Aunt Dunes, in her usual hard tones, and with the same +frozen face, "I wish you particularly to understand. Look here! You +have caused me annoyance enough while I have been here. Now I shall +have a house of my own at S. Austell, and if I choose to live in it I +can. If I do not, I can let it, and live at Othello Cottage. I have +not made up my mind what to do. Fifteen hundred pounds is a dirty +little sum, and not half as much as ought to have been left me for all +I had to bear from that old woman. I am glad for one thing that she +has left me something, though not much. I should have despaired of her +salvation had she not. However her heart was touched at the last, +though not touched enough. Now what I want you to understand is +this--it entirely depends on your conduct whether after my death this +sum of fifteen hundred pounds and a beggarly sum of about five hundred +I have of my own, comes to you or not. As long as this nonsense goes +on between you and Captain Coppinger--you pretending you are not +married, when you are, there is no security for me that you and Jamie +may not come tumbling in upon me and become a burden to me. Captain +Coppinger will not endure this fooling much longer. _He_ can take +advantage of your mistake. _He_ can say--I am not married. Where is +the evidence? Produce proof of the marriage having been +solemnized--and then he may send you out of his house upon the downs +in the cold. What would you be then, eh? All the world holds you to +be Mrs. Coppinger. A nice state of affairs, if it wakes up one morning +to hear that Mrs. Coppinger has been kicked out of the Glaze, that she +never was the wife. What will the world say, eh? What sort of name +will the world give you, when you have lived here as his wife." + +"That I have not." + +"Lived here, gone to balls as his wife when you were not. What will +the world call you, eh?" + +Judith was silent, holding both her hands, open against her bosom. +Jamie beside her, looking up in her face, not understanding what his +aunt was saying. + +"Very well--or rather very ill!" continued Miss Trevisa. "And then you +and this boy here will come to me to take you in, come and saddle +yourselves on me, and eat up my little fund. That is what will be the +end of it, if you remain in your folly. Go at once to the rector, and +put your name where it should have been two months ago, and your +position is secure, he cannot drive you away, disgusted at your +stubbornness, and you will relieve me of a constant source of +uneasiness. It is not that only, but I must care for the good name of +Trevisa, which you happen to bear, that that name may not be trailed +in the dust. The common sense of the matter is precisely what you +cannot see. If you are not Coppinger's wife you should not be here. If +you are Coppinger's wife, then your name should be in the register. +Now here you have come. You have appeared in public with him. You have +but one course open to you, and that is to secure your position and +your name and honor. You cannot undo what is done, but you can +complete what is done insufficiently. The choice between alternatives +is no longer before you. If you had purposed to withdraw from +marriage, break off the engagement, then you should not have come on +to Pentyre, and remained here. As, however, you did this, there is +absolutely nothing else to be done, but to sign the register. Do you +hear me?" + +"Yes." + +"And you will obey?" + +"No." + +"Pig-headed fool," said Miss Trevisa. "Not one penny will I leave you. +That I swear, if you remain obstinate." + +"Do not let us say anything more about that, aunt. Now you are going +away, is there anything connected with the house you wish me to attend +to? That I will do readily." + +"Yes, there are several things," growled Miss Trevisa, "and, first of +all, are you disposed to do anything, any common little kindness for +the man whose bread you eat, whose roof covers you?" + +"Yes, aunt." + +"Very well, then. Captain Coppinger has his bowl of porridge every +morning. I suppose he was accustomed to it before he came into these +parts, and he cannot breakfast without it. He says that our Cornish +maids cannot make porridge properly, and I have been accustomed to see +to it. Either it is lumpy, or it is watery, or it is saltless. Will +you see to that?" + +"Yes, aunt, willingly." + +"You ought to know how to make porridge, as you are more than half +Scottish." + +"I certainly can make it. Dear papa always liked it." + +"Then you will attend to that. If you are too high and too great a +lady to put your hand to it yourself, you can see that the cook +manages it aright. There is a new girl in now, who is a fool." + +"I will make it myself. I will do all I can do." + +"Then take the keys. Now that I go, you must be mistress of the house. +But for your folly, I might have been from here, and in my own house, +or rather in that given me for my use, Othello Cottage. I was to have +gone there directly after your marriage, I had furnished it, and made +it comfortable, and then you took to your fantastic notions, and hung +back, and refused to allow that you were married, and so I had to +stick on here two months. Here, take the keys." Miss Trevisa almost +flung them at her niece. "Now I have two thousand pounds of my own, +and a house at S. Austell, it does not become me to be doing menial +service. Take the keys. I will never have them back." + +When Miss Trevisa was gone, and Judith was by herself at night, Jamie +being asleep, she was able to think over calmly what her aunt had +said. She concerned herself not the least, relative to the promise her +aunt had made of leaving her two thousand pounds, were she +submissive, and her threat of disinheriting her, should she continue +recalcitrant, but she did feel that there was truth in her aunt's +words when she said that she, Judith, had placed herself in a wrong +position--but it was a wrong position into which she had been forced, +she had not voluntarily entered it. She had, indeed, consented to +become Coppinger's wife, but when she found that Coppinger had +employed Jamie to give signals that might mislead a vessel to its ruin +she could not go further to meet him. Although he had endeavored to +clear himself in her eyes, she did not believe him. She was convinced +that he was guilty, though at moments she hoped, and tried to persuade +herself that he was not. Then came the matter of the diamonds. There, +again, the gravest suspicion rested on him. Again he had endeavored to +exculpate himself, yet she could not believe that he was innocent. +Till full confidence that he was blameless in these matters was +restored, an insuperable wall divided them. Never would she belong to +a man who was a wrecker, who belonged to that class of criminals her +father had regarded with the utmost horror. + +Before she retired to bed, she picked up from under the fender the +scrap of paper on which Oliver's message had been written. It had lain +there unobserved where Coppinger had flung it, now, as she tidied her +room, and arranged the fire-rug, she observed it. She smoothed it out, +folded it, and went to her workbox to replace it where it had been +before. + +She raised the lid, and was about to put the note among some other +papers she had there, a letter of her mother's, a piece of her +father's writing, some little accounts she had kept, when she was +startled to see that the packet of arsenic Mr. Menaida had given her +was missing. + +She turned out the contents of her workbox. It was nowhere to be +found, either there, or in her drawers. Her aunt must have been prying +into the box, have found and removed it, so Judith thought, and with +this thought appeased her alarm. Perhaps, considering the danger of +having arsenic about, Aunt Dionysia had done right in removing it. She +had done wrong in doing so without speaking to Judith. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + +A SECOND LIE. + + +Next day, Miss Trevisa being gone, Judith had to attend to the work of +the house. It was her manifest duty to do so. Hitherto she had shrunk +from the responsibility, because she shrank from assuming a position +in the house to which she refused to consider that she had a right. +Judith was perfectly competent to manage an establishment, she had a +clear head, a love of order, and a power of exacting obedience of +servants without incessant reproof. Moreover, she had that faculty +possessed by few of directing others in their work so that each moved +along his or her own line and fulfilled the allotted work with ease. +She had managed her father's house, and managed it admirably. She knew +that, as the king's government must be carried on, so the routine of a +household must be kept going. Judith had sufficient acquaintance also +with servants to be aware that the wheel would stop or move +spasmodically, unless an authoritative hand were applied to it to keep +it in even revolution. She knew also that whatever happened in a +house--a birth, a death, a wedding, an uproar--the round of common +duties must be discharged, the meals prepared, the bread baked, the +milk skimmed, the beds made, the carpets swept, the furniture dusted, +the windows opened, the blinds drawn down, the table laid, the silver +and glass burnished. Nothing save a fire which gutted a house must +interfere with all this routine. Miss Trevisa was one of those ladies +who, in their own opinion, are condemned by Providence never to have +good servants. A benign Providence sheds good domestics into every +other house, save that which she rules. She is born under a star which +inexorably sends the scum and dregs of servantdom under her sceptre. +Miss Trevisa regarded a servant as a cat regards a mouse, a dog +regards a fox, and a dolphin a flying-fish, as something to be run +after, snapped at, clawed, leaped upon, worried perpetually. She was +incapable of believing that there could be any good in a servant, that +there was any other side to a domestic save a seamy side. She could +make no allowance for ignorance, for weakness, for lightheartedness. A +servant in her eyes must be a drudge ever working, never speaking, +smiling, taking a hand off the duster, without a mind above flue and +tea-leaves, and unable to soar above a cobweb; with a temper perfect +in endurance of daily, hourly fault-finding, nagging, grumbling, a +mind unambitious also of commendation. Miss Trevisa held that every +servant that a malign Providence had sent her was clumsy, insolent, +slatternly, unmethodical, idle, wasteful, a gossip, a gadabout, a +liar, a thief, was dainty, greedy, one of a cursed generation; and +when in the Psalms, David launched out in denunciation of the enemies +of the Lord, Miss Trevisa, when she heard or read these Psalms, +thought of servantdom. Servants were referred to when David said, +"Hide me from the insurrection of the wicked doers, who have whet +their tongues like a sword, that they may privily shoot at him that is +perfect," _i.e._, me, was Miss Trevisa's comment. "They encourage +themselves in mischief; and commune among themselves how they may lay +snares, and say, that no man shall see them." "And how," said Miss +Trevisa, "can men be so blind as not to believe that the Bible is +inspired when David hits the character of servants off to the life!" + +And not the Psalms only, but the Prophets were full of servants' +delinquencies. What were Tyre and Egypt but figures of servantdom +shadowed before. What else did Isaiah lift up his testimony about, and +Jeremiah lament over, but the iniquities of the kitchen and the +servants' hall. Miss Trevisa read her Bible, and great comfort did it +afford her, because it did denounce the servant maids so unsparingly +and prepared brimstone and outer darkness for them. + +Now Judith had seen and heard much of the way in which Miss Trevisa +managed Captain Coppinger's house. Her room adjoined that of her aunt, +and she knew that if her aunt were engaged on--it mattered not what +absorbing work, embroidery, darning a stocking, reading a novel, +saying her prayers, studying the cookery book--if a servant sneezed +within a hundred yards, or upset a drop of water, or clanked a +dust-pan, or clicked a door-handle, Miss Trevisa would be distracted +from her work and rush out of her room, just as a spider darts from +its recess, and sweep down on the luckless servant to worry and abuse +her. + +Judith, knowing this, knew also that the day of Miss Trevisa's +departure would be marked with white chalk, and lead to a general +relaxation of discipline, to an inhaling of long breaths, and a +general stretching and taking of ease. It was necessary, therefore, +that she should go round and see that the wheel was kept turning. + +To her surprise, on entering the hall, she found Captain Coppinger +there. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, "I thought you were out." + +She looked at him and was struck with his appearance, the clay-like +color of his face, the dark lines in it, the faded look in his eyes. + +"Are you unwell?" she asked; "you really look ill." + +"I am ill." + +"Ill--what is the matter?" + +"A burning in my throat. Cramp and pains--but what is that to you?" + +"When did it come on?" + +"But recently." + +"Will you not have a doctor to see you?" + +"A doctor!--no." + +"Was the porridge as you liked it this morning? I made it." + +"It was good enough." + +"Would you like more now?" + +"No." + +"And to-morrow morning, will you have the same?" + +"Yes--the same." + +"I will make it again. Aunt said the new cook did not understand how +to mix and boil it to your liking." + +Coppinger nodded. + +Judith remained standing and observing him. Some faces when touched by +pain and sickness are softened and sweetened. The hand of suffering +passes over the countenance and brushes away all that is frivolous, +sordid, vulgar; it gives dignity, purity, refinement, and shows what +the inner soul might be were it not entangled and degraded by base +association and pursuit. It is different with other faces, the hand of +suffering films away the assumed expression of good nature, honesty, +straightforwardness, and unmasks the evil inner man. The touch of pain +had not improved the expression of Cruel Coppinger. It cannot, +however, with justice be said that the gentler aspect of the man, +which Judith had at one time seen, was an assumption. He was a man in +whom there was a certain element of good, but it was mixed up with +headlong wilfulness, utter selfishness, and resolution to have his own +way at any cost. + +Judith could see, now that his face was pain-struck, how much of evil +there was in the soul that had been disguised by a certain dash of +masculine overbearing and brusqueness. + +"What are you looking at?" asked Coppinger, glancing up. + +"I was thinking," answered Judith. + +"Of what?" + +"Of you--of Wyvill, of the wreck on Doom Bar, of the jewels of Lady +Knighton, and last of all of Jamie's maltreatment." + +"And what of all that?" he said in irritable scorn. + +"That I need not say. I have drawn my own conclusions." + +"You torment me, you--when I am ill? They call me Cruel, but it is you +who are cruel." + +Judith did not wish to be drawn into discussion that must be +fruitless. She said, quietly, in altered tone, "Can I get you anything +to comfort you?" + +"No--go your way. This will pass. Besides, it is naught to you. Go; I +would be left alone." + +Judith obeyed, but she was uneasy. She had never seen Coppinger look +as he looked now. It was other, altogether, after he had broken his +arm. Other, also, when for a day he was crippled with bruises, after +the wreck. She looked into the hall several times during the day. In +the afternoon he was easier, and went out; his mouth had been parched +and burning, and he had been drinking milk. The empty glass was on the +table. He would eat nothing at mid-day. He turned from food, and left +the room for his own chamber. + +Judith was anxious. She more than once endeavored to draw Coppinger +into conversation relative to himself, but he would not speak of what +affected him. He was annoyed and ashamed at being out of his usual +rude health. + +"It is naught," he said, "but a bilious attack, and will pass. Leave +me alone." + +She had been so busy all day, that she had seen little of Jamie. He +had taken advantage of Captain Coppinger not being about, to give +himself more license to roam than he had of late, and to go with his +donkey on the cliffs. Anyhow Judith on this day did not have him +hanging to her skirts. She was glad of it, for, though she loved him, +he would have been an encumbrance when she was so busy. + +The last thing at night she did was to go to Coppinger to inquire what +he would take. He desired nothing but spirits and milk. He thought +that a milk-punch would give him ease and make him sleep. That he was +weak and had suffered pain she saw, and she was full of pity for him. +But this she did not like to exhibit, partly because he might +misunderstand her feelings, and partly because he seemed irritated at +being unwell, and at loss of power; irritated, at all events, at it +being observed that he was not in his usual plenitude of strength and +health. + +That night the Atlantic was troubled, and the wind carried the billows +against the cliffs in a succession of rhythmic roars that filled the +air with sound and made the earth quiver. Judith could not sleep, she +listened to the thud of the water-heaps flung against the rocks; there +was a clock on the stairs and in her wakefulness she listened to the +tick of the clock, and the boom of the waves, now coming together, +then one behind the other, now the wave-beat catching up the +clock-tick, then falling in arrear, the ocean getting angry and making +up its pace by a double beat. Moreover flakes of foam were carried on +the wind and came, like snow, against her window that looked seaward +striking the glass and adhering to it. + +As Judith lay watchful in the night her mind again recurred to the +packet of arsenic that had been abstracted from her workbox. It was +inconsiderate of her to have left it there; she ought to have locked +her box. But who could have supposed that anyone would have gone to +the box, raised the tray and searched the contents of the compartment +beneath? Judith had been unaccustomed to lock up anything, because she +had never had any secrets to hide from any eye. She again considered +the probability of her aunt having removed it, and then it occurred to +her that perhaps Miss Trevisa might have supposed that she--Judith--in +a fit of revolt against the wretchedness of her life might be induced +to take the poison herself and finish her miseries. "It was absurd if +Aunt Dunes thought that," said Judith to herself; "she can little have +known how my dear Papa's teaching has sunk into my heart, to suppose +me capable of such a thing--and then--to run away like a coward and +leave Jamie unprotected. It was too absurd." + +Next morning Judith was in her room getting a large needle with which +to hem a bit of carpet edge that had been fraying for the last five +years, and which no one had thought of putting a thread to, and so +arresting the disintegration. Jamie was in the room. Judith said to +him: + +"My dear, you have not been skinning and stuffing any birds lately, +have you?" + +"No, Ju." + +"Because I have missed--but, Jamie, I hope you have not been at my +workbox?" + +"What about your workbox, Ju?" + +She knew the boy so well, that her suspicions were at once aroused by +this answer. When he had nothing to hide he replied with a direct +negative or affirmative, but when he had done what his conscience +would not quite allow was right, he fell into equivocation, and +shuffled awkwardly. + +"Jamie," said Judith, looking him straight in the face, "have you been +to my box?" + +"Only just looked in." + +Then he ran to the window. "Oh, do see, Ju, how patched the glass is +with foam!