The Lost Treasure of TrevlynA Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot

by Evelyn Everett-Green. 

Chapter 1: The Inmates Of The Old Gate House. Chapter 2: The Inmates Of Trevlyn Chase. Chapter 3: The Lost Treasure. Chapter 4: A Night On Hammerton Heath. Chapter 5: The House On The Bridge. Chapter 6: Martin Holt's Supper Party. Chapter 7: The Life Of A Great City. Chapter 8: Cuthbert And Cherry Go Visiting. Chapter 9: The Wise Woman. Chapter 10: The Hunted Priest. Chapter 11: The Lone House On The River. Chapter 12: May Day In The Forest. Chapter 13: The Gipsy's Tryst. Chapter 14: Long Robin. Chapter 15: Petronella. Chapter 16: The Pixies' Dell. Chapter 17: Brother And Sister. Chapter 18: "Saucy Kate. "Chapter 19: The Cross Way House. Chapter 20: How It Fared With Cherry. Chapter 21: The Gipsy's Warning. Chapter 22: Whispers Abroad. Chapter 23: Peril For Trevlyn. Chapter 24: Kate's Courage. Chapter 25: "On The Dark Flowing River. "Chapter 26: Jacob's Devotion. Chapter 27: Yuletide At The Cross Way House. 

Chapter 1: The Inmates Of The Old Gate House. 

"Dost defy me to my face, sirrah?"

"I have no desire to defy you, father, but--"

"But me no 'buts, ' and father me no 'fathers, '" stormed the angryold man, probably quite unconscious of the Shakespearian smack ofhis phrase; "I am no father to heretic spawn--a plague and a cursebe on all such! Go to, thou wicked and deceitful boy; thou wilt oneday bitterly rue thy evil practices. Thinkest thou that I willharbour beneath my roof one who sets me at open defiance; one whois a traitor to his house and to his faith?"

A dark flush had risen in the face of the tall, slight youth, withthe thoughtful brow and resolute mouth, as his father's first wordsfell upon his ears, and throwing back his head with a haughtygesture, he said: "I am not deceitful. You have no call to taunt mewith that vice which I despise above all others. I have never useddeceit towards you. How could you have known I had this dayattended the service of the Established Church had I not told youso myself?"

The veins on the old man's forehead stood out with anger; hebrought his fist heavily down on the table, with a bang that causedevery vessel thereon to ring. A dark-eyed girl, who was listeningin mute terror to the stormy scene, shrank yet more into herself atthis, and cast an imploring look upon the tall stripling whose faceher own so much resembled; but his fiery eyes were on his father'sface, and he neither saw nor heeded the look. 

"And have I not forbid--ay, and that under the heaviestpenalties--any child of mine from so much as putting the headinside one of those vile heretic buildings? Would God they wereevery one of them destroyed! Heaven send some speedy judgment uponthose who build and those who dare to worship therein! What wonderthat a son turns in defiance upon his father, when he stuffs hisears with the pestilent heresies with which the wicked are makingvile this earth!"

Nicholas Trevlyn's anger became so great at this point as well nighto choke him. He paused, not from lack of words, but from inabilityto utter them; and his son, boldly taking advantage of the pause, struck in once more in his own defence. 

"Father, you talk of pestilent heresies, but what know you of thedoctrines taught within walls you never enter? Is it a pestilentheresy that Christ died to save the world; that He rose again forour justification; that He sent the Holy Spirit into the world tosanctify and gather together a Church called after His name? Thatis the doctrine I heard preached today, and methinks it were hardto fall foul of it. If you had heard it yourself from one of ourpriests, sure you would have found it nothing amiss. "

"Silence, boy!" thundered the old man, his fury suddenly changingto a white heat of passion, which was more terrible than thebluster that had gone before. "Silence, lest I strike thee to theground where thou standest, and plunge this dagger in thine heartsooner than hear thee blaspheme the Holy Church in which thou wastreared! How darest thou talk thus to me? as though yon accursedheretic of a Protestant was a member of the Church of Christ. Thouknowest that there is but one fold under one shepherd, and he thePope of Rome. A plague upon those accursed ones who have pervertedthe true faith and led a whole nation astray! But they shall notlead my son after them; Nicholas Trevlyn will look well to that!"

Father and son stood with the table between them, gazing fixedly atone another like combatants who, having tested somewhat thestrength each of the other, feel a certain doubt as to thetermination of the contest, but are both ready and almost eager forthe final struggle which shall leave the victory unequivocally onone side or the other. 

"I had thought that the Shepherd was Christ, " said Cuthbert, in alow, firm tone, "and that the fold was wide enough to embrace allthose baptized into His name. "

"Then thou only thinkest what is one more of those damnableheresies which are ruining this land and corrupting the wholeworld, " cried Nicholas between his shut teeth. "Thou hast learnednone such vile doctrine from me. "

"I have learned no doctrine from you save that the Pope is lord ofall----of things temporal and things spiritual--and that all whodeny this are in peril of hell fire, " answered the young man, withno small bitterness and scorn. "And here, in this realm, those whohold this to be so are in danger of prison and death. Truly this isa happy state of things for one such as I. At home a father whorails upon me night and day for a heretic--albeit I vow I hold notone single doctrine which I cannot stand to and prove from the Wordof God. "

"Which thou hast no call to have in thine hands!" shouted hisfather; "a book which, if given to the people, stirs up everywherethe vilest heresies and most loathsome errors. The Bible is God'sgift to the Church. It is not of private interpretation. It is forthe priests to give of its treasures to the people as they are ableto bear them. "

"Ay, verily, and what are the people to do when the priests denythem their rightful food?" cried Cuthbert, as hotly as his father. "Listen to me, sir. Yes, this once I wilt speak! In years gone by, when, however quietly, secretly, and privately, we were visited bya priest and heard the mass, and received at his hands the BlessedSacrament, did I revolt against your wish in matters spiritual? WasI not ever willing to please you? Did I not love the Church? Wasnot I approved of the Father, and taught many things by him, including those arts of reading and penmanship which many in mycondition of life never attain unto? Did I ever anger you bydisobedience or revolt?"

"What of that, since you are doing so now?" questioned Nicholas ina quieter tone, yet one full of suspicion and resentment. "What useto talk of what is past and gone? Thou knowest well of late yearshow thou hast been hankering after every vile and villainous heresythat has come in thy way. It is thy mother's blood within theebelike. I did grievous wrong ever to wed with one reared aProtestant, however she might abjure the errors in which she wasbrought up. False son of a false mother--"

"Hold, sir! You shall not miscall my mother! No son will stand byand hear that!"

"I will say what I will in mine own house, thou evil, malapertboy!" roared the old man. "I tell thee that thy mother was a falsewoman, that she deceived me bitterly. After solemnly abjuring theerrors in which she had been reared, and being received into thetrue fold, she, as years went by, lapsed more and more into herfoul heretical ways of thought and speech; and though she went toher last reckoning (unshriven and unassoiled, for she would have nopriest at her dying bed) before ye twain were old enough to havebeen corrupted by her precept and example, ye must have sucked inheresy with your mother's milk, else how could son of mine act inthe vile fashion that thou art acting?"

"I am acting in no vile fashion. I am no heretic. I am a true sonof the true Church. "

Cuthbert spoke with a forced calmness which gave his words weight, and for a moment even the angry man paused to listen to them, eyingthe youth keenly all the while, as though measuring his ownstrength against him. Physically he was far more than a match forthe slightly-built stripling of one-and-twenty, being a man ofgreat height and muscular power--power that had in no wisediminished with advancing years, though time had turned his blacklocks to iron gray, and seamed his face with a multitude ofwrinkles. Pride, passion, gloomy defiance, and bitter hatred of hiskind seemed written on that face, which in its youth must have beenhandsome enough. Nicholas Trevlyn was a disappointed, embitteredman, who added to all other faults of temperament that of ahopeless bigot of the worst kind. He was the sort of man of whomInquisitors must surely have been made--without pity, withoutremorse, without any kind of natural feeling when once theirreligious convictions were at stake. 

As a young man he had watched heretics burning in Smithfield with afierce joy and delight; and when with the accession of Elizabeththe tide had turned, he had submitted without a murmur to the fineswhich had ruined him and driven him, a poverty-stricken dependent, to the old Gate House. He would have died a martyr with the grimconstancy that he had seen in others, and never lamented what hesuffered for conscience' sake. But he had grown to be a thoroughlysoured and embittered man, and had spent the past twenty or moreyears of his life in a ceaseless savage brooding which had made hisabode anything but a happy place for his two children, theoffspring of a late and rather peculiar marriage with a woman bybirth considerably his inferior. 

The firmness without the bitterness of his father's face wasreflected in that of the son as Cuthbert fearlessly finished hisspeech. 

"I am a true son of the Church. I am no outcast--no heretic. But Iwill not suffer my soul to be starved. It is the law of this landthat whatever creed men hold in their hearts--whether the tenets ofRome or those of the Puritans of Scotland--that they shalloutwardly conform themselves to the forms prescribed by theEstablishment, and shall attend the churches of the land; and youknow as well as I do that there be many priests of our faith whobid their flocks obey this law, and submit themselves to the powersthat be. And yet even with all this I would have restrained myselffrom such attendance, knowing that it is an abhorrence unto you, had there been any other way open to me of hearing the Word of Godor receiving the Blessed Sacrament. But since King James has cometo the throne, the penal laws have been more stringently enforcedagainst our priests than in the latter days of the Queen. What hasbeen the result for us? Verily that the priest who did from time totime minister to us is fled. We are left without help, withoutguidance, without teaching, and this when the clouds of peril andtrouble are like to darken more and more about our path. "

"And what of that, rash boy? Would you think to lessen the peril bytampering with the things of the Evil One; by casting aside thoserules and doctrines in which you both have been reared, andconsorting with the subverters of the true faith?"

"But I cannot see that they are subverters of the faith, " answeredthe youth hotly. "That is where the kernel of the matter lies. Ihave heard their preachings. I have talked with my cousins at theChase, who know what their doctrine is. "

But at these words the old man fairly gnashed his teeth in fury; hemade a rush at his son and took him by the collar of his doublet, shaking him in a frenzy of rage. 

"So!" he cried, "so! Now we get at the whole heart of the matter. You have been learning heresy from those false Trevlyns at theChase--those renegade, treacherous, time-serving Trevlyns, who area disgrace to their name and their station! Wretched boy! have Inot warned you times and again to have no dealings with those evilrelatives? Kinsmen they may be, but kinsmen who have disgraced thename they bear. I would I had Richard Trevlyn here beneath my handnow, that I might stuff his false doctrine down his false throat tochoke him withal! And to think that he has corrupted my son, as ifthe rearing of his own heretic brood was not enough!"

Cuthbert was unable to speak; his father's hand pressed too tightlyon his throat. He did not struggle or resist. Those were days whensons--ay, and daughters too--were used to receiving severechastisement from the parental hand without murmur: and NicholasTrevlyn had not been one to spare the rod where his son had beenconcerned. His wrath seemed to rise as he felt the slight form ofthe lad sway beneath his strong grasp. Surely that slim striplingcould be reduced to obedience; but the lesson must be a sharp one, for plainly the poison was working, and had already produceddisastrous results. 

"Miserable boy!" cried Nicholas, his eyes blazing in theircavernous hollows, "the time has come when this matter must besettled betwixt us twain. Swear that thou wilt go no more to thechurches of the Protestant faction, be the laws what they may;swear that thou wilt hold no more converse on matters of religionwith thy cousins at the Chase--swear these things with a solemn andbinding oath, and all may yet be well. Refuse, and thou shalt yetlearn, as thou hast not learned before, what the wrath of a wrongedand outraged father can be!"

Petronella, the dark-eyed girl, who had all this while beencrouching back in her high-backed chair in an attitude of shrinkingterror, now sprang suddenly towards her brother, crying: "OCuthbert, Cuthbert! prithee do not anger him more!

"Father, O dear sir, let but him go this once! He does notwillingly anger you; he does but--"

"Peace, foolish girl, and begone! This is no time for woman'swhining. Thy brother and I can settle this business betwixt ustwain. But stay, go thou to my room and fetch thence the strongwhip wherewith I chastise the unruly hounds. Those who disobey likedogs must be beaten like dogs. 

"But, an thou wilt swear to do my bidding in the future, and avoidall pestilent controversy with those false scions of thy house, thychastisement shall be light. Defy me, and thou shalt feel the fullweight of my arm as thou hast never felt it before. "

Petronella had never seen her father so angry in all her lifebefore. True, he had always been a harsh, stern man, an unlovingfather, a captious tyrant in his own house. But there had beenlimits to his anger. It had taken more generally the form of sullenbrooding than of wild wrath, and the irritation and passion whichhad lately been increasing visibly in him was somethingcomparatively new. 

Of late, however, there had been growing friction between Cuthbertand his father. The youth, who had remained longer a boy in hissecluded life than he would have done had his lot been cast in awider sphere, was awakening at last to the stirrings of manhoodwithin him, and was chafing against the fetters, both physical andspiritual, laid upon him by the life he was forced to lead throughthe tyrannical will of his father. He was beginning, in asemi-conscious fashion, to pant for freedom, and to rebel againstthe harsh paternal yoke. 

When a struggle of wills commences, the friction continues a longwhile before the spark is produced; but when some unwonted contesthas ignited this, the flame often bursts out in wonderful fury, andthe whole scene is thence forward changed. 

If the old man's blood was up today, Cuthbert's was no less so. Heshook himself free for a moment from his father's grasp and stoodbefore him, tall, upright, indignant, no fear in his face, but adeep anger and pain; and his words were spoken with great emphasisand deliberation. 

"I will swear nothing of all that. I claim for myself the right ofa man to judge for myself and act for myself. I am a boy no longer;I have reached man's estate. I will be threatened and intimidatedno longer by any man, even though he be my father. I am ready andwilling to leave your house this very day. I am weary of the lifehere. I would fain carve out fortune for myself. It is plain thatwe cannot be agreed; wherefore it plainly behoves us to part. Letme then go, but let me go in peace. It may be when I return tothese doors you may have learned to think more kindly of me. "

But the very calmness of these words only stung Nicholas to greaterfury. He had in full force that inherent belief, so deeply rootedin the minds of many of the sons of Rome, that conviction as wellas submission could be compelled--could be driven into the mindsand consciences of recalcitrant sons and daughters by sheer forceand might. Gnashing his teeth in fury, he sprang once more upon hisson, winding his strong arms about him, and fairly lifting him fromthe ground in his paroxysm of fury. 

"Go! ay, we will see about that. Go, and carry your false storiesand falser thoughts out into the world, and pollute others as youyourself have been polluted! we will think of that anon. Here thouart safe in thy father's care, and it will be well to think furtherere we let so rabid a heretic stray from these walls. Wretched boy!the devil himself must sure have entered into thee. But fiends havebeen exorcised before now. It shall not be the fault of NicholasTrevlyn if this one be not quickly forced to take flight!"

All this while the infuriated man had been partly dragging, partlycarrying his son to a dreary empty room in the rear of thedilapidated old house inhabited by Nicholas and his children. Itwas a vault-like apartment, and the roof was upheld in the centreby a stout pillar such as one sees in the crypts of churches, andsuspended round this pillar were a pair of manacles and a leatherbelt. Cuthbert had many times been tied up to this pillar before, his hands secured above his head in the manacles, and his bodyfirmly fastened to the pillar by the leather thong. Sometimes hehad been left many hours thus secured, till he had been ready todrop with exhaustion. Sometimes he had been cruelly beaten by hisstern sire in punishment for some boyish prank or act ofdisobedience. Even the gentle and timid Petronella had more thanonce been fastened to the pillar for a time of penance, though themanacles and the whip had been spared to her. The place was evennow full of terrors for her--a gruesome spot, always dim and dark, always full of lurking horrors. Her eyes dilated with agony andfear as she beheld her brother fastened up--not before his stoutdoublet had been removed--and her knees almost gave way beneath heras her father turned sharply upon her and said: "Where is the whip, girl?"

It was seldom that the maiden had the courage to resist her, sternfather; but today, love for her brother overcoming every otherfeeling, she suddenly sank on her knees before him, clasping herhands in piteous supplication, as she cried, with tears streamingdown her face: "O father, sweet father, spare him this time! forthe love of heaven visit not his misdoings upon him! Let me buttalk to him; let me but persuade him! Oh, do not treat him soharshly! Indeed he may better be won by love than driven by blows!"

But Nicholas roughly repulsed the girl, so that she almost fell ashe brushed past her. 

"Tush, girl! thou knowest not what thou sayest. Disobedience mustbe flogged out of the heretic spawn. I will have no son of minesell himself to the devil unchecked. A truce to such tears and vainwords! I will none of them. And take heed that thine own turn comesnot next. I will spare neither son nor daughter that I findtampering with the pestilent doctrines of heretics!"

So saying, the angry man strode away himself in search of theweapon of chastisement, and whilst Petronella sobbed aloud in heragony of pity, Cuthbert looked round with a strange smile to say:"Do not weep so bitterly, my sister; it will soon be over, and itis the last beating I will ever receive at his hands. This settlesit--this decides me. I leave this house this very night, and Ireturn no more until I have won my right to be treated no longer asa slave and a dog. "

"Alas, my brother! wilt thou really go?"

"Ay, that will I, and this very night to boot. "

"This night! But I fear me he will lock thee in this chamber here. "

"I trust he may; so may I the better effect my purpose. Listen, sister, for he will return right soon, and I must be brief. I havebeen shut up here before, and dreaming of some such day as this, Ihave worked my way through one of yon stout bars to the window; andit will fall out now with a touch. Night falls early in these darkNovember days. When the great clock in the tower of the Chase tollseight strokes, then steal thou from the house bearing some victualsin a wallet, and my good sword and dagger and belt. Meet me by theruined chantry where we have sat so oft. I will then tell thee allthat is in my heart--for which time lacks me to speak now. 

"Hist! there is his returning step. Leave me now, and weep not. Icare naught for hard blows; I have received too many in my time. But these shall be the last!"

Petronella, trembling in every limb, shrank silently away in theshadows as her father approached, the sight of his grim, stern faceand the cruel-looking weapon in his hands bringing quick thrills ofpain and pity to her gentle heart. Petronella was a very tenderfloweret to have been reared amidst so much hardness and sorrow. Itwas wonderful that she had lived through the helpless years ofinfancy (her mother had died ere she had completed her second year)with such a father over her, or that having so lived she hadpreserved the sweetness and clinging softness of temperament whichgave to her such a strange charm--at least in the opinion of one. Doubtless she owed much of her well being to the kindly care of anold deaf and dumb woman, the only servant in that lonely old house, who had entered it to nurse the children's mother through her lastillness, and had stayed on almost as a matter of course, receivingno wage for her untiring service, but only the coarse victuals thatall shared alike, and such scanty clothing as was absolutelyindispensable. 

To this old crone Petronella fled with white face and tearful eyes, as the sound of those terrible blows smote upon her ears with thewhistling noise that well betrayed the force with which they weredealt. She quickly made the faithful old creature aware of what wasgoing on, and her sympathy was readily aroused on behalf of thesufferer. The dumb request for food was also understood andcomplied with. No doubt there had been times before when the girlhad crept with bread and meat in her apron to the solitary captive, who was shut up alone without food till he should come to a bettermind. 

Of Cuthbert's intended flight she made no attempted revelation. Shemust act now, and explain later, if she could ever make the oldwoman understand, that her brother had fled, and had not been doneto death by his hard-hearted father. 

Supper was over. It had been at the close of that meal that theexplosion had taken place. She would not be called upon to meet herfather again that day. Fleeing up the broken stone staircase justas his feet were heard returning from the vaulted room, she heardhim bang to the door of the living room before she dared to stealinto the little bare chamber where her brother slept, and where allhis worldly possessions were stored. 

The old Gate House was a strange habitation. Formerly merely thegateway to the Castle, which had once reared its proud head uponthe crest of the hill to the westward, it had but scantaccommodation for a family--one living room below, flanked on oneside by the kitchen, and on the other by the vaulted chamber, oncepossibly a guardroom, but so bitterly cold and damp now that it wasnever used save for such purposes as had been witnessed there thatevening. A winding, broken stone stairway led upwards to a few verynarrow chambers above of irregular shape, and all lighted byloophole windows deeply splayed. The lowest of these was the placewhere Nicholas slept, and there was a slight attempt at furnitureand comfort; but the upper chambers, where Petronella and Cuthbertretired out of the way of their father's sullen and morose temper, were bare of all but actual necessities, and lacked many thingswhich would be numbered amongst essentials in later days. The stonefloors had not even a carpeting of rushes, the pallet beds lay onthe hard stone floor, and only the girl possessed a basin and ewerfor washing. Cuthbert was supposed to perform his ablutions in thewater of the moat without, or at the pump in the yard. 

But Petronella had small notion of the hardness of her life. Shehad known no other, and only of late had she begun to realize thatother girls were more gently reared and tended. Since the familyhad come to live at the Chase--which had only happened within thepast year--her ideas had begun to enlarge; but so far this had nottaught her discontent with her surroundings. 

She knew that her father had fled to the Gate House as a place ofretirement in the hour of his danger and need, and that nobody haddenied his right to remain there, though the whole property was inthe possession of Sir Richard Trevlyn, the nephew of her moroseparent. Nicholas, however, as may have been already gathered, boreno goodwill towards his nephew, and would fain have hindered hischildren from so much as exchanging a word with their kinsfolks. But blood is thicker than water, and the young naturally consorttogether. Nicholas had married so late in life that his childrenwere much about the same age as those of his nephew--indeed theTrevlyns of the Chase were all older than Petronella. Sir Richardhad striven to establish friendly relations with his uncle when hehad first brought his family to the Chase, and had only given upthe attempt after many rebuffs. He encouraged his children to showkindness to their cousins, as they called each other, and sincethat day a ray of sunshine had stolen into Petronella's life, though she was almost afraid to cherish it, lest it should only bewithdrawn again. 

As she hurried to the tryst that evening, this fear was only secondto the bitter thought of parting with Cuthbert. Yet she did notwish him to stay. Her father's wrath and suspicion once fullyaroused, no peace could be hoped for or looked for. Terribly as shewould miss him, anything was better than such scenes as the one oftoday. Cuthbert was no longer a child; he was beginning to thinkand reason and act for himself. It was better he should fly beforeworse had happened; only the girl could not but wonder what her ownlife would be like if, after his departing, her stern father shouldabsolutely forbid her seeing or speaking to her cousins again. 

She knew he would gladly do it; knew that he hated and grudged thefew meetings and greetings that did pass between them from time totime. Any excuse would gladly be caught at as a pretext for anabsolute prohibition of such small overtures, and what would lifebe like, she wondered with a little sob, if she were to loseCuthbert, and never to see Philip?

Her brother was at the trysting place first. She could not see hisface, but could distinguish the slight figure seated upon thecrumbling fragment of the wall. He was very still and quiet, andshe paused as she drew near, wondering if he had not heard herlight footfall upon the fallen leaves. 

"Is that thou, my sister?" asked a familiar voice, though feebleand hollow in its tones. The girl sprang quickly to his side. 

"Yes, Cuthbert, it is I; and I have brought all thou biddest me, and as much beside as I could make shift to carry. Alack, Cuthbertare you sorely hurt? I heard that cruel whip!"

"Think no more of that! I will think no more myself once the smartbe past. Think of the freedom thy brother will enjoy; would thatthou couldst share it, sweet sister! I like not faring thus forthand leaving thee, but for the nonce there be no other way. 

"Petronella, I know thou wouldst ask whither I go and what I do. And that I scarce know myself as yet. But sitting here in the darkthere has come a new purpose, a new thought to my mind. What if Iwere to set myself to the discovery of the lost treasure of TrevlynChase?"

The girl started in the darkness, and laid her hand on herbrother's arm. 

"Ah, Cuthbert, that lost treasure! Would that thou couldst find it!But how canst thou hope to do so when so many besides have failed?"

"That is not the fashion in which men think when they mean totriumph, my sister, " said Cuthbert, and she knew by his voice thathe was smiling. "How this thing may be done I know not. Where thelong-lost treasure be hid I know not, nor that I may ever be theone to light on it. But this I do know, that it is somewhere; thatsome hand buried it; that even now some living soul may know thesecret of the hiding place. Petronella, hast thou ever thought ofit? Hast thou ever wondered if our father may know aught of it?"

"Our father! nay, Cuthbert; but he would be the first to show theplace and claim his share of spoil. "

"I know not that. He hates Sir Richard. Methinks he loved not hisown brother, the good knight's father. He was in the house whattime the treasure vanished. Might he not have had some hand in themystery?"

The girl shook her head again doubtfully. 

"Nay, how can I say? Yet methinks our father, who sorely lamentshis poverty and dependence for a home upon Sir Richard's kindness, would no longer live at the old Gate House had he riches hiddenaway upon which he might lay his hand. Nay, Cuthbert, methinks thouart not on the right track in thinking of him. But I do not rightlyknow the story of that lost treasure. "

"Marry, nor I neither. I have heard our father rave of it. I haveheard a word here, a whisper there, but never a full account of thematter. But that there is some great treasure lost or made awaywith all men who know aught of the Trevlyns know well. And if, asall affirm, this same treasure is but buried in some hiding place, the clue to which none possesses, why should not I find it? Whyshould not I be the man at last to track and to discover it?"

Why not indeed? Petronella, full of ardent youthful imaginings, fired instantly with the thought. Why should not her brother dothis thing? Why not indeed? She looked at him with eyes that shonein the gloom like stars. 

"Yes, Cuthbert, be it thine to do what none else has been able. Beit thine to discover this lost treasure. Would that I could helpthee in that quest! But I can give thee just this one morsel ofcounsel. Start not till thou hast been to the Chase and heard allthe story from our cousins there. They will tell thee what there isto know, and he is twice armed who has this knowledge. "

"I will follow thy good counsel, my sister, and commend thee totheir kindly care. And now, let us say farewell, and be brief; forsuch moments do but wring the heart and take the manliness fromone. Farewell, and farewell, my sweetest sister. Heaven be thyguide and protector; and be sure of one thing, that if I live Iwill see thee soon again, and that if I have success in my searchthou and I will rejoice in it together. "

Chapter 2: The Inmates Of Trevlyn Chase. 

Trevlyn Chase was a fine Tudor structure, standing on the site ofthe more ancient castle that had been destroyed during thetumultuous days of the Wars of the Roses. Instead of the grim pileof gray masonry that had once adorned the crest of the wooded hill, its narrow loopholes and castellated battlements telling of mattersoffensive and defensive, a fair and home-like mansion of red brickoverlooked the peaceful landscape, adorned with innumerable orielwindows, whose latticed casements shone brilliantly in the southsunlight as it fell upon the handsome frontage of the statelyhouse. Great timbers deeply carved adorned the outer walls, and thewhole building was rich in those embellishments which grace thebuildings of that period. A fine terrace ran the whole length ofthe south front, and was bounded at either side by a thick hedge ofyew. Stone steps led down into a terraced garden upon which muchcare had been bestowed, and which in summer was bright with all theflowers then known and cultivated in this country. Even in gloomywinter there was more of order and trimness than was often found insuch places, and the pleasaunces and shrubberies and gardens ofTrevlyn Chase, with the wide fish ponds and terraced paths, formeda pleasant place of resort almost at any season, and were greatlydelighted in by the children of the present owner, who had onlyrecently made acquaintance with their ancient family home. 

The setting sun was shining brightly now upon the windows of thehouse which faced the south, with half a point of west, so that inwinter the sunlight shone to the very time of its setting into thelofty and decorated chambers. The glow from blazing fires withinlikewise shone and twinkled hospitably through the clear glass, andone long window of one of the rooms stood open to the still eveningair, and a little group was gathered together just outside. 

A tall young man of some five-and-twenty summers, with the regularTrevlyn features and a pair of honest gray eyes, was standing outon the terrace with his face towards the red sky, a couple ofsporting dogs frisking joyously about him, as if hoping he was bentupon a stroll in the woods. By his side stood a tall slim maiden, bright faced and laughing eyed, straight as a dart, alert andgraceful in her movements, with an expression of courage andresolution on her fair face that stamped it at once with a strongindividuality of its own. She was dressed simply, though in softand rich textures, as became her station, and she held her hood inher hands, leaving her ruffled curly hair to be the sport of thelight night breeze. She had very delicate features and an ovalface, and from the likeness that existed between them the pair wereplainly brother and sister. 

Just within the open window were two more girls, dressed in thesame fashion as the first, and plainly her sisters, though theywere more blonde in type, and whilst very pretty, lacked thepiquant originality that was the great characteristic of the darkgirl's beauty. They were not quite so tall, and the elder of theblonde pair was not nearly so slim, but had something of womanlydeliberation and dignity about her. She was plainly the eldest ofthe three sisters, as the little maid beside her was the youngest. All three were engrossed in some sort of talk that appeared full ofinterest for them. 

"I wish he would not do it, " said Philip, turning his eyes in aneasterly direction, towards a hollow in the falling ground, wherethe ruins of the ancient wall could still be dimly traced. The oldGate House itself could not be seen from this side of the house, but it was plain that the thoughts of all had turned in thatdirection. "It is brave of him to obey his conscience rather thanhis father; but yon man is such a veritable tiger, that I fear methere will be dark work there betwixt them if the lad provoke himtoo far. Nicholas Trevlyn is not one to be defied with impunity. Iwould that Cuthbert had as much prudence as he has courage. "

"So do not I, " answered Kate quickly, turning her flashing eyesfull upon her brother. "I hate prudence--the prudence of cowardice!I am right glad that Cuthbert thinks first of his conscience andsecond of his father's wrath. What man who ever lived to do good inthe world was deterred from the right by craven fears? I honour himfor his single mindedness. He is a bold youth, and I would fainhelp him an I could see the way. "

"We would all gladly do that, " answered Philip; "the hard thingbeing to find the way. "

"We shall find it anon, I doubt not, " answered Kate. "Things cannotgo on ever as they are now. "

"No; methinks one day we may chance to hear that the old Papist hasdone his son to death in a fit of blind fury. Then perhaps, mysister, thou wilt join with me in wishing that the lad had shownmore regard for his stern sire's word. "

"Nay, Philip, sure thou fearest too much, " spoke Cecilia from herstation beside the window. "Nicholas Trevlyn may be a dark and sourman, but he scarce would lift a hand against his own flesh andblood! I cannot believe it of any father. "

"Fathers of his type have done as bad ere now, " answered Philip, with gravity, "and there is no bigot like the Papist bigot, who issoured and embittered by persecution himself. Cuthbert has told methings ere this which show what an iron soul his father's is. Hebelieves that he would wring the neck of little Petronella soonerthan see her turn out of the path of unreasoning Papistry in whichhe has brought her up, " and Philip's face darkened suddenly as heturned it towards his sisters. 

"But sure the King would protect them if he knew, " said Bessie, theyoungest of the sisters. "Why, the law bids all loyal subjects goto church, and punishes those who stay away. The King would besorely angry, would he not, were he to hear that any man dared useforce to hinder his children from going. "

Kate's delicate lips curved into a smile of derision, and Philipshrugged his broad shoulders. 

"The King, my dear Bessie, is naught but a miserable pedant, wholoves nothing so well as hearing himself talk, and prating by thehour together on matters of law and religion, and on the divineright of kings. He is not the King such as England has been wont toknow--a King to whom his subjects might gain access to plead hisprotection and ask his aid. I trow none but a fool would strive towin a smile from the Scottish James. He is scarce a man, by all wehear, let alone a King. I sometimes think scorn of us as a nationthat we so gladly and peaceably put our necks beneath the sceptreof such an atomy. Sure had the Lady Arabella but been a man, weshould scarce have welcomed so gladly this son of Mary Stuart asour monarch. "

"Have a care, my children, and talk not rank treason in such openfashion, " said a deep voice behind them, and the daughters startedto see the tall form of their father in the room behind them. "WeTrevlyns are none too safe from suspicion that we need endangerourselves wilfully. Whatever else James Stuart may be, he has shownthat he means to be a monarch as absolute as any who have gonebefore him. Wherefore it behoves us to be cautious even in thesanctuary of this peaceful home. 

"What is the matter, Kate, that thou art thus scornful towards hismajesty? In what has he offended thee, my saucy princess?"

As Kate stepped within the room, followed by her brother, it wasplain from the lighting of her father's eyes that she was thefavourite daughter with him. He laid his hand lightly on hershoulder, and she stood up close beside him, her bright faceupraised, a saucy gleam in her eyes, and both her attitude andbearing bespoke an affectionate confidence between father and childless common in those ceremonious days than it has since become. 

"Father, we were talking of Cuthbert. Did you see him at churchtoday? He was there both in the morning and the afternoon. "

"I thought I saw him. I was not sure. I am glad his father has hadthe sense to relent thus far with him. "

"But he has not relented, " answered Kate quickly. "Cuthbert comesin defiance of his commands; and Philip says he misdoubts if hisfather may not do him some grievous bodily harm in his rage andfury. Bessie did ask if the King would not interfere to save him;"and then Kate broke off with her rippling, saucy laugh. "I was justanswering that question when you came. But sure, father, somethingmight be done for him. It is a cruel thing for a boy to be treatedas he is treated, and all for striving to obey the law of theland. "

Sir Richard Trevlyn stood in silent thought awhile. He was afine-looking man, with a thoughtful, benevolent countenance, andeyes that Kate had inherited. He had known something of peril andtrouble himself in his day, and could feel for the troubles ofothers. But he also knew the difficulties of dealing with such aman as his kinsman Nicholas; and without bringing him to the noticeof the authorities as a concealed Papist--an idea repugnant to himwhere one of his own name and blood was concerned--it was difficultto see what could be done for the protection of the haplessCuthbert and his sister. 

Sir Richard Trevlyn did not wish to draw public attention uponhimself. It was his desire to live as quietly and privately aspossible. The Trevlyns had been for many generations a familystanch to the doctrines and traditions of the Church of Rome, andthey had won for themselves that kind of reputation which clingstenaciously to certain families even when it has ceased to be afact. The present Sir Richard's father had broken through thetraditions of his race in marrying a lady of the Reformed faith. Itwas a love match, and all other considerations went to the winds. The lady was no theologian, and though believing all she had beentaught, had no horror of Popery or of her husband's creed. They hadlived happily together in spite of their respective opinions; buteither through the influence of his wife, or through other causesless well understood, Sir Richard the elder in his later lifebecame gradually weaned from the old faith, and embraced that ofhis wife. Some said this was done from motives of policy, sinceElizabeth was on the throne, and the edicts against Papists, thoughonly rigidly enforced by fits and starts, were always in existence, and had been the ruin of many ancient families. However that mayhave been, the only son of this union had been trained up aProtestant, and had brought up his own children as members of theEstablished Church of the land. 

But still the old tradition remained that all Trevlyns must ofnecessity be rank Papists, and Nicholas had certainly done all hecould to encourage this idea, and had ruined himself by hiscontumacious resistance to the laws. Both his brother and hisnephew had suffered through their close relationship to such anunruly subject, and there had been dark days enough for the familyduring the Armada scare, when every Papist became a mark forpopular hatred, and professions of loyalty and good faith wereregarded with distrust. 

Now, however, the family seemed to have lived through its darkestdays. Peace had been made with men in high places. Sir Richard haddone good service to the State on more than one occasion; andlatterly he had felt sufficiently safe to retire from theneighbourhood of the Court, where he had been holding some smalloffice, and settle down with his wife and family in his ancestralhome. His marriage with Lady Frances de Grey, the daughter of theEarl of Andover, had given him excellent connections; for theAndovers were stanch supporters of the Reformed faith, and had beenfor several generations, so that they were high in favour, and ableto further the fortunes of their less lucky kinsman. It had takenmany years to work matters to a safe and happy conclusion, but atthe present moment there seemed to be no clouds in the sky. 

The new King had been as gracious as it was in his nature to be toSir Richard, and did not appear to regard him with any suspicion. The knight breathed freely again after a long period of anxiety, for the tenacious memory and uncertain temper of the late Queen hadkept him in a constant ferment. 

It had been a kindly and courageous thing for Sir Richard to permithis contumacious and inimical kinsman to retain the possession ofthe old Gate House. Nicholas had no manner of right to it, thoughhe was fond of putting forward a pretended claim; and the closeproximity of a rank and bitter Papist of his own name and race wasanything but a pleasant thing. But the sense of family feeling, sostrongly implanted in the English race, had proved stronger thanprudential scruple, and Nicholas had not been ejected, his nepheweven striving at the first to establish some kind of friendlyrelations with the old man, hoping perhaps to draw him out of hismorose ways, and lead him to conformity and obedience to theexisting law. 

Nicholas had refused all overtures; but his lonely son and daughterhad been only too thankful for notice, and the whole family at theChase became keenly interested in them. It was plain from the firstthat their father's bitterness and rigid rule had done anything butendear his own views to his children. Petronella accepted thecreeds and dogmas instilled into her mind with a childlike faith, and dreamed her own devotional dreams over her breviary and herbook of saints--the only two volumes she possessed. She wascontent, in the same fashion that a little child is content, withjust so much as was given her. But Cuthbert's mind was of adifferent stamp, and he had long been panting to break the bondsthat held both body and soul in thrall, and find out for himselfthe meaning of those questions and controversies that wereconvulsing the nation and the world. 

Intercourse with his kinsfolk had given him his first real insightinto the burning questions of the hour, and his attendance fromtime to time at the parish church had caused him fresh access ofwonder at what his father could object to in the doctrines thereset forth. They might not embody everything a popish priest wouldbid him believe, but at least they appeared to the boy to containall the integral truths of Christianity. He began dimly tounderstand that the Papists were not half so much concerned in thematter of cardinal doctrines of the faith as in asserting andupholding the temporal as well as the spiritual power of the Pope;and that this should be made the matter of the chiefest momentfilled the boy's soul with a loathing and disgust which were strongenough to make him half a Protestant at once. 

Sir Richard had seen almost as much, and was greatly interested inthe lad; but it was difficult to know how to help him in days whenparental authority was so absolute and so rigidly exercised. 

"We must do what we can, " said Sir Richard, waking from his reverieand shaking his head. "But we must have patience too; and it willnot be well for the boy to irritate his father too greatly. Tomorrow I will go to the Gate House and see my uncle, and speakfor the boy. He ought to have the liberty of the law, and the lawbids all men attend the services of the Established Church. But itis ill work reasoning with a Papist of his type; and short ofreporting the case to the authorities, meaning more persecution formy unlucky kinsman, I know not what may be done. "

"We must strive so to win upon him by gentle means that he permitshis children free intercourse with ours, " said gentle Lady Francesfrom her seat by the glowing hearth. "It seems to me that that isall we may hope to achieve in the present. Perchance as days andweeks pass by we may find a way to that hard and flinty heart. "

"And whilst we wait it may well be that Cuthbert will be goaded todesperation, or be done to death by his remorseless sire, " answeredimpetuous Kate, who loved not counsels of prudence. "Methinks thatwaiting is an ill game. I would never wait were I a man. I wouldalways aet--ay, even in the teeth of deadly peril. Sure thegreatest deeds have been achieved by men of action, not by men ofcounsel and prudence. "

Sir Richard smiled, as he stroked her hair, and told her she shouldhave lived a hundred or so years back, when it was the fashion todo and dare regardless of consequences. And gradually the talkdrifted away from the inmates of the old Gate House, though Philipwas quite resolved to pay an early visit there on the morrow, andlearn how it had fared with his cousin. 

Supper followed in due course, and was a somewhat lengthy meal. Then the ladies retired to the stately apartment they had been inbefore, and the mother read a homily to her daughters, which waslistened to with dutiful attention. But Kate's bright eyes wereoften bent upon the casement of one window, the curtain of whichshe had drawn back with her own hand before sitting down; and asthe moon rose brighter and brighter in the sky and bathed the worldwithout in its clear white beams, she seemed to grow a littlerestless, and tapped the floor with the point of her dainty shoe. 

Kate Trevlyn was a veritable sprite for her love of the open air, by night as well as day, in winter cold as well as summer heat. "The night bird" was one of her father's playful names for her, andif ever she was able to slip away on a fine night, nothingdelighted her more than to wander about in the park and the woods, listening to the cries of the owls and night jars, watching theerratic flight of the bats, and admiring the grand beauty of thesleeping world as it lay beneath the rays of the peaceful moon. 

As the reading ceased, a step on the terrace without told Kate thatPhilip was out for an evening stroll. Gliding from the room withher swift undulating motion, and quickly donning cloak and clogs, she slipped after him and joined him before he had got many yardsfrom the house. 

"Take me with thee, Philip, " she said. "It is a lovely night for astroll. I should love to visit the chantry; it looks most witchingat this hour of the night. "

They took the path that led thither. The great clock in the towerhad boomed the hour of eight some time since. The moon had shakenitself free from the veil of cloud, and was sailing majestically inthe sky. As they descended the path, Kate suddenly laid her hand onher brother's arm, and whispered:

"Hist! Methinks I hear the sound of steps. Surely there is some oneapproaching us from below!"

Philip paused and listened. Yes, Kate's quick ears had not deceivedher. There was the sound of a footstep advancing towards them alongthe lonely tangled path. Philip instinctively felt for the pistolhe always carried in his belt, for there were often doubtful andsometimes desperate men in hiding in woods and lonely places; butbefore he had time to do more than feel if the weapon were safe, Kate had darted suddenly from his side, and was speeding down thepath. 

"Marry but it is Cuthbert!" she called back to him as he bid herstop, and Philip himself started forward to meet and greet thenewcomer. 

"We have been talking of you and wondering how it fared with you, "he said, as they reached the side of the youth "I am right glad tosee you here tonight. "

Cuthbert did not answer for a moment. He seemed to pant for breath. A ray of moonlight striking down upon his face showed it to bedeadly white. His attitude bespoke the extreme of fatigue andweakness. 

"Why, there is something amiss with you!" cried Philip, taking hiscousin by the arm. "Some evil hap has befallen you. "

"His father has half killed him, I trow!" cried Kate, with suddenenergy. "He could not else have received injury in these few hours. Speak, Cuthbert; tell us! is it not so?"

"I have been something rough handled, " answered the lad in a lowvoice; "but I did not feel it greatly till I began to climb thehill. 

"I thank you, good Philip. I will be glad of your arm. But I ambetter already. "

"You look like a veritable ghost, " said Kate, still brimming overwith pity and indignation. "What did that miserable man do to you?"

"Why, naught that he has not done a score of times before--tied meto the pillar and flogged me like a dog. Only he laid his blows onsomething more fiercely than is his wont, and doubled the number ofthem. Perchance he had some sort of inkling that it was his lastchance, and used it accordingly. "

The bare trees did not screen the beams of the moon, and bothPhilip and Kate could see the expression on Cuthbert's face. Whatthey read there caused Kate to ask suddenly and eagerly:

"What meanest thou by that, Cuthbert? What plan hast thou in thinehead?"

"Why, a mighty simple one--so simple that I marvel I have notcarried it out before. I could not live worse were I to beg mybread from door to door, and I should at least have my liberty; andif whipped for a vagabond, should scarce be so badly used as myfather uses me. Moreover, I have a pair of strong arms and somebook learning; and I trow I need never sink to beggary. I mind notwhat I do. I will dig the fields sooner than be worse treated thana dog. My mind is made up. I have left my father's house never toreturn. I am going forth into the world to see what may befall methere, certain that nothing can be worse than what I have leftbehind. "

"Thou hast run away from thy cruel father? Marry, that is goodhearing!" cried Kate, with sparkling eyes. "I marvel we had none ofus thought of that plan ourselves; it is excellent. "

"It seemed the one thing left--the only thing possible. I could notendure such thralldom longer, " answered Cuthbert, speaking wearily, for he was in truth well nigh worn out with the tumult of his ownfeelings and the savage treatment he had received. "But I know notif I shall accomplish it even now. My father may discover myflight, pursue and bring me back. This very day I asked to leavehis house, and he refused to let me go. If he overtakes me I shallbe shut up in strait confinement; I shall be punished sorely forthis night's work. I must make shift to put as many miles as may bebetwixt myself and the Gate House tonight. "

"Nay, thou shalt do no such thing!" answered Kate, quickly andwarmly. "I have a better plan than that. Thou shalt come home withus. My good father will gladly give thee shelter and protection. Thou shalt remain in hiding with us till the hue and cry (if therebe any) shall be over past, and till thy wounds be healed and thouhast regained thy strength and spirit; and then thou shalt startforth reasonably equipped to seek thy fortune in the world; and ifthou wilt go to merry London, as I would were I a man with mine ownfortune to carve out, methinks I can give thee a letter to onethere that will secure thee all that thou needest in the present, and may lead to advancement and good luck. "

Kate's thoughts always worked like magic. No sooner was an ideaformed in her busy brain than she saw the whole story unwindingitself in glowing colours; and to hear her bright chatter as thethree pursued their way to the house, one would have thought hercousin's fortune already made. A soft red glow had stolen into hercheeks as she had spoken of the missive she could furnish, andPhilip gave her a quick glance, a smile crossing his face. 

Cuthbert was too faint and bewildered to take in all the sense ofKate's words, but he understood that for the moment he was to becared for and concealed, and that was enough. Philip echoed hissister's invitation to his father's house as his first stage on hisjourney, and all that the lad remembered of the next few hours wasthe dancing of lights before his dazzled eyes, the sound offriendly voices in his ears, and the gentle ministrations of kindlyhands, as he was helped to bed and cosseted up, and speedily madeso comfortable that he fell off almost immediately into a calmrefreshing sleep that was like to be the best medicine he couldhave. 

When Sir Richard rejoined his family, it was with a sternexpression on his face. 

"The boy has been grossly maltreated, " he said. "It is no merepaternal chastisement he has received this day, but such a floggingas none but the lowest vagabond would receive at the hands of thelaw. The very bone is in one place laid bare, and there be manytraces of savage handling before this. Were he not mine own uncle, bearing mine own name, I would not let so gross an outrage pass. But at least we can do this much--shelter the lad and send himforth, when he is fit for the saddle, in such sort that he mayreach London in easy fashion, as becomes one of his race. The ladhas brains and many excellent qualities. There is no reason why heshould not make his way in life. "

"If he can be cured of his Papist beliefs, " said Lady Frances; "butno man holding them gets on in these days, and Cuthbert has beenbred up in the very worst of such tenets. "

"So bad that he is half disgusted with them before he can rightlysay why, " answered Sir Richard with a smile. "There is too muchhatred and bitterness in Nicholas Trevlyn's religion to endear itto his children. The boy has had the wit to see that theEstablished Church of the land uses the same creeds and holds thesame cardinal doctrines as he has been bred up in. For the Pope hecares no whit; his British blood causes him to think scorn of anyforeign potentate, temporal or spiritual. He has the making of agood churchman in him. He only wants training and teaching. Methinks it were no bad thing to send him to his mother's kindredfor that. They are as stanch to the one party as old Nicholas tothe other. The lad will learn all he needs there of argument andcontroversy, and will be able to weigh the new notions against theold. 

"Verily, the more I think of it the better I like the plan. He isscarce fit for a battle with the world on his own account. Food andshelter and a home of some sort will be welcome to him whilst hetries the strength of his wings and fits them for a wider flight. "

"His mother's kindred, " repeated Kate quickly, and with a shade ofhauteur in her manner. "Why, father, I have ever thought that ontheir mother's side our cousins had little cause to be proud oftheir parentage. Was not their mother--"

"The daughter of a wool stapler, one Martin Holt, foster brother tomy venerated father, the third Earl of Andover, " said Lady Frances, quietly. "Truly, my daughter, these good folks are not in birth ourequal, and would be the first to say so; nevertheless they areworthy and honest people, and I can remember that Bridget, mymother's maid, who astonished us and deeply offended her relationsby a sudden and ill-judged marriage with Nicholas Trevlyn, was awonderfully well-looking woman. How and why such a marriage wasmade none may rightly know now. I can remember that the dark-browedNicholas, who was but little loved at our house, took some heed tothis girl, greatly younger than himself, though herself of ripeningage when she let herself be persuaded into that loveless wedlock. It was whispered that he had made a convert of her; the Jesuits andseminary priests were hard at work, striving to win back their lostpower by increasing the number of their flock and recruiting fromall classes of the people. Nicholas was then a blind tool in thehands of these men, and I always suspected that this was one of hischief motives for so ill judged a step. At any rate, Bridgetpronounced herself a Romanist, and was married by a priest of thatChurch according to its laws. Her family cast her off, and Nicholaswould let us have no dealings with her. Poor Bridget! I trow shelived to rue the day; and the change of her faith was but a passingthing, for I know she returned to her old beliefs when time hadallowed her to see things more clearly. 

"But to return to the beginning. If Bridget's brother, Martin Holt, yet lives and carries on his father's business, as is most like, onLondon Bridge, his house would be no bad shelter for this poor lad, who will scarce have means or breeding as yet to take his placewith those of higher quality. "

"That is very true, " said Sir Richard. "The lad is a right honestlad, and his gentle blood shows in a thousand little ways; but hisupbringing has not fitted him for mingling with the high ones ofthe world, and it would be well for him to rub off something of hisrustic shyness and awkwardness ere he tries to cut a fine figure. Idoubt not that Martin Holt would receive his sister's son. "

"A wool stapler!" muttered Kate, with a slight pout of her prettylips. "I was going to have sent him to Culverhouse with a letter, to see what he would do for my cousin. "

"Lord Culverhouse could not do much, " answered her father, with asmile. "He is but a stripling himself, and has his own way yet tomake. And remember too, dear Lady Disdain, that in these times ofchange and upheaval it boots not to speak thus scornfully of honestcity folks, be they wool staplers or what you will, who gain theirwealth by trading on the high seas and with foreign lands. Bethinkyou that even the King himself, despite his fine phrases on divineright, has to sue something humbly to his good citizens of Londonand his lowlier subjects for those very supplies that insure hiskingly pomp. So, saucy girl, put not into young Cuthbert's headnotions that ill befit one who has naught to call his own save theclothes upon his back. If he goes to these kinsfolk, as I believeit will be well for him to do, it will behove him to go righthumbly and reverently. Remember this in talking with him. It werean ill thing to do to teach him to despise the home where hismother first saw light, and the kinsfolks who are called by hername. "

Kate's sound sense and good feeling showed her the truth of herfather's words, and she dutifully promised not to transgress; butshe did not altogether relish the thought of the prospect in storefor her cousin, and as she went upstairs with Bessie to thecomfortable bed chamber they shared together, she whispered, with amischievous light dancing in her eyes:

"Ah, it is one thing for the grave and reverend elders to plan, butit is another for the young to obey. Methinks Cuthbert will need nohint from me to despise the home of the honest wool stapler. He hasbeen bred in woods and forests. He has the blood of the Trevlyns inhis veins. I trow the shop on London Bridge will have small charmsfor him. Were it me, I would sooner--tenfold sooner--join myself toone of those bands of freebooters who ravage the roads, and fattenupon sleek and well-fed travellers, than content myself with thepottering life of a trader! Ah, we shall see, we shall see! I willkeep my word to my father. But for all that I scarce think thatwhen Cuthbert starts forth again it will be for London Bridge thathe will be bound!"

Chapter 3: The Lost Treasure. 

"And so it is to London thou wilt go--to the worthy wool stapler onthe Bridge?" and Kate, mindful of her promise to her parents, strove to suppress the little grimace with which she was disposedto accompany her words--"at least so my father saith. "

"Yes: he has been giving me good counsel, and methinks that were agood beginning. I would gladly see London. Men talk of its wonders, and I can but sit and gape. I am aweary of the life of theforest--the dreary life of the Gate House. In London I shall seemen--books--all the things my heart yearns after. And my mother'skindred will scarce deny me a home with them till I can findsomewhat to do; albeit I barely know so much as their name, and myfather has held no manner of communication with them these manyyears. "

"Perchance they will not receive thee, " suggested Kate, with alaughing look in her eyes. "Then, good Cuthbert, thou wilt beforced to trust to thine own mother wit for a livelihood. Thenperchance thou wilt not despise my poor little letter to my goodcousin Lord Culverhouse. "

"Despise aught of yours, sweet Kate! Who has dared to say such athing?" asked Cuthbert hotly. "Any missive delivered to my keepingby your hands shall be doubly precious. I will deliver it withoutfail, be it to mine own advancement or no. "

"Belike I shall claim your good offices yet, Master LetterCarrier, " answered Kate, with a laugh and a blush; "and I trow mycousin will like you none the less for being bearer of my epistle. But I am not to commend you to his good graces, as once I meant. Itis to your relatives you are first to look for help. It is likerubbing the bloom off a ripe peach--all the romance is gone in amoment! I had hoped that a career of adventure and glory lay beforeyou, and behold the goal is a home beneath a wool stapler's roof!"

But there Kate caught herself up and blushed, bethinking what herparents would say could they hear her words. 

But Cuthbert did not read the underlying scorn in merry Kate'stones. He was a very simple-minded youth, and his life and traininghad not been such as to teach him much about the various grades inthe world, or how greatly these grades differed one from the other. He was looking at his cousin's bright face with thoughtful, questioning eyes, so much so that the girl asked him of what he wasthinking. 

"Marry of thee, Mistress Kate, " he answered; for though encouragedto speak on terms of equality with his kinsfolk, he found somedifficulty in remembering to do so, and they certainly appeared tohim in the light of beings from another and a higher sphere thanhis own. "I was longing to ask of thee a question. "

"Ask on, good Master Cuthbert, " was the ready reply; "I will answerto the best of my humble ability. "

"I have heard of this Lord Culverhouse from many beneath this roofsince I have been here. I would fain know who he is. "

"That is easy told. He is the eldest son of mine uncle, my mother'sbrother, the fourth Earl of Andover. His eldest son bears the titleof Viscount Culverhouse, and he is, of course, our cousin. When wewere in London we saw much of these relatives of ours, and weregrieved to part from them when we left. Now, is it understood?"

"Yes, verily. And tell me this one thing more, fair cousin, if itbe not a malapert question. Is it not true that thou art to wedwith this Lord Culverhouse one day?"

Kate's face was dyed by a most becoming blush. Her eyes sparkled ina charming fashion. Her expression, half arch, half grave, wasbewitching to see, but she laid her fingers on her lips as shewhispered:

"Hush, hush! who told thee that, good Cuthbert? Methinks thou hastover-sharp eyes and ears. "

"I prithee pardon me if I have seen and heard too much, " answeredCuthbert; "but I had a fancy--"

He stopped, stammering, blushing, and Kate took pity on hisconfusion. 

"I am not vexed, " she said, smiling; "and in very sooth thou hastdivined what is in part the truth. But we do not dare talk of ityet. There be so many weighty matters against us. "

Cuthbert looked keenly interested. He was very fond of thissprightly cousin of his, who was so amusing, so kindly, and sosisterly in her ways. She had more ease of manner, as well asbrightness of temperament, than her sisters, and her company hadbeen a source of great pleasure to him. The girl saw the look ofsympathetic curiosity upon his face, and she drew her chair alittle nearer to that which he occupied, stirring up the logs uponthe glowing hearth into a brighter blaze. 

"I' faith, Cuthbert, I will gladly tell thee all there is to know, it is not much; and I like thee well, and trust thee to boot. Noris it such a mighty secret that Culverhouse would fain make me hisbride, and that I would give myself to him tomorrow an I might. Iam not ashamed of loving him, " cried the girl, her dark eyesflashing as she threw hack her dainty head with a gesture of prideand womanly dignity, "for he is a right noble gentleman, and worthyof any maiden's love; but whether we shall ever be united inwedlock--ah, that is a vastly different matter!" and she heaved aquick little sigh. 

"But wherefore not?" asked Cuthbert quickly. "Where could he find amore beauteous or worthy wife?"

Kate gave him a little bow of acknowledgment for his compliment, but her face was slightly more grave as she made answer:

"It is not, alack! a question of dislike to me. Were that all, Imight hope to win the favour of stern hearts, and bring the matterto a happy conclusion. But no; mine uncle of Andover likes me well. He openly says as much, and he has been a kind friend to us. Andyet I may not wed his son; and his kindness makes it the harder forCulverhouse to do aught to vex or defy him. "

"But why may you not?" asked Cuthbert quickly. 

"There be more reasons than one, but I will tell you all in brief. My own father mislikes the thought of the match, for that we arecousins of the first degree; and though we Trevlyns of the olderbranch no longer call ourselves the servants and followers of Rome, yet old traditions linger long in the blood, and my father hasalways set his face against a marriage betwixt cousins nearestakin. "

Cuthbert looked thoughtful. That certainly was a difficulty hard tobe got over. He made no comment, but merely asked:

"And my Lord of Andover--is that the objection with him?"

"Not near so much. He would easily overlook that. There are no suchstrict rules with Protestants, and his family have been for manygenerations of the Reformed faith. But there is just as weighty anargument on his side--namely, that my father can give me but ascanty dower, and it is a very needful thing for Culverhouse to wedwith one who will fill his coffers with broad gold pieces. TheTrevlyns, as thou doubtless knowest, have been sorely impoverishedever since the loss of the treasure. My father can give no richdower with his daughters; wherefore they be no match for the noblesof the land. Oh, why was that treasure lost? Why could no man bewise enough to trace and find it, when sure there must have beenmany in the secret? Now that a generation has gone by, what hope isthere left? But for that loss my Lord of Andover would havewelcomed me gladly. The lost treasure of Trevlyn has much to answerfor. "

Kate spoke half laughingly, half impatiently, and tapped therush-strewn floor with the point of her shoe. Into Cuthbert's eyesa sudden light had sprung, and leaning forward in the firelight, helaid his hand upon his cousin's. 

"Kate, " he said, in a low voice, "I have said naught of itbefore--I feared it would sound but an idle boast, an idle dream;but I am pledged to the search after the lost treasure. If it yetlies hid, as men say it does, Cuthbert Trevlyn will find it. "

Kate gazed at him with wide-open eyes; but there was no trace ofmockery in them, rather an eager delight and excitement that was initself encouragement and stimulus. 

"Cuthbert, what meanest thou?"

"Verily no more and no less than I say. Listen, Kate. I too am alike sufferer with others of the race of Trevlyn. I have norwealth, nor hope, nor future, save what I may carve out for myself;and my heritage, as well as yours, lies buried somewhere in thesegreat woods, no man may say where. It came upon me as I sat in painand darkness, the last hour I passed beneath my father's roof, thatthis might be the work given to me to do--to restore to the houseof Trevlyn the treasure whose loss has been so sore a blow. I saidas much to my sister when we bid each other adieu in the moonlitchantry; and she bid me, ere I started on the quest, come hither toyou and ask the story of that loss. We know but little ourselves;our father tells us naught, and it is but a word here and a wordthere we have gathered. But you know--"

"We know well. We have been told the story by our mother from thedays of our childhood. I trow we know all there is to know. Whyhast thou not asked before, Cuthbert?"

The lad blushed a little at the question. 

"Methought it would sound but folly in your ears, " he said. "It waseasier to speak to Petronella in the dark chantry. Kate, wilt thoutell me all thou knowest of this lost treasure? How and whereforewas it lost, and why has no man since been able to find it?"

"Ay, wherefore? that is what we all ask, " answered Kate, with eyesthat flashed and glowed. "When we were children and stayed once afew months here, we spent days together scouring the woods anddigging after it. We were sure we should succeed where others hadfailed; but the forest yet keeps its secret, and the treasure hasnever seen the light. Again and yet again have I said to Philipthat were I a man I would never rest till it was found. But heshakes his wise head and says that our grandfather and father andmany another have wasted time and expended large sums of money onthe work of discovery, and without success. All of our name beginto give credence to the story that the concealed treasure was foundand spirited away by the gipsy folks, who hated our house, and thatit has long since been carried beyond the seas and melted into cointhere. Father and Philip alike believe that the Trevlyns will seeit again no more. "

"Dost thou believe that, too?"

"Nay, not I. I believe it will yet come back to us, albeit notwithout due search and travail and labour. O Cuthbert, thy wordsrejoice me. Would I were a man, to fare forth with thee on thequest! What wilt thou do? How wilt thou begin? And how canst thousearch for the lost treasure an thou goest to thine uncle's housein London?"

"I must fain do that for a while, " answered Cuthbert; "I dare notlinger so close to my father's home at this time. Moreover, thewinter is fast coming upon us, when the ground will be deep insnow, and no man not bred to it could make shift to live in theforest. To London must I go first. I trow the time will not bewasted; for I will earn money in honest fashion, that I may havethe wherewithal to live when I go to seek this lost treasure. 

"And now, my cousin, tell me all the tale. I know not rightly howthe treasure was lost, and I have never heard of the gipsy folks ortheir hatred to our house. It behoves me to know all ere I embarkon the quest. "

"Yea, verily; and I will tell thee all I know. Thou knowest wellthat of old the Trevlyns were stanch sons to the Church of Rome, and that in the days of Bloody Mary, as men call her now (and wellshe merits the name), the Trevlyns helped might and main in huntingdown wretched Protestants and sending them to prison and thestake?"

"I have heard my father speak of these things, " answered Cuthbert, with a light shudder, calling to mind his father's fierce andterrible descriptions of the scenes he had witnessed and taken partin during those short but fearful years of Mary's reign, "but Iknew not it had aught to do with the loss of the treasure. "

"It had this much to do, " answered Kate, "that my grandfather andyour father, who of course were brothers, were so vehemently hatedby the Protestant families, many of whose members had been betrayedto death by their means--your father in particular was relentlessin his efforts to hunt down and spy out miserable victims--thatwhen the Queen was known to be dead, and her successor andProtestant sister had been proclaimed in London, the Trevlyns feltthat they had cause to tremble for their own safety. They hadstirred up relentless enmity by their own relentless conduct, andthe sudden turn in fortune's wheel had given these enemies theupper hand. "

"Ah!" breathed Cuthbert, "I begin to see. "

"The Trevlyns had not served the Bloody Queen and her minionswithout reward, " continued Kate, with flashing eyes; "they hadheaped together no small treasure whilst this traffic in treacheryhad been going on, and in many cases the valuables of the victimsthey had betrayed to death had passed into the keeping of thebetrayer. 

"Oh, it is a detestable thing to think of!" cried the girl, stamping her foot. "No wonder the judgment of God fell upon thatunhallowed treasure, and that it was taken from its possessors! Nowonder it was doomed to lie hidden away till those who had gottenit had passed to their last account, and could never enjoy theill-gotten gain. And they were punished too--ay, they were wellpunished. They were fined terrible sums; they had to give back sumsequal to the spoil they had filched from others. Thy father, asthou knowest, was ruined; and we still feel that pinch of povertythat will be slow to depart altogether from our house. Yet itserves us right--it serves us right! It is meet that the childrenshould suffer for the sins of their parents. I have not complained, and I will not complain;" and Kate threw back her head, whilst hereyes flashed with the stress of her feeling. 

"But the treasure?" questioned Cuthbert, eager to know more; "Ihave not yet heard how it was lost. "

Thus recalled to her subject, Kate took up her narrative again. 

"You doubtless know that Queen Mary died in November of the year ofgrace fifteen hundred and fifty-eight. In that year, some monthsearlier, my father was born, and at the time of the proclamation ofthe new Queen he was a tender infant. My grandfather was in Londonabout the Court, and his wife and child were here in thishouse--the sumptuous mansion he and his father had built--notdreaming of harm or ill. They had not heard of the death of oneQueen or the proclamation of the other till one dark winter's nightwhen, just as the household were about to retire to bed, mygrandfather and your father, Cuthbert, arrived at the house, theirfaces pale with anxiety and apprehension, their clothes stainedwith travel; the state of both riders and horses showing the speedwith which they had travelled, and betraying plainly that somethingurgent had happened. The news was quickly told. Queen Mary wasdead. Bonfires in London streets were blazing in honour ofElizabeth. The Protestants were everywhere in a transport of joyand triumph. The Papists were trembling for their lives and fortheir fortunes. No one knew the policy of the new Queen. All feltthat it was like enough she would inflict bloody chastisement onthose who had been the enemies of herself and of her Protestantsubjects. Even as the Trevlyn brothers had passed through thestreets of the city on their way out, they had been hissed andhooted and even pelted by the crowd, some amongst which knew wellthe part they had played in the recent persecutions. They had beennot a little alarmed by threats and menaces hurled at them even inthe precincts of St. James's, and it had become very plain to themthat they would speedily become the objects of private if not ofpublic vengeance. That being so, my grandfather was eager andanxious to return to the Chase, to place his wife and child in someplace of safety; whilst your father's fear was all for the treasurein gold and plate and valuables stored up in the house, which mightwell fall an easy prey to the rapacious hands of spoilers, shouldsuch (as was but too likely) swoop down upon the house to strive torecover the jewels and gold taken from them when they were helplessto oppose or resent such spoliation. "

"Then it was all laid by at the Chase--all the money and preciousthings taken from others?"