--and is it not dirty?" + +"Jamie, come back. I want an answer." + +He had opened the casement and put his hand out and was wiping off the +patches of froth. + +"What a lot of it there is, Ju." + +"Come here, instantly, Jamie, and shut the window." + +The boy obeyed, creeping toward her sideways, with his head down. + +"Jamie, did you lift the tray?" + +"Only on one side, just a little bit." + +"Did you take anything from under the tray?" + +He did not answer immediately. She looked at him searchingly and in +suspense. He never could endure this questioning look of hers, and he +ran to her, put his arms round her waist, and clasped to her side, hid +his face in her gown. + +"Only a little." + +"A little what?" + +"I don't know." + +"Jamie, no lies. There was a blue paper there containing poison, that +you were not to have unless there were occasion for it--some bird skin +to be preserved and dressed with it. Now, did you take that?" + +"Yes." + +"Go and bring it back to me immediately." + +"I can't." + +"Why not? Where is it?" + +The boy fidgeted, looked up in his sister's face to see what +expression it bore, buried his head again, and said: + +"Ju! he is rightly called Cruel. I hate him, and so do you, don't you, +Ju? I have put the arsenic into his oatmeal, and we will get rid of +him and be free and go away. It will be jolly." + +"Jamie!" with a cry of horror. + +"He won't whip me and scold you any more." + +"Jamie! Oh, my Lord, have pity on him! have pity on us!" + +She clasped her hands to her head, rushed from the room, and flew down +the stairs. + +But ten minutes before that Judith had given Coppinger his bowl of +porridge. He had risen late that morning. He was better, he said, and +he looked more himself than the preceding day. He was now seated at +the table in the hall, and had poured the fresh milk into the bowl, +had dipped the spoon, put some of the porridge to his mouth, tasted, +and was looking curiously into the spoon, when the door was flung +open, Judith entered, and without a word of explanation, caught the +bowl from him and dashed it on the floor. + +Coppinger looked at her with his boring, dark eyes intently, and said: +"What is the meaning of this?" + +"It is poisoned." + +Judith was breathless. She drew back relieved at having cast away the +fatal mess. + +Coppinger rose to his feet, and glared at her across the table, +leaning with his knuckles on the board. He did not speak for a moment, +his face became livid, and his hands resting on the table shook as +though he were shivering in an ague. + +"There is arsenic in the porridge," gasped Judith. + +She had not time to weigh what she should say, how explain her +conduct; but one thought had held her--to save Coppinger's life while +there was yet time. + +The Captain's dog that had been lying at his master's feet rose, went +to the spilt porridge, and began to lap the milk and devour the paste. +Neither Judith nor Coppinger regarded him. + +"It was an accident," faltered Judith. + +"You lie," said Coppinger, in thrilling tones, "you lie, you +murderess! You sought to kill me." + +Judith did not answer for a moment. She also was trembling. She had to +resolve what course to pursue. She could not, she would not, betray +her brother, and subject him to the worst brutality of treatment from +the infuriated man whose life he had sought. + +It were better for her to take the blame on herself. + +"I made the porridge--I and no one else." + +"You told me so, yesterday." He maintained his composure marvellously, +but he was stunned by the sudden discovery of treachery in the woman +he had loved and worshipped. + +"You maddened me by your treatment, but I did not desire that you +should die. I repented and have saved your life." + +As Judith spoke she felt as though the flesh of her face stiffened, +and the skin became as parchment. She could hardly open her mouth to +speak and stir her tongue. + +"Go!" said Coppinger, pointing to the door. "Go, you and your brother. +Othello cottage is empty. Go, murderess, poisoner of your husband, +there and wait till you hear from me. Under one roof, to eat off one +board, is henceforth impossible. Go!" he remained pointing, and a +sulphurous fire flickered in his eyes. + +Then the hound began to howl, threw itself down, its limbs were +contracted, it foamed at the mouth, and howled again. + +To the howlings of the poisoned and dying dog Judith and Jamie left +Pentyre. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + +FAST IN HIS HANDS. + + +Judith and Jamie were together in Othello Cottage--banished from +Pentyre with a dark and threatening shadow over them, but this, +however, gave the boy but little concern; he was delighted to be away +from a house where he had been in incessant terror, and where he was +under restraint; moreover, it was joy to him to be now where he need +not meet Coppinger at every turn. + +Judith forbade his going to Polzeath to see Uncle Zachie and Oliver +Menaida, as she thought it advisable, under the circumstances, to keep +themselves to themselves, and above all not to give further occasion +for the suspicions and jealousy of Coppinger. This was to her, under +the present condition of affairs, specially distressing, as she needed +some counsel as to what she should do. Uncle Zachie at his best was a +poor adviser, but on no account now would she appeal to his son. She +was embarrassed and alarmed. And she had excuse for embarrassment and +alarm. She had taken upon herself the attempt that had been made on +the life of Coppinger, and he would, she supposed, believe her to be +guilty. + +What would he do? Would he proceed against her for attempted murder? +If so, the case against her was very complete. It could be shown that +Mr. Menaida had given her this arsenic, that she had kept it by her in +her workbox while at the Glaze, that she had been on the most +unsatisfactory terms with Captain Coppinger, and that she had refused +to complete her marriage with him by appending her signature to the +register. She was now aware--and the thought made her feel sick at +heart and faint--that her association with the Menaidas had been most +injudicious and had been capable of misinterpretation. It had been +misinterpreted by Coppinger, and probably also by the gossips of +Polzeath. It could be shown that a secret correspondence had been +carried on between her and Oliver, which had been intercepted by her +husband. This was followed immediately by the attempt to poison +Coppinger. The arsenic had been given him in the porridge her own +hands had mixed, and which had been touched by no one else. It was +natural to conclude that she had deliberately purposed to destroy her +husband, that she might be free to marry Oliver Menaida. + +If she were prosecuted on the criminal charge of attempted murder, the +case could be made so conclusive against her that her conviction was +certain. + +Her only chance of escape lay in two directions--one that she should +tell the truth, and allow Jamie to suffer the consequences of what he +had done, which would be prison or a lunatic asylum. The other was +that she should continue to screen him and trust that Coppinger would +not prosecute her. He might hesitate about proceeding with such a +case, which would attract attention to himself, to his household, and +lay bare to the public eye much that he would reasonably be supposed +to wish to keep concealed. If, for instance, the case were brought +into court the story of the enforced marriage must come out, and that +would rake up once more the mystery of the wreckers on Doom Bar, and +of Lady Knighton's jewels. Coppinger might and probably would grasp at +the other alternative--take advantage of the incompletion of the +marriage, repudiate her, and let the matter of the poisoned porridge +remain untouched. + +The more Judith turned the matter over in her head the more sure she +became that the best course, indeed the only one in which safety lay, +was for her to continue to assume to herself the guilt of the attempt +on Coppinger's life. He would see by her interference the second time, +and prevention of his taking a second portion of the arsenic, that she +did not really seek his life, but sought to force him, through +personal fear, to drive her from his house and break the bond by which +he bound her to him. For the sake of this going back from a purpose of +murder, or from thinking that she had never intended to do more than +drive him to a separation by alarm for his own safety; for the sake of +the old love he had borne her, he might forbear pressing this matter +to its bitter consequences, and accept what she desired--their +separation. + +But if Judith allowed the truth to come out, then her husband would +have no such compunction. It would be an opportunity for him to get +rid of the boy he detested, and even if he did not have him consigned +to jail, then it would be only because he would send him to an asylum. + +Judith went out on the cliffs. The sea was troubled, far as the +horizon, strewn with white horses shaking their manes, pawing and +prancing in their gallop landward. There was no blue, no greenness in +the ocean now. The dull tinctures of winter were in it. The Atlantic +wore its scowl, was leaden and impatient. The foam on the rocks was +driven up in spouts into the air and carried over the downs, it caught +in the thorn bushes like flocks of wool, and was no cleaner. It lay +with the thin melting snow and melted with it into a dirty slush. It +plastered the face of Othello Cottage as though, in brutal insolence, +Ocean had been spitting at the house that was built of the wreck he +had failed to gulp down, though he had chewed the life out of it. The +foam rested in flakes on the rushes where it hung and fluttered like +tufts of cotton-grass. It was dropped about by the wind for miles +inland as though the wind were running in a paper chase. It was as +though sky and sea were contending in a game of pelting the land, the +one with snow, the other with foam, the one sweet, the other salt. +Judith walked where, near the edge of the cliffs, there was no snow, +and looked out at the angry ocean. All without was cold, rugged, +ruffled, wretched; and within her heart burned a fire of apprehension, +distress, almost of despair. All at once she came upon Mr. Desiderius +Mules, walking in an opposite direction, engaged in wiping the +foam-flakes out of his eyes. + +"Halloo! you here Mrs. Coppinger?" exclaimed the rector; "glad to see +you. I'm not here like S. Anthony preaching to the fishes, because I +am a practical man. In the first place, in such a disturbed sea the +fishes would have enough to do to look after themselves and would be +ill-disposed to lend me an ear. In the next place the wind is on +shore, and they would not hear me were I to lift up my voice. So I +don't waste words and over-strain my larynx. If the bishop were a mile +or a mile and a half inland, it might be different, he might admire my +zeal. And what brings you here?" + +"Oh, Mr. Mules!" exclaimed Judith, with a leap of hope in her +heart--here was someone who might if he would be a help to her. She +had indeed made up her own mind as to what was the safest road on +which to set her feet, but she was timid, shrank from falsehood, and +earnestly craved for someone to whom she could speak, and from whom +she could obtain advice. + +"Oh, Mr. Mules! will you give me some advice and assistance?" + +"Advice, by all means," said the rector. "I'll turn and walk your way, +the froth is blown into my face and stings it. My skin is sensitive, +so are my eyes. Upon my word, when I get home my face will be as salt +as if I had flooded it with tears--fancy me crying. What did you say +you wanted--advice?" + +"Advice and assistance." + +"Advice you shall have, it is my profession to give it. I mix it with +pepper and salt and serve it out in soup plates every week--am ready +with it every day, Mrs. Coppinger. I have buckets of it at your +disposal, bring your tureen and I'll tip in as much of the broth as +you want, and may you like it. As to assistance, that is another +matter. Pecuniary assistance I never give. I am unable to do so. My +principles stand in the way. I have set up a high standard for myself +and I stick to it. I never render pecuniary assistance to any one, as +it demoralizes the receiver. I hope and trust it was not pecuniary +assistance you wanted." + +"No, Mr. Mules--not that, only guidance." + +"Oh, guidance! I'm your sign-post, where do you want to go!" + +"It is this, sir. I have given poison to Mr. Coppinger." + +"Mercy on me!" the rector jumped back and turned much the tinge of the +foam plasters that were on his face. + +"That is to say, I gave him arsenic mixed with his porridge the day +before yesterday, and it made him very ill. Yesterday----" + +"Hush, hush!" said Mr. Mules, "no more of this. This is ghastly. Let +us say it is hallucination on your part. You are either not right in +your head or are very wicked. If you please--don't come nearer to me. +I can hear you quite well, hear a great deal more than pleases me. +You ask my advice, and I give it: Sign the register, that will set me +square, and put me in an unassailable position with the public, and +also, secondarily, it will be to your advantage. You are now a +nondescript, and a nondescript is objectionable. If you please--you +will excuse me--I should prefer _not_ standing between you and the +cliff. There is no knowing what a person who confesses to poisoning +her husband might do. If it be a case of lunacy--well, more reason +that I should use precautions. My life is valuable. Come, there is +only one thing you can do to make me comfortable--sign the register." + +"You will not mention what I have told you to anyone?" + +"Save and defend us! I speak of it!