"Yes, and a vast quantity of silver and gold plate which had comeinto the possession of former Trevlyns ever since the rise of thefamily in the early days of the Tudors. The seventh Henry and theeighth alike enriched our forefathers, and I know not what wealthwas stored up in the treasure room of this house now so drearilyvoid. But I mind well the story our grandam told us when we werelittle children, standing at her knee in the ruddy firelight, ofthat night when all this treasure was packed up in great chests andboxes, and carried at dead of night by trusty servants into theheart of the forest, and buried beneath a certain giant oak manytimes pointed out to us, and well-nigh killed in after years by thediggings around it in search of the missing hoard. To secure thistreasure, and bury it out of the reach of rapacious and covetoushands, was the aim and object of that hurried journey taken on theevening of the Queen's decease. None were in the secret save threeold servants, whose faithful loyalty to the family had been testedin a thousand different ways. Those three, together with mygrandfather and your father, packed and transported with their ownhands this great treasure into the wood, and there entombed it. None else knew of that night's work. No other eye saw what wasdone. They worked the whole night through, and by the tardy dawnall was done, and even the soil of the forest so cleverly arrangedthat none could guess at the existence of that deep grave. And whowould guess the secret of that tangled forest? Even were it thoughtthat the gold and silver had been hid, who would have such skill asto guess the spot, and go and filch it thence? And yet it must havebeen carried away full soon. For Nicholas Trevlyn, in his anxiousgreed, visited the spot not many weeks later--visited it bystealth, for he and his brother were alike in hiding, waiting forthe first burst of vengeful fury to be over--and he found it gone!He thought on the first survey that all was well; but on moreclosely examining the ground his heart misgave him, for it appearedto him as if the soil had been moved. With anxious haste he beganto dig, and soon his spade struck the lid of one of the chests. Fora moment he breathed again; but he was impelled to carry his searchfarther. He uncovered the chest and raised the lid--it was empty!In a wild fear and fury he dug again and again, and with the sameresult. Every chest or box was in its place, but every one wasempty! The treasure had been spirited away by some spoiler's hand;the treasure of Trevlyn was lost from that night forward!"

Cuthbert was leaning forward drinking all in with eager curiosity. 

"My father discovered the loss--my father?"

Kate nodded her head, and seemed to divine the thought in his mind, for she answered as if he had spoken it aloud. 

"We have all thought of that. I know it is sometimes in my father'smind as he looks at his kinsman's grim face; but our grand sirenever suspected him for a moment--nay, he vowed he was certain hehad had no part nor lot in the matter. For there was nothing butaccord between the brothers; they shared good and evil hap alike. It was with his son, my father, who abjured the old faith andbecame a Protestant, that your father picked a quarrel. He hatedhis brother's wife, it is true; but he never appeared to hate hisbrother. And he suffered more than any in the years that followed. He lost his all, and has been a ruined man since. If he had asecret hoard, sure he would scarce live the life he does now. "

"I know not. It seems scarce like; and yet I can never answer formy father's moods, they are so wild and strange. But there is yetone thing more I would ask. You spoke awhile ago of gipsies--of ahatred they bore to our house. Tell me of that, I pray. Might ithave somewhat to do with the stealing of the treasure?"

"That is what some have thought, though with what truth none cansay. The story of that is soon told. Many long years agone now, theTrevlyn whose portrait hangs below in the hall--our greatgrandfather--gave sentence upon an old gipsy woman that she shouldbe burnt as a witch. Men said of her that she had overlooked theirchildren and their cattle: that the former had become sick orsilly, and that the latter had incontinently died of diseases nonehad heard of before. There was such a hue and cry about her, and somany witnesses to testify the harm she had done, that all men heldthe case proven, and she was burnt in the sight of all the villageout upon the common yonder by order of our forefather, whose officeit was to see the law enforced. There were then many of these gipsyfolk scattered about the common and forest, and this old witchbelonged to them. They mustered strong upon the heath, and it wassaid that if the villagers had not been too strong for them theywould have rescued the witch as she was led out to die. But theTrevlyns, when a thing has to be done, are wont to carry itthrough; and your grandfather, Cuthbert, was prepared against anysuch attempt, and the thing was done as had been decreed. The oldwoman went bravely to her death, but she turned as she passed SirRichard and cursed him with a terrible curse. Later on some rudeverses were found fastened to the wall of the church, and it wassaid by those who had heard the curse that these verses containedthe same words. The paper was burnt by the haughty knight; but mygrandam remembered some of the lines--she had got a sight of thepaper--and used to tell them to us. I cannot recall them to memorynow, but there was something about loss of gold and coming woe, years of strife and vengeful foe. And when years after the Trevlyntreasure was lost, there were many who vowed that it had been thework of the gipsy tribe, who had never forgotten or forgiven, andwho had been waiting their turn to take vengeance upon thedescendants of their old enemy. "

"It seems not unlike, " said Cuthbert, thoughtfully; "and if that beso, the treasure will most like be dissipated to the four winds bynow. It would be divided amongst the tribe, and never be seenwithin the walls of Trevlyn again. "

"That I know not, " answered Kate, and she drew a little nearer toher cousin. "Cuthbert, dost thou believe in old saws? Dost thoubelieve those predictions which run in old families, and which mensay work themselves out sometimes--in after generations?"

"I scarce know, " answered Cuthbert, "I hear so little and see solittle. I know not why they should not be true. Men of old used tolook into the future, and why not now? But why speakest thou thus, sweet cousin?"

"Marry that will I tell thee, Cuthbert; but my mother chides me forsuch talk, and says it befits not a discreet and godly maiden. YetI had it from mine own grandam, my father's mother, and she was agodly woman, too. "

"And what did she tell thee?"

"My grandam was a Wyvern, " said Kate, "as perchance thou knowest, since the match pleased not thy father. And she was not the firstWyvern who had married a Trevlyn. It was Isabel Wyvern, her aunt, who had wedded with the redoubtable Sir Richard who had burnt theold witch, and I trow had he been married when the old beldam wasbrought before him he would have dealt more mercifully with her;for the Wyverns ever protected and helped the gipsy folk, andthought better of them than the rest of the world. Well, be that asit may, my grandam had many stories about them and their strangeways, their fashion of fortune telling and divining, and thewonderful things they could foretell. Many a time had a Wyvern beensaved from danger and perhaps from death by a timely warning fromone of the gipsy folk; and from a child she went fearlessly amongstthem, though all men else shunned and hated them. "

"But the prediction--the prediction?" demanded Cuthbert eagerly. 

"I am coming to that, " answered Kate. "It is a prediction about thedescendants of the Wyverns. My grandam knew it by heart--she had awondrous memory--but my mother would never let me write down suchthings. She loved them not, and said they had better be forgotten. But though I cannot recall the words, the meaning stays still withme. It was that though death might thin the ranks of the Wyverns, and their name even die out amongst men, yet in the future theyshould bring good hap to those who wed with them, and that somegreat treasure trove should come to the descendants in anothergeneration. Now, Cuthbert, though the name of Wyvern has diedout--for the sons went to the Spanish main, and were killedfighting for the honour of England and the Queen in the days ofElizabeth; and the daughters are married, and have lost their titleto the old name--yet thou and I have their blood in our veins. Yourgrandam and mine were alike of the house of Wyvern. Wherefore itseems to me that if this treasure is to be the treasure trove ofthe old saw, it behoves some of us to find it, and why not thou aswell as another? Philip is like to our mother, who loves not andbelieves not such saws. Our father says that if stolen the treasuremust long since have been scattered and lost. Of all our housemethinks I am the only one who believes it will yet be found, as Iknow my grandam did. And so I say to thee, 'Go forth, and good hapattend thee. ' Thou art as much a Wyvern as I, and we will havefaith that all will be yet restored. "

Cuthbert rose to his feet and shook back his hair. His dark eyesflashed with the fixity of his purpose. 

"I will never despair till the treasure is found. Prithee, goodcousin, show me the spot where it was buried first. "

Cuthbert never stirred outside the house till after dark. He wasstill in hiding from his father, who knew not his whereabouts, andwas still on the watch for the truant, believing him to be lurkingabout in the forest around his home. Philip had once contrived tosee Petronella and soothe her fears, telling her that her brotherwas safe, and would be sent forth to their kinsfolk in London sosoon as he was fit for the long ride. But many evening rambles hadbeen taken by the youth, who panted for the freedom of the forest, to which he was so well used; and Kate delighted in any excuse fora moonlight stroll. 

The place was soon found. Kate had visited it so often that thetangled path which led thither was as familiar to her as if it hadbeen a well-beaten road. It lay right away in the very heart of theforest, and save for the majestic size of the oak beneath which thechests had been buried, had nothing to mark the spot. Now therewere traces of much digging. The ground all around had beendisturbed again and yet again by eager searchers, each hopeful tocome upon some clue missed by all the rest. But nothing, save theremains of a few iron-bound chests, served to show that anythinghad once been secreted there; and the moonlight shone steadily andpeacefully down upon the scene of so many heart-burnings andgrievous disappointments, as though such things did not and couldnot exist in such a still and lovely place. 

"Ah, if she would but tell us all she has seen!" said Kate, lookingup towards the silver Queen of Night. But the moon kept her ownsecret, and presently the pair turned away. 

"Shall we go back by the chantry?" asked Cuthbert, with somehesitation; "I should like to see it once again. "

"Let us, " answered Kate; "we are not like to meet thy father. Hehas given up by now his watch around the house. Moreover, I haveeyes and ears like a wildcat. None can approach unawares upon us. Ican feel a human presence ere I see it. "

Cuthbert did not lack courage, and was quite willing to chance thesmall risk there was of an encounter with his father. He felt thathe could slip away unseen were that stern man to be on the watch. Each day that had passed beneath his uncle's roof had helped him torealize more of the freedom of the subject; and very soon he wouldbe beyond the reach of pursuit, and on his way to London. 

As they approached the chantry Kate laid a hand upon his arm. 

"Hist!" she said softly. "Pause a moment; I hear voices!"

He stopped instantly; and making a sign of caution to him, Kateglided a few steps onward. Then she paused again, and made a signto him to come. 

"It is all well--there is no fear. It is Philip and Petronella. "

"Petronella, my sister! Nay, but this is a happy chance!" criedCuthbert, springing eagerly forward; and the next momentPetronella, with a little cry of mingled joy and fear, had flungherself into her brother's arms. 

"Cuthbert, dear Cuthbert! How I have longed to see thee once again!Hast thou come to say farewell?"

"In truth, methinks it must be farewell, " answered Cuthbert, holding her tenderly to him, whilst he caressed her hair and hersoft cheek with his hand. "I may not linger too long in my kinduncle's house, lest the matter should come to my father's ears, anda worse breach be made that might cause thee to suffer more, sweetsister. And now, since I may be faring forth tomorrow, tell me ofthyself. How go matters at the Gate House? What said our father tomy flight?"

"He is right furious thereat, and raged for two days like a madman, so that I durst not venture near him. "

"He laid no hand on thee?" asked Cuthbert quickly clinching hishand in the darkness. 

"Nay, he did but threaten; but as I told him all I knew, he coulddo no more. I said that thou hadst fled--that thou couldst brooksuch a life no longer, and had told him so many times thyself. Idid not know myself where thou hadst gone when first he spoke, andhe has asked me no question since. Tell me not too much, lest Ihave to tell it to him. "

"Nay, once in London and I fear him not, " answered Cuthbert. "Therethe law would protect me, since my father's only complaint againstme is that I conform to that. I go first to our mother's relatives, sweet sister, They will give me food and shelter and a home, Itrow, during the inclement months of the winter now before us. Later on "--he bent his head and whispered in her ear--"later on, if kind fortune befriend me, I shall return to these parts andcommence that search of which we have spoken before now. My sister, if thou canst glean anything from our father anent the treasure, when his less gloomy moods be upon him, store up in thine heartevery word, for some think even yet that he knows more than others. I am sad at heart to leave thee in such a home! I would fain takethee with me. "

"Nay, that may not be. I should be but a stay and a burden; and Ican help thee better here at home by my prayers. I will pray eachhour of the day that the Holy Virgin will watch over thee and blessthee, and give us a happy meeting in the days to come. "

"And I will charge myself to watch over Petronella, " said Philip, stepping forward out of the shadow. "I will be a protector--abrother--to her whilst thou art away. She shall not feel tooheavily her harsh father's rule. Amongst us we will find a way toease her of a part of that burden. "

The glance turned upon Philip by those big shadowy eyes told a taleof trustful confidence that set the young man's heart beating inglad response. He took in his the little hand trustingly held out, and drew Petronella towards him. 

"You will trust her to me, good Cuthbert?"

"Gladly, thankfully, confidently!" answered the lad, with greatearnestness; and he thought within himself that if he had the wholeof the Trevlyn treasure to lay at the feet of these kinsmen, itcould hardly be enough to express his gratitude to them for theirtimely and generous help in his hour of sore need. 

"I will win it back--I will, I will!" he said in his heart, as hewalked up the hill with Kate tripping lightly beside him, Philiphaving lingered to watch Petronella safely within the shelter ofthe gloomy walls of the Gate House. "She shall have her dower, thatshe may wed this gay Lord Culverhouse. My sweet sister shall bedowered, too, and in no danger of spending all her youth andsweetness shut up between those gloomy walls. Fortune will smileonce more upon all those who have the blood of the Trevlyns andWyverns in their veins. I believe in the old prediction. I believethat the treasure trove will come, and that it will prove to be thelost treasure of the house of Trevlyn!"

Chapter 4: A Night On Hammerton Heath. 

"Farewell, Cuthbert, farewell, farewell! Heaven speed you on yourway! We shall look for tidings of you some day. And when the longsummer days come upon the green world, perchance you may even makeshift to ride or walk the twenty miles that separates us fromLondon to tell of your own well being and ask of ours. "

These and many like words were showered on Cuthbert as he sat hissteed at the door of Trevlyn Chase, as the dusk was beginning togather, and his uncle and cousins stood clustered together on thesteps to see him ride forth to seek his fortune, as Kate insistedon calling it, though her father spoke of it rather as a visit tohis mother's kinsfolks. 

Cuthbert had been very loath to go. He had found himself happierbeneath his uncle's roof than ever he had been before (Sir Richardwas in point of fact his cousin, but the lad had given him thetitle of uncle out of respect, and now never thought of him asanything else), but he knew that to linger long would be neithersafe nor possible. 

Only his strange and savage life had prevented the news of hisson's present quarters from coming to the knowledge of the angryNicholas, and all were feeling it better for the young man to takehis departure. Now the moment of parting had really come, andalready the hope of a flying visit to the Chase in the summer nextto follow was the brightest thought to lighten the regrets of thepresent. 

"Ay, that will I gladly do!" cried the lad, with kindling eyes. "Why, twenty miles is naught of a journey when one can rise withthe midsummer sun. I trow I shall pine after the forest tracksagain. I shall have had enough and to spare of houses and cities bythe time the summer solstice is upon us. "

"We shall look for you, we shall wait for you!" cried Kate, wavingher hand; and as it was fast growing dark, Sir Richard made a signof dismissal and farewell, and Cuthbert moved slowly along the darkavenue, Philip walking beside his bridle rein for a few last words. 

Cuthbert would have liked his sister to have seen him go forth, butthat was not thought advisable. He wore an old riding suit ofPhilip's, which had fitted the latter before his shoulders hadgrown so broad and his figure assumed its present manlyproportions. It suited Cuthbert well, and in spite of its havingseen some service from its former owner, was a far better andhandsomer dress than anything he had ever worn before, His ownmeagre wardrobe and few possessions were packed in the saddlebagacross the saddle. His uncle had made no attempt to send him outequipped as a relative of the house of Trevlyn, and Cuthbert wasglad that there should be no false seeming as to his condition whenhe appeared at Martin Holt's door. Sir Richard had given him atparting a small purse containing a couple of gold pieces and a fewsilver crowns, and had told him that he might in London sell thenag he bestrode and keep the price himself. He was not an animal ofany value, and had already seen his best days, but he would carryCuthbert soberly and safely to London town; and as the lad wasstill somewhat weak from his father's savage treatment, he was notsorry to be spared the long tramp over the deep mud of winterroads. 

"I would not have you travel far tonight, " said Philip, as he pacedbeside the sure-footed beast, who leisurely picked his way alongthe familiar road. "The moon will be up, to be sure, ere long; butit is ill travelling in the night. It is well to get clear of thisneighbourhood in the dark, for fear your father might chance toespy you and make your going difficult. Yet I would have you askshelter for your steed and yourself tonight at the little hostelryyou will find just this side Hammerton Heath. The heath is an illplace for travellers, as you doubtless know. If you should lose theroad, as is like enough, it being as evil and rough a track as wellmay be, you will like enough plunge into some bog or morass fromwhich you may think yourself lucky to escape with life. And if youdo contrive to keep to the track, the light-heeled gentlemen of theroad may swoop down upon you like birds of prey, and rob you of thelittle worldly wealth that you possess. Wherefore I counsel you topause ere you reach that ill-omened waste, and pass the night atthe hostel there. The beds may be something poor, but they will bebetter than the wet bog, and you will be less like to be robbedthere than on the road. "

"I will take your good counsel, cousin, " said Cuthbert. "I have notmuch to lose, but that little is my all. I will stop at the placeyou bid me, and only journey forth across the heath when themorrow's sun be up. "

"You will do well. And now farewell, for I must return. I will doall that in me lies to watch over and guard Petronella. She shallbe to me as a sister, and I will act a brother's part by her, untilI may have won a right to call her something more. Have no fearsfor her. I will die sooner than she shall suffer. Her father shallnot visit on her his wrath at your escape. "

The cousins parted on excellent terms, and Cuthbert turned, with astrange smile on his brave young face, for a last look at the oldGate House, the gray masonry of which gleamed out between the darkmasses of the leafless trees, a single light flickering faintly inan upper casement. 

"Petronella's light!" murmured Cuthbert to himself. "I trow wellshe is thinking of me and praying for me before the little shrinein the turret. May the Holy Saints and Blessed Virgin watch overand protect her! I trust the day may come ere long when I may havepower to rescue her from that evil home, and give to her a dowerthat shall make her not unworthy of being Philip's wife. "

By which it may be seen that Cuthbert's thoughts were still runningon the lost treasure, and that he had by no means relinquished hisdream of discovery through hearing how others had sought andfailed. 

"If I may but win a little gold in these winter days when theforest is too inhospitable to be scoured and searched, I can givethe whole of the summer to the quest. I will find these gipsies ortheir descendants and live amongst them as one of them. I willlearn their ways, win their trust, and gradually discover all thatthey themselves know. Who dare say that I may not yet be the one tobring back the lost luck to the house of Trevlyn? Has it alwaysbeen the prosperous and rich that have won the greatest prize? Ahumble youth such as I may do far more in the wild forest thanthose who have been bred to ease and luxury, and have to keep stateand dignity. "

Thus musing, Cuthbert rode slowly along in the light of the risingmoon, his thoughts less occupied with the things he was leavingbehind than with thoughts of the future and what it was to bringforth. The lad had all the pride of his house latent within him, and it delighted him to picture the day when he might return allSir Richard's benefits a thousandfold by coming to him with thenews of the lost treasure, and bidding him take the elder brother'sshare before ever his own father even knew that it had been foundat last. His heart beat high as he pictured that day, and thoughthow he should watch the light coming into Kate's bright eyes, asthe obstacle to her nuptials should be thus removed. Sure she couldcoax her father to remove his veto and overlook the cousinship ifshe had dower to satisfy Lord Andover. And if the Trevlyn treasurewere but half what men believed, there would be ample to dower allthree daughters and fill the family coffers, too. 

"In truth it is a thing well worth living for!" cried the eagerlad, as he pushed his way out of the wood and upon the highroad, where for a time travelling was somewhat better. "And why should Inot succeed even though others have failed? My proud kinsmen havenever lived in the forest themselves, learning its every secretwinding track, making friends of its wild sons and daughters, learning the strange lore that only the children of the forestgather. What chance had they of learning secrets which but few mayknow? I trow none. I will not believe that great treasure has beencast away to the four winds. I verily believe it is still hiddenaway beneath the earth in some strange resting place known but to afew living souls. What do these wild gipsy folks want with gold andsilver and jewels? They have all they need with the heavens abovethem and the earth beneath. They may love to have a buried hoard;they may love to feel that they have treasure at command if theydesire it; but I can better believe they would keep it safe hiddenin their forest or moorland home than that they would scatter itabroad by dividing it amongst their tribe. Moreover, any suchsudden wealth would draw upon them suspicion and contumely. Theywould be hunted down and persecuted like the Jews in old days. No:they may well have stolen it out of revenge, but I believe theyhave hidden it away as they took it. It shall be my part to learnwhere it lies; and may the Holy Saints aid and bless me in thesearch!"

Cuthbert crossed himself as he invoked the Saints, for at heart hewas a Romanist still, albeit he had had the wit to see that thesame cardinal doctrines were taught by the Established Church ofthe land, whose services he had several times attended. And even ashe made the gesture he became suddenly aware that he was not aloneon the road. A solitary traveller mounted on a strong horse wasstanding beneath the shadow of a tree hard by, and regarding hisapproach with some curiosity, though the lad had not been aware ofhis close proximity until his horse paused and snorted. 

"Good even, young man, " said this traveller, in a pleasant voicethat bespoke gentle birth. "I was waiting to see if I had an enemyto deal with in the shape of one of those rogues of the road, cutpurses or highwaymen, of whom one bears so many a long tale. Butthese travel in companies, and it behoves wise travellers to dolikewise. How comes it that a stripling like you are out alone inthis lone place? Is it a hardy courage or stern necessity?"

"I know not that it is one or the other, " answered Cuthbert. "But Ihave not far to go this night, and I have not much to lose, thoughas that little is my all I shall make a fight ere I part with it. But by what I hear there is little danger of molestation till onereaches Hammerton Heath. And I propose to halt on the edge of thatplace, and sleep at the hostelry there. "

"If you follow my counsel, my young friend, " said the stranger ashe paced along beside Cuthbert, "you will not adventure yourself inthat den of thieves. Not long ago it was a safe place for atraveller, but now it is more perilous to enter those doors than tospend the darkest night upon the road. The new landlord is inleague with the worst of the rogues and foot pads who frequent theheath, and no traveller who dares to ask a night's shelter there isallowed to depart without suffering injury either in person orpocket. Whither are you bound, my young friend, if I may ask thequestion?"

"For London, sir. I have an uncle there whom I am about to seek. But the way is something strange to me when the heath be passed, and I know not if I can find it in the dark. "

"I also am bound for London, " answered the stranger, "and in thesedays it is better to travel two than one, and four than two. Butbeing no more than two, we must e'en hope for the best if we fallnot in with other belated travellers. My business brooked notdelay; wherefore I came alone. I mislike the fetter of a retinue ofservants, and I have had wonderful good hap on the roads; but therebe others who tell a different tale, and I often join company whenI find a traveller to my liking going my way. "

Cuthbert was glad enough to have a companion. This man was manyyears his senior, so that he was somewhat flattered by theproposition of riding in his company; moreover, he was plainly agentleman of some condition, whose fancy it was (not his necessity)to travel thus unattended. Also he was speedily conscious of astrange sense of fascination which this stranger exercised uponhim, for which he could not in the least account; and he quicklyfound himself answering the questions carelessly addressed to himwith a freedom that surprised himself; for why should there be suchpleasure in talking of himself and his prospects to one whose namehe did not even know?

When first he had pronounced his name, he observed that thestranger gave him a quick, keen glance; and after they had beensome time in conversation, he spoke with a sudden gravity andearnestness that was decidedly impressive. 

"Young man, I trust that you are loyal and true to the faith ofthose forefathers of yours who have been one of England's brightestornaments. In these latter days there has been a falling away. Menhave let slip the ancient truths. Love of the world has beenstronger within them than love of the truth. They have letthemselves be corrupted by heresy; they have lost their first love. I trust it is not so with you. I trust you are one of the faithfulwho are yet looking for brighter days for England, when she shallbe gathered again to the arms of the true Church. But a few minutesago I saw you make the holy sign, and my heart went out to you asto a brother. These Protestants deny and contemn that symbol, asthey despise and contemn in their wantonness the ordinances of Godand the authority of His Vicar. I trust you have not fallen intolike error; I trust that you are a true son of the old stock ofTrevlyn?"

"I know little of such disputed matters, " answered Cuthbert, made alittle nervous by the ardent glance bent upon him from the brighteyes of the speaker. He had a dark, narrow face, pale and eager, asmall, pointed beard trimmed after the fashion of the times, andthe wide-brimmed sugar-loaf hat drawn down upon his brows cast adeep shadow over his features. But his voice was peculiarlymelodious and persuasive, and there was a nameless attraction abouthim that Cuthbert was quick to feel. Others in the days to followfelt it to their own undoing, but of that the lad knew nothing. Heonly wished to retain the good opinion this stranger seemed to haveformed of him. 

"I have led but a hermit's life, as I have told you. I have beenbred up in the faith of my forefathers, and that faith I believe. What perplexes me is that those who hold the Established orReformed faith, as men term it, have the same creeds, the samedoctrines as we ourselves. I have from time to time conformed tothe law, and gone to the services, and I have not heard aughtspoken within their walls that our good priest in old days used notto tell me was sound doctrine. There be things he taught me thatthese men say naught about; but no man may in one discourse touchupon every point of doctrine. I freely own that I have been sorelyperplexed to know whence comes all this strife, all these heartburnings. "

"Thou wilt know and understand full soon, when once thou hast seenthe life of the great city and the strife of faction there, "answered his companion, lapsing into the familiar "thou" as hespoke with increased earnestness. "In thy hermit's life thou hasthad no knowledge of the robbery, the desecration, the pollutionwhich our Holy Mother Church has undergone from these pestilentheretics, who have thought to denude her of her beauty and herglory, whilst striving to retain such things as jump with theircrabbed humours, and may be pared down to please their poisoned andvicious minds. Ah! it makes the blood boil in the veins of the truesons of the Church, as thou wilt find, my youthful friend, whenthou gettest amongst them. But it will not always last. The day ofreckoning will come--nay, is already coming when men shall findthat the Blessed and Holy Church may not be defiled and downtroddenwith impunity for ever. Ah yes! the day will come--it is even atthe door--when God shall arise and his enemies be scattered. Scattered--scattered! verily that is the word. And the sons of thetrue faith throughout the length and breadth of the land shallarise and rejoice, and the heretics shall stand amazed andconfounded!"

As he spoke these words his figure seemed to expand, and he raisedhis right hand to heaven with a peculiar gesture of mingled menaceand appeal. Cuthbert was silent and amazed. He did not understandin the least the tenor of these wild words, but he was awed andimpressed, and felt at once that the strife and stress of the greatworld into which he was faring was something very different fromanything he had conceived of before. 

By this time the travellers had reached the dreary waste called bythe inhabitants Hammerton Heath. At some seasons of the year it wasgolden with gorse or purple with ling, but in this drear winterseason it was bare and colourless, and utterly desolate. Theoutline of dark forests could be seen all around on the horizon;but the road led over the exposed ground, where not a tree brokethe monotony of the way. Cuthbert was glad enough to have acompanion to ride by his side over the lonely waste, which lookedits loneliest in the cold radiance of the moon. He did not reply tothe strange words he had just heard, and his companion, after abrief pause, resumed his discourse in a different tone, telling thelad more about London and the life there than ever he had heard inhis life before. But the moral of his discourse was always thesufferings, the wrongs, the troubles of the Roman Catholics, whohad looked for better times under Mary Stuart's son; and graduallyraising within the breast of the youth a feeling of warm sympathywith those of his own faith, and a distrust and abhorrence of thelaws that made life well nigh impossible for the true sons of theChurch. 

"Ruined in estate, too often injured in body, hated, despised, hunted to death like beasts of the earth, what is left for us butsome great struggle after our lives and liberties?" concluded thespeaker, in his half melancholy, half ardent way. "Verily, whenthings be so bad that they cannot well be worse, then truly menbegin to think that the hour of action is at hand. Be the nightnever so long, the dawn comes at last. And so will our day dawn forus--though it may dawn in clouds of smoke and vapour, and with aterrible sound of destruction. "

But these last words were hardly heard by Cuthbert, whose attentionhad been attracted by the regular beat of horse hoofs upon the roadbehind. Although the track was but a sandy path full of ruts andholes, the sound travelled clearly through the still night air. Whoever these new travellers were, they were coming along at abrisk pace, and Cuthbert drew rein to look behind him. 

"There be horsemen coming this way!" he said. 

"Ay, verily there be; and moreover I mislike their looks. Honestfolks do not gallop over these bad roads in yon headlong fashion. Idoubt not they be robbers, eager to overtake and despoil us. Wemust make shift to press on at the top of our speed. This is an illplace to be overtaken. We have no chance against such numbers. Luckily our steeds are not way worn; they have but joggedcomfortably along these many miles. Push your beast to a gallop, mylad; there is no time to lose. "

Cuthbert essayed to do this; but honest old Dobbin had no notion ofa pace faster than a leisurely amble. Most of his work had beendone in the plough, and he had no liking for the rapid gallopdemanded by his rider. 

The lad soon saw how it stood with him, and called out to hiswell-mounted companion not to tarry for him, but to leave him tochance and kind fortune. 

"I have so little to lose that they may not think me worth therobbing, belike. But you, sir, must not linger. Your good steed isequal to theirs, I doubt not, and will carry you safe across theheath. "

"Ay, verily he will. I purchased him for that same speed, and ithas never failed me yet. I fear not pursuit. My only peril lies inthe chance of meeting a second band watching the road farther on. Ilike not thus to leave you, boy; but I have no choice. I may notrisk being robbed of my papers. There be more in them than must besuffered to be scanned by any eyes for which they were not meant. My gold might go, and welcome, but I must save my papers. And ifthou hast any small valuables about thee, I will charge myself withthe care of them, and thou canst call at my lodging in London whenthou gettest there to claim thine own again. 'Twill be the betterchance than leaving yon gentlemen to rid thee of them. "

The smile with which the stranger uttered these words was sowinning and frank, that Cuthbert placed his purse in theoutstretched hand without a qualm. 

"When thou wantest thine own again, go to the Cat and Fiddle in thethoroughfare of Holborn, and ask news there of Master RobertCatesby. It is an eating house and tavern where I am constantly tobe met with. If I be not lodging there at that very time, thou wilthave news of me there. Farewell; and keep up a brave heart. Thesefellows are less harsh with poor travellers than rich. Let them seeyou have small fear, and it will be the better for all. "

These last words were faintly borne back to Cuthbert on the wingsof the wind, as his companion galloped with long easy stridesacross the heath. A little dip in the ground hid for a moment theirpursuers from sight, and before they emerged upon the crest of theundulation, Master Robert Catesby was practically out of sight; fora cloud had obscured the brightness of the moon, and only a shortdistance off objects became invisible. 

Cuthbert rode slowly on his way, trying to compose himself to thestate of coolness and courage that he would like to show in thehour of danger. He felt the beatings of his heart, but they weredue as much to excitement as to fear. In truth he was more excitedthan afraid; for he had absolutely nothing to lose save a suit ofold clothes and his horse, and both of these were in sorry enoughplight to be little tempting to those hardy ruffians, who wereaccustomed to have travellers to rob of a far superior stamp. 

Nearer and nearer came the galloping horse hoofs, and a loud, roughvoice ordered him to stop. 

Cuthbert obeyed, and wheeled round on his placid steed, who showedno sign of disquietude or excitement, but at once commenced tonibble the short grass that grew beside the sandy track. 

"And what do you want of me, gentlemen?" asked Cuthbert, as hefound himself confronted by half-a-dozen stalwart fellows, withswarthy faces and vigorous frames. They were all armed and wellmounted, and would have been formidable enough to a wealthytraveller with his stuff or valuables about him. 

"Your money--or your life!" was the concise reply and Cuthbert wasable to smile as he replied:

"Marry then, it must be my life, for money I have none. I havenaught but an old suit of clothes and a breviary in yon bag. Youare welcome to both an ye will condescend to wear such habiliments;but I trow ye would find them sorry garments after those ye nowdisplay. "

"Tut, tut! we will see to that. There be many cunning fashions ofhiding money, and we are used to such tales as yours. Where is yourcompanion, young man?"

"Nay, I have no companion, " answered Cuthbert, who was sufficientlyimbued with the spirit of his father's creed not to hesitate for amoment to utter an untruth in a good cause, and think no shame ofit; "I am journeying forth to London alone, to seek a relativethere, who methinks will help me to earn an honest livelihood. Iwould I were the rich man you take me for. But even the dress Iwear is mine through the charity of a kinsman, as is also the nag Iride. And I misdoubt me if you would find him of much use to you inyour occupation. "

One or two of the men laughed. They looked at Dobbin and then athis rider, and seemed to give credence to this tale. Cuthbert'sboyish face and fearless manner seemed to work in his favour, andone of the band remarked that he was a bold young blade, and if insearch of a fortune, might do worse than cast in his lot with them. 

"Yet I verily thought there had been two, " grumbled another of theband; "I wonder if he speaks sooth. "

"I warrant me he does, else where should the other be? It was atrick of the moonlight; it often deceives us so. 

"Come now, my young cockerel; you can crow lustily, it seems, andkeep a bold face where others shrink and tremble and flee. How sayyou? will you follow us to our lodging place for the night? And ifwe find no money concealed about you, and if your story of yourpoverty be true, you can think well whether you will choose to castin your lot with us. Many a poor man has done so and become rich, and the life is a better one than many. "

All this was spoken in a careless, mocking way, and Cuthbert didnot know if the proposal were made in good faith or no. But it wasplain that no harm was meant to his life or person, and as he wasin no fear from any search of his clothes and bag, he was ready andwilling to accept the invitation offered, and by no means sorry tothink he should be relieved from spending the night in the saddle. 

"I will gladly go with you, " he answered. "I have spoken naught butsooth, and I have no fear. My person and my goods are in yourhands. Do as you will with them; I have too little to lose to makea moan were you to rob me of all. "

"We rob not the poor; we only rob the rich--those arrogant, purse-proud rogues who batten and fatten on what they wring fromthe poor, " answered, in quick, scornful accents, the man whoappeared to be the leader of this little band. "On them we havescant pity. They have but stolen, in cunning though lawful fashion, what we wrest from them, lawlessly it may be, yet with as good aright in the sight of the free heavens as any they practise. But wefilch not gold nor goods from the poor, the thrifty, the sons oftoil; nay, there be times when we restore to these what has beendrained from them by injustice and tyranny. We be not the commonfreebooters of the road, who set on all alike, and take human lifefor pure love of killing. We have our own laws, our own ways, ourown code of right and wrong; and we recruit our ranks from boldlads like you, upon whom fortune has not smiled, and who come to usto see if we can help them to better things. "

Cuthbert was greatly interested in this adventure. He looked intothe dark, handsome face of the man who rode beside him, andwondered if some gipsy blood might not run in his veins. The gipsypeople of whom Kate had spoken were well known in all this region, and despite the roving life they led, appeared to be rooted to acertain extent to this wild and wooded tract. He had seen darkfaces like this before in the woods; he had often heard stories ofthe doings of the gipsies around. Before, he had not thought muchof this; but now, his interest was keenly excited, and he wasdelighted to have this opportunity of studying them at closequarters. 

"Where are we going, Tyrrel?" asked one of the followers. "It is abitter cold night, now the wind has shifted, and we are far enoughaway from Dead Man's Hole. "

"I am not bound for Dead Man's Hole. We will to the ruined mill, and ask Miriam to give us shelter for the night. We have riddenfar, and our steeds are weary. I trow she will give us a welcome. "

This proposition seemed to give general satisfaction. The menplodded on after their leader, who kept Cuthbert close beside him, and they all moved across the heath in an irregular fashion, following some path known only to themselves, until they reachedthe wooded track to the left, and plunged into the brushwood again, picking their way carefully as they went, and all the whiledescending lower and lower into the hollow, till the rush of waterbecame more and more distinctly audible, and Cuthbert knew by thesound that they must be approaching a waterfall of some kind. 

One of the men had ridden forward to give notice of their approach, and soon in the flickering moonlight the gray walls of an ancientmill, now greatly fallen to decay, became visible to thetravellers' eyes. From the open door streamed out a flood of ruddylight, cheering indeed to cold and weary men; whilst framed in thisruddy glow was a tall and picturesque figure--the figure of an oldwoman, a scarlet kerchief tied over her white hair, whilst herdress displayed that picturesque medley of colours that has alwaysbeen the prevailing characteristic of the gipsy race. 

"You are welcome, son Tyrrel, " quoth the mistress of this lonedwelling, as the little cavalcade drew up at the door. "It is longsince you favoured old Miriam with a visit. Yet you come at no illtime, since Red Ronald brought us in a fat buck but yesternight, and I have made oaten cakes today, and pies of the best. But who isthat with you! I like not new faces in my dwelling place. It werewell you should remember this ere you bring a stranger with you. "

The old woman's face suddenly darkened as she spoke these lastwords, and her wonderful eyes, so large and dark as to resemblerather those of a deer than a human being, flashed fiercely, whilstshe seemed about to close the door in Tyrrel's face. But he pushedin with a light laugh, leading Cuthbert with him, and saying as hedid so:

"Nay, nay, mother, be not so fierce. He is an honest lad enough, Itrow; if not, 'twill be the worse for him anon. We have brought himhither to search him if he carries gold concealed. If not, and heproves to have spoken sooth, he may go his way or join with us, whichever likes him best. We could do with a few more bold lads, since death has been something busy of late; and he seems to havethe grit in him one looks for in those who join with us. Moreover, he has the dark eyes, and would soon have the swarth skin, thatdistinguish our merry men all. 

"How now, mother! Thou hast eyes for none but the lad! Why lookstthou at him so?"

Cuthbert, too, gazed wonderingly at the handsome old gipsy, whocontinued to keep her eyes fixed upon him, as if by a species offascination. He could no more withdraw his gaze than can the birdwhom the snake is luring to destruction. 

"Boy, what is thy name?" she asked, in a quick, harsh whisper. 

"Cuthbert Trevlyn, " he answered, without hesitation, and at thename a wild laugh rang out through the vaulted room, illumined bythe glow of a huge fire of logs, whilst all present started andlooked at one another. 

"I knew it--I knew it!" cried the old woman, with a wild gesture ofher withered arms, which were bare to the elbow, as though she hadbeen engaged in culinary tasks. "I knew it--I knew it! I knew itthe moment the light fell upon his face. Trevlyn--Trevlyn! one ofthat accursed brood! Heaven be praised, the hour of vengeance hascome! We will do unto one of them even as they did unto us;" andshe waved her arms again in the air, and glanced towards theglowing fire on the hearth with a look in her wild eyes that for amoment caused Cuthbert's heart to stand still. For he rememberedthe story of the witch burned by his grand sire's mandate, and hefelt he was not mistaken in the interpretation he had put upon theold woman's words. 

But Tyrrel roughly interposed. 

"No more of that, mother, " he said. "We have wiped out that oldscore long ago. The lad is a bold lad, Trevlyn or no. Let us tosupper now, and forget those accursed beldam's tales. Where is LongRobin, and what is he doing? and where is Joanna tonight?"

"Here, " answered a clear, full voice from the shadows of theinglenook, and forth there stepped a very queenly-looking woman, inthe prime of life, when youth's bloom has not been altogether leftbehind, and yet all the grace of womanhood, with its dignity andease, has come to give an added charm. One glance from the oldwoman's face to that of the young one showed them to be mother anddaughter, and it did not take a sharp eye to see that Tyrrel, as hewas always called, was deeply enamoured of the beautiful Joanna, though treated by her with scant notice, and as though he were yeta boy, scarce worthy of being looked at or spoken to. 

She stood in the glow of the fire, a tall, graceful presence, tothe full as picturesque as her gipsy mother, and far moreattractive. Cuthbert's eyes turned upon her with an unconsciousappeal in them; for it suddenly dawned upon him that for a Trevlynto adventure himself amongst these wild gipsy folks was likeputting the head into a lion's mouth. 

It almost seemed as though Joanna read this doubt and this fear;for a flashing smile crossed her dark face, and she held out ashapely hand to lead the guest to the table. 

"Thou art welcome to our board, Cuthbert Trevlyn, " she said, "as isany hapless stranger in these wilds, be he Trevlyn or no. Thoushalt eat our salt this night, and then woe betide the man whodares to lay hand on thee;" and such a glance was flashed aroundfrom her magnificent dark eyes as caused each one that met it toresolve to take good heed to his ways. "Thou shalt come and gounmolested; Joanna the Gipsy Queen has so decreed it!"

Every one present, the old woman included, bent the head at thesewords, and Cuthbert felt by some instinct that his life was nowsafe. 

Chapter 5: The House On The Bridge. 

"Keren Happuch. "

"Yes, aunt. "

The reply came only after a brief pause, as though the rosy-cheekedmaiden at the casement would fain have declined to answer to thatabhorred name had she dared--which was indeed pretty much the case;for though it was undeniably her own, and she could not gainsay theunpalatable fact, nobody in the world but Aunt Susan ever aggrievedher by using it. Even her grave father had adopted the "Cherry"that was universal alike with relatives and friends, and the girlnever heard the clumsy and odious appellation without a naturallonging to box the offender's ears. 

"What art doing, child?" questioned the voice from below. 

Now Cherry was undeniably idling away the morning hours by lookingout of her window at the lively scene below; and perhaps it wasscarce wonderful that the sights and sounds without attracted her. It was a sunny November morning, and the sun was shining quitehotly; for the soft wind from the south was blowing--it hadsuddenly veered round in the night--and all nature seemed to berejoicing in the change. The river ran sparkling on its way to thesea; the barges and wherries, and larger craft that anchored in thestream or plied their way up and down, gave animation andbrightness to the great water way; whilst the old bridge, with itsquaint-timbered houses with their projecting upper stories, itsshops with their swinging signs, and noisy apprentices crying theirmasters' wares or playing or quarrelling in the open street, andits throngs of passers by, from the blind beggar to the gay courtgallant, provided a shifting and endless panorama of entertainmentto the onlooker, which pretty Mistress Cherry certainlyappreciated, if no one else in that grave Puritan household did thelike. But possibly she thought that her aunt's question must not betoo literally answered, for she hastily skipped across the panelledchamber, seized her distaff, and answered meekly;

"I am about to spin, aunt. "

"Humph!" the answer sounded more like a grunt than anything else, and warned Cherry that Mistress Susan, her father's sister, who hadruled his household for the past ten years, since the death of hiswife, was in no very amiable temper. 

"I know what that means. Thy spinning is a fine excuse for idlingaway thy time in the parlour, when thou mightest be learninghousewifery below. Much flax thou spinnest when I am not by towatch! It is a pity thou wert not a fine lady born!"

Cherry certainly was decidedly of this opinion herself, albeit shewould not have dared to say as much. She liked soft raiment, brightcolours, dainty ways, and pretty speeches. Looking down from herwindow upon the passers by, it was her favourite pastime to fancyherself one of the hooped and powdered and gorgeously-apparelledladies, with their monstrous farthingales, their stiff petticoats, their fans, their patches, and their saucy, coquettish ways to thegentlemen in their train. All this bedizenment, which had by nomeans died out with the death of a Queen who had loved andencouraged it, was dear to the eyes of the little maiden, whose ownsad-coloured garments and severe simplicity of attire was aconstant source of annoyance to her. Not that she wished to ape thefine dames in her small person. She knew her place better thanthat. She was a tradesman's daughter, and it would ill havebeseemed her to attire herself in silk and velvet, even though thesumptuary laws had been repealed. But she did not see why she mightnot have a scarlet under-petticoat like Rachel Dyson, her owncousin, or a gay bird's wing to adorn her hat on holiday occasions. The utmost she had ever achieved for herself was a fine softcoverchief for her head, instead of the close unyielding coif whichall her relatives wore, which quite concealed their hair, and gavea quaint severity to their square and homely faces. Cherry's facewas not square, but a little pointed, piquant countenance, fromwhich a pair of long-lashed gray eyes looked forth with saucy, mischievous brightness. Her skin was very fair, with a peach-likebloom upon it, and her pretty hair hung round it in a mass of redgold curls. 

Cherry, it must be confessed, would have liked to leave her hairuncovered, but this was altogether against the traditions of herfamily. But she had contrived to assume the softly-flowingcoverchief, more like a veil than a cap, which was infinitelybecoming to the sweet childish face, and allowed the pretty curlsto be seen flowing down on either side till they reached theshoulders. For the rest, her dress was severely plain in itssimplicity: the snow-white kerchief, crossed in front and made fastbehind; the under-petticoat of gray homespun, just showing theblack hose and buckled shoes beneath; and the over-dress of sombreblack or dark brown, puffed out a little over the hips in thepannier fashion, but without any pretence at following theextravagances of the day. The sleeves buttoned tightly to the lowerarm, though wider at the cuff, and rose high upon the shoulder withsomething of a puff. It was a simple and by no means an unbecomingstyle of costume; but Cherry secretly repined at the monotony ofalways dressing in precisely the same fashion. Other friends of herown standing had plenty of pretty things suited to their station, and why not she? If she asked the question of any, the answer shealways got was that her father followed the Puritan fashions ofdressing and thinking and speaking, and that he held fine clothesin abhorrence. Cherry would pout a little, and think it a hardthing that she had been born a Puritan's daughter; but on the wholeshe was happy and contented enough, only she did reckon the rule ofAunt Susan in her father's house as something of a hardship. 

But it did not do to offend that worthy dame, who was the verymodel of all housewives, and whose careful management and excellentcookery caused Martin Holt's house to be something of a proverb anda pattern to other folks' wives. So now the girl repliedsubmissively:

"I need not spin, an it please thee not, aunt. Hast thou aught forme to do below?"

"Ay, plenty, child, if thou canst give thy mind to work. AbrahamDyson and Anthony Cole sup with us tonight, and I am making aherring pie. "

A herring pie was a serious undertaking in the domestic economy ofthe house on the bridge, and Mistress Susan prided herself on herskill in the concoction of this delicate dish above almost anyother achievement. She had a mysterious receipt of her own for it, into the secret of which she would let no other living soul, noteven the dutiful nieces who assisted at the manufacture of thecomponent parts. Cherry heaved a sigh when she heard what was inprospect, but laid aside her distaff and proceeded to don a greatcoarse apron, and to unbutton and turn back her sleeves, leavingher pretty round white arms bare for her culinary task. But therewas a little pucker of perplexity and vexation on her forehead, which was not caused by any distaste of cookery. 

"If Uncle Abraham comes, sure he will bring Jacob with him; healways does. If it were Rachel I would not mind; but I cannot abearJacob, with his great hairy hands and fat cheeks. And if I be pertto him, my father chides; and if I be kind, he makes me past allpatience with his rolling eyes and foolish ways and words. I knowwhat they all think; but I'll none of him! He had better try forKezzie, who would jump down his throat as soon as look at him. Shefair rails on me for not treating him well. Let her take himherself, the loutish loon!"

And tossing her head so that her coverchief required readjusting, Cherry slipped down the narrow wooden staircase into the rooms thatlay below. 

Kitchen and dining parlour occupied the whole of this floor, whichwas not the ground floor of the house. That was taken up by theshop, in which Martin Holt's samples of wools and stuffs wereexposed. He was more (to borrow a modern expression) in thewholesale than the retail line of business, and his shop wasnothing very great to look at, and did not at all indicate thescope of his real trade and substance; but it was a convenientplace for customers to come to, to examine samples and talk overtheir orders. Martin Holt sat all day long in a parlour behind theshop, pretty well filled with bales and sacks and other impedimentaof his trade, and received those who came to him in the way ofbusiness. He had warehouses, too, along the wharves of ThamesStreet, and visited them regularly; but he preferred to transactbusiness in his own house, and this dull-looking shop was quite asmall centre for wool merchants, wool manufacturers, and even forthe farmers who grew the wool on the backs of the sheep they bredin the green pastures. No more upright and fair-dealing man thanMartin Holt was to be found in all London town; and though he hadnot made haste to be rich, like some, nor had his father beforehim, having a wholesome horror of those tricks and shifts whichhave grown more and more common as the world has grown older, yethonest dealing and equitable trading had had its own substantialreward, and wealth was now steadily flowing into Martin's coffers, albeit he remained just the same simple, unassuming man of businessas he had ever been when the golden stream of prosperity had notreached his doors. 

But the ground floor of the bridge house being occupied in businesspurposes, the first floor had of necessity been given up to cookeryand feeding. The front room was the eating parlour, and was onlyfurnished by a long table and benches, with one high-backedarmchair at either end. It overlooked the street and the river, like the living parlour above; and behind lay the kitchen, with aback kitchen or scullery beyond. From the windows of either ofthese back rooms the busy cooks could fling their refuse into theriver, and exceedingly handy did they find this, as did likewisetheir neighbours. Nor did the fact that the river water was drunkby themselves and a large number of the inhabitants of the city inany way interfere with their satisfaction at the convenience ofthese domestic arrangements. The beat, beat of the great waterwheel was always in their ears to remind them; but no misgivingshad yet assailed our forefathers as to the desirability of drinkingwater polluted by sewage and other abominations. True, the plaguewas constantly desolating the city, and had been raging soviolently but a single year back that the King's coronation hadwell nigh had to be postponed, and he dared not adventure himselfinto London itself, nor summon his Parliament to meet him there. But it was for another generation to put together cause and effect, and wonder how far tainted water was responsible for the spread ofthe fatal malady. 

As Cherry entered the eating parlour, her two sisters looked upfrom their tasks, as if with a smile of welcome. Jemima was busywith the almond paste, which was an important ingredient of theherring pie; Keziah was stoning the dates, grating the manchet, andpreparing the numerous other ingredients--currants, gooseberries, barberries--which, being preserved in bottles in the spring andsummer, were always ready to hand in Mistress Susan's cookery. Fromthe open door of the kitchen proceeded a villainous smell ofherrings, which caused Cherry to turn up her pretty nose in agrimace that set Keziah laughing. Both these elder damsels, whowere neither blooming nor pretty nor graceful, like their youngestsister, though they bid fair to be excellent housewives and docileand tractable spouses, delighted in the beauty and wit andfreshness of Cherry. They had never envied her her pretty ways andcharming face, but had taken the same pleasure in both that amother or affectionate aunt might do. They spoke of her and thoughtof her as "the child, " and if any hard or disagreeable piece ofwork had to be done, they both vied with each other in contrivingthat it should not fall to Cherry's lot. 

Cherry, although she dearly loved her homely sisters, as well shemight, never could quite realize that they were her sisters, andnot her aunts. Although Keziah was only six years her senior, itseemed more like ten, and Jemima had three years' start of Keziah. They treated her with an indulgence rare between sisters, and fromthe fact of their being so staid and grave for their years, Cherrycould scarcely be blamed for feeling as though she was the onlyyoung thing in the house. Her father talked of grave matters withher aunt and sisters, whilst she sat gaping in weariness or got abook in which to lose herself. They understood those mysterioustheological and political discussions which were a constant sourceof perplexity and irritation to Cherry. 

"As if it mattered one way or another, " she would say to herself. "I can't see that one way is a bit better than another! I wonderfolks can care to make such a coil about it. "

"Hast come to help us with the pie, Cherry?" asked Jemima kindly. "There, then, take my place with the paste; 'tis almost ready, butwould do with a trifle more beating. And there be fowls to draw andget ready for the oven, and I know thou lovest not such a task. "

Cherry shuddered at the thought, and gladly took Jemima's place, tasting the almond with an air of relish, and going about her taskswith a dainty air that would have angered Aunt Susan, but whichhonest Keziah regarded with admiration. 

"How many be coming to supper tonight?" asked Cherry. "Is it to bea gathering?"

"Nay, I scarce know. I have only heard what aunt said to thee. Father spoke of guests without saying the number, and she said ouruncle would be there, and Master Anthony Cole and his son. Whetherthere be any others I know not; belike Rachel and Jacob may cometoo. "

"Now I am sore puzzled anent this Anthony Cole, " said Cherry, asshe beat her paste and leaned towards Keziah, so that her voicemight not carry as far as the kitchen. 

"And wherefore art thou puzzled, child?"

"Marry, because it was but a short while ago that we were forbideven to speak with him or any in his house, neighbours though webe; and now he comes oft, and father gives him good welcome, andbids him to sup with us. It fairly perplexes me to know why. "

Keziah also lowered her voice as she replied:

"We were forbid his house because that he and his household be allPapists. "

"Ay, verily, that I know. But they be none the less Papists now, and yet we give them good day when we meet, and sit at the sameboard with them in all amity. Are they turning Protestant then, orwhat?"

Keziah shook her head. 

"It is not that, " she said. 

Nay, then, what is it?"

"Marry, methinks it is that we are companions in distress, and thata common trouble draws us the closer together. Thou must haveheard--"

"Oh, I hear words, words, words! but I heed them not. It is likeeating dust and ashes. "

"Nay, thou art but a child, and these things are not for children, "answered Keziah, indulgently. "And, indeed, they are hard to beunderstood, save by the wise and learned. But this much I gather:When the King came to the throne, all men hoped for betterdays--liberty to think each according to his conscience, libertyeach to follow his own priest or pastor, and join without fear inhis own form of worship. The Papists believed that the son of MaryStuart would scarce show severity to them. The Puritans wereassured that one bred up by the Presbyterians of Scotland wouldsurely incline to their ways of worship and thought. But the Kinghas disappointed both, and has allied himself heart and soul withthe Episcopal faction and the Church of the Establishment; and, notcontent with that, is striving to enforce the penal statutesagainst all who do not conform as they were never enforced in theQueen's time. Wherefore, as thou mayest understand, the Papists and thePuritans alike suffer, and so suffering are something drawn together asfriends, albeit in doctrine they are wide asunder--wider than we fromthe Establishment or they from it. But trouble drives even foes tomake common cause sometimes. "

Cherry sighed impatiently. 

"I would that men would e'en forget all these vexed doctrines anddry dogmas, and learn to enjoy life as it might be enjoyed. Why arewe for ever lamenting evils which none may put right? What does itmatter whether we pray to God in a fine church or a homely room? Iwould fain go to church with the fine folk, since the King willhave it so, and strive to find God there as well as in the barebarn where Master Baker holds his meeting. They bid us read ourBibles, but they will not let us obey the commands laid down--"

"Nay, hush, Cherry! hush, hush! What and if Aunt Susan heard?"

"Let her hear!" cried the defiant Cherry, though she lowered hervoice instinctively at the warning; "I am saying naught to beashamed of. I know naught about these matters of disputing; I onlyknow that the Bible bids folks submit themselves to the powers thatbe, whether they be kings, or rulers, or magistrates, because thepowers that be are of God. So that I see not why we go not tochurch as the King bids us. And again I read that wherever two orthree are gathered together in Christ's name, there will He be inthe midst of them. So why we cannot go peacefully to church, sinceHe will be there with us, I for one cannot see. I trow even theboldest Papist or Puritan would not dare deny that He was as muchin the midst of those congregations as in ours. If they do they beworse than Pagans, for every one that goes to church goes to prayto God and to Jesus Christ. "

Keziah looked flustered and scared. Cherry's words, though spokenin some temper and despite, contained certain elements of shrewdinsight and sound common sense, which she had doubtless inheritedfrom her father. She had something of the boldness and independenceof mind that a spoiled child not unfrequently acquires, and she wasnot accustomed to mince her words when speaking with her sisters. 

Hush! oh hush, child! Father would not list to hear such words froma daughter of his. It is for women to learn, and not to teach; tolisten, but not to speak. "

"Oh yes, well do I know that. Have I not listened, and listened, and listened, till I have well nigh fallen asleep; and what senseis there in all the wranglings and disputations? Why cannot menthink as they like, and let other folks alone? What harm does it doany that another should have a different opinion of his own?"

"I trow that is what father really thinks, " said Keziah, thoughtfully; "but all men declare that it is needful for there tobe outward uniformity of worship. And I trow that father would bewilling to conform if they would but let our preachers and teachersalone to hold private meetings in peace. But so long as they badgerand persecute and imprison them, he will have naught to do with thebishops and clergy who set them on, nor will he attend theirchurches, be the law what it may. He says it is like turning backin the hour of peril: that is not his way. "

"I like that feeling, " answered Cherry, with kindling eyes. "Ifthat be so, I mind it less. Father is a good man, and full ofcourage; but I grow full weary of these never-ending talks. Kezzie, thinkest thou that he will be put in prison for keeping from churchwith his whole house? Some men have been sent to prison for less. "

"I know not how that may be, " answered Keziah, gravely. "He is auseful citizen, and a man of substance; and by what I hear, such asthese are left alone so long as they abide quiet and peaceable. Just now the Papists are being worse treated than we. Methinks thatis why father is so sorry for them. "

"Too much talk! too much talk!" cried Aunt Susan's voice from theadjoining kitchen. "Hands lag when tongues wag; wherefore do yourwork in silence. Is that almond paste ready, Keren Happuch? Thenbring it quickly hither; and your manchet and sugar, Keziah, forthe skins are ready to be stuffed. "

And as the girls obediently brought the required ingredients, theyfound themselves in a long, low room, at the end of which a hugefire burned in a somewhat primitive stove, whilst a tall, angular, and powerful-looking dame, with her long upper robe well tucked up, and her gray hair pushed tightly away beneath a severe-lookingcoif, was superintending a number of culinary tasks, Jemima and aserving wench obeying the glance of her eye and the turn of herhand with the precision of long practice. 

Certainly it was plain that Martin Holt's guests would not starvethat night. The herring pie was only the crowning delicacy of theboard, which was to groan beneath a variety of appetizing dishes. The Puritans were a temperate race, and the baneful habit of sackdrinking at all hours, of perpetual pledgings and toastings, andthe large consumption of fiery liquors, was at a discount in theirhouses; but they nevertheless liked a good table as well as therest of their kind, and saw no hurt in sitting down to a generouslysupplied board, whilst they made up for their abstemiousness in thematter of liquor by the healthy and voracious appetite whichspeedily caused the good cheer to melt away. 

Mistress Susan was so intent on her preparations that she scarcelylet her nieces pause to eat their frugal midday dinner. Martinhimself was out on business, and would dine abroad that day, andnothing better pleased the careful housewife than to dispense withany formal dinner when there was a company supper to be cooked, andthus save the attendant labour of washing up as well as the timewasted in the consumption of the meal. 

Jemima and Keziah never dreamed of disputing their aunt's will; butCherry pouted and complained that it was hard to work all daywithout even the dinner hour as a relief. Mistress Susan gave her asharp rebuke that silenced without subduing her; and she keptthrowing wistful glances out of the window, watching the play ofsunshine on the water, and longing to be out in the fresh air--forsuch a day as this was too good to be wasted indoors. Tomorrowbelike the sun would not shine, and the wind would be cold andnipping. 

Jemima and Keziah saw the wistful glances, and longed to interposeon behalf of their favourite; but Mistress Susan was not one it waswell to interfere with, and Cherry was not in favour that day. Butan inspiration came over Jemima at last, and she suddenlyexclaimed:

"Sure, but how badly we need some fresh rushes for the parlourfloor! There be not enough to cover it, and they all brown and old. There has been scarce any frost as yet. I trow the river rusheswill be yet green, and at least they will be fresh. Could not thechild be spared to run out to try and get some? She is a betterhand at that than at her cooking. I will finish her pastry if thouwilt spare her to get the reeds. I love not a floor like you, andmethinks father will chide an he sees. "

Mistress Susan cast a quick glance at the rush-strewn floor, andcould not but agree with her niece. She had all the truehousewife's instinct of neatness and cleanliness in every detail. The filthy habit of letting rushes rot on the floor, and onlypiling fresh ones on the top as occasion demanded, found no favourin this house. It was part of Cherry's work and delight to cut themfresh as often as there was need, but a spell of wet weather hadhindered her from her river-side rambles of late, with theconsequence that the supply was unwontedly low. 

"Oh, any one can do Keren Happuch's work and feel nothing added toher toil, " was the sharp response. "Small use are her hands in anykitchen. We had better make up our minds to wed her to a finegentleman, who wants naught of his wife but to dress up in grandgowns, and smirk and simper over her fan; for no useful work willhe get out of her. If rushes are wanted, she had better go quicklyand cut them--

"And mind, do not stray too far along the banks, child; and watchthe sky, and be in before the sun is down. The evenings draw in soquick now; and I would not have you abroad after nightfall for allthe gold of Ophir. "

Cherry had no desire for such a thing to happen either. London inthe darkness of the night was a terrible place. Out from all thedens of Whitefriars and other like places swarmed the ruffian andcriminal population that by day slunk away like evil beasts ofnight into hiding. The streets were made absolutely perilous by thebands of cutthroats and cutpurses who prowled about, setting uponbelated pedestrians or unwary travellers, and robbing, insulting, and maltreating them--not unfrequently leaving the wretched victimdead or dying, to be found later by the cowardly watchman, whogenerally took good care not to be near the spot at the time of theaffray. Ladies of quality never went abroad unattended even by day;but Cherry was no fine lady, and Martin Holt had no notion ofencouraging the child's native vanity by making any differencebetwixt her and her sisters. Jemima and Keziah had been alwaysaccustomed to go about in the neighbourhood of their homeunmolested, and thought nothing of it; and though Cherry's rosycheeks, slim, graceful figure, and bright, laughing eyes mightchance to take the fancy of some bold roisterer or dandy, and leadto an address which might frighten or annoy the maid, her fatherconsidered this the less danger than bringing her up to thinkherself too captivating to go about unguarded; and up till now shehad met with no unwelcome admiration or annoyance of any kind inher limited rovings. 

So she set forth blithely this afternoon, her cloak and hoodmuffling well both face and figure, her clogs on her feet, sincethe river bank would be muddy and treacherous at this time of year, and a long, open basket on her arm, thinking of nothing but thedelights of escaping from the weary monotony of pastry making andherb shredding, and from the overpowering odour of that mysteriousherring pie. Cherry liked well enough to eat of it when it wasplaced upon the board, but she always wished she had not knownanything of the process; she thought she should enjoy it so muchthe more. 

Crossing the bridge, and exchanging many greetings as she trippedalong, for every neighbour was in some sort a friend, andbright-eyed Cherry was a favourite with all--she turned to theright as she quitted the bridge, and walked in a westerly directionalong the river bank, towards the great beds of reeds and rushesthat stretched away in endless succession so soon as the few housesand gardens springing up on this side the river had been passed by. 

Certainly there was no lack of green rushes. The autumn had beenmild, and though the past few days had been chill and biting, ithad not told to any great extent upon the rushes yet. Cherryplunged eagerly amongst them, selecting and cutting with aprecision and rapidity that told of long practice. She was resolvedto take home as many as ever she could carry, and these all of thebest, since the supply would soon cease, and she knew thedifference in the lasting power of the full, thick rushes and thelittle flimsy ones. 

But it was later than she had known when she left home. Thebrightness of the sunshine had deceived her, and she had beendetained a few minutes upon the bridge, first by one and then byanother, all asking kindly questions of her. Then her fastidiousselection of her rushes caused her to wander further and furtheralong the banks in search of prizes; and when at last her bigbasket was quite full, and correspondingly heavy, she looked roundher with a start almost of dismay; for the gray twilight wasalready settling down over the dark river, and she was full a mileaway from home, with a heavy load to carry. 

Cherry's heart fluttered a little, but it was rather in fear of heraunt's displeasure than of any mischance likely to happen toherself. She had been often to these osier beds, and had neverencountered a living soul there, and she would soon reach theregion of walls and gardens that adjoined the southern end of thebridge. So taking her basket on her arm, she pushed her way upwardsfrom the river to the path along which lay her road, and turningher face homeward, made all the haste she could to get back. 

But how dark it looked to the eastward! Did ever evening close inso fast? And how black and cold the river looked! She neverremembered to have seen it quite so cheerless and gloomy before. Athick white fog was rising from the marshy lands, and she could notsee the friendly twinkling lights upon the bridge. Despite herexertions, which were great, she felt chill and shivery; and whenat last she heard the sound of a lusty shout behind her, her heartseemed to stand still with terror, and she stopped short and gazedwildly back, to see whence the noise came. 

What she saw by no means reassured her. Some fifty yards behind, but mounted on fine horses, were two young gentlemen, plainly in astate of tipsy merriment, and by no means disposed to allow anyprey, in the shape of a woman old or young, to escape them withoutsome sort of pleasantry on their part. Cherry heard their laughterand their coarse words without understanding what it all meant; buta great terror took hold of her, and leaving her basket in themiddle of the path, in the vain hope of tripping up the tipsyriders, she fled wildly along in the direction of home. Her hoodfalling back, disclosed her pretty floating curls beneath, and sogave greater zest to the pursuit. Fleet of foot she might be, butwhat availed that against the speed of the two fine horses? Sheheard their galloping hoofs closer and closer behind her. She knewthat they were almost up with her now. Even the osier beds wouldafford her no protection from horsemen, and she feared to trustherself to the slippery ooze when the daylight had fled. With ashort, sharp cry she sank upon the ground, exhausted and half deadwith terror, and she heard the brutal shout of triumph with whichthe roisterers hailed this sight. 

In another moment they would be upon her. She heard them shoutingto their horses as they pulled them up. But was there not anothersound, too? What was the meaning of that fierce demand in a verydifferent voice? She lifted her head to see a third rider spurringup at a hand gallop, and before she had time to make up her mindwhether or not this was a third foe, or a defender suddenly arisenas it were from the very heart of the earth, she felt herselfcovered as by some protecting presence, and heard a firm voiceabove her saying:

"The first man who dares attempt to touch her I shoot dead!"

There was a great deal of blustering and swearing and hectoring. Cherry, still crouched upon the ground, shivered at the hideousimprecations levelled at her protector, and feared every momentto see him struck to the ground. But he held his positionunflinchingly, and the tipsy gallants contented themselves withvituperation and hard words. Perhaps they thought the game notworth the candle. Perhaps they deemed a simple city maid not worththe trouble of an encounter. Perhaps they were too unsteady ontheir legs to desire to provoke the hostile overtures of this tall, dark-faced stripling, who appeared ready to do battle with the pairof them, and that without the least fear. At any rate, after muchhard swearing, the estimable comrades mounted their horses again, and rode on in the gathering darkness; whilst Cherry felt herselflifted up with all courtesy and reverence, and a pleasant voiceasked in bashful accents, very unlike the firm, defiant tonesaddressed to her persecutors, whether she were hurt. 

"Not hurt, only frightened, fair sir, " answered Cherry, beginningto recover her breath and her self possession, as she divined thather protector was now more embarrassed at the situation than shewas herself. "How can I thank you for your timely help? I was wellnigh dead with terror till I heard your voice holding them at bay. Right bold it was of you to come to my assistance when you had twofoes against you. "

"Nay, fair lady, I were less than a man had I stayed for twenty. "

"I like you none the less for your brave words, sir, and I believethat you have courage to face an army. But I may not linger hereeven to speak my thanks. I shall be in sore disgrace at home fortarrying out thus long in the dark. "

"But you will grant to me to see you safe to your door, lady?"

"Ay, truly will I, an you will, " answered Cherry, as much from realnervous fear as from the coquetry which made such companionshippleasant. "But I would fain go back a few paces for my poor reeds, that I go not home empty handed. And you must catch your steed, SirKnight; he seems disposed to wander away at his own will. "

"My steed will come at a call. He is a faithful beast, and notaddicted to errant moods. Let us fetch your basket, lady, and thento your home. 

"Is this it? Prithee, let me carry it; its weight is too much foryou. See, I will place it so on Dobbin's broad back, and then wecan jog along easily together. "

Cherry, her fears allayed, and her imaginative fancy pleased by thetermination to this adventure, chatted gaily to her tall companion;and as they neared the bridge with its many twinkling lights, shepointed out one of the houses in the middle, and told her companionthat she dwelt there. His face turned eagerly upon her at hearingthat. 

"I am right glad to hear it, for perchance you can then direct meto the dwelling of Master Martin Holt, the wool stapler, if he yetplies his trade there as his father did before him. "

"Martin Holt!" cried Cherry, eagerly interrupting. "Why, good sir, Martin Holt is my father. "

The young man stopped short in amaze, and then said slowly, "Verily, this is a wondrous hap, for Martin Holt is mine own uncle. I am Cuthbert Trevlyn, the son of his sister Bridget. "

Chapter 6: Martin Holt's Supper Party. 

Six o'clock was the almost universal hour for supper amongst thewell-to-do classes, both gentle and simple, and Martin Holt'sfamily sat down to the well-spread board punctually to the minuteevery day of their lives. But though there was no eating beforethat hour, the invited guests who were intimate at the housegenerally arrived about dusk, and were served with hot ginger winewith lumps of butter floating in it, or some similar concoctionaccounted a delicacy in those days of coarse feeding, and indulgedin discussion and conversation which was the preliminary to theserious business of supper. 

At four o'clock, then, Mistress Susan's table was set, the homespuncloth of excellent texture and whiteness spread upon the board, which was further adorned by plates and tankards, knives and evenforks, though these last-named articles were quite a novelty, andrather lightly esteemed by Mistress Susan, who was a rigidconservative in all domestic matters. All the cold provisions hadbeen laid upon the table. The serving woman in the kitchen hadreceived full instruction as to those that remained in or about thestove. The ladies had doffed their big aprons, and had donned theirSunday coifs and kerchiefs and better gowns, and were now assembledin the upper parlour, where the spinning wheels stood, ready toreceive the guests when they should come. 

Cherry's absence had not yet excited any uneasiness, although heraunt had made one or two severe remarks as to her love forjunketing abroad, and frivolity in general. Her sisters had laidout her dress in readiness for her, and had taken her part withtheir accustomed warmth and goodwill. They were not at all afraidof her not turning up safe and sound. Cherry had many friends, andit was just as likely as not that she would stop and gossip allalong the bridge as she came home. She took something of theprivilege of a spoiled child, despite her aunt's rigid training. She knew her sisters never looked askance at her; that her fatherfound it hard to scold severely, however grave he might try to lookto please Aunt Susan; and it was perfectly well known in the housethat she had no liking for those grave debates that formed theprelude to the supper downstairs. It was like enough she wouldlinger without as long as she dared, and then spend as much time aspossible strewing her rushes and dressing herself, so that sheshould not have long to listen to the talk of the elders. 

Jemima and Keziah had long since trained themselves to that perfectstillness and decorous silence that was deemed fitting for women, and especially young women, in presence of their elders, They hadeven begun to take a certain interest in the questions discussed. But to Cherry it was simple penance to have to sit for one hour ormore, her tongue and her active limbs alike chained, and hersisters were quite prepared for the absence of the younger girlwhen the guests dropped in one by one. 

Their uncle, Abraham Dyson, was the first arrival, and behind himfollowed his son and daughter, Jacob and Rachel. Rachel was a buxomyoung woman of five-and-twenty, shortly to be advanced to thedignity of a wedded wife. She would have been married before butfor the feeble health of her mother; but the ceremony was not to bepostponed much longer on that account, for fear the bridegroom, asilk mercer in thriving way of business, should grow weary ofdelay, and seek another partner for his hand and home. But AbrahamDyson saw another way of getting his sick wife properly looked to, and had whispered his notion in the ear of his brother-in-law. TheDysons and the Holts had had intimate business dealing with eachother for generations, and there had been many matrimonialconnections between them in times past. Martin himself had marriedAbraham's sister, and he listened with equanimity and pleasure tothe proposal to ally one of his daughters with the solid and stolidJacob. 

Jacob was not much to look at, but he would be a man ofconsiderable substance in time, and he had a shrewd head enough forbusiness. As it had not pleased Providence to bless Martin Holtwith sons, the best he could do was to find suitable husbands forhis daughters, and seek amongst his sons-in-law for one into whosehands his business might worthily be intrusted. Daughters werestill, and for many generations later, looked upon very much in thelight of chattels to be disposed of at will by their parents andguardians, and it had not entered honest Martin's head that hiswilful little Cherry would dare to set up her will in opposition tohis. 

Jacob, who had been taken into the confidence of his elders, hadexpressed his preference for the youngest of his three cousins; andthough not a word had been spoken to the girl upon the subject asyet, Martin looked upon the matter as settled. 

Scarcely had the bustle of the first arrivals died down before theremaining two guests arrived--a tall, bent man with the face of astudent and book lover, followed by his son, also a man of ratherdistinguished appearance for his station in life. The two Coles, father and son, were amongst those many Roman Catholic suffererswho had been ruined on account of their religion during the lastreign; and now they gained a somewhat scanty livelihood by keepinga second-hand book shop on the bridge, selling paper and parchmentand such like goods, and acting as scriveners to any who shoulddesire to avail themselves of their skill in penmanship. 

They were both reputed to be men of considerable learning, and asthey had fallen from a different position, they were looked up towith a certain amount of respect. Some were disposed to sneer atand flout them, but they were on the whole well liked amongst theirneighbours. They were very quiet people, and never spoke one wordof the matters which came to their knowledge through the lettersthey were from time to time called upon to write. Almost everysurrounding family had in some sort or another intrusted them withsome family secret or testamentary deposition, and would on thisaccount alone have been averse to quarrelling with them, for fearthey might let out the secret. 

Martin found his neighbour Anthony by far the most interesting ofhis acquaintances, and the fact of this common disappointment inthe new King, and the common persecution instituted against bothRomanists and Puritans, had drawn them more together of late thanever before. Both were men of considerable enlightenment of mind;both desired to see toleration extended to all (though each mighthave regarded with more complacency an act of uniformity thatstrove to bring all men to his own particular way of thinking andworship), and both agreed in a hearty contempt for the mean andpaltry King, who had made such lavish promises in the days of hisadversity, only to cancel them the moment he had the power, andfling himself blindly into the arms of the dominant faction of theEpiscopacy. 

All the guests were cordially welcomed by the family of MartinHolt. The three elder men sat round the fire, and plunged intoanimated discussion almost at once. Jacob Dyson got into a chairsomehow beside Keziah, and stared uneasily round the room; whilstWalter Cole took up his position beside Jemima, and strove toentertain her by the account of some tilting and artillery practice(as archery was still called) that he had been witnessing in SpitalFields. He spoke of the courage and prowess of the young Prince ofWales, and how great a contrast he presented to his father. Thecontempt that was beginning to manifest itself towards the lucklessJames in his English subjects was no more plainly manifested thanin the London citizens. Elizabeth, with all her follies and herfaults, had been the idol of London, as her father before her. Nowa reaction had set in, and no scorn could be too great for herundignified and presumptuous successor. This contempt was wellshown by the dry reply of the Lord Mayor some few years later, whenthe King, in a rage at being refused a loan he desired of thecitizens, threatened to remove his Court and all records and jewelsfrom the Tower and Westminster Hall to another place, as a mark ofhis displeasure. The Lord Mayor listened calmly to this terriblethreat, and then made submissive answer. 

"Your Majesty hath power to do what you please, " he said, "and yourcity of London will obey accordingly; but she humbly desires thatwhen your Majesty shall remove your Courts, you would graciouslyplease to leave the Thames behind you. "

But to return to the house on the bridge and the occupants ofMartin Holt's parlour. Whilst Jemima and Keziah listened eagerly tothe stories of the student's son, with the delight natural toPuritan maidens denied any participation in such scenes ofmerriment, Jacob was looking rather dismally round the room, andpresently broke in with the question:

"But where, all this time, is Cherry?"

"Strewing rushes in the eating parlour, I doubt not, " answeredKeziah. "She went out a while back to cut them. She loveth not drydisputings and learned talk. Belike she will linger below till nighon the supper hour an Aunt Susan call her not. "

"I love not such disputings neither, " said Jacob, with unwontedenergy. "Good Kezzie, let us twain slip below to help Cherry overher task. "

Keziah gave a quick glance at the face of her stern aunt, who lovednot this sort of slipping away during times of ceremony; but shehad her back to them and to the door, and was engrossed in the talkas well as in the stocking fabric upon her needles. Jemima andWalter were still talking unrebuked in a low key. Perchance thisflitting could be accomplished without drawing down either noticeor remark. To please Jacob, Keziah would have done much, even torunning the risk of a scolding from her aunt. She had none of saucyCherry's scorn of the big boorish fellow with the red face andhairy hands. She looked below the surface, and knew that a kindlyheart beat beneath the ungainly habit; and being but plain herself, Keziah would have taken shame to herself for thinking scorn ofanother for a like defect. 

Putting her finger on her lip in token of caution, she effected aquiet retreat, and the next moment the two cousins stood flushedbut elated in the eating parlour below. But though it was now pastfive o'clock, there was no sign of Cherry or her rushes, and Keziahlooked both surprised and uneasy. 

"Belike she came in with dirty clogs and skirt, and has gone up toher bed chamber to change them, for fear of Aunt Susan telling hershe was cluttering up the parlour, " said the sister, anxiously. "Iwill run and see. Sure she can never have lingered so late besidethe river! The sun has been long down, and the fog is rising. "

Keziah tripped upstairs lightly enough, but speedily came down witha grave face. 

"She is not there, " was her answer to Jacob's glance of inquiry. "What must we do? If we make a coil about it, and she comes in, having only gossiped awhile with the neighbours along the bridge, aunt will surely chide her sharply, and send her to bed supperless. But if she should have met some mischance--" and Keziah broke off, looking frightened enough, for it was no light matter to meetmischance alone and unprotected in the dark. 

"I will go forth to seek her, " cried Jacob, with unwontedanimation. "It boots not for a man to be abroad after dark, but fora maid it is an ill tiding indeed. Which way went she? to the osierbeds! Sure I must find her ere long. Were it not well for me to go, good Kezzie?"

"I would that some would go, but I trow thou hadst better notadventure thyself alone. Belike Master Walter would be thycompanion. If there be peril abroad, it is better there should betwain than one. And you will want lanterns and stout staffs, too. "

"Run thou and light the lanterns, good coz, and I will to Walterand ask his company. It grows thicker and darker every moment. IfCherry be not within, it behoves us to make search for her. "

Keziah's face was pale with terror as she flew to do Jacob'sbidding. She had a terrible fear of London streets, at night, aswell she might, and the open country beyond was even worse to herexcited imagination. And Cherry was so pretty, so simple, socredulous, and withal so utterly defenceless should there be anysort of attack made upon her. Keziah's hands shook as she lightedthe lantern; and as minutes were fast slipping away and still therewas no sign of the truant, she was rather relieved than terrifiedto hear the sharp accents of her aunt's voice mingling with herfather's deeper tones as the whole party came tramping down thestairs. It was plain that Jacob had let the secret ooze out, andthat all the company had become alarmed. Cherry's name was on alllips, and Martin was asking his sister somewhat sternly why she hadoverlooked the non-return of the girl at dusk. 

Miss Susan was sharply defending herself on the score of hermanifold duties and Cherry's well-known gadding propensities. Shenever looked to see her home before dusk, as she was certain tostay out as long as she dared, and since then she had taken it forgranted that the little hussy had come in, and was doing over thefloor with her rushes. 

Martin paid small heed to this shrill torrent of words, but withanxious face was pulling on his long outer hoots, and selecting thestoutest oaken staff of the number stacked in the corner, invitinghis guests to arm themselves in like fashion. 

Jemima and Keziah, feeling as though some blame attached to them, looked on with pale faces, whilst Rachel chattered volubly of thehorrors she had often heard of as being perpetrated in the streets. Her brother turned upon her roughly at last, and bid her cease herill-omened croaking; whereat she tossed her head and muttered agood many scornful interjections, and "could not see why she needbe called to task like that. "

The whole party descended to the door when the preparations for thestart were complete. It was striking half after five on many of thecity clocks as Martin threw open his door. But he had scarcelystepped across the threshold before he heard a familiar littleshriek; there was a rush of steps from somewhere in the darknesswithout, and Cherry, with an abandon very foreign to the times andher training, and indicative of much agitation and emotion, flungherself upon his breast, and threw her arms about his neck. 

"Here I am, father; there has no hurt befallen me!" she cried inbroken gasps. "But I know not what fearful thing was like to havehappened had it not been for the help of this gallant gentleman, who came in the very nick of time to drive off my assailants andbring me safe home. And oh, my father, such a wonderful thing! Ican scarce believe it myself! This gentleman is no stranger;leastways he may not so be treated, for he is our very own fleshand blood--my cousin, thy nephew. He is Cuthbert Trevlyn, son tothat sister Bridget of thine of whom we have sometimes heard theespeak!"

A strange dead silence fell on the group clustered in the doorwaywith lanterns and staffs. All looked out into the darkness in amist of perplexity and doubt, to see, as their eyes grew used tothe obscurity, the tall figure of a slim, dark-faced youth standingbeside a tired-looking horse, and steadying upon the saddle a largebasket of rushes. 

Martin Holt, after one minute of utter silence, released theclinging arms from about his neck, pushed Cherry not ungentlytowards her sisters, and stepped forward towards her preserver. 

"This is a strange thing my daughter tells me, young sir, " he said, as he scanned the horseman's face narrowly by the light of hislantern. "I find it hard to credit my senses. Art sure that she hasunderstood thee aright? Is Cuthbert Trevlyn truly thy name?"

"Ay, truly it is; and my mother's was Bridget Holt, and she lefther home long years ago as waiting maid to my Lady Adelaide deGrey, and led a happy life till some evil hap threw her across thepath of Nicholas Trevlyn, who made her his wife. I trow she many atime rued the day when she was thus persuaded; but repentance cametoo late, and death soon relieved her of her load of misery. Thatshe bequeathed to her children; and here am I this day a wandererfrom my father's house, constrained to seek shelter from herkindred, since flesh and blood can no longer endure the misery ofdwelling beneath his roof. "

"Jacob, " said Martin Holt, "take yon steed to the stables of MasterMiller, and ask him for fodder and tendance for the beast for thisnight. 

"Young sir, thou hast a strange story to tell, and I would hear itanon. If thou hadst not succoured my daughter in her hour of need, I must have bid thee welcome to my house and my table. Since thouhast done this also, I do it the more readily. I scarce knew thatmy misguided sister had borne a son. Whether he lived or died I hadno means of knowing. But if thou art he, come in, and be welcome. Iwill hear thy tale anon. Meantime stand no longer without in thecold. "

If this welcome were something coldly given, Cuthbert was not awareof it. Used as he was to his father's fierce sullenness andtaciturnity, any other manner seemed warm and pleasant. He followedthis new uncle up the dark staircase without any misgiving, andfound himself quickly in the well-warmed and well-lighted eatingparlour, where Mistress Susan was already bustling about in a verynoisy fashion, getting the viands ready for serving. A dark frownwas on her face, and her whole aspect was thundery. 

The sisters and Rachel had all vanished upstairs to hear Cherry'sstory as they got her ready for the supper table, excitement inthis new arrival of an unknown kinsman having saved the girl fromany chiding or questioning from father or aunt. The Coles, fatherand son, had returned to the upper parlour with the discretion andrefinement of feeling natural to them; so that only Abraham Dysonwitnessed the next scene in the little domestic drama, for Jacobhad obediently gone off with the horse. 

Martin Holt pushed his nephew before him into the lighted room, andlooked him well over from head to foot. 

"There is little of thy mother about thee, boy, " he said, with somestern bitterness of tone. "I fear me thou art all thy father'sson. "

"My father says not so, " answered Cuthbert, facing his unclefearlessly. "He has flung it again and yet again in my teeth that Iam the heretic son of my heretic mother. "

Martin Holt uttered an inarticulate exclamation and came a stepnearer. 

"Say that again, boy--say that again! Can it be true that thyunhappy and deluded mother repented of her Popish errors ere shedied, and turned back to the pure faith of her childhood? If thatbe so, it is like a mill stone rolled from off my heart. I havewept for her all these years as for one of the lost. "

"I was too young when she died to remember aught of her teaching, but I have seen those who tell me she was fearfully unhappy with myfather, and abjured his faith ere she died. I know that he revilesher memory, and he forbids even her children to speak of her. Hewould scarce have branded her with the hateful name of heretic hadshe adhered to his faith till her death. "

"Susan, dost hear that?" cried Martin Holt, turning exultantly tohis sister. "It was as our mother fondly said. She was not lost forever; she returned to her former faith. Nay, I doubt not that insome sort she died for it--died through the harshness and sternnessof her husband. Susan, dost hear--dost understand?"

But Susan only turned a sour face towards her brother. 

"I hear, " she answered ungraciously. "But the boy has doubtlessbeen bred a Papist. Who can believe a word he says? Doubtless hehas been sent here to corrupt your daughters, as Bridget wascorrupted by his father. I would liefer put my hand in the maw of amad dog than my faith in the word of a Papist. "

Cuthbert did not wince beneath this harsh speech, he was too wellinured to such; he only looked at his aunt with grave curiosity ashe answered thoughtfully:

"Methinks it is something hard to believe them, always. Yet I haveknown them speak sooth as well as other men. But I myself wouldsooner put confidence in the word of one of the other faith. Theyhold not with falsehood in a good cause as our father confessorsdo. Wherefore, if it were for that alone, I would sooner be aheretic, albeit there be many things about my father's faith that Ilove and cling to. "

This answer caused Martin to look more closely at his nephew, discerning in him something of the fearless Puritan spirit, as wellas that instinctive desire to weigh and judge for himself that wasone of his own characteristics. Papist the lad might be by trainingand inheritance, but it was plain that at present he was no bigot. He would not strive to corrupt his cousins; rather were they likelyto influence and draw him. 

Susan flounced back to the kitchen without another word, onlymuttering to herself prognostications of evil if such a popinjaywere admitted into the household. Not that Cuthbert's sober ridingsuit merited such a criticism, for there was nothing fine about itat all; yet it had been fashionably cut in its day, and still hadthe nameless air that always clings to a thoroughly well-madegarment, even when it has seen its best days; and the Puritans werealready beginning to show, by their plain and severe dress, theircontempt for frivolity and extravagance, though the differencebetween their clothes and those of other men was not so marked asit became in the next reign. 

However, there was not much more time for conversation on privatethemes. Jacob returned from stabling the horse; the girls fromabove descended, full of curiosity about this new cousin. TheColes, father and son, joined the party assembled round the table, and were introduced to Cuthbert, whom, as a Trevlyn, they regardedwith considerable interest, and then the guests and the family wereall placed--Mistress Susan and the two elder nieces only seatingthemselves at the last, when they had finished putting all thesavoury dishes on the table. Cuthbert's eyes grew round with amazeat the sight of all the good cheer before him. Even at TrevlynChase he had never seen quite such an array of dishes and meats;and as he was the greatest stranger and a traveller to boot, he washelped with the greatest liberality, and pressed to partake ofevery dish. 

Cherry was called upon for an account of her adventures, and waschidden sharply by her aunt for her folly and carelessness afterbeing warned not to be overtaken by the darkness. But her fatherwas too thankful to have her safe home to say much; and Rachel, whosat on Cuthbert's other side, plied him with questions about hisown share in the adventure, and praised him in warm terms for hisheroism, till the lad grew shamefaced and abashed, and was gladwhen the talk drifted away from private to public matters, and hecould listen without being called upon to speak. 

Moreover, he was all eagerness to hear what he could of suchtopics. He knew so little what was stirring in the country, and waseager to learn more. He kept hearing the words "Bye" and "Main"bandied about amongst the speakers, and at last he asked hisneighbour in a whisper what was meant by the terms. 

"Marry, two villainous Popish plots, " answered Rachel, who was glibenough with her tongue. "And many heads have fallen already, andperhaps more will yet fall; for Sir Walter Raleigh is still in theTower, and my Lord Grey, too. Confusion to all traitors andplotters, say I! Why cannot men live pleasantly and easily? Theymight well do so, an they would cease from their evil practices, and from making such a coil about what hurts none. If they wouldbut go to church like sensible Christians, nobody would have a wordagainst them; but they are like mules and pigs, and they canneither be led nor driven straight. I go to church every Sunday ofmy life, and what there is to fall foul of I never can guess. Butmen be such blind, obstinate fools, they must always be putting arope round their necks. They say London is seething now with plots, and no man can feel safe for a day nor an hour. "

Cuthbert gave one swift backward thought to his companion of theroad and the strange words he had uttered; and he asked withincreasing interest of his lively neighbour:

"But what do men think to gain by such plots? What is the object ofthem?"

"Beshrew me if I know or care! My father says they be all mad together, the moonstruck knaves! They say that the 'Bye' was an attempt to makeprisoner of the King's Majesty, and to keep him in captivity till hehad sworn to change his laws and his ministers--as they say was doneonce in Scotland, when he was trying to rule his turbulent subjectsthere. As for the 'Main, ' that was worse; nothing better than themurder of the King and Royal family, so that the Lady Arabella mightbe Queen in his stead. But neither came to good; it seemeth to me thatthese villainous plots never do, And all that results from them is thatthe laws are made harsher and harsher, and men groan and writhe underthem, and curse the King and his ministers, when they had better becursing their own folly and wickedness in trying to overthrow thegovernment of their lawful rulers. "

"That is one side of the question, Mistress Rachel, " said WalterCole, in his quiet voice; "but if none had ever revolted againsttyranny, we had all been slaves this day instead of a free nationof subjects, imposing our just will upon a sovereign in return forthe privileges he grants us. There be limits to endurance. There betimes when those limits are over past, and to submit becomesweakness and coward folly. Thou speakest as one swimming easilywith the stream. Thou knowest little of the perils of the shoalsand quicksands. "

Rachel tossed her head, but was too wary to be drawn into anargument with the man of books. She could air her father's opinionssecond hand with an assumption of great assurance, but she was nohand at argument or fence, and had no desire for an encounter ofwits. 

But Cuthbert stepped eagerly into the breach, and the two menbecame engrossed in talk. Cuthbert heard of acts of tyranny andoppression, cruel punishments and ruinous fines imposed uponhapless Romanists, guiltless of any other offence than of growingup in the faith of their forefathers. He heard, on the other hand, of Puritan preachers deprived of their cures and hunted about likecriminals, though nothing save the crime of unlicensed preachingcould be adduced against them. Cuthbert's blood was young and hot, and easily stirred within him. He began to understand how it wasthat the nation and this great city were never at rest. It seemedto him as though he had stepped down out of a region of snow andice into the very crater of some smouldering volcano which might atany moment burst out into flames. The sensation was strange and alittle intoxicating. He marvelled how he had been content so longto know so little of the great world in which he lived. 

The party broke up all too soon for him; but after the guests hadgone he had yet another interview to go through with his uncle, after the womenkind had been dismissed to bed. 

Firstly, Martin questioned the boy closely as to the circumstancesof his past life--his relations with his father, his training, intellectual and religious, and his final resolve to escape, carried out by the help of Sir Richard and his family. Next, hewent on to ask the youth of his wishes concerning his future; andfinding these as vague as might be expected from his vastinexperience, he smiled, and said that question could stand overfor the present. There was no difficulty about employing talent andenergy in this city of London; and if his nephew developed capacityin any direction, it could doubtless be turned to good account. Meantime he had better dwell beneath this roof, and accustomhimself to new ways and new sights, after which they would talk ofhis future again. 

Nothing could be more to Cuthbert's mind than such a decision; butwhen he tried to express his gratitude, he was speedily silenced. 

"Not a word, boy; not a word! Thou art a near kinsman. Thou hasthad a hard life with thy father, and having claimed the protectionof thy mother's brother, shalt have it, and welcome. But now toanother matter. How art thou off for money? I trow by what thousayest of thy father that he had little to give or spend. "

"He never gave me aught in his life save the poor clothes and foodthat were needful. My uncle gave me a few gold pieces ere I left--Imean my good cousin, Sir Richard. "

"Ay, boy, ay. But I trow that thine own uncle can do better by theethan that. Didst ever know that thy mother once looked to have afortune of her own, albeit a modest one?"

Cuthbert shook his head, and Martin rose from his seat anddisappeared from the room for a few minutes. When he came back hehad a coffer in his hands that seemed to be heavy. He placed it onthe table, and went on with his speech as though he had not beeninterrupted. 

"Yes. Our father was a man of substance, and he had but threechildren--myself, Susan, and Bridget. To me he willed his house, his business, and all the money locked up in that. To Susan andBridget he divided the savings of his lifetime that had not beenused in enlarging the business. There was two thousand poundsapiece for them when he died. "

Cuthbert's eyes dilated with astonishment, but he said nothing, andhis uncle continued speaking. 

"You doubtless marvel why you have received none of this before. Iwill tell you why. When Bridget married a Papist, our father was ina great rage, and vowed she should never have a penny of his money. He scratched her name out of his will, and bid us never speak hername again. But as he lay a-dying, other thoughts came into hismind, and he was unhappy in this thing. He bid me get together thetwo thousand pounds that had once been Bridget's portion, and whenI did so--with some trouble at a short notice--he counted it allover, and with his own hands locked it away in this chest "--layinghis hand on the weighty iron-bound box. "Then he turned to me andsaid, 'Martin, I verily believe that thy sister is dead. Somethingtells me that I shall see her before I see any of you. The dead areever forgiven. Take this coffer and keep it for thy sister'schildren, if she have had the misfortune to bring children intothis world of sorrow. Keep it for them till they be grown. Let nottheir evil father know aught of it. And even then be cautious. Prove and see if they be worthy of wealth--if they will make gooduse of it. It is thine in trust for them. Keep or withhold as thouthinkest right; but be honest and be true, so shall my blessingfollow thee even after death. ' Those were amongst the last words hespoke. I took the chest, and I have kept it until now. I havethought often of it; but no word reached me of my sister, and timehas failed me to seek her abroad. I knew her children, if anylived, could but just have reached man or woman's estate, and Ihave waited to see what would chance. 

"Cuthbert Trevlyn, this chest and all it contains may one day bethine. I give it not yet into thy keeping, for I must prove theefirst; but I tell thee what is within it and what was thy grandsire's charge, that thou mayest know I have no desire save to dowhat is right by thee and thy sister, and that I trust and hope theday may come when I may deliver the chest to thee, to divide withher the portion bequeathed to your hapless mother. "

Cuthbert's astonishment was so great he hardly knew what to say. For himself he cared but little. He was a man, and could fight hisown way in the world. But those golden coins would make a dowry forhis sister that many a high-born dame might envy. A flush came intohis cheek as he thought of Philip's eager words overheard by him. If Petronella was the mistress of a fair fortune, why should anyforbid them to be wed?

Martin liked the lad none the less that his first thought was forhis sister. But for the present Petronella was beneath her father'sroof, and could not be benefited thereby. Still, it would besomething for Cuthbert to know, and to look forward to in thefuture, and therein he rejoiced. 

The chest was carefully restored to its hiding place and securelylocked away, and then the kindly uncle took from his own pocket asmall purse and put it into the reluctant hands of the lad. 

"Nay, nay, thou must not be proud, boy; though I like thee none theless for thy pride and thine independence of spirit. But thou mustnot be penniless as thou goest about this city; and if one unclegave thee gold, why not another? So no more words about it. Takeit, and begone to thy chamber; for we are simple folks that keepearly hours, and I am generally abed an hour ere this. "

So Cuthbert went to his queer little attic chamber beneath thehigh-pitched gable, with a mind confused yet happy, and limbs veryweary with travel. Yet sleep fell upon him almost before his headtouched the pillow, for he had slept but brokenly since leaving hisfather's house, and nature, in spite of all obstacles, was claimingher due at last. 

Chapter 7: The Life Of A Great City. 

And so a new life began for Cuthbert beneath the roof of his uncle. 

He found favour in the sight of Martin Holt because of hisunpretending ways, his willingness, nay, his eagerness to learn, his ready submission to the authority exercised by the master ofthe house upon all beneath his roof, and the absence of anythinglike presumption or superciliousness on his nephew's part on thescore of his patrician birth on his father's side. Trevlyn thoughhe was, the lad conformed to all the ways and usages of the humblerHolts; and even Mistress Susan soon ceased to look sourly at him, for she found him as amenable to her authority as to that ofMartin, and handy and helpful in a thousand little nameless ways. 

He was immensely interested in everything about him. He would aswillingly sit and baste a capon on the spit as ramble abroad in thestreets, if she would but answer his host of inquiries aboutLondon, its ways and its sights. Mistress Susan was not above beingopen to the insidious flattery of being questioned and listened to;and to find herself regarded as an oracle of wisdom and a mine ofinformation could not but be soothing to her vanity, little as sheknew that she possessed her share of that common feminine failing. 

Then Cuthbert was a warm appreciator of her culinary talents. Thepoor boy, who had lived at the Gate House on the scantiest ofcommons, and had been kept to oaten bread and water sometimes for aweek together for a trifling offence, felt indeed that he had cometo a land of plenty when he sat down day after day to his uncle'swell-spread table, and was urged to partake of all manner ofdishes, the very name of which was unknown to him. His keen relishof her dainties, combined with what seemed to her a very modestconsumption of them, pleased Mistress Susan not a little; whilstfor his own part Cuthbert began to look heartier and stronger thanhe had ever done before. The slimness of attenuation was merged inthat of wiry strength and muscle. His dark eyes no longer lookedout from hollow caverns, and the colour which gradually stole intohis brown cheek bespoke increase of health and well being. 

Martin and Susan looked on well pleased by the change. They likedthe lad, and found his Popery of such a mild kind that they felt nomisgiving as to its influence upon the girls. Cuthbert was aswilling to go to a privately conducted Puritan service as to mass, and liked the appointed service of the Establishment rather betterthan either. Martin did not hinder his attending the parish church, though he but rarely put in an appearance himself. He was not oneof the bitter opponents of the Establishment, but he was a bitteropponent of persecution for conscience' sake, and he was naturallyembittered by the new rigour with which the old laws of conformitywere enforced. However, he was true to his principles in that helet Cuthbert go his own way freely, and did not forbid Cherry toaccompany him sometimes to church, where she found muchentertainment and pleasure in watching the fashionable people comeand go; and perhaps her father divined that she would give moreattention to the mode of the ladies' headgears and hair dressingand the cut of their farthingales than to any matters of doctrinethat might be aired in the pulpit. 

As for Cuthbert, he drank in voraciously all that he heard and allthat he saw in this strange place, which seemed to him like theBabylon of old that the Puritan pastors raved over in theirpulpits. He was to be allowed his full liberty for some weeks, tosee the sights of the city and learn his way about it. Perhapsafter Christmastide his uncle would employ him in his shop orwarehouse, but Martin wished to take the measure of the lad beforehe put him to any task. 

So Cuthbert roamed the London streets wondering and amazed. He sawmany a street fight waged between the Templars and 'prentices, andgot a broken head himself from being swept along the tide of mimicbattle. He saw the rude and rabble mob indulging in their favouritepastime of upsetting coaches (hell carts as they chose to dubthem), and roaring with laughter as the frightened occupants stroveto free themselves from the clumsy vehicles. Cuthbert got severalhard knocks as a reward for striving to assist these unlucky wightswhen they chanced to be ladies; but he was too well used to blowsto heed them over much, and could generally give as good as he got. 

The fighting instinct often got him into tight places, as when hesuddenly found himself surrounded by a hooting mob of ruffians inone of the slums of "Alsatia, " as Whitefriars was called, where hehad imprudently adventured himself. And this adventure might havewell had a fatal termination for him, as this was a veritable denof murderers and villains of the deepest dye, and even theauthorities dared not venture within its purlieus to hunt out amissing criminal without a guard of soldiers with them. The abuseof "Sanctuary" was well exemplified by the existing state of thingshere; and though Cuthbert was doing no ill to any soul, but merelygratifying his curiosity by prowling about the narrow dens andalleys, the cry of "A spy! a spy!" soon brought a mob about him, whilst his readiness to engage in battle caused the tumult toredouble itself in an instant. 

The lad had just realized his danger, and faced the fact that thechances of escaping alive were greatly against him, when a windowin a neighbouring house was thrown open, and a stern, musical voiceexclaimed:

"For shame, my children, for shame! Is it to be one against ahundred? Is that Alsatia's honour? What has the lad done?"

Cuthbert raised his eyes and beheld the tonsured head of a priestclad in a rusty black cassock, who was standing at the only windowto be seen in a blank wall somewhat higher than that of the otherhouses surrounding it. The effect of those words on the angrymultitude was wonderful. The hands raised to strike were lowered, and voices on all sides exclaimed:

"It is Father Urban; we may not withstand him. "

Still the anger of the mob was not calmed in a moment, and fiercevoices exclaimed in threatening accents:

"A spy! he is a spy!"

"Then bring him hither to me; I will judge him, " said the priest, in the same tones of calm assurance. "If I find him worthy ofdeath, I will give him over to your hands again. "

"That will do; Father Urban shall judge him!" cried a brawny fellowwho seemed to be something of a leader with his fellows. "TheFather never lied to us yet. He will give him back if he finds hima spy. "

Cuthbert was now jostled and hustled, but not in the same angryfashion, to a small narrow door in a deep embrasure, and when thisdoor presently swung back on its hinges, the crowd surged quicklybackwards as though in some sort afraid. Within the narrow doorwaystood the priest, a small, slim man in rusty black, with a crucifixsuspended from his rosary, which he held up before the crowd, whomost of them crossed themselves with apparent devotion. 

"Peace be with you, my children!" was his somewhat incongruoussalutation to the blood-thirsty mob; and then turning his brightbut benignant eyes upon Cuthbert, he said:

"This is a leper house, my son. Yet methinks thou wilt be saferhere a while than in the street. Dost thou fear to enter? If thoudost, we must e'en talk where we are. "

"I have no fear, " answered Cuthbert, who indeed only experienced alively curiosity. 

The priest seemed pleased with the answer, and drew him within thesheltering door; and Cuthbert followed his guide into a long, lowroom, where a table was spread with trenchers and pitchers, whilstan appetizing odour arose from a saucepan simmering on the fire andstirred by one of the patients, upon whom Cuthbert gazed withfascinated interest. 

"He is well nigh cured, " answered the priest. "Our sick abide onthe floor above; but there be not many here now. The plague carriedoff above half our number last year. 

"But now of thine own matters, boy: how comest thou hither? Thouart a bold lad to venture a stranger into these haunts, unless thoube fleeing a worse peril from the arm of the law; and neither thyface nor thy dress looks like that. Hast thou not heard ofWhitefriars and its perils? or art thou a rustic knave, unversed inthe ways of the town?"

Cuthbert told his story frankly enough. He had lost himself in thestreets, and was in the forbidden region before he well knew. A fewkindly and dexterous questions from Father Urban led him to tellall that there was to know about himself, his parentage and hispast; and the priest listened with great attention, scanning theface of the youth narrowly the while. 

"Trevlyn--the name is known to us. It was a good old name once, andmay be still again. I have seen thy father, Nicholas Trevlyn. Itmay be I shall see him again one day. Be true to thy father'sfaith, boy; be not led away by hireling shepherds. The day iscoming on England when the true faith shall spread from end to endof the land, and all heretics shall be confounded! See that thouart in thy place in that day! See that thou art found by thyfather's side in the hour of victory!"

Cuthbert hung his head a little, and a flush crept into his cheek;but the priest did not appear to heed these slight indications ofembarrassment, as he moved slowly up the stairs to the window aboveto tell the expectant crowd to disperse, as their victim was nospy, but an honest country lad, whose father was known to thepriest, and who had lost his way in London, and strayedinadvertently into their midst. 

Then the crowd having dispersed to seek fresh amusement, thepriest, at Cuthbert's desire, showed him all over this leper house, and told him much respecting the condition of the miserable inmatesbefore they had been admitted to this place of refuge; and Cuthbertgazed with awe-stricken eyes at the scarred and emaciatedsufferers, filled with compassion and not loathing, and at lastdrew forth one of his golden pieces from his purse and asked thepriest to expend it for the benefit of the poor lepers. 

"That will I gladly do, my son. But I must not let thee lingerlonger here; for although I myself hold that the whole and soundare not affected by the taint, there be leeches of repute who swear'tis death to abide long beside the leper. "

"Thou hast not found it so, Father. Dost thou live here?"

"Nay, I have no home. I go hither and thither as duty calls me. ButI am often here with these sick folks of mine, whom so few men willdare approach unto. But I myself have never been the worse for myministrations here, and I have no fears for thee, though I wouldnot have thee linger. We will be going now, and I will be thy guideout of these dens of the earth, else might some more untoward thingbefall thee when none might be nigh to succour thee. "

The priest and the youth passed out together. The early dusk wasbeginning to fall, and Cuthbert was glad enough of the protectionof Father Urban's companionship. All saluted the priest as hepassed by, and few even looked askance at his comrade. Theinfluence of these Roman Catholics over the hearts and feelings ofthe masses has always been very great--something of an enigma and agrievance to those who would fain see naught but evil within thefold of Rome. But facts are stubborn things, and the facts havebeen in this matter in their favour. England as a nation was slowlybut surely throwing off the Papal yoke, and emerging from a regionof darkness and superstition. Nevertheless, the influence of thepriest was a living and often a beneficent influence amongst themost degraded of the people, and he could and did obtain a reverenthearing when no man else coming in the name of Christ would havebeen listened to for a single moment. 

As the pair moved along the dark, noisome streets, Father Urbanspoke again in his quick, imperious way. 

"Thou spakest awhile ago of one Master Robert Catesby; hast thouseen aught of him since thy arrival in London?"

"No, " answered Cuthbert; "I have had much else to do and to thinkof. But I must to him one day, and demand my purse again, else mayhe think I have been left for dead on the highway. "

"He is a good man and a true, " said the priest. "Thou wilt do wellto keep his friendship an thou mayest. Catesby and Trevlyn come ofa good stock; it were well they should consort together. "

Cuthbert recalled some of the strange words spoken by Master Roberton the road, and wondered if he recalled them aright. They seemedto partake of the character of fierce threats. He was not certainthat he altogether relished the thought of such friendship. 

"Mine uncle might not wish me to consort with him, " said the lad, with a little hesitation. "He is but a wool stapler, as I have toldthee, and his friends are simple folks like himself. He meddles notin matters that gentlefolks love. He has no fine company to hishouse. Since it be my lot to abide beneath his roof--"

"Thou must needs conform to his ways; is that so, boy?" asked theFather, interrupting the rather lame and confused speech, andsmiling as he did so. "Ay, conform, conform! Conformity is the wayof the world today! I would not bid thee do otherwise. Yet one bitof counsel will I give thee ere we part. Think not that thou canstnot conform and yet do thy duty by the true faith, too. Be acareful, watchful inmate of thine uncle's house; yet fear not toconsort with good men, too, when thy chance comes. Thou needst nottell thine uncle all. Thou hast reached man's estate, and it isordained of God that men should shake off the fetters that bindthem in youth, and act and judge for themselves. My counsel isthis: be wary, be prudent, be watchful, and lose no opportunity ofgaining the trust of all men. So wilt thou one day live to doservice to many; and thou wilt better understand my words thelonger thou livest in this great city, and learnest more of what isseething below the surface of men's lives. "

And with a few words of dismissal and blessing the Father sentCuthbert on his way, standing still and looking after him till theslight figure was lost to sight in the darkness. 

"There goes a man who by his face might have a great future beforehim, " mused the priest. "It is with such faces as that that menhave gone to prison and to death. "

Cuthbert bent his steps towards the bridge, interested and excitedby his recent adventure, his thoughts directed into a new channel, his memory recalling the first companion of his lonely journey, andthe charm of that companion's personality and address. So manyother things had passed since, impressions had jostled so quicklyone upon the other, that he had scarce thought again of MasterRobert Catesby or the purse he had to claim from him. His newuncle's liberality had made him rich, and a certain natural reservehad held him silent in his Puritan relative's house about anyperson not likely to find favour in Martin Holt's estimation. Hehad been equally reticent about his strange adventure with thegipsies, though he scarce knew why he should not speak of that. But, as a matter of fact, every day brought with it such a crowd ofnew impressions that the earlier ones had already partially fadedfrom his mind. 

But the words of the priest had awakened a new train of thought. Cuthbert resolved not to delay longer the reclamation of his ownproperty. He spoke to Cherry that same evening about his lostpurse, giving her a brief account of his ride across HammertonHeath, and she was eager for him to ask his own, lest he shouldlose it altogether. 

"For gay gallants are not always to be trusted, for all that theylook so fine and speak so fair, " she said, nodding her pretty curlyhead, an arch smile in her big gray eyes. "I have heard my fathersay so a hundred times. I would go quickly and claim mine ownagain. But tell me the rest of the adventure. What didst thou, leftthus alone upon the lone heath? I trow it was an unmanly andunmannerly act to leave thee thus. What befell thee then?"

Cuthbert looked round cautiously; but there was no one listening tothe chatter of this pair of idlers in the window. Mistress Susan'svoice was heard below scolding the serving wench, and Martin Holtwas poring over some big ledger whilst Jemima called over thefigures of a heap of bills. Keziah was at her spinning wheel, whichhummed merrily in the red firelight; and Cherry was seizingadvantage of her aunt's absence to chatter instead of work. 

Cherry had from the first been Cuthbert's confidante and friend. Itwas taken for granted by this time that this should be so. Nobodywas surprised to see them often together, and Cherry had neverfound the house on the bridge so little dull as when Cuthbert camein night by night to give her the most charming and excitingaccounts of his doings and adventures. Once, too, she had gone withhim to see some sights. They had paraded Paul's Walk together, andCuthbert had been half scandalized and wholly astonished to see afine church desecrated to a mere fashionable promenade and loungingplace and mart. They had watched some gallants at their tennisplaying another day, and had even been present at the baiting of abear, when they had come unawares upon the spectacle in theirwanderings. But Cuthbert's ire had been excited through hishumanity and love for dumb animals, and Cherry had been frightenedand sickened by the brutality of the spectacle. And when MartinHolt had inveighed against the practice with all a Puritan'svehemence, Cuthbert had cordially agreed, and had thus drawn as itwere one step nearer the side of the great coming controversy whichhis uncle had embraced. 

These expeditions together had naturally drawn the cousins intocloser bonds of intimacy. Cherry felt privileged to ask questionsof Cuthbert almost at will, and he had no wish to hide anythingfrom her. 

"I will tell thee that adventure some day when we are alone, " heanswered. "I have often longed to share the tale with thee, but wehave had so much else to speak of. I was taken prisoner by therobbers, and conveyed to a ruined mill, where some of theircomrades and some wild gipsies dwell, as I take it, for the greaterpart of the inclement winter. I thought my end had surely come whenfirst I saw the fierce faces round me; but there was one who calledherself their queen, and who made them quit their evil purpose. Sheput me to sit beside her at the board, and when the morning cameshe fed me again and bid me ride forth without fear. She told mecertain things to boot, which I must not forget: but those I willnot speak of till you know the whole strange story. I may not tellit here. I would not that any should know it but thee, Cherry. Butsome day when we can get into some lonely place together I willtell thee all, and we will think together how the thing on which mymind is set may be accomplished. "

Cherry's eyes were dilated with wonder and curiosity. Her cousinall at once took rank as a hero and knight of romance. He hadalready experienced a wonderful adventure, and there was plainlysome mystery behind which was to be made known to her later. 

What a proud thing it was to have such a cousin! How she despisedhonest Jacob now, with his large hands and heavy ways! She hadlaughed at him ever since she could remember, and had ordered himabout much as though he were a faithful dog always ready to do herbidding; but she had never quite realized what a clumsy boor he wastill their handsome, dark-faced Trevlyn cousin had come amongstthem, with his earnest eyes, his graceful movements, and his slim, attractive person. Cuthbert's manners, that in fine society wouldhave been called rustic and unformed, were a great advance onanything Cherry had seen in her own home, save in the person ofAnthony Cole and his son. She admired him immensely, and he wasrapidly becoming the sun and centre of her life; whilst Cuthbert, who had always been used to the companionship of a sister, and whofound several fanciful resemblances as well as so many points ofcontrast between the lively Cherry and the pensive Petronella, wasglad enough of her sisterly friendship and counsel, and did notlose in favour with his uncle that he succeeded in pleasing andbrightening the life of his youngest born, who was in truth theidol of his heart, though he would sooner have cut off his righthand than have let her know as much too plainly. 

As Cherry also was of opinion that Cuthbert ought to reclaim hismoney, he resolved to do so upon the morrow without any furtherloss of time. Cherry advised him not to speak openly of his visitto the tavern, for her father held all such places in abhorrence, and would likely speak in slighting terms of any person who couldfrequent them. He had better prosecute his errand secretly, andtell her the result at the end. Cherry dearly loved a little bit ofmystery, and was very anxious that Cuthbert should continue tooccupy his present position in her father's good graces. 

The Cat and Fiddle was none too well looking a place when Cuthbertsucceeded at last in finding it. It had one door in thethoroughfare of Holborn, but it ran back some way, and its otherdoors opened into a narrow alley turning off from the main streetunder a low archway. As Cuthbert pushed open the door of the publicroom, he saw several men with faces of decidedly unprepossessingtype sitting together at a table engrossed in talk, and these alllooked quickly up as he entered, and gazed at him with undisguisedsuspicion. 

A burly man, who had the look of a host, came forward, and askedhis business rather roughly. Strangers did not appear to meet anywarmth of welcome at this place. Cuthbert answered that he soughtnews of Master Robert Catesby, who had bidden him inquire at thatplace for him. As that name passed his lips he saw a change passover the face of his questioner, and the answer was given with adecided access of friendliness. 

"He is not here now, but he will be here anon. He comes to dineshortly after noon, and will spend some hours here today onbusiness. If it please you, you can wait for him. "

"I thank you, but I will come again later, " answered Cuthbert, whowas by no means enamoured of the place or the company. 

He was surprised that his travelling companion, who appeared a manof refined speech and habits, should frequent such an evil-lookingplace as this. But the habits of the dwellers in cities were as yetstrange to him, and it might be his ignorance, he thought, whichmade it appear suspicious to him. 

"And if he asks who has inquired for him, what shall I say?" askedthe host, whilst the men at the table continued to stare and listenwith every appearance of interest. 

"My name is Trevlyn, " answered Cuthbert shortly, disliking, hehardly knew why, the aspect and ways of the place. 

He fancied that a slight sensation followed this announcement. Certainly the landlord bowed lower than there was occasion for ashe held open the door for his visitor to pass out. Cuthbert waspuzzled, and a little annoyed. He was half inclined not to go thereagain; but curiosity got the better of his resolve as the afternoonhours drew on. After all, what did it matter what manner of manthis was, since he need never see him again after today? It wouldbe foolish not to reclaim his money, and might lead Master RobertCatesby to inquire for him at his uncle's house, and that he didnot wish. The thing had better be done, and be done quickly. Howfoolish it would be to go back to Cherry and say he had notaccomplished his errand because some odd-looking men had stared athim, and because the tavern was ill smelling and dirty!

It was three o'clock, however, before the youth again entered theunsavoury abode. As December had already come, the days wereapproaching their shortest limit; and as heavy clouds hung in thesky, the streets already began to look dark. Within the ill-lightedtavern the obscurity was still greater. Cuthbert pushed his waythrough the door, and found himself amongst the afternoon drinkers, who were making the room ring with ribald songs and loud laughter. But the host quickly singled him out, and approached with an air ofdeference. 

"The gentleman you asked for is upstairs. He directed that youshould be sent to him on your arrival. I am too busy to go up thestairs with you, but you cannot miss the way. He is in the roomupon the first floor; the first door to the right hand will leadyou to him. He has one or two gentlemen with him, but he will beglad to see you, too. "

Cuthbert was glad to get out of the noisy room below, and, shuttingthe door behind him, mounted the dark stairs. He opened the firstdoor to the right, after knocking once or twice in vain, and foundhimself in a very small apartment, very ill lighted by a tinywindow, and altogether empty. 

He looked round in surprise. Dim as was the twilight, he could notbe mistaken in the emptiness of the room. He wondered if the manhad misled him purposely, and a little vague uneasiness stole overhim. The noises from below had hitherto drowned any other sound;but as for some cause unknown to himself these suddenly andentirely ceased for the space of some half minute, he became awareof voices close at hand; and almost before he realized hisposition, he had caught several quickly and eagerly spokensentences. 

"They show no mercy; let no mercy be shown to them!" said onevoice, in low, menacing accents. "Six saintly priests have died incruel agonies by the bloody hangman's hands but a few weeks past;and look ye, what has been the fate of that godly, courageous oldman of Lancashire who has dared to raise his voice in reprobationof these barbarities? Fined, imprisoned, despoiled of all; and allbut condemned to be nailed to the pillory, that his ears might besliced off! Even that fate was all but inflicted by yon infamousStar Chamber, who respect neither virtue nor gray hairs, so theymay fill the King's coffers and destroy all godliness in the land!It was but by two votes he escaped that last anguish anddegradation. How say ye, friends? Can any scheme be too desperateif it rids us of such tyrants and rulers at one blow?"

An eager murmur arose at that--assent, indignation, wrath--andagain the same voice spoke in the same low, eager tones:

"And the way is open; the house is ours. But a few feet of masonryto tunnel through, and the thing is done. Shall we shrink? shall wehesitate? I trow not. Strong arms, silent tongues, a highcourage--that is all we want. "

"And a few more strong arms to help us at the work, for it will bea labour of Hercules to get it done. "

At that moment the noise from below burst out anew, and Cuthbertheard no more of this mysterious colloquy. He had not time to thinkover the meaning of the words he had heard, or indeed to attach anyparticular significance to them. He was always hearing fiercethreats bandied about between ardent partisans of Romanist andPuritan, and was beginning to pay small heed to such matters. Hedid not realize now that he had surprised any conspirators at theirwork. He knocked boldly at the door of the room, to which the placewhere he stood was plainly the antechamber, and a loud voice bidhim enter. 

There was no light in the apartment, save that which filtered inthrough the dirty window, and it was plain that the meeting, whatever its nature, was breaking up. Several men were standingabout in their cloaks and hats, the latter slouched down upon theirbrows, so that their faces could not be distinguished in the gloom. Two or three passed Cuthbert hastily as he entered, before he hadtime even to see if one of them was the companion of his journey;but though he found some trouble in distinguishing features, hisown were visible enough as he stood facing the window, and out ofthe shadows stepped a tall man, who greeted him with extended hand. 

"Good e'en to you, Cuthbert Trevlyn, and a fair welcome to Londontown! I trust you have not been in dangers and difficulties, andthat you but now come to claim your own again? How fared it withyou on the heath that night? Were you in any wise maltreated orrough handled by the gentlemen of the road?"

"Nay; I was rather treated to a good supper and a night's lodging, and not so much as deprived of my steed. I trow had he shownsomething more of mettle I might not have so preserved him; but oneor two of them who mounted him pronounced him of no use even as apack horse. "

Catesby laughed pleasantly, and putting his hand into his doubletdrew forth the purse intrusted to him, and placed it in Cuthbert'shands. 

"They would not have been so obliging, I fear, had you chanced tohave this upon your person. Take it, boy, and look within and seethat all is safe. I have not parted with it since the night of ourjourney. I trow you will find your treasure as it left your hand. "

"I am sure of it, " answered Cuthbert gratefully; "and I return youmany thanks for your goodwill and sound counsel in the matter. Butfor your good offices I should have lost all. I trust you yourselfescaped without misadventure?"

Cuthbert was now anxious to be gone. His errand was accomplished. The atmosphere of this place was offensive to him, and he wasuneasy without well knowing why. His companion seemed to divinethis; and the room being now cleared of all other guests, he puthis hat on his head and said, "We will go out into the fresh air. The Cat and Fiddle is better as a resort by day than by night. Iwould fain know something of your whereabouts and fortunes, boy. Ihave taken a liking for you, and the name of Trevlyn soundspleasantly in mine ears. "

The old sense of fascination began to fall upon Cuthbert, asCatesby, taking him familiarly by the arm, led him out into thestreet, and walked along with him in the direction of his home, drawing him out by questions, and throwing in bits of anecdote, jest, and apt remark, that made his conversation a pleasure and aneducation. Cuthbert forgot his anxieties and vague suspicions inhis enjoyment of the conversation of an accomplished man of theworld; and there was a subtle flattery in the sense that this man, scholar and gentleman as he was, had condescended to a liking forand an interest in his insignificant self, and was of his ownaccord inviting confidence and friendship. 

"I once had a young brother; thou something favourest him, " was theonly explanation he gave of the sudden fancy formed when Cuthbertspoke gratefully of his kindness. "I am growing out of youthmyself, but I like the companionship of youth when I can get it. Iwould fain see more of thee, boy, an thou art thine own master, andcan come and visit me at the place I may appoint. "

Cuthbert was pleased and flattered, and said he should be proud tocome, but hoped it would not be at the tavern, as his unclemisliked such places of entertainment. 

"It is an ill-smelling spot; I mislike it myself, " answeredCatesby. "Nay, we can do better than that now. There is a house atLambeth where I often frequent with my friends. It is somethinglonely; but thou art a brave lad, and wilt not fear that. "

He turned and looked Cuthbert keenly over as he spoke, and heaved ashort sigh. 

"Thou art marvellous like the brother I lost, " he said. "I wouldthat I might have thee for my servant; but thou art too gently bornfor that, I trow. "

Cuthbert had well-nigh promised lifelong service on the spot, sopeculiar was the influence and fascination exercised upon him bythis man; but he remembered his uncle and his duty to him, andpulled himself up as he replied soberly:

"I am poor enow--poorer than many a servant--having naught but whatis given me by others. But I have mine uncle's will to do. I maytake no step without asking counsel of him. "

"Ay, verily; and this secret of our friendship thou must hide fromhim. Thou knowest that I am of the forbidden faith, and my presencein London must be hid. I may trust thee thus far with my secret?Thou wilt not reveal my name to others?"

"Never, since thou hast told me not. "

"Good lad; I knew thou mightest be trusted. And thou wilt come tosee me as I shall ask?"

"If I can make shift to do so I will very willingly. "

"I shall remind thee of thy promise. And now, farewell. I havebusiness in another quarter. We shall meet again anon. "

Chapter 8: Cuthbert And Cherry Go Visiting. 

All this while Kate's letter to her cousin Lord Culverhouse hadlain stowed away in the safe leathern pocket of Cuthbert's ridingdress, into which her deft white hands had sewed it for safety, andhe had made no attempt to deliver it to its owner, nor to seewhether the young Viscount would have will or power to further hisown success in life. 

The reason for this delay was no lack of goodwill on the part ofthe youth, but was simply due to the fact that Lord Andover and hisfamily were not in London at this season, but were in their familyplace in Hampshire, and not expected to reach London much beforethe Christmas season. 

This much Cuthbert had discovered early on in his stay in town; forKate had described to him the situation of her uncle's house in theStrand, and he had made inquiry at the porter's lodge the veryfirst time he had passed by. But hearing this, and not wishing toentrust the letter into any hands but those of Lord Culverhousehimself, he had gone away again, and the excitements of the newlife had speedily driven the thought of Kate's commission out ofhis mind. 

But now the merry Christmas season was close at hand. MistressSusan was thrice as busy and as sharp tongued as usual, gettingforward her preparations for that time of jollity and good cheer, and making the bridge house fairly reek with the mixed flavours ofher numerous concoctions and savoury dishes. 

Martin Holt's Puritanism, which would prevent his countenancinganything like drunkenness, revelling, or the gross sports andamusements which still held full sway over the people at festiveseasons, did not withhold him from keeping a well-spread table atwhich to ask his friends to sit, still less from sending out to hispoorer neighbours portions of the good cheer which has alwaysseemed appropriate to the Christmas season. So he raised no protestagainst the lavish expenditure in meats and spices, rose water, ambergris, sugar and herbs, nor complained that his sister anddaughters seemed transformed for the nonce into scullions, and hadscarce time to sit down to take a meal in peace, for fear that somemishap occurred to one of the many stew pans crowding each otherupon the stove. 

He was used to it, and it appeared the inevitable preliminary toYuletide; though Cuthbert looked on in amaze, and marvelled how anyhousehold could consume the quantities of victuals underpreparation, be their hospitality and generosity what it might. 

As he walked abroad in the streets he saw much the same sort ofthing everywhere going on. Cooks and scullions were scouring thestreets and markets for all manner of dainties. Farmers weredriving through the streets flocks of young porkers, squealinglustily and jostling the passers by; and cooks and housewives wouldcome rushing out from the houses to secure a pig and carry it offin triumph; whilst here and there a servant in livery might be seenwith a basket from which a peacock's tail floated, carrying offthis costly prize to adorn the table of some nobleman or wealthymerchant. 

Passing by Lord Andover's house in the Strand on the day before theeve of Christmas, Cuthbert saw, by the stir and bustle andliveliness of the courtyard, that the family had plainly returned. On making inquiry he discovered that his surmise was correct, andhe walked home resolving to lose no more time in delivering hisletter, and wondering if he could contrive to take Cherry with himwhen he paid the visit, to secure for her a sight of the gaystreets and a peep into Lord Andover's big house. The poor childhad been regularly mewed up at home the whole of the past weekhelping her sharp-tongued aunt. It was nothing but fair that sheshould taste a little enjoyment now; and he determined to try toget his uncle's consent before speaking a word to Cherry herself. Susan Holt never opposed her brother, though she often disapprovedof his lenience towards his youngest child, whose love of pleasureshe looked upon as a peril and a snare. 

When Cuthbert made his modest request to take Cherry out on themorrow to see the sights of the streets, and the houses all deckedwith holly, the father smiled an indulgent smile and gave a readyassent. If Cuthbert would be careful where he took her, and not lether be witness of any of the vile pastimes of cock fighting, bullor bear baiting, or the hearer of scurrilous or blasphemouslanguage, he might have her companionship and welcome; and it woulddoubtless amuse her to go into Lord Andover's kitchen, wheremessengers generally waited who had brought notes or messages formembers of the family, being treated to cups of sack and otherhospitality; and as he was a good man, his household would be wellordered, and the maid would be treated with due civility andrespect. 

"The child is kept something strait by her good aunt, " said Martin, a smile hovering round the corner of his lips. "We are not all cutto the same pattern, and Cherry takes not as kindly to the gravityof life as did her sisters. A little change will do her no harm. Itboots not too far to resist the promptings of nature. "

How Cherry's eyes laughed and sparkled, and how her pretty faceflushed and dimpled when Cuthbert whispered to her of the pleasurein store for her. She had been looking a little harassed and wearyafter her long seclusion from the fresh air, striving to pleaseAunt Susan, who never would be pleased; but this made amends forall. Worthy Susan sniffed and snorted when Martin told her to givethe child a holiday on the morrow; but as all her preparations werewell-nigh complete, she did not really want the girl, and contentedherself with hoping that her indulgent father would not live to ruethe day when he thought fit to indulge her wanton love forunhallowed sights and amusements. 

Martin did not reply. Perhaps he felt that his sister was moreconsistent and stanch to the Puritan principles than he was himselfin this matter; but he did not rescind his decision. And after asurreptitious meal behind the pantry door together on the morrow, whilst Mistress Susan was engaged upstairs over the weighty matterof the linen to adorn the festal board that evening and onChristmas Day itself, the pair stole quietly off about eleveno'clock, leaving word with Martin in passing out that they would beback before dark. 

Cherry danced along as though she had wings to her feet, as theyquitted the bridge and plunged into the narrow but bustling andbusy streets. She had always been kept rigorously at home on alloccasions of public rejoicing and merriment, and it was a perfectdelight to her to see the holiday look about the passers by, andexchange friendly good wishes with such acquaintances as she met bythe way. She had put on her best gown, and a little ruff round herneck: her aunt would not let her wear such "gewgaws" in a generalway, but the girl loved to fabricate them out of odds and ends, inimitation of the ladies she saw passing in the street. She wore thegray cloak and hood she had had on when first Cuthbert had come toher assistance by the river, and her rosy laughing face peepedroguishly out from the warm and becoming head gear. But suddenly, as they were passing a house in East Cheape, she paused and glancedup at Cuthbert with a bewitching little look of pleading. 

"Wait but here for me a little five minutes, " she said; "I have anerrand to my cousin Rachel. "

She was gone in a moment, slipping through the open door andleaving Cuthbert outside in the street. He knew the house for heruncle Dyson's, and was in no way alarmed about her. Nor was shelong in rejoining him again. But when she came out, laughing, blushing, and dimpling, he scarce knew her for the moment, sotransformed was she; and he stood perfectly mute before the radiantyoung vision his eyes encountered. 

The sober black under-petticoat had been replaced by one of vividscarlet taffeta, quilted with elaboration, and further adorned withembroidery in white silk. The gray upper robe was the same asbefore, the soft stuff and quiet tone harmonizing and contrastingwell with the bright hue of the petticoat. The little feet wereencased in the daintiest of strong buckled shoes, and in scarlethose to match the quilted skirt; whilst the cloak and hood were nowof soft white lamb's-wool cloth, such as Abraham Dyson made aspecialty of in his business; and the vivid delicate colour uponthe girl's laughing face as it peeped out of the snowy hood was setoff to the greatest possible advantage by the pure white frame, sosuited to the child's infantile style of beauty. 

"Why, Cherry, I scarce know thee!" cried Cuthbert, amazed. 