--I! Come, come, be rational. Sign +the register and set my mind at ease, that is all I want and ask for, +and then I wash my hands of you." + +Then away went Mr. Desiderius Mules, with the wind catching his coat +tails, twisting them, throwing them up against his back, parting them, +and driving them one on each of him, taking and cutting them and +sending them between his legs. + +Judith stood mournfully looking after him. The sign-post, as he had +called himself was flying from the traveller whom it was his duty to +direct. + +Then a hand was laid on her arm. She started, turned and saw Oliver +Menaida, flushed with rapid walking and with the fresh air he had +encountered. + +"I have come to see you," he said. "I have come to offer you my +father's and my assistance. We have just heard----" + +"What?" + +"That Captain Coppinger has turned you and Jamie out of his house." + +"Have you heard any reason assigned?" + +"Because--so it is said--he had beaten the boy, and you were incensed, +angry words passed--and it ended in a rupture." + +"That, then, is the common explanation?" + +"Everyone is talking about it. Everyone says that. And now, what will +you do?" + +"Thank you. Jamie and I are at Othello Cottage, where we are +comfortable. My aunt had furnished it intending to reside in it +herself. As for our food, we receive that from the Glaze." + +"But this cannot continue." + +"It must continue for a while." + +"And then?" + +"The future is not open to my eyes." + +"Judith, that has taken place at length which I have been long +expecting." + +"What do you mean?" + +"This miserable condition of affairs has reached its climax, and there +has been a turn." + +Judith sighed. "It has taken a turn, indeed." + +"Now that Captain Coppinger has been brought to his senses, and he +sees that your resolve is not to be shaken, and he releases you, or +you have released yourself from the thraldom you have been in. I do +not suppose the popular account of the matter is true, wholly." + +"It is not at all true." + +"That matters not. The fact remains that you are out of Pentyre Glaze +and your own mistress. The snare is broken and you are delivered." + +Again Judith sighed, and she shook her head despondingly. + +"You are free," persisted Oliver, "just consider. You were hurried +through a marriage when insensible, and when you came to consciousness +you did what was the only thing you could do--you absolutely refused +your signature that would validate what had taken place. That was +conclusive. That ceremony was as worthless as this sea-foam that blows +by. No court in the world would hold that you were bound by it. The +consent, the free consent, of each party in such a convention is +essential. As to your being at Pentyre, nothing against that can be +alleged; Miss Trevisa was your aunt and constituted your guardian by +your father. Your place was by her. To her you went when my father's +house was no longer at your service through my return. At Pentyre you +remained as long as Miss Trevisa was there. She went, and at once you +left the house." + +"You do not understand." + +"Excuse me, I think I do. But no matter as to details. When your aunt +went, you went also--as was proper under the circumstances. We have +heard, I do not know whether it be true, that your aunt has come in +for a good property." + +"For a little something." + +"Then, shall you go to her and reside with her?" + +"No; she will not have Jamie and me." + +"So we supposed. Now my father has a proposal to make. The firm to +which I belong has been good enough to take me into partnership, +esteeming my services far higher than they deserve, and I am to live +at Oporto, and act for them there. As my income will now be far larger +than my humble requirements, I have resolved to allow my dear father +sufficient for him to live upon comfortably where he wills, and he has +elected to follow me, and take up his abode in Portugal. Now what he +has commissioned me to say is--will you go with him? Will you continue +to regard him as Uncle Zachie, and be to him as his dear little niece, +and keep house for him in the sunny southern land?" + +Judith's eyes filled with tears. + +"And Jamie is included in the invitation. He is to come also, and help +my father to stuff the birds of Portugal. A new ornithological field +is opening before him, he says and he must have help in it." + +"I cannot," said Judith, in a low tone, with her head sunk on her +breast. "I cannot leave here till Captain Coppinger gives me leave." + +"But, surely, you are no longer bound to him?" + +"He holds me faster than before." + +"I cannot understand this." + +"No; because you do not know all." + +"Tell me the whole truth. Let me help you. Let my father help you. You +little know how we both have our hearts in your service." + +"Well, I will tell you." + +But she hesitated and trembled. She fixed her eyes on the wild, +foaming, leaden sea, and pressed her bosom with both hands. + +"I poisoned him." + +"Judith!" + +"It is true, I gave him arsenic, once; that your father had let me +have for Jamie. If he had taken it the second time, when I offered it +him in his bowl of porridge, he would be dead now. Do you see--he +holds me in his hands and I cannot stir. I could not escape till I +know what he intends to do with me. Now go--leave me to my fate." + +"Judith--it is not true! Though I hear this from your lips I will not +believe it. No; you need my father's, you need my help more than +ever." He put her hand to his lips. "It is white--innocent. I _know_ +it, in spite of your words." + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + +TWO ALTERNATIVES. + + +When Judith returned to Othello Cottage, she was surprised to see a +man promenading around it, flattening his nose at the window, so as to +bring his eyes against the glass, then, finding that the breath from +his nostrils dimmed the pane, wiping the glass and again flattening +his nose. At first he held his hands on the window-ledge, but being +incommoded by the refraction of the light, put his open hands against +the pane, one on each side of his face. Having satisfied himself at +one casement, he went to another, and made the same desperate efforts +to see in at that. + +Judith coming up to the door, and putting the key in, disturbed him, +he started, turned, and with a nose much like putty, but rapidly +purpling with returned circulation, disclosed the features of Mr. +Scantlebray, Senior. + +"Ah, ha!" said that gentleman, in no way disconcerted; "here I have +you, after having been looking for my orphing charmer in every +direction but the right one. With your favor I will come inside and +have a chat." + +"Excuse me," said Judith, "but I do not desire to admit visitors." + +"But I am an exception. I'm the man who should have looked after your +interests, and would have done it a deal better than others. And so +there has been a rumpus, eh? What about?" + +"I really beg your pardon, Mr. Scantlebray, but I am engaged and +cannot ask you to enter, nor delay conversing with you on the +doorstep." + +"Oh, Jimminy! don't consider me. I'll stand on the doorstep and talk +with you inside. Don't consider me; go on with what you have to do and +let me amuse you. It must be dull and solitary here, but I will +enliven you, though I have not my brother's gifts. Now, Obadiah is a +man with a genius for entertaining people. He missed his way when he +started in life; he would have made a comic actor. Bless your simple +heart, had that man appeared on the boards, he would have brought the +house down--" + +"I have no doubt whatever he missed his way when he took to keeping an +asylum," said Judith. + +"We have all our gifts," said Scantlebray. "Mine is architecture, and +'pon my honor as a gentleman, I do admire the structure of Othello +Cottage, uncommon. You won't object to my pulling out my tape and +taking the plan of the edifice, will you?" + +"The house belongs to Captain Coppinger; consult him." + +"My dear orphing, not a bit. I'm not on the best terms with that gent. +There lies a tract of ruffled water between us. Not that I have given +him cause for offence, but that he is not sweet upon me. He took off +my hands the management of your affairs in the valuation business, and +let me tell you--between me and you and that post yonder"--he walked +in and laid his hand on a beam--"that he mismanaged it confoundedly. +He is your husband, I am well aware, and I ought not to say this to +you. He took the job into his hands because he had an eye to you, I +knew that well enough. But he hadn't the gift--the faculty. Now I have +made all that sort of thing my specialty. How many rooms have you in +this house? What does that door lead to?" + +"Really, Mr. Scantlebray, you must excuse me; I am busy." + +"O, yes--vastly busy. Walking on the cliffs, eh! Alone, eh? Well, mum +is the word. Come, make me your friend and tell me all about it. How +came you here? There are all kind of stories afloat about the quarrel +between you and your husband, and he is an Eolus, a Blustering Boreas, +all the winds in one box. Not surprised. He blew up a gale against me +once. Domestic felicity is a fable of the poets. Home is a region of +cyclones, tornadoes, hurricanes--what you like; anything but a Pacific +Ocean. Now, you won't mind my throwing an eye round this house, will +you--a scientific eye? Architecture is my passion." + +"Mr. Scantlebray, that is my bedroom; I forbid you touching the +handle. Excuse me--but I must request you to leave me in peace." + +"My dear creature," said Scantlebray, "scientific thirst before all. +It is unslakable save by the acquisition of what it desires. The +structure of this house, as well as its object, has always been a +puzzle to me. So your aunt was to have lived here--the divine, the +fascinating Dionysia, as I remember her years ago. It wasn't built for +the lovely Dionysia, was it? No. Then for what object was it built? +And why so long untenanted? These are nuts for you to crack." + +"I do not trouble myself about these questions. I must pray you to +depart." + +"In half the twinkle of an eye," said Scantlebray. Then he seated +himself. "Come, you haven't a superabundance of friends. Make me one +and unburden your soul to me. What is it all about? Why are you here? +What has caused this squabble? I have a brother a solicitor at Bodmin. +Let me jot down the items, and we'll get a case out of it. Trust me as +a friend, and I'll have you righted. I hear Miss Trevisa has come in +for a fortune. Be a good girl, set your back against her and show +fight." + +"I will thank you to leave the house," said Judith, haughtily. "A +moment ago you made reference to your honor as a gentleman. I must +appeal to that same honor which you pride yourself on possessing, and, +by virtue of that, request you to depart." + +"I'll go, I'll go. But, my dear child, why are you in such a hurry to +get rid of me? Are you expecting some one? It is an odd thing, but as +I came along I was overtaken by Mr. Oliver Menaida, making his way to +the downs--to look at the sea, which is rough, and inhale the breeze +of the ocean, of course. At one time, I am informed, you made daily +visits to Polzeath, daily visits while Captain Coppinger was on the +sea. Since his return, I am informed, these visits have been +discontinued. Is it possible that instead of your visiting Mr. Oliver, +Mr. Oliver is now visiting you--here, in this cottage?" + +A sudden slash across the back and shoulders made Mr. Scantlebray jump +and bound aside. Coppinger had entered, and was armed with a stout +walking-stick. + +"What brings you here?" he asked. + +"I came to pay my respects to the grass-widow," sneered Scantlebray, +as he sidled to the door and bolted, but not till, with a face full of +malignity, he had shaken his fist at Coppinger, behind his back. + +"What brings this man here?" asked the Captain. + +"Impertinence--nothing else," answered Judith. + +"What was that he said about Oliver Menaida?" + +"His insolence will not bear reporting." + +"You are right. He is a cur, and deserves to be kicked, not spoken to +or spoken of. I heed him not. There is in him a grudge against me. He +thought at one time that I would have taken his daughter--do you +recall speaking to me once about the girl that you supposed was a fit +mate for me! I laughed--I thought you had heard the chatter about +Polly Scantlebray and me. A bold, fine girl, full of blood as a cherry +is full of juice--one of the stock--but with better looks than the +men, yet with the assurance, the effrontery of her father. A girl to +laugh and talk with, not to take to one's heart. I care for Polly +Scantlebray! Not I! That man has never forgiven me the disappointment +because I did not take her. I never intended to. I despised her. Now +you know all. Now you see why he hates me. I do not care. I am his +match. But I will not have him insolent to you. What did he say?" + +It was a relief to Judith that Captain Coppinger had not heard the +words that Mr. Scantlebray had used. They would have inflamed his +jealousy, and fired him into fury against the speaker. + +"He told me that he had been passed, on his way hither, by Mr. Oliver +Menaida, coming to the cliffs to inhale the sea air and look at the +angry ocean." + +Captain Coppinger was satisfied, or pretended to be so. He went to the +door and shut it, but not till he had gone outside and looked round to +see, so Judith thought, whether Oliver Menaida were coming that way, +quite as much as to satisfy himself that Mr. Scantlebray was not +lurking round a corner listening. + +No! Oliver Menaida would not come there. Of that Judith was quite +sure. He had the delicacy of mind and the good sense not to risk her +reputation by approaching Othello Cottage. When he had made that offer +to her she had known that his own heart spoke, but he had veiled its +speech and had made the offer as from his father, and in such a way as +not to offend her. Only when she had accused herself of attempted +murder did he break through his reserve to show her his rooted +confidence in her innocence, in spite of her confession. + +When the door was fast, Coppinger came over to Judith, and, standing +at a little distance from her, said: + +"Judith, look at me." + +She raised her eyes to him. He was pale and his face lined, but he had +recovered greatly since that day when she had seen him suffering from +the effects of the poison. + +"Judith," said he, "I know all." + +"What do you know?" + +"You did not poison me." + +"I mixed and prepared the bowl for you." + +"Yes--but the poison had been put into the oatmeal before, not by you, +not with your knowledge." + +She was silent. She was no adept at lying; she could not invent +another falsehood to convince him of her guilt. + +"I know how it all came about," pursued Captain Coppinger. "The cook, +Jane, has told me. Jamie came into the kitchen with a blue paper in +his hand, asked for the oatmeal, and put in the contents of the paper +so openly as not in the least to arouse suspicion. Not till I was +taken ill and made inquiries did the woman connect his act with what +followed. I have found the blue paper, and on it it is written, in Mr. +Menaida's handwriting, which I know, 'Arsenic. Poison: for Jamie, only +to be used for the dressing of bird-skins, and a limited amount to be +served to him at a time.' Now I am satisfied, because I know your +character, and because I saw innocence in your manner when you came +down to me on the second occasion, and dashed the bowl from my lips--I +saw then that you were innocent." + +Judith said nothing. Her eyes rested on the ground. + +"I had angered that fool of a boy, I had beaten him. In a fit of +sullen revenge, and without calculating either how best to do it, or +what the consequences would be, he went to the place where he knew the +arsenic was--Mr. Menaida had impressed on him the danger of playing +with the poison--and he abstracted it. But he had not the wit or +cunning generally present in idiots----" + +"He is no idiot," said Judith. + +"No, in fools," said Coppinger, "to put the poison into the oatmeal +secretly when no one was in the kitchen. He asked the cook for the +meal and mingled the contents of the paper into it so openly as to +disarm suspicion." + +He paused for Judith to speak, but she did not. + +He went on: "Then you, in utter guilelessness, prepared my breakfast +for me, as instructed by Miss Trevisa. Next morning you did the same, +but were either suspicious of evil through missing the paper from your +cabinet, or drawer, or wherever you kept it, or else Jamie confessed +to you what he had done. Thereupon you rushed to me to save me from +taking another portion. I do not know that I would have taken it; I +had formed a half-suspicion from the burning sensation in my throat, +and from what I saw in the spoon--but there was no doubt in my mind +after the first discovery that you were guiltless. I sought the whole +matter out, as far as I was able. Jamie is guilty--not you." + +"And," said Judith, drawing a long breath, "what about Jamie?" + +"There are two alternatives," said Coppinger; "the boy is dangerous. +Never again shall he come under my roof." + +"No," spoke Judith, "no, he must not go to the Glaze again. Let him +remain here with me. I will take care of him that he does mischief to +no one. He would never have hurt you had not you hurt him. Forgive +him, because he was aggravated to it by the unjust and cruel treatment +he received." + +"The boy is a mischievous idiot," said Coppinger; "he must not be +allowed to be at large." + +"What, then, are your alternatives?" + +"In the first place, I propose to send him back to that establishment +whence he should never have been released, to Scantlebray's Asylum." + +"No--no--no!" gasped Judith. "You do not know what that place is. I +do. I got into it. I saw how Jamie had been treated." + +"He cannot be treated too severely. He is dangerous. You refuse this +alternative?" + +"Yes, indeed, I do." + +"Very well. Then I put the matter in the hands of justice, and he is +proceeded against and convicted as having attempted my life with +poison. To jail he will go." + +It was as Judith had feared. There were but two destinations for +Jamie, her dear, dear brother, the son of that blameless father--jail +or an asylum. + +"Oh, no! no--no! not that!" cried Judith. + +"One or the other. I give you six hours to choose," said Coppinger. +Then he went to the door, opened it, and stood looking seaward. +Suddenly he started, "Ha! the Black Prince." He turned in the door and +said to Judith: "One hour after sunset come to Pentyre Glaze. Come +alone, and tell me your