"I scarce know myself, " answered the laughing girl, blushing anddimpling with mischievous pleasure; "and I trust none else willknow me neither if we meet more friends by the way. I will pull myhood well over my face, for I would not have this frolic reach AuntSusan's ears. She would make a mighty coil anent it. But oh, I haveso longed for pretty things such as Rachel wears Why is it wrong tolove bright colours and soft fabrics? I will not believe it is. When I am grown to woman's estate, and have a home of my own toregulate, I will wear what I choose and what becomes me best. It isfolly to think God loves not beauty and brightness. Has He not madethe sky blue, the trees green, the flowers of every hue of therainbow? Does He not paint the sky with brilliant hues? Why is manalone of his creatures to be dull and sad?"

"Nay, I know not; I am unlearned in these questions. But how gotyou these fine clothes? Did Mistress Rachel lend them?"

"Rachel has always longed to give this petticoat to me. She isweary of it, and it is something too short for her; but I knew Imight never wear it, and that Aunt Susan would chide me roundly forbringing such a thing home. So Rachel said she would lay it by forme when her new robe came home at Christmastide. Then she whisperedto me last week that her father had a present for me--a cloak andhood that he thought my father would let me wear, albeit Aunt Susanmight ill like it. So passing the house today, methought I mightslip in and ask Rachel if I might wear the new cloak and hood toLord Andover's; and forthwith she had me up to her room and intothis scarlet petticoat in a twinkling, and mine uncle brought thewhite cloak and hood himself and fastened it on me, and Jacob camewith the shoes and said he had had them made strong for the muddystreets, but smart with the buckles on the top. And here I be thehappiest girl in all London town! Nay, Cuthbert, but I feel as ifmy feet could dance of themselves all the way!"

Her happiness was infectious. Cuthbert felt more like alight-hearted boy than ever he had done in his life before. Hislively little companion, clinging to his arm and chattering like amagpie, effectually drove away all grave thoughts. The sun shonebrightly in the steely-blue sky; the frost had made the streetsabsolutely clean and dry. Walking, even in the most trodden places, was easy and pleasant, and everybody seemed in excellent goodhumour. 

Many admiring glances were levelled at the pair as they passedalong--the charming blushing damsel in the white hood, and thedistinguished-looking youth with the grave dark face. Cuthbertgratified the little girl's curiosity by taking her up and downPaul's Walk as they passed through St. Paul's Churchyard, and bythe time they gained Fleet Street and Temple Bar she had reachedthe limit of her farthest walk westward. 

They spent several minutes before the clock of St. Dunstan's in theWest, and watched the bronze figures striking on their bells as thehour of midday sounded forth from many steeples. Then Cherry mustneeds go down to the river banks between the gentlemen's gardensand see how the river looked from here. She was a little awed bythe grandeur of the houses all along the Strand, and wonderedmightily what it could feel like to be one of the fine Court dameswho drove in and out of the great gates in gilded coaches, orambled forth upon snow-white palfreys, attended by lackeys afootand on horseback. 

Another hour had passed in delighted watching of the street sightsand the fine folks who dwelt in these parts, before Cuthbert ledher under the archway of the great courtyard, and told her thatthis was Lord Andover's house. It was one of the finest in theStrand, and it was plain that some gay festivity was in foot or inpreparation; for there was such a to-ing and fro-ing of servingmen, lackeys and scullions, such a clatter of voices, such an airof hurry and jollity on every face, that Cherry could have lookedand listened for ever, but that Cuthbert hurried her through thecrowd towards a big door opening into the courtyard, and whisperedin her ear:

"They all be too busy to heed me here. Come to the house, and seewhat hap we have there. I may deliver this letter to none othersave Lord Culverhouse himself. "

The great door which stood wide open proved to be that of thekitchen--a vast hall in itself, along the farther side of whichwere no less than six huge fireplaces. Cooks and scullions stood ateach of these, shouting out orders and moving to and fro; while aperfect crowd of menials and servants, messengers and idlers, stoodor sat about, chatting, laughing, and even gaming in corners. Hugetankards of ale, hot and strongly spiced, stood upon the table, andevery one who passed by appeared permitted to help himself at will. 

Busy and noisy as this place was, an air of good fellowship andgood humour pervaded it which was reassuring and pleasant; andbefore the cousins had stood many minutes in their corner, aserving man came up and asked them civilly enough of theirbusiness. Cuthbert replied that he had a letter which he had beencharged to give into Lord Culverhouse's own hands; and hearingthat, the servant gave a keen look at the pair, and apparentlysatisfied with his inspection, bid them follow him. 

He took them up a wide staircase, and brought them out into anotherlarge hall, where servants of a different class were gatheredtogether--the liveried footmen and pages and lackeys, and somewaiting women, very grandly attired, who speedily beckoned Cherryamongst them, and began making much of her, rather as though shewere a little child, feeding her with comfits and cakes and spicedwine, examining her soft white cloak, and asking a host ofquestions as to where she got it, who was the maker, and if heruncle sold his wares to the public. 

Cherry had pretty, dainty little ways of her own, and was not inthe least shy where she felt herself liked. She did not even missCuthbert when he was summoned away, so happy was she to be talkedto by these fine waiting women, who were kind and comfortable soulsenough. She learned on her side that there was to be a play givenin half-an-hour's time within the house itself, and that all theserving men and women were permitted to witness it. She was pressedto stay and see it herself, and her eyes beamed with delight at thebare thought. To see a play had always been the very height of heryouthful ambition, and had not father said that she could get nohurt at Lord Andover's house?

Presently Cuthbert came back, his face aglow with pleasure. 

"Cherry, " said he, "I have seen Lord Culverhouse, and methinksKate's letter was like a talisman; for after reading it he bid mewelcome as though I were in some sort a kinsman, and said that Imust stay and see the mask that is to be played here in a shortwhile, and remain as a guest at the feast which will follow, wherethe boar's head is to be brought in, and all sorts of revelry areto be held. I told him I could not stay till dark, for that we hadpromised to be home ere that; but that I would gladly see the playacting an I might. And then I told him of thee, and he bid me gofetch thee. My cousin, said he, must i' faith be in some sort hiscousin, since Kate, who was his cousin, also spoke of me as one. Itold him nay, but that thou wert cousin only on my mother's side;but he laughed, and would not listen, and bid me fetch thee, thathe might place thee well to see the mummery. So come with me, faircousin, for we must not keep him waiting. "

Cherry's cheeks were dyed with bewitching blushes, and her big grayeyes were shining like stars, as she followed her cousin, accompanied by a little murmur of congratulation from the waitingwomen, who had all fallen in love with the charming child. Shelooked a perfect picture as she stood before Lord Culverhouse inher scarlet petticoat and snow-white hood, making her pretty quaintreverence to him, hardly daring to raise her eyes, but quite lostin the glamour of the honour done to her in being thus noticed by areal lord and good humouredly dubbed a cousin. 

And then her hand was actually taken by this handsome and elegantyoung gallant, and she felt herself being conducted through roomsthe magnificence of which she could not take in in her timid, hastyglances. She had almost begun to think it all a dream from whichshe must soon awaken, when she heard her companion say in his sweetvoice:

"Mother mine, have you room beneath your ample wing for a littlecity guest--a cousin of Cuthbert Trevlyn, who has brought me a mostwelcome missive from my dear cousin Kate?"

And then Cherry looked up with a pretty, frightened, trustingglance, to find herself being examined and smiled at by quite abevy of wonderfully-dressed ladies, who after one good look beganto laugh in a very reassuring and kindly way, and made room intheir midst for the little city maiden with that ease of true goodbreeding which has ever been the truest test of the blue blood ofthe English aristocracy. She looked such a child, in her prettyconfusion and bashfulness, that not one of them resented herpresence amongst them. Courtesy and kindliness had always been LadyAndover's salient characteristics, and there was a nativerefinement and quaint simplicity about Cherry that would have gonefar to disarm severer critics than the present company round LadyAndover. 

"Come, my pretty child, " she said; "thou shalt sit beside me, andtell me all about thyself. The name of Trevlyn is well known andwell loved in this house. Thou comest under good auspices. "

And so Cherry again found herself the plaything and pet of a groupof good-humoured people, though this time they were fine ladies indresses that fairly took away her breath, as she ventured to studythem with eager, furtive glances. She answered all their questionswith pretty, candid frankness; told of her adventure in the osierbeds, and of Cuthbert's timely rescue; told of her life under herfather's roof, and her simple daily duties and pleasures. And thegrand ladies listened and laughed, and made much of her; and hersoft white hood was removed and admired, and passed round almost asit had been amongst the waiting women. Cherry felt quite bashful atsitting amongst those fine ladies with no cover for her head buther own curls; but she noted that the younger ladies present had noadornment beside that, unless it were a bow of ribbon or a fewsparkling pins: so she took courage, and her hot cheeks burned lessbrightly, though she could not help her eyes sparkling and dancingbeneath their long lashes as she wondered what in the world heraunt Susan would say could she see her for a moment in her presentsurroundings. 

And then the play began, and Cherry sat entranced from the momentthe curtain rose till it fell again. She had never seen anything ofthe sort before, and was perfectly captivated and carried away, living in the glamour of absolute enchantment, and amusing herfashionable companions almost as much by her artless admiration andenthusiasm as the players did by their mummery and stage tricks. 

But time was flying all too fast, and almost as soon as the curtainfell for the last time, Cuthbert came up and carried her away, LordCulverhouse walking with them once more through the long rooms, andinsisting on their partaking of some spiced wine and game pastybefore going out into the cold air again. 

What with the fumes of the wine, the extraordinary grandeur of thehouse, and the wonderful nature of the adventure altogether, Cherryhardly knew whether or not she any longer trod on solid ground asshe pursued her way along the streets clinging tight to Cuthbert'sarm. It was growing dusk now, and Cuthbert was anxious to get hischarge home before the early darkness should have fallen upon thecity. They hardly spoke as they wended their way. Cherry gave alittle gasp from time to time indicative of her unbounded delight, whilst Cuthbert was thinking pleasantly of the kind and cordialreception he had met with from Lord Culverhouse. 

Both felt more or less in dreamland till they reached AbrahamDyson's house, where Cherry ran indoors again to rid herself of herfinery. 

When she emerged once more into the familiar streets of the city, her cheeks had lost a little of their bloom, her eyes some of theirstar-like brightness; and heaving a great sigh as she tookCuthbert's arm, she said:

"Ah me! it is a hard fate to be a city maid and a Puritan'sdaughter. I shall never see such lovely sights again! And oh, howhappy I should be if only I could be a lady, and live whereeverything is soft and beautiful and gentle! Oh how I shall dreamof it all now! But it will never be anything but a dream!" and agreat tear like a diamond sparkled on the thick lashes and rolleddown the girl's soft cheek. 

Cuthbert had been thinking hard as he stood there in the gatheringdarkness. He was rather taken out of himself, which was perhaps thereason he forgot all prudence and reserve. Bending suddenly overCherry, he kissed away the tears on her cheeks, and said in low, passionate tones:

"Nay, sweet Cherry, weep not for that. I will make thee yet a lady, whom none shall dare flout. I have loved thee, sweet cousin, fromthe day I found thee by the river in hapless plight. And when Ihave found the lost treasure of Trevlyn, and have brought luck andfortune to each one that bears the old name, then will I come andwed thee, sweet coz; and thou wilt be a Trevlyn then, and noneshall dare to scorn thee for thy good father's honest name. Myfather did wed a Holt, and his son shall do the same. Tell me, Cherry, dost thou love me well enough to be my little wife one day?for by the mass I will have none other; and if thou lovest me not Iwill go unwed all the days of my life!"

Cherry turned hot and cold, flushed scarlet, and then grew pale asthis speech proceeded, till at the last words the red came back ina flood, and hiding her face on Cuthbert's shoulder, she sobbedout:

"Oh, how could I love anybody else? O Cuthbert, how happy thou hastmade me! Art sure thou speakest sooth?"

"Sooth! ay, that I do. Thou art the sweetest maid the sun e'erlooked on. Thou wert the fairest of all that gay company at my LordAndover's, and many beside myself said as much. Cherry, thou shaltone day be my own true wife; and if kind fortune do but favour me, thou shalt have gold and jewels and fine robes enow, and shalt holdup thy head with the best of them: see if it be not so!"

A boy and girl wooing certainly, but none the less hearty for that. The love had been growing silently for many weeks, the young folksscarcely knowing what they were learning to be to each other. Andnow these sudden burning words had revealed all, and Cherry feltmore than ever that she trod on air and moved in a dream; only thistime there was the pleasant sense that the dream would not vanishaway in smoke, but would become more and more a living reality. 

But there was something Cuthbert had said which yet requiredexplanation, and presently she looked up and asked:

"What didst thou mean when thou spokest of a lost treasure? What isit, and who has lost it?"

And then Cuthbert forthwith plunged into the story of the losttreasure of Trevlyn, as he had heard it from his cousin Kate; andCherry listened with parted lips, thinking that it was almost likeliving in some play to be hearing this strange tale. 

When she heard of the gipsies and their vengeful words, she stoppedsuddenly short and gazed intently at Cuthbert. 

"This is the second time thou hast spoken of gipsies, " she said, ina whisper. "Thou hast yet to tell me the tale of how thou didstspend a night in the gipsies' cave. Cuthbert, were those gipsiesthou didst light upon that night of thy flight the same as havestolen the treasure from Trevlyn?"

"Cherry, I trow that they are, " he answered, in a very low voice, bending his head closer over her as he spoke. "Listen, and I willtell thee all. There was an old fierce woman, with hair as white asdriven snow, among them, who, when she heard the name of Trevlyn, launched at me a glance of hatred that I never can forget; and Iknew well by her looks and her words that, had she had her will, Ishould have suffered the same fate that her mother had done fromthe hands of my grandfather. I knew not then that it was her motherwho had been burnt by him as a witch; but I saw the evil purposedme, and knew she was my foe. But a stately woman--the old gipsy'sdaughter, as I later learned--interposed on my behalf, and her allobeyed as queen, even her mother bowing down before her. Sheprotected me, and bid me sit at table with them, saw me served withthe best, and at night showed me herself to a ruinous bed chamberwhere, however, a weary man might comfortably lodge. There she leftme, but bid me not to undress; and presently after I had slept, Iknow not how many hours, I was awakened by her entrance with a dimlight, and she bid me rise but speak low, as she had somewhat ofmoment to say to me. She asked me then of myself and my kindred;and I asked her many things, and to my questions she gave readyresponse. Last of all, I dared to name the lost treasure, and I sawa new look come upon her face. I said that I had heard enough tomake me think it had been stolen and hidden in the forest, and Iasked her if in her wanderings there she had heard aught of it. Isaw that the question moved her. I saw her flashing glance rest onme again and again, and her lips tremble as though she fain wouldspeak, and yet was half afraid to do so. Every moment I suspectedmore and more that she knew somewhat; but whether or no she wouldreveal this I dared not guess. At the last the eager light died outof her eyes. She answered that she had heard somewhat of the story, but that she herself knew naught. The treasure had been lost manyyears before she had first seen the light, and men had long ceasedto look for it, albeit there were many traditions that it would oneday be found. As to that she knew naught; but she promised me thisthing, that she would ask and strive to learn if any in the forestknew more than she. And she bid me meet her at a certain cave inthe heart of the forest upon May Day next, when she said she wouldspeak with me again anent this same matter. "

Cherry's lips were parted, her eyes were full of wonder andcuriosity. She shivered with excitement and surprise. 

"Thinkest thou that she knows the place?"

"That I know not, but I trow well that she knows more than she saidthen, and that I shall learn more when I seek her again, and we arenot in a walled place where eavesdroppers may lurk with itchingears. "

"Then thou wilt keep the tryst?"

"Assuredly I will. "

"And thou art not afraid that harm will befall thee? Oh beware, Cuthbert, of that wicked, fierce old woman!"

"Oh, I fear her not. Their queen has bidden me. They dare not defyher. I shall go to the forest and keep the tryst. I trow there bemuch yet for me to know. "

Cherry hesitated and trembled, and hesitated again, and finallysaid in a low whisper:

"Cuthbert, it may be that there is a speedier and a safer way ofdiscovering what thou wouldst know. "

"And what way is that, sweet coz?"

Again came the little pause of hesitation, and then Cherry said:

"We might consult the wise woman. 

"The wise woman! and who is she?"

"There be many of them, " answered Cherry, still speaking in a verylow and rapid whisper. "But breathe not a word at home, for fathersays they be surely in league with the devil, if they be notimpostors who deserve whipping at the cart's tail. But Rachel wentto one three years back, and the dame told her a husband would comewooing within three short months, and told the colour of his hairand his eyes. And sure enough it all came true, and now she isquickly to be wed. And others have done the like, and the thingshave all come true. And she is not a wicked woman neither, for shecures agues and fevers, and the leeches themselves ask her simplesof her. There may be wicked women plying this trade too; I know nothow that may be. But this dame is not wicked; Rachel goes to herstill, and she has never deceived her yet. But she liveth verysecretly now, as a wise woman must needs to in these times; for theKing, they say, is very wroth against all such, and in the countrymen are going about from him and burning all who practise sucharts, and otherwise cruelly maltreating them. So no man speaksopenly of them now, though they still ply their trade in secret. "

"Hast thou ever been to one thyself, Cherry?"

Her face was all in a glow. She clung closer to Cuthbert's arm. 

"Chide me not, and tell not my father; but I went with Rachel once, when she went to have a wart charmed that was causing her muchvexation. I asked nothing of the dame myself; but she took my handand looked into my eyes, and she nodded her head and chuckled andmade strange marks upon a bit of paper, which she said was castingmy horoscope. And then she told me that I had an ugly lover that Iloved not, but that another more gently born should come in time, and that we should love each other well and be faithful throughall, and that I should end by being a lady with all I wanted atcommand. "

And there Cherry stopped, blushing and palpitating with happinessand shy joy; whilst Cuthbert, struck by this very remarkable andoriginal specimen of fortune telling, began to think he might doworse than consult this same wise woman who had gauged hissweetheart's case so fairly. 

He himself had no scruples. He had a strong belief in necromancy, and had never heard that there was sin in its practice. He wasstill Romanist enough at heart to look upon the confessional as aneasy and pleasant way of getting rid of the burden of an uneasyconscience. His mind was very open to conviction and impression inreligious matters. He was no bigot, but he had a constitutionallyinherited tendency towards the old faith that was possibly strongerthan he knew. Had he seen his father's party in power, persecutingand coercing, he would have had scant sympathy or love for them andtheir ways; but as the contrary was now the case, and he saw themdowntrodden and abused, he felt considerable drawings towards them, and these drawings were not the less strong from the intercourse hewas enjoying almost daily with Anthony Cole and his son Walter. 

Cuthbert's love of learning and eager wish to improve hisscholarship drew him almost daily to the dark little shop in thebridge, wedged in, as it were, between two larger and more imposingstructures, where the father and son plied a modest trade and livedsomewhat hazardously; for they did not hesitate to circulatepamphlets and leaflets the sale of which had been forbidden, andwhich might at any time get them into serious trouble with theauthorities, and lead to imprisonment, if not to death. 

But to return to the pair now closely approaching their home, andlagging somewhat in their walk to prolong the talk for a fewminutes. Cherry was in a fever of curiosity and impatience, andlonged to hear her lover speak the word. 

"It is so long to wait till May Day; and I trow that she could tellus all. Say, Cuthbert, shall we go to her?"

It was sweet to Cuthbert to hear the little word "we" dropping sonaturally from Cherry's lips. He pressed the hand that lay upon hisarm, and looked down into the upraised eager face. 

"Wilt thou go with me an I go?"

"To be sure I will. I should love to be thy companion. "

"And brave thy father's wrath should he find out?"

Cherry clung yet closer to his arm. 

"I fear nothing when thou art beside me, Cuthbert. I would go withthee to death. "

He stooped and kissed her eagerly, passionately. 

"Then thy sweet will shall be law, " he answered, "and I will go assoon as thou canst make shift to take me. "

Cherry uttered a little cry of delight. 

"Ah, how pleased I am--how pleased I am! We will go this very week, so soon as the Yuletide stir be past. O Cuthbert, Cuthbert, what awondrous day this has been! Methinks it must surely be a dream. Butthou art no dream; thou art real and true. So long as thou art nearme and with me, I shall know that it is all true. "

Chapter 9: The Wise Woman. 

"Cuthbert! alas, Cuthbert!"

"Why, how now? What ails thee, Cherry?"

"Cuthbert, my father hath been speaking with me. "

"Well, and wherefore not? Thy father is no stern tyrant like mine, sweet coz. "

Cherry was panting with excitement and what appeared like terror. She clung fast to Cuthbert's arm, and her eyes were dilated withfear. She was an excitable little mortal, so he did not feel anygreat alarm at her looks, but strove to reassure her in a friendly, brotherly fashion. The Christmas festivities and excitements, whichhad lasted above a week, had doubtless done something to upset thebalance of her mind. She had been so extravagantly and overwhelminglyhappy with the remembrance of her adventure at Lord Andover's house, and her knowledge of the secret between herself and Cuthbert, thatthe young man had felt half afraid lest she should contrive to betrayit to others by her blushes, her bright, fitful glances, and hernewborn softness in his presence, which gave a sweeter quality to herchildish charms. He himself did not wish Martin Holt to be aware thatanything had passed between him and Cherry till he could come boldlyforward and ask her at her father's hands, having the wherewithalto support her. He had been surprised into an admission of youthfuldevotion, and he by no means wished the words unsaid; for the secretunderstanding now existing betwixt himself and Cherry was the sweetestelement in his daily life, and he was more and more in love every daywith his charming cousin. But he knew that until he could come with hisshare of the Trevlyn treasure in his hands, he could scarce hope orlook for a patient hearing from the shrewd man of business. And thoughhe himself was increasingly confident that the treasure had been hiddenout of spite, and not really made away with, and that some day it wouldbe found, he knew that this opinion would be regarded by the world atlarge as a chimera of ardent youth, and that Martin Holt for one wouldbid him lay aside all such vain and idle dreams, and strive by steadyperseverance in business to win for himself a modest independence. Onlyto the young, the ardent, the lovers of imaginative romance, had thenotion of hidden treasure any charm. 

And here was Cherry crying, palpitating, trembling in his arms asthough some great trouble menaced them. 

"What ails thee, sweetheart?" he asked, with playful tenderness;and Cherry choked back her sobs to answer:

"Cuthbert, he has spoken to me of marriage--my father. He has toldme plainly what he purposes for me. He and my uncle Dyson havetalked of it together. I am to wed my cousin Jacob. O Cuthbert, Cuthbert! what must I do? what must I say?"

Cuthbert heard the news in silence. It was not altogetherunexpected, but he had scarce looked to have heard the subjectopenly broached so soon. Cherry had been regarded in her home assuch a child, and her father, sisters, and aunt had so combined tospeak and think of her as such, that although her eighteenthbirthday was hard at hand, and she was certainly of marriageableage, he had not looked to have to face this complication in thesituation quite so quickly. But as he stood holding Cherry in hisarms (for she had come to him in the upper parlour at an hour whenall the household were elsewhere engaged, and there was no fear ofinterruption), a look of stern purpose and resolution passed acrossthe young man's face--an expression which those who knew theTrevlyn family would have recognized as a true Trevlyn look. Hisface seemed to take added years and manliness as that expressioncrossed it; and looking tenderly down at the quivering Cherry, heasked:

"Thinkest thou that he has seen or suspected aught?"

"I know not. He said no word of that, only looked hard at me as bespoke of Jacob. "

"And what saidst thou?"

"Alack! what could I say? I did but tell him I had no thoughts ofsuch a thing. I prayed he would not send me from him. I told him Iwas over young to think of marriage, and besought him to speak ofit no more. And as my tears began to flow I could say no more. "

"And he?"

"He reminded me that many another girl was a wedded wife and motherat my age; and then I turned and said that since Jemima and Kezziewere yet unwed--ay, and Rachel too, for all her rosy cheeks and herdowry--it was hard that I should have to be the one to be turnedfirst out of the nest. And at that I cried the more; and he put hisarm about me, and said he had no thought to grieve me, and did notthink that Jacob would wish me vexed in the matter. And I beggedfor a year's grace; and, after thinking and pondering awhile, heanswered that he had no wish to hurry things on--that I was fullyoung to leave my girlhood behind and be saddled with the cares ofa household. And then it came out that the haste was all UncleDyson's doing. Rachel is to be wed at Easter, and he wants his sonto bring home a wife to nurse Aunt Rebecca and mind his house. Andwhen I heard that I was in a pretty rage; for I cannot abide AuntRebecca, who is as cross as a bear with a sore head, and she cannotabear the sight of me. I know not wherefore I have offended her, but so it is. And I know naught of managing a house, and so AuntSusan will tell them an they ask her. So I dared to stamp my foot, and to tell father I would not wed Jacob to be made his mother'sslave; that I would rather live and die a maid like the good Queenwho has been taken from us. And father, he scarce seemed to knowwhat to say. I know he muttered something about its being a sorepity it was not Jemima or Kezzie that had been chosen. And then hebethought him that it was not right to let a daughter see too muchof his mind, or speak too much of her own; and he bid me begonesomething sternly, declaring he would think the matter over, butthat he looked for dutiful obedience from any child of his, andthat I was not to think I might set up mine own will against hiswhatever his decision might be in the end. "

Cherry's tempest of tears was by this time ended, and she spokecollectedly enough, raising her eyes now and then to the grave faceof her lover to mark the effect of her words upon him. Cuthbert'sface was grave but not unhopeful, and taking Cherry's hand firmlyin his as she ended her tale, he said:

"If he will but put the matter off for a year, all will be well. Ifthe treasure is to be found at all, I shall have found it by then. Let these dark winter days but change to the long soft ones ofspring, and I go forth into the forest upon my quest. When I returnladen with my share of the spoil, I trow I shall be able to win andwed my Cherry, be there never so many Jacobs in the field beforeme!"

Cherry laughed a soft little laugh, and her fears and tremblingsceased for the time being. Looking fondly up into Cuthbert's face, she said:

"And why wait till the spring to begin? Hast forgotten what wespoke of not long since? The wise woman--let us go to her! Thouhast money, and I trow she will be able to tell thee somewhat ofthe treasure. Men say that she hath a marvellous gift. "

Waiting was slow work, and Cuthbert was by no means averse totesting the skill of the old sorceress. He had a certain amount offaith in the divinations of magic, and at least it could do no harmto see what the beldam would say. He would but have to risk a goldor silver piece, and it would satisfy Cherry that he was notloitering and half hearted. 

"I will go gladly an thou canst come with me. But when shall it be?I have heard that these witches and diviners only exercise theirskill at night, and how couldst thou be abroad with me then? Therewould be a pretty coil if it were discovered that we were notwithin doors. "

But Cherry was full of invention, and had all a woman's wit andreadiness of resource. She was a true daughter of Eve, this littlerosy-cheeked maiden; and when her heart was set on a thing, she, could generally find the means to carry it out. 

"Listen!" she said, after pausing a few moments to think the thingout. "Any time after dark will do for the wise woman. It mattersnot for it to be late in the night, so long as the sun be down andthe world wrapped in gloom. That happens early enow in these winterdays. Now do thou listen and heed me, Cuthbert. Thou hast heard ofgood Master Harlow, hast thou not?"

"Ay, verily! I have heard of little else these many days!" answeredCuthbert, with a touch of impatience in his voice. "I am well nighweary of the sound of his name. He is a notable Puritan preacher, is he not?"

"Ay, verily, most notable and most wearisome!" answered Cherry, with a delightful little grimace. "Thou speakest of being weary ofthe sound of his name. Thou wouldst be tenfold more weary of thesound of his voice didst thou but attend one of his preachings. Ihave known him discourse for four hours at a time--all men hangingon his words as if they were those of God Himself, and only poorlittle me well nigh dead from weariness and hunger"

"I marvel not at that, " answered Cuthbert. "Four hours would taxthe patience of the most ardent disciple. "

"Nay, but thou little knowest. There be those amongst my father'ssect who call it all too short, who would listen, I verily believe, till they dropped from their benches with starvation. But howeverthat may be, this Master Harlow is one of the hunted martyrs of thecause, and he is not allowed to exercise his gifts save by stealth;and the preaching, of which thou hast heard these many whispers, isto be held by night, and in some obscure cellar underground, wherethey who go will be safe from all molestation from spies and foes. "

"Ah!" said Cuthbert, looking quickly at her, "and thou thinkestthat this will be our chance?"

"Let them but once start forth without us and all will be well, "answered Cherry quickly. "The only trouble will be that Aunt Susanloves to drag me whither she knows I love not to go, and fatherthinks that these wearisome discourses are for the saving of souls. He will wish to take the twain of us. It must be ours to escape himand abide at home. "

"And how can we compass that?"

"For thee it will be easy, " answered Cherry. "Thou must promiseWalter Cole to assist him with some task of printing or bindingthat same evening, and tell my father that thou art not seasoned tolong discourses, and hast no desire to fill the room of another whowould fain hear the words of life from the notable man. There willbe more crowding to hear him than the room will hold, so that itwill be no idle plea on thy part. Once thou art gone I can yawn andfeign some sort of ache or colic that will make me plead to go tobed rather than attend the preaching. Aunt Susan will scold andprotest it is but mine idleness and sinfulness in striving to avoidthe godly discourse; but father will not compel me to go. And whenall have started thou canst return, and we will together to thewise woman; and be she never so long with her divinations, we shallhave returned long ere they have done, and none will know of thevisit. "

Cuthbert agreed willingly to this plan. A bit of mischief andfrolic was as palatable to young folks in the seventeenth centuryas it is in the nineteenth, and as a frolic those two regarded thewhole business. They were both full of curiosity about the wisewoman and her divinations, and it seemed to Cherry that to fail intaking advantage of her skill when they had the chance of doing sowould be simple folly and absurdity. If she could read the secretsof the future, surely she must be able to tell them somewhat of thelost treasure. 

Cherry's plan was carried out to the letter without the least realdifficulty, and without raising any suspicion. Martin Holt was notparticularly anxious that the exact locality of the undergroundmeeting place should be known to his nephew, who had not professedhimself by any means on the Puritan side as yet, though listeningwith dutiful and heedful attention whenever his uncle spoke to himon the matter of his tenets. As for Cherry, her dislike to sermonshad long been openly declared, and it was scarcely expected thatshe would patiently endure another of the discourses that hadcaused her such distaste before. 

And so it came about that upon a chill, frosty January night, Cuthbert and Cherry stood before a small, narrow house in BudgeRow--a house that seemed to be jammed in between its twoneighbours, and almost crushed by their overhanging gables andheavy beams; and Cherry, with a trembling hand, gave a peculiarknock, thrice repeated, upon the stout panels of the narrow door, that at the third summons opened slowly and noiselessly, as ifwithout any human agency. 

The dark passage thus revealed to view was black as pitch, andCuthbert involuntarily recoiled. But Cherry had been here before, and knew the place, and laid her hand upon his arm. 

"Courage!" she said, in a voice that quivered with excitement andnot with fear; "it is always so here. Walk boldly in; there isnaught to hurt us. When the door has closed we shall see a light. "

Stepping across the threshold, and keeping fast hold of Cherry'sarm, his quick glance roving from side to side in search of anypossible foe lurking in the shadows, Cuthbert entered this strangeabode, and felt rather than saw that the door closed noiselesslybehind them, whilst he heard the shooting of a heavy bolt, andturned with a start, for it seemed impossible that this could havebeen done without some human hand to accomplish the deed. But hissense of touch assured him that he and Cherry were the only personsat this end of the narrow passage, and with a light shiver at theuncanny occurrence, he made up his mind to follow this adventure tothe end. 

"See, there is the light!" whispered Cherry, who was quivering withexcitement. "That is the sign that the wise woman is ready. We haveto follow it. It will lead us to her. "

The light was dim enough, but it showed plainly in the pitchydarkness of the passage, and seemed to be considerably above them. 

"We must mount the stairs, " whispered Cherry, feeling her waycautiously to the foot of the rickety flight; and the cousinsmounted carefully, the dun light, which they did not see--only thereflections it cast brightening the dimness--going on before, untilthey reached an upper chamber, the door of which stood wide open, asoft radiance shining out, whilst a strange monotonous chanting washeard within. 

Upon the threshold of the room stood a huge black cat withbristling tail and fiery eyes. It seemed as though he would disputethe entrance of the strangers, and Cuthbert said to himself that hehad never seen an uglier-looking brute of the kind since themonster wildcat he had killed in the forest about his home. He drewCherry a pace backwards, for the creature looked crouching for aspring. 

"It is the wise woman's cat, her familiar spirit!" whispered thegirl, in a very low voice. "Show him a piece of money; then he willlet us pass. He takes toll of those who come to the wise woman. Show him the gold, and then place it within that shell. After thathe will let us go in. "

Cuthbert took a small piece of gold from his purse. He held it upbefore the formidable-looking creature, and then let it drop into ashell fixed in the outer wall of the room. He heard it fall as ifthrough a slot, and fancied that some person within the room hadtaken it out and examined it. There was a slight peculiar call, andthe cat, whose tail had begun to grow less, and whose snarlings hadceased at sight of the coin, now sprang suddenly backwards andvanished within the room, whilst a cracked voice was heard biddingthem enter. 

"That is the voice of the wise woman, " said Cherry. "Come, Cuthbert, and fear nothing. "

Together the pair stepped over the threshold, and again the doorclosed noiselessly behind them, and the bolt flew as it seemed ofitself into its socket. Cuthbert did not altogether relish thislocking of doors behind them as they went; but Cherry, who had beenhere before, did not seem to mind, and doubtless it was butprudence that had taught the old woman to carry on her artssecretly if she wished to escape imprisonment or death. 

Glancing curiously round him, Cuthbert saw himself in a long, low, narrow room that was all in deep shadow save at the upper end, where a soft bright light was burning, carefully shaded at oneside, and so arranged that whilst it illuminated the features ofthose who stood beside the table behind which the oracle sat, itleft the features of the wise woman herself in the deepest shadow, a pair of small black beady eyes being at first glance the onlyfeature Cuthbert could distinguish. 

The lamp stood upon a table, and the old woman, clad from head tofoot in a long black mantle, sat on the farther side. There were afew implements of her profession about her--one or two big books, acrystal bowl containing some black fluid very clear and sparkling, an ebony wand, and a dusky mirror in a silver frame. She fixed herbright bead-like eyes upon her guests as they advanced, and askedin her cracked, harsh tones:

"Who comes here?"

"Two persons desirous of testing your skill, " answered Cuthbertboldly. "It is told me that you can read the future; I would ask ifyou can also look back into the past?"

He felt the snake-like glance bent fixedly upon him. There was asubtle fascination in those eyes, and he looked into them fixedlywhether he would or no. As his eyes became used to the dimness inwhich the old woman sat, he saw that her face was brown andwrinkled like a fragment of ancient parchment, that her featureswere very sharp and wasted, and that there was something weird andwitch-like in her whole aspect. He felt as though he had seenbefore some face that that withered one faintly resembled, but inthe confusion of the moment he could put no name to it. He wantedto keep his head, and to retain his firmness and acuteness, but hewas conscious of a strange whirling in his brain as the old womancontinued to gaze and gaze upon him as though she would never besatisfied with her inspection. 

At last she spoke again. 

"And who art thou that comest so boldly to pry into the deadsecrets of the past?"

"I am one Cuthbert Trevlyn, son of a house that has suffered sorevicissitudes. I come to ask the skill of the wise woman indiscovering a secret long hidden from our family. "

He stopped suddenly, for the woman held up her hand as if to stophim, and her voice took a strange hissing tone. 

"Silence! Enough--thou hast spoken enough. Let me now tell thee therest. I will tell thee what thou hast come to seek for. Silence! Iwill consult the spirits; they will tell me all. "

Drawing nearer to her the crystal bowl, the old woman bent her headover it, and whispered incantations, as it seemed, over itscontents. For a while there was deep silence in the room, andCherry felt chill with excitement and wonder. This was verydifferent from the reception she and her cousin Rachel had met. They had but been bidden to show their hands, and had then seensome cabalistic characters formed by the wise woman, from which shehad told them all they wished to know. But there had been nothinghalf so mysterious as this, and the girl felt certain that the wisewoman regarded Cuthbert and his questions with far greater interestthan any she had bestowed upon the fortunes or the ailments ofRachel. 

Presently there arose, as if in the far, far distance, a sound ofvoices faint and confused. Cherry clung to Cuthbert's arm, andlooked about her with a pale, scared face, half expecting to seethe room filled with disembodied spirits; but his glance nevershifted from the down-bent face of the wise woman, and he halfsuspected that the sounds proceeded in some way from her, albeitthey seemed to float about in the air round them, and to approachand die away at will. 

Suddenly the old woman raised her head and spoke. 

"Thy mission to me this day is to ask news of the lost treasure ofTrevlyn. "

Cherry started, and so did Cuthbert. There could be no doubting theold woman's power now. If she could see so much in her bowl, couldshe not likewise see where that lost treasure lay buried?

"Thou speakest sooth, mother, " he said boldly. "It is of the losttreasure I would speak. Canst tell me if it still remains as it waswhen it was lost? Canst tell me the spot where it lies hid, that Imay draw it thence? If thou canst lead me to it, thou shalt notlose thy reward; thou shalt be rich for life. "

The youth spoke eagerly; but a curious smile crept over the oldwoman's face at his words. 

"Foolish boy!" she said. "Seest thou not that if gold were mydesire I have but to discover the place where the treasure lies tosome stalwart knave sworn to do my bidding, and all would be mine?Could I not sell this golden secret to the highest bidder, anwealth was all I craved? Foolish, foolish boy--impetuous like allthy race! What hast thou to offer me that I may not obtain by onewave of this wand?"

Cuthbert was silent, wondering alike at the old woman and herwords. If she was not disposed to sell her golden secret (and whatshe said was but too true--that the treasure would be more to herthan any reward), what hope was there of her revealing it to him?He stood silent and perplexed, waiting for the old woman to speakagain. 

"Cuthbert Trevlyn, " she said, after a long pause, "methought thatthe hope of finding the treasure had long since been abandoned bythy race. "

"That may well be, but it has not been so abandoned by me. Whilst Ihave youth and health and strength, I will not give up that hope. I, the grandson of Isabel Wyvern, will not cease to strive till Ihave won back the lost luck that was to return to that housethrough the daughters' sons. "

It was almost at random that Cuthbert had spoken these words, butsome recollection had come over him of the story he had heard ofthe devotion of certain gipsy people to the family of the Wyverns, and their prognostications concerning them. This woman, with thebrown and crumpled skin and the beady black eyes, was very likesome of those wild gipsy folk he had seen from time to time in theforest. Was it not just possible that she might be one of theirtribe, who for some reason or some physical infirmity had abandonedthe wandering life, and had set up for a wise woman in the heart ofthe great city? Was there not some strange community of knowledgeand interest amongst all these wandering people? and might she notin any case know something about the families of foe and friend, and the loss of the vast treasure one day to be restored?

As his grandmother's name passed his lips, Cuthbert was certainthat he saw a flicker pass across the wise woman's face; but shebent her head again over her bowl, and for some minutes remained indeep silence. Then she looked up and scanned his face again. 

"Let me see thy hand, " she said. 

He held it out fearlessly, and she bent over it for some time. 

"It is a good hand, " she said at length, "and its owner may lookfor prosperity in life, But he must heed one thing, and that is hisown over-bold rashness. He must beware of trusting all men. He mustbeware of fatal fascination. He must beware of a darkly-flowingriver, and the dark cellar beyond. He must have the courage to say'nay'--the courage to fly as well as to fight. Young man, thou hastover-much curiosity. In these times of peril men must walk warily. Choose the safe path, and keep therein. Think not to play with edgetools and yet keep thy fingers unscarred. "

Cuthbert felt the colour rising in his face. He felt the homethrust embodied in these words. He knew that they were a warningaddressed to that side of his character which urged him to makefriends on all sides, and strive to see good in all men, and toavoid joining himself to any one party in Church or State whilst inmeasure belonging to all. For a man of quality he knew such acourse would be impossible and foolishly perilous, but he had feltsecure in his own insignificance. He, however, well understood thewarning, and so he marked the words about the flowing river anddark cellar, and though by no means understanding them now, heresolved that he would not forget. 

But Cherry was shivering with excitement, and at last she couldkeep silence no longer. The wise woman had been kind to her before;surely she would not resent it if she spoke now. 

"But the treasure, mother, the treasure, " she urged. "Canst notthou help us there?"

The old woman shifted her bright eyes to the flushed face of thegirl, and a flicker passed over her face as she repeated:

"Us--us? And what part or lot has Martin Holt's daughter in thelost treasure of Trevlyn? What, my pretty child, has thy handsomelover come so soon? and art thou looking already to be made a ladyof by him?"

The girl hid her blushing face on Cuthbert's shoulder, whilst heanswered with boyish straightforwardness:

"I will wed my cousin Cherry or none else. We have plighted ourtroth secretly, and she shall one day be my bride. If thou cansthelp me in this matter, it will make our lot easier; but, poor orrich, she shall be mine!"

The old woman nodded her head several times, and Cuthbert fanciedthat a greater benignity of expression crossed her wrinkled face. 

"Brave words! brave words!" she muttered, "and a brave heartbehind. Grandson to Isabel Wyvern! Ay, so it is; and there isWyvern in that face as well as Trevlyn. For her sake--for her sake!Ay, I would do much for that. 

"Boy, " she said suddenly, raising her voice and speaking in herwitch-like accents again, "thou hast spoken a name which is as atalisman, and though thou hast asked a hard thing, I will help theean I can. Yet I myself know naught. It is the familiar spirits thatknow, and they will not always come even at my call; they will notalways speak sooth at my bidding. I can but use my arts; the restlies with them; and this is a secret that has been long-time hid. "

"Ay, and the time has now come when it should be revealed, "answered Cuthbert boldly. "Use what arts thou wilt! I ask theanswer to my question. I would know where the lost treasure lies. "

As he spoke these words the room became suddenly darkened. Aroundthem again as they stood there seemed to float voices and whispers, though not one articulate word could either hear. In the gloom theysaw nothing save the fiery eyes of the great cat, which appeared tobe crouched upon the table beside its mistress. The whisperings andvoices, sometimes accompanied by soft or mocking laughter, continued for the space of several moments, and appeared to beinterrupted at last by the tap of the wise woman's wand upon thetable, which three times repeated enforced a sudden silence. 

The silence was for a moment more awe inspiring than what had gonefirst; but before Cherry had more time than sufficed to nipCuthbert hard by the hand, they heard the old woman's voice, in anaccent of stern command, uttering one single word:

"Speak!"

There was a brief pause, and then a sweet low voice rose in theroom and seemed to float round them, whilst the words with theirrhythmic cadence fell distinctly on the ears of the listening pair:

"Three times three--on a moonlight night, The oak behind, the beech to right;Three times three--over ling and moss, Robin's gain is Trevlyn's loss. 

"Three times three--the war is long, Yet vengeance hums, and the back is strong;Three times three--the dell is deep, It knows its secret well to keep. 

"Three times three--the bones gleam white, None dare pass by day or night;Three times three--the riddle tell!The answer lies in the pixies' well. "

The voice ceased as suddenly as it had begun. 

"Is that all?" asked the harsh accents of the wise woman. 

"That is all the spirits choose to tell, " answered the soft voice, already, as it seemed, far away; and in another moment the lampshone forth again. 

The cat leaped down from the table with a hissing sound, and theold woman was revealed in her former position, resting her twoelbows on the table, her withered face supported in the palm of herhand. 

"Thou hast heard?"

"Ay, but I have not understood. Canst thou read the riddle to me?"

But the old woman shook her head. 

"That may not be; that thou must do for thyself. I will write downthe words for thee, that thou mayest not forget; but thou, and thoualone, must find the clue. "

With swift fingers she transcribed some characters on a fragment ofparchment, and Cuthbert marvelled at the skill in penmanship theold woman displayed when she gave the paper into his hands. It waswith a beating heart that he scanned the mysterious characters; butthe old woman had risen to her feet, and motioned them away. 

"Begone!" she cried, "begone! I have no more to say. Heed mywarning. Beware of menaced perils. The perils of the forest areless than the perils of the city; and an open foe is better than afalse friend--a friend who lures those that trust him to a commondestruction, even though he himself be ready to share it. Hardenthine heart--beware of thine own merciful spirit. Turn a deaf earto the cry of the pursued. Swim with the current, and strive not tostem it. And now go! I have said my say. Thou hast fortune withinthy grasp an thou hast wits to find it and hold it. "

There was no disobeying the imperious gesture of the old woman. Cuthbert would fain have lingered to ask more questions, but hedared not do so. With a few brief words of thanks and farewell, hetook Cherry's hand and turned away. The bolt of the door flew back;the door opened of itself again. The cat stalked on before down thedark staircase, and a faint gleam from above showed them the waydown. The outer door sprang open before and closed behind them, andthe next minute Cuthbert was hurrying his companion along the darkstreet, pulling her into the shadow of a doorway if any soundsannounced the approach of any of the tavern roisterers, and soprotecting her from any danger or peril till they stood at last insafety beneath Martin Holt's roof, and looked wonderingly into eachother's eyes, as if questioning whether it had not all been partand parcel of a dream. 

They had not been long gone; a bare hour had elapsed since they hadstolen out into the darkness together. There was no fear that anyother member of Martin Holt's household would be back for aconsiderable time. The two conspirators bent over the scrap ofparchment they placed between them on the table, and poredearnestly over it together. 

"What does it mean, Cuthbert? what can it mean? Canst read thewords aright?"

"Ay, it is well writ. I can read it, but I know not what it means. "

"Read it again to me. "

He obeyed, and she forthwith began to ask a hundred questions. 

"'Three times three'--that comes so many times. What can that mean, Cuthbert? it must mean something. "

"Yes, doubtless, but I know not what. "

"And again, 'Robin's gain is Trevlyn's loss. ' Cuthbert, who mayRobin be?"

"I know not: Yet stop--hold! Yes, I have it now. Not that it may beaught of import. Robin is a name a score of men may bear even inone village. But when the robbers of the road found themselves atthe ruined mill where the gipsies were, I heard the leader ask, 'Where is Long Robin?'"

"And was he there?" asked Cherry eagerly. 

"I know not: none answered the question, and I heeded it no more. Most like he was but some serving man they wanted to take thehorses. "

"Cuthbert, it seems plain that some Robin has stolen this treasure, and carried it off and hidden it. The verses must mean that!"

"Ay, I doubt it not, Cherry, " answered Cuthbert, smiling; "but seeyou not, fair cousin, that almost any person knowing of this losttreasure and the legend of the gipsies' hate could have strungtogether words like these? All men hold that it may still be hiddenin the forest around the Chase; but there be deep dells by thedozen, and the pixies, men say, have all fled away. And there bewells that run dry, and men find fresh ones bursting out wherenever water was before. These lines scarce show me more than I haveknown or thought before. "

"But they do, they do!" cried Cherry excitedly. "They tell that itwas Robin who has stolen it. Cuthbert, when thou goest to theforest next thou must find this Long Robin and see if it can behe. "

The young man smiled at her credulity and enthusiasm. He was not soentirely sceptical as to some possible clue being given by theseverses as he would have her believe, but he could not see anydaylight yet, and wished to save her from disappointment. 

"That is scarce like to be. The treasure was stolen nigh on fiftyyears agone, and he must have been a lusty robber who stole itthen--scarce like to be living now. But we will think of this more. The wise woman must have dealings with a familiar, else how couldshe have known our errand? We must heed her words well; they may bewords of wisdom. She knew strange things from my hand. I marvel howshe could read it all there. "

Cuthbert looked upon his palm and shook his head. It was all amystery to him. But he had greater faith in the wise woman than healtogether felt prepared to admit, and as he sought his couch thatnight he kept saying over and over to himself the magic words hehad heard. 

"'Three times three--three times three!' What can that signify? Inthe forest perchance I shall read the riddle aright. Or perchancethe gipsy queen, the dark-eyed Joanna, will aid me in the search. If I could but trust her, she might see things that I cannot inthese lines. Would that the winter were past; would that the summerwere about to come! The perils of the forest are to be less to methan the perils of the city. I wonder what perils menace me here. Beneath my father's roof I oft went in peril of my life; buthere--why, here I feel safer than ever in my life before!"

Chapter 10: The Hunted Priest. 

The two friends that Cuthbert had made of his own sex during thefirst weeks spent beneath his uncle's roof were the same two guestshe had seen at the supper table on the evening of his arrival--WalterCole and Jacob Dyson. 

Both these men were several years older than himself, but in ashort time he became exceedingly intimate with the pair, and thusobtained insight into the home life of persons belonging to thethree leading parties in the realm. The Puritan element wasstrongly represented in Martin Holt's house, the Romanist in thatof the Coles, whilst the Dysons, although springing from a Puritanstock, had been amongst those willing to conform to the laws aslaid down in the late Queen's time. Both Rachel and Jacob preferredthe Episcopal form of worship to any other, and openly marvelled atthe taste of those who still frequented the private conventicles, where unlicensed preachers, at the risk of liberty and even life, held forth by the hour together upon their favourite doctrines andarguments. 

But honest Jacob was no theologian. He did not hesitate to assertopenly his ignorance of all controversy, and his opinion that itmattered uncommonly little what a man believed, so long as he ledan upright life and did his duty in the world. He was "fair sick"of long-drawn arguments, the splitting of hairs, and thosequestions which the theologians of all parties took such keen joyin discussing--though, as nobody ever moved his opponent one whit, the disputes could only be held for the love the disputants feltfor hearing themselves talk. Jacob had long since claimed forhimself the right to leave the room when politics and religion cameunder discussion. As an only son, he had some privileges accordedhim, and this was one he used without stint. 

Honest Jacob had taken an immediate and great liking for CuthbertTrevlyn from the first appearance of that youth at his uncle'shouse. Though himself rough and uncouth of aspect, clumsy of gaitand slow of speech, he was quick to see and admire beauty and witin others. He had picked out Cherry from amongst her sisters forthose qualities of brightness and vivacity in which he felt himselfso deficient, and it seemed as though he took to Cuthbert for verymuch the same reason. 

Cuthbert was ready enough to accept the advances of thisgood-natured youth. He was a stranger in this great city, whilstJacob knew it well. He was eager to hear and see and learn all hecould; and though Jacob's ideas were few and his powers ofobservation limited, he was still able to answer a great many ofthe eager questions that came crowding to the lips of the strangeras they walked the streets together. And when Cuthbert accompaniedJacob to his home, Abraham Dyson could fill up all the blank in hisson's story, and was secretly not a little pleased with Cuthbert'skeen intelligence and ready interest. 

The Dysons were merchants in a small way of business, but werethriving and thrifty folks. They and the Holts had been in closerelations one with the other for more than one generation, and anyrelative of Martin Holt's would have been welcome at their house. Cuthbert was liked on his own account; and soon he became greatlyfascinated by the river-side traffic, took the greatest interest inthe vessels that came to the wharves to be unladed, and delightedin going aboard and making friends with the sailors. He quicklycame to learn the name of every part of the ship, and to pick up afew ideas on the subject of navigation. Whenever a vessel came infrom the New World but recently discovered, he would try to get onboard and question the sailors about the wonders they had seen. Afterwards he would discourse to Jacob or to Cherry of the thingshe had learned, and would win more and more admiration from both byhis brilliant powers of imagination and description. 

So the river became, as it were, a second home to him. AbrahamDyson had more than one wherry of his own in which Cuthbert waswelcome to skim about upon the broad bosom of the great river. Hesoon became so skillful with the rude oars or the sail, that he wasa match for the hardiest waterman on the river, and more than onceCherry had been permitted to accompany Cuthbert and Jacob upon someexcursion up or down stream. 

And now, after many weeks of pleasant comradeship, Cuthbert foundhimself in the unenviable position of standing rival to his friendin the affections of Cherry, and the more he thought about it theless he liked the situation. He could not give Cherry up--that wasout of the question; besides, had he renounced her twenty timesover, that would not improve Jacob's case one whit. Cherry was herfather's own daughter, and, with all her kittenish softness, had avery decided will of her own. She was not the sort of daughter tobe bought and sold, or calmly made over like a bale of wool. Shewould certainly insist on having a voice in the matter, and herchoice was not likely at any time to fall upon the worthy butunprepossessing Jacob. 

All this Cuthbert understood with the quick apprehension of alover; but it was very doubtful if Jacob would so see things, andCuthbert felt as though there was something of treachery inaccepting and returning his many advances of friendship whilst allthe time he was secretly affianced to the girl for whose hand Jacobhad made formal application, and had been formally accepted, thoughfor the present, on account of the maiden's tender years, thematter was allowed to stand over. 

With Walter Cole there was no such hindrance to friendship, andjust at this juncture Cuthbert prosecuted and confirmed hisintimacy at that house by constant visits there. He was greedy ofinformation and book learning, and in this narrow dim dwelling, literally stacked with books, papers, and pamphlets of all kinds, and partially given over to the mysteries of the printing press, seldom worked save at dead of night, Cuthbert's expanding mindcould revel to its full content. 

He devoured every book upon which he could lay hands--history, theology, philosophy; nothing came amiss to him. He would sit bythe hour watching Anthony Cole at work setting type, asking himinnumerable questions about what he had been last reading, andfinding the white-headed bookseller a perfect mine of information. 

Controversy and the vexed topics of the day were generally avoidedby common consent. The Coles had learned through bitter experiencethe necessity for silence and reticence. Everybody knew them forardent and devoted sons of Rome, and they were under suspicion ofissuing many of the pamphlets against the policy of the King thatraised ire in the hearts of the great ones of the land. But none ofthese "seditious" writings had so far been traced to them, and theystill lived in comparative peace, although the tranquillitysomewhat resembled that of the peaceful dwellers upon the sides ofa volcanic mountain, within whose crater grumblings and mutteringsare heard from time to time. 

Cuthbert's frequent visits, and the manifest pleasure he took intheir society, were a source of pleasure to both father and son;and though they never showed this pleasure too openly, or asked himto continue his visits or help them in their night work, they didnot refuse his help when offered, and sometimes would look at eachother and say:

"He is drawing nearer; he is drawing nearer. Old traditions, raceinstincts, are telling upon him. He is too true a Trevlyn not tobecome a member of the true fold. His vagrant fancy is strayinghere and there. He is tasting the bitter-sweet fruit of knowledgeand restless search after the wisdom of this world. But already hebegins to turn with loathing from the cold, lifeless Puritan code. Anon he will find that the Established Church has naught to givehim save the husk, from which the precious grain has been carefullyextracted. "

"Father Urban thinks well of him, " Walter once remarked, as theydiscussed the youth after his departure one evening. "He has methim, I know not where, and believes that there may be work for himto do yet. We want those with us who have the single mind andhonest heart, the devotion that counts not the cost. All that iswritten on the lad's face. If he breaks not away from us, he maybecome a tool in a practised hand to do a mighty work. "

Cuthbert, however, went on his way all unconscious of the notice hewas arousing in certain quarters. His mind was filled just now withother matters than those of religious controversy. He had becomerather weary of the strife of tongues, and was glad to busy himselfwith the practical concerns of life that did not always land him ina dilemma or a difficulty. 

Abraham Dyson was having a new sloop built for trading purposes, and both Jacob and Cuthbert took the keenest interest in theprogress of the work. The sloop was to be called the Cherry Blossomwhen complete, and it was Abraham Dyson's plan that the christeningof the vessel by Cherry herself should be the occasion of herformal betrothal to his son. 

This ceremony, however, would not take place for some while yet, asat present the little vessel was only in the earlier stages ofconstruction. Neither Jacob nor Cuthbert had heard anything aboutthis secondary plan, but both took the greater interest in thesloop from the fact that she was to be named after Cherry. 

Cuthbert visited her daily, and Jacob as often as his duties at hisfather's warehouse allowed him. On this particular bright Februaryafternoon the pair had been a great part of their time on theriver, skimming about in the wherry, and examining every part ofthe little vessel under the auspices of the master builder. Duskhad fallen upon the river before they landed, and a heavy fogbeginning to rise from the water made them glad to leave it behind. They secured the wherry to the landing stage, leaving the oars inher, as they not unfrequently did when returning late, and werepursuing their way up the dark and unsavoury streets, when thesound of a distant tumult smote upon their ears, and they arrestedtheir steps that they might listen the better. 

Cuthbert's quick ears were the first to gather any sort of meaningfrom the discordant shouts and cries which arose. 

"They are chasing some wretched fugitive!" he said in a low voice. "That is the sound of pursuit. Hark! they are coming this way. Whoand what are they thus hounding on?"

Nearer and nearer came the surging sound of many voices and thehurried trampling of feet. 

"Stop him--catch him--hold him!" shouted a score of hoarse voices, rolling along through the fog-laden air long before anything couldbe seen. "Stop him, good folks, stop him! stop the runawaypriest--stop the treacherous Jesuit! He is an enemy to peace--astirrer up of sedition and conspiracy! Down with him--to prisonwith him! it is not fit for such a fellow to live. Down withhim--stop him!"

"A priest!" exclaimed Cuthbert between his shut teeth, a suddengleam corning into his eyes. "Jacob, heard you that? A priest--aman of God! one man against a hundred! Canst thou stand by and seesuch a one hunted to death? that cannot I. "

Jacob cared little for priests--indeed, he had no very good opinionof the race, and none of Cuthbert's traditional reverence; but hehad all an Englishman's love of fair play, and hated the crueltyand cowardice of an angry mob as he hated anything mean and vile, and he doubled back his wrist bands and clinched his horny fists ashe answered:

"I am with thee, good Cuthbert. We will stand for the weaker side. Priest or no, he shall not be hounded to death in the streetswithout one blow struck in his defence. But how to find him in thisfog?"

"We need not fight; that were mere madness, " answered Cuthbert inrapid tones. "Ours is to hurry the fugitive into the wherry, loosefrom shore, and out into the river; and then they may seek as theywill, they can never find us. Mist! hark! the cries come nigher. Ifthe quarry is indeed before them, it must be very nigh. Mark! Ihear a gliding footfall beside the wall. Keep close to me; I go tothe rescue. "

Cuthbert sprang swiftly through the darkness, and in a moment hefelt the gown of a priest in his hand, and heard the sound of thedistressed breathing of one hunted well nigh to the verge ofexhaustion. As the hunted man felt the clasp upon his robe heuttered a little short, sharp cry, and made as if he would havestopped short; but Cuthbert had him fast by the arm, and hurriedhim along the narrow alley towards the river, upholding him overthe rough ground, and saying in short phrases: "Fear nothing fromus, holy Father; we are friends. We have come to save you. Trustonly to us and, believe me, in three more minutes we shall bebeyond the reach of these savage pursuers. The river is before us, though we see it not, and our boat awaits us there. Once aboard, they may weary themselves in their vain efforts to catch us; theywill never find us in this fog. 

"Here is the water side. Have a care how you step--Jacob, hold fastthe craft whilst the Father steps in. So. All is well; cast off andI will follow. "

There was the sound of a light spring; the boat gave a slightlurch, and then, gliding off into the mysterious darkness of thegreat river, was lost to sight of shore in the wreaths of foggyvapour. 

"Where is the hound? where is the caitiff miscreant? Has he thrownhimself into the river? Drowning is too good for such a dog as he!"shouted angry voices on the river's bank, and through the still airthe sound of trampling footsteps could be heard up and down thelittle wharf which formed the landing stage. 

"I hear the sound of oars!" shouted one. 

"He has escaped us--curse the cunning of that Papist brood!" yelledanother. 

"Let us get a boat and follow, " counselled a third; but this wasmore easily said than done, as there was no other boat tied up atthat landing stage, and the fog rendered navigation too difficultand dangerous to be lightly attempted. With sullen growls and manycurses the mob seemed to break up and disperse; but the leadersappeared to stand in discussion for some moments after the rest hadgone, and several sentences were distinctly heard by those in theboat, who thought it safer to drift with the tide awhile close tothe shore than to use their oars and betray their close proximityto their foes. 

"We shall know him again; and if he dares to show his face in thecity, we will have him at last, even if we have to search for himin Alsatia with a band of soldiers. He has too long escaped thedoom he merits, the plotter and schemer, the vile dog of a seminarypriest! Once let us get him into our hands and he shall be hanged, drawn, and quartered, like those six of his fellows. No mercy forthe Jesuits; it is not fit that such fellows should camber theearth. There will be no peace for this realm till we have destroyedthem root and branch. "

The boat had now drifted too far for the conversation to be anylonger audible. Jacob gave a long, low whistle, and took to theoars. Cuthbert, who sat beside the priest in the stern, had hishand upon the tiller; and as the fog cloud lifted just a little, sothat the darkness about them became hardly more than that oftwilight, he looked at the silent, motionless figure beside him, and exclaimed in surprise:

"Father Urban!"

A slight smile hovered for a moment over the wan face of thepriest. He lifted his thin hand and said solemnly:

"Peace be with thee, my son. "

Cuthbert bent his head in reverence, and then turned again towardsthe Father. 

"What hast thou done that they should rail at thee thus--thou thefriend of the poor, the friend even of the leper? What has come tothem that they turn thus against thee? Sure, but a few short weeksago and thou didst hold back an angry crowd by the glance of thineeye. "

"My son, trust not in the temper of the crowd, in the goodwill ofthe multitude. Was it not the same crowd who on the Sabbathshouted, 'Hosanna to the Son of David!' that on the Friday yelled, 'Crucify Him! crucify Him!' Never put faith in man, still less inthe multitude that is ever swayed like a reed, and may be drivenlike a wave of the sea hither and thither as the wind listeth. 

"And then I was not amongst mine own flock. I had--rashly, perchance--adventured myself further than I ought, for I had amessage of consequence to execute, and I have not been wont to hidemyself from my fellow men. But there is no knowing in these fearfultimes of lawlessness and savage hate what will be the temper eitherof rulers or people. It seems that I am known--that there is somewarrant out against me. So be it. If I must flee from this city toanother, holier men have done the like ere now. I would mine errandhad been completed. I would I had accomplished my task. But--"

The priest's voice had been growing fainter for some moments. Cuthbert supposed it to be a natural caution on his part, lest evenJacob should hear him as he plied his oars; but as he came to thissudden stop, he felt that the slight frame collapsed in some way, and leaned heavily against him as he sat. Turning his eyes from thedim, rippling water, so little of which could be seen in thedarkness and the fog, to the face of the priest, he saw that it hadturned ghastly pale, and that the eyes were glazing over as if withthe approach of death. Plainly the fugitive had received somebodily hurt of which he had not spoken, and the question what to dowith their helpless burden became a difficult one to answer. 

"My father will not receive him, " said Jacob, shaking his head, ashe leaned upon his oars and let the boat drift along with the tidethat was carrying them towards the bridge. "He hates the priestsworse than your good uncle and mine, who has something of a fellowfeeling for them in these days of common persecution; and you knowwell what sort of a welcome we should receive from him did wearrive with a seminary priest in our arms. "

"And I trow the mob would be upon us ere we had got him safehoused, and for aught we could do to stop it might tear him limbfrom limb in our very sight. "

"Ay, there is always some rumour afoot of a new Papist plot; andwhether it be true or no, the people set on to harry the priests asdogs harry the hunted hare. I know not what to do. To land with himwill do neither good to him nor to us. A fine coil there would beat home if my father heard of me mixing myself up with Jesuittraitors; and Martin Holt would not be much better pleasedneither. "

"Martin Holt is not my father, " answered Cuthbert, with a touch ofhaughtiness; "and let him say what he will, I must save this man'slife, even if it cost me mine own. Thou knowest how he saved methat day in the dens of Whitefriars. To leave him to the mercy ofthe howling mob would be an act of blackest treachery; it woulddisgrace my manhood for ever. "

"Tush, man, who asked that of thee?" answered Jacob, with somethingof a smile at the lad's impetuosity. "I love not a black cassocknor a tonsured head so passing well; but a man is a man, eventhough he be a priest, and I call shame upon those who would thusmaltreat a brother man, and the more so when he is one who hasvisited the sick and tended the leper, and been the friend of thosewho have no friends in this great city. I would no sooner than thougive him up to the will of the mob; but we must bethink ourselveswhere he may be in safety stowed, else the mob will have himwhether we will or no. All I was meaning by my words was thatneither my home nor thine could be the place for him. "

"I ask thy pardon, good Jacob, for my heat, " answered Cuthberthumbly. "I should have known better thy good heart than to havethought such a thing of thee. "

"Nay, nay; I am no hero. "

"Thou art a kindly hearted and an honest man, which I misdoubt meif all the world's heroes are, " answered Cuthbert quickly. "Andnow, Jacob, it behoves us to think. Yes, I have it. We must askcounsel of Master Anthony Cole. He would be the one to hide FatherUrban if it could be done. Let me land nigh to the bridge, and goto them and tell them all; and do thou push out once more andanchor the craft beneath the pier on which their house rests. Methinks when I have taken counsel with them I can make shift toslip down the wooden shaft of that pier, and so hold parley withthee. Walter has done the like before now, and I am more agile insuch feats than he; moreover, I can swim like a duck if I shouldchance to miss my hold, and so reach the water unawares. That willbe the best, for the boat may not linger at the wharf side. We knownot what news may be afoot in the city, nor that there may not besearchers bent on finding Father Urban, let him land where he may. "

Whether or not Jacob relished this adventure, he was too stanch andtoo honest hearted to turn back now. The priest lay insensible atthe bottom of the boat, his head pillowed upon the cloaks theyouths had sacrificed for his better comfort. It was plainly amatter of consequence that he should soon be housed in somefriendly shelter. His gray face looked ghastly in the dim moonlightwhich began to struggle through the fog wreaths. When Cuthbertleaped lightly ashore hard by the bridge, and Jacob sheered offagain in the darkness, he felt as though he were out alone on theblack river, with only a corpse for company. 

"If it were but for Cherry's sake, I would do ten-fold more, " hemurmured, as he glanced up in the direction of the wool stapler'sshop, and pictured pretty Cherry stepping backwards and forwards ather spinning wheel. "But I trow she will hear naught of it; or ifshe does, she will think only of Cuthbert's share. Alack! I fear meshe will never think of me now. Why should she, when so proper ayouth is nigh? If he should go away and leave her, perchance herheart might turn to me for comfort; but I fear me he looks everyday more tenderly into her bright eyes. How could he live beneaththe roof and not learn to love her? He would be scarce human, scarce flesh and blood, were he to fail in loving her; and what ismy chance beside his? I might, almost as well yield her at once, and take good Kezzie instead. Kezzie would make a betterhousewife--my mother has told me so a hundred times; and I am fondof her, and methinks she--"

But there Jacob stopped short, blushing even in the darkness at thethought of what he had nearly said. Anchoring against the woodenpiles of the bridge, and letting his fancy run riot as it would, heindulged in a shifting daydream, in which pain and a vague sense ofconsolation were oddly blended. He sighed a good many times, but hesmiled once or twice likewise, and at last he gave himself a shakeand spoke out aloud. 

"At least it shall make no cloud and no bitterness betwixt ustwain. He is a fine lad and a noble one, and he deserves more atDame Fortune's hands than such a clown as I. Shall I grudge him hisluck if he gets her? never a whit! There may not be more than oneCherry in the world, but there are plenty of good wives and honestmaidens who will brighten a man's home for him. "

Musing thus, Jacob kept his watch, and was not long in hearingstrange and cautious sounds above his head. Looking up, he beheld alithe form slipping, in something of a snake fashion, down thewoodwork of the bridge, and the next moment Cuthbert sprang softlydown, so deftly that the wherry only rolled a little at the shock. 

"Hast thought me long? Hast been frozen with cold? I have made allthe haste I could. All is planned. This is not strange work tothem. See, I have brought with me this cradle of cord. We can placeFather Urban within, and they will draw him up from above, that noman shall see him enter their house. All the windows be shutteredand barred by now. None will see or hear. They have harboured manya fugitive before, I take it. They had all the ropes and needfulgear ready beneath their hand at a moment's notice. "

Whilst he was speaking, Cuthbert was wrapping the inanimate figurein the cloaks, and placing it gently in the hammock, as we shouldcall it, that, suspended by strong cords from above, had assistedhim in his descent to the boat. Then at a given signal thishammock, with its human load, was slowly and steadily drawnupwards, with a cautious, silent skill that betokened use andexperience; and as the eager watchers pushed out their boat alittle further into the river, they saw the bulky object vanish atlast within the dimly-lighted window of the tall, narrow house. Alight was flashed for a moment from the window, and then all waswrapped in darkness. 

"All is well, " exclaimed Cuthbert, with an accent of relief; "and Itrow that not a living soul but our two selves knows whither thepriest has fled. He is safe from that savage, howling mob. MethinksI hear their cries still! It was just so they yelled and hootedround me when Father Urban came so timely to my rescue. "

Mistress Susan chid Cuthbert somewhat roundly for being late forsupper that night. But when he said he had been belated by the fogon the river with Jacob, the excuse was allowed to stand. Cherrywas eager to know the progress making with her namesake, and noinconvenient questions were asked of Cuthbert when once herchattering tongue had been unloosed. 

Cuthbert's dreams were a little troubled and uneasy that night; buthe woke in good spirits, and was anxious to know the state ofFather Urban. He made an early excuse for visiting the Coles'abode, and found the elder man busy over his type. 

He looked up with a smile as Cuthbert appeared, but laid hisfingers on his lips. 

"Be cautious; he has but just sunk to sleep after a night ofwakeful pain. He is anxious to see thee. He asked for thee a scoreof times in the night; but he must not be wakened now. Thou hastdone a good deed, boy. Had Father Urban fallen a victim to yonhooting mob last eve, a deadly blow would have been dealt to thefaith of this land. "

"And is his sickness very sore? has he any grievous hurt?"

"He was sore knocked about and bruised ere he first wrenchedhimself from the officer of the law who sprang upon him with anorder of arrest. Two of his ribs be broke; and that long andfearful race for his life did cause him sore pain and greaterinjury, so that a fever has been set up, and he has had to losemuch blood to allay it. But he is quiet and at rest just now. Thouhadst better come again at sundown; he will doubtless be awakethen. He has somewhat to say to thee, I know. I believe that he hassome mission to entrust to thee. Thou hast a kindly heart and astrong arm. I trow thou wilt not fail him now. "

Anthony Cole looked fixedly into the boy's face, and Cuthbertreturned the glance unflinchingly. He was possessed by the generousfeeling all young and ardent natures know of keen desire to assistfurther any person already indebted to them for past grace. Thefact that already he had run some risk on account of Father Urbanonly made Cuthbert the more anxious to help him in whatever mannermight best conduce to his well being and comfort. He looked full athis interlocutor, and said:

"Whatever I may with honour and right do for Father Urban shall notbe lacking. I owe him my life. I can never grudge any service forhim, be it great or small. "

"Well spoken, my boy, " answered the bookseller, with his calm, penetrating smile. "May the blessed saints long preserve untaintedthat true nobility of soul. "

Cuthbert spent a restless day, wondering what mission the priesthad for him, and whether his uncle would be angry at him formeddling in any such matters. But Martin Holt was friendly withseveral of the Papist families about him, notably with the Colesthemselves; and Cuthbert had a growing sense of his ownindependence and the right to choose his own associates and his ownpath in life. 

It was growing dusk when he stood beside the narrow bed on whichFather Urban lay. The light filtered in scantily through the narrowwindow pane, and illumined a face lined by pain and white withexhaustion. Upon the bed lay a packet which looked like papers, andone of the priest's wasted hands lay upon it as if to guard it. AsCuthbert bent over him and spoke his name, Father Urban looked up, and a dim light crept into his eyes. 

"Is it thou, my son, come at last?"

"Yes, Father. What may I do for thee?"

"Wilt thou do one small service more for me, my son?"

"Willingly, Father, if it lies within my power. "

"It is well within thy power, boy. It is not the power I question, but the will. We live in dangerous days. Art willing to partake ofthe peril which compasses the steps of those who tread in the oldways wherein the fathers trod?"

"Try me and see, " was the quiet reply. 

Perhaps none could better have suited the astute reader ofcharacter. The hollow eyes lighted, and the old man bent uponCuthbert a searching glance whilst he seemed to pause to gatherstrength. 

"I would have thee take this packet, " he said, speaking slowly andwith some pain and difficulty. "There is no superscription; andsooner than let them be found by others on thy person, fling theminto the river, or cut them to fragments with thy dagger; andplunge thy dagger into thine own heart sooner than be taken withthem upon thee. But with caution and courage and strength (and Iknow that thou hast all of these) thou canst avoid this peril. Whatthy part is, is but this: Deliver this packet into the hand ofMaster Robert Catesby himself. Thou knowest him. Thou wilt make noerror. Seek him not at any tavern or public place. Go to a lonehouse at Lambeth, with moss-grown steps down to the water's edge. Go by thine own wherry thither, and go alone. Thou canst notmistake the house. There is none like it besides. It stands uponthe water, and none other building is nigh at hand; but a giant elmovershadows it, and there is a door scarce above high water leveland steps that lead from it. Knock three times, thus, upon thatdoor"--and the priest gave a curious tap, which Cuthbert repeatedby imitation; "and when thou art admitted, ask for Robert Catesby, and give him the packet. That is all. Thy mission will then bedone. Wilt thou do as much for me?"

Cuthbert answered, without the least hesitation:

"I will. "

Chapter 11: The Lone House On The River. 

"Cuthbert, do not go--ah, do not go!"

"And wherefore not, my Cherry?"

"I am afraid. I had such dreams last night. And, Cuthbert, didstthou not heed? Notedst thou not how in handing the salt at supperthy hand shook, and it was spilled? I like not such auguries; theyfill my heart with fear. Do not go--ah, do not!"

Cuthbert smiled as he caressed his little love, not averse tofeeling her soft arms clinging round his neck, yet quite disposedto laugh at her youthful terrors. 

"But what dost thou fear, sweetheart?"

"I fear everything, " she replied, with inconsequent vehemence. "Iremember the stories I have heard of the wiles of the priests, andhow they tempt unwary men to their destruction. What is this FatherUrban to thee, that thou shouldst risk aught for him? I will notlet thee go--I will not!"

"Father Urban saved my life. "

"And thou hast saved his. That debt is paid in full, " was theprompt response. "He saved thee at no peril to himself; thou hastsaved him when it might have cost thee thy life. Thou owest himnothing--nothing! Why should he ask this further service of thee?"

Cuthbert smiled. Cherry's petulance and vehemence amused him. Herlittle spoiled-child tempers and exactions were beginning to have agreat charm. He scarcely knew how much of the deeper fears ofdawning womanhood were beginning to intermingle with the "child's"eager love of her own way. Love was gradually transforming Cherry, but the transformation was as yet scarcely seen, and the addedcharm of her new softness and timidity had hardly begun to beobserved by those about her. 

"He is sorely sick, sweetheart, and he has asked this thing of me. I have passed my word. Thou wouldst not have me go back therefrom?"

"He should not have asked thee; he had no right, " flashed outCherry, in some despite. "Why did he not ask Walter Cole? he was afitter person than thou. "

"And wherefore so?"

"Why, everybody knows him for a pestilent Papist!" answered Cherry, with a flash of her big eyes. "Nothing he did would surpriseanybody. He is suspected already; whilst thou--nay, Cuthbert, wherefore dost thou laugh?"

"Marry, at the logic of thy words, sweetheart! Father Urban desiresa safe and secret messenger, and thou wouldst have him employ onealready suspected and watched! That were a strange way of settingto work, Why, I may come and go unquestioned. No man has suspectedme of aught, and I am one of those who willingly conform to thelaws. With Walter things be far different: he might be stopped andsearched by any suspicious knave who saw him pushing forth into theriver. "

"And a good riddance, too!" cried Cherry, who was in no humour tobe tolerant of the Romanists, who were, as she thought, putting herlover in peril. "I hate those plotting, secret, cunning Papists!They are like men who are always mining in the dark, working andstriving in deadly secret, no man knowing what will next be heardor seen. I like not such ways. I like not that thou shouldst meddlewith them. Those be treasonable papers, I doubt not. Cuthbert, itis not meet that thou shouldst have dealings with traitors!"

Cuthbert smiled, but the earnestness with which Cherry spakeimpressed him in spite of himself. It had been one thing to makethis promise to the sick priest who trusted him, but it was adifferent matter to be told that he was meddling in treason. Still, what did Cherry know about it? She was but a child. 

"I know that there be treasons and treacherous plots enow in theworld, " answered Cherry, as he put the question to her. "I hearmore than men think; and since thou hast been here, Cuthbert, Ihave listened and heeded as I was not wont to do. All men whisperof the treachery and malice of the Papists. All men know that hadthey their will the King would be sent to death or imprisonment, and some other person placed upon the throne. "

"I know not how that may be, " answered Cuthbert slowly, "and I haveno concern in such matters. All I have to do is to give thesepapers to one whom I know, and who has befriended me; and that mustI do at all cost, for my word is pledged, and thou wouldst not haveme go back from that, wouldst thou, Cherry?"

"I would not have thee run into danger, " answered Cherry, stickingpersistently to her point with true feminine insistence, "and Iknow better than thou canst do what evil haps befall them whomeddle in matters too hard for them, and that they reek not of. 

"Cuthbert, " drawing a little nearer and speaking in a breathlesswhisper, "dost call to mind what the wise woman said: how thou wastto beware of the dark river--the flowing river? And yet thou wiltventure forth upon it this eve! I like it not; I like it not! Iwould that I could make a prisoner of thee, that thou mightest notgo. "

"It were sweet imprisonment to be held in such thrall, " answeredCuthbert, smiling, as he loosed the clasp of the warm arms fromabout his neck; "but this time, sweetheart, I must needs go. I willbe cautious and careful. I are too much upon the river in thewherry for any to question my coming or going. None knew aught ofour rescue of the hunted priest; none but thyself knows of him norwhere he lies. It is impossible that any can suspect me yet; andfor the future, for thy sweet sake, I will be cautious how Iadventure myself into any like peril, if peril there be. "

With that Cherry had to be content, for Cuthbert was immovablewhere his word was pledged, and she had perforce to let him go, since he would not be stayed. 

"Tell thy father that I sup tonight with Abraham Dyson, " saidCuthbert, as he kissed her for the last time before he left. "Itmay be I shall not be home in time for the supper, and I would notbe too close questioned on my return. I will go thither when I havelanded once more. Good Jacob will wish for news of Father Urban. "

Cuthbert was gone, Cherry looking wistfully after him. She hadalready begun to know something of the pain as well as of the joyof love. She felt that there was in Cuthbert's nature a strain ofself devotion and heroism which frightened her whilst it enthralledher fancy. She had an instinct that he would never turn back in anyquest he had undertaken for the peril he might have to face. Shefelt that in him she was realizing her vague ideals of knightlyprowess and dauntless courage; but all the same, unless she mightbe at his side to share the peril, she would almost have felthappier had this fearless bravery been somewhat less. 

Cuthbert meantime pursued his way with a light heart, his packet ofpapers securely buttoned in the breast of his doublet. The keen airof the February afternoon fanned his face. His heart was full oftender thoughts of Cherry and her sweet affection for him. How soonwould it be possible, he wondered, to claim her as his own; andwhat would Martin Holt say to the frustration of one of hisfavourite schemes?

Of his present mission, and of any peril likely to accrue to himtherefrom, Cuthbert thought little or nothing. He did not see howhe could possibly come under suspicion simply from fulfilling thepriest's request. It would have been brutal to refuse; and whatharm could he do to himself or others by simply delivering a packetof papers?

He had almost promised Master Robert Catesby before this to visithim in his river-side house. Doubtless this was the very place forwhich he was now bound. Anything like an adventure was agreeable toone of Cuthbert's imaginative nature, and a spice of possibledanger did not detract from the sense of fascination, even thoughhe might not see wherein the danger lay. 

The wherry he was wont to use lay moored near to the Three Cranes, and no one heeded or questioned him as he stepped in and pushed offinto the river. A couple of soldiers were lounging upon the littlewharf and watching the small craft as they came and went. Theyappeared to take some note of Cuthbert, as of others who passed by, but they did not speak to him, and he wondered what their businesswas there. 

A fragment of talk between two watermen reached him as he beganrowing out in the direction of the Cherry Blossom; for he did notwish to take the upstream direction till twilight should havefallen and his movements would escape unheeded, and the voices ofthese men as they passed him reached him clearly over the water. 

"On the lookout for the runaway priest, I take it. Thou surelydidst hear how he gave them the slip in the fog, just when theythought they had him safe. He had been well bruised and battered. It was a marvel how he got free. But he knew the narrow lanes well, and doubled like a hare. Doubtless he had his friends in waiting, for he slipped into some craft and eluded pursuit. But for the fogthey would have made sure of him that time. They say he--"

But the rest of the sentence was lost in the distance, and Cuthbertlaughed silently as he plied his oars. 

"Beshrew me, but they make a mighty coil anent this good FatherUrban. One would have thought they could have made shift to layhands on him before were he so notable a miscreant. He was not inhiding when I saw him first; he appeared to go about the cityfearlessly. Doubtless it is but some new panic on the part of theKing. God help us all now that we be ruled over by such a poorpoltroon!"

Cuthbert had caught the prevailing contempt for the foolish andfeeble James that was shared by the nation in general, and Londonin particular. 

They put up with him to avoid the horrors and confusion of adisputed succession and a possible repetition of the bloody strifeof the Roses; but there was not one section of the community withwhom he was popular: even the ecclesiastics of the Episcopal partydespised whilst they flattered and upheld him. Cuthbert felt anaccess of zeal in his present mission in the thought that it wouldbe displeasing to the unkingly mind of the King. He had seen theungainly monarch riding through Westminster one day not long since, and the sight of his slovenly and undignified figure, trapped outin all the extravagance of an extravagant age, his clumsy seat onhorseback (of which, nevertheless, he was not a little proud), andhis goggle eyes and protruding tongue, filled the young man withdisgust and dislike. But for the noble bearing and boyish beauty ofthe Prince of Wales, who rode beside his father, his disgust wouldhave been greater; and all men were somewhat more patient with thedefects of the father in prognosticating better and happier timeswhen young Henry should succeed to the throne. 

Nevertheless treasonable plottings at this juncture did not appearas fearful and horrible as they had done in the days of "good QueenBess, " who, with all her faults and follies, contrived to keep herpeople's affection in a marvellous fashion, as her sire had donebefore her. Men who would have recoiled with horror at a whisperagainst the Queen's Majesty, shrugged their shoulders withcomparative indifference when they heard vague whispers of Popishor Puritan plots directed more or less against the person of KingJames. Any warm personal love and loyalty was altogether lacking tothe nation, and with it was lacking the element which has alwaysbeen the strongest bulwark of the sovereign's safety. 

James appears to have been dimly conscious of this, alwaysinsisting on wearing heavy and cumbersome garments, quilted sostrongly as to defy the thrust of a dagger. A monarch who goesabout in habitual fear of assassination betrays his knowledge thathe has failed to win the love or veneration of his subjects. 

Cuthbert mused idly of these things as he pushed out into themiddle of the river, and then eased up and looked about him to seeif his movements were observed. It was beginning to grow dusk now. The sun had dipped behind the trees and buildings. The two sentrieson the wharf had turned their backs upon the river, and wereentering a tavern. The other wherries were all making for theshore, and the tide was running in strongly and carrying Cuthbert'sboat upstream for him in the direction whither he would go. 

Letting himself drift with the tide, and contenting himself withkeeping the prow in the right direction, Cuthbert drifted on hisway quite as fast as he cared to. He had not often been as far upthe stream as this, since business always took him down towards theshipping in the mouth of the river. He had never before gone higherup than the Temple Stairs, and now as he drifted past these and sawthe fine pile of Westminster rising before his eyes, he felt athrill of admiration and awe, and turned in his seat the better toobserve and admire. 

Westminster was almost like another town in those days, dividedfrom the busy walled city of London by fields and gardens and finemansions standing in their own grounds. On the south side of theriver the houses were few and far between, and save at Southwark, hardly any attempt at regular building had been made. Past thegreat Palace of Whitehall and Westminster, with its ParliamentHouses rising majestic against the darkening sky, drifted thelonely little boat. And then Cuthbert took his oars and pulled forthe southern bank; for he knew that Lambeth was not very muchfarther away, and he recalled to mind the directions of the priest, how to find it and know it. 

Trees fringed the southern bank here, leafless at this season, butstill imparting a certain dark dreariness to the scene. The hoot ofan owl occasionally broke the silence, and sent light shiversthrough Cuthbert's frame. He was not free from superstition, andthe evil-omened bird was no friend of his. He would rather not haveheard its harsh note just at this time; and he could have wishedthat the river did not look so inky black, or that the trees didnot cast such weird shadows. 

But the tide ran strong beneath the overhanging bank, and Cuthbertwas carried onwards without any effort of his own. There wassomething just a little uncanny in this swift force. It remindedCuthbert of relentless destiny sweeping him onward whether or nothe would go. 

But it was too late to consider or turn back even if such had beenhis desire. Already he began to see white gleams as of stone workalong the water's edge. The willow trees came to an end; a wallbounded the river for fifty yards or more, and then there arosebefore his eyes the structure of the lonely old house, guarded byits giant elms--a house seeming to be actually built upon the wateritself, one door, as Cuthbert had been told, opening upon theflight of steps which at high water were almost covered. 

It was well nigh high water now, and Cuthbert could bring the prowof his boat to within a foot of the door. There were rings allalong the topmost step for the mooring of small craft, and hequickly made fast his wherry and stood at the iron-clamped portal. 

How dark and silent and lonely the house looked, rising gaunt anddim in the uncertain light! Who would choose such a spot for ahome? Surely only those whose deeds would not bear the light ofday. And why that deadly silence and torpor in a house inhabited byhuman beings? It seemed unnatural and uncanny, and as a great whiteowl swept by on silent wing with a hollow note of challenge, Cuthbert felt a chill sense of coming ill creep through his veinsand run down his spine; and fearful lest his resolution shoulddesert him at the last, he raised his hand and gave thethrice-repeated knock he had been taught by Father Urban. 

He doubted if the signal would be heard. He could scarcely believethat the house boasted any inhabitants, but soon he heard a heavyyet cautious tread approach the door from the other side. Someheavy bolts were drawn back, and the door was opened a little way. 

"Who is there?" asked a muffled voice. 

"One wishful to see Master Robert Catesby. "

"Why come to this back door, then? Why not approach the house bythe front way, like an honest man?"

Cuthbert was rather taken aback by this question. He answered witha touch of sharpness:

"I came the way I was bidden to come. If I am in fault, the blamelies with him who sent me. "

"And who is that?"

"Father Urban. "

At the sound of that name the door was cautiously opened a littlefurther, and Cuthbert felt himself confronted by a man whose facestill remained in deep shadow. 

"You come from Father Urban, and with a message to Robert Catesby?"

"Not a message; a packet which methinks contains papers. I wasbidden to deliver them into no hand but his, and to destroy boththem and myself sooner than let them fall into alien hands. "

At that the door opened wider yet, and Cuthbert could look along adark stone passage, at the end of which glowed a light. Hiscompanion's first suspicions now appeared laid to rest. 

"Come in, come in. Speak not thus aloud without, even at this deadhour of dim loneliness. Men like ourselves stand in sore need ofevery caution. Come in, and let me lock the door behind us. Theremay be spies lurking even round these walls. "

"Spies!" echoed Cuthbert, as he strode along the passage towardsthe light. "I fear no spies; I have naught to conceal!"

But the other man was drawing the heavy bolts, and did not hearthis remark. He followed Cuthbert into the great vaulted kitchen, which was illumined by a noble fire, the warmth of which was verywelcome to the youth after his chilly voyage on the river. Therewas some cooking going on at the stove, and an appetizing odourfilled the air. 

Cuthbert turned his curious glance upon the custodian of thisstrange place, and saw a man who was evidently a gentleman, thoughvery plainly and simply dressed, and employed at this moment inmenial toil. He had a thin, worn face, and his eyes gleamedbrightly under their heavy brows. He looked like one who had seenboth trouble and suffering, and had grown somewhat reckless undersuccessive miseries, He on his side was attentively regarding Cuthbert. 

"Thy name, good youth?" he asked abruptly. 

"Cuthbert Trevlyn, " was the unhesitating rejoinder. 

The lad had not yet learned the prudence of reticence in dealingwith strangers. He was neither ashamed of his errand nor of hisname. 

"Trevlyn--Trevlyn. It is a good name, and I have heard it before. Ihave heard Catesby speak of thee. So thou hast come with papers forhim? Art thou indeed to be one of us?"

The question was asked almost in a whisper, accompanied by a verykeen and searching glance. Cuthbert did not exactly know what tomake of it. 

He shook his head as he replied:

"Nay, I know naught of that. I am but a messenger from FatherUrban, who was in sore straits but two days back, and well-nighfell into the hands of his foes with these papers upon him. I hadthe good hap to help him to escape the peril; and as he was sorehurt, he begged of me to carry them to Master Catesby and deliverthem with mine own hand. This have I come to do. He bid me seekthis house, for that I should likely find him here. If he be notso, I pray you direct me where he may be found; for I have no mindto return with my task unfulfilled, nor yet to carry about with methese same papers an hour longer than need be. "

"Heaven forfend!" ejaculated the custodian of the place withunfeigned anxiety. "Father Urban in peril! Father Urban sore hurt!We must know more of this business, and that without delay. Artsure he is safe for the present? Art sure he hath not fallen intothe hands of the King's hirelings?"

"He is safe enow for the nonce. "

"And where--where is he hidden?"

Cuthbert gave the man a keen look as he answered:

"That will I tell to none save Master Robert Catesby himself, whomI know. You, good sir, are a stranger to me, albeit, I doubt not, avery worthy gentleman. "

The man's thin face lighted up with a gleam of approval. 

"You are i' the right, young sir; you are i' the right of it, " hesaid. "In these days of peril and trouble men cannot walk toowarily. My name is Robert Kay, and the fate which has been yourfather's has been mine, too. I have been ruined and beggared for mydevotion to my faith; and but for Master Robert Catesby and otherswho have given me assistance and employment, I might well havestarved in some garret ere now. Yet I was gently born and nurtured, and mine only cause of offence was the religion which but ageneration back all men in this realm honoured and loved. Well-a-day! alack-a-day! we have fallen on evil times. Yet there isstill a God in the heavens above us, and our turn may come--yea, our turn may come!"

The fierce wild gesture that accompanied these words recalled toCuthbert's mind the same sort of prediction and menace uttered byCatesby on the night of their journey together over HammertonHeath. He felt at once a lively curiosity and a sense of awe andrepulsion; but he made no remark, and Kay quickly recoveredhimself. 

"It boots not to linger. We must to Catesby without delay. He musthear your news, young man, and must learn of you the fate of FatherUrban. You will come with me to find him?"

"Very gladly, an you know where he is to be found. "

A curious expression flitted across the man's face. 

"Ay, that do I know well; nor is he far from here. We shall soonreach him in that wherry of yours. He is but across the river atWestminster, in the house of Thomas Percy, who has a lodging therein right of his office and stewardship to my Lord of Northumberland. "

Kay glanced rather keenly into Cuthbert's face as he spoke thesewords, but they evoked no answering spark of intelligence, andagain the mask fell, leaving the face expressionless and weary asbefore. 

"I can take you across in my boat right well, " answered Cuthbert;"and the sooner we start the better I shall be pleased, for I havea dark journey back tonight, and there be sentries on the watchalong the banks who may perchance ask somewhat too curiously of mymovements an I be detained late. "

"Nay, then let us hurry, " said Kay restlessly; "for Catesby willnot be back for many hours, and we must needs find him. I will buttarry to get my cloak, and then we will to the boat. "

He vanished as he spoke through an open door, and Cuthbert stoodlooking inquisitively about him. There were several deep recessesin this vault-like place, and in one of these were piled a largenumber of small barrels, the contents of which Cuthbert guessed tobe wine or spirits. He was rather amused at the store thus gottogether, and thought that Master Kay and his companions knew howto enjoy themselves, even though they did lead lonely and troubledlives. His eyes were still fixed upon the barrels when Kayreturned, and a smile hovered round the corners of his lips. Theman seemed to note the glance, and looked sharply at him. 

"Thou knowest the meaning of those?" he said suddenly; and Cuthbertsmiled again as he answered readily:

"Ay, verily that do I. "

That was all which then passed. Kay took up a lantern and led theway. Cuthbert followed, and soon the door was unbarred and barredagain behind them, the wherry was pushed out into deep water, andCuthbert's strong arms were soon propelling it across the river, Kay steering carefully, and with the air of a man well used to thetransit. 

He cautioned quietness as they neared the shore, but in the littlecreek where the boat was pushed up not a living thing was seen. Another boat somewhat larger in build was already in the creek, andthere was a post to which craft could he made fast whilst theowners landed. Kay dexterously performed this office, and takingCuthbert by the arm, bid him muffle his face in the collar of hiscloak, and walk cautiously and with circumspection. They quicklyreached the great block of buildings of which the Houses ofParliament formed the most conspicuous feature; and diving down anarrow entry, Kay paused suddenly before a low-browed door, andgave the peculiar knock Cuthbert had learned from the priest. 

The door was quickly opened, and a rough head thrust forth. 

"Who goes there?"

"It is I, good Bates--I and a gentleman--one of us--come onbusiness that brooks no delay with Master Robert Catesby. Go summonthy master, good knave, without delay. It is needful this gentlemanspeak with him at once. "

Kay had been leading Cuthbert along a passage with the familiarityof a friend of the house, whilst the serving man barred the door, and answered somewhat gruffly, as though disturbed by theinterruption:

"Nay, if he is one of us, let him seek the master below. He isthere, and hard at work, and will not be best pleased at beingcalled away. I have but just come up myself. I am weary as a huntedhare and thirsty as a fish in a desert. Find my master thyself, Master Kay; I am no servant of thine. "

Kay appeared in no way astonished at this rough answer. He went onbefore without any remark, and Cuthbert, not knowing what else todo, followed. Presently they reached the head of a long flight ofstairs that seemed to descend into the very heart of the earth, andfrom below there arose strange hollow sounds--the sound of blowssteadily struck upon some hard substance; it seemed as though theywere struck upon the very rock itself. 

Greatly amazed, and wondering not a little what it could mean, Cuthbert paused at the head of this long flight, and saw hiscompanion prepare to descend; but just at that moment the sound ofblows ceased. A cry and confusion of voices arose, as if thespeakers were somewhere in the heart of the earth; and almostimmediately there dashed up the stairs a man with stained garments, bloodshot eyes, and a white, scared face, crying out in fearfulterror:

"The bell! the bell! the tolling bell! God and the Holy Saintsprotect us! It is our death knell--our death knell!"

Kay seized the man by the arm. 

"What ails you, man? what is it?" he asked, quickly and sternly;but at that moment the pale face of Robert Catesby appeared, and hewas followed by a tall bearded man of very soldierly bearing, whosaid, in calm, authoritative accents:

"I have here some holy water, blessed by the Pope himself. If we dobut sprinkle the walls with that and bid the daring fiend cease, all will be well. It is no work of God; it is a work of the devil, striving to turn us aside from our laudable and righteous purpose. Prove me if it be not so. If yon booming bell sounds again afterthis holy water has been sprinkled, then will I own that it is Godfighting against us; but if it cease after this has been sprinkled, then shall we know that heaven is on our side and only the powersof darkness against us. "

"So be it, " answered Catesby, quickly and decisively; "thou shaltmake trial of it, good Guido. I trow we shall learn by that tokenthat God is on our side. "

All this Cuthbert saw and heard, as he stood in the shadow at thetop of the stairs consumed by a burning curiosity. Something hadoccurred of such overwhelming interest as to obliterate even fromKay's mind for the moment the errand on which he had come, and hispresence in the house at this moment awoke no question amongst themen assembled there, who were plainly otherwise engrossed. Allvanished again down the stairs, and Cuthbert stole after them withcautious footfalls, too eager to discover what could be so movingthem to consider what he was doing. 

It was easy to track, by their voices and the light they carried, the men who had preceded him. The long flight of stairs terminatedin a long stone passage, deadly cold; and this led in turn to agreat cellar, at the far end of which a group of seven men wasassembled. They appeared to be standing round the entrance to asmall tunnel, and this tunnel they had plainly been makingthemselves; for a number of tools for boring and picking lay about, and the faces, hands, and clothes of the assembled party plainlyindicated the nature of their toil, albeit from their speech andbearing it was plain that all were gentlemen. 

Robert Catesby was sprinkling the walls of this tunnel with somewater, using words of supplication and exorcism, and his companionsstood bare headed around him. A great hush fell upon all as thisceremony ceased, and all seemed to listen intently. 

"There is no sound; the devil hath taken flight. I knew how itwould be!" spoke the tall dark man exultantly. "And now, comrades, to work again, for we have heard the last of our knell tonight. Nopowers of darkness can stand before the charm of His Holiness'spower. "

With an air of relief and alacrity the gentlemen seized theirtools, and again the hollow or ringing sounds commenced to sound inthat dim place; but Kay had plucked Robert Catesby by the sleeve, and was whispering some words in his ear. 

Catesby turned quickly round, made a few strides towards thestaircase, and then catching sight of Cuthbert, stopped short, andseized Kay by the arm. 

"Fool!" he cried, in a low, hissing tone, "what possessed you tobring him here? We are undone!"

"Nay, but he knows; he is one of us. "

"He is not; it is a lie! If he said so, he is a foul spy!"

And then striding up to Cuthbert with eyes that gleamedmurderously, he looked into the youth's face, and suddenly the furydied out of his own. 

"Why, it is Cuthbert Trevlyn! Good luck to you, good youth! I hadfeared I know not what. But thou art stanch and true; thou art achip of the old block. If it had to be some one, better thee thanany other. Boy, thou hast seen a sight tonight that must haveawakened thy curiosity. Swear to secrecy--swear to revealnothing--and I will tell thee all. "

"Nay, tell me nothing, " answered Cuthbert firmly; "I love notmysteries. I would fain forget all I have heard and seen. Let metell thee of Father Urban--let me give thee his letters; but tellme naught in return. I will not know--I will not. "

Cuthbert spoke with sudden vehemence. He and Catesby were mountingthe stairs together. As they reached the dim vestibule above, Catesby took him by the arm and looked him searchingly in the face, as he said:

"Maybe thou art in the right. It may be better so. But thou mustswear one thing ere thou goest hence, and that is--to reveal to noliving soul what thou hast seen this night. Know, boy, that if thouwilt not swear this--"

But Cuthbert shook himself free, and looked proudly at hisinterlocutor. 

"Nay, threaten me not, good Master Catesby, else I may be moved todefy thee and thy power. For the goodwill I bear thee, and for thatI loathe and abhor those craven souls who will betray their fellowmen to prison and death, I will give thee my word of honour to holdsacred all that I have seen and heard in this house this night. Iknow not what it means, nor do I desire to know. Be it for good orbe it for ill, it is thy secret, not mine, and with me it is safe. But I will not be threatened nor coerced--no, not by any man. WhatI will not give for friendship and brotherly love, no man shallwrest from me through fear. "

Catesby looked at the lad with his flashing eyes and proudly-heldhead, and a smile illuminated his features. Whether or not hiscompanions would have been satisfied with this pledge, he himselfwas content, and with a kindly grip of the hand he said:

"Enough, boy, enough! I like thy spirit, and I ask thy pardon fordreaming of treating thee in any unworthy fashion. And now let ustalk of Father Urban and what has befallen him; and give to methese papers of which thou hast been such a careful custodian. "

An hour later, Cuthbert's wherry floated out into midstream oncemore, and swiftly sped along the dark water, propelled by a pair ofstrong young arms. Could any have seen the rower's face, it wouldhave been seen to be grave and rather pale. The lights of thebridge beginning to gleam ahead of him as he looked over hisshoulder, Cuthbert muttered to himself:

"This has been a strange night's work, and there be more in allthan I can rightly understand. Pray Heaven I be not furtherentangled in such mysteries and secrets! Well did the wise womanbid me beware of underground cellars. Would I had never been intothat ill place this night!"

Chapter 12: May Day In The Forest. 

"Canst put up with my company, good Cuthbert? for I have a mind totravel with thee. "

Cuthbert turned quickly as these words fell upon his ear, and foundhimself face to face with a gay-looking youth dressed all inforester's green, whom at first he took for a stranger, till theyoung man with a laugh removed his wide-brimmed hat, so that theevening light fell full upon his handsome boyish face; and Cuthbertexclaimed, with a start of surprise:

"Verily, it is Lord Culverhouse!"

"And thy very good cousin, Cuthbert Trevlyn, " said the Viscount, ashe linked his arm within that of his would-be comrade. "So letthere be no more ceremony betwixt thee and me; for we are both bentupon a merry time in the forest, and we will fare forth thithertogether as brothers and friends. "

"With all my heart, " answered Cuthbert warmly; for he lovedcompanionship, and greatly liked what he had seen of Kate's cousinand lover, the gay and handsome Lord Culverhouse. He had been onceor twice recently to the great house in the Strand, generallyrowing himself up to the garden steps, and sometimes taking theViscount upon the river with him. In this way they had struck up acertain friendliness and intimacy; and Cuthbert had spoken to LordCulverhouse of his proposed visit to the forest on May Day, although without explaining to him the real and chief object ofthat journey. Culverhouse had not at the time expressed any desireto accompany him, though he had asked a good many questionsrespecting the forest and the forest fetes held upon that day. Cuthbert had observed an unwonted animation in his eyes as he haddone so; but nothing in the young nobleman's manner had preparedhim for this freak on his part, and he had actually failed at thefirst moment to recognize this fanciful figure in its smartforester's dress when first saluted by the wearer. But he was gladenough of the meeting, and the proposition of travelling in companywas very welcome, though he still had one qualm to set at rest. 

"I only go on foot, my lord. Doubtless you have a horse in waiting, and will soon outride me. "

"A horse! not I. I have neither beast nor man in waiting. I travelalone and on foot, and for the nonce am no more Lord Culverhouse, but only Rupert de Grey--thy trusty comrade Rupert--and a would-befollower of bold Robin Hood, did he but hold his court with hismerry, merry men in the free forest now. See, I wear his livery. Ifeel as free as air. I marvel I never thought of such a masqueradebefore. We will have a right merry time this joyous springtide. Howlong dost thou purpose to remain in the greenwood thyself?"

"I know not, " answered Cuthbert, as the pair strode southwardtogether, quickly leaving behind the last houses of London, andstriking away in the direction of the forest whither both werebound. It was the last day in April: the soft south wind wasblowing in their faces, the trees were beginning to hang out theirtassels of tender green, the hawthorn was bursting into bloom andfilling the air with its fragrance. It was, in fact, the eve of oneof those old-fashioned May Days which seem utterly to have gone bynow, and all nature was rejoicing in the sweet exaltation of thehappy springtide, full of the promises of the golden summer tocome. 

Cuthbert's heart swelled with delight as he looked about him andfelt that the strife and bustle of the great city were at lastshaken off. In spite of the spell exercised upon him by the life ofLondon, he had for some weeks been pining like a caged bird for thefreedom of the country again, the vault of the sky alone above him, the songs of the birds in his ears. The spring had brought to himyearnings and desires which he scarcely understood, and latterly hehad been counting the days which must pass ere he should findhimself in the forest once again. 

In his uncle's house matters were growing a little strained. MartinHolt undoubtedly suspected something of the matter betwixt him andCherry, and as plainly disapproved. He looked upon Cherry aspromised to her cousin Jacob, and doubtless he thought the steady, plodding, slow-witted son of the house of Dyson a far safer husbandfor his feather-brained youngest than handsome Cuthbert Trevlyn, with his gentler birth, his quick and keen intelligence, and hisversatile, inquiring mind, which was always inclining him to meddlein matters better left alone, and to judge for himself with anindependence that was perilous in times like these. Not that MartinHolt was himself averse to independence of judgment, rather thereverse; but he knew the dangers besetting the path of those whowere resolved to think and judge for themselves, and he would fainhave seen his youngest and dearest child safely made over to thecare of one who would be content to go through life without askingtroublesome questions or intermeddling with matters of danger anddifficulty, and would conform to all laws, civil and religious, without a qualm, recognizing the King's will as supreme in allmatters, temporal and spiritual, without a doubt or a scruple. Cherry would be safe with Jacob, that was Martin's feeling, whilstwith Cuthbert he could have no such security. Cuthbert had stillhis way to make in the world, and it had not yet appeared that hewould be of any use in business matters. He was clever with hispen. He was a good scholar, and had been able to make himselfuseful to his uncle in a number of small matters where hisquickness and sharp wits had room to work. He was also of no smalluse in the matter of the building and fitting up of the new sloop, in which he took such keen interest. He would go over every bit ofthe work, comparing it with what he saw in other vessels, andlearning quickly to distinguish good workmanship from bad. Hebecame so ready of resource and suggestion when any smalldifficulty occurred, that both Martin Holt and Abraham Dysonlearned to think exceedingly well of his abilities, and employedhim largely in matters where quickness of observation andapprehension was wanted. But for all that, and despite the factthat he had earned some considerable sum of money (as he reckonedit) during the winter and spring months, he had shown no greatdesire to settle himself down to any steady occupation or trade, and neither of the elder men saw any opening for him that shouldgive him regular and permanent occupation. 

"He has too much of the gay gallant about him for my taste, "Abraham would say. "He is more Trevlyn than Holt; and some folkssay more Wyvern than Trevlyn. Be that as it may, he is a gentlemanto the fingertips; and one might as well try to tame an eagle asset him down to the round of work that comes natural to lads likeJacob. "

And Martin Holt would nod assent, feeling that there was somethingabout his sister's son that would never assimilate with the life ofa merchant tradesman. He liked his nephew, and thought well of himin many ways; but he was not sorry to receive his request for leaveto revisit his old haunts and his own kindred when the long springdays were upon the world; and he bid the lad please himself for thefuture, and return or not as he best liked. There was the gold tobe given up to him when he should make formal claim for it. Martinhad satisfied himself by now that he was worthy to be intrustedwith it; but Cuthbert intended Petronella to have the bulk of that, so that she might wed Philip, if they were both inclined that way. As for himself, he was still bent on finding the lost treasure ofTrevlyn, and he had vowed the whole of the long summer to thesearch, resolved that he would find it, be the perils andperplexities what they might. 

So that although he saw by his uncle's manner that he was notespecially anxious to see him back soon, and shrewdly guessed thatthis was in part on Cherry's account, he did not let the matterdistress him. When good Jacob had had his turn, and had failed inwinning Cherry's hand, and when he himself should return laden withthe treasure which should enable him to place his little love in anest in all ways worthy of her, surely then his uncle would giveher up to him without opposition. This was how he spoke to Cherry, comforting her as the hour for his departure drew near, and vowingeternal constancy and unchanging love. He was beginning to feelthat he was doing his cause more harm than good by lingering on, unable to declare himself, yet betraying himself, as he often felt, in a hundred little nameless ways. It would be better for all whenthe wrench was finally made; and neither he nor Cherry doubted fora moment that he would be successful in his search, and would comeriding up at last to the house on the bridge, the gayest of gaygallants, to claim Cherry in the sight of all, lifting her upon hishorse, and riding away with her in the fashion of the bold knightsof old, whose deeds of prowess they both so greatly admired. 

It was this brilliant prospect of glory to come which consoledCherry and reconciled her to the parting of the present. Hard as itwould be to live without Cuthbert, she would strive to do so in thethought that he would come again ere long and take her away forever from the life which was becoming odious to her, she scarceknew why. So they had parted in hope as well as in sorrow, andCuthbert felt all his elasticity of spirit returning to him as hestrode along by his unexpected comrade's side. 

"I know not how long I shall be absent from London, " he said inanswer to Culverhouse's question. "There be many things dependingon that. I have set myself a task, and I know not how long a timeit will take to accomplish. And you, my good lord, how goes it withyou? Are you about to visit Trevlyn Chase, as you will be thusnear, and see your kinsfolks there?"

"Call me not good lord, call me Rupert, as I have bidden theebefore!" was the quick response, as a flush dyed for the moment thesmooth fair cheek of the Viscount. "Cuthbert, since we are totravel together, I must needs tell thee my secret. I am not boundfor Trevlyn Chase. My father has forbidden me for the nonce tovisit there, not for any ill will he bears our kinsfolk, but--butthat--"

"But that he fears the bright eyes of Mistress Kate, and hopes bykeeping you apart to help thee to forget? Is it not so, Rupert?"

"Marry, thou hast well guessed. Or has it been no guess? Hast thouheard aught?"

"My cousin Kate herself told me somewhat of it, " answered Cuthbert;"but she laughed to scorn the artifice. She is not made of thestuff that forgets. "

"Heaven's blessing be upon her for a true-hearted maiden!" criedCulverhouse, with a lover's easily-stirred enthusiasm. "Cuthbert, since thou knowest so much, thou shalt know more. I have made shiftto write to Kate about this purpose of mine to visit the forestglades on blithe May Day; and she has sent me a little missive, fresh and sweet and dainty like herself, to tell me that she willride forth herself into the forest that day, and giving the slip toher sisters or servants, or any who may accompany her, will meet mewithout fail in a certain dell that doubtless I shall find from thedirections she gives. There is a giant yew tree in the midst thatwould hide six men in its hollow trunk, and a laughing streamletcircles well-nigh round it. She tells me it has got the name ofOberon's Horseshoe. "

"I know the place well, " answered Cuthbert. "I can guide theethither. So Mistress Kate will meet thee there! It is like her. Shehas a daring spirit. I would I could help her to her dowry. "

"Her dowry! thou!" echoed Culverhouse in surprise; and then as theywalked onwards through the dewy night, Cuthbert could not but tella little of his purpose to the comrade who had intrusted him withhis own secret; and Culverhouse listened with the greatestinterest, albeit without quite the same sanguine hope of successthat Cuthbert himself entertained. Still, he was of opinion that apatient search and inquiry instituted by an obscure lad likeCuthbert, used to rough ways and the life of the forest, would bemore likely to succeed than one set on foot by any person betterknown. If the old tradition were true that the gipsies had hiddenthe gold again in spite, it was possible that after this lapse oftime the old hatred would have died out, and that somebody might bewilling to betray the precious secret for a sufficient reward. Atany rate Cuthbert's idea of living in the forest and cultivatingand studying these strange folk was amply worth a trial. If hisquest succeeded, the whole Trevlyn family would be once morewealthy and prosperous; if not, no harm would have been done, andthe youth would have enjoyed his free life and new experiencesafter the winter spent in the confinement of the great city. 

The travellers walked on through the twilight and until long aftermoonrise. They had put a good twelve miles between them and Londonbefore they talked of halting. They had no intention of seekingshelter for the night in any wayside hostelry. A hollow tree wouldgive them all the cover they needed, and both had brought with themsuch supply of provision as would render them independent of chancehospitality for twenty-four hours at least. 

Cuthbert's quick eyes soon sought out the sort of resting placethey desired--a great oak, into whose hollowed trunk the deadleaves had drifted, and were now piled up into a soft heap. Lyingluxuriously upon this easy couch, the two travellers took suchrefreshment as each needed; and as Cuthbert saw in the distancebefore them the bold outlines of the high ground, part of whichwent by the name of Hammerton Heath, he recounted to his companionhis adventure there the November previous, and by what means he hadsaved his purse from the hands of the robbers. 

Culverhouse listened to the story, and when it was done he said:

"Take heed, good Cuthbert, that thou dost not meet with a worsemischance than the loss of thy purse. I would sooner have minefilched from me by freebooters than owe aught to Robert Catesbythat could give him any claim upon me. "

Cuthbert looked up quickly. Since that night when he had deliveredthe papers to Catesby, and had seen and heard so much that wasmysterious, he had gradually let the strange incident slip from hismemory. Nothing had occurred to recall it, or to render him in anywise uneasy. He had seen nothing of Catesby or his companions. Father Urban had said that they had all dispersed into the country. He himself shortly took leave of the Coles, and was taken off by aboat on a dark night to reach a vessel about to start for Spain. The whole incident seemed more like a dream than a reality now; andCuthbert's vague sense of uneasiness had by this time died quiteaway. 

"What dost thou mean?" he asked, as the Viscount's words fell onhis ear. 

"No more than this, that yon Catesby is a dangerous man. I knownaught against him, save that he is a Papist of the type I likenot--a plotting, designing, desperate type, that ofttimes injurethemselves far more than they injure others, yet too often dragtheir friends and those who trust them to destruction withthem--and all for some wild and foolish design which they have notthe wits to carry through, and against which Heaven itself fightsto its overthrow. Have no dealings with this same Catesby, goodCuthbert; thou wilt rue it an thou dost. "

"I am not like to see him again, " answered Cuthbert slowly. "He isgone I know not whither. If men look thus darkly upon him, doubtless he will not adventure himself in London again. "

"I know not how that may be. My father hath heard disquietingrumours of late, and the name of Robert Catesby is mingled in allof them. However, he speaks little to me of matters of state. Menin high places are for ever hearing whispers and rumours, and itboots not to give over-much credence to every idle tale. Only, whatthou spakest of this Catesby recalled the matter to my mind. He isa man to fear, to avoid. He has a way with him that wins men'shearts; yet it is but the fatal fascination of the glitteringsnake, that snares the fluttering bird to its destruction. So, atleast, I have heard. "

Cuthbert made no direct reply. He would have liked to tellCulverhouse of the incident of the lonely house on the river, andthe dark cellar in which Catesby and others had been at work; buthis tongue was bound by his promise. Moreover, the hour for sleepwas at hand, and the travellers, wrapping themselves in theircloaks and stretching their limbs upon their soft couch, were soonlost in the land of dreams. 

The following morning dawned as fair and clear and bright as heartcould wish. It was just such a May Day as one pictures in readingof those old-time festivities incident to that joyous season. Andthe forest that day was alive with holiday makers and rustic folks, enjoying themselves to the full in all the green glades and boskydells. Culverhouse and Cuthbert found it hard to push along upontheir way into the heart of the forest, so attractive were thescenes enacted in every little clearing that had become the site ofa tiny hamlet or village, so full of hospitality to wayfarers wasevery house they passed, and so merry were the dances being footedon the greensward, in which every passer by was expected to take apart. 

Culverhouse, in his green forester's dress, daintily faced withsilver, a silver hunting horn slung round his neck, was an objectof universal admiration, and the fact that he was plainly somewealthy gentleman masquerading and playing a part did not in anyway detract from the interest his appearance excited. His merry, courteous ways and well-turned compliments won the hearts ofmaidens and matrons alike, whilst his deft and elegant dancing wasthe admiration of all who watched; and he was besought on all handsto stay, and found no small difficulty in pursuing his way into theforest itself. 

However, they had made an early start, and as they drew near to thedenser part of the wood interruptions became less frequent, andpresently ceased altogether. Cuthbert found a track he knew whichled straight to the trysting place with Kate; and though from timeto time the travellers heard distant sounds of mirth and revelryproceeding from the right hand or the left, they did not come uponany groups of gipsies or freebooters, who were doubtless enjoyingthe day after their own fashion, and the two pursued their wayrapidly and without molestation. 

"This is the place, " said Cuthbert at length, as the underwood grewthick and tangled and the path became almost lost. "And see, yonderis a lady's palfrey tethered to a tree. Mistress Kate is the firstat the tryst. Go down thither to her, and I will wait here andguard her steed; for there be many afoot in the forest this day, and all may not be so bent on pleasure taking that they will notwander about in search of gain, and a fair palfrey like yon wouldbe no small prize. "

Culverhouse readily consented to this arrangement, and for sometime Cuthbert was left to a solitary enjoyment of the forest. Hecaressed the horse, which responded with great gentleness andgoodwill; and then he lay down in luxurious ease, his hands crossedbehind his head, his face turned upwards towards the clear blue ofthe sunny sky, seen through the delicate tracery of the burstingbuds of elm and beech. It was a perfect feast for eye and ear tolie thus in the forest, listening to the songs of the birds, andwatching the play of light and shadow. Fresh from the roar and thebustle of the city, Cuthbert enjoyed it as a thirsty traveller inthe desert enjoys a draught of clear cold water from a spring. Hewas almost sorry when at last the sound of voices warned him thatthe lovers' stolen interview was at an end, and that they wereapproaching him at last. 

Kate's bright face was all alight with happiness and joy as sheappeared, holding fast to her lover's arm. She greeted Cuthbertwith the prettiest air of cousinly affection, asked of himself andhis welfare with undisguised interest, and then told them of somerustic sports being held at a village only three miles distant, andbegged Culverhouse to take her to see the spectacle. She had sether heart upon it all day, and there would be no danger of herbeing seen in the crowd sure to be assembled there to witness thesights. Her sisters had no love for such shows, and nobody would begreatly troubled at her hardihood in escaping from the escort ofher servants. She was always doing the like, and no harm had everbefallen her. Her father was wont to call her his Madcap, and hermother sometimes chided, and feared she would come to ill by herwild freaks; but she had always turned up safe and sound, and herindependent ways had almost ceased to excite comment or uneasiness. On May Day, when all the world was abroad and in good humour, theywould trouble still less on her account. Kate had no fear of beingovertaken and brought back, and had set her heart on going withCulverhouse to this village fete and fair. She had heard much ofit, yet had never seen it. Sure this was the very day on which togo. 

Culverhouse would have gone to the moon with her had she askedit--or would at least have striven to do so--and his assent wascordially given. Cuthbert knew the place well; and Kate was quicklymounted on the palfrey, Culverhouse walking at her bridle-rein, whilst Cuthbert walked on ahead to choose the safest paths, andwarn them of any peril in the road. He could hear scraps oflover-like dialogue, that sent his heart back to Cherry, and madehim long to have her beside him; but that being impossible, he gavehimself up to the enjoyment of the present, and found pleasure ineverything about him. 

He had been before to this gay fair, held every May Day, to whichall the rustic folks from far and near flocked with one accord. Heknew well the look of the tents and booths, the bright dresses ofthe women, the feats of skill and strength carried on between theyounger men, the noise, the merriment, the revelry that towardssundown became almost an orgie. 

But in the bright noon-day light all was at its best. Kate wasdelighted with everything, especially with the May Queen upon herthrone, surrounded by her attendant maidens in their white holidaydresses, with their huge posies in their hands. This was the placefor love making, and it attracted the lovers not a little. Cuthbert, who undertook to tie up the horse in some safe place, andthen wandered alone through the shifting throng, found them stillupon the green when he rejoined them after his ramble. Plainlythere was something of interest greater than before going on inthis quarter. People were flocking to the green, laughing, chattering, and questioning. Blushing girls were being led along bytheir ardent swains; some were protesting, others laughing. Cuthbert could not make out what it was all about, and presentlyasked a countryman why the folks were all in such a coil. 

"Why? because the priest has come, and all who will may be wed byhim. He comes like this every May Day, and he stands in the churchporch, and he weds all who come to him for a silver sixpence, andasks no questions. Half our folks are so wed year by year, forthere be no priest or parson here this many years, not since thelast one was hunted to death by good Queen Bess--Heaven rest hersoul! The church is well nigh falling to pieces as it stands; butthe porch is the best part of it, and the priest who comes says itis consecrated ground, and so he can use it for his weddings. Thatis what the coil is about, young sir. You be a stranger in theseparts, I take it?"

Cuthbert was not quite a stranger, but he had never heard before ofthese weddings. 

"Are they lawfully wed whom he marries?" he asked; but the man onlyshook his head. 

"Nay, as for that I know naught, nor do any of the folks hereaboutsneither. But he is a priest, and he says the right words, and joinstheir hands and calls them man and wife. No man can do more so faras my poor wits tell me. Most of our young folks--ay, and some ofthe old ones too--have been married that fashion, and I can't seethat there is aught amiss with them. They be as happy andcomfortable as other folks. "

Cuthbert moved on with the interested crowd to see these haphazardweddings. It was plain that the marrying of a number of youngcouples was looked upon as part of the May Day sports. It was apretty enough sight to see some of the flower-crowned blushinggirls in their festal white, led along by their gaily-bedeckedswains in the direction of the church, which was hard by the openvillage green. Some other importunate youths were eagerly pleadingtheir cause, and striving to drag their mistresses to the nuptialaltar amid the laughter and encouragement of the bystanders. Cuthbert moved along in search of his companions, greatly amused byall he saw and heard; and presently he caught sight of Kate andCulverhouse standing together close beside the church, half hiddenwithin a small embrasure enclosed between two buttresses. Her facewas covered with brilliant blushes, whilst he had hold of her hand, and seemed to be pleading with her with impassioned earnestness. AsCuthbert approached he heard these words:

"Nay, sweetest Kate, why hold back? Have we not loved each otherfaithfully and long? Why dost thou fear?"

"O Culverhouse, methinks it would be wrong. How can we know thatsuch wedlock would be lawful? Methinks my mother would break herheart did she think the knot had been thus loosely tied. "

"Nay, but, Kate, thou scarce takest my meaning as yet. This pledgegiven betwixt us before yon priest would be to us but the betrothaltroth plight. I doubt myself whether such wedlock would be lawful;nor would I dare to call thee my wife did none but he tie the knot. But listen, sweet coz: if we go before him and thus plight ourtroth and join our hands together, none will dare to bid us wedanother. It will be too solemn a pledge to be lightly broken. Menthink gravely of such matters as solemn betrothal, and in days tocome if they should urge upon thee or me to wed with another, wehave but to tell of what was done this day, and they will cease tostrive to come between us more. 

"O sweetest mistress, fairest Kate, let us not part today withoutsome pledge of mutual faith and constancy! Let me hold this littlehand and place my token on thy finger; then be the time of waitingnever so long, I shall know that at last I may call thee minebefore all the world!"

Kate was quivering, blushing, trembling with excitement, though notwith fear; for she loved Culverhouse too completely to feel aughtbut the most perfect confidence in him and his honour and faith. 

"If only I could be sure it was not wrong!" she faltered. 

"Wrong to plight thy hand, when thy heart is long since given?" heasked, with tender playfulness. "Where can the wrong be there?"

"I know not. I would fain be altogether thine. But what would myfather and mother say?"

It was plain already that she was yielding. Culverhouse drew hertenderly towards him. 

"Nay, sweet coz, there be times when the claim of the parent mustgive place to the closer claim of the lover, the husband. Does notScripture itself tell us as much? Trust me, I speak for our bestgood. Let us but go together before this priest and speak the wordsthat, said in church, would make us man and wife, and none willdare to keep us apart for ever, or bid us wed with another. Suchwords must be binding upon the soul, be the legal bond little ormuch. It is hard to say what the force of such a pledge may be; butwell I know that neither my father nor thine would dare to try tobreak it, once they were told how and when it had been made. Thouwilt be mine for ever, Kate, an thou wilt do this thing. "

The temptation was too great to be resisted. To plight her troththus to Culverhouse, in a fashion which might not be wholly ignoredor set aside, was a thing but too congenial to the daring andardent temperament of the girl. With but a few more quivers ofhesitation she let herself be persuaded; and Culverhouse, turninground with a radiant smile of triumph, saw that Cuthbert wasstanding beside them, sympathy and interest written upon his face. 

"Thou wilt be witness to our espousals, good cousin, " he saidgaily, as he led his betrothed to the porch, where the crowd madeway for them right and left, seeing well the purpose for whichthese gentlefolks had come. It pleased them mightily that this fineyoung forester with his air of noble birth, and this high-bornmaiden in her costly riding dress, should condescend to come beforethe priest here in their own little church porch, and plight theirtroth as their own young folks were doing. 

A hush of eager expectation fell upon the crowd as Culverhouse ledhis betrothed love before the priest; and when the ring, boughtfrom an old peddler who always attended at such times and foundready sale for his wares, was placed on Kate's slim finger, amurmur of applause and sympathy ran through the crowd, and Katequivered from head to foot at the thought of her own daring. 

The thing was done. She and Culverhouse had plighted themselves ina fashion solemn enough to hinder any person from trying to makelight of their betrothal. Right or wrong, the deed was done, andneither looked as though he or she wished the words unsaid. 

But Kate dared not linger longer. Cuthbert fetched her palfrey, andCulverhouse lifted her to the saddle; and hiring a steed from afarmer for a brief hour, promising to bring it back in time for thegood man to jog home again at dusk, the newly-plighted pair rodeoff into the forest together, he promising to see her to withinsight of her own home before taking a last adieu. 

Cuthbert stood looking after them with a smile on his lips. 

"Now, if Heaven will but speed my quest and give me happy success, I trow those twain may yet be wed again, no man saying them nay;for if sweet Mistress Kate can but bring with her the dower thetreasure will afford, none will forbid the union: she will bewelcomed by Lord Andover as a fitting wife for his son and heir!"

Chapter 13: The Gipsy's Tryst. 

"This is surely the spot. Methinks she will not fail me. Moonrisewas the hour she named. I will wait with what patience I may tillshe comes to keep the tryst. "

So said Cuthbert to himself as, at the close of that long andvaried day, he stood at the mouth of a natural cave, half hidden bytangled undergrowth, which had been appointed months ago by Joannathe gipsy as the place where on May Day evening she would meet him, and tell him more of the matter so near to his heart. 

Culverhouse and he had parted company when the former had escortedtowards her home the lady of his choice, to whom his troth had beenso solemnly plighted a short while before. The young Viscount wasgoing to make his way rapidly to London again; but Cuthbertpurposed a long stay in the forest. The search for the losttreasure might be a matter of weeks, possibly of months. But he wasvery well resolved not to give it up until the search had beenpursued with unabated zeal to the last extremity, and he himselfwas fully satisfied as to its fate. Nothing but actual knowledgethat it had been dissipated and dispersed should induce him toabandon the quest. 

Standing at the mouth of the cave, leaning against the rocky wall, and enjoying the deep solitude of the forest and its tranquilstillness, Cuthbert revolved many matters in his mind, and itseemed more certain than ever that the finding of the treasurealone could save him and many that he loved from manifolddifficulties and perplexities. How that treasure would smooth thepath and bring happiness and ease to the Trevlyn family! Surely itwas well worth a more vigorous search than had long been made!Cuthbert took from his pocket the bit of parchment containing themystic words of the wise woman, or her familiar spirit, and perusedthem again and again, albeit he knew them well nigh by heart. 

"Thou art here! It is well. "

Cuthbert started at the sound of the rich, deep tones, and foundhimself confronted by the queenly-looking gipsy. He had not heardher approach. She seemed to have risen from the very ground at hisfeet. But he was scarcely surprised. She had the air of one whocould come and go at will even upon the wings of the wind. 

"I am here, " answered Cuthbert, making a courteous salutation. "Ithank thee that thou hast not forgotten the tryst. "

"I never forget aught, least of all a promise, " answered Joanna, with her queenly air of dignity. "I come to strive to do my shareto atone a wrong and render restitution where it is due. What paperis that, boy, that thou studiest with such care?"

Cuthbert handed her the scrap of parchment. He did not know if shewould have learning to decipher it; but the writing appeared tohave no difficulties for her. She read the words in the clear lightof the May evening, albeit the sun had set and the crescent moonwas hanging like a silver lamp in the sky; and as she did so shestarted slightly, and fixed a keenly penetrating glance uponCuthbert. 

"Where didst thou get these lines, boy?"

"They were given me by a wise woman, whom I consulted to see if shecould aid me in this matter. "

"A wise woman! And where didst thou find her?"

"In London town, where she practises her arts, and many come untoher by secret. She is veritably that which she professes, for shetold me the object of my quest ere I had told mine errand to her. "

"But thou hadst told her thy name?"

"Yes, verily, I had done that. "

"And knowing that, she divined all. Verily thou hast seen Estherthe witch! And this was all she knew--this was all she knew!"

Joanna's head was bent over the parchment. Her eyes were full offire. Her words seemed addressed rather to herself than toCuthbert, and they excited his ardent curiosity. 

"And who is Esther? and dost thou know her? thou speakest as ifthou didst. "

"All of us forest gipsies know Esther well. She is one of us, though she has left the forest to dwell in cities. According to thelanguage of men, she is my aunt. She is sister to old Miriam, whomthou sawest in the forest mill, and who would have done thee todeath an I had not interposed to save thee. And Miriam is mymother, albeit I am her queen, and may impose my will on her. "

"And does she know aught of the lost treasure?" asked Cuthbert, with eager impatience. 

"I had hoped she did, " answered Joanna slowly, her eyes still benton the paper. "I have seen her myself since I saw thee last. I havespoken with her on this same matter. I could not draw from her whatI strove to do; but I see now that I prepared the way, and thatwhen thou didst go by chance to her, she was ready for thee. But ifthis is all she knows, it goes not far. Still it may help--it mayhelp. In a tangled web, no one may say which will be the threadwhich patiently followed may unravel the skein. "

"Belike she knows more than she would say, " suggested Cuthbertquickly. "If she can look into the future, sure she may look intothe past likewise--"

But Joanna stopped him by a strange gesture. 

"Peace, foolish boy! Thinkest thou if gipsy lore could unravel theriddle, that it had not long ago become known to me? We have ourgifts, our powers, our arts, and well we know how to use them be itfor good or ill. But we know full well what the limits are. And ifmen know it not, it is more their blindness than our skill thatkeeps them in ignorance. And if they give us more praise and wonderthan we merit, do they not also give us hatred and enmity in likemeed? Have we not gone through fire and sword when men have risenup against us and called us sorcerers? Have we not suffered for ourreputation; and do we not therefore deserve to wear it with whathonour we may?"