decision. I will wait for that." + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + +NOTHING LIKE GROG. + + +The Black Prince had been observed by Oliver Menaida. He did not know +for certain that the vessel he saw in the offing was the smuggler's +ship, but he suspected it, as he knew that Coppinger was in daily +expectation of her arrival. He brought his father to the cliffs, and +the old man at once identified her. + +Oliver considered what was to be done. + +A feint was to be made at a point lower down the coast so as to +attract the coast-guard in that direction; whereas, she was to run for +Pentyre as soon as night fell, with all lights hidden, and to +discharge her cargo in the little cove. + +Oliver knew pretty well who was confederate with Coppinger, or were in +his employ. His father was able to furnish him with a good deal of +information, not perhaps very well authenticated, all resting on +gossip. He resolved to have a look at these men, and observe whether +they were making preparations to assist Coppinger in clearing the +Black Prince the moment she arrived off the cove. But he found that he +had not far to look. They were drawn to the cliffs one after another +to observe the distant vessel. + +Oliver now made his way to the coast-guard station, and to reach it +went round by Wadebridge, and this he did because he wished to avoid +being noticed going to the Preventive Station across the estuary at +the Doom Bar above St. Enodoc. On reaching his destination he was +shown into an ante-room, where he had to wait some minutes, because +the captain happened to be engaged. He had plenty to occupy his mind. +There was that mysterious confession of Judith that she had tried to +poison the man who persisted in considering himself as her husband, in +spite of her resistance, and who was holding her in a condition of +bondage in his house. Oliver did not for a moment believe that she +had intentionally sought his life. He had seen enough of her to gauge +her character, and he knew that she was incapable of committing a +crime. That she might have given poison in ignorance and by accident +was possible; how this had happened it was in vain for him to attempt +to conjecture; he could, however, quite believe that an innocent and +sensitive conscience like that of Judith might feel the pangs of +self-reproach when hurt had come to Coppinger through her negligence. + +Oliver could also believe that the smuggler captain attributed her act +to an evil motive. He was not the man to believe in guilelessness, and +when he found that he had been partly poisoned by the woman whom he +daily tortured almost to madness, he would at once conclude that a +premeditated attempt had been made on his life. What course would he +pursue? Would he make this wretched business public and bring a +criminal action against the unfortunate and unhappy girl who was +linked to him against her will? + +Oliver saw that if he could obtain Coppinger's arrest on some such a +charge as smuggling, he might prevent this scandal, and save Judith +from much humiliation and misery. He was therefore most desirous to +effect the capture of Coppinger at once and _flagrante delicto_. + +As he waited in the ante-room a harsh voice within was audible which +he recognized as that of Mr. Scantlebray. Presently the door was half +opened, and he heard the coast-guard captain say: + +"I trust you rewarded the fellow for his information. You may apply to +me----" + +"O royally, royally." + +"And for furnishing you with the code of signals?" + +"Imperially--imperially." + +"That is well--never underpay in these matters." + +"Do not fear! I emptied my pockets. And as to the information you have +received through me--rely on it as you would on the Bank of England." + +"You have been deceived and befooled," said Oliver, unable to resist +the chance of delivering a slap at a man for whom he entertained a +peculiar aversion, having heard much concerning him from his father. + +"What do you mean?" + +"That the shilling you gave the clerk for his information, and the +half-crown for his signal table were worth what you got--the +information was false, and was intended to mislead." + +Scantlebray colored purple. "What do you know? You know nothing. You +are in league with them." + +"Take care what you say," said Oliver. + +"I maintain," said Scantlebray, somewhat cowed by his demeanor, "that +what I have said to the captain here is something of which you know +nothing--and which is of importance to him to know." + +"And I maintain that you have been hoodwinked," answered Oliver. "But +it matters not. The event will prove which of us is on the right +track." + +"Yes," laughed Scantlebray, "so be it; and let me bet you, Captain, +and you Mr. Oliver Menaida--that I am on the scent of something else. +I believe I know where Coppinger keeps his stores, and--but you shall +see, and Captain Cruel also, ha, ha!" + +Rubbing his hands he went out. + +Then Oliver begged a word with the Preventive captain, and told him +what he had overheard, and also that he knew where was the cave in +which the smugglers had their boat and to which they ran the cargo +first, before removing it to their inland stores. + +"I'm not so certain the Black Prince dare venture nigh the coast +to-night," said the Captain, "because of the sea and the on-shore +wind. But the glass is rising and the wind may change. Then she'll +risk it for certain. Now, look you here. I can't go with you myself +to-night, because I must be here; and I can only let you have six +men." + +"That will suffice." + +"Under Wyvill. I cannot, of course, put them under you, but Wyvill +shall command. He bears a grudge against Coppinger, and will be +rejoiced to have the chance of paying it out. But, mind you, it is +possible that the Black Prince dare not run in, because of the +weather, at Pentyre Cove, she may run somewhere else, either down the +coast or higher up. Coppinger has other ovens than one. You know the +term. His store-places are ovens. We can't find them, but we know that +there are several of them along the coast, just as there are a score +of landing-places. When one is watched, then another is used, and +that is how we are thrown out. There are plenty of folk interested in +defrauding the revenue in every parish between Hartland and Land's +End, and let the Black Prince, or any other smuggling vessel appear +where she will, there she has ready helpers to shore her cargo, and +convey it to the ovens. When we appear it is signalled at once to the +vessel, and she runs away up or down the coast, and discharges +somewhere else, before we can reach the point. Now, I do not say that +what you tell me is not true, and that it is not Coppinger's intent to +land the goods in the Pentyre Cove, but if we are smelt, or if the +wind or sea forbid a landing there, away goes the Black Prince and +runs her cargo somewhere else. That is why I cannot accompany you, nor +can I send you with more than half a dozen men. I must be on the look +out, and I must be prepared in the event of her coming suddenly back +and attempting to land her goods at Porth-leze, or Constantine, or +Harlyn. What you shall do is--remain here with me till near dusk, and +then you shall have a boat and my men and get round Pentyre, and you +shall take possession of that cave. You shall take with you provisions +for twenty-four hours. If the Black Prince intends to make that bay +and discharge there, then she will wait her opportunity. If she cannot +to-night, she will to-morrow night. Now, seize every man who comes +into that cave, and don't let him out. You see?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Very well. Wyvill shall be in command, and you shall be the guide, +and I will speak to him to pay proper attention to what you recommend. +You see?" + +"Exactly." + +"Very well--now we shall have something to eat and to drink, which is +better, and drink that is worth the drinking, which is best of all. +Here is some cognac, it was run goods that we captured and +confiscated. Look at it. I wish there were artificial light and you +would see, it is liquid amber--a liqueur. When you've tasted that, +ah-ha! you will say, 'Glad I lived to this moment.' There is all the +difference, my boy, between your best cognac and common brandy--the +one, the condensed sunshine in the queen of fruit sublimed to an +essence; the other, coarse, raw fire--all the difference that there is +between a princess of blood royal and a gypsy wench. Drink and do not +fear. This is not the stuff to smoke the head and clog the stomach." + +When Oliver Menaida finally started, he left the first officer of the +coast-guard, in spite of his assurances, somewhat smoky in brain, and +not in the condition to form the clearest estimate of what should be +done in a contingency. The boat was laden with provisions for +twenty-four hours, and placed under the command of Wyvill. + +The crew had not rowed far before one of them sang out: + +"Gearge!" + +"Aye, aye, mate!" responded Wyvill. + +"I say, Gearge. Be us a going round Pentyre?" + +"I reckon we be." + +"And wet to the marrowbone we shall be." + +"I reckon we shall." + +Then a pause in the conversation. Presently from another, "Gearge!" + +"Aye, aye, Will!" + +"I say Gearge! where be the spirits to? There's a keg o' water, but +sure alive the spirits be forgotten." + +"Bless my body!" exclaimed Wyvill, "I reckon you're right. Here's a +go." + +"It will never do for us to be twenty-four hours wi' salt water +outside of us and fresh wi'in," said Will. "What's a hat wi'out a head +in it, or boots wi'out feet in 'em, or a man wi'out spirits in his +in'ard parts?" + +"Dear, alive! 'Tis a nuisance," said Wyvill. "Who's been the idiot to +forget the spirits?" + +"Gearge!" + +"Aye, aye, Samson!" + +"I say, Gearge! hadn't us better run over to the Rock and get a little +anker there?" + +"I reckon it wouldn't be amiss, mate," responded Wyvill. To Oliver's +astonishment and annoyance, the boat was turned to run across to a +little tavern, at what was called "The Rock." + +He remonstrated. This was injudicious and unnecessary. + +"Onnecessary," said Wyvill. "Why, you don't suppose fire-arms will go +off wi'out a charge? It's the same wi' men. What's the good of a human +being unless he be loaded--and what's his proper load but a drop o' +spirits." + +Then one of the rowers sang out: + + "Water-drinkers are dull asses + When they're met together. + Milk is meat for infancy; + Ladies like to sip Bohea; + Not such stuff for you and me, + When we're met together." + +Oliver was not surprised that so few captures were effected on the +coast, when those set to watch it loved so dearly the very goods they +were to watch against being imported untaxed. + +On reaching the shore, the man Samson and another were left in charge +of the boat, while Wyvill, Will, and the rest went up to the Rock Inn +to have a glass for the good of the house, and to lade themselves with +an anker of brandy which, during their wait in the cave, was to be +distributed among them. Oliver thought it well to go to the tavern as +well. He was impatient and thought they would dawdle there, and, +perhaps, take more than the nip to which they professed themselves +content to limit themselves. Pentyre Point had to be rounded in rough +water, and they must be primed to enable them to round Pentyre. + +"You see," said Wyvill, who seemed to suppose that some sort of an +explanation of his conduct was due. "When ropes be dry they be +terrible slack. Wet 'em and they are taut. It is the same wi' men's +muscles. We've Pentyre Point to get round. Very strainin' to the arms, +and I reckon it couldn't be done unless we wetted the muscles. That's +reason. That's convincin'." + +At the Rock Tavern the Preventive men found the clerk of S. Enodoc, +with his hands in his pockets, on the settle, his legs stretched out +before him, considering one of his knees that was threadbare, and +trying to make up his mind whether the trouser would hold out another +day without a thread being run through the thin portion, and whether +if a day, then perhaps two days, and if perchance for two days, then +for three. But if for three, then why not for four! And if for four, +then possibly for five--anyhow, as far as he could judge, there was no +immediate call for him to have the right knee of his trouser repaired +that day. + +The sexton-clerk looked up when the party entered, and greeted them +each man by name, and a conversation ensued relative to the weather. +Each described his own impressions as to what the weather had been, +and his anticipations as to what it would be. + +"And how's your missus?" + +"Middlin'--and yours?" + +"Same, thanky'. A little troubled wi' the rheumatics." + +"Tell her to take a lump o' sugar wi' five drops o' turpentine." + +"I will, thanky"--and so on for half an hour, at the end of which time +the party thought it time to rise, wipe their mouths, shoulder the +anker, and return to the boat. + +No sooner were they in it, and had thrust off from shore, and prepared +to make a second start, than Oliver touched Wyvill and said, pointing +to the land, "Look yonder." + +"What!" + +"There is that clerk. Running, actually running." + +"I reckon he be." + +"And in the direction of Pentyre." + +"So he be, I reckon." + +"And what do you think of that?" + +"Nothing," answered Wyvill, confusedly. "Why should I? He can't say +nothing about where we be going. Not a word of that was said while us +was there. I don't put no store on his running." + +"I do," said Oliver, unable to smother his annoyance. "This folly will +spoil our game." + +Wyvill muttered, "I reckon I'm head of the consarn and not you." + +Oliver deemed it advisable, as the words were said low, to pretend +that he did not hear them. + +The wind had somewhat abated, but the sea was running furiously round +Pentyre. Happily the tide was going out, so that tide and wind were +conflicting, and this enabled the rowers to get round Pentyre between +the Point and the Newland Isle, that broke the force of the seas. But +when past the shelter of Newland, doubling a spur of Pentyre that ran +to the north, the rowers had to use their utmost endeavors, and had +not their muscles been moistened they might possibly have declared it +impossible to proceed. It was advisable to run into the cove just +after dark, and before the turn of the tide, as, in the event of the +Black Prince attempting to land her cargo there, it would be made with +the flow of the tide, and in the darkness. + +The cove was reached and found to be deserted. Oliver showed the way, +and the boat was driven up on the shingle and conveyed into the +smugglers' cave behind the rock curtain. No one was there. Evidently, +from the preparations made, the smugglers were ready for the run of +the cargo that night. + +"Now," said Will, one of the Preventive men, "us hev' a' labored +uncommon. What say you, mates? Does us desarve a drop of refreshment +or does us not? Every man as does his dooty by his country and his +king should be paid for 't, is my doctrine. What do y' say, Gearge? +Sarve out the grog?" + +"I reckon yes. Sarve out the grog. There's nothing like grog--I think +it was Solomon said that, and he was the wisest of men." + +"For sure; he made a song about it," said one of the coast-guard. "It +begins: + + "'A plague of those musty old lubbers, + Who tell us to fast and to think. + And patient fall in with life's rubbers, + With nothing but water to drink.'" + +"To be sure," responded Wyvill, "never was a truer word said than when +Solomon was called the wisest o' men." + + + + +CHAPTER L. + +PLAYING FORFEITS. + + +"Here am I once more," said Mr. Scantlebray, walking into Othello +Cottage with a rap at the door but without waiting for an invitation +to enter. "Come back like the golden summer, but at a quicker rate. +How are you all? I left you rather curtly--without having had time to +pay my proper _congé_." + +Judith and Jamie were sitting over the fire. No candle had been +lighted, for, though a good many things had been brought over to +Othello Cottage for their use, candles had been forgotten, and Judith +did not desire to ask for more than was furnished her, certainly not +to go to the Glaze for the things needed. They had a fire, but not one +that blazed. It was of drift-wood, that smouldered and would not +flame, and as it burned emitted a peculiar odor. + +Jamie was in good spirits, he chattered and laughed, and Judith made +pretence that she listened, but her mind was absent, she had cares +that had demands on every faculty of her mind. Moreover, now and then +her thoughts drifted off to a picture that busy fancy painted and +dangled before them--of Portugal, with its woods of oranges, golden +among the burnished leaves, and its vines hung with purple +grapes--with its glowing sun, its blue glittering sea--and, above all, +she mused on the rest from fears, the cessation from troubles which +would have ensued, had there been a chance for her to accept the offer +made, and to have left the Cornish coast for ever. + +Looking into the glowing ashes, listening to her thoughts as they +spoke, and seeming to attend to the prattle of the boy, Judith was +surprised by the entry of Mr. Scantlebray. + +"There--disengaged, that is capital," said the agent. "The very thing +I hoped. And now we can have a talk. You have never understood that I +was your sincere friend. You have turned from me and looked elsewhere, +and now you suffer for it. But I am like all the best metal--strong +and bright to the last; and see--I have come to you now to forewarn +you, because I thought that if it came on you all at once there would +be trouble and bother." + +"Thank you, Mr. Scantlebray. It is true that we are not busy just now, +but it does not follow that we are disposed for a talk. It is growing +dark, and we shall lock up the cottage and go to bed." + +"Oh, I will not detain you long. Besides I'll take the wish out of +your heart for bed in one jiffy. Look here--read this. Do you know the +handwriting?" + +He held out a letter. Judith reluctantly took it. She had risen; she +had not asked Scantlebray to take a seat. + +"Yes," she said, "that is the writing of Captain Coppinger." + +"A good bold hand," said the agent, "and see here is his seal with his +motto, _Thorough_. You know that?" + +"Yes--it is his seal." + +"Now read it." + +Judith knelt at the hearth. + +"Blow, blow the fire up, my beauty," called Scantlebray to Jamie. +"Don't you see that your sister wants light, and is running the risk +of blinding her sweet pretty eyes." Jamie puffed vigorously and sent +out sparks snapping and blinking, and brought the wood to a white +glow, by which Judith was able to decipher the letter. + +It was a formal order from Cruel Coppinger to Mr. Obadiah Scantlebray +to remove James Trevisa that evening, after dark, from Othello Cottage +to his idiot asylum, to remain there in custody till further notice. +Judith remained kneeling, with her eyes on the letter, after she had +read it. She was considering. It was clear to her that directly after +leaving her Captain Coppinger had formed his own resolve, either +impatient of waiting the six hours he had allowed her, or because he +thought the alternative of the Asylum the only one that could be +accepted by her, and it was one that would content himself, as the +only one that avoided exposure of a scandal. But there were other +asylums than that of Scantlebray, and others were presumably better +managed, and those in charge less severe in their dealings. She had +considered this, as she looked into the fire. But a new idea had also +at the same time lightened in her mind, and she had a third +alternative to propose. + +She had been waiting for the moment when to go to the Glaze and see +Coppinger, and just at the moment when she was about to send Jamie to +bed and leave the house Scantlebray came in. + +"Now then," said the agent, "what do you think of me--that I am a real +friend?" + +"I thank you for having told me this," answered Judith, "and now I +will go to Pentyre. I beg that you will not allow my brother to be +conveyed away during my absence. Wait till I return. Perhaps Captain +Coppinger may not insist on the removal at once. If you are a real +friend, as you profess, you will do this for me." + +"I will do it willingly. That I am a real friend I have shown you by +my conduct. I have come beforehand to break news to you which might +have been too great and too overwhelming had it come on you suddenly. +My brother and a man or two will be here in an hour. Go by all means +to Captain Cruel, but," Scantlebray winked an eye, "I don't myself +think you will prevail with him." + +"I will thank you to remain here for half an hour with Jamie," said +Judith, coldly. "And to stay all proceedings till my return. If I +succeed--well. If not, then only a few minutes have been lost. I have +that to say to Captain Coppinger which may, and I trust will, lead him +to withdraw that order." + +"Rely on me. I am a rock on which you may build," said Scantlebray. "I +will do my best to entertain your brother, though, alas! I have not +the abilities of Obadiah, who is a genius, and can keep folks hour by +hour going from one roar of laughter into another." + +No sooner was Judith gone than Scantlebray put his tongue into one +side of his cheek, clicked, pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, +and seated himself opposite Jamie on the stool beside the fire which +had been vacated by Judith. Jamie had understood nothing of the +conversation that had taken place, his name had not been mentioned, +and consequently his attention had not been drawn to it away from some +chestnuts he had found, or which had been given to him, that he was +baking in the ashes on the hearth. + +"Fond of hunting, eh?" asked Scantlebray, stretching his legs and +rubbing his hands. "You are like me--like to be in at the death. What +do you suppose I have in my pocket? Why, a fox with a fiery tail. +Shall we run him to earth? Shall we make an end of him? Tally-ho! +Tally-ho! here he is. Oh, sly Reynard, I have you by the ears." And +forth from the tail-pocket of his coat Scantlebray produced a bottle +of brandy. "What say you, corporal, shall we drink his blood? Bring me +a couple of glasses and I'll pour out his gore." + +"I haven't any," said Jamie. "Ju and I have two mugs, that is all." + +"And they will do famously. Here goes--off with the mask!" and with a +blow he knocked away the head and cork of the bottle. "No more running +away for you, my beauty, except down our throats. Mugs! That is +famous. Come, shall we play at army and navy, and the forfeit be a +drink of Reynard's blood?" + +Jamie pricked up his ears; he was always ready for a game of play. + +"Look here," said Scantlebray. "You are in the military, I am in the +nautical line. Each must address the other by some title in accordance +with the profession each professes, and the forfeit of failure is a +pull at the bottle. What do you say! I will begin. Set the bottle +there between us. Now then, Sergeant, they tell me your aunt has come +in for a fortune. How much? What is the figure, eh?" + +"I don't know," responded Jamie, and was at once caught up with +"Forfeit! forfeit!" + +"Oh, by Jimminy, there am I, too, in the same box. Take your swig, +Commander, and pass to me." + +"But what am I to call you?" asked the puzzle-headed boy. + +"Mate, or captain, or boatswain, or admiral." + +"I can't remember all that." + +"Mate will do. Always say mate, whatever you ask or answer. Do you +understand, General!" + +"Yes." + +"Forfeit! forfeit! You should have said 'Yes, mate.'" Mr. Scantlebray +put his hands to his sides and laughed. "Oh, Jimminy! there am I +again. The instructor as bad as the pupil. I'm a bad fellow as +instructor, that I am, Field-Marshal. So--your Aunt Dionysia has come +in for some thousands of pounds--how many do you think! Have you +heard?" + +"I think I've heard----" + +"Mate! Mate!" + +"I think I've heard, Mate." + +"Now, how many do you remember to have heard named? Was it five +thousand? That is what I heard named--eh, Captain?" + +"Oh, more than that," said Jamie, in his small mind catching at a +chance of talking-big, "a great lot more than that." + +"What, ten thousand?" + +"I dare say; yes, I think so." + +"Forfeit! forfeit! pull again, Centurion." + +"Yes, Mate, I'm sure." + +"Ten thousand--why, at five per cent. that's a nice little sum for you +and Ju to look forward to when the old hull springs a leak and goes to +the bottom." + +"Yes," answered Jamie, vaguely. He could not look beyond the day, +moreover he did not understand the figurative speech of his comrade. + +"Forfeit again, General! But I'll forgive you this time, or you'll get +so drunk you'll not be able to answer me a question. Bless my legs and +arms! on that pretty little sum one could afford one's self a new tie +every Sunday. You will prove a beau and buck indeed some day, Captain +of Thousands! And then you won't live in this little hole. By the way, +I hear old Dunes Trevisa, I beg pardon, Field-Marshal Sir James, I +mean your much respected aunt, Miss Trevisa, has got a charming box +down by S. Austell. You'll ask me down for the shooting, won't you, +Commander-in-Chief?" + +"Yes, I will," answered Jamie. + +"And you'll give me the best bedroom, and will have choice dinners, +and the best old tawny port, eh?" + +"Yes, to be sure," said the boy, flattered. + +"Mate! mate! forfeit! and I suppose you'll keep a hunter?" + +"I shall have two--three," said Jamie. + +"And if I were you, I'd keep a pack of fox-hounds." + +"I will." + +"That's for the winter, and other hounds for the summer." + +"I am sure I will, and wear a red coat." + +"Famous! but--there I spare you this time--you forfeited again." + +"No, I won't be spared," protested the boy. + +"As for a wretched little hole like this Othello Cottage----" said +Scantlebray. "But, by the bye, you have never shown me over the house. +How many rooms are there in it, Generalissimo of His Majesty's +Forces!" + +"There's my bedroom there," said Jamie. + +"Yes; and that door leads to your sister's?" + +"Yes. And there's the kitchen." + +"And up-stairs!" + +"There's no up-stairs." + +"Now, you are very clever--clever. By Ginger, you must be to be +Commander-in-chief; but 'pon my word, I can't believe that. No +up-stairs. There must be up-stairs." + +"No, there's not." + +"But by Jimminy! with such a roof as this house has got, and a little +round window in the gable. There must be an up-stairs." + +"No there's not." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"Because there are no stairs at all." Then Jamie jumped up, but rolled +on one side, the brandy he had drunk had made him unsteady. "I'll show +you mate--mate--yes, mate. There three times now will do for times I +haven't said it. There--in my room. The floor is rolling; it won't +stay steady. There are cramps in the wall, no stairs, and so you get +up to where it all is." + +"All what is?" + +"Forfeit, forfeit!" shouted Jamie. "Say general or something military. +I don't know. Ju won't let me go up there; but there's tobacco, for +one thing." + +"Where's a candle, Corporal?" + +"There is none. We have no light but the fire." Then Jamie dropped +back on his stool, unable to keep his legs. + +"I am more provident than you. I have a lantern outside, unlighted, as +I thought I might need it on my return. The nights close in very fast +and very dark now, eh, Commander?" + +Mr. Scantlebray went outside the cottage, looked about him, specially +directing his eyes toward the Glaze. Then he chuckled and said: + +"Sent Miss Judith on a wild goose chase, have I? Ah ha! Captain +Coppinger, I'll have a little entertainment for you to-night. The +preventives will snatch your goods at Porth-leze or Constantine, and +here--behind your back--I'll attend to your store of tobacco and +whatever else I may find." + +Then he returned and going to the fire extracted the candle from the +lantern and lighted it at a burning log. + +"Halloa, Captain of thousands! Going to sleep? There's the bottle. You +must make up forfeits. You've been dishonest I fear and not paid half. +That door did you say?" + +But Jamie was past understanding a question, and Mr. Scantlebray could +find out for himself now what he wanted to know. That this house had +been used by Coppinger as a store for some of the smuggled cargoes he +had long suspected, but he had never been able to obtain any evidence +which would justify the coast-guard in applying to the justices for a +search-warrant. Now he would be able to look about it at his leisure, +while Judith was absent. He did not suppose Coppinger was at the +Glaze. He assumed that an attempt would be made, as the clerk of St. +Enodoc had informed him, to land the cargo of the Black Prince to the +west of the estuary of the Camel, and he supposed that Coppinger would +be there to superintend. He had used the letter sent to his brother to +induce the girl to go to Pentyre, and so leave the cottage clear for +him to search it. + +Now, holding the candle, he entered the bedroom of Jamie, and soon +perceived the cramps the boy had spoken of that served in place of +stairs. Above was a door into the attic, whitewashed over, like the +walls. Mr. Scantlebray climbed, thrust open the door and crept into +the garret. + +"Ah, ha!" said the valuer. "So, so, Captain! I have come on one of +your lairs at last. And I reckon I will make it warm for you. But, by +Ginger, it is a pity I can't remove some of what is here." + +He prowled about in the roomy loft, searching every corner. There were +a few small kegs of spirit, but the stores were mostly of tobacco. + +In about ten minutes Mr. Scantlebray reappeared in the room where was +Jamie. He was without his candle. The poor boy, overcome by what he +had drunk, had fallen on the floor and was in a tipsy sleep. + +Scantlebray went to him. + +"Come along with me," he said. "Come, there is no time to be lost. +Come, you fool!" + +He shook him, but Jamie would not be roused, he kicked and struck out +with his fists. + +"You won't come? I'll make you." + +Then Scantlebray caught the boy by the shoulders to drag him to the +door. The child began to struggle and resist. + +"Oh! I'm not concerned for you, fool," said Scantlebray. "If you like +to stay and take your chance--my brother will be here to carry you off +presently. Will you come?" + +Scantlebray caught the boy by the feet and tried to drag him, but +Jamie clung to the table-legs. + +Scantlebray uttered an oath--"Stay, you fool, and be smothered! The +world will get on very well without you." + +And he strode forth from the cottage. + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + +SURRENDER. + + +Scantlebray was mistaken. Coppinger had not crossed the estuary of the +Camel. He was at Pentyre Glaze awaiting the time when the tide suited +for landing the cargo of the Black Prince. In the kitchen were a +number of men having their supper and drinking, waiting also for the +proper moment when to issue forth. + +At the turn of the tide the Black Prince would approach in the +gathering darkness and would come as near in as she dare venture. The +wind had fallen, but the sea was running, and with the tide setting in +she would approach the cove. + +Judith hastened toward the Glaze. Darkness had set in, but in the +north were auroral lights, first a great, white halo, then rays that +shot up to the zenith, and then a mackerel sky of rosy light. The +growl and mutter of the sea filled the air with threat like an angry +multitude surging on with blood and destruction in their hearts. + +The flicker overhead gave Judith light for her cause; the snow had +melted except in ditches and under hedges, and there it glared red or +white in response to the changing, luminous tinges of the heavens. +When she reached the house she at once entered the hall; there +Coppinger was awaiting her. He knew she would come to him when her +mind was made up on the alternatives he had offered her, and he +believed he knew pretty surely which she would choose. It was because +he expected her that he had not suffered the men collected for the +work of the night to invade the hall. + +"You are here," he said. He was seated by the fire; he looked up, but +did not rise. "Almost too late." + +"Almost, maybe, but not altogether," answered Judith. "And yet it +seems unnecessary, as you have already acted without awaiting my +decision." + +"What makes you say that?" + +"I have been shown your letter." + +"Oh! Obadiah Scantlebray is premature." + +"He is not at Othello Cottage yet. His brother came beforehand to +prepare me." + +"How considerate of your feelings," sneered Captain Cruel. "I would +not have expected that of Scantlebray." + +"You have not awaited my decision," said Judith. + +"That is true," answered Coppinger, carelessly. "I knew you would +shrink from the exposure, the disgrace of publication of what has +occurred here. I knew you so well that I could reckon beforehand on +what you would elect." + +"But, why to Scantlebray? Are there not other asylums?" + +"Yes: so long as that boy is placed where he can do no mischief, I +care not." + +"Then, if that be so, I have another proposal to make." + +"What is that?" Coppinger stood up. + +"If you have any regard for my feelings, any care for my happiness, +you will grant my request." + +"Let me hear it." + +"Mr. Menaida is going to Portugal." + +"What!"--in a tone of concentrated rage--"Oliver?" + +"Oliver and his father. But the proposal concerns the father." + +"Go on." Coppinger strode once across the room, then back again. "Go +on," he said, savagely. + +"Old Mr. Menaida offers to take Jamie with him. He intends to settle +at Oporto, near his son, who has been appointed to a good situation +there. He will gladly undertake the charge of Jamie. Let Jamie go with +them. There he can do no harm." + +"What, go--without you! Did they not want you to go, also?" + +Judith hesitated and flushed. There was a single tallow candle on the +table. Coppinger took it up, snuffed it, and held the flame to her +face to study its expression. "I thought so," he said, and put down +the light again. + +"Jamie is useful to Mr. Menaida," pleaded Judith, in some confusion, +and with a voice of tremulous apology. + +"He stuffs birds so beautifully, and Uncle Zachie--I mean Mr. +Menaida--has set his heart on making a collection of the Spanish and +Portuguese birds." + +"Oh, yes; he understands the properties of arsenic," said Coppinger, +with a scoff. + +Judith's eyes fell. Captain Cruel's tone was not reassuring. + +"You say that you care not where Jamie be, so long as he is where he +cannot hurt you," said Judith. + +"I did not say that," answered Coppinger. "I said that he must be +placed where he can injure no one." + +"He can injure no one if he is with Mr. Menaida, who will well watch +him, and keep him employed." + +Coppinger laughed bitterly. "And you? Will you be satisfied to have +the idolized brother with the deep seas rolling between you?" + +"I must endure it. It is the least of evils." + +"But you would be pining to have wings and fly over the sea to him." + +"If I have not wings I cannot go." + +"Now hearken," said Coppinger. He clinched his fist and laid it on the +table. "I know very well what this means. Oliver Menaida is at the +bottom of this. It is not the fool Jamie who is wanted in Portugal, +but the clever Judith. They have offered to take the boy, that through +him they may attract you, unless," his voice thrilled, "they have +already dared to propose that you should go with them." + +Judith was silent. + +Coppinger clinched his second hand and laid that also on the table. "I +swear to heaven," said he, "that if I and that Oliver Menaida meet +again, it is for the last time for one or other of us. We have met +twice already. It is an understood thing between us, when we meet +again, one wets his boots in the other's blood. Do you hear? The world +will not hold us two any longer. Portugal may be far off, but it is +too near Cornwall for me." + +Judith made no answer. She looked fixedly into the gloomy eyes of +Coppinger, and said-- + +"You have strange thoughts. Suppose--if you will--that the invitation +included me, I could not have accepted it." + +"Why not! You refuse to regard yourself as married, and if unmarried, +you are free--and if free, ready to elope with----" he would not utter +the name in his quivering fury. + +"I pray you," said Judith, offended, "do not insult me." + +"I--insult you? It is a daily insult to me to be treated as I have +been. It is driving me mad." + +"But, do you not see," urged Judith, "you have offered me two +alternatives and I ask for a third, yours are jail or an asylum, mine +is exile. Both yours are to me intolerable. Conceive of my state were +Jamie either in jail or with Mr. Scantlebray. In jail--and I should be +thinking of him all day and all night in his prison garb, tramping the +tread-mill, beaten, driven on, associated with the vilest of men, an +indelible stain put, not on him only, but on the name of our dear, +dear father. Do you think I could bear that? or take the other +alternative? I know the Scantlebrays. I should have the thoughts of +Jamie distressed, frightened, solitary, ill-treated, ever before me. I +had it for a few hours once and it drove me frantic. It would make me +mad in a week. I know that I could not endure it. Either alternative +would madden or kill me. And I offer another--if he were in exile, I +could at least think of him as happy among the orange groves, in the +vineyards, among kind friends, happy, innocent--at worst, forgetting +me. _That_ I could bear. But the other--no, not for a week--they would +be torture insufferable." She spoke full of feverish vehemence, with +her hands outspread before her. + +"And this smiling vision of Jamie happy in Portugal would draw your +heart from me." + +"You never had my heart," said Judith. + +Coppinger clinched his teeth. "I will hear no more of this," said he. + +Then Judith threw herself on her knees, and caught him and held him, +lifting her entreating face toward his. + +"I have undergone it--for some hours. I know it will madden or kill +me. I cannot--I cannot--I cannot," she could scarce breathe, she spoke +in gasps. + +"You cannot what?" he asked, sullenly. + +"I cannot live on the terms you offer. You take from me even the very +wish to live. Take away the arsenic from me--lest in madness I give +it to myself. Take me far inland from these cliffs--lest in my madness +I throw myself over--I could not bear it. Will nothing move you?" + +"Nothing." He stood before her, his feet apart, his arms folded, his +chin on his breast, looking into her uplifted, imploring face. +"Yes--one thing. One thing only." He paused, raking her face with his +eyes. "Yes--one thing. Be mine wholly--unconditionally. Then I will +consent. Be mine; add your name where it is wanting. Resume your +ring--and Jamie shall go with the Menaidas. Now, choose." + +He drew back. Judith remained kneeling, upright, on the floor with +arms extended--she had heard and at first hardly comprehended him. +Then she staggered to her feet. + +"Well," said Coppinger, "what answer do you make?" Still she could not +speak. She went to the table with uncertain steps. There was a wooden +form by it. She seated herself on this, placed her arms on the board, +joining her hands, and laid her head, face downward, between them on +the table. + +Coppinger remained where he was, watching and waiting. He knew what +her action implied--that she was to be left alone with her thoughts, +to form her resolve undisturbed. He remained, accordingly, motionless, +but with his eyes fixed on the golden hair that flickered in the dim +light of the one candle. The wick had a great fungus in it--so large +and glaring that in another moment it must fall, and fall on Judith's +hand. Coppinger saw this and he thrust forth his arm to snuff the +candle with his fingers, but his hand shook, and the light was +extinguished. It mattered not. There were glowing coals on the hearth, +and through the window flared and throbbed the auroral lights. + +A step sounded outside. Then a hand was on the door. Coppinger at once +strode across the hall, and arrested the intruder from entering. + +"Who is that?" + +"Hender Pendarvis"--the clerk of St. Enodoc. "I have some'ut +partickler I must say." + +Coppinger looked at Judith; she lay motionless, her head between her +arms on the board. He partly opened the door and stepped forth into +the porch. + +When he had heard what the clerk of St. Enodoc had to say, he +answered with an order, "Round to the kitchen--bid the men arm and go +by the beach." + +He returned into the hall, went to the fireplace and took down a pair +of pistols, tried them that they were charged, and thrust them into +his belt. + +Next he went up to Judith, and laid his hand on her shoulder. + +"Time presses," he said; "I have to be off. Your answer." She looked +up. The board was studded with drops of water. She had not wept, these +stains were not her tears, they were the sweat of anguish off her brow +that had run over the board. + +"Well, Judith, our answer." + +"I accept." + +"Unreservedly?" + +"Unreservedly." + +"Stay," said he. He spoke low, indistinctly articulated sentences. +"Let there be no holding back between us. You shall know all. You have +wondered concerning the death of Wyvill--I know you have asked +questions about it. I killed him." + +He paused. + +"You heard of the wreckers on that vessel cast on Doom Bar. I was +their leader." + +Again he paused. + +"You thought I had sent Jamie out with a light to mislead the vessel. +You thought right. I did have her drawn to her destruction, and by +your brother." + +He paused again. He saw Judith's hand twitch: that was the only sign +of emotion in her. + +"And Lady Knighton's jewels. I took them off her--it was I who tore +her ear." + +Again a stillness. The sky outside shone in at the window, a lurid +red. From the kitchen could be heard the voice of a man singing. + +"Now you know all," said Coppinger. "I would not have you take me +finally, fully, unreservedly without knowing the truth. Give me your +resolve." + +She slightly lifted her hands; she looked steadily into his face with +a stony expression in hers. + +"What is it!" + +"I cannot help myself--unreservedly yours." + +Then he caught her to him, pressed her to his heart and kissed her +wet face--wet as though she had plunged it into the sea. + +"To-morrow," said he, "to-morrow shall be our true wedding." + +And he dashed out of the house. + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + +TO JUDITH. + + +In the smugglers' cave were Oliver Menaida and the party of Preventive +men, not under his charge, but under that of Wyvill. This man, though +zealous in the execution of his duty, and not averse, should the +opportunity offer, of paying off a debt in full with a bullet, instead +of committing his adversary to the more lenient hands of the law, +shared in that failing, if it were a failing, of being unable to do +anything without being primed with spirits, a failing that was common +at that period, to coast-guards and smugglers alike. The latter had to +be primed in order to run a cargo, and the former must be in like +condition to catch them at it. It was thought, not unjustly, that the +magistrates before whom, if caught, the smugglers were brought, needed +priming in order to ripen their intellects for pronouncing judgment. +But it was not often that a capture was effected. When it was, priming +was allowed for the due solemnization of the fact by the captors; +failure always entitled them to priming in order to sustain their +disappointment with fortitude. Wyvill had lost a brother in the cause, +and his feelings often overcame him when he considered his loss, and +their poignancy had to be slaked with the usual priming. It served, as +its advocates alleged, as a great stimulant to courage; but it served +also, as its deprecators asserted, as a solvent to discipline. + +Now that the party were in possession of the den of their adversaries, +such a success needed, in their eyes, commemoration. They were likely, +speedily, to have a tussle with the smugglers, and to prepare +themselves for that required the priming of their nerves and sinews. +They had had a sharp struggle with the sea in rounding Pentyre Point, +and their unstrung muscles and joints demanded screwing up again by +the same means. + +The Black Prince had been discerned through the falling darkness +drawing shoreward with the rising tide; but it was certain that for +another hour or two the men would have to wait before she dropped +anchor, and those ashore came down to the unloading. + +A lantern was lighted, and the cave was explored. Certainly +Coppinger's men from the land would arrive before the boats from the +Black Prince, and it was determined to at once arrest them, and then +await the contingent in the boats, and fall on them as they landed. +The party was small, it consisted of but seven men, and it was +advisable to deal with the smugglers piecemeal. + +The men, having leisure, brought out their food, and tapped the keg +they had procured at the Rock. It was satisfactory to them that the +Black Prince was apparently bent on discharging the cargo that night +and in that place, thus they would not have to wait in the cave +twenty-four hours, and not, after all, be disappointed. + +"All your pistols charged?" asked Wyvill. + +"Aye, aye, sir." + +"Then take your suppers while you may. We shall have hot work +presently. Should a step be heard below, throw a bit o' sailcloth over +the lantern, Samson." + +Oliver was neither hungry nor thirsty. He had both eaten and drunk +sufficient when at the station. He therefore left the men to make +their collation, prime their spirits, pluck up their courage, screw up +their nerves, polish their wits, all with the same instrument, and +descended the slope of shingle, stooped under the brow of rock that +divided the lower from the upper cave, and made his way to the +entrance, and thence out over the sands of the cove. He knew that the +shore could be reached only by the donkey-path, or by the dangerous +track down the chimney--a track he had not discovered till he had made +a third exploration of the cave. Down this tortuous and perilous +descent he was convinced the smugglers would not come. It was, he saw, +but rarely used, and designed as a way of escape only on an emergency. +A too-frequent employment of this path would have led to a treading of +the turf on the cliff above, and to a marking of the line of descent, +that would have attracted the attention of the curious, and revealed +to the explorer the place of retreat. + +Oliver, therefore, went forward toward the point where the donkey-path +reached the sands, deeming it advisable that a watch should be kept +on this point, so that his party might be forewarned in time of the +approach of the smugglers. + +There was much light in the sky, a fantastic, mysterious glow, as +though some great conflagration were taking place and the clouds over +head reflected its flicker. + +There passed throbs of shadow from side to side, and as Oliver looked +he could almost believe that the light he saw proceeded from a great +bonfire, such as was kindled on the Cornish Moors on Midsummer's Eve, +and that the shadows were produced by men and women dancing round the +flames and momentarily intercepting the light. + +Then ensued a change. The rose hue vanished suddenly, and in its place +shot up three broad ribbons of silver light; and so bright and clear +was the light that the edge of the cliff against it was cut as sharp +as a black silhouette on white paper, and he could see every bush of +gorse there, and a sheep--a solitary sheep. + +Suddenly he was startled by seeing a man before him, coming over the +sand. + +"Who goes there?" + +"What--Oliver! I have found you!" the answer was in his father's +voice. "Oh, well, I got fidgeted, and I thought I would come and see +if you had arrived." + +"For heaven's sake, you have told no one of our plans?" + +"I--bless you, boy--not I. You know you told me yourself, before going +to the station, what you intended, and I was troubled and anxious, and +I came to see how things were turning out. The Black Prince is coming +in; she will anchor shortly. She can't come beyond the point yonder. I +was sure you would be here. How many have you brought with you?" + +"But six." + +"Too few. However, now I am with you, that makes eight." + +"I wish you had not come, father." + +"My boy, I did not come only on your account. I have my poor little Ju +so near my heart that I long to put out if only a finger to liberate +her from that ruffian, whom by the way I have challenged." + +"Yes--but I have stepped in as your substitute. I shall, I trust, try +conclusions with Coppinger to-night. Come with me to the cave I told +you of. We will send a man to keep guard at the foot of the donkey +path." + +Oliver led the way; the sands reflected the illumination of the sky, +and the foam that swept up the beach had a rosy tinge. The waves +hissed as they rushed up the shore, as though impatient at men +speaking and not listening to the voice of the ocean, that should +subdue all human tongues, and command mute attention. And yet that +roar is inarticulate, it is like the foaming fury of the dumb, that +strives with noise and gesticulation to explain the thoughts that are +working within. + +In the cave it was dark, and Oliver lighted a piece of touchwood as a +means of observing the shelving ground, and taking his direction, till +he passed under the brow of rock and entered the upper cavern. + +After a short scramble, the dim yellow glow of light from this inner +recess was visible, when Oliver extinguished his touchwood and pushed +on, guided by this light. + +On entering the upper cave he was surprised to find the guards lying +about asleep, and snoring. He went at once to Wyvill, seized him by +the arm and shook him, but none of his efforts could rouse him. He lay +as a log, or as one stunned. + +"Father! help me with the others," said Oliver in great concern. + +Mr. Menaida went from one to the other, spoke to each, shook him, held +the lantern to his eyes; he raised their heads; when he let go his +hold, they fell back. + +"What is the meaning of this?" asked Oliver. + +"Humph!" said old Menaida, "I'll tell you what this means. There is a +rogue among them, and their drink has been drugged with deadly +night-shade. You might be sure of this--that among six coast-guards +one would be in the pay of Coppinger. Which is it? Whoever it is, he +is pretending to be as dead drunk and stupefied as the others, and +which is the man, Noll?" + +"I cannot tell. This keg of brandy was got at the Rock Inn." + +"It was got there and there drugged, but by one of this company. Who +is it?" + +"Yes," said Oliver, waxing wrathful, "and what is more, notice was +sent to Coppinger to be on his guard. I saw the sexton going in the +direction of Pentyre." + +"That man is a rascal." + +"And now we shall not encounter Coppinger. He will be warned and not +come." + +"Trust him to come. He has heard of this. He will come and murder them +all as he did Wyvill." + +Oliver felt as though a frost had fallen on him. + +"Hah!" said old Menaida. "Never trust anyone in this neighborhood; you +cannot tell who is not in the pay or under the control of Coppinger, +from the magistrate on the bench to the huckster who goes round the +country. Among these six men, one is a spy and a traitor. Which it is +we cannot tell. There is nothing else to be done but to bind them all, +hand and foot. There is plenty of cord here." + +"Plenty. But surely not Wyvill." + +"Wyvill and all. How can you say that he is not the man who has done +it? Many a fellow has carried his brother in his pocket. What if he +has been bought?" + +Old Menaida was right. He had not lived so many years in the midst of +smugglers without having learned something of their ways. His advice +must be taken, for the danger was imminent. If, as he supposed, full +information had been sent to Captain Cruel, then he and his men would +be upon them shortly. + +Oliver hastily brought together all the cord of a suitable thickness +he could find, and the old father raised and held each Preventive man, +while Oliver firmly bound him hand and foot. As he did not know which +was shamming sleep, he must bind all. Of the six, five were wholly +unconscious what was being done to them, and the sixth thought it +advisable to pretend to be as the rest, for he was quite aware that +neither Oliver nor his father would scruple to silence him effectually +did he show signs of animation. + +When all were made fast, old Mr. Menaida said: + +"Now, Noll, my boy, are you armed?" + +"No, father. When I went from home I expected to return. I did not +know I should want weapons. But these fellows have their pistols and +cutlasses." + +"Try the pistols. There, take that of the man Wyvill. Are you sure +they are loaded?" + +"I know they are." + +"Well, try." + +Oliver took Wyvill's pistol, and put in the ramrod. + +"Oh yes, it is loaded." + +"Make sure. Draw the loading. You don't know what it is to have to do +with Coppinger." + +Oliver drew the charge, and then, as is usual, when the powder has +been removed, blew down the barrel. Then he observed that there was a +choke somewhere. He took the pistol to the lantern, opened the side of +the lantern and examined it. The touch-hole was plugged with wax. + +"Humph!" said Mr. Menaida. "The man who drugged the liquor waxed the +touch-holes of the pistols. Try the rest." + +Oliver did not now trouble himself to draw the charges; he cocked each +man's pistol and drew the trigger. Not one would discharge. All had +been treated in like manner. + +Oliver thought for a moment what was to be done. He dared not leave +the sleeping men unprotected, and he and his father alone were +insufficient to defend them. + +"Father," said he, "there is but one thing that can be done now: you +must go at once, fly to the nearest farmhouses and collect men, and, +if possible, hold the donkey path before Coppinger and his men arrive. +If you are too late, pursue them. I will choke the narrow entrance, +and will light a fire. Perhaps they may be afraid when they see a +blaze here, and may hold off. Anyhow, I can defend this place for a +while. But I don't expect that they will attack it." + +Mr. Menaida at once saw that his son's judgment was right, and he +hurried out of the cave, Oliver holding the light to assist him to +descend, and then he made his way over the sands to the path, and up +that to the downs. + +No sooner was he gone than Oliver collected what wood and straw were +there, sailcloth, oilcloth, everything that was combustible, and piled +them up into a heap, then applied the candle to them, and produced a +flame. The wood was damp and did not burn freely, but he was able to +awake a good fire that filled the cavern with light. He trusted that +when the smugglers saw that their den was in the possession of the +enemy they would not risk the attempt to enter and recover it. They +might not, they probably did not, know to what condition the holders +of the cave were reduced. + +The light of the fire roused countless bats that had made the roof of +the cave their resting-place, and they flew wildly to and fro with +whirr of wings and shrill screams. + +Oliver set to work with all haste to heap stones so as to choke the +entrance from the lower cave, by which he anticipated that the +smugglers would enter, should they resolve on so desperate a course. +But owing to the rapid inclination, the pebbles yielded, and what he +piled up rolled down. He then, with great effort, got the boat thrust +down to the opening, and by main force drew it partly across. It was +not possible for him completely to block the entrance, but by planting +the boat athwart it, he could prevent several men from entering at +once, and whoever did enter must scramble over the bulwarks of the +boat. + +All this took some time, and he was thus engaged, when his attention +was suddenly arrested by the click of a pistol brought to the cock. He +looked hastily about him, and saw Coppinger, who, unobserved, had +descended by the chimney, and now by the light of the fire was taking +deliberate aim at him. Oliver drew back behind a rock. + +"You coward!" shouted Captain Cruel. "Come out and be shot." + +"I am no coward," answered Oliver. "Let us meet with equal arms. I +have a cutlass." He had taken one from the side of a sleep-drunk +coast-guard. + +"I prefer to shoot you down as a dog," said Coppinger. + +Then holding his pistol levelled in the direction of Oliver, he +approached the sleeping men. Oliver saw at once his object: he would +liberate the confederate. He stepped out from behind the rock, and +immediately the pistol was discharged. A bat fell at the feet of +Oliver. Had not that bat at the moment whizzed past his head and +received the ball in its soft and yielding body, the young man would +have fallen shot through his head. + +Coppinger uttered a curse, and put his hand to his belt and drew forth +his second pistol. But Oliver sprang forward, and with a sweep of his +cutlass caught him on the wrist with the blade as he was about to +touch the trigger. The pistol fell from his hand, and a rush of blood +overflowed the back of the hand. + +Coppinger remained for one minute motionless. So did Oliver, who did +not again raise his cutlass. + +But at that moment a harsh voice was heard crying, "There he is, my +men, at him; beat his brains out. A guinea for the first man who +knocks him over," and from the further side of the boat, illumined by +the glare from the fire, were seen the faces of Mr. Scantlebray, his +brother, and several men, who began to scramble over the obstruction. + +Then, and then only in his life, did Coppinger's heart fail him. His +right hand was powerless; the sharp blade had severed the tendons, and +blood was flowing from his wrist in streams. One pistol was +discharged, the other had fallen. In a minute he would be in the hands +of his deadly enemies. + +He turned and fled. The light from the fire, the illumined smoke, rose +through the chimney, and by that he could run up the familiar track, +reach the platform in the face of the cliff, thence make his way by +the path up which he had formerly borne Judith. He did not hesitate, +he fled, and Oliver, also without hesitation, pursued him. As he went +up the narrow track, his feet trod in and were stained with the blood +that had fallen from Coppinger's wounded arm, but he did not notice +it--he was unaware of it till the morrow. + +Coppinger reached the summit of the cliffs. His feet were on the down. +He ran at once in the direction of Othello Cottage. His only chance of +safety lay there. There he could hide in the attic, and Judith would +never betray him. In his desperate condition, wounded, his blood +flowing from him in streams, hunted by his foes, that one thought was +in him--Judith--he must go to Judith. She would never betray him, she +would be hacked to death rather than give him up. To Judith as his +last refuge! + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + +IN THE SMOKE. + + +Judith left Pentyre Glaze when she had somewhat recovered herself +after the interview with Coppinger and her surrender. She had fought a +brave battle, but had been defeated and must lay down her arms. +Resistance was no longer possible if Jamie was to be saved from a +miserable fate. Now by the sacrifice of herself she had assured to, +him a future of calm and innocent happiness. She knew that with Uncle +Zachie and Oliver he would be cared for, kindly treated, and employed. +Uncle Zachie himself was not to be trusted; whatever he might promise, +his good nature was greater than his judgment. But she had confidence +in Oliver, who would prove a check on the over-indulgence which his +father would allow. But Jamie would forget her. His light and +unretentive mind was not one to harbor deep feeling. He would forget +her when on board ship in his pleasure at running about the vessel +chattering with the sailors, and would only think of her if he wanted +aught or was ill. Rapidly the recollection of her, love for her, would +die out of his mind and heart; and as it died out of his, her thought +and love for him would deepen and become more fixed, for she would +have no one, nothing in the world to think of and love save her +twin-brother. + +She walked on in the dark winter night, lighted only by the auroral +glow overhead, and was conscious of a smell of tobacco-smoke that so +persistently seemed to follow her that she was forced to notice it. +She became uneasy, thinking that someone was walking behind the hedge +with a pipe, watching her, perhaps waiting to spring out upon her when +distant from the house, where her cries for help might not be heard. + +She stood still. The smell was strong. She climbed the hedge on one +side and looked over; as far as she could discern in the red glimmer +from the flushed sky there was no one there. She listened, she could +hear no step. She walked hastily on to a gate in the hedge on the +opposite side and went through that. The smell of burning tobacco was +as strong there. Judith turned in the lane and walked back in the +direction of the house. The smell pursued her. It was strange. Could +she carry the odor in her clothes? She turned again and resumed her +walk toward Othello Cottage. Now she was distinctly aware that the +scent came to her on the wind. Her perplexity on this subject served +as a diversion of her mind from her own troubles. + +She emerged upon the downs, and made her way across them toward the +cottage that lay in a dip, not to be observed except by one close to +it. The wind when it brushed up from the sea was odorless. + +Presently she came in sight of Othello Cottage, and in spite of the +darkness could see that a strange, dense, white fog surrounded it, +especially the roof, which seemed to be wearing a white wig. In a +moment she understood what this signified. Othello Cottage was on +fire, and the stores of tobacco in the attic were burning. Judith ran. +Her own troubles were forgotten in her alarm for Jamie. No fire as yet +had broken through the roof. + +She reached the door, which was open. Mr. Scantlebray in leaving had +not shut the door, so as to allow the boy to crawl out should he +recover sufficient intelligence to see that he was in danger. + +It is probable that Scantlebray, senior, would have made further +efforts to save Jamie, but that he believed he would meet with his +brother, and two or three men he was bringing with him, near the +house, and then it would be easy unitedly to drag the boy forth. He +did, indeed, meet with Obadiah, but also at the same time with Uncle +Zachie Menaida and a small party of farm-laborers, and when he heard +that Mr. Menaida desired help to secure Coppinger and the smugglers, +he thought no more of the boy and joined heartily in the attempt to +rescue the Preventive men and take Coppinger. + +Through the open door dashed Judith, crying out to Jamie whom she +could not see. There was a dense, white cloud in the room, let down +from above, and curling out at the top of the door, whence it issued +as steam from a boiler. It was impossible to breathe in this fog of +tobacco-smoke, and Judith knew that if she allowed it to surround her +she would be stupefied. She therefore stooped and entered, calling +Jamie. Although the thick mattress of white smoke had not as yet +descended to the floor, and had left comparatively clear air beneath +it--the in-draught from the door--yet the odor of the burning tobacco +impregnated the atmosphere. Here and there curls of smoke descended, +dropped capriciously from the bed of vapor above, and wantonly played +about. + +Judith saw her brother lying at full length near the fire. Scantlebray +had drawn him partly to the door, but he had rolled back to his former +position near the hearth, perhaps from feeling the cold wind that blew +in on him. + +There was no time to be lost. Judith knew that flame must burst forth +directly--directly the burning tobacco had charred through the rafters +and flooring of the attic and allowed the fresh air from below to rush +in and, acting as a bellows, blow the whole mass of glowing tobacco +into flame. It was obvious that the fire had originated above in the +attic. There was nothing burning in the room, and the smoke drove +downward in strips through the joints of the boards overhead. + +"Jamie, come, come with me!" She shook the boy, she knelt by him and +raised him on her knee. He was stupefied with cognac, and with the +fumes of the burning tobacco he had inhaled. + +She must drag him forth. He was no longer half-conscious as he had +been when Mr. Scantlebray made the same attempt; the power to resist +was now gone from him. + +Judith was delicately made, and was not strong, but she put her arms +under the shoulders of Jamie and herself on her knees and dragged him +along the floor. He was as heavy as a corpse. She drew him a little +way and desisted, overcome, panting, giddy, faint. But time must not +be lost. Every moment was precious. Judith knew that overhead in the +loft was something that would not smoulder and glow, but burst into +furious flame--spirits. Not, indeed, many kegs, but there were some. +When this became ignited their escape would be impossible. She drew +Jamie further up; she was behind him. She thrust him forward as she +moved on upon her knees, driving him a step further at every advance. +It was slow and laborious work. She could not maintain this effort +for long and fell forward on her hands, and he fell also at the same +time on the floor. + +Then she heard a sound, a roar, an angry growl. The shock of the fall, +and striking his head against the slate pavement, roused Jamie +momentarily and he also heard the noise. + +"Ju! the roar of the sea!" + +"A sea of fire, Jamie! Oh, do push to the door." + +He raised himself on his hands, looked vacantly round, and fell again +into stupid unconsciousness. Now still on her knees, but with a brain +becoming bewildered with the fumes, she crept to his head, placed +herself between him and the door, and holding his shoulders, dragged +him toward her, she moving backward. + +Even thus she could make but little way with him; his boot-tops caught +in the edge of a slate slab ill fitted in the floor and held him, so +that she could not pull him to her with the additional resistance thus +caused. Then an idea struck her. Staggering to her feet, holding her +breath, she plunged in the direction of the window, beat it open, and +panted in the inrush of pure air. With this new current wafted in +behind her she returned amid the smoke, and for a moment it dissipated +the density of the cloud about her. The window had faced the wind, and +the rush of air through it was more strong than that which entered by +the door. And yet this expedient did not answer as she had expected, +for the column of strong, cold air pouring in from a higher level +threw the cloud into confusion, stirred it up as it were, and lessened +the space of uninvaded atmosphere below the descending bed of vapor. + +Again she went to Jamie. The roar overhead had increased, some vent +had been found, and the attic was in full flagrance. Now, drawing a +long breath at the door, near the level of the ground, she returned to +her brother and disengaged his foot from the slate, then dragged, then +thrust, sometimes at his head, sometimes at his side; then again she +had her arms round him, and swung herself forward to the right knee +sideways; then brought up the other knee, and swung herself with the +dead weight in her arms again to the right, and thus was able to work +her way nearer to the door, and, as she got nearer to the door, the +air was clearer, and she was able to breathe freer. + +At length she laid hold of the jamb with one hand, and with the other +she caught the lappel of the boy's coat, and assisted by the support +she had gained, was able to drag him over the doorstep. + +At that moment passed her rushed a man. She looked, saw and knew +Coppinger. As he rushed passed, the blood squirting from his maimed +right hand fell on the girl lying prostrate at the jamb to which she +had clung. + +And now within a red light appeared, glowing through the mist as a +fiery eye, not only so, but every now and then a fiery rain descended. +The burning tobacco had consumed the boards and was falling through in +red masses. + +Judith had but just brought her brother into safety, or comparative +safety, and now another, Coppinger, had plunged into the burning +cottage, rushed to almost certain death. She cried to him as well as +she could with her short breath. She could not leave him within. Why +had he run there? She saw on her dress the blood that had fallen from +him. She went outside the hut and dragged Jamie forth and laid him on +the grass. Then, without hesitation, inhaling all the pure air she +could, she darted once more into the burning cottage. Her eyes were +stung with the smoke, but she pushed on, and found Coppinger under the +open window, fallen on the floor, his back and head against the wall, +his arms at his side, and the blood streaming over the slate pavement +from his right gashed wrist. Accident or instinct--it could not have +been judgment--had carried him to the only spot in the room where pure +air was to be found, and there it descended like a rushing waterfall, +blowing about the prostrate man's wild long hair. + +"Judith!" said he, looking at her, and he raised his left hand. +"Judith, this is the end." + +"Oh, Captain Coppinger, do come out. The house is burning. Quick, or +it will be too late." + +"It is too late for me," he said. "I am wounded." He held up his +half-severed hand. "I gave this to you and you rejected it." + +"Come--oh, do come--or you and I will be burnt." In the inrushing +sweep of air both were clear of the smoke and could breathe. + +He shook his head. "I am followed. I will not be taken. I am no good +now--without my right hand. I will not go to jail." + +She caught his arm, and tearing the kerchief from her neck, bound it +round and round where the veins were severed. + +"It is in vain," he said. "I have lost most of my blood. Ju!"