The woman spoke with a strange mixture of bitterness, earnestness, and scorn--scorn, as it seemed, almost of herself and of her tribe, yet a scorn so proudly worn that it scarce seemed other than a markof distinction to the wearer. Cuthbert listened in amaze andbewilderment. It was all so different from what he had looked for. He had hoped to consult an oracle, to learn hidden secrets of whichthe gipsies had cognizance through their mysterious gifts; and, behold, he was almost told that these same gifts were little morethan the idle imagining of superstitious and ignorant men. 

"Then canst thou tell me nothing?" he asked. 

"I can tell thee much, " was the steady answer, "albeit not all thatthou wouldst know; that will still be thine to track out withpatience and care. But these lines may help; they may contain aclue. I wonder how and where Esther learned them! But come withinthe cave. The evening air grows chill, and I and thou have bothwalked far, and stand in need of refreshment. All is ready for uswithin. Come; I will lead the way. "

Joanna stepped on before, and Cuthbert followed. He had thought thecave a small and shallow place before, but now he discovered thatthis shallow cavity in the rock was but the antechamber, as itwere, to a larger cavern, where twenty men might sit or lie atease; and the entrance to this larger place was through a passageso narrow and low that none who did not know the secret would thinkit possible to traverse it. 

Cuthbert wondered if he were letting himself be taken in a trap ashe followed the gipsy through this narrow way; but he trustedJoanna with the confidence of instinct which is seldom deceived, and presently felt that they had emerged into some larger and widerplace. In a few moments the gipsy had produced a light, and theproportions of the larger cavern became visible. It was a vaultedplace that had been hollowed out of the ruddy sandstone either bysome freak of nature or by the device of men, and had plainly beenadapted by the wandering gipsy tribes as a place of refuge andresort. There were several rude pieces of furniture about--a fewpallet beds, some benches, and a table. On this table was nowspread the wherewithal for a modest repast--some cold venison, somewheaten bread, a piece of cheese, and a flagon of wine. Cuthbert, who had fared but scantily all that day, was ready enough to obeythe gipsy's hospitable invitation, and seated himself at the board. She helped him liberally to all that was there, but appeared towant nothing herself; and whilst Cuthbert satisfied his hunger shecommenced the tale, part of which in its bare outline was alreadyknown to him. 

"Thou knowest the story of the witch burned on the village common, nigh to Trevlyn Chase, by the order of the knight then ruling inthat house? Dost know too that that woman was my grandam, themother of Miriam and of Esther?"

"I knew that not, " answered Cuthbert. 

"But so it was, " pursued Joanna, her big dark eyes fixed upon theflickering flame of the lamp she had kindled. "I never saw mygrandam myself; she had met her doom before I saw the light. Yet Ihave heard the tale so ofttimes told that methinks I see myself thethreatening crowd hooting the old woman to her fiery death, thestern knight and his servants watching that the cruel law wascarried out, and the gipsy tribe hanging on the outskirts of thewood, yet not daring to adventure themselves into the midst of theinfuriated villagers, watching all, and treasuring up the cursesand maledictions poured upon the proud head of Sir Richard as theold woman went to her death. "

"A cruel death, in all truth, " said Cuthbert. "Yet why hold SirRichard in fault? He was not the maker of that law; he was but theinstrument used for its enforcement, the magistrate bound to seethe will of the sovereign performed. Most like he could not helphimself, were his heart never so pitiful. I trow the Trevlyns havealways done their duty; yet I misdoubt me if by nature they havebeen sterner or more cruel than other men. "

A faint smile flickered round the lips of the gipsy. She went onwith her story without heeding this plea. 

"They had made shift to see her once before her death--my mother, my father, and Esther with them. Upon those three she had laid asolemn charge--a charge to be handed down to their children, andpassed throughout all the tribe--a charge of deadly hatred to allthat bore the name of Trevlyn--a charge to deal them one day someterrible blow in vengeance for her death, a vengeance that shouldbe felt to the third and fourth generation. "

"I have heard somewhat of that, " said Cuthbert. 

"Ay, the old woman raved out her curses in the hearing of all asshe was fastened to the stake and the flames leaped about her. Allheard and many treasured up those words, and hence the traditionalways in men's mouths that the treasure of Trevlyn was filched bythe gipsy folks in fulfilment of that curse. But now another word. My grandam laid another charge upon the tribe and all who claimedkindred with her; and that charge was that all should give lovingand watchful care and tender service to the house of Wyvern; thatall bearing that name should be the especial care of thegipsies--they and their children after them, whether bearing theold name or not. The Wyverns had been true friends to the gipsyfolk, had protected them in many an hour of peril, had spoken themgently and kindly when all men else spoke ill of them, had giventhem food and shelter and a place to live in; and to my grandam hadgiven a home and sanctuary one bitter winter's night, when, pursuedby foes who strove then to get her into their hands and do her todeath, she flung herself upon their charity, and received a welcomeand a home in her hour of peril and sore need. It was beneath theroof of the Wyverns that Esther first saw the light; and ingratitude for their many acts of charity and kindness my grandam, ere she died, laid instructions on all who owned her sway that theWyverns and all descended from them should be sacred to thegipsies--watched over and guarded from all ill. "

"Ah!" said Cuthbert, drawing a long breath; "and shortly after thata Wyvern wedded with this same Sir Richard. "

"Ay, and that but just one short month before his house was to havebeen burned about his head, and he himself slain had he come forthalive. All the plans were laid, and it was to be done so soon as heshould return to the Chase after long absence. Long Robin hadplanned it all, and he had a head as clever and a will as firm asany man that ever lived. He had thought of all--he had everythingin order; and then came the news that the knight had wed withIsabel Wyvern, the tenderest, the sweetest, the gentlest maidenthat ever drew breath; and when they knew that, even Long Robinknew that no hand could thenceforward be raised against theknight. "

"Long Robin--who is he?" questioned Cuthbert eagerly. 

"He is Miriam's husband--my father, " answered Joanna, a strangeshadow passing across her face. 

"And does he yet live?"

The gipsy paused and hesitated. 

"Ask any other member of the tribe, and they will tell thee that hedoes; but for me, I do not know, I cannot tell. "

Cuthbert looked at her in amaze. 

"Not know, and he thy father!"

A curious smile crossed her face. 

"We think little of such ties amongst the gipsy folk. The tiebetwixt us all is stronger than the simple one of blood. We are allof one race--of one stock; that is enough for us. The lesser isswallowed up of the greater. "

"But thy mother lives; she must know?"

Joanna's dark eyes glowed strangely. 

"Ay, she verily must know; but will she tell what she knows? If itbe as I suspect, she must be in the plot. "

"What plot?" asked Cuthbert, beginning to feel bewildered with allthis intricacy of mystery. 

"Thou hadst better hear my story to the end, " answered Joanna witha slight smile; "then thou wilt better comprehend. Listen to me, and ask thy questions when I have done. "

"Speak on, then, " said Cuthbert, glad enough to hold his peace; "Iwill give good heed to all thou sayest. "

And Joanna continued her tale. 

"Sir Richard, wedded to Isabel Wyvern, might no longer be the markfor the gipsy's curse. Esther was then queen of the tribe, and withher, love for the Wyverns far outweighed hatred towards theTrevlyns. She gave it out that no hair of his head should be hurt;the vengeance must wait. If it were to be carried out, it must beupon another generation. So said the queen, and none dared openlylift the voice against her; but there were angry mutterings andmurmurings in the tribe, and none were more wroth at this decreethan Miriam and Long Robin. "

"Her sister and that sister's husband. "

"Ay. Long Robin was the head of the tribe, and loved not to yieldto the sway of a woman; but amongst us there has always been aqueen, and he was powerless to hinder the rest from owning Esther'srule. But he and Miriam withdrew in wrathful indignation for a timefrom the rest of the tribe, and brooded over schemes of vengeance, and delighted themselves in every misfortune that befell the houseof Trevlyn. It was whispered by many that these two had a hand inthe death of more than one fair child. If their beasts sickened, orany mischance happened, men laid it to the door of Miriam and LongRobin. But for mine own part, I trow that they had little to dowith any of these matters. Trouble is the lot of many born intothis world. The Trevlyns had no more than their fair share oftroubles that I can see. One fine stalwart son grew up to manhood, and in time he too wedded into the house of Wyvern--married thygrandam the fair Mistress Gertrude, whose eyes thou hast, albeit inmany points a Trevlyn. "

"And what said Miriam then?"

"She liked it not well. Sullen, brooding hatred had gainedpossession of her and of Long Robin. As Esther and some of thetribe had learned to forgive Trevlyn for the sake of Wyvern, thosetwain and a few others had come to hate Wyvern for their alliancewith Trevlyn. 

"All this I have been told by Esther. I was not born till after thetreasure had been stolen--born when my mother had long ceased tolook for offspring, and had no love for the infant thrust upon hercare. I was taken from my infancy by Esther, who trained me up, with the consent of all the tribe, to take her place as their queenwhen I should have grown to womanhood. Esther loved not the rovinglife of the forest; she had other wishes for herself. She practiseddivination and astrology and many dark arts, and wished a settledplace of abode for herself when she could leave the tribe. Shebrought me up and taught me all I knew; and she has told me all sheknows about that strange night on which the treasure of Trevlyn wastaken--and lost!"

"Lost--lost by the Trevlyns truly; but surely thou dost not meanthat they who stole it lost it likewise!"

Joanna's dark eyes were fixed. She seemed to be looking backwardsto a far-distant time. Her voice was low and monotonous as sheproceeded with her tale. 

"The years had flown by since Miriam and Long Robin had dividedthemselves from the tribe; and they had long since returned, thoughstill keeping aloof in part from the rest--still forming, as itwere, a separate party of their own. Long Robin had dealings withthe robbers of the King's highway; he often accompanied them ontheir raids, he and some of the men with him. The tribe began tohave regular dealings with the freebooters, as thou hast seen. Theycome to us for shelter and for food. They divide their spoil withus from time to time. Since the hand of all men has been againstus, our hands have been raised freely against the world. Ouryounger men all go out to join the highwaymen. We are friends andbrothers, and the wronged and needy resort to us, and are madewelcome. "

Joanna threw back her proud head as though rejoicing in thislawless freedom; and then giving herself a little moment forrecollection, she returned to the main course of her narrative. 

"It was easy for us gipsies, roving hither and thither and pickingup the news from travellers on the road, to know all that was goingon about us and in the world beyond. We had scouts all over theforest. We knew everything that passed; and when the treasure wasborne in the dead of night from Trevlyn Chase, and hidden beneaththe giant oak in the forest, we knew where and wherefore it was sohidden, and the flame of vengeance long deferred leaped intoMiriam's eyes. 

"'This is our hour!' she cried; 'this the day for which we have hadlong patience! Thus can we smite the false Trevlyns, yet do them nobodily hurt; thus can we smite them, and lay no hand upon the houseof Wyvern. It is the Trevlyns that love the red gold; the grasping, covetous Trevlyns who will feel most keenly this blow! Upon thegentler spirits of the ladies the loss of wealth will fall lesskeenly. The proud men will feel it. They will gnash their teeth inimpotent fury. Our vow of vengeance will be accomplished. We shallsmite the foe by taking away from him the desire of his heart, andyet lay no hand upon any who is loved by a Wyvern. '

"And this desire after vengeance took hold of all those gathered inthe ruined mill that night, whilst into Long Robin's eyes therecrept a gleam which Esther liked not to see; for it spoke of a lustafter gold for its own sake which she had striven to quench amongsther children, and she wished not to see them enriched beyond whatwas needful for their daily wants, knowing that the possession ofgold and treasure would bring about the slackening of those bondswhich had hitherto bound them together. "

Joanna paused, and looked long into Cuthbert's attentive face. Heasked no question, and presently she continued:

"Esther laid this charge upon those who were to go forth after thetreasure: They might move it from its present resting place, andhide it somewhere in the forest, as securely as they would; but noman should lay hands upon the spoil. It should be hidden awayintact as it was found. It should belong to none, but be guarded byall; so that if the day should come when the Trevlyns should havewon the love and trust of their whilom foes, we should have thepower to make restitution to them in full. "

Cuthbert started, and his eyes gleamed beneath their dark brows;but Joanna lifted her hand and continued:

"Remember I am telling the tale as I learned it from Esther. As shespoke those words she saw a dark gleam shine in Robin's eyes--saw aglitter of rage and wrath that told her he would defy her if hedared. The rest opposed her not. The wild, free life of the foresthad not bred in them any covetous lust after gold. So long as theday brought food and raiment sufficient for their needs they askedno more. Men called them robbers, murderers, freebooters; butthough they might deserve these names, there was yet much good inthem. They robbed the rich alone; to the poor they showedthemselves kindly and generous. They were eager to find and secretethis treasure, but agreed by acclamation that it should not betouched. Only Robin answered not, but looked askance with evil eye;and him alone of the eight men intrusted with the task did shedistrust. "

"Then why was he sent?"

"Verily because he was too powerful to be refused. It would havemade a split in the camp, and the end of that might no man see. Shewas forced to send him in charge of the expedition; and he alone ofthe eight that went forth ever returned to the mill. "

"What!" cried Cuthbert, "did some mischance befall them?"

"That is a thing that no man knows, " answered Joanna darkly. "It isas I have said: Long Robin, and he alone, ever came back to themill. He was five days gone, and men said he looked ten years olderin those days. He told a strange tale. He said that the treasurehad been found and secreted, but that the sight of the gold hadacted like strong drink upon his seven comrades: that they hadvowed to carry it away and convert it into money, that they mightbe rich for the rest of their days; and that when he had opposedthem, bidding them remember the words of the queen, they had setupon him, had bound him hand and foot, and had left him to perishin a cave, whence he had only been released by the charity of apasser by, when he was well-nigh starved with hunger and cold. Hesaid that he had gone at once to the place where the treasure hadbeen hid, and had found all of it gone. The seven covetous men hadplainly carried it off, and he prophesied that they would never beseen again. "

"And they never were?"

"Never!" answered Joanna, in that same dark way; "for they were alldead men!"

"Dead! how came they so?"

"Listen, and I will tell thee. I cannot prove my words. The fate ofthe seven lies wrapped in mystery; but Esther vows that they wereall slain in the heart of the forest by Long Robin. She is ascertain of it as though she saw the deed. She knows that as the menwere carrying their last loads to the hiding place, wherever thatmight be, Long Robin lay in wait and slew them one by one, takingthem unawares and plunging his knife into the neck of each, so thatthey fell with never a cry. She knows it from strange words utteredby him in sleep; knows it from the finding in the forest not manyyears since of a number of human bones and seven skulls, all lyingnear together in one place. Some woodmen found the ghastly remains;and from that day forward none has cared to pass that way. It waswhispered that it was the work of fairies or gnomes, and the dellis shunned by all who have ever heard the tale. "

"As the lines say!" cried Cuthbert, in great excitement. "Thinkestthou that it is in that dell that the treasure lies hid?"

"Esther thinks so, but she knows not; and I have hunted and huntedin vain for traces of digging and signs of disturbance in theground, but I have sought in vain. Long Robin keeps his secretwell. If he knows the place, no living soul shares his knowledge. It may be that long since all has been removed. It may be he hasvast wealth stored up in some other country, awaiting the momentwhen he shall go forth to claim it. "

A puzzled look crossed Cuthbert's face. He put his hand to hishead. 

"Thou speakest of Robin as though he were yet alive, and yet thouhast said thou thinkest him dead. And there is Miriam--surely sheknows all. I am yet more than half in the dark. "

"None may wholly know what all this means, " answered Joanna; "butupon me has Esther laid the charge to strive that restitution bedone, since now the house of Trevlyn has become the friend andchampion of the poor and oppressed, and the present knight is avery proper gentleman, well worthy of being the son and thegrandson of the house of Wyvern. This charge she laid upon me fivelong years agone, when she bid the tribe own me their queen, forthat her age and infirmities hindered her from acting longer assuch. Ever since then I have been pondering and wondering how thisthing may be done; but I have had to hold my peace, for if but awhisper got abroad and so came to Miriam's ears, I trow that thetreasure, if still it lies hidden in the forest, would forthwith bespirited away once more. "

"Then Miriam knows the hiding place?"

"I say not that, I think not that. I have watched, and used everyart to discover all I may; and I well believe that Miriam herselfknows not the spot, but that she knows it lies yet in the forest, and that when the hour is come she and Robin together will bear itaway, and keep it for ever from the house of Trevlyn. "

"But sure if they are ever to enjoy their ill-gotten gains itshould be soon, " said Cuthbert. "Miriam is old, and Long Robin canscarce be younger--"

"Hold! I have not done. Long Robin, her husband, was older by farthan she. If the old man who goes by that name be indeed he, hemust be nigh upon fourscore and ten. But I have long doubted whatno man else doubts. I believe not that yon gray-beard is Robin; Ibelieve that it is another who masquerades in old man's garb, buthas the strength and hardihood of youth beneath that garb and thatair of age. "

"Marry! yet how can that be?"

"It might not be so hard as thou deemest. In our tribe our menresemble each other closely, and have the same tricks of voice andspeech. Nay, it was whispered that many of the youths were in verytruth sons to Robin; and one of these so far favoured him that theywere ever together, and he was treated in all ways like a son. Miriam loved him as though he had been her own. Where Long Robinwent there went this other Robin, too. He was as the shadow of theother. And a day came when they went forth together to roam inforeign lands, and Miriam with them. They were gone for full threeyears. We gave up the hope of seeing them more. But suddenly theycame amongst us again--two of them, not three. They said theyounger Robin had died of the plague in foreign lands, and all mengave heed to the tale. But from the first I noted that Long Robin'sstep was firmer than when he went forth, that there was more powerin his voice, more strength in his arm. True, he goes about withbowed back; but I have seen him lift himself up when he thoughtthere was none to see him, and stretch his long arms with astrength and ease that are seldom seen in the very aged. He canaccomplish long rides and rambles, strange in one so old; and ourpeople begin to regard him with awe, as a man whom death has passedby. But I verily believe that it was old Robin who passed away, andthat this man is none other but young Robin; and that in him andhim alone is reposed the secret of the lost treasure, that he mayone day have it for his own. "

"And why to him?" questioned Cuthbert, drawing his brows togetherin the effort to understand; "why to him rather than to Miriam orany other of the tribe?"

"Verily because he was the one being in the world beloved of LongRobin. Miriam he trusted not, for that she was a woman, and he heldthat no woman, however faithful, might be trusted with a secret. Ihave heard him say so a hundred times, and have seen her flinchbeneath the words, whilst her eyes flashed fire. Methinks that LongRobin loved gold with the miser's greed--loved to hoard and not tospend--loved to feel it in his power, but desired not to touch it. Miriam was content so long as vengeance on the Trevlyns had beentaken. She wanted not the gold herself so long as it was hiddenfrom them. But the secret was one that must not die, and to youngRobin it has been intrusted. And if I mistake me not, he has othernotions regarding it, and will not let it lie in its hiding placefor ever. He is sharp and shrewd as Lucifer. He knows by someinstinct that I suspect and that I watch him, and never has hebetrayed aught to me. But sure am I that the secret rests with him;and if thou wouldst find it out, it is Long Robin's steps that thoumust dog and watch. "

"I will watch him till I have tracked him to his lair!" criedCuthbert, springing to his feet in great excitement. "I will neverrest, day nor night, until the golden secret is mine!"

Chapter 14: Long Robin. 

The gipsy had left him, gliding away in the moonlight like averitable shadow; and Cuthbert, left alone in the dim cave, buriedhis face in his hands and sank into a deep reverie. 

This, then, was the meaning of it all: the long-deferred vengeanceof the gipsy tribe; the avaricious greed of one amongst theirnumber, who had committed dastardly crimes so as to keep the secrethiding place in his own power alone; the secret passed on (as itseemed) to one who feigned to be what he was not, and was cunninglyawaiting time and opportunity to remove the gold, and amass tohimself this vast hoard; none beside himself of all the tribeheeding or caring for it, all holding to the story told long ago ofthe seven men who had disappeared bearing away to foreign lands thestolen treasure. A generation had well-nigh passed since thattreasure had been filched from the grasp of the Trevlyns. Thestalwart fellows who had been bred up amongst the gipsies, or hadjoined the bands of freebooters with whom they were so closelyconnected, knew little of and cared nothing for the tradition ofthe hidden hoard. They found gold enough in the pockets of thetravellers they waylaid to supply their daily needs; the free lifeof the forest was dear to them, and left them no lingering longingsafter wealth that might prove a burden instead of a joy to itspossessor. 

Out of those who had been living when the treasure was stolen andlost, only Miriam and Long Robin (if indeed it were he) and Estherremained alive. Esther had retired to London, and was lost to herpeople. Miriam had done everything to encourage the belief that thetreasure had been made away with by the seven helpers who had goneforth, but had never returned to tell the tale. Esther, who hadthought very differently, had confined her suspicious for a time toher own bosom, and later on had spoken of them only to Joanna. Uponher had she laid the charge to strive to make restitution, now thatvengeance had been inflicted and the curse of the old witchfulfilled. To Joanna it belonged to restore prosperity to the houseof Wyvern through the daughters' sons, and it was for her to striveto learn where the treasure lay, and give notice of the spot to theTrevlyns. 

The queen had done all that she could. She had watched with closeattention the pair with whom Esther believed the secret to lie. Miriam, her mother, knew not the spot, of that she was convinced;but she did know that the treasure had been hidden somewhere in theforest by her husband, and that the exact place was known to thewhite-bearded man whom she and others called Long Robin. 

About that weird old man, said to be well-nigh a hundred years old, a flavour of romance existed. Men looked upon him as bearing acharmed existence. He went his lonely way unheeded by all. He wassaid to have dealings with the fairies and the pixies of theforest. All regarded him with a species of awe. He had drawn, as itwere, a charmed circle about himself and his ways. None desired tointerfere with him; none questioned his coming or going. Allbrought to him a share of the spoil taken on the roads as a matterof right and due, but none looked to receive aught in return fromhim. He and Miriam, from their great age, lived as it were apart. They took the place of patriarchal heads of the tribe, and weretreated with reverence and filial respect by all. 

The question Cuthbert had pressed home on Joanna was why, thisbeing so, the treasure had not been moved away before this, so thatMiriam should end her days in peace and luxury, instead of growingold in the wilds of the forest. 

Joanna's reply had been that she did not think Miriam had everreally wished to leave the free forest life; that with her, vengeance upon the Trevlyns had been the leading impulse of herlife; and that she had no covetous desires herself after the gold. Old Robin had loved it with the miser's love; but doubtless theyounger Robin (if indeed the long-bearded man were he) was waitingtill such time as Miriam should be dead, and he alone in fullpossession of the golden secret. Then he would without doubt bearit away and live like a prince the rest of his days; but for thepresent he made no move, and Joanna was very certain that hesuspected her of watching him, as indeed she did, and he had shownhimself as cunning as any fox in baffling her when she had soughtto discover any of his haunts. Her watching had been in vain, because she was suspected of a too great knowledge, and was lookedupon as dangerous. But where she failed Cuthbert might succeed, forhe was absolutely unknown to Robin, and if the two were to meetface to face in the forest, it would be impossible that the wilyold man (if old he were) should suspect him of any ulteriorpurpose. 

Robin had not been at the mill the night that Cuthbert had beenbrought there by Tyrrel and his companions. Joanna had describedhim so graphically that the lad was certain of knowing him were heto come across him in the forest. She had also indicated to him theregion in which she suspected him most generally to lurk when hespent days and sometimes weeks alone in the forest. She believedthat during the summer months, when the forest became the resort ofmany wandering bands of gipsies or of robbers and outlaws, he kepta pretty close and constant watch upon the spot where his treasurelay hid. The dell, at the head of which the bones of the sevenmurdered men had been found, was certainly a favourite spot of his;and she believed it was owing to some trickery of his that menstill declared it haunted by evil or troubled spirits. Travellerspassing that way had been scared almost out of their senses by thesight of a ghostly white figure gliding about, or by the sound ofhollow moans and the rattling of chains. None but the ignorantstranger ever ventured within half-a-mile of that ill-omened spot. Cuthbert, as he sat thinking over the gipsy's words and charge, sawclearly that there was ample room for suspicion that here thetreasure might lie, since Robin took such pains to scare away allmen from the spot. 

The light burned dim; but Cuthbert still sat on beside the rudetable where he had supped. Before him lay the scrap of parchmentwith the doggerel lines of the wise woman inscribed upon them. Ithad been something of a shock to his faith to find that the wisewoman knew all his story beforehand, and had had no need to diveinto the spirit world to ask the nature of his errand. He feltslightly aggrieved, as though he had been tricked and imposed upon. He was very nearly burning the parchment in despite; but Joanna hadbidden him keep it, and had added, with a slight significant smile:

"Keep it, boy; and think not too hardly of those who juggle withmen's fears and fancies, to obtain the greater sway upon them. Itis not always used amiss. As for those lines, there may be more inthem yet than thou or I can see at this moment. For there may bewords in them that have been spoken by Long Robin in his dreams. Esther has told me such before now. She knew not their meaning, nordo I; but that they have a meaning she is very sure. 'Three timesthree'--that was what he was muttering ever. It was the burden ofhis thought, even as she made it the burden of her song. Keep thelines; they may serve thy turn yet. Esther is a wise woman. She didnot give thee that paper for naught. "

The day had well-nigh dawned before Cuthbert flung himself upon oneof the pallet beds in the cave, and fell asleep from sheerweariness of mind and body; but he was young, and sleep camequickly and held him in a fast embrace. The silence and darkness ofthis underground place were favourable to a long spell of repose. The youth did not open his eyes till the sun had passed itsmeridian many hours, though no ray of daylight glinted into thatdim abode. 

It might have been the middle of the night for all he knew when heopened his eyes once again; and when he did so he lay perfectlystill, for he was convinced that he was yet in the midst of somestrange dream. He was in the cave of red sandstone where he hadfallen asleep, lying in the darkest corner of all upon a strawpallet, with his sad-coloured cloak over him; but the cave itselfwas lighter than it had been when he had fallen asleep. Two torchesflamed upon the table, and by the bright flame they cast upon theobjects near to them, Cuthbert saw a strange and weird-lookingfigure. 

This figure was that of a man, who was seated at table, and hadevidently been partaking of some refreshment. He was dressed inoutlandish garb, and in a fashion which was only affected now byvery old men, who had worn such garments all their lives, and wereaverse to change. Cuthbert had occasionally seen such a dressamongst the aged folks about his home, but this was more fancifulthan any assumed by a mere rustic, and gave to the tall thin figurea certain air of distinction. A soft felt hat with a high crown layupon the table; and the light shone full upon a face that wasseamed by tiny wrinkles, and upon a thick head of hair that waseither flaxen or white, Cuthbert could scarcely say which. The facewas almost entirely hidden by a tangled growth of beard as white assnow, which beard descended almost to the man's waist, and was ofwonderful fineness and bushiness. At the first glance theimpression produced by this strange apparition was that he was aman immensely old; but a closer examination might well raisedoubts. The air and bearing of the man were strangely alert for anoctogenarian, and the way in which he tackled the hard bread andcheese which still stood before him was scarcely like the fashionin which the aged generally eat. 

Cuthbert held his breath as he gazed. Was this a dream--the outcomeof his talk with the gipsy? No, he was awake; he became more andmore sure of it. But lying perfectly still, and not betraying hispresence by so much as a deeply-drawn breath, he gazed and gazed asif fascinated upon the face of this strange being, and in his hearthe said:

"Long Robin himself!"

He was certain of it; there could be no manner of mistake. Dress, air, everything corresponded with Joanna's description. For amoment a sick fear crossed his mind lest he should have left uponthe table the fragment of parchment with the mystic words upon it, for he had had no idea that the cave would be invaded that night. But no; the habit of caution had been strong within him, and he hadput the paper away before retiring to his corner. Plainly the manbefore him had no suspicion that any living soul was near. The deepshadows of the cave hid Cuthbert completely from view, and thesecret entrance to the inner cave was doubtless known to very few. None would suspect the presence of a hidden stranger there. 

As Cuthbert watched as if fascinated, Robin ceased eating, andpushed back his stool, rising to his feet quickly, and showing thegrand proportions of his tall figure, which certainly deserved theepithet of "long. " He stretched his arms, and swung them backwardsand forwards with a gesture strangely unlike that of age; andthrowing back his broad shoulders, he began pacing to and fro inthe cave with a firm, elastic tread seldom seen after the meridianof life is passed. 

"Joanna is right, " thought Cuthbert, crouching closer against thewall and into the shadows; for he had no wish to be discovered bythis giant, who would probably have scant mercy upon an observerwho might have taken his measure and discovered his secret now thathe was off his guard. "In all truth this man is not old; he canscarce be above forty years. It is by some clever artifice that hewhitens his beard to that snow-like hue. He himself is young andstrong. He shows it in every movement. "

He certainly did, pacing to and fro with rapid strides; andpresently he began to mutter words and phrases to himself, Cuthbertlistening with all his ears. 

"A curse upon the women!" he said more than once; "they are thevery plague of my life! Miriam's besotted love, Joanna's suspicionsand her accursed watch upon me, both hinder my plans. If the twainwere in league together, it could not be worse. Miriam implores mewith tears and lamentations to wait till she be laid in the tombfor the fulfilment of my cherished dream. And if I thwart her toofar, there is no telling what she may not say or do. Love and hatein jealous natures such as hers are terribly near akin, and thelove may change to burning hatred if once I provoke her too far. She knows not all, but she knows too much. She could spoil my handfull well if she did but tell all she knows. And that jade Joanna, how I hate her! She has been well drilled by that witch Esther, whoought long ere this to have been hanged or burned. I would I couldset the King's officers on her now, but if I did I should have thewhole tribe at my throat like bloodhounds, and not even my greatage would serve to save me from their fury. 

"Ha, ha! ha, ha!" and a sardonic laugh rang through the cave. "Would that I could wed Joanna to Tyrrel, who would give his soulto call her his. Once the wife of a member of the band, and some ofher power would go. I misdoubt me if any would long call her queen;and when she had babes to fill her mind and her thoughts, she wouldsoon cease to watch me with those suspicions eyes of hers, and tomake me fear continually for my secret. Would that they were bothdead! Would that I could kill them even as he killed the otherseven who had a share in the golden secret! I would strangle themwith my own hands if I did but dare. Once those two removed from mypath and my way would be plain. I could remove it all, bit by bitand piece by piece, away from this accursed forest, of which I amsick to the death. Then in some far-off foreign land of perpetualsunshine, I could reign a prince and a king, and life would be onelong dream of ease and delight; no more toil, no more privation, nomore scorching summer heat or biting winter cold. I have seen whatthe life of the East is like--the kneeling slaves, the harem ofbeauteous dark-eyed women, the dream-like indolence and ease. Thatis the life for me. That is whither I and my treasure will go. Aplague upon old Miriam, that she clings to these cold forests andthe sordid life we live here! But for her insane jealousy and loveI would defy Joanna and go. But the pair of them are too much forme. I must find a way of ridding myself of one or both. I will notbe bound like this for ever!"

The man raised his right hand and shook it with a vehement, threatening gesture; and then relapsing into sudden moody silence, continued his pacing to and fro, wrapped in gloomy thought. 

Cuthbert held his breath as this monologue proceeded, and a senseof unlooked-for triumph made his heart swell within him. Here wasproof positive that the treasure lay still in the forest; that ithad not been taken thence and dissipated; that it still remained tobe found by his unremitting endeavours. The youth felt almost asthough the victory were already his. What might not a few weeks ofpatient perseverance bring? He would dog Robin's' steps like abloodhound. He had not been brought up to hardship and forest lifefor nothing. To sleep in the open, to live scantily on such fare asmight be picked up at the huts of the woodmen or in the camps ofthe gipsies, was nothing to him. He would live on roots and wildfruits sooner than abandon his quest. Nothing should come betweenhim and his overmastering resolve to win back for the house ofTrevlyn the long-lost treasure. 

But as he mused and Robin impatiently paced the floor of thecavern, the torches burned slowly down, till one flickered and wentout and the other showed signs of speedy extinction. Robin, with astart and an oath, stopped in his walk and muttered that he must begone. He placed upon his head the slouched hat, that at onceconcealed his features, and gave a different expression to hisface. As he donned his hat and took up a heavy oaken staff that layupon the table, his whole aspect changed. He seemed to don likewisea new action, a new outward appearance altogether. His straightback bent and assumed a stoop such as one sees in men who have longgrown old. There came a feebleness into his gait, a slightuncertainty into his movements. And all this was done so naturally, so cleverly, that Cuthbert, as he gazed fascinated at the figurebefore him, could scarcely believe that his eyes had not played himsome strange trick--could scarcely credit that this could be thesame being as the upright, stalwart man, whose movements he hadbeen watching during the past half hour. But all this only went toshow how shrewd Joanna's surmise had been, and every corroboratingfact increased Cuthbert's confidence in all that she had told him. 

Leaving the last torch to die into obscurity by itself, Long Robinmade for the opening in the wall which led to the outer cave, andCuthbert rose swiftly and silently and crept after him, gaining theopening in time to see the tall figure slouching across themoorland track in the direction of the westering sun. 

Afraid of following too closely, and so of being seen, Cuthbertretreated once more into the cave, and had the forethought to fillhis wallet with the remains of the meal of which both he and LongRobin had partaken. He did not know exactly what was his bestcourse to pursue, but it seemed a pity to let Long Robin out of hissight without tracking him to some one of his lairs or hidingplaces. 

Cuthbert now knew that he had slept during the greater part of theday, and taking a draught of mead, and rapidly munching some breadand cheese, he fortified himself for his evening stroll, and then, before the torch actually expired, found his way to the openingagain, and so out upon the moor. 

Far away, but still distinctly visible against the bright sky, wasthe tall figure of the gipsy. Cuthbert was not afraid of being seenat so great a distance, but he still took the precaution of keepingall the tallest bushes and clumps of flowering gorse between himand the quarry he was following; and when at length the trees ofthe wooded tracts rose up before his eyes, he quickened his paceslightly, and gained decidedly upon Robin before he glided into thedark pine forest. 

Before doing this, the gipsy turned back and looked carefullyround; but Cuthbert was already crouching behind a bush, andescaped observation. As soon as Robin had fairly disappeared, theyouth rose and ran quickly after him, and soon caught glimpses ofthe tall, stooping figure wending its way amongst the ruddy pinestems, now dyed golden and crimson in the glow of the brightsunset. 

On and on he went in the fading light, and on and on went Cuthbertin steady pursuit. This part of the forest was strange to theyouth, but it was familiar enough to the gipsy. From the mechanicalway in which he chose his track, and the direct certainty withwhich he walked, it was plain that he knew every inch of the road, and could have found the path by night as well as by day. 

"Sure it must lead to the haunted dell, " thought Cuthbert, as thegloom deepened around him and the wood grew denser and denser. Thepines began to be mingled with other trees. The undergrowth wasthicker and more tangled. It was not always easy for Cuthbert toforce his way along. He paused sometimes in fear lest his steps andthe cracking of the boughs should be heard by the man in advance ofhim. 

On and on they went, and now the track became more distinct, and itled downwards. An owl in a tree overhead hooted as Cuthbert passedby, and something of a cold shiver ran through the young man'sframe; he stumbled over the outspread root of a gnarled old oak, and fell, making more noise than he liked. 

The owl flew away, hooting ominously as it seemed to his strainednerves, and the hooting was answered as from the very heart of thedell, if dell it was, mingled with many other strange and fiercesounds. Cuthbert rose to his feet and crept forward with a beatingheart, and as he did so he heard a shout of demoniacal laughterwhich chilled the very blood in his veins, and seemed to raise thehair upon his head, so unearthly was the sound. 

But making the sign of the cross upon his brow, and striving tokeep his presence of mind and his courage unimpaired by ghostlyterrors, Cuthbert still pursued his way downwards into this dim, strange place. He felt more and more certain that this was thepixies' dell of which the verses spoke--the dell wherein some deedof darkness had been committed that caused it to be shunned of all;and it needed all his native stoutness of heart to enable him toconquer his fears and pursue his way, as he reflected on the foulmurders that had been committed not far off, and wondered if indeedthe restless souls of those to whom Christian burial had beendenied hovered by night about the ill-omened spot, to fright awayall travellers who strove to pass that way. 

For a while the fearful sounds of hooting and laughter continued, under cover of which he crept nearer and nearer to the centre ofthe dell. Presently they ceased, and a death-like silence ensued. Cuthbert dared not move, and scarcely dared to breathe. This wasthe most trying experience he had yet had. He had felt far lessfear on the darkly-flowing river and in that strange undergroundcellar, against both of which the wise woman had warned him. 

But after a long pause of silence he heard another and a differentlaugh--a laugh in which he recognized the sardonic intonation hehad recently heard from the lips of Long Robin. 

"I trow that has been enow, " spoke a voice nigh at hand, though thespeaker was invisible owing to the thick growth of bushes. "If thatsound were caused by aught but a rabbit or wildcat, I wager thehardy traveller has taken to his heels and fled. But I misdoubt methat it was anything human. There be sounds and to spare in theforest at night. It is long since I have been troubled by visitorsto this lone spot. The pixies and I have the dell to ourselves. Ha, ha!"

"Robin's voice again!" whispered Cuthbert to himself, creepingforward with the cautious, snake-like movement that he had learnedwhen snaring birds or rabbits to furnish the scanty larder at theGate House. He advanced by slow degrees, and soon gained what hedesired--a view of his quarry and of the heart of the dell. 

In the fading light he could see both plainly. Long Robin wasseated upon a low stone wall overgrown with moss, that seemed to bebuilt around a well; for it was of circular construction, and tothe listener was borne the faint sound of running water, though thesound seemed to come from the very heart of the earth. Round thiswell was a space of smooth greensward--sward that appeared to havebeen untouched for centuries. All around, the sides of the dellrose up, covered with a thick growth of wood and copse. It was alovely spot in all truth, but lonely to the verge of desolation. Cuthbert dimly remembered having heard fragments of legendsrespecting a pixies' dell in the heart of the forest--a dellavoided by all, for that no man who ventured in came forth alive. Most likely this was the place; most likely the legend of fearsurrounding it was due to some exaggerated version of old Robin'sghastly crime in bygone years. 

Cuthbert gazed and gazed with a sense of weird fascination. Hefully believed that in some spot not many yards from where he stoodlay hidden the lost treasure of Trevlyn, and that the secret ofthat resting place remained known to one man only in the wholeworld; and that was the man before him!

A wild impulse seized Cuthbert to spring upon that bowed figure, and, holding a knife to the man's throat, to demand a fullrevelation of that secret as the price of life. Perhaps had he notseen but an hour before how upright, powerful, and stalwart thatbending figure could be, he would have done it then and there. Butwith that memory clear in his mind, together with his knowledge ofthe perfectly unscrupulous character of the gipsy, he felt thatsuch a step would be the sheerest madness; and after gazing hisfill at the motionless figure, he softly crept away once more. 

He lay hidden in the bushes till he heard Long Robin leave the delland go crashing through the underwood with heavy steps, cursing ashe went the two women who stood between him and his desire. It wasplain from his muttered words that he was going back to the campnow. Plainly he had paid his visit to the hoard and found all safeand undisturbed. Cuthbert was more and more convinced that thetreasure lay here, as Esther had always believed; and it would bestrange indeed, being so near, if he could not find it in time. 

But he would not search tonight; he had the whole summer beforehim. Plainly Long Robin was not going to take any immediate stepfor the removal of the treasure; and during the last hours a greatlonging had come upon Cuthbert to see Petronella again. He waswithin ten miles of his old home now, and the thoughts of hissister had been mingling with these other thoughts of the losttreasure. Surely he could find his way to the Gate House from thislonely dell, and once there, by making a signal at his sister'swindow, he could advise her of his presence and gain a stoleninterview. 

So taking his bearings from the moon, he struck boldly across thelonely waste of forest that lay between him and his former home, and soon found himself tramping over the ling and moss of the highridge of common land with which the woody tracts of the forest werefrequently interspersed. 

As he thus tramped the words of the verses began singing in hishead: "Three times three--o'er ling and moss. " What was that threetimes three? The question mingled with his dreams of his sister, and suddenly the thought came to him, Could the three times threebe miles--miles from the giant oak from beneath which the treasurehad been taken? Three times three--it might well be so. Thedistance was surely about nine miles. The spot where the Trevlynshad hid their treasure lay directly in Cuthbert's way as he marchedsteadily towards the Gate House. He saw the giant oak rise upbefore him in the moonlight, and he hastened to the spot and stoodbeneath the overhanging branches. 

Standing beneath it with the oak behind him, he looked straightalong the way he had come across the bog and moss. Surely therewere nine miles, and little more or less, between the one spot andthe other. And again, with the oak behind there was a beech at hisright hand, and straight before him the road to the pixies' dell. Well, it might not be much, yet it seemed like a link in the chain. Esther had perchance heard Robin mutter these numbers in histroubled sleep. Surely he had been thinking or dreaming of thatlong nine miles' tramp, and the words he had used to direct the menwhom afterwards he had foully and treacherously murdered!

"I am on the track! I am on the track!" cried Cuthbert exultantly, as he pursued his way. "The secret lies hid in the pixies' dell. Surely if I have learned as much as that, I cannot be long infinding out the whole!"

And with thoughts of his sister, of Cherry, of Kate, warm in hisheart, Cuthbert sped gaily along in the direction of his old home. 

Midnight struck from the clock in the turret of Trevlyn Chase asthe youth approached the gray walls of the old Gate House. How grimand hoary it looked in the white moonlight! Something of a faintshiver of repulsion ran through Cuthbert's frame as he looked uponthe familiar outline of the building. Was it possible that all butthe few last months of his life had been spent there? It seemed tohim that the old life was already like a dim and distant dream, andthat the fuller life he had enjoyed since leaving was the only onethat had any reality about it. 

But he well knew the habits and the sullen ferocity of the grim oldman his father, and it was with cautious steps that he approachedthe walls. No light burned in any window. The inmates of thebuilding were doubtless wrapped in sleep. He well knew his sister'swindow, and cutting himself a long hazel bough, he gently swept itto and fro across the glass. This had always been a signal betweenthem in their childhood, and many had been their nocturnal ramblestaken together when Cuthbert had contrived to escape from the housebefore it was locked up, and had then called Petronella andassisted her down by the tangled ivy that clung to the gray oldwalls. He knew she would recognize in a moment who was outside whenshe heard the tapping of that hazel wand; and it seemed indeed asif she did, for in a moment the window was opened, and a softtremulous voice asked eagerly:

"Cuthbert, can it be thou?"

"It is indeed I, sweet sister. Canst thou come to me? Hast thoulost thy cunning or thy lightness of foot? I am here to help thee. "

"I will come to thee anon; but the little postern door is seldomlocked since thou art gone, and I can get out thus. Linger notbeside the house, Cuthbert; speed to the chantry--I will meet theethere. He might hear or see thee here. Do not linger; go. I will bewith thee anon; I will not keep thee but a few short minutes. Butdo not tarry; go!"

There was such earnestness in her soft whispers that Cuthbert didnot attempt to reply save by a brief nod. He slid away in thedarkness and took the familiar but now tangled path to the chantry, looking round the old ruin with loving eyes; for it was the onespot connected with his home not fraught with memories of pain andfear. 

"Poor little timid Petronella!" he mused. "Was I right to leave herthus alone with our harsh father? Yet I could do nothing for her;and it seemed as though my presence in the house stirred him up tocontinual fury. I would I had a home to bring her to. I would Imight carry her off with me now. But what could she do in theforest, away from the haunts of men? Nay, she must tarry here but alittle while. Then will I come and claim her. Then will she havedowry worthy her name and state. Oh that lost treasure, that losttreasure! what happiness will there be in store for very many whenthat lost treasure is found!"

And then he paused and held out his arms, for light steps werespeeding towards him through the dewy grass, and Petronella, with alittle sobbing cry, flung herself upon him, to be enfolded in astrong embrace. 

Chapter 15: Petronella. 

"Cuthbert, is it--can it really be thou?"

"Petronella--sister! What happiness to see thee once more!"

She clung to him almost sobbing in the excitement of purehappiness. He could feel that she trembled in his arms, and heenfolded the slight frame ever closer and closer. 

"Sweetest sister, fear not! Dost fear I could not protect thee fromharm? Believe me, thou hast a wondrous different brother now fromthe cowed and timorous lad who went forth from these doors but sixshort months back. Fear not, my sister; look up, and let me see thyface. I would learn how it has fared with thee since we parted thatnight on this very spot, though it now seems so long ago. "

Petronella heaved a long sigh, and her tremblings gradually ceased. It seemed as though the brotherly clasp of those strong armsstilled her fears and brought comfort and soothing. But as Cuthbertheld her closely to him, it seemed to him almost as though heclasped a phantom form rather than one of solid flesh and blood. There seemed nothing of the girl but skin and bone; and lookinganxiously into the small oval face, he noted how wistful and hollowthe great dark eyes had grown, and how pinched and worn everyfeature. Had it always been so with her? He scarce knew, for weheed little the aspect of those about us when we are young andinexperienced. 

Petronella had always been somewhat shadowy and wan, had alwaysbeen slight and slim and small. But was she always as wan andslight as she now seemed? or did he observe it the more from thecontrast it presented to Cherry's blooming beauty, to which hiseyes had grown used? He asked the question anxiously of himself, but could not answer it. 

Then drawing Petronella into the full light of the silver moon, hemade her sit beside him on a fragment of mouldering wall, andholding her thin hands in a warm clasp, he scanned her face withglances of earnest scrutiny. 

"My sister, hast thou been ill?"

She shook her head with a pathetic little smile. 

"Alas, no! Methinks I am a true Trevlyn for that. Sickness passesme by and seizes upon others who might so much better be spared. "

"Why dost thou say 'alas' to that, sweet sister?"

"Verily because there be times when I would so gladly lay down myhead never to lift it more. For me death would be sweeter thanlife. The dead rest in God's peaceful keeping--my good aunt at theChase has told me so, and I no longer fear the scorching fires ofpurgatory. I have a little New Testament now of my own, full ofsweet promises and words of love and peace. When I read of thepearly gates and the streets of gold, and the city into whichnothing unholy may enter, I long sorely to leave behind this worldof sin and sorrow and find a refuge there. 

"But I would know more of thee, Cuthbert, and of what thou hastseen and done since thou hast left the Gate House. For me I havenaught to tell. Life here is ever the same. But thou must have doneand seen so much. May I not hear thy tale? May I not learn how ithas fared with thee?"

Cuthbert was willing enough to outpour his story to her, sittingbeside her in the old chantry, where so many happy hours of theirshadowed childhood had been spent. He told of his adventures by theway, of his night with the gipsies, of his timely rescue of Cherryand his admittance to his uncle's house. He told of his uncle'swonderful story of the gold that was to be all for his sister; toldof the life at the bridge house, and his attachment to his cousinCherry. The only matter he named not was that of his meeting withMaster Robert Catesby, and all that had followed in which he wasconcerned. Petronella would only be bewildered by so many strangethings. It was enough to tell her of his recent adventures in theforest, and his growing hopes of coming upon traces of the losttreasure. 

Petronella listened to the whole of this tale with parted lips andwide-open eyes, as a child listens to a tale of fairy romance andwonder. She could scarce believe that all these strange things hadbefallen her own brother; but as she questioned and he answered, she gradually began to understand, to enter into his feelings, andto obtain a clearer comprehension of the situation of affairs. Herintercourse with the Trevlyns of the Chase had done something towiden her knowledge of life, and Cuthbert found that her mind hadmatured and expanded in a fashion he had hardly expected. Hewondered where she had picked up some of the bits of experiencethat fell from her lips from time to time, and he looked somewhatsearchingly into her face. 

"Methinks, my sister, that time has not stood still with thee sinceI went away. Thou art wondrous wise for thy years. Who has been thyinstructor?"

Even in the moonlight he could see the sudden flush that dyed hercheek and neck at the question. 

"I have been to the Chase as much as our father wouldpermit--indeed, I fear me I have been oftener; but I was verylonely, and they were all so kind. And Philip, he has been oftenhere. He has been in very truth a--a--brother to me in thy place. Methinks but for him I should almost have died. But, O Cuthbert, itis hard, it is hard!"

The last words were spoken with such sudden passion and vehemencethat the youth started and looked once again at his sister. Of old, Petronella had always been so gentle, so meek and yielding, that tohear such an outburst from her startled him not a little. 

"What is hard, sweet sister?"

"To be the daughter of--of--such a father as ours, " she answered, lowering her voice and speaking with infinite sadness now. "Heavenknows I have striven to love him, have striven to obey him, havestriven to be all a daughter should!"

"Ay, verily thou hast!" answered Cuthbert warmly. "I have chiddenthee many a time before this for the meekness that raised noprotest let him be never so harsh. Thou hast done more than thyshare, sweet Petronella. None can blame thee for rebelliousthoughts or words. If he will none of our love or service, thefault is his, not ours--thine least of all, for thou wast evergentle and meek. "

"I have tried, " repeated Petronella sadly; "and when thou hadstgone and the tempest had something subsided, I tried as neverbefore to be a loving daughter, and make up to him for the loss ofhis son. But he would have none of my love. He drove me from hispresence with bitter words. I had perforce to seek others, if Iwere to live at all; and though he hurled taunts and harsh speechesat me oftentimes, he did not forbid me that house, albeit he scarceknew perchance how oft I was there, since he shut himself up moreand more, and sometimes saw me not from one week's end to theother. "

"What a lone life for thee, my sister!"

"Yes, it was lone, save for the comradeship of our cousins. Butthat was better, far better, than what followed. "

Cuthbert looked quickly at her, and his eyes darkened. 

"And what did follow, Petronella?"

She bent her head a little, that he might not see the expression ofher face. Her words were falteringly spoken. 

"It was not many weeks since--it was when the days began to lengthenout, and the forest paths to grow decked with flowers--that some evilthoughts of suspicion came into his head, I know not how, and hedogged my steps as I wandered in the woods; and twice--nay, thrice--hecame suddenly upon us as we walked together in the woodland dells. "

"'We? who was with thee, sister?"

"Philip, " she answered very softly, and there was something in thetender intonation with which she spoke the name that told a taleCuthbert was not slow to read. He had guessed as much before, butthis made assurance doubly sure; and with the sympathy of theardent young lover, he put his hand on Petronella's and pressed ittenderly. She understood the meaning of that clasp, and lookedgratefully at him, going on with more confidence afterwards. 

"It was with Philip that he found me; and the sight filled him witha sullen fury--the fury that thou knowest, brother, which brooks noopposition, no words. He would not hear Philip speak. He struck himon the mouth--a cruel blow that caused the blood to spring forth;and he dragged me away by main force, and locked me up in thepillared chamber, vowing to keep me a prisoner all my life an Iwould not promise never to speak with Philip again. "

"And thou?"

"I told him I would promise naught save to meet him no more in theforest. I was glad to promise that; for I feared our savage fathermight kill him in a fit of fury were he to find us again together. I should have been terrified to wander forth with him more. Ipromised that, but I would promise no more. "

"And did that satisfy him?" asked Cuthbert breathlessly. "Tell meall, my sister. He did not dare lay hands on thee?"

Petronella smiled faintly. 

"Methinks he would dare anything he wished; but he let himself besatisfied with that pledge. Only he kept me many days in that dimplace of terror, and gave me but scant prisoner's fare the while. Cuthbert, as thou art free and thou art nigh, wilt thou to TrevlynChase for me ere thou goest back into the forest, and tell Philipwhat has befallen me, and that I may no more hope to meet him inour favourite haunts? Tell him all I have told to thee, and bid himkeep himself from this house. It is an ill place! an ill place! Ah, Cuthbert, were I but a man like thee, I would fare forth as thouhast done. I would not stay beneath yon roof to be starved in souland body and spirit. O father, father!"

The cry was one of exceeding bitterness, and yet in it spoke apatience that moved Cuthbert strangely. 

"Sister, my sister!" he cried, in accents of suppressed agitation, "I know not how to leave thee here. Petronella, why not forth withme to the forest? Sure I could protect thee there and give thee abetter home beneath the greenwood trees than our father doesbeneath yon grim walls. And, sister, I could take thee to ouruncle, Martin Holt. Sure he would give thee asylum with him, as hegave to me. Thou wouldst have Cherry for a sister. Thou--"

But Petronella shrank away a little, and looked scared at thethought. Hers was one of those timid natures that find it easier toendure even a terrible wrong than to take a bold step to escapefrom it. The life of the forest might have attracted her, for sheloved the freedom of the woodlands, and had no fears of lonelinessor privation. But she had heard from Cuthbert of the bands ofoutlaws and gipsies, of Long Robin and his murderous hatred; and ofother perils which she felt she had scarce courage to face. Shefeared that if she let Cuthbert carry her off she would but prove aburden and a care, whilst the thought of London and the strangerelations there filled her with distaste and dread. 

"Nay, nay, my brother; I have borne much--I will bear a littlemore. I love the old Gate House as thou hast never loved it; andperchance after this storm there may be a lull of quiet peace. Ishould but hamper thee, and hold thee back from that great purpose;and--"

"But Martin Holt, he would welcome thee; and once beneath hisroof--"

"Nay, Cuthbert, it might well be that our father would guesswhither I had fled, and would come and drag me back. I am not of anage to resist him. And I am a helpless woman, not a man. I havethought many times of flight, but I fear me it would but lead toworse. "

"I know not that, " answered Cuthbert thoughtfully. "Our uncleMartin is a good man; and, Petronella, remember that whether or nothy brother finds the lost treasure, he holds in his keeping adowry for thee that will make thee no unworthy mate for PhilipTrevlyn when the day comes for him to claim thee as his bride. Nay, hide not thy face, sister. "

"Alas, alas, my brother! that day will never come! My father--"

"Nay, courage, sweetheart; our father's power lasts not for ever, and we will be happy yet in spite of him. And, sister mine, we musthave kinsfolks somewhere of the house of Wyvern. Our father neverspeaks to us of any such matters; but hast thou heard aught at theChase?"

Petronella looked quickly up at him. 

"Ay, I have heard them speak of kinsfolk of that family, albeit Iheeded not greatly what they said. Are they our kinsfolk likewise?"

"Ay, verily, inasmuch as our grandam was a Wyvern; and there havebeen Wyverns of two generations that have wed with the Trevlyns, asthou hast heard in the story of the lost treasure, which I havetold to thee. Sister, it might be that thou mightest find a refugewith them safer than with mine uncle of the bridge, who mightperchance think I asked too much were I to bring my sister to him, albeit he is a kind man and a just; but--"

"But I trust I may not have to flee, " said Petronella, with thesame air of shrinking that she had shown before. "I have borne somuch; surely I can bear the rest, until thou hast found thetreasure, and all is changed for us. When thou art rich and great, and high in favour with all, then perchance thou canst prevail evenwith our stern father, and win his leave to carry hence thy poorlittle sister. Till then I will strive to remain. "

Cuthbert took her hand and held it between his. 

"Petronella, I like it not--I like not to leave thee here; but itmust be as thou desirest. Only, remember one thing, my sister. I amnigh at hand. I am in the forest, not many miles away; and ifthings should become worse with thee, thou canst fly to me thither;thou wilt find me, doubtless, in or about the pixies' dell, ofwhich thou hast heard me speak, for it is there that my closestwatch will be held. Thinkest thou that thou canst find the place?"

"I trow so; thou hast told me how to do so. Nine miles across theopen forest, starting from the Trevlyn oak, with the great beech tothe right. If I am forced to fly, I will fly thither by night, andthe stars will be my guide. Brother, it is good to feel that thouart near. "

"Ay, Petronella, I am glad indeed; for I fear me sometimes that ourfather--"

"What, Cuthbert?"

"That he must surely be going mad. It is hard to believe he couldso persecute his children were it not so, and it is not fittingthat thou shouldest dwell beneath the roof of a madman. "

The girl shivered slightly, and her dark eyes dilated. 

"Thinkest thou so, Cuthbert? Sure I had thought it was his wrath atfinding that we loved not the faith in which he has brought us up;that first thou and then I have learned to find comfort in the holyBook he has denied to us, and to find that there be other holythings than our priests have taught us, and purer truths thanmethinks they know themselves. I thought that was why his angerburned so hotly against us. That was his quarrel with thee, andmethinks he must have suspected me, else would he scarce havedogged my steps as he did. "

"It may be so, " answered Cuthbert; "but I fear me he has broodedover his wrongs and his sins until he is well-nigh beside himself. My sister, let not thy patience lead thee into peril. Remember whatI have said, and whither I may be found. I will take thy message toPhilip. He shall be bidden not to anger thy father further byseeking thee. After that it is for thee to decide whether thoucanst still live in such solitude as must then be thine at the GateHouse, or whether thou wilt fly to me in the forest. "

"I will remember, " answered Petronella, rising to her feet; foreven here, and at this hour, and with her brother for hercompanion, she dared not linger long. "Tell my kind aunt that theTestament she gave me is the solace and happiness of my life. Ithink of her words every day, and they are written on my heart. Though I see her not, my blessing rests upon her. I would that shecould know what peace and joy she has helped to bring into mylonely lot. "

"I will tell her, " answered Cuthbert, as he took the slight forminto his arms. "She will be rejoiced to hear it, I doubt not. Itoo, my sister, have shared some of that peace myself. I have foundthat the faith in which we were reared, albeit it holds much ofgolden truth, has been so overlaid by artifice of man that the goldis sadly tarnished. I have some deep love for it yet, but I lovebetter the purer faith that I have learned from the written Word ofGod, and have heard from the lips of godly men of the EstablishedChurch of the land. I have seen and heard much in yon great city, and methinks that all creeds have much that is true--much that isthe same; but it seems the nature of man to fight and wrangle overthe differences, instead of rejoicing in the unity of a commonfaith; wherefore there be misery and strife and jealousy abounding, and the adversaries may well blaspheme. But I came not to talk suchmatters with thee, sweet sister; they baffle the wisdom of thewisest. Keep fast hold of the peace thou hast found, and let no mantake it from thee. I would I lived not in the midst of such wearywar of words. There be times when the heart sickens at it, and oneis fain to lay all aside sooner than have to own allegiance to anyone party, when one sees the bad as well as the good of all. "

Petronella's eyes were wide with astonishment and perplexity. Shefelt as though she had a very Solon for a brother when Cuthberttalked after this serious fashion. But she too had heard from theTrevlyns of the Chase somewhat of the burning questions of the day, and she was not wholly uninstructed in the matter. 

"That is one boon granted to us weak women, " she said, with ashadowy little smile. "We are not called upon to take part in theworld's battlefield. We may think our own thoughts, and go ourquiet way in the main unheeded and unmolested. But I am glad thatthou dost see as I do, my brother. It is sweet to find accord inthose we love. And now I must be gone; I dare not linger longer. Heaven bless and keep thee ever! I shall carry my daily load morelightly for this happy hour spent together. "

Cuthbert kissed her many times before he let her go, reminded heragain of the place where he himself might be found, and then walkedslowly with her towards the old Gate House, only letting her gowhen she desired it, and watching her glide towards the little doorwith a sense of sinking at heart which he could hardly explain. 

As for Petronella, she stole within the door, which she boltedbehind her, as she had found it, and felt her way up the narrowwinding stairs that led to the ground floor of the house. Thepostern door was below that level, and had a little stair of itsown leading to the house, from which it was again shut off byanother door at the top. When Petronella had stolen out to meetCuthbert, she had left this door open, so as to avoid all needlessnoise; but when she reached the head of the stairs she found itclosed, and her heart gave a sudden throb of dismay as she stoodquite still listening and wondering. 

Surely she had left it open? her memory had not deceived her! No;she remembered debating the matter with herself and deciding to doso. Could it have shut by itself afterwards? She could scarcelybelieve it. It was a heavy oaken door, that moved ponderously onits hinges; and the night was calm and breathless. No current ofair could have blown upon it. Had some person from above come downand shut it after her? and if so, who could that person be? and hadhe suspected that she had slipped out into the night, and for whatpurpose?

With a wildly-beating heart and a frame that felt ready to sinkinto the ground with fear, Petronella tried the latch of the door, and found it yield to her hand. She pressed it open and then stoodsuddenly still, a gasp of terror and dismay escaping her; forthere, in the middle of the hall, the moonlight falling full uponhis tall rugged figure, stood her father, waiting with folded armsfor his truant daughter, a look upon his stern face that sheshivered to behold. 

"So, girl!" he exclaimed, making one stride forward and catchingthe frail wrist in a vice-like grasp which almost extorted a cry ofpain--"so, my daughter, thou hast come in from this midnight trystwith thy lover! And what dost thou think is the reward a fatherbestows upon a daughter who leaves his house at this dead hour ofthe night to meet the man he has bidden her eschew for ever?"

Petronella's agitation was so great that she was well-nighswooning. Her nerves had been on the strain for some time. Theexcitement of seeing Cuthbert again, of hearing his story andtelling her own, had been considerable. And now to be confronted bya furious father, and accused of having broken her solemn pledge, and of having met her lover at an hour of the night when novirtuous maiden would dream of such a tryst, was more than shecould bear. Slipping to her knees, she laid her hand upon herfather's robe, and clutching hold of it, as if for support, shegasped out the one word:

"Pardon! pardon!"

"Thou mayest well sue for pardon, false jade; but to win it isanother matter. Say, vile girl, whom I blush to call mydaughter--say how oft hast thou thus gone forth to meet thy lover?"

"Father--father, revile me not thus!" cried the girl, besideherself with agitation, fearful of betraying Cuthbert's nearpresence to the Gate House, lest the angry man should contrive todo him some injury or gain some hold upon him, yet terrified at theaccusations levelled at her own head, which seemed to bear someshow of reason. "Father, have pity; drive me not to despair, asthou didst drive my brother. I am so lonely and so miserable. Pityme! pardon me!"

"Answer my question, base girl. How oft hast thou done this deedbefore tonight?"

"Never before, my father, never before! Ah, do not be too hard uponme! I have done no wrong--I swear it!"

"Keep thy false oaths for thy false lover!" cried the angry man; "Iwill have none of them. Thou hast passed me thy word once, and Ibelieved thee, and thou hast played me false. I will never believethee again--never, never! Thou hast made thy bed, and thou shaltlie upon it. "

And with that the angry man flung the kneeling girl from him withsuch violence that she fell against the wall, and striking her headsharply, sank stunned and unconscious at his feet. 

"Serve her right well, the false minx, the evil jade!" spoke theheartless father, as he strode back to his own room without so muchas going across to the girl to know if she were severely hurt. "Shewill be safe enow for this night. She will not seek to go forthagain. She shall smart for this bare-faced defiance. I will not beset at naught by both of my children. I will not--I will not!"

When Petronella awoke from what seemed to her a long dream, shefound herself in her own bed, tended by the deaf-and-dumb servant, who was sitting beside her and watching her with wistful glances. Aglad smile lighted up the woman's face as Petronella made a signthat showed she recognized her; but no speech was possible betweenthem, and the girl was too weary to care to ask questions by meansof the series of signals long since established between them. Sheturned her eyes from the light, and fell asleep again like a tiredchild. 

For several days her life was more like one long sleep thananything else. It was some while before she remembered any of theevents immediately preceding this mysterious attack of illness; andwhen she did remember, the events of that night seemed to stand outin fearful colours. 

Yet there was one thought of comfort: Cuthbert was not far away. Since her father had openly accused her of vileness, deceit, andtreachery; since he had struck her down so cruelly, and had noteven come to see her in her helplessness and weakness, must notCuthbert's surmise be the true one--must he not surely be mad? Shecould see by the old woman's cowering looks if the door moved onits hinges, how much she feared the terrible master; and whenPetronella was sufficiently recovered to be able to enter into thekind of conversation by means of signals which in some sortresembled the finger talking of more modern times, she learned thatindeed her father was in a more black and terrible mood than everbefore, and that old Martha herself went in fear of her life. 

Bit by bit the old woman made the girl understand what hadhappened. Shortly after the day upon which she had found her youngmistress lying cold and insensible on the stone floor of the hall, Philip Trevlyn had come to the Gate House, and had demanded aninterview with the owner. Right well did both the women know thenature of that errand, though none had been present but the younglover and the enraged father. There could be no manner of doubt butthat, incited to it by Cuthbert's tale, he had come to make adefinite offer of marriage, and doubtless had tried to bribe theavaricious old man by some tempting offer of gold or land. Butwhatever had been the terms in which the proposal was couched, anger had proved a stronger passion with Nicholas than greed. Philip had been driven from the house with a fury that threatenedactual violence, and for hours afterwards Nicholas had raged up anddown the house like a wild beast in a cage. He had once gone up tohis daughter's room with a face so full of fury that the old womanhad feared he meant to fall upon her then and there; but even hehad been calmed by a glance at the still, unconscious face upon thepillow, so white and bloodless and death-like; and the man had gonedown with a quieter footfall than he had mounted, but had beenbrooding in sullen fury ever since, so that the old servant hadfeared to approach him even to bring him his needful food. She hadspent almost all her time up with her young mistress, afraid toleave her by night or day lest some mischance should befall her. 