--he held +her with his left hand--"Ju, if you live, swear to me, swear you will +sign the register." + +She was looking into his face--it was ghastly, partly through loss of +blood, partly because lighted by the glare of the burning tobacco that +dropped from above. Then a sense of vast pity came surging over her +along with the thought of how he had loved her. Into her burning eyes +tears came. + +"Judith!" he said, "I made my confession to you--I told you my sins. +Give me also my release. Say you forgive me." + +She had forgotten her peril, forgotten about the fire that was above +and around, as she looked at his eyes, and, holding the maimed right +arm, felt the hot blood welling through her kerchief and running over +her hand. + +"I pray you, oh, I pray you, come outside. There is still time." + +Again he shook his head. "My time is up. I do not want to live. I have +not your love. I could never win it, and if I went outside I should be +captured and sent to prison. Will you give me my absolution?" + +"What do you mean?" And in her trembling concern for him--in the +intensity of her pity, sorrow, care for him--she drew his wounded hand +to her and pressed it against her heaving bosom. + +"What I mean is, can you forgive me?" + +"Indeed--indeed I do." + +"What--all I have done?" + +"All." + +She saw only a dying man before her, a man who might be saved if he +would, but would not because her love was everything to him, and +_that_ he never, never could gain. Would she make no concession to +him? could she not draw a few steps nearer? As she looked into his +face and held his bleeding arm to her bosom, pity overpowered +her--pity, when she saw how strong had been this wild and wicked +man's love. Now she truly realized its depth, its intensity, and its +tenderness alternating with stormy blasts of passion, as he wavered +between hope and fear, and the despair that was his when he knew he +must lose her. + +Then she stooped, and, the tears streaming over her face, she kissed +him on his brow, and then on his lips, and then drew back, still +holding his maimed hand, with both of hers crossed over it, to her +heaving bosom. Kneeling, she had her eyes on his, and his were on +hers--steady, searching, but with a gentle light in them. And as she +thus looked she became unconscious, and sank, still holding his hand, +on the floor. + +At that instant, through the smoke and raining masses of burning +tobacco, plunged Oliver Menaida. He saw Judith, bent, caught her in +his arms, and rushed back through the door. + +A moment after and he was at the entrance again, to plunge through and +rescue his wounded adversary; but the moment when this could be done +was past. There was an explosion above, followed by a fall as of a +sheet of blue light, a curtain of fire through the mist of white +smoke. No living man could pass that. Oliver went round to the window, +and strove to enter by that way; the man who had taken refuge there +was still in the same position, but he had torn the kerchief of Judith +from the bleeding arm, and he held it to his mouth, looking with fixed +eyes into the falling red and blue fires and the swirling flocks of +white smoke. + +There were iron bars at the window. Oliver tore at these to displace +them. + +"Coppinger!" he shouted, "stand up--help me to break these bars!" + +But Coppinger would not move, or, possibly, the power was gone from +him. The bars were firmly set. They had been placed in the windows by +Coppinger's orders and under his own supervision, to secure Othello +Cottage, his store-place, against invasion by the inquisitive. + +At length Oliver succeeded in wrenching one bar away, and now a gap +was made through which he might reach Coppinger and draw him forth +through the window. He was scrambling in when the Captain staggered to +his feet. + +"Let me alone," said he. "You have won what I have lost. Let me +alone. I am defeated." + +Then he stepped into the mass of smoke and falling liquid blue fire +and dropping masses of red glowing tobacco. A moment more, and the +whole of the attic floor, with all the burning contents of the garret, +fell in. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + +SQUAB PIE. + + +Next morning, at an early hour, Judith, attended by Mr. Zachary +Menaida, appeared at the rectory of St. Enodoc. She was deadly pale, +but there was decision in her face. She asked to see Mr. Desiderius +Mules in his study, and was shown into what had, in her father's days, +been the pantry. + +Mr. Menaida had a puzzled look in his watery eyes. He had been up all +night, and indeed it had been a night in which few in the neighborhood +had slept, excepting Mr. Mules, who knew nothing of what had happened. +The smugglers, alarmed by the fire at Othello Cottage, and by the +party collected by Mr. Menaida to guard the descent to the beach, had +not ventured to force their way to the cave. The Black Prince, finding +that no signal was made from the ledge above the cave, suspected +mischief, heaved anchor and bore away. The stupefied members of the +Preventive service were conveyed to the nearest cottages, and there +left to recover. As for Othello Cottage, it was a blazing and smoking +mass of fire, and till late on the following day could not be +searched. There was no fire-engine anywhere near; nor would a +fire-engine have availed to save either the building or its contents. + +When Mr. Mules appeared, Judith said in a quiet but firm tone, "I have +come to sign the register. Mr. Menaida is here. I do it willingly, and +with no constraint." + +"Thank you. This is most considerate to my feelings. I wish all my +flock would obey my advice as you are now doing," said the rector, and +produced the book, which Judith signed with trembling hand. + +Mr. Desiderius was quite ignorant of the events of the night. He had +no idea that at that time Captain Coppinger was dead. + +It was not till some days later that Judith understood why, at the +last moment, with death before his eyes, Coppinger had urged on her +this ratification of her marriage. It was not till his will was found, +that she understood his meaning. He had left to her, as his wife, +everything that he possessed. No one knew of any relatives that he +had, for no one knew whence he came. No one ever appeared to put in a +claim against the widow. + +On the second day the remains of the burnt cottage were cleared away, +and then the body of Cruel Coppinger was found, fearfully charred, and +disfigured past recognition. There were but two persons who knew that +this blackened corpse belonged to the long dreaded captain, and these +were Judith and Oliver. When the burnt body was cleared from the +charred fragments of clothing that were about it one article was +discovered uninjured. About his throat Coppinger had worn a silk +handkerchief, and this as well as the collar of his coat had preserved +his neck and the upper portion of his chest from injury such as had +befallen the rest of his person. And when the burnt kerchief was +removed, and the singed cloth of the coat-collar, there was discovered +round the throat a narrow black band, and sewn into this band, one +golden thread of hair, encircling the neck. + + * * * * * + +Are our readers acquainted with that local delicacy entitled, in +Cornwall and Devon, Squab Pie? To enlighten the ignorant, it shall be +described. First, however, we premise that of squab pies there are two +sorts: Devonian squab and Cornish squab. The Cornish squab differs +from the Devonian squab in one particular; that shall be specified +presently. + +_How to Make a Squab Pie._--Take half a pound of veal, cut into nice +square pieces, and put a layer of them at the bottom of a pie-dish. +Sprinkle over these a portion of herbs, spices, seasoning, lemon-peel, +and the yolks of eggs cut in slices; cut a quarter of a pound of +boiled ham very thin, and put in a layer of this. Take half a pound of +mutton cut into nice pieces, and put a layer of them on the top of the +veal. Sprinkle as before with herbs and spices. Take half a pound of +beef, cut into nice pieces, and put a layer of them on top of the +mutton. Sprinkle as before with herbs and spices. Cut up half a dozen +apples very fine, also half a dozen onions, mix, and proceed to ram +the onions and apples into every perceivable crevice. Take half a +dozen pilchards, remove the bones, chop up and strew the whole pie +with pilchards. Then fill up with clotted cream, till the pie-dish +will hold no more. (For Cornish squab add, treated in like manner, a +cormorant.) Proceed to lay a puff paste on the edge of the dish. Then +insert a tablespoon and stir the contents, till your arm aches. Cover +with crust or ornament it with leaves, brush it over with the yolk of +an egg, and bake in a well-heated oven for one or one and a half hour, +or longer, should the pie be very large (two in the case of a Cornish +squab, and the cormorant very tough). + +In one word, a squab pie is a scrap pie. So is the final chapter of a +three-volume novel. It is made up, from the first word to the last, of +scraps of all kinds, toothsome and the reverse. + +Now let the reader observe--he has been already supplied with scraps. +He has learned the result of Mr. Menaida's collecting men to assist +him against the smugglers. Also of his expedition along with Judith to +the rectory of St. Enodoc. Also he has heard the provisions of Captain +Coppinger's will; also that this will was not contested. He has also +heard of the recovery of the Captain's body from the burnt cottage. + +Is not this a collection of scraps cut very small? But there are more, +of a different character, with which this chapter will be made up, +before the pie-crust closes over it with a flourishing "Finis" to +ornament it. + +Mr. Scantlebray had lost his wife, who had been an ailing woman for +some years, and being a widower, cast about his eyes for a second +wife, after the way of widowers. There was not the excuse of a young +family needing a prudent housewife to manage the children, for Mr. +Scantlebray had only one daughter, who had been allotted by her father +and by popular opinion to Captain Coppinger, but had failed to secure +him. Mr. Scantlebray, though an active man, had not amassed much +money, and if he could add to his comforts, provide himself with good +eating and good drinking, by marrying a woman with money, he was not +averse to so doing. Now, Mr. Scantlebray had lent a ready ear to the +voice of rumor which made Miss Dionysia Trevisa the heiress who had +come in for all the leavings of that rich old spinster, Miss Ceely, of +St. Austell, and Mr. Scantlebray gave credit to this rumor, and acting +on it, proposed to and was accepted by Miss Dionysia. + +Now when, after marriage, Mr. Scantlebray found out that the sweet +creature he had taken to his side was worth under a quarter of the sum +he had set down at the lowest figure, at which he could endure her, +and when the late Miss Trevisa, now the second Mrs. Scantlebray, +learned from her husband's lips that he had married her only for her +money, and not for her good looks or for any good quality she was +supposed to be endowed with, the reader, knowing something of the +characters of these two persons, may conjecture, if he please, what +sort of scenes ensued daily between them, and it may be safely +asserted that the bitterest enemies of either could not have desired +for each a more unenviable lot than was theirs. + +Very shortly after the death of Captain Coppinger, Judith and Jamie +left Bristol in a vessel, with Uncle Zachie, bound for Lisbon. Oliver +Menaida had gone to Oporto before, to make arrangements for his +father. It was settled that Judith and her brother should live with +the old man, and that the girl should keep house for him. Oliver would +occupy his old quarters, that belonged to the firm in which he was a +partner. + +It is a strange thing--but after the loss of Coppinger Judith's mind +reverted much to him, she thought long and tenderly of his +considerations for her, his patience with her, his forbearance, his +gentleness toward her, and of his intense and enduring love. His +violence she forgot, and she put down the crimes he had committed to +evil association, or to an irregulated, undisciplined conscience, +excusable in a measure in one who had not the advantages she had +enjoyed, of growing up under the eye of a blameless, honorable, and +right-minded father. + +In the Consistory Court of Canterbury is a book of the marriages +performed at the Oporto factory, by the English chaplain resident +there. It begins in the year 1788 and ends in 1807. The author has +searched this volume in vain for a marriage between Oliver Menaida +and Judith Coppinger. If such a marriage did take place, it must have +been after 1807, but the book of register of marriages later than this +date is not to be found in the Consistory Court. + +Were they married? + +On inquiry at St. Enodoc no information has been obtained, for neither +Judith nor the Menaidas had any relatives there with whom they +communicated. If Mrs. Scantlebray ever heard, she said nothing, or, at +all events, nothing she said concerning them has been remembered. + +Were they ever married? + +That question the reader must decide as he likes. + + +FINIS. + + + + +Transcriber's Note + +A Table of Contents has been added by the transcriber for the +convenience of the reader. + +Saint is abbreviated to both S. and St. in this book. + +The author refers to plants by the names of escallonica and +eschalonia. It's likely that both are errors for escallonia, but they +are preserved as printed. + +Instances of archaic spelling (e.g. taught meaning taut) are preserved +as printed. Variant spelling (e.g. jewelry and jewellery) is preserved +as printed except where there was a clear prevalence of one form over +another, as follows: + + Page 21--Wyvell amended to Wyvill--"... on one occasion a + preventive man named Ewan Wyvill, ..." + + Page 21--Wyvell amended to Wyvill--"Wyvill had disappeared, + and the body was recovered ..." + + Page 79--jassamine amended to jessamine--"... a-smelling to + the jessamine is the surveyor ..." + + Page 191--stupified amended to stupefied--"... so stupefied + was he by his terrors, ..." + +Hyphenation usage has been made consistent. + +Minor punctuation errors have been repaired. + +The following printer errors have been fixed: + + Page 31--contion amended to condition--"The chancel of the + church was in that condition ..." + + Page 32--omitted 'a' added for sense--"... was to be + anticipated from a broken-hearted widow and helpless + children ..." + + Page 34--repeated 'the' deleted--"... who occupied a + double cottage at the little hamlet of Polzeath." + + Page 35--she amended to he--"... with a jerk of the rein and + a set of the brow he showed ..." + + Page 56--Bluet amended to Blue--"... Boy Blue blew his horn, + ..." + + Page 63--companian amended to companion--"... the friend and + companion of Judith." + + Page 70--it amended to in--"... the voice summoned her to + come in, ..." + + Page 104--repeated 'had' deleted--"... had seen him with his + carriers defile out of the lane ..." + + Page 120--keenist amended to keenest--"A cry of intensest, + keenest anguish ..." + + Page 126--repeated 'the' deleted--"That star on the black + sea--what did it mean?" + + Page 162--aught amended to ought--"... but that he was told + it was there, he ought to see it, ..." + + Page 163--hime amended to home--"... "may I get out now and + go home?"" + + Page 168--springs amended to sprigs--"... covered with sprigs + of nondescript pink and blue flowers." + + Page 238--repeated 'and' deleted--"... and never once as I'm + a Christian ..." + + Page 241--coldnesss amended to coldness--"... formed the + resolution to break down the coldness ..." + + Page 247--or amended to of--"... to take this accumulation + of wreckage ..." + + Page 248--officient amended to officiant--"... immediately + over the head of the officiant, ..." + + Page 259--remorselesss amended to remorseless--"... + remorseless and regardless of others, ..." + + Page 278--Judiah amended to Judith--""Nothing," answered + Judith, ..." + + Page 285--Travisa amended to Trevisa--"... by a little + sentiment for Miss Judith Trevisa, ..." + + Page 337--chose amended to choose--"... and if I choose to + live in it I can." + + Page 351--superfluous 'where' deleted before 'there'--"Judith + walked where, near the edge of the cliffs, there was no snow, + ..." + + Page 362--breakfeast amended to breakfast--"... in utter + guilelessness, prepared my breakfast for me, ..." + + Page 397--kness amended to knees--"... and herself on her + knees and dragged him ..." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's In the Roar of the Sea, by Sabine Baring-Gould + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40631 *** |