All this the girl gradually understood as she became strong enoughto take in the silent talk of the old woman. She knew that she musthave lain some days in this state of unconsciousness, for the treeswere greener than they had been when she had seen them last, andthe sunlight was fast gaining its golden summer-like glow. Therewas something exhilarating in the beauty and richness of revivingnature, and even Petronella's wan cheek kindled into a flush ofpleasure as she looked forth once again upon the fair world aroundher dismal home. 

Home? no, that was no longer the word for it. Slowly but surely theknowledge had come to her that Cuthbert had been right, and thatthis house could no longer be a home to her. Right well did shecredit now, what had never entered her mind before, that her fatherhad brooded and brooded until his very mind had become unhinged. Hewas not master of his words when he spoke to her as he had doneupon that terrible night; he was not master of his actions when hehad flung her away and left her lying unconscious on the stonefloor. There was even some slight comfort in this thought, thoughit settled for ever the doubt in her mind. She must leave the GateHouse so soon as she was strong enough to walk, and she must findher brother in the forest, and place herself beneath his care. 

The old servant approved the plan. She herself could find a refugeat Trevlyn Chase; but that house would be no shelter for her youngmistress. Her father's authority would be enough to carry her backinto captivity; and what her fate would be, were she to haveescaped him once and be again brought back, was a thought toshudder at. 

"I must go back to Cuthbert, " she said to herself, as she lookedover the fair landscape, and thought longingly of the cool, dimwoods, and the free life of the forest. Her own home was nothingnow but a prison house. She knew that if she presented herselfbefore her father sound and whole, she would at once be placedunder some close restraint that would effectually hinder her fromcarrying out her plan. He would sooner kill her, as she verilybelieved, than permit her such liberty as might enable her to meetby accident or design any member of the household from the Chase. If she were to succeed in her escape, the attempt must be madewhilst her father still believed her too feeble to stir from herbed; after that she would be too closely watched for it to bepossible. 

The old woman entered into this scheme with alacrity and zeal. Petronella kept to her bed; and when Nicholas Trevlyn demanded bysigns how it fared with his daughter, he was answered by solemnshakings of the head. If he mounted the stairs to see with his owneyes how she was, he saw her lying upon the bed with closed eyesand wan face, and would smile with an evil smile and mutter thatshe was safe enough now--safe enough now. 

Yet each day hope and the good food the shrewd old woman contrivedto provide for her did its work upon Petronella's frail body, andshe grew better every hour. Indeed, after some while she feltstronger than she had done for many weeks before her illness; andin due time even the fond old woman began to see that there was noneed to postpone longer the scheme of escape. 

It was a simple little scheme, yet one which promised success ifcarefully carried out. Nicholas Trevlyn was accustomed to takenight by night a posset of mead, brewed in some particular way byMartha. She was, upon the night planned as the one for the escapeof Petronella, to add to this posset some drops of a concoctionprepared by herself from herbs, which would infallibly producesound and deep sleep within two hours. The master of the houseasleep, all would be simple. The two women would sally forth by thepostern door, and make for the forest. With the first light of thedawn, Martha would seek the shelter of Trevlyn Chase, whilstPetronella sought her brother in the pixies' dell. Nicholas Trevlynwould awake the next morning to find himself alone in the old GateHouse that he had made intolerable for any other inmate. 

Chapter 16: The Pixies' Dell. 

After leaving Petronella close to her home, and watching the slightfigure vanish within the postern door, Cuthbert turned his ownsteps towards the Chase, resolved to see Philip and tell him whathad passed between him and his sister before returning to theforest dell where he had resolved to keep his watch. 

He would not make any disturbance at the house at this dead hour ofthe night; but as he was familiar with the place, he quickly foundhis way to a small pavilion in the garden, the door of which wasnot locked at night, and stretching himself upon a wooden settlewhich stood there, he quickly fell asleep, and slept soundly andwell until awakened by the sound of a startled exclamation. 

Springing to his feet, bewildered for a moment, and unable toremember where he was, he found himself confronted by the eager, startled face and big lustrous eyes of his cousin Kate. 

"Cuthbert! thou here!" she exclaimed in amaze. "Thou surely hastnot brought me ill news of my--of Culverhouse!" and a deep flushoverspread her face as she spoke. 

Cuthbert hastened to reassure her. He explained that he had notseen Culverhouse since they parted in the forest, and that his ownerrand was of a private nature, and concerned himself and hissister. 

"Ah, poor Petronella! methinks a hard lot is hers, Cuthbert. Mybrother does what he may; yet that is but little, and of late hehas not been able so much as to get sight of her. Yet I see notwhat thou canst do for her. Thy father is even more incensedagainst thee than against us!"

"I came but to see with mine own eyes how she fared, and to breathea word of hope in her ear. Kate, sweet coz, let me breathe thatsame word in thine; for thou wast the one to give me hope andconfidence when all besides looked on me as a wild dreamer. Methinks I am on the track of the lost treasure. Methinks withpatience and care I shall find it yet. "

Kate's eyes kindled and glowed. 

"Nay, now, that is good hearing! Said I not ever that the old sawsspake sooth? And is not the luck to return to the house of Wyvernthrough its daughters' sons? Cuthbert, tell me more--tell me all!how is it thou hast succeeded where all besides have failed?"

"I cannot lay claim to success as yet, " answered Cuthbert, smiling. "I have not said the treasure is mine, only that I trow I knowwhere soon I may lay hands upon it. Sweet Kate, when all that goldis brought back to the halls of Trevlyn Chase whence it was taken, sure thy dowry will be fair enough to win Lord Andover's smiles. Sure thou wilt not then be afraid to own--"

But Kate laid her soft hand upon his lips and glanced round withstartled eyes. Courageous as she was to carry out a boldresolution, she was not free from nervous timidity, too. 

"Speak not the words, good Cuthbert, neither here nor yet withinthe walls of the Chase. I have not dared to breathe to them at homethe thing I have done. Heaven pardon me if it were a sin; but I maynot wish it undone. It is so sweet to feel myself his; and if it beas thou sayest, we may not have long to wait ere he may claim mebefore the world. But if thou findest the treasure thyself, will itnot be all thine?"

"I trow not, and I trust thou hast no such evil thoughts of me, fair cousin, as to think that I would keep all, when but a portionwas my father's share, and that will scarce be mine whilst helives. I do but hope to restore it to those to whom it rightfullybelongs. I trow there will be enough to make all glad and happy, and I doubt not that something of good hap may come to me thereby. But to lay claim to all--why, that would be a scurvy thought, unworthy a man of honour. "

Kate's bright face was full of eager sympathy and approval. 

"I like thee, Cuthbert, " she cried; "I like thy honest thoughts andwords. Thou art in sooth a very proper youth. Thou art worthy ofthy Wyvern blood, which I hold to be purer than that of Trevlyn, which has times and again been stained by acts of malice, greed, and violence. But see, the sun is rising in the sky! We must backto the house for the morning meal. And, Cuthbert, good Cuthbert, thou wilt keep my secret? Thou wilt not tell of our meeting on MayDay in the forest?"

"Never a word an thou biddest me not, " answered Cuthbert, with asmile. "So that is to be a secret, Lady Culverhouse?"

She recoiled with a little start, her eyes dancing, her cheeksaglow. 

"O Cuthbert, I had not thought that my name was changed. LadyCulverhouse! What a pleasant sound it has! But oh, not a word athome! I dare not tell them aught till Culverhouse be by my side. Imisdoubt me that I did right to let him persuade me thus; and yet Icould not say him nay, and I longed to hear the words spoken thatshould bind us to each other. But I dare not tell my father! I trowboth he and my mother would chide full sternly. In truth, I fear meit were scarce a maidenly act. But, O Cuthbert, love is sostrong--so hard a task master. Where he drives, it seems that oneneeds must go;" and she looked up at him with such arch appeal thathe felt those glances would go far to soften the sternest parentalheart. 

"In truth, I believe thee, fair coz, and I will keep thy secretfaithfully. It is safe with me; and I trust that all will endhappily when the lost treasure shall return to the house ofTrevlyn. "

And talking eagerly upon this theme, which was also to be keptsecret from all the world besides, the cousins walked towards thehouse. Cuthbert received a warm and hearty greeting from all hiskinsfolks there, who were pleased that he should have kept hispromise and have come to see them with the long days of earlysummer. 

Sir Richard and his wife were both pleased with the fashion inwhich the youth had developed; his intelligence and informationwere now plainly apparent, and had taken a fresh impetus from thenew surroundings in which he had found himself. He could talk withdiscrimination and insight on all the leading topics of the day, had plainly lost much of his old rusticity of thought and speech, and had become an interesting and self-possessed youth. 

But his errand was really to Philip, and to him he spoke in privateof his sister's story, and how she had promised to obey her fatherand to see him no more. Cuthbert could assure the disappointedlover that this was no indication of coldness on Petronella's part, but that it was done from a sense of filial duty, combined with afear of some violence on her father's part towards her lover shouldhe be provoked too far. Cuthbert was as certain as Philip couldwish that Petronella's heart was entirely his. He had read thegirl's secret in the tones of her voice and in the shy glances ofher soft eyes. He told Philip, too, of the gold that was awaitingthe girl in her uncle's keeping, and added that he was certain surethat Martin Holt would be glad enough to give it over to his nieceif she had a sturdy husband of the Reformed faith to take care ofher and it. His only fear was of its falling into the hands of thePapists, which thing would have been abhorrent to the grand sirewhose legacy the money was. That fear laid to rest, he would beglad to be rid of the charge, and to give over the gold to itsrightful owner. 

Philip's heart was with Petronella, and he had not concernedhimself as yet with any thoughts as to her poverty and his ownsomewhat impecunious position as his father's heir, but with threesisters to be provided for out of the revenues of the impoverishedestate. He was man of the world enough to know that this dowrywould do much to smooth his path when the time should come formaking known his case to his parents, but for the moment histhoughts were all with the lonely girl shut up so relentlessly byher father. 

"I will see Nicholas Trevlyn, " he said, with stern decision. "Things have gone too far not to go further. I will see him, andmake formal application for his daughter's hand. He can but refuseme, and I shall tell him plainly that I decline to give her up atany word of his. I can wait with patience till she is of age tojudge for herself; but she is the woman of my choice, and her alonewill I wed if she will have me. "

Cuthbert's face was grave and troubled. 

"And waiting for that, she may well be done to death within thosewalls, as I should have been had I not fled. I am in trouble ofheart anent my sister. I pray she may find her way to me yet in thefree forest!"

Philip started and looked surprised. 

"Is there likelihood of that?"

"I know not. I bid her come if our father should grow more harsh, and told her where I likeliest might be found. I purpose to dwellfor a while myself in the forest, albeit thou wouldst mock me ifthou knewest the wherefore. "

"To search for the lost treasure, I doubt not, " said Philip with asmile, remembering the talk of the autumn previous. "Marry thouhast my best wishes for a happy quest. But what couldst thou dowith a tender maid out in the woods with thee?"

"I scarce know that myself; but anything would be better than lifewith a madman--as I trow our father is like to become an he changenot his habit of life. Belike I would take her to mine uncle on thebridge; yet perchance he would not thank me for adding to hischarges. 

"If we had other relatives--"

"Why, and so ye have, even as we have. Hast never heard of my LadyHumbert and Mistress Dowsabel Wyvern? They must be kinsfolk ofthine as well as of ours, and they dwell not very far distant fromhere, albeit I myself have never visited them. "

Cuthbert raised his head and looked eagerly at Philip. 

"I would know more of that, " he said. 

"It is not much I can tell thee. This Lady Humbert is a widow, andis sister to that Gertrude Wyvern who was my grandam and thy aunt. Mistress Dowsabel is her younger sister; and albeit they are bothnow of a good old age, they dwell together, with only servants forcompany, in a house thou wouldst have passed on the road to Londonhadst thou not taken the lonelier way across the heath. My fatherand mother go each year to see after their welfare, and a lettercomes now and again from them with greetings or questions. We ofthe younger generation have never been to visit them, since theyare too old to wish for the presence of the young, and love not tosee the changeless current of their lives interrupted. I rememberthat of old, when we were in disgrace for some prank, our grandamwould shake her head at us and vow we should be sent to her sisterDowsabel for chastisement, and stay with her till we learned bettermanners. So we have grown up in the fancy that these kinswomen besomething stern and redoubtable ladies. Nevertheless, if thou wastto put thy sister beneath their care, I trow they would receive herwith kindness and treat her well, and she would scarce regret theGate House were the captivity never so hard. Nor would NicholasTrevlyn be like to seek her there, though at the Chase he wouldfind her at once, were we to strive to aid her flight as we aidedthine. "

Cuthbert saw this plainly, and asked a few more eager questionsabout these ladies and where they might be found. He hardly knewwhether or not he expected Petronella to flee away to him, but atleast it would do no harm to be prepared in case she did so. 

Philip told him all he knew, which was not much. The house would beeasily found, as it stood upon the highroad just a mile from alarge village, its gates opening straight upon the road, althoughat the back were gardens and pleasaunces and a clear trout stream. It seemed to Cuthbert as he listened that such a place as thismight prove a safe haven of refuge for his sister should one beneeded, and he resolved that if she once came to him he wouldpersuade her to place herself beneath the protection of theseladies. 

He would well have liked to see her again, to have whisperedsomething of this new plan into her ears. But though he lingeredmuch about the house during the two short weeks he spent at theChase, he saw no glimpse of his sister, and he did not dare tosummon her out to meet him at night, lest haply the suspicions ofthe grim old tyrant should be aroused. 

Leaving Philip fully determined to see Nicholas Trevlyn ere long, to lay before him his formal proposal for Petronella's hand, andconfident that all at the Chase would befriend her as far as it waspossible; Cuthbert, afraid to linger longer in the immediatevicinity of the Gate House, took his departure for the forest, resolved to give himself over heart and soul to the search afterthe missing treasure, and not to give it up until every nook andcorner of the pixies' dell had been subjected to the closestscrutiny. 

It was easy to obtain from Philip all such tools as would beneedful for the task of excavation. Although the young man himselfhad small hopes of Cuthbert's success, he was interested in spiteof himself in the proposed plan, and would have been more so had heknown how much had been already discovered. But Cuthbert kept muchof that to himself, not willing that tattling tongues should spreadthe rumour. Only to real believers in the hidden treasure did hecare to speak of the gipsy's strange words and the visit to thewise woman of Budge Row. Philip, he thought, would smile, andperhaps he would speak of the matter to his father, who in turnmight name it to some one else, and so it might come round, throughthe gipsy spies and watchers, to the ears of Long Robin himself. That, as Cuthbert well knew, would be well-nigh destruction to allhis cherished hopes; yet one who believed not would smile at hisfears, and could scarce be expected to observe the needful caution. 

As Cuthbert started for his nine miles' tramp in the cool of theevening, with his tools slung across his shoulders, he was glad tothink that he had resisted the temptation to speak openly of thismatter to any but Petronella and Kate. With them he well knew thesecret was safe, for they entertained for Long Robin just the samesuspicious fear as he did himself, and their lips were sealed evenas his own. 

The walk was nothing for his strong young limbs; but as heapproached the lonely dell, he instinctively slackened his speed, and proceeded with greater caution. The thick growth of the treesmade the place dark in spite of the moon, which hung low in the skyand shone between the trees in long silvery beams; and the tangledpath which once had led to the forest well had been long overgrownwith a mass of bramble and underwood, through which it was hard toforce a way. 

But Cuthbert cautiously proceeded, listening intently for anysounds of life to indicate the presence of Long Robin, the onlybeing likely to be near at such an hour; but all appeared to beintensely still, and presently he commenced his cautious descentinto the dell itself, and at last stood beside the old stone wallthat guarded the mouth of the well. 

Cuthbert had heard something of that well since he had been at hisuncle's house. Some of the old servants at the Chase knew theforest well, and he had been told the story of the pixies' dell:how it had once been a noted spot in the forest, and how travellersturned aside to drink the waters, which were not only fresh andclear and cold, even on the most sultry summer's day, but werereported to possess healing properties, especially if taken atcertain hours of the night and in certain phases of the moon. Longago there had been a monastery near the well, and the monks haddispensed the waters to the applicants who came. But the monasteryhad fallen into ruins and had disappeared, and after that thepixies were given the credit of the healing waters. People came todrink them, though less frequently than before; and as the placegrew more lonely and deserted, rumours began to float about thatthe pixies were inimical to man, and that the waters no longerpossessed their old power. Later on still, a more terrible thingwas discovered: it was said that it was death to approach that delland drink the waters. Men's bones had been found in great numbersclose about that spot, and it was plain that they must belong tothe unhappy wights who, disregarding cautions, had ventured to theplace, and had died before they could get away from thence. 

After that, as may well be guessed, no sick folks had cared totrouble the dell again. Travellers made a wide circuit to avoid it, and it was held to be the place of most evil repute in the forest. 

All this story was well understood by Cuthbert, who felt no fear ofthe spot, only a little natural awe as he recollected the deed thathad once been done there. The moon was going down as he lookedabout him; the dark hour before morning was about to fall upon theworld. He looked about for a resting place in which to concealhimself till he could commence his search, and found the place hedesired in a hollow tree, just beyond the circle of smooth swardthat surrounded the well itself. 

Plainly this tree had been used before for a like purpose. Theleaves had been carefully raked together within, and were coveredby a warm rug, in which Cuthbert was not sorry to wrap himself, forthe night air was sharp and chilly though the days were hot. 

"Long Robin's rug, or I greatly mistake me, " he said with a smile. "I trow he would be sore amazed were he to come and find me here. Howbeit he would but take me for a passing wayfarer, since he knowsnot my face, and I misdoubt me if he come tonight. He fears toomuch Joanna's watchful eyes and Miriam's jealous ones. I will sleepin peace till daylight dawns, and then I will begin my search. "

Sleep came quickly to the lad's eyes, but it was only light, forwith the first blush of dawn he awoke and prepared to commence hiswork. 

His tools he had hidden away beneath the heap of leaves which hadformed his bed, and he did not disturb them for the time being, butwalked forth and examined the dell for himself before making anyexcavation. 

First his attention was given to the patch of greensward around thewell; but this was so smooth and even that it seemed as if it hadnot been disturbed for ages. Such soft emerald turf, as Cuthbertwell knew, was the growth of centuries, and there was no sort oftrace or seam to indicate the handiwork of man. 

Round and round the open space he paced, his eyes fixed upon theground beneath his feet, his quick glance shifting from spot tospot, as he strove for some indication, however faint, of theexistence of some hidden hoard. 

"Yet it is certain to be well hid. It were strange if I did lightupon it in the first hour, " he said to himself at length, coveringhis disappointment with a smile. "I will break my fast with thegood fare given me by my fair cousin Kate, and will taste thewaters of the magic well. I trow I shall take no harm from them. Long Robin will scarce have poisoned the spring from which hehimself must ofttimes drink. "

Whilst he partook of his simple meal, he looked about him with keenand eager glances, wondering where he should next search, andstriving to see traces of footsteps in the sandy sides of the dell, or breaks in the tangled growth of underwood that would indicatesome track used by Robin. Cuthbert shrewdly suspected that he wouldnot be able to resist the temptation of going frequently to thespot where the buried treasure lay, to see if the ground remainedundisturbed, and he thought that the surest way of discovering thisspot was to seek for traces likely to be left by him; or, failingthese, to watch patiently from some obscure spot till the gipsycame again to the dell, when it was probable he might betray thesecret by his own movements. 

"If I dig and delve before the clue is mine, I may chance to puthim on his guard, and find nothing. No; I will be patient--I willbe very cautious. Success comes to him that can wait. Long Robin isa foe not to be despised or trifled with; I can tell that from hisown words and Joanna's. He would take a hundred lives to save hisgolden secret. He is cautious and cunning and wary. I must try tobe the same. "

All that long summer's day Cuthbert prowled up and down the dell, searching for some trace, however slight, which should give him theclue, and searching in vain. The only path where the undergrowthwas in any way trodden was the one by which he and Robin alikeapproached the well, the old, half-obliterated track that once hadbeen so freely used. All around the sides of the dell, fern andbramble, hazel and undergrowth of all kinds, grew in wildconfusion. Search as he would, Cuthbert could find nothing like apath of any kind. Did Robin indeed trust to that tangledundergrowth to keep his secret hid? And if so, what chance wasthere of its being found unless the whole dell was dug up?

A short while back it seemed so much to have found out this dell. When he had been resolved to search the whole forest through, nowonder the task had been practically impossible; but when he hadhad indications of a confined locality, he had looked upon his workas well-nigh accomplished, and had come here with a heart full ofhigh hopes. And now he was confronted by difficulties that appearedalmost as insurmountable as before; for he plainly saw thehopelessness of attempting single-handed to delve the whole dellover. Robin would return before the task was more than begun. Hewould guess the import, would set a close watch, and would slay thebold invader of his haunted dell without pity or remorse. Whilstthe only other plan, that of bringing a gang of men to work strongenough to be a guard to themselves, was simply out of the questionfor Cuthbert. He had no money himself. His uncle Martin wouldcertainly not give him the gold in the box for any suchhare-brained scheme; whilst to appeal to Sir Richard, with nothingto back his statements but what would be looked upon as old wives'fables and gipsy delusions, would only be to provoke ridicule andscorn. The Trevlyns had long given up the treasure as lost beyondrecall. They had no sort of hope of recovering it, and the presentowner of the Chase and his lady were in particular very greatlyaverse to any sort of dealings with occult magic and gipsy lore. 

Cuthbert had a shrewd notion that there was little enough of magicin any of the words and dark sayings he had heard. He had been letjust a very little behind the scenes, and had his own opinions onthe subject. His faith in spirits and familiars had been greatlyshaken; but he knew that his story would sound wild and improbable, and he was by no means sure that even Joanna would consent toappear before Sir Richard and repeat it all to him. She was anxiousto do her part towards making restitution; but, having put the cluein Cuthbert's hands, would very likely consider that part done, anddecline to be questioned further by any one. 

"What I do I must do alone, " said Cuthbert to himself, with a sigh, at the close of that day of toil and discouragement. "Well, Ishould have been mightily surprised had I lighted on the treasureat the close of the first day. I ought not to be thus discouraged, and yet I am. Still there is one more thing to do. If I can butwatch Long Robin, surely I shall learn somewhat from him. I vowthat that is better far than prowling aimlessly about the dell. Letme spend my time and strength in building for myself some nook highup in one of yon trees, from which vantage ground I may spy uponhis doings. If I can but get me up high enough, I can watch himfrom spot to spot. Sure I should be stupider than a daylight owl anI could not learn somewhat from his looks and actions on his nextvisit. And it will be safer for me to have mine own perch. I willventure to sleep one more night in the tree; but after that I willsleep by day and watch by night, for it is plain that he is a nightbird in his visits here. "

The next day Cuthbert set to work with a better heart. It was notdifficult to find the sort of nook he wanted high up in thebranches of a great sycamore. The oaks were hardly thick enough yetto conceal him, and the foliage of the elm was somewhat scantystill, for all that the season was forward. But by good hap therechanced to be, amongst the tall trees that fringed the round ofsward, a noble sycamore in full leaf and very thick; and byskillful contrivance, and with the help of his tools, Cuthbertquickly built himself up there a small but secure and commodiousplatform, upon which he could perch himself at ease and watch thewhole of the dell. Even if he fell asleep, he was in no danger offalling; and if he could obtain the needful supplies of food, hecould keep watch there unseen for an indefinite time. He had plentyof provision so far, for he had been supplied with dry and saltedprovisions enough to last a week. These he took up to his nest, andalso his tools, which he resolved to keep beside him for safety;and having spent the best part of the day in this labour ofingenuity and patience, and having then quenched his thirst by longdraughts of clear cold water, he ascended to his perch with anarmful of dried bracken--the eighth such load he had carriedup--and as he arranged his riding cloak upon the soft and fragrantcushion thus prepared, he said to himself with a smile that hecould afford to be patient now, for he had a commodious castle allhis own, and could await with patience the advance of the foe. 

His patience was not, however, destined to be very sorely taxed. Hehad fallen into a light sleep, and was dreaming of a hand-to-handstruggle with Long Robin, when some unwonted sound smote upon hisears, and he started up all alert on the instant. 

He knew that sound; he had heard it before. It was the wild, unearthly noise made by Robin to increase the fear of this dell inthe hearts of any chance wayfarers who might haply be withinhearing. In a few more seconds Cuthbert, peering down from hisleafy canopy, saw the tall form thrusting itself through theunderwood; and Robin, with a loud laugh, threw himself upon the lowwall of the pixies' well. 

He was talking and muttering to himself, but Cuthbert could notcatch the words. He seemed in a merry mood, for he laughed aloudonce or twice, and drank of the well and laughed again. OnceCuthbert thought he caught the words "treasure" and "safe, " but ofthat he could not be certain; and it was not easy to see how Robincould know this, seeing he had not stirred three paces from thewell. 

And then a sudden flash came into Cuthbert's soul like one ofinspiration. Suppose the treasure was in the well itself? What morelikely? Would not that be the safest place of all? For the preciousmetals would not hurt through contact with the water; and had henot heard that the waters of this well possessed peculiarproperties for preserving anything thrown into them?

Cuthbert's heart beat so fast that he almost feared Robin wouldhear his deep breathing; but the man was looking down into thewell, laughing to himself in the peculiarly malevolent fashion thatCuthbert had heard before. He never moved from the side of the wellfor the long hour he remained; and Cuthbert, waiting in feverishimpatience till he should be gone, felt as though he had neverknown an hour so long. 

But it ended at last. The tall figure reared itself upright, and heheard the voice distinctly now. 

"I must be going--I must be going. Miriam will be asking questions. That hag is the plague of my life. All safe--all safe. And now Iwill depart. "

The tall figure put on its stooping gait, which appeared to besecond nature, and went slouching away through the underwood alongthe narrow track. Cuthbert waited till there had been a long spellof perfect silence, and then he glided with cat-like caution to theground. 

"I may not be able to see anything by this light, not even theglint of gold beneath the clear waters. But he seemed to see. Helooked down and muttered, 'Safe--safe!' Beshrew me but I trow Ihave the secret now! The pixies' well--the hidden secret it guardsso well. All is true! all is true! Why did I not think of itbefore?"

Creeping to the side of the well, Cuthbert peered over the edge andgazed fixedly into the dark water. What was it he saw? Was thatmoonlight shining and glinting there; or was it--could it be--Hold, what is this?

With a stifled cry Cuthbert strove to spring to his feet; but theattempt was vain. He was encircled in the bear-like grip of a pairof arms that were strong as bands of iron around him. He felt asthough all the breath were being pressed out of him, and in his earthere rang a hideous laugh, the sound of which he knew but toowell. 

"Fool!" cried a hoarse voice, hissing the words in his ears--"foolof a mad boy to trust a treacherous gipsy tale! So thou thoughtestto outwit Long Robin! Thou thoughtest to win back the lost treasureto the house of Trevlyn! Mad boy--fool of a hardy knave! But yetthou shalt have thy wish--thou shalt have thy will. Thou shalt seewith thine own eyes that long-lost treasure. "

There was a cruel sneer in the man's eyes, a mocking inflection inhis voice, that sent a thrill of cold horror through Cuthbert'sveins. He was absolutely powerless in that merciless clasp. He feltthe strength leaving his limbs and his head turning giddy. He onlyjust knew it when he was laid upon the grass, his captor's kneefirmly planted on his chest; and then he felt his hands and feetbeing tightly and securely bound, whilst the stars in the skyseemed to reel and dance before his eyes, and he said to himself, without realizing the import of his own words:

"He is going to kill me; he is going to kill me. "

"Yes, I am going to kill thee, mad boy, " said Long Robin coolly, asthough he had heard the spoken word. "I am going to kill thee, as Ikill all those who dare to thwart my will or cross my path. I shallkill thee; but thou shalt first have the desire of thine eyes andof thine heart. Thou shalt see and thou shalt touch the long-losttreasure! Thou shalt learn the secret ere thou diest, and thy ghostcan impart it to thy friends. "

With a brutal and almost diabolical laugh, Long Robin rose to hisfeet and leaned over the well. He seemed to be raising from it someheavy weight, and Cuthbert heard a heavy thud fall upon the grass. 

"Now, thou shalt go to join the lost treasure. The Trevlyns whenthey find it will find their lost kinsman, too! Ha, ha! they arewelcome to that find; they are welcome to it!" and the man stoopedto lift the bound and helpless Cuthbert in his strong arms. 

Cuthbert closed his eyes. He knew well what was coming. A fall, asullen splash, one brief ineffectual struggle, and then blackdarkness. He tried to breathe a prayer, but could form no words. Hethought of Cherry, of Petronella, and sharp stabs of pain seemed torun through him. One minute more and all would be over. But what anendless minute that was, whilst he felt the grip upon his bodygrowing firmer as the giant prepared to lift him. 

What was that?

"Crack!"--a sudden flash from the dark underwood, and with a loudcry his captor dropped him, and staggered backwards, to fall a fewpaces farther on, where he lay rigid and motionless. Then from thethicket there came the sound of a quick sharp cry, and a slimfigure rushed forward with the gasping question:

"Is he dead? Oh, have I killed him?"

And Cuthbert, raising his head, and scarce believing aught of thiscould be anything but a fevered dream, uttered the one word:

"Petronella!"

Chapter 17: Brother And Sister. 

"Petronella! thou here!"

"Brother--brother mine--art thou hurt?"

"Never a whit, though I looked to be a dead man ere this. Sister, take my knife and cut my bonds; yon man may rise again, and I mustbe free to defend myself and thee. "

Petronella cast a scared and fearful glance at the long dark figurelying face downwards upon the sward, showing signs of life only bya spasmodic twitching of the limbs; and then drawing Cuthbert'slong hunting knife from his belt, she cut the cords that bound hishands and feet, and in another moment he sprang up and shookhimself, keeping a wary eye all the while upon the prostrate foe. But he did not go to his side at once; he was too keenly arousedand interested by this sudden appearance of his sister. 

"Petronella! I can scarce credit my senses. How comest thou here, and at such an hour?"

"I am doing as thou biddest me, " she answered in a low voice: "I amflying from our home, even as thou wast forced to fly. I verilybelieve that thou art right, and that our father is well-nigh mad. I dared not remain. Even old Martha feared to linger longer underthat roof. She has found safe refuge, I trust, at Trevlyn Chase. Thou didst go there, my brother, after parting from me?"

"Ay, verily I did, and stayed there a matter of some two weeks, ever hoping to see thy face again, and to hear how it fared withthee. But thou camest not. "

"I could not, " answered the girl, in the same low tone; "I was inmy bed, unable to move hand or foot, unable to know night from day. Cuthbert, the night I went forth to thee in the chantry our fathermissed me from the house. He thought I had gone to meet Philip inthe wood at night. He reviled me cruelly, and I feared to tell himit was thou I had gone to see. Then, I know not how, but I fear hestruck me. A great blackness came before mine eyes; and when Iopened them again a week or more had passed, and I knew, as I beganto understand what had chanced, that I could no longer remainbeneath the roof of the Gate House. "

Cuthbert ground his teeth in sudden fury. 

"Struck thee, my gentle sister! Nay, I can scarce credit it; andwere he any other than my father--"

"But he is our father, " answered the girl gently. "And trulymethinks, Cuthbert, that his lonely brooding has something unhingedhis mind. Let us think of him only with pity. "

Cuthbert put his arm about her tenderly. 

"Tell me the rest of thy story, sister. How camest thou here soopportunely, to play the part of Amazon and save thy brother'slife?"

She shivered a little, as if afraid even to think what she haddone, but her words were quietly and clearly spoken. 

"That is soon told. Old Martha nursed me back to health again, andour stern father hindered her not in her tendance of me. And thisvery night we made our plans, and she put a concoction of herbsinto his nightly potion, which caused him to sleep too sound toawake for any sound within or without the house. Then we softlystole away without let or hindrance--she to go to the Chase, I towalk across the moorland and forest as thou hadst bidden me, tofind thee here. "

"And thou didst arm thyself ere thou wentest forth?"

She looked up with strange earnestness into his face. 

"I know not if the thought were sin, Cuthbert, " she said, "but as Islipped through the dark house ere our flight, my eyes fell uponthat pair of heavy pistols always loaded that our father keeps everon the mantle shelf of the hall. I thought of the lessons thouhadst given me in old days, and knew I could pull the trigger wereI so minded, and send the bullet whizzing through the air. I had nothought of harming any man as I put forth my hand and took one ofthe weapons. I was thinking rather of myself. I had heard men speakof perils worse than death that may beset weak and helpless womenalone in the world. I knew not if I might find thee as I hoped. Icould not but fear that some mischance might keep us sundered. Ithought of my father's cruel wrath should he discover my flight, and pursue and overtake. It seemed to me, standing in the darknessof the old Gate House, that it would be better to perish than to bedragged thither again to die of misery and harsh captivity. I saidwithin myself, 'Sure, if it be sin, it is one that God wouldpardon. It is not well for me to go forth without some weapon whichmight end all, were it to be the less peril to die than to live. 'And so I took the pistol and carried it in my girdle. "

"And then?"

"Then we went forth together, and Martha walked with me awhile. Butas I felt the clear fresh air of the night fanning my cheek, andthe dewy sweetness of the grass beneath my feet, I grew strong andfull of courage. I felt certain by what thou hadst told me that Iwas on the right track. The moon and the stars shone in the sky andguided my steps. I sent Martha away, and journeyed on alone. It wassweet to find myself free, to see the heavens above my head, and tohear the soft night breezes. In the clear brightness of the night Icould see far about me, and I knew that I was alone and had naughtto fear. Thanks to Martha's good nursing and the food she hadcontrived for me, I was stronger than I had been for many long daysand weeks. It was happiness to use my limbs, and I was not weariedby my journey. I entered the forest track at last, and quicklyfound the path that thou hadst spoken to me of. I knew then that Iwas near my journey's end, and my heart was light within me. "

"Didst thou not fear the dark wood and the many strange sounds ofthe night?"

"I feared somewhat, but chided myself for that fear. But it waswell I felt it, else might I not have crept along as I did withsuch mouse-like stillness; and but for that, yon man"--with ashuddering glance at Long Robin on the ground--"would surely havefound me. "

Cuthbert started and asked her how that was. 

"I will tell thee, brother. I was drawing very nigh this dell, andI felt as by some instinct that it was close at hand, when I heardthe sound of footsteps coming thence, and I well-nigh ran forthcalling thee by name, for I felt assured it must be thou. But thensome impulse of fear possessed me, and I trembled in every limb, and instead of running forth to meet him who was coming, I hidmyself within the shadows of a deep hollow tree, scarce daring tobreathe lest I should be discovered. And scarce had I done thisbefore a tall figure crept out along the path, and halted so closebeside me that I well-nigh screamed aloud in my terror, for Ithought for sure I was discovered. But no: he had not paused forthat, and as he stood scarce three ells from my hiding place Iheard him mutter to himself; and I knew by what thou hadst told me, and by his tall form and long white beard, that it was Long Robinwho was so near. 

"And couldst thou hear what he said?"

"I could hear many words, and fierce ones, too--words that made myflesh creep, and turned me sick with fear for thee, my brother. Hemuttered that he was watched and spied upon. He spoke of otherfootfalls than his own in the dell, and cursed Joanna for strivingto outwit him, vowing he would slay her if once he found that shehad dared to set others to watch him. He spoke the name of Trevlynonce or twice. It was as if he had heard somewhat of thee and ofthine errand to the Gipsy Queen--something he must surely haveheard, else could he not have spoken of the 'Trevlyn spawn, ' andwhat he would do if one of that 'brood' dared to come betwixt himand his design. And then he leaned against a tree and waited, listening with an intentness that showed a deep suspicion; and hemust have heard sounds that I could not--for my heart beat sowildly I feared he would hear it where he stood--and he smote hishands softly together and laughed a low laugh like that of ademon. "

"I have heard that laugh; I know it well, " whispered Cuthbert. "Itis indeed what thou callest it. Doubtless he heard my cautiousdescent from the tree. What did he then?"

"I heard his next words plainly, and they sent a thrill of coldhorror through me, for too well I divined their import. 

"'He is there!' he hissed between his teeth--'he is there! I shallcatch him red handed in the act. Good! He shall not leave the dellalive; he shall join the seven who strove before to know too much. Long Robin's hand has not lost its cunning, and it will strike themore heartily when aimed against one of the false, hateful brood. '

"And then, Cuthbert, I saw it all in a moment. I knew that thouwert in the glen, and that he was going forward to kill thee. Andfor a moment my head swam, and I well-nigh swooned with terror, andcould not even lift my voice to shout to thee and warn thee to flyfor thy life. "

"It was well thou didst not, " answered Cuthbert; "for I shouldscarce have heard or understood, and he would but have turned hisdestroying hand against thee ere he went forward to slay me. Thoudidst do better than cry aloud, my sister. "

She shivered slightly and pressed close up to him. 

"When the mist passed from my eyes and I could see, Long Robin wasno more there, and in awful fear what might even then be happening, I stole down as fast as my trembling limbs would carry me towardsthe centre of the dell. Ere I could see aught I heard thy voiceraised in a sharp cry, Cuthbert, and then I heard fierce, cruelwords spoken, mingled with that laugh that makes the blood runchill in the veins. I crept as fast as I could through the tangledunderwood, and then I saw before me a terrible sight. Yon man wasbinding thee hand and foot with bonds that thou couldst not break, and I knew that he would kill thee without mercy, even as he hadthreatened. It was then that I remembered for the first time theweapon I carried at my side, and as I took it in my hands I felt astrange coldness come upon me. I trembled no longer. I felt calmand resolute and fearless. I crept cautiously out of the brushwood, though I kept still in the shadow of the trees, and I drew nearerand nearer, expecting every instant to be seen. I dared not firetill I was very close. It was long since I had discharged such aweapon, and I knew well that thy life and mine both hung upon thatone charge. Robin rose suddenly to his feet after binding thee, andI thought for certain I was seen. But no; he turned and leaned overthe well, and drew forth from it yon huge round slab of stone, which he flung there on the grass as thou seest it. When his backwas thus turned I crept nearer yet. I would have fired then, butstill feared to miss. Then he bent over thee and lifted thee in hisarms. He could not see me then, he was too much engrossed in histask. I saw well what he meant to do--to fling thee bound andhelpless into the well, where the lost treasure, methinks from hiswords, must lie. 

"The rest thou knowest. Coming up close behind, I fired my pistol. He dropped thee and fell himself, and I feared that he was dead. Brother, it is something fearful to have killed a man, though itwas to save life. Wilt thou not go to him and see if he yet lives?We ought to show charity even to our foes. "

Cuthbert was willing enough to do this since he had heard hissister's story, which had not taken many minutes in the telling. Hewent across to the spot where Long Robin lay, and turned him gentlyover. 

Although the sight of death was by no means familiar to Cuthbert, it took only one glance to show him that this man was dying ordead. His face was ghastly and drawn, and his limbs were alreadygrowing rigid and motionless. The heavy charge of the pistol haddone its work surely and fully: the bullet had passed through thespine, and had entered the vital organs. There was little effusionof blood, but death was delayed only a few minutes. Even asCuthbert looked at him, the man gave a deep groan. His eyelidsflickered a few moments, and then his jaw dropped, a quiver passedthrough his frame, which then became absolutely still. 

Cuthbert shook his head. 

"He is dead!" cried Petronella, in a voice of compunction andawe--"he is dead; and I have killed him!"

She put her hands before her eyes and shivered. It was something ofa terror to her that she should have done this thing. She shook inevery limb. 

"I did not mean to kill him--I never thought of killing him; I onlythought of how to save thee, Cuthbert. O brother, brother, whatshall I do? Will they hang me for it?"

"Never, " cried Cuthbert, throwing his strong arm about her andsmiling at her words. "Sweet Petronella, thou hast naught to fear. This man has long been an outlaw and a robber. He has many lives toanswer for himself, as well as innumerable acts of violence withrobbery. Even were it not so, thou couldest not be held in any wiseguilty by law either of God or man. May Heaven forgive me if I sin, but I am right glad thy bullet did its work so well. Our enemy thusremoved from our path, the secret of the lost treasure lies withthee and me. Petronella, I doubt it not for a moment now, thattreasure lies at the bottom of the pixies' well. My only wonder isthat none have thought of this before. "

Petronella pointed to the circular slab lying wet and sparkling inthe moonlight upon the sward beside the well. 

"Look there!" she said: "it is that that has helped to hide thesecret so long. Robin is cunning. He is deep, he is full ofartifice. He has given to the well a false bottom, of whichperchance none knows but himself. He knows how to raise it from thewell, as I saw him do; but all the world beside would hold it intruth to be the well's bottom. Beneath yon slab the treasure lies. Cuthbert, thou hast found the secret. Thou wilt be the one torestore the fortunes of our house. "

"Methinks it will be more thou than I, sweet sister, " answeredCuthbert, gladly and proudly, as he leaned over the low stone walland gazed eagerly into the deep, dark water. "And right glad am Ithat we should be together when we find the treasure trove. Canstsee aught in yon deep hole, Petronella?"

She shook her head. 

"Nor I neither. We must wait for daylight for that, and thenperchance it will not reveal itself to our eyes. Yet it is there. Iam certain sure of it; and although it may be something difficultto rescue even now, I doubt not that with patience and time we maysucceed. Petronella, I will tomorrow to the village nighest athand, whilst thou dost rest up in yon tree out of the way of allharm, where I have prepared a place of comfort. I will purchasethere a suit of boy's clothes for thee to wear whilst thou dostshare my forest life; it will be safer for thee, and morecommodious likewise. I will also buy us victuals and a coil ofrope. Then we twain can set to work over our task, and it will bestrange indeed if we be balked in it, seeing that the hardest partis already accomplished. The secret is ours!"

Petronella's eyes sparkled beneath their heavy fringes. There was aspice of adventure and romance about this that could not but bedelightful to any young spirit. 

"Thou wilt not then tell our kinsfolk at the Chase, and ask theiraid in this?"

Cuthbert shook his head. 

"I will tell no man aught. I will ask for nothing till the treasureis in mine own hands!" he cried, with a gesture of triumph andpride. "They would believe naught when I spoke of the treasurebefore. They might even yet laugh us to scorn were we to tell ourtale and point to the well as the place. No: we have done all alonethus far; let us do all alone even to the end. Time presses not. Wehave the summer before us. We have possession of this dell, whereno foot but that of yon dead man ever dared to tread. He thusremoved from our path, none else will spy upon us nor hinder us. Weare safer here than in any other spot in the forest. 

"Say, sister, wilt thou be my helper in this labour, be it small orgreat?"

She laid her hand trustingly in his; her dark eyes glowed. 

"Gladly, gladly will I share the labour and the toil, my brother. OCuthbert, it seems a happy and a fitting thing that the luck of thehouse should return to the Trevlyns of the Chase through the twopoor cousins whom they befriended in their hour of need. They werekind to us when our life was darkest; it will be sweet to thinkthat they will win happiness through us. "

"Ay, and Philip's bride will be no longer a portionless damsel, butwill have gold enough and to spare. Sweet sister, Philip hathspoken to me openly of his love. He hath been ere this to ask theeat thy father's hand. "

"Ay, and was driven forth with blows and curses. "

"Thou hast heard it? But thinkest thou he will take that for ananswer? Nay, Petronella, thou wilt one day be his bride; and I willgive thee to him with a joyful heart, for he loved thee in the daysof our poverty and distress; so that one knows his love is for theeand thee alone, not for the fair dowry thou wilt presently bring. "

Petronella hid her happy, blushing face on her brother's shoulder, and thus they stood awhile, till the girl drew back with a lightshiver and said:

"Cuthbert, can it be right for us thus to stand thinking of our ownhappiness, whilst he lies there so still and cold?"

"I was just about to bid thee give me leave to bury him, whilstthou dost rest thyself awhile. We will not grudge him that lastservice; and it will be safer and better to do it here than to givenotice of his death to the gipsies and outlaws, and so bring themdown upon us in this place, provoking perchance their vengeanceupon ourselves. I have here a spade, brought to dig after thetreasure. I little thought it would first be used to dig LongRobin's grave. But the task had better be done, and that quickly. The man is dead as a stone. We will bury him away out of our sightere we do aught beside. "

Petronella assented with a slight shudder. She could not regret thedeath of the giant gipsy, who himself made so light of human life, and would have slain her brother before her eyes without a qualm. But she shivered each time she looked at the motionless form, andwas glad when, after some hours of hard work beneath the trees, Cuthbert succeeded in dragging the corpse away and in covering itup from sight. Kneeling beside the rude grave, the girl breathed aprayer for the soul of the departed man, and repeated many an aveand paternoster, in the hope of smoothing for him his passage intoeternity (being still considerably imbued with the teachings of herearly life, which the newer and clearer faith had by no meanseradicated), and then she rose comforted and relieved, feeling asthough a dark weight had passed from her spirit. 

Daylight had now come, and the girl was very weary. She looked sowan and white that Cuthbert was alarmed, and fed her tenderly withthe best his wallet could supply; after which he took her up to hisnest in the sycamore, first bringing the rug that was lying in thehollow tree to wrap around her. There he succeeded in making her socomfortable and secure that she fell asleep almost at once, and hewas hopeful she would sleep the whole time of his absence, for shewas worn out with fatigue, and only just recovering from anillness. How she had borne the fatigues of that night he scarceknew; but she possessed her share of the Trevlyn tenacity ofpurpose, and her strong will had conquered the feebleness of herframe. 

It was a satisfaction to see her sink into a tranquil sleep, andsecure in the certainty that she could not be seen by any personentering the dell. Certain that none but a chance traveller everdid come nigh this haunted spot, he was not afraid to leave her;and after studying the simple contrivance by which the round slabwas raised and lowered in the well, he dropped it to its formerposition, and went on his way to the village with a light heart. 

The secret of the lost treasure, he was fully certain, was now his;and though the work of rescue might require time and patience andlabour, he was convinced it could be accomplished, and that he, with the help of his sister, should find himself competent for thetask. 

It was evening before he returned, but he found Petronella where hehad left her. She had slept almost unbrokenly throughout the day, and was now greatly refreshed and invigorated. The air of theforest and the sweet breath of the pines were enough, as she said, to give her new life; and she descended eagerly to meet and greether brother, and to examine the purchases he had made. 

The first excitement was the ass who bore the heavy load. Cuthberthad had some trouble in making a way for the creature to pass downinto the dell; but once here, he would never stray away of his ownaccord. Indeed, he appeared to have no disposition that way, for hebegan at once to crop the emerald sward around the well with an airof great contentment, whilst Cuthbert unloaded him and displayedhis purchases to his sister. 

"There is thy suit, young Peter, " he said with a smile. "I trowthou wilt make a pretty boy, and wilt find thyself more fitted forour new life thus habited, and canst rove in the forest thus clad, an thou hast a mind that way, more safely than thou couldest in amaid's dress. And here is wine to put some colour into thy palecheeks, and food to last us many a day, and blankets to wrap aboutus by night when the wind blows chill, and this heavy cloak to keepthe rain from thee when the skies weep. And see, here is a ropewhich I trow will let me to the very bottom of the well, an we canonce turn the water some other way; and the ass can drag me forthagain--and the treasure likewise--when once this matter has beenaccomplished. The hot, dry weather is coming apace. Men say alreadythat the springs be something low. All this favours our plans; andif I can find the spring that feeds this well, as like enough Imay, then will I make shift to turn its waters another way, and thepixies' well shall be dry!"

Petronella gazed at him in surprise. 

"Brother, whence comes all this knowledge to thee? I should neverhave dreamed such a thing might be!"

"But I have read of such things being done ere now, " answeredCuthbert eagerly. "I have spent many an hour at Master Cole's shopupon the bridge reading of such matters--how men mine andcounter-mine, and dig and delve, and sink wells and drain them, anddo many strange things of which we never dreamed in past days. Intimes of war it is wondrous how many shifts of that or like kindthey think of and perform. I little thought how soon I myselfshould want some such thing accomplished; but I read all eagerly, and Master Anthony Cole explained much that perplexed me; and Itrow I might e'en do some such thing myself, with thee and thispatient beast to help me in my toil!"

It was with undisguised admiration that Petronella regarded herbrother, and very happy and merry was the meal taken togetherbeside the well under the green-wood trees. It was hard to realizethat this smiling girl, with the faint pink bloom in her cheek, andthe bright eager eyes, was the cowed and sorrowful Petronella of afew days back. Cuthbert looked at her with glad pride as she talkedto him and petted the docile ass, who came and stood beside themand got a full share of such things as were pleasant to his palate. Petronella had never had the care of a live thing before, and wasdelighted with the affection shown towards her at once by thegentle creature. 

Her sleep that night in the tree was sound and refreshing; and whenshe joined Cuthbert, dressed in her suit of boys' garments;laughing, blushing, and delighted with the freedom of motion thatthey gave her; he found it hard to believe it was reallyPetronella, and vowed it would not be hard to call her Peter, forthat there was little enough of the Petronella of old days to befound in her. 

And from that day forward a happy life began for the brother andsister thus strangely located in the pixies' dell. Each day saw thegirl growing stronger, brighter, and happier, till she couldscarcely believe it was so short a time since she had fled from herfather's house; whilst Cuthbert, intent upon his plans and hisengineering operations, grew brown and muscular and self reliant, watching carefully and tenderly over his sister, but spending histime in healthful toil, and in working out self-imposed problems, confident that these would in the end succeed in enabling him tocarry out the purpose of his heart. 

The pixies' well proved very deep. Soundings taken by the ropeshowed that only too clearly. The water flowed three feet over thefalse bottom Robin had contrived the better to conceal his hidingplace, whilst below that there was fully ten feet of water; andPetronella's face grew long as she saw the result of the sounding, for she could not imagine how any treasure could be got at that laythirteen feet below the surface of the water. 

"Never mind that, sister mine, " said Cuthbert. "Belike it is tothat very fact that it owes its long safety. Even Robin must haveknown that to bring it forth again must be a matter of time andpatience. He could not visit it in a moment of haste or fright, andfilch a piece away as he would. Doubtless the place was chosen bythe old Long Robin of past days for the very difficulty there mustbe in bringing forth the prize. I have often thought that no buriedtreasure could so long have escaped prying hands and covetousspirits. Bit by bit some would have gone. It is the water that hasbeen the best protection. "

Petronella saw the force of that argument; but as she leaned overthe wall, trying to peer into the dark depths whilst Cuthberttalked of his scheme for draining it dry, she heaved a little sigh, and said:

"And what if, after all that long labour, there be no treasurethere in spite of all we believe?"

He looked a little taken aback, but was struck by the practicalnature of the suggestion. He pondered awhile, and then he spoke. 

"That is a thought worthy of consideration, " he said. "It were afoolish thing to waste the whole summer only to be deceived in theend. 

"Peter, " he added suddenly, as if struck by a new idea, "I am nofearer of water. I can dive and swim, and I have long wind, and canhold my breath a great while. Thinkest thou that if I were to leapinto the well and dive to the bottom, thou couldst give me the ropewhen I reappeared, and with the aid of the ass pull me forth again?I can dive through the water, I trow, albeit the well is none toowide. But I could not climb the steep stone sides; thou and the assmust help me there. "

Petronella was a little timid of the experiment lest harm shouldbefall her brother, and persuaded him at last to tie the rope abouthim ere he dived, so that in the event of his striking his head, orin any other way hurting himself, she would have power to pull himup and out, even if he should have lost consciousness. After makingher promise not to use this power unless she were fully persuadedhe was in some difficulty and unable to help himself, Cuthbertconsented to this amendment; and when all preparations werecomplete he balanced himself for a moment on the edge of the well, and then launched himself downwards in a line as straight as anarrow. 

Eagerly and breathlessly Petronella watched for his reappearance, holding her own breath the while, as though in some way that wouldhelp the diver. He was long gone, as it seemed to her. She had beenforced to take one deep respiration, and was almost tempted to pullat the rope in her hand, when the water suddenly became againdisturbed and full of bubbles, and a head appeared above it again. 

"Cuthbert!" she exclaimed, in a tone of glad relief, "O Cuthbert, what hast thou found?"

He was clinging to the rope with one hand; the other was beneaththe water out of sight. He raised his eyes, and said between hisgasping breaths:

"Draw me up; the water is chill as ice!"

From the sound of his voice she could not tell whether success hadcrowned the attempt or not. She turned without another word, andled the donkey onwards, gently drawing Cuthbert from the depths ofthe well. As she did so he gave a sudden shout of triumph, andspringing over the side of the wall, flung at her feet a solidgolden flagon richly chased, with the arms of the Trevlyns engravedupon it. 

"I scarce dared to look at what I had got as I came up!" he cried, as he sprang high into the air in the exuberance of his spirit;"but that will lay all doubt at rest. The lost treasure of Trevlynis lost no longer, and Cuthbert and Petronella have found it!"

Chapter 18: "Saucy Kate. "

"Wife, what ails the child?"

Lady Frances Trevlyn raised her calm eyes from her embroidery, andgave one swift glance around the room, as if to make sure that sheand her husband were alone. 

"Dost thou speak of Kate?" she asked then in a low voice. 

"Ay, marry I do, " answered Sir Richard, as he took the seat besidethe glowing hearth, near to his wife's chair, which was his regularplace when he was within doors. "I scarce know the child again insome of her moods. She was always wayward and capricious, but asgay and happy as the day was long--as full of sunshine as a Maymorning. Whence come, then, all these vapours and reveries andbursts of causeless weeping? I have found her in tears more oftthese last three months than in all the years of her life before;and though she strives to efface the impression by wild outbreaksof mirth, such as we used of old to know, there is something hollowand forced about these merry moods, and the laugh will die away themoment she is alone, and a look will creep upon her face that Ilike not to see. "

"Thou hast watched her something closely, Richard. "

"Ay, truly I have. I would have watched any child of mine upon whomwas passing so strange a change; but thou knowest that Kate hasever been dear to me--I have liked to watch her in her tricksymoods. She has been more full of affection for me than her graversisters, and even her little whims and faults that we have had tocheck have but endeared her to me the more. The whimsies of thechild have often brought solace to my graver cares. I love Kateright well, and like not to see this change in her. What dost thouthink of it, goodwife?"

Lady Frances shook her head gravely. 

"Methinks the child has something on her mind, and her sistersthink so likewise, but what it is we none of us can guess. Shekeeps her secret well. "

"It is not like Kate to have a secret; it is still less like her tohide it. "

"That is what I feel. I have looked day by day and hour by hour forher to come to me or to thee to tell what is in her mind. But theweeks have sped by and her lips are still sealed, and, as thousayest, she is losing her gay spirits, or else her gaiety is overwild, but doth not ring true; and there is a look in her eyes thatnever used to be there, and which I like not. "

"I know the look well--one of wistful, unsatisfied longing. It goesto my heart to see it there. And hast thou noted that the bloom ispaling in her cheeks, and that she will sit at home long hours, dreaming in the window seat or beside the hearth, when of old shewas for ever scouring the woods, and coming home laden with flowersor ferns or berries? I like it not, nor do I understand it. Andthou sayest her sisters know not the cause? I thought that youngmaidens always talked together of their secrets. "

"Kate doth not. I have talked with Cecilia anent the matter, andshe knows not the cause. Bess has opined that this change firstappeared when it was decided that we went not to London this year, as we had talked of doing earlier in the summer. Bess says shenoted then how disappointed Kate appeared; and she is of opinionthat she has never been the same since. "

Sir Richard stroked his beard with meditative gravity, and lookedinto the fire. 

"It is true that the change has come upon her since that decisionwas made; and yet I find it something difficult to think that suchwas the cause. Kate never loved the life of the city, and was wildwith delight when she first tasted the sweets of freedom in thesewoods and gardens. She loves her liberty right well, and has said athousand times how glorious a thing it is to range at will as shedoes here. Capricious as the child has often shown herself, it ishard to believe that she is pining already for what she left withso glad a heart. It passes my understanding; I know not what tothink. "

Lady Frances raised her eyes for a moment to her husband's face, and then asked quietly:

"Hast thou ever thought whether some secret love may be the causeof all?"

The knight started and looked full at his wife. 

"I have indeed thought some such thing, but I can scarce believethat such is the case with our Kate. "

"Yet it is often so when maidens change and grow pale and dreamy, and sit brooding and thinking when erst they laughed and played. Kate is double the woman she was six months gone by. She will sitpatiently at her needle now, when once she would throw it asideafter one short hour; and she will seek to learn all manner ofthings in the still room and pantry that she made light of a shortwhile back, as matters of no interest or concern to her. She wouldmake an excellent housewife if she had the mind, as I have alwaysseen; and now she does appear to have the mind, save when her fitsof gloom and sadness be upon her, and everything becomes a burden. "

Sir Richard looked aroused and interested. A smile stole over hisface. 

"Our saucy Kate in love, and that secretly! Marry, that issomething strange; and yet I am not sorry at the thought, for Ifeared her fancy was something too much taken by her cousinCulverhouse; and since his father must look for a large dower forhis son's bride, our Kate could never have been acceptable to him. Nor do I like the marriage of cousins so close akin, albeit inthese times men are saying that there be no ill in such unions. "

Lady Frances shook her head gravely. 

"I would sooner see daughter of mine wedded in a lowlier sphere. Myheart shrinks from the thought of seeing any child of ours in thehigh places of this world. There be snares and pitfalls aboundingthere. We have seen enough to know so much. There be bitterstrivings and envyings and hatreds amongst those of lofty degree. Iwould have my children wed with godly and proper men; but I wouldsooner give them to simple gentlemen of no high-sounding title, than to those whose duties in life will call them to places roundabout the throne, and will throw them amidst the turmoil of Courtlife. "

Sir Richard smiled at this unworldly way of looking at things; butthe Trevlyns had suffered from being somewhat too well known atCourt, and he understood the feeling. 

"Truly we live in perilous times, " he said thoughtfully, "andobscurity is often the best security for happiness and well being. But to return to Kate. If she is truly forgetting her girlish fancyfor her cousin, as I would gladly believe--and she has not set eyeson him this year and more--towards whom can her fancy be straying?"

"Thou dost not think she can be pining after her cousin?"

"Nay, surely not, " was the quick and decided answer. "Had she pinedit would have been at the first, when they were separated from eachother, and thou knowest how gay and happy she was then. It is butthese past few months that we have seen the change. Depend upon it, there is some one else. Would that it might be good Sir RobertFortescue, who has been here so much of late, and has paid muchattention to our saucy Kate! Wife, what thinkest thou of that? Heis an excellent good man, and would make a stanch and true husband. He is something old for the child, for sure; but there is noknowing how the errant fancy of maidenhood will stray. "

"I would it might be so, " answered Lady Frances. "Sir Robert is agood and a godly man, and I would gladly give our restless, capricious Kate to one who could be father and husband in one. ButI confess the thought had not come to me, nor had I thought that hecame hither to seek him a wife. "

Sir Richard smiled meaningly. 

"Nor had I until of late; but I begin to think that is his object. He pays more heed to the girls than he did when first he came tovisit us, and he has dropped a word here and a hint there, allpointing in one direction. And dost thou not note that our Kate isoften brightest and best when he is by? I had never thought beforethat her girlish fancy might have been caught by his gray hair andsoldier-like air; yet many stranger things have happened. Wife, dost thou think it can be?"

"I would it were; it would be well for all. I will watch and see, and do thou likewise. I had not thought the child's fancy thustaken; but if it were so, I should rejoice. He would be a goodhusband and a kind one, and our headstrong second daughter willneed control as well as love in the battle of life. "

So the parents watched with anxious eyes, eager to see someindication which should encourage them in this newly-formulatedhope. When once the idea had been started, it seemed to both as ifnothing could be better than a marriage between their high-spiritedbut affectionate and warm-hearted daughter and this knight of fortysummers, who had won for himself wealth and fame, and a soldier'sreputation for unblemished honour and courage in many foreignlands. If not exactly the man to produce an immediate impression onthe heart of a young girl, he might well win his way to favour intime; and certainly it did seem as though Kate took pleasure inlistening to his stories of flood and field, whilst her bright eyesand merry saucy ways (for she was still her old bright self attimes, and never more frequently so than in the company of SirRobert) appeared very attractive to him. 

When we are increasingly wishful for a certain turn in affairs, andbegin sedulously to watch for it, unconsciously setting ourselvesto work to aid and abet, and push matters on to the desiredconsummation, it is wonderful how easy it is to believe all isgoing as we wish, and to see in a thousand little triflingcircumstances corroboration of our wishes. Before another fortnighthad sped by, Kate's parents had almost fully persuaded themselvesof the truth of their suspicion. They were convinced that theattachment between their child and their guest was advancingrapidly, and a day came when Sir Richard sought his wife with avery happy expression of countenance. 

"Well, wife, the doubt will shortly be at an end. Sir Robert hasspoken openly at last. "

"Spoken of his love for our Kate?"

"Not in these words, but the meaning is the same. He has asked meif I am willing to entrust one of my daughters to his keeping. "

"One of our daughters?" repeated Lady Frances. "And did he not nameKate? He cannot love them all. "

"He spoke of Cecilia and Kate both, " answered Sir Richard. "SirRobert is not a hot-headed youth, full of the fire of a firstpassion. He wishes an alliance with our house, and he sees thatCecilia, with her four years' seniority, would perchance in theeyes of the world be the more suitable wife; and he admires herbeauty, and thinks well of her dutifulness, her steadiness, and hermany virtues. Yet it is Kate that takes his fancy most, and if hecould hope to win the wayward fancy and the warm heart of oursecond child, she is the one whom he would fain choose as his own. He has spoken freely and frankly to me, and it comes to this: hewould willingly marry Cecilia, and doubtless make her an excellenthusband, and value the connection with the house of Trevlyn; but ifhe could succeed in winning the love of our saucy Kate, he wouldsooner have her than the more staid sister, only he fears his grayhairs and his wrinkles will unfit him as a suitor for the child. But we, who suspect her heart of turning towards him, have littlefear of this. Kate's sharp eyes have looked beneath the surface. She has shown that she has a wise head upon her shoulders. So Itold Sir Robert--"

"Not that the child had loved him unbidden, I trust, my husband? Iwould not have him think that!"

"Verily no, goodwife; but I told him there was no man living towhom I would more gladly give a daughter of mine; and that I wouldsound both of the maidens, and see how their hearts were settowards him. But I trow he went away happy, thinking he might winKate after all. I could not but whisper a word of hope, and tellhim how wondrous tame the wild bird had latterly become, and howthat her mother had wondered whether thoughts of love had enteredinto her head. "

Lady Frances smiled, half shaking her head the while, yet notentirely displeased even with such an admission as that. She hadbeen watching her daughter closely of late, and she had tried tothink as she wished to think; the consequence being that she hadreached a very decided conclusion in accordance with her desires, and had small doubts as to the state of her daughter's heart. 

"I verily believe the child's sadness has come from the fear thather youth will stand as a bar to her happiness. She knows SirRobert is old enough to be her father, and fears that hisattentions are paid as to a child. Thus has she striven to growmore wise, more womanly, more fit to be the mistress of his house. Methinks I see it all. And what is the next thing to be done? Mustwe speak with the child?"

"Ay, verily; for I have promised an answer to Sir Robert beforemany days have passed. He is to come again at the week's end, andhis bride is to be presented to him. Thinkest thou that Ceciliawill be grieved to find her younger sister preferred before her?Does she, too, think aught of Sir Robert?"

"I trow she likes him well, though whether she has thought of himas husband or lover I know not. She is more discreet than Kate, andcan better hide her feelings. I doubt not were her hand asked shewould give it gladly; but more than that I cannot say. "

"Then let us hope her heart has not been deeply touched, for Ishould be sorry to give her pain. But let us incontinently send forKate hither at once to us. I shall rejoice to see the light ofuntroubled happiness shining once again in those bright eyes. Iwould fain see my saucy Kate her own self again ere she leaves usas a wedded wife. "

So Kate was summoned, and came before her parents with something oftimidity in her aspect, looking furtively from one to the other, asif a question trembled on her lips that she did not dare to utter. 

She had changed in many ways from the gay, laughing girl of a fewmonths back. There were the same resolution and individuality inthe expression of the face, and the delicate features had by nomeans lost all their old animation and bloom; but there was greaterdepth in the dark eyes, and more earnestness and gravity in theexpression of both eyes and mouth. There was added sweetness aswell as added thoughtfulness; and mingling strangely with thesenewer expressions was one still stranger on the face of Kate--alook of shrinking, almost of fear, as though she were treading somedangerous path, where lurked hidden perils that might at any momentoverwhelm her. 

The swift look of wistful questioning, the nervous movements of theslim hands, the parted lips and quickly coming breath, were notlost upon the parents, who were watching the advance of theirdaughter with no small interest and curiosity. But the smile uponboth faces seemed to reassure the girl; and as her father held outhis hand, she came and stood beside him willingly, looking from oneto the other with fluttering breath and changing colour. 

"You sent for me, my father?"

"Yes, Kate; we have somewhat to say to thee, thy mother and I. Canst guess what that something is?"

A vivid blush for a moment dyed her cheek and as quickly faded; butshe did not speak, only shook her head. 

Sir Richard gave his wife a quick smile, and took Kate's hand inhis. 

"My child, " he said, with unwonted tenderness, "why hast thou beenkeeping a secret from thy mother and me?"

Kate started and drew her hand away, moving a pace farther off, andregarding her father with wide open, dilated eyes. 

"A secret!" she faltered, and grew very pale. 

Sir Richard smiled, and would have taken her hand once more, butthat she glided from his reach, still watching him with anexpression he found it hard to read. Her mother laid down herembroidery, and studied her face with a look of aroused uneasiness;but the father was utterly without suspicion of approaching anyhidden peril, and continued in the same kindly tones. 

"Nay, now, my girl, thou needest not fear!" he said. "All youngmaidens give their hearts away in time; and so as thou givest thineworthily, neither thy father nor thy mother will chide. "

Kate gave one or two gasps, and then spoke with impassionedearnestness. 

"O father, I could not help it! I strove against it as long as Imight. I feared it was a thing that must not be. But love was toostrong. I could not fight for ever. "

"Tut--tut, child! why shouldest thou fight? Why didst thou notspeak to thy mother? Girls may breathe a secret into a mother's earthat is not to be spoke elsewhere. Thou shouldest have told her, child, and have spared thyself much weary misery. "

Kate's head was hung very low; neither parent could see her face. 

"I did not dare, " she answered softly; "I knew that I was wrong. Ifeared to speak. "

"Thou art a strange mixture of courage and fear, my saucy Kate. Iwould once have vowed that thou wouldst fear not to speak aloudevery thought of thy heart. But love changes all, I ween, and makessad cowards of the boldest of us. And so thou didst wait till hedeclared his love, and fretted out thy heart in silence the while?"

Kate lifted her head and looked at her father, a faint perplexityin her eyes. 

"Nay, I ever knew he loved me. It was that I feared thydispleasure, my father. I had heard thee say--"

"Nothing against Sir Robert, I warrant me, " cried Sir Richardheartily; whilst Kate took one backward step and exclaimed:

"Methought Sir Robert was Cecilia's lover! Why speak you to me ofhim, my father?"

Sir Richard rose to his feet in great perplexity, looking at hiswife, who was pale and agitated. 

"Cecilia's lover--what meanest thou, child?" he asked quickly. "Iwas speaking to thee of thine own lover. Sir Robert would fain wedwith thee, and methought thou hadst already given him thy heart. "

"No--no--no!" cried Kate, shrinking yet further away. "I had nothoughts of him. O father, how couldst thou think it? He is a kindfriend; but I have thought him Cecilia's knight, and I trow shethinks of him thus herself. "

Lady Frances now spoke to her daughter for the first time, fixingher eyes upon her, and addressing her with composure, althoughvisibly struggling against inward agitation. 

"Listen to me, daughter Kate. Thou hast spoken words which, if theyrefer not to Sir Robert, as thy father and I believed, have need tobe explained. Thou hast spoken of loving and of being beloved; whatdost thou mean by that? Who is he that has dared--"

"O mother, thou knowest that; thou hast heard it a hundred times. It is Culverhouse, my cousin, who--"

But Sir Richard's face had clouded suddenly over. He had set hisheart on marrying Kate to his friend Sir Robert, who would, hebelieved, make her an excellent husband; and he had long ago givena half pledge to Lord Andover to thwart and oppose the youthfulattachment which was showing itself between Kate and Culverhouse. The Earl wished a grand match for his son, and the Trevlyn pridewas strong in Sir Richard, who would never have had a daughter ofhis wed where she was not welcome. He also disliked marriagesbetween first cousins, and made of that a pretext for setting hisface against the match, whilst remaining on perfectly friendlyterms with the Viscount and all his family. He had hoped and quitemade up his mind that that boy-and-girl fancy had been laid at restfor ever, and was not a little annoyed at hearing the name of hercousin fall so glibly from Kate's lips. 

"Silence, foolish girl!" he said sternly. "Hast thou not been tolda hundred times to think no more of him? How dost thou dare toanswer thy mother thus? Culverhouse! thou knewest well that he isno match for thee. It is wanton folly to let thy wayward fancydwell still on him. Methought thou hadst been cured of thatchildish liking long since. But if it has not been so, thou shaltsoon be cured now!"

Kate shrank back, for her father had seldom looked so stern, andthere was an inflexibility about his aspect that was decidedlyformidable. No one knew better than his favourite daughter thatwhen once the limit of his forbearance was reached, there was nohope of any further yielding, and that he could be hard as flint oradamant; so it was with a look of terror in her eyes that sheshrank yet further away as she asked:

"What dost thou mean, my father? what dost thou mean?"

"I mean, Kate, " answered Sir Richard, not unkindly, but soresolutely that his words fell upon her ear like a knell, "that thebest and safest plan of curing thee of thy fond and foolish fancy, which can never come to good, is to wed thee with a man who willmake thee a kind and loving husband, and will maintain thee in thestate to which thou hast been born. Wherefore, prepare to wed withSir Robert Fortescue without delay, for to him I will give thy handin wedlock so soon as we can have thee ready to be his bride. "

Kate stood for a moment as if transfixed and turned to stone, andthen she suddenly sank upon her knees at her father's feet. 

"Father, " she said, in a strange, choked voice, that indicated anintense emotion and agitation, "thou canst not make me the wife ofanother; for methinks I am well nigh, if not altogether, the wifeof my cousin Culverhouse. "

"What?" almost shouted Sir Richard, making one step forward andseizing his daughter by the arm. "Wretched girl, what is this thatthou sayest? The wife of thy cousin Culverhouse! Shame upon theefor so base a falsehood! How dost thou dare to frame thy lips toit?"

"It is no falsehood!" answered Kate, with flashing eyes, springingto her feet and confronting her parents with all her old courage, and with a touch of defiance. "I would have kneeled to ask yourpardon for my rashness, for my disobedience, for the longconcealment; but I am no liar, I speak but the truth. Listen, and Iwill tell all. It was on May Day, and I rode forth into the forestand distanced pursuit, and joined my cousin Culverhouse, as we hadvowed to do. We thought then of naught but the joy of a daytogether in the forest, and had not dreamed of such a matter aswedlock. But then to the church porch came one calling himself apriest. They say he comes every year, and weds all who will come tohim. And many did. And Culverhouse and I stood before him, and hejoined our hands, and we made our vows, and he pronounced us manand wife before all assembled there. And whether it be bindingwedlock or no, it is to us a solemn betrothal made before God andman; and not all the commands thou couldst lay upon me, my father, could make me stand up and vow myself to another as I have vowedmyself to Culverhouse. I should hold myself forsworn; I should beguilty of the vilest crime in the world. Thou wilt not ask it ofme. Thou canst not know, even as I do not know, whether thatwedlock is not valid before man, as it is before God. "

A thunderbolt falling between them could scarcely have producedmore astonishment and dismay. Lady Frances sank back in her seatwhite with horror and bewilderment, whilst Sir Richard stood as ifturned to stone; and when at last he was able to speak, it was toorder Kate to her room in accents of the sternest anger, biddingher not to dare to leave it until he brought her forth himself. 

Kate fled away gladly enough, her mind rent in twain betwixtremorse at her own disobedience and deceit, triumph in havingstopped Sir Robert's suit by so immovable an obstacle, and reliefthat the truth was out at last, even though her own dire disgracewas the result. The secret had preyed terribly on her mind of late, and had been undermining her health and spirits. Terrible as theanger of her parents might be, anything to her open nature seemedbetter than concealment; and she dashed up to her own room in awhirl of conflicting emotions, sinking down upon the floor when shereached it to try to get into order her chaotic thoughts. 

Meantime husband and wife, left alone to their astonishment, stoodgazing at each other in blank amaze. 

"Husband, " said Lady Frances at last, "surely such wedlock is notlawful?"

"I cannot tell, " he answered gloomily; "belike it is not. Yet atroth plight made in so solemn a fashion, and before so manywitnesses, is no light thing; and the child may not be wedded toanother whilst the smallest shadow of doubt remains. DoubtlessCulverhouse foresaw this, the bold knave, and persuaded the childinto it. Well it has served his purpose. Sir Robert must be contentwith Cecilia. But the artfulness of the little jade! I neverthought Kate would so deceive us--"

"It is that that breaks my heart!" cried the mother--"that, and thethought that she should be willing to go before some Popish priestand take her vows to him. Oh, it cannot be binding on the child--itcannot be binding! And Sir Robert is stanch in the Reformed faith;he is just the husband that wild girl needs. Husband, can nothingbe done?"

Sir Richard looked very grave. 

"That would be hard to tell without strict inquiries. I doubt me ifwe could learn all before next May Day, when we might get hold ofthe man himself and find out who and what he is. Such wedlock ashis cannot be without flaw, and might be made invalid by law; but, wife, there is no getting over this, that the child took her vowsin the name of God, and I dare not act as though such vows wereunspoken. Her youth and ignorance may plead in part for her. Shescarce knew the solemnity of the step she was taking. Culverhousewon upon her and over persuaded her, I do not doubt. I do not seekto excuse her. I am grievously displeased and disappointed. But Icannot and I will not give her to Sir Robert; Cecilia must be hiswife. "

"Then Kate must be sent away, " said Lady Frances, gravely andseverely; "I cannot and will not have her here, mixing as beforewith her sisters with this cloud hanging upon her, with this secretstill shadowing her life. She has proved unworthy of ourconfidence. I am more pained and displeased than I can say. Shemust go. She must not be able to tell Cecilia that she might havebeen Lady Fortescue but for her marriage with Culverhouse. She isno longer to be trusted. She must go forth from home as apunishment for her wrongdoing. I feel that I cannot bear to see herabout the house, knowing how she has deceived us. She shall goforth this very day. "

Sir Richard stood considering. He too was deeply displeased withhis daughter, though he had some sympathy with the ardent andimpulsive lovers, who had got themselves into a queer plight, andhad thrown much perplexity upon others. But he decidedly agreedwith his wife that it would be better for Kate to go--and to go indisgrace, that she might feel herself punished by being severedfrom her sisters when the first wedding of the family was takingplace (save her own woodland nuptials). And it would doubtless savesome natural embarrassment to Sir Robert himself to have one of thesisters out of the way before he formally espoused the other;though, to be sure, such a proposition as his had been was a commonenough thing in those days. 

"It would be good to send her away; but whither can she go?"

"Where better than to Lady Humbert and Mistress Dowsabel, who haveofttimes asked us to send a daughter to enliven their dullsolitude? We have ever excused them on account of their youth andhigh spirits, fearing they would be moped to death in that dismalplace; but it will be the very house for our wayward Kate to go torepent of her ill deeds. If you will write a letter to them, wewill send it forthwith by a mounted messenger, and the answer willbe back before dark. If she is to go, she can start with the firstlight of tomorrow morning, and we can get her mails packed readytonight; for she must not disgrace her state, but must be furnishedwith all things fitting to her condition. "

Sir Richard thought that no other plan better than this could bedevised for his erring daughter; and though he could not but feelsome compassion for the girl, condemned to be the companion of apair of aged and feeble gentlewomen such as his aunts had longbeen, was nevertheless of opinion that the captivity and dullnesswould be salutary, and despatched his letter without delay. 

That same night Kate, who had passed the long hours in weeping andrejoicing, and in all those conflicting phases of feeling common tothe young, heard with a mixture of' pleasure and dismay that shewas to be sent in disgrace to the keeping of her great aunts, andthat without delay; also that she was not even to say goodbye toher sisters, or to see them again until something had been decidedas to her future and the validity of her wilful espousals. She wasmade to feel that she had committed a terrible sin, and one thather parents would find it hard to forgive; yet she could not helpexulting slightly in the thought that they had been obliged to takethe matter so seriously; and she had a dim hope that her agedrelatives, when she did come to them, might not prove altogether socrabbed and cross as she had always been led to suppose. Perhapsshe might find a warm corner even in their old hearts. 

Chapter 19: The Cross Way House. 

With the first light of day the start was to be made. Kate, who hadslept little, was ready betimes, had dressed herself in her ridingsuit long before she was sent for, and was employing herself inwondering if she would after all be permitted to say farewell toher sisters, and whether she should have an opportunity of askingher mother's pardon for her wrongdoing in this matter of her secretespousals. 

The girl had suffered a good deal during these past months. She hadnot realized when yielding to Culverhouse's persuasions how hard itwould be to live beneath her parents' roof with this secret preyingon her mind. She had not realized what a weight it would become intime, and she had looked for a speedy meeting with her cousin andbetrothed in London, whither Sir Richard had intended taking hisfamily for a while before the autumn set in. Kate had lookedforward then to making her confession to her parents and his, andwinning pardon for them both, as she felt sure of doing when shehad his support in the telling of the tale. But the change of herfather's plans, and the absence from England of Lord Culverhouse, who had been sent on a mission to France by his father, put an endto all these hopes, and she had felt the burden of her secret heavyindeed. Moreover, she was fearful lest Culverhouse should in somesort repent him of the step he had taken and wish it undone. Katehad but a small share of vanity, and only a very modestappreciation of her own attractions, and it seemed to her as thoughher cousin, moving as he did in the gay world of fashion, mustsurely see many other maidens tenfold more beautiful and graceful. Suppose he were to repent of his secret betrothal; suppose histroth plight weighed heavy on his spirit? what misery that would befor both! And during these long months of silence such thoughts andfears had preyed upon the girl's spirit, and had produced in herthe change that both her parents had observed. 

Wherefore now that the confession had been made, and the burdensomesecret was a secret no longer, a reaction set in that was almostlike relief. She felt certain, since all was known, thatCulverhouse would come forward and stand boldly beside her and layclaim to her hand before the world as he had talked of doing whenhe had led her to the troth plight on that May Day that seemed solong ago now. 

Even the thought of the journey and the visit to her father's greataunts was not altogether distasteful. She was more afraid ofmeeting her mother's sorrowful glances than stern ones fromstrangers. Kate had no lack of courage, and the love of variety andchange was implanted in her as strongly as it is in most youngthings; so that when Philip knocked at her door as the first raysof the October sun were gilding the trees and fields, it was with asmiling face that she opened to him, whilst he looked at her withsomething of smiling surprise in his glance. 

"Art ready, my sister? the horses will be at the door in a fewshort minutes. I am glad to see thee so bright and happy. I hadfeared to discover thee bathed in tears of woe. "

"Perchance I ought to be heavier hearted than I am, " answered Kate, with a swift glance at Philip through her long lashes. "I do repentme that I have angered our father and mother. I know that I havebeen wrong to keep the secret; perchance I was wrong to letCulverhouse persuade me. But that the thing is done I cannot trulyrepent; the only thing which would make me wish that vow unsaidwould be if Culverhouse were to wish to be free of his trothplight. "

"Which I trow he never will be, " answered Philip warmly, as he laidhis hand on Kate's shoulder. 

Those two were very near akin in spirit and in sympathy. Kate knewall his love for Petronella, and his anxiety for her since herflight (though he fully believed her to be in hiding with Cuthbertin the forest, albeit he had not been able to discover them), andhe had strong fellow feeling with the impulsive lovers. 

"He has never loved any but thee, my sister, since the days weplayed together as children. Save that concealment ever leads totrouble, and that wedlock vows are too sacred to be made playthingsof, I could find it in my heart to wish that Petronella and I werewed in like fashion. But our mother is sorely grieved at what thouhast done--going before a tonsured priest, with none of thine ownkindred by, to take vows which should have had the sanction of thyparents before they passed thy lips, and should have been made indifferent fashion and in a different place. Howbeit no doubt timewill soften her anger, and she will grow reconciled to the thought. When we have made all inquiries anent this priest and his ways, myfather and I will to London to speak with Lord Andover of thisbusiness. I trust all will end well for thee, sister. But thou mustlearn in thy captivity to be a patient and discreet maiden, thatthey do not fear to give thee to Culverhouse at last, since it mustneeds be so. "

Kate looked up gratefully, comforted by the kind tone of herbrother's words. 

"In very sooth I will try, Philip. I thank thee for thy goodcounsel. I will be patient and discreet towards my great aunts. Iwill strive to show them all due reverence, that they may satisfymy mother when she makes inquiry of them. "

Kate long remembered the ride with her father and brother throughthe forest and across the heath that day. Her father was stern andgrave, and scarcely addressed a single word to her. Philip and shetalked a little, but were affected by this silence of displeasure, and observed a befitting decorum and quietness. Sir Richard madehis daughter take him to the spot of her troth plight, and show himexactly how and where it had taken place. As they stopped to baitthe horses at the little hostelry, he made various inquiriesconcerning the priest and his annual visitation to the wake on MayDay, and his face looked none the less severe as he heard thereplies. 

"Methinks the knot hath been something tightly tied--too tight forit to be easily unloosed, " whispered Philip to his sister as helifted her to the saddle after the noontide halt; and she could notbut answer by a bright smile, which she saw reflected in his face. 

The day, which had been bright and fine, turned dull and loweringas the riders neared the Cross Way House, as the residence of LadyHumbert was called; and Kate looked curiously at the house as theyapproached it, wondering what sort of a life its inmates led. 

To her eyes, accustomed to the seclusion of park and grounds, themost striking feature of this house was that it stood actually uponthe road itself. It occupied an angle of the cross formed by thejunction of four roads, and its north and east windows looked outstraight upon these two highways, with nothing intervening betweenthem but some twenty feet of paved walk enclosed behind walls tenfeet high, and guarded by strong gates of wrought iron. 

Doubtless to the south and west there were gardens and grounds. Thewalls seemed to run a long way along the road, and Kate feltcertain that she should find seclusion and privacy there. She couldsee tall trees rearing their heads above the wall, and was certainfrom the aspect of the house, which was sufficiently imposing, thatshe should find within the ease and luxury to which she wasaccustomed. 

On the whole, she rather liked the prospect of looking out upon theroads. If Culverhouse were to ride by, she could signal to him fromthe windows. She could watch the fine folk passing to and fro ontheir way to London. Possibly a belated traveller might ask shelterat the house, and amuse them with tales of adventure and peril. Kate had time to think of many things as their horses stood at thegates awaiting admittance; and when these were thrown back at last, and they rode through an archway and into a centre courtyard roundwhich the house was built, the girl was delighted with everything;for the quadrangular structure was a novelty to her, and a noveltywhich took her fancy not a little. There were servants to lookafter the horses; and it was plain the travellers were expected, for they were quickly ushered into the house by one of the greatdoors which opened on a wide flight of steps leading down into thecourt, and were there met by an aged majordomo, who greeted themwith ceremonious solemnity. 

"My lady is looking for you, sir, " he said to Sir Richard; andturning to Kate, he added, in the same mechanical fashion, "Yourmaid will show you to your room, madam. My lady will see you afteryou have recovered from the fatigues of the journey. "

Kate was not in the least fatigued, but she was too well brought upto remonstrate in any way. The maid was hovering in the background;an elderly woman with a capable face and slightly repellent manner. It was plain to Kate that her relatives would not receive her tillthey had learned more of the details of her banishment from homefrom her father, and had made up their minds how to treat her. Shefelt that even the serving woman regarded her somewhat in the lightof a culprit, and it was with a mind divided betwixt amusement andgirlish shame that she followed the attendant into the bed chamberthat had been prepared for her. 

This was a more sumptuous apartment than her room at home, andlooked comfortable enough in the glow of the great fire of logs. The hangings of the bed were dark and heavy, and the carved oakfurniture was also sombre in its polished blackness; but there wasa thick square carpet on the floor, which was a luxury Kate hadnever possessed in her bed chamber before, and the mirrors andsilver sconces for the candles all bespoke an ease and luxury thatreminded Kate of what life would be like when she lived as aCountess or Viscountess in her own house, with Lord Culverhouse aslord and master. 

"This is your room, " said the woman. "Your mails arrived earlier inthe day, and your things have been put away in the cupboard thereand in the bureau yonder. My lady gave orders you were to be servedwith something to eat and drink in your own room, and that shewould visit you later. There is another young lady visiting in thehouse; she will come and see you if you will permit her. "

"Very willingly, " answered Kate, who was always ready for company, and very curious to know something about these great aunts of hers, whom she had never seen as yet. "I shall be glad of food, as Iliked not what they served us with at the inn in the forest. As forthe young lady, albeit I know not who she can be, I should gladlywelcome her. I have no love for too much of my own company;wherefore the sooner she comes the better shall I be pleased. "

The woman withdrew, and Kate removed her hat and gloves, and lookedabout her with quick, searching glances. 

"A good room in sooth, and no bad prison, if prisoner I am to be. And since I may have company, I can scarce be in such dire disgraceas that. I wonder who this visitor may be? Some Wyvern, belike; butdoubtless we shall learn to take pleasure in each other. 

"Soft! are those steps without? Yes; and some one knocks at thedoor. 

"Enter, enter, I pray. I am right glad--What! do my eyes deceiveme? Sure I am in some strange dream! Petronella! Surely it cannotbe Petronella! The features are the same; but the Petronella I onceknew was wan and frail as a fair wood lily, and thou--nay, but itcannot be!"

"But it is--it is!" cried the girl, making a bound forward andflinging her arms round Kate's neck in an ecstasy of happiness;"and, O Kate, I have seen him again! I saw him ride to the door bythy side! Perchance I shall even have words with him ere he journeyforth again! Ah, how rejoiced was I when I heard that thou wertcoming! O Kate, I have such news for thee--such news, such news!"

The two girls were folded in each other's arms. Between every fewwords they paused to kiss and laugh in the very exuberance of theirhappiness. It seemed like a dream to Kate; she could scarce believeher eyes. 

"Petronella--but how earnest thou here?"

"I came when the weather grew so inclement that Cuthbert would nolonger let me share his forest life. He brought me to this house, and our aunts, when they heard our story, opened their doors to me;and I have been here three whole weeks--ever since the summer'sheats broke in storms of rain. But here I go by the name of EllenWyvern, lest haply it should come to my father's ears that I amhere, and he should fetch me away. But I have almost ceased toquake at that thought; I have had my freedom so long. "

"I scarce know thee, thou art so changed--so full of sunshine andcourage, " cried Kate. "Erstwhile thou wert like a creature ofmoonlight and vapour; a breath seemed as though it would blow theeaway. What has befallen to change thee so? What hast thou beendoing all this while? And where is Cuthbert?"

"Cuthbert is yet in the forest, " answered Petronella, sinking hervoice to the merest whisper, as if afraid that even the walls wouldhave ears. "His task is not yet finished. It is one that takesgreat skill and patience and watchfulness. But it is beingaccomplished by slow and sure degrees. Ah, Kate! what news thinkestthou that I have for thee? The time has not yet come when the worldmay know all; but I trow that thou mayest know, for thou hast everbeen with us in the secret of the quest. "

Kate's face flushed and paled; her heart beat fast with hope andwonder. She well knew what difference to her future would be madeby the restoration to the house of Trevlyn of that lost treasure. She could scarce frame the words she longed to speak, but her eyesasked the question for her; and Petronella, putting her lips closeto her cousin's ear, whispered the wondrous news that the losttreasure was found. 

"Found--really found!" and Kate gave a great gasp. "Nay, but, Petronella, tell me how. "

Petronella laid a warning hand upon Kate's lips. 

"Nay, cousin, but thou must call me Ellen here. And we must waittill the household be at rest, and we share the same bed, ere Idare to pour into thine ears all the tale. And thou must promise tobreathe no word of it, bad nor good, till the moment has come forthe world to know. It will not be long now, I trow; but we arepledged, and were it not that I know well thou art stanch and true, I dared not have shared the joyful secret with thee. "

"It is safe with me, " cried Kate; "I will never betray it. O Ellen, how I long to hear the whole! But since that may not be now, tellme more of these great aunts of ours. What treatment am I to lookfor beneath their roof? Am I to be received as kinswoman or asprisoner? for marry I know not myself. "

Petronella's face kindled into smiles, those bright happy smilesthat gave it a charm never seen in past days. She bent an archglance upon her cousin, and then made reply. 

"The Lady Humbert is a fine stately dame, before whom my heartquailed mightily when first I stood before her. Her voice is sharp;her eyes look you through and through; her frown sets you quaking, and makes you wish the earth would swallow you up. But for allthat, when once you get to know her, you find that a warm heartbeats beneath her stiff bodice, and that though she will speaksharply to you before your face, she will do you many a kind act ofwhich you know little or nothing. Mistress Dowsabel is younger, smaller, less fearsome to the eye; indeed she is timorous and oftenfull of fears herself. She too is kind, though I truly think thatLady Humbert has the larger heart. They love each other well, andare willing to befriend all who have claims of kindred. For therest, they live much secluded from the world, and think that thetimes are sadly changed for the worse since the days when they wereyoung. "

"And what think they of me?" asked Kate, with natural girlish selfconsciousness. 

Petronella repeated her arch glance. 

"To me they say that thou art a wilful maid who needest watchingand stern guarding. They shake their heads at such loose marriage, and tell me to take warning and not fall into like folly and sinthrough overmuch love of my own way. But I heard them talkingtogether of thee when they forgot that I was by; and then there wassomething different in their words, and I could scarce forbear tosmile. "

"What said they then?" asked Kate eagerly. 

"My Lady Humbert, she said that Lord Andover was a good man andstanch, and that all spoke well of his son. They added that if thouwouldst one day be Countess of Andover, they would gladly thinkthat thou wouldst worthily fill that place. Aunt Dowsabel asked ifthou hadst made a good beginning in this hasty marriage or trothplight of thine; whereat Lady Humbert gave a laugh, and said shewas glad that thou hadst had the spirit of thy ancestors in thee, and that for her part, if you were both true and stanch in yourlove, she saw small harm in letting love have the mastery overprudence. And then it turned out, as I learned from their talk, that she herself had run away to be married when she was a girl, and that she had never for one hour repented the act. So sheplainly felt that thou wast her own kinswoman in all faith; andalthough she may speak to thee with stern rebuke, thou mayest knowin thy heart that she thinks kindly of thee, and that she willstand thy friend with thy father, and make the peace with thymother if she may. "

Kate's face flushed happily. 

"Nay, now, that is good hearing! Why did we not know these goodaunts before? I can go before them with a light heart now. I repentme of nothing save that I displeased my parents, and hid the matterfrom them all this while. I trow I shall never repent that I letCulverhouse persuade me to plight my troth to him. "

Kate was glad of the assurance Petronella's words had given herwhen she was presently summoned before her relatives, and stood inthe dim panelled room before their straight-backed chairs, feelingthe stern eyes of Lady Humbert fixed full upon her, whilst sheheard that her father and brother had already left, since it wasonly pain and grief to them to be beneath the same roof as theirobdurate and disobedient daughter and sister. 

Kate received the lecture addressed her by the mistress of thehouse with all becoming humility, and without that sinking of heartthat she might otherwise have felt at the cold stern tone; and shegladly passed her word, when desired to do so, not to go beyond theprecincts of the great walled garden without special permission. Inher walks and rides abroad she was always to be attended, and wasto promise never to slip away from her escort. If she wouldfaithfully promise this, she might be allowed the companionship ofEllen Wyvern, now a guest beneath the roof of Cross Way House; andto give this promise cost Kate no pang, for she had no feverishdesire after unfettered liberty, but was content to await the timeshe knew must shortly come now, when Culverhouse would come toclaim her for his own, and would find her no longer the portionlessmaiden she once had been, but dowered with some of the rich spoilfrom that long-lost hoard. 

Supper was served in solemn state in the dining parlour, and thetwo girls sat with their aged relatives to partake of it. Petronella was a little sad that Philip had gone without evenknowing of her presence beneath that roof: but she was certaintheir meeting would not be much longer delayed, and was content towait. The Wyvern sisters did not keep a great establishment, astheir means were not large, though they clung to the old housewhich had come down to them, and would have sacrificed much ratherthan sell it. But Kate soon discovered that the largest rooms wereshut up and partially dismantled in order that comfort should reignin those parts of the house that were habitually used; that thestaff of servants was but small; and that of these nearly all wereold men and women who had grown gray and enfeebled in the serviceof the family, and were kept on by the present mistresses, whothemselves disliked any changes in their establishment, and whocould hardly see their way to finding the wages that able-bodiedservants would look to receive. So they lived in this very quietfashion, surrounded by retainers almost as aged as themselves, andled on the whole a happy and a placid life. Petronella was provingof so much use that the burden of her maintenance was not felt, andSir Richard Trevlyn made generous arrangements for the cost of hisdaughter. But there was something altogether quaint and curious inthe life of the house, and Kate thought it exceedingly interestingeven before the first evening had passed. 

Yet all the while she was longing to hear Petronella's tale, andwas glad when the tapestry work was put away, and formal goodnights had been exchanged. The girls ran up to the guest chamberprepared for Kate, which they had agreed to share together fromthat time forth. It did not take them long to slip into bed; andold Dyson, the waiting woman, who also acted as housekeeper, camequickly in to see that the lights were safely extinguished, afterwhich only the glow of the fire illuminated the darkness of the bigroom; and Kate in an eager whisper begged Petronella to lose notime in telling her tale. 

With breathless eagerness she heard of the girl's flight from home, and of her rescue of Cuthbert from the very jaws of death. Shecould not understand Petronella's shuddering horror at the thoughtof having killed a man. 

"I would have killed fifty, and been glad to rid the earth of themwere they such wretches as Long Robin!" she cried. 

Then in deep silence she heard of Cuthbert's dive into the well, and of the golden flagon he had brought up as an earnest of whatwas to come. Petronella went on to say that, having made absolutelysure of the presence of the treasure in the well, Cuthbert had thendirected all his energies to detecting the sources of the hiddensprings that fed it, and after long search and patience hadsatisfied himself that it was filled by two, both rising in thehigh ground not far distant. 

He had then set to work to see how these waters could be divertedso as to leave the well dry at his will; and though it had takenmonths to perform this feat, and had only been done at the cost ofimmense labour and trouble, still it had been done, and one day inearly September the brother and sister had stood together to seethe water ebbing slowly and more slowly away, until at last theireyes beheld a vast quantity of silver and gold lying exposed at thebottom of the well, and knew that the lost treasure of Trevlyn wastheirs indeed. 

But their labours were not yet ended. It was plain to both thatthey must quickly find some safe spot whither they could transportit all, else some passing traveller might even now see and reportwhat he had seen, and so rob them of the fruit of their toil. 

Afraid to go to Trevlyn Chase for help, lest the news should insome way leak out to Nicholas at the Gate House, and also becausethe brother and sister had set their hearts on accomplishing thetask entirely alone, it suddenly entered Cuthbert's head to takehis sister to the Cross Way House, and ask of its owners protectionfor her through the approaching inclement season; and then, ifsatisfied that these Wyvern kinswomen were to be trusted, and werefriendly of disposition towards them, to whisper the secret of thetreasure trove in their ears, and ask leave to deposit it allwithin the great strongroom underground, that the Wyvern house hadalways boasted, and of which the secret was known to very few. 

This was the plan that had been carried out. His reception by LadyHumbert, and her kindness to the lonely Petronella when her pitifulstory was told, quite decided Cuthbert to confide the golden secretto her. She listened in amaze, but was highly pleased at being thefirst person to know it. She laid her hand on Cuthbert's head, andspoke to him of the old saw which predicted that fortune shouldreturn to the Wyverns through the daughters' sons, and declaredthat he was fulfilling the prophecy she had longed to live to seecome true. Cuthbert trusted that such indeed would be the case, butdid not know whether the Wyverns had any lot or share in thetreasure trove. Whereat the old lady smiled, and said that she laidno claim to the gold--it was none of theirs, and never would be;but still, with her hand on Cuthbert's head, she declared thatafter herself and her sister he should reign at the Cross WayHouse, and that his share of the treasure, which in all soothshould be a large one, since but for him it might never have beenfound, would go to restore the fallen fortunes of the house, and tofulfil in very truth the fondly-cherished prediction. 

Cuthbert's amazement had naturally been great; but this fairprospect held out to him had but given greater zest to hisenterprise. Not to a single soul in the house would Lady Humbertconfide the secret, lest amongst themselves the faithful oldservants should gossip, and rumour get abroad that the lonely housewas worth attacking. In the dead of night, upon appointed dates, Cuthbert brought to a certain iron-barred window the laden assbearing his costly burden, and Petronella and Lady Humbertthemselves received the treasure and bore it piece by piece to thesecret room. Not a creature slept on that side of the house--not aliving being knew what was passing in the dead hours of the night; andin this fashion the treasure was being brought, Cuthbert descendingthe well, into which a little water had now filtered--enough toconceal the treasure from a passing observer if such there shouldchance to be--and with the assistance of their four-footed friend, drawing up as much as the patient beast could carry, and transportingit by night to this very house. 

"When all is done, " concluded Petronella--"and every load we thinkmust surely be the last, there is so much of it--then he will forthto seek the gipsy in the forest, and tell her that the task isdone. After that he will to London, to see how it fares with hiscousins there, and to tell my uncle something of his tale, demanding, as I right well believe, the hand of our cousin Cherryin wedlock, since he may now support a wife in all comfort andease. When that is done he will hither again, and Lady Humbert willask to her house a gathering of kinsfolk for the Yuletide festival. And then the great secret will be told. The treasure will bedivided between the Trevlyns assembled beneath this roof; and Itrow, sweet Kate, that my Lord Culverhouse will contrive to behere, and that when the good news has been told to all, he willhave small work in getting the parental blessing for those nuptialsthat will be celebrated anew with pomp and rejoicing, and will makethee in very truth, and without shadow of a doubt, the ViscountessCulverhouse. "

Kate, laughing and quivering, clasped Petronella in her arms, asshe cried between laughter and tears:

"And when that good hap befalls me, sweet Petronella, I willwarrant that Philip will be in no wise behind in claiming hisbride, and that thou as well as I shalt find that the recoveredtreasure of Trevlyn has smoothed our path to wedded happiness!"

Chapter 20: How It Fared With Cherry. 

"Gramercy! what next, I wonder! Here's a pretty kettle of fish! Ialways did say that no good came of letters. I wish folks had moresense than to spend their time writing! I never get a letter butwhat it brings a peck of bother with it. "

Mistress Susan Holt was the speaker. She held in her hand a pieceof paper which she was eying with many a scornful sniff. It hadbeen left at the bridge house by a courier riding through toWestminster from the south country, and Martin Holt had called hissister down to his business parlour to open and read the missive. 

He now looked up from his books with a pardonable curiosity to say:

"Well, sister Susan, letters do not trouble thee oft. And what maybe the news in this one? and from whom comes it?"

"From Prudence Dyson. "

"Prudence at the Cross Way House? And what says she? it is longsince we had news of her. "

"So long that I had almost forgot where she was: and I marvel sheshould trouble us thus. Thy daughters are not serving wenches, Martin. What can Prudence be thinking of?"

Martin smiled slightly. It seemed to him that beneath his sister'siron rule his daughters did little but toil after the fashion ofserving wenches from morning to night. As for Susan herself, sheworked harder than any servant she had ever had beneath her sway. 

"What says the letter?" he asked briefly; "what is the matter thatangers thee?"

"I am not angry, " answered Susan sharply. "I trust I know my dutybetter as a Christian than to be angered over trifles. I am butsurprised at such a request. Prudence Dyson asks if I can spare oneof my nieces and thy daughters to dwell for a while at Cross WayHouse, to help her with her duties there. "

Martin Holt did not appear to see anything very unreasonable orextraordinary in that request. 

"What has caused her to wish it?" he asked quietly. "Is she in anyway ill or disabled?"

"It is not that; it is that there be two young ladies of gentlebirth dwelling now beneath Lady Humbert's care. Prudence desires togive them all due tendance and service; but as thou knowest, Martin, the household purse there is not deep, and Prudence strivesmight and main to do all she can to save her kind mistress fromneedless cost. She is striving now to attend herself upon all fourladies; and she says that the young maidens are very kindly andgentle and helpful. But she likes not to see them wait uponthemselves, and she knows that my Lady Humbert would wish them tohave all needful service. Wherefore she asks if thou couldst sparea daughter to go thither for a while to help her by waiting on theyoung damsels. And I--"

"Well, and wherefore not?" said Martin, stroking his chinthoughtfully. "Prudence is a good woman, and my dead wife loved herbest of all her family. I know that Lady Humbert is a woman intowhose house any father might trust his daughter without a fear. Asfor the question of serving wenches, I trow the wench who goes willhave an easier time than the sisters who abide at home. Susan, Ithink it only right to help Prudence in this matter; I can see noreason against so doing. "

Susan seldom opposed the master of the house, but she looked alittle sour and displeased. 

"We shall have Christmas upon us right soon; we can ill spare anyhands then, " she said. 

"O--ho! So it is the thought of thine own pies and stuffed meatsthat weighs with thee!" said Martin with a laugh. "Then I will tellthee what I will do. I will send Cherry, whom thou art ever chidingfor being useless to thee. She shall go to wait upon the two youngmadams and help good Prudence at the Cross Way House, and thoushalt keep thy two useful nieces at home with thee. "

Susan's brow cleared somewhat, but she made a movement of her bonyshoulders indicative of scorn. 

"Cherry may go with all my heart, for she is idler and more uselessthan ever, and does naught from morning to night but sit at thewindow, watching the folks in the street, and turning from red topale and pale to red as though she were a bride looking for thearrival of her bridegroom. I have no patience with such ways. Iknew no good would come of always spoiling the child. I can donaught with her now; she heeds not a word I say. Ofttimes she doesnot even know that I am speaking to her. She may go, and welcome!but I misdoubt me that Prudence will thank thee for the loan. Muchgood and much service she will get out of Keren Happuch!"

Martin Holt looked thoughtfully at his sister. 

"That is partly why I am glad the child should go. I too have seena change in her. Methinks she is feeling the long hot summer in thecity. There be many that have told me that she is not looking asshe should do. This idleness shows something of indisposition, Itake it. Doubtless she will receive benefit from a change of airand occupation. She loves to be in the open air, and at the CrossWay House there will be gardens and pleasaunces and orchards whereshe may perchance be suffered to wander at will. Prudence will bekind to her, and I shall send her gladly. "

Susan again made her peculiar gesture, as much as to say that shewashed her hands of responsibility in the matter. 

"She is thy daughter--do as thou wilt, Martin; but I warn thee thatno good will come of it. Going amongst ladies will make her thinkherself a finer lady than ever: and now as it is she will scarcedeign to soil her dainty hands with anything coarser than themaking of light pastry. Thou wilt spoil her for a city man's wife;and I know not how Abraham Dyson will take it. Prudence is hissister, to be sure, and it is to do her a kindness; but Jacob wantsa useful wife--and, as I understood, they were resolved not todelay the marriage beyond Christmas. Rachel has been six monthswed, and the house wants a mistress who can move about and look tothings. "

Martin was looking very thoughtful. He did not reply for a while, and then he said slowly:

"Send the child to me, Susan; I will speak to her of this myself. "

"Ay, thou hadst best do so, for I might as well speak to the wallsas to Keren Happuch, " said Mistress Susan as she went on her way upthe stairs, by no means pleased at the easy fashion in which herbrother took this matter. 

Susan loved a grand fuss and talk and discussion over every triflein the day's round, and this was more than a trifle. Her tongue wasas active as her hands, and she would talk by the hour as sheworked, until those about her grew weary of the very sound of hervoice. 

Martin Holt, who was fully alive to his sister's many virtues andvaluable qualities, did find her something of a trial also, and itnever struck him as at all inexplicable that the self willed andimpetuous little Cherry should often be at loggerheads with heraunt. 

As she stole down the staircase and stood before him with awondering, questioning look in her big eyes, he eyed her keenly, and could not but see that some of the bloom had faded from hercheeks, and that she had in some way changed during the pastmonths. 

"Cherry, " he said, taking her small hand in his and speaking in anunwontedly gentle way, "has thy aunt told thee wherefore I wantthee?"

"No, father; she said that thou wouldst tell me. "

"And so I will; but tell me first if there is aught amiss withthee. I have missed thy laugh of late, and thou hast lost some ofthy roses. Does aught ail thee, child?"

Sudden tears welled up in Cherry's eyes; her lip began to tremble. 

"I know not, I know not, " she answered, with a little sob. "It onlyseems sometimes as though I could not bear the life any longer; itis all so drear, so dull, so dead! one day like another--always thesame. Sometimes I think the narrow house will stifle me! O father, chide me not; I have struggled against the feeling, but the life iskilling me! I know not how to bear it--alone. "

The last word was almost a whisper, and escaped Martin's ears. Hewas regarding his child with a thoughtful and perplexedcountenance. He fancied that he was somewhat in the position of amother hen who sees its foster brood of ducklings take to the waterfor the first time. He did not understand this outburst in theleast. Cherry's restless discontent was an enigma to him. But hesaw that it was real, and that it was a source of trouble andsuffering to herself; and he wisely resolved neither to rebuke norcondemn her, but simply to treat it as the symptom of a malady ofthe body which might be cured by a few months' change andrelaxation. 

The child was half frightened at her own boldness, and stoodtrembling before him, Her aunt would have boxed her ears and senther to bed for such a confession; but her father only looked at heras though he were trying to read her very soul, and Cherryinstinctively dropped her eyes, as if fearful that another secretwould be read there--a secret which she kept locked up closely inher breast, and would not for the world that any other should know. 

"Cherry, " said Martin Holt, speaking slowly and quietly, "I knownot what to think of thy words, save that thy disordered fanciescome from a disordered health. Thou hast been looking less robustthan I like to see thee; wherefore I think it well that thoushouldest have some change in thy life, and see if that will curethee. Thy good aunt Prudence Dyson, a younger sister of thy mother, has sent to ask me if I will spare her one of my daughters to helpwait upon some young madams staying with my Lady Humbert. Thou hastnot been brought up to such duties, but thou hast quick hands andeyes, and, I trust, a willing heart, and I have resolved to sendthee. Thou wilt be in the country, and the change will doubtless begood for thee. I shall look to receive thee back restored to thineold self again. The Cross Way House stands south from this by someseventeen miles, and is not very far away from the forest of whichCuthbert used to talk, and Trevlyn Chase where his kinsfolk live. Thou mayest hear somewhat of him there, for methinks the ladiesWyvern are in some sort his kinsfolk, too. I marvel that all thesemonths have gone by without a word or a sign from him. Thou canstask if aught has been heard of him. I trust no mishap has befallenthe lad. He promised us news of himself ere now. "

Had the room been less dim and dark, Martin might have seen thesudden alternations of red and white in Cherry's cheek as theselast words were spoken; but the twilight was drawing in apace, andshe kept her face down bent. But her heart was beating fast withthrobs of gladness as well as astonishment. The idea of being sentaway from home to the house of strangers was something fearful, butthe last clause had given her food for eager anticipation. Wherewould she not go for news of Cuthbert, for whom she was now pining, and pining all the more sadly because she might speak to none ofher anxiety and trouble?

Cuthbert had said he should be some months away; but she had lookedfor him at Michaelmas, and now October was speeding along, and yetthere was no sign. Cherry had all a London girl's terror of theforests and their perils. She remembered how he had spoken ofdanger when last he had ridden through, and how nearly the terribleold gipsy had fulfilled her vow of vengeance by wreaking it uponhis head. Might she not have found him and have slain him when helived hidden away in the forest? Might not his search for the losttreasure have led him into many deadly perils? If living and free, why had he not written or appeared to her by this time? Could itbe--oh, could it be--that he had forgotten her, and was keepingpurposely away? Almost sooner would she believe him dead; buteither fear filled her with dread and dismay. 

And now a new throb of hope was in her heart. Once near the forestand what might she not hear or see? Might she not even find himherself? In her ignorance and inexperience anything seemed possibleif only she might escape from the trammels of city life, and fromthe Argus eye of her aunt Susan. 

"And am I to go and help my aunt Prudence, father?"

"Yes; I think it is but right and kind that thou shouldst do so. Thou art willing thyself?--and wilt thou be docile and teachable?"

"I will strive in all things to please her. "

"That is well. I shall trust thee to do credit to thy name. "

"And when am I to go, father?"

"So soon as I can find escort for thee; and that methinks will notbe long, since the house stands directly on the road betwixt Londonand Southampton. Thou hadst best look to thy clothes and suchthings as thou mayest need there; for I would not lose a chance ofsending thee safely guarded. I shall to Abraham Dyson this veryevening, to ask what business is doing by road with Southamptonjust now. "

"And how long shall I be away, father?"

"Nay, child, that I know not. Prudence makes no mention of that. Haply, I take it, a matter of three months or so, since had theladies been leaving shortly she would scarce have sent so urgentlyfor thee. Thou wilt not be home for thy Christmas, I fear; but thouwilt be in a good and a godly house, with thine own aunt to watchover thee; and I trow that thou wilt so act and comport thyself asto bring credit and not disgrace upon the name thou bearest. "

"I will try, good father, " answered Cherry with great meekness; andher father kissed her and bid her begone, for that he was about togo forth and talk to Abraham Dyson on this matter. 

Cherry went up to her room feeling bewildered, half frightened, andyet elated and pleased. Something had come to break at last thelong monotony of the life which she felt was crushing the spiritout of her. She was going to a place where it seemed that she mustsurely have news of Cuthbert, and where, if she did not pass him onthe road, she would certainly be nearer to him. 

Her sisters, greatly astonished, could scarcely believe their earswhen told that Cherry was really going away; and Keziah hung overher with wistful eyes, assisting her to get her clothes ready, andwondering what the house would seem like without its rebellious andmost attractive member. 

"Methinks it will be duller than ever, " she said. "Jacob willscarce care to come if thou art gone. "

"Jacob! why, I trow he will but come the more, " answered Cherry, with a saucy gleam in her eye as she looked in Kezzie's grave face. "He will come to thee for comfort, my sister, and I trow that thouwilt give it him in full measure. "

Keziah's grave face lighted up somewhat. 

"Thinkest thou that? Indeed I would gladly try. Jacob is a good ladand a kind one. I marvel thou dost not treat him better, Cherry. "

"I like Jacob; he is very good. We are great friends, " answeredCherry hastily, "but--"

There she broke off and busied herself over her trunk, saying asshe leaned so far into it that her face could not be seen, "Kezzie, if Cuthbert should come back, thou wilt tell him where I have gone. Tell him I am with his kinsfolk, and ask him if he goes that way topay a visit to them. "

"I will, " answered Keziah, who had her own ideas about Cuthbert'ssudden and entire disappearance; "but I fear me we shall seeCuthbert no more. He--"

"Why sayest thou so? What dost thou know? What dost thou mean, Keziah? Hast thou heard aught of him?"

"Bless the child--no--" answered Keziah hastily "How should I knowaught of him? But, Cherry, my sweet sister, be not angry with me ifI say it. Cuthbert is a Trevlyn, for all that our aunt was hismother. He is of rank above ours. He may have made friends in hisown walk in life. He may repent him of the friendships he made atthe bridge house. Be not wroth with me for saying it, but menbefore him have gone forth and returned not to those who looked forthem. But if he comes I will tell him--I will tell him all. Only donot too greatly count upon it. I grieve so lest thou shouldest bedisappointed. "

Cherry said nothing. She would not even by a word seem to doubtCuthbert's fidelity. Keziah, if she did not know how matters stoodbetwixt them, knew enough to have a very shrewd suspicion of it. She had been in some sort Cherry's confidante. Both the sisters hadsome knowledge of each other's secret. 

The next evening, just before it grew dark, as Cherry was sittingalone in the upper parlour, exempt from household toil that shemight get her own wardrobe ready, and now having laid her needleaside because she could no longer see, the door opened, and thetall, loose figure of Jacob Dyson appeared framed against the darkbackground of the staircase behind, and the girl sprang to her feetwith a little exclamation of pleasure and welcome. 

"I thought that thou wouldst come to see me, Jacob. Thou hast heardthat I am going away?"

"Ay, I have heard it. Art thou glad to be going, Cherry?"

"Yes, verily I am. I am sick at heart for news of him, andperchance I may get it where I be going. I shall be near his homeand his kinsfolk. "

Jacob had sat down, and was turning his cap round and round inthose large red hands that were such an offence to the girl. Aftera few moments of silence he looked up and said:

"Cherry, hast thou ever thought of the things thou hast said tome--of the promise thou hast given?"

She bent her head low, and the whispered "Yes, " was barely audible. 

"Thou wilt not go back from thy word?"

She raised her head suddenly and said:

"No, Jacob, I will not go back from my word. Thou hast been verygood and kind and patient; and if in time to come it should beproved that Cuthbert is dead, or has wed another and been false tome, then I will say naught against thee, but will do as my fathersaith, and strive to make thee a good wife. But I have neverpromised to love thee as a wife should love her husband. Thou mustnot expect that of me, Jacob. "

She lifted her eyes to his with a look that sent a quick thrillthrough him. He put out one of his hands and took hers, saying invery gentle tone, though his gestures were slightly uncouth:

"I will only strive might and main to win thy love, sweetheart. Methinks if thy heart were once free again thou mightest learn thelesson. "

She shook her head and answered very low:

"Thou couldst learn to love again, good Jacob; but I--never. Iwould that thou couldst look around thee, and find a good anduseful wife whom thy mother would welcome; who would love theewell, and whom thou couldst love without let. There be such--I amwell assured of it. As for me, even though some day thou shouldstgain my hand, my heart can never be thine. "

Jacob looked at her with a wistful, dog-like devotion, and heaved aheavy sigh. That unselfish and faithful youth was going through arather hard probation, such as so often falls upon the best andwarmest hearted of earth's sons, who have been denied those outwardgraces that charm the fancy and take the eye. He had long sincedivined the secret of the attachment betwixt Cuthbert and Cherry;and when urged by his father to press his own suit, had beenbackward in so doing. On Cuthbert's disappearance he had one dayspoken openly to Cherry of his suspicions, and she had frankly toldhim all, begging him to keep their secret, and to hold off his ownsuit until Cuthbert's quest should be over, and he could come toclaim her as his own. 

Truth to tell, Jacob had little belief in the finding of the losttreasure; but he did believe in Cuthbert, whom he loved only secondto Cherry, and whom he would any day have set before himself. Hemade Cherry a promise that it should be as she desired; that hewould give her time to test Cuthbert's sincerity before he spokeanother word of marriage with her. But he also timidly asked inreturn for the sacrifice he was making, and as a reward for hischampionship, that if Cuthbert should never return, if harm shouldbefall him in the forest, or if some other maiden should win hisheart and hand, that then Cherry should become his wife, and lethim try to comfort her by his own devoted and life-long love. 

Cherry had given the promise without overmuch persuasion. What goodwould life be to her without Cuthbert? she had argued. If she couldmake any one else happy, she might as well do it as not. Jacob wasvery good. He would be kind to her and patient with her, whilst heraunt Susan would be just the reverse. Life under such conditions, beneath that unsympathetic rule, would be well-nigh unendurable. Itwould be better for her own sake to wed Jacob and escape from itall. And when the promise had been given, it seemed so littlelikely that she would be called upon to fulfil it! Even now shescarcely contemplated it seriously, for her heart was filled withhope. Was she herself not going towards the forest and Cuthbert?Surely she would hear somewhat of him there!

"I shall ask none other woman to be my wife until I know that thoucanst never be mine, Cherry, " answered Jacob, with gentleobstinacy. "I shall never wish aught of ill to Cuthbert. Thouknowest that I would stand betwixt him and peril an I might. Buttill he stands at thy side and claims thee as his own, I will notgive thee up. I can bide my time--I can wait and watch. "

She looked at him with suddenly dilating eyes, as though a qualm offear had smitten her. 

"But, Jacob, if he were to come hither when I be gone, thou wouldstnot hinder him from finding me; thou wouldst not do him any illturn that we might be kept apart? That would not be fair; it wouldbe an ill thing. It would be--"

She stopped suddenly short, for Jacob had risen, and seemed tostand towering above her, with something majestic in his air thatshe had certainly never observed there before. 

"Cherry! for what dost thou take me?" he asked, his voice quiveringwith an emotion that showed him to be deeply moved. "Hast thou sovile an opinion of the man thou mayest some day call thy husband, the man who bears the name of thy dead mother, that thou canstthink such evil thoughts of him? No, Cherry, I will not hinder himfrom finding thee. I will in no wise stand between you. I will aidhim with all that is in my power to find thee. If peril shouldmenace him and I could stand betwixt him and it, I would do sogladly. I would lay down my life for him, if by so doing thou andhe might one day be happy. Dost think that I prize my life so high, since I may not win the crown that would make its happiness? If Imay not live for thee, Cherry, methinks I would sooner die forthee, if by so doing I might win thee happiness and love. I lovethee and I love Cuthbert. I ask nothing better than that I may insome sort serve and save you twain. "

And with a gesture of rugged dignity of which Cherry was keenlyaware, and which raised Jacob to an altogether different level inher mind, he held out his hand as if to seal the compact, andwithout waiting for her broken words of explanation and apology, turned and walked out of the room. 

Two days later Cherry started forth upon her travels. Her fatherwent part of the way with her, and left her but seven miles fromthe end of her journey. She was escorted by a body of merchants andtheir servants, who were transporting some merchandise toSouthampton, and were a goodly company in themselves for fear ofassault from the robbers of the road. As they had quantities ofvaluables with them, they intended to travel only during thedaylight hours, and after leaving Cherry at the Cross Way House, would put up for the night at the nearest town on the southern sideof the forest. 

How Cherry's heart beat as her fellow travellers pointed out thewall and chimneys of her destination, and the whole party reined upat the door! The Cross Way House was well known to travellers asbeing one of the regular landmarks along the road. It was ahospitable mansion for any wayfarers in distress, and its mistresswas held in high repute, and had never yet been molested orthreatened by the highway bands, who might have been troublesome tothe members of any household whose walls abutted so close upon theroad. Lady Humbert was reaping the reward for the renowned kindnessof heart of the whole Wyvern family towards all the lowly, theunfortunate, and the oppressed; and though many a fugitive fleeingfrom the robbers had found shelter within her walls, these hadproved as safe shelter as the walls of any ancient sanctuary; foronce within Lady Humbert's gates and not even the most hated andhunted foe need fear further molestation. 

Cherry had heard some such words as these as the party had joggedonwards together; and now she found herself standing timidly at theback entrance of the house, her box beside her, and one of heruncle's friends at her side. When the door was opened and herguardian spoke her name and errand, she was quickly made welcome toenter, and after saying a hasty goodbye to the kindly merchant, found herself traversing several long stone passages, till she wasfinally ushered into a low parlour, where an elderly woman satbrewing over the fire some concoction which looked like one ofMistress Susan's compounds of berries and spice. 

"Sure it is my good aunt, Prudence Dyson, " said Cherry, as thewoman looked quickly round. "Methinks I should have guessed thatanywhere, thou art so like to my uncle. "

The woman came forward and saluted her niece gravely and kindly. 

"Thou art Martin Holt's daughter? What is thy name, child? I couldscarce make it out from Susan's letter, for she is no scholar, asshe ofttimes says. I am right glad to welcome thee, and I trustthou comest to us with a willing heart?"

"A right willing heart, " answered the girl, smiling bravely, despite the strangeness of her surroundings; for there wassomething home-like and comforting in the aspect of her aunt and inthe sound of her voice. "I was glad my father's choice lighted onme, and I will strive to please in all I do. My name is Cherry--atleast that is how I am always called. And who are the ladies uponwhom I am to wait?"

"The one whom thou wilt chiefly serve is Mistress Kate Trevlyn, adaughter of Sir Richard Trevlyn of the Chase. I know not if thouknowest aught of the family, but most like thou art aware that thyaunt Bridget made a luckless marriage with one Nicholas Trevlyn, whereby she cast herself adrift from all her family. Why, child, what a colour thou hast! What dost thou know of this matter?"

"I know my cousin Cuthbert Trevlyn, " answered Cherry, trying tospeak naturally, though her heart beat wildly all the while. "Hecame to us a year ago, and remained beneath my father's roof tillthe summer had well-nigh come. From him we learned much of thefamily; and right glad am I to think that I may serve MistressKate, who was a kind friend to him in times past. My cousinCuthbert was much beloved by all our house whilst he remainedbeneath our roof. We have not heard of him this many a day. Dostthou know aught of him, my aunt?"

Prudence Dyson gave her niece a quick, sharp glance, and thenanswered a little evasively:

"Thou must ask that question of Mistress Kate, my dear, if she willplease to talk with thee. She may have had news of him belike. Asfor us of this household, we hear but little of what happens in theworld beyond. We are all growing old together. "

Had it not been for the earnestness with which they were talking, the aunt and niece might have heard a light footfall down thepassage. The door was softly pushed open, and a clear voice asked:

"Is Mistress Dowsabel's hot posset ready, Dyson? she has asked forit more than once. "

Both women started and turned round, and Cherry uttered a littleinvoluntary cry, whilst the name "Cuthbert" sprang to her lips sofast that she was not sure that she had not uttered it aloud. Hereyes were fixed upon the face of the dark-eyed girl who had broughtthe message. 

"I will take it at once, " said Dyson, hastily lifting it from thefire. "I crave my lady's pardon for being late with it; but myniece from London has but just arrived, and I was hindered for themoment. 

"Cherry, wait here till I return, and then I will speak more withthee. "

Dyson hurried away with the posset, and the two girls stood gazingat each other, a light of welcome and amaze in both their eyes. 

"Cherry! did she call thee Cherry? and from London, too? And Katebath ofttimes said that--Oh, why waste words?" cried the girl, breaking off quickly. "Tell me, art thou Martin Holt's daughter?art thou my brother Cuthbert's Cherry?"

"Thy brother? then thou art Petronella!" cried Cherry, in a maze ofbewilderment; and even as she spoke the name she felt Petronella'sarms about her, and they were laughing and kissing, questioning andexclaiming, all in the most incoherent fashion, yet contriving tomake each other understand some fragments of their respectivestories, till at last Petronella drew herself away and laid herhand on Cherry's arm, saying as she did so:

"But remember that here I am Ellen Wyvern, and not even good Dysonknows more than that. Be on thy guard, good coz, and only speakfamiliarly to me in secret. O Cherry, how I have longed to seethee--Cuthbert's Cherry, of whom I have heard so much! And howcomest thou hither? Has he sent thee?"

"He? I have not seen him these six months past. Petronella, sweetcousin, give me good news of him. "

"Why, so I can--the very best. He has found the treasure. It issafely lodged here. And he has gone forth into the forest again, first to tell the tale to the gipsy queen, who has been his friendthrough all, and then to return to London to thy father's house toseek his Cherry once again, and claim her hand before all theworld. "

Chapter 21: The Gipsy's Warning. 

"Thy task is done, and it is well done. But now get thee from theforest with all speed, for there is peril to thee here. "

So said Joanna, standing before Cuthbert in the pixies' dell, herhand upon the low stone wall, her tall figure drawn up to its fullheight. She had been looking thoughtfully down into the sparklingwater, which was now filling the well as of old, whilst Cuthberttold his tale with graphic power. An expression of calm triumph wason her face as she heard how the long-lost hoard was lying safelystored within the house of the Wyverns--a house sacred to thegipsies and safe from any raids of robbers, such was the esteem inwhich that name was held. She looked like one whose task is done, who feels a heavy load lifted from the mind; but the glance fixedupon Cuthbert's eager face was also one of gravity and meaning. 

"The forest is no place for thee now, " she said; "get thee hence asfast as thou canst. "

"And wherefore so?" asked Cuthbert, surprised. "Methought the perilceased with the death of--"

"Hush!" said the gipsy, almost sternly; "bethink thee that theremay be listeners even now about us in these thick bushes, and guardthy words with caution. Remember the strange links that bindtogether those of the wild gipsy blood; and remember that LongRobin lies in his bloody grave not far from here. "

She lowered her voice as she spoke, and Cuthbert instinctivelyfollowed her example. 

"But no man knows that. "

"How canst thou tell?"

"None saw the deed. It was done in the dead of night. Ere morningcame he was laid below the earth. Thou thyself knew not what hadbefallen him till I spoke the word. "

He looked at her as if in momentary distrust; but the calm gaze andthe noble countenance of the gipsy seemed to reassure him. Joanna, who had read his thought, smiled slightly. 

"Nay, boy, thou needst not fear treachery from Joanna, and thegipsy queen will give thee all protection in her power. Have I nottold thee that upon me, when I received that title, was laid thecharge of seeing the stolen treasure restored to the house ofTrevlyn? To thy courage and resolve and perseverance and skillbelongs it that this charge is now fulfilled. Thou needst not fearthat any ill will or lack of caution on Joanna's part will causeevil to light upon thy head. But there are others with whom thoumayest have to reckon. There is Miriam, to whom Long Robin was asthe apple of the eye. "

"Yet he was not her husband (he is no aged man), and he can scarcehave been her son. "

"No matter. As I have told thee ere this, there be strange bondsbetwixt us of the gipsy blood, binding closer and firmer than everties of kinship do. Miriam loved yon man with a love passing allothers. She has missed him these many weeks. She is frantic withanxious grief. She is convinced that some ill has befallen him. Sheis rousing to anger and vengeance the whole tribe. They have vowedthat they will find Robin, whether he be dead or alive, and that ifdead they will avenge them on his murderer. Already suspicion hasfallen upon thee. Dost think thy many journeys through the foresthave passed unnoted by us?"

"I have never seen a soul; I had not known myself watched. "

"Luckily for thee thou hast not been watched, else would little ofthe treasure have been placed in safe keeping. Thou hast reaped thebenefit Robin hoped to reap himself alone when he surrounded thisdell as with a barrier that no man might pass. Even the most daringspirits of our tribe dare not come here; and Miriam, who bids themscour the forest in all other directions, fears to tell them tocome hither, albeit I well know she will shortly search the spotherself if Robin come not soon. Then she will find the grave; itwill not escape her eyes. First she will think the lost treasurelies there, for I am convinced that Robin never told her the fullsecret. Then when she looks farther, she will find what that gravereally contains; and thou hadst best be far away ere that daycomes. Thou hast been seen. Thy journeyings in the forest haveprovoked wonder and curiosity. Let Miriam once learn that Robinlies there, and the whole truth will flash upon her; and then lookthou to thyself!"

These words were spoken with such significance that Cuthbertexperienced an involuntary qualm of fear. 

"I thank thee for the warning, " he said; "I will avail myself ofthy kind counsel. I had thought of journeying to London ere this. There, it may be, I shall be hidden from their malice. "

"Thou wilt be safer there than here, " answered the gipsy quietly;"I will not say thou wilt be truly safe in any spot if Miriam's irebe once roused against thee. She has a wondrous fierce spirit, andshe has influence with our people second only to mine. And thenthere hung about Long Robin a mysterious charm. Men loved himnot--they feared and distrusted him; and yet, were it to be knownthat he had met his death by violence, Miriam would have but smalltrouble in stirring up the hearts of a score of stout fellows vowedto vengeance. In the forest thou wilt have small chance of thylife. "

"Perchance they will follow me to London, " said Cuthbert; "if so, it will be small use to fly. "

"In London our folks have fears for themselves, " answered the gipsyqueen. "Half of them are outlawed; the other half lie beneath thesuspicion of sorcery, which in these days is almost worse. They mayhover about the dens of the city, but they will fear to molest theeelsewhere. Thou must take heed how thou venturest beyond the citywalls, for Tyrrel and his men may be lurking beyond on the watch. "

"Methought Tyrrel and Miriam were no such friends, " said Cuthbert, recollecting the night when he had been brought to the mill. "Willhe take up her quarrel?"

"If she can make him believe that Robin had the secret of the losttreasure, and that thou didst force the secret from him ere thoulaidest him in his grave, he will take up the quarrel in right goodearnest, and rest not till he has learned where the treasure hasbeen hid. We of the gipsy tribe have as little believed in that hidtreasure as the house of Trevlyn, hence its safety all these years. But let Miriam once tell what she knows--which is something, Iwarrant--and there may be many who will then believe that thesecret was in Robin's keeping. They will be certain sure that thouwouldst not have killed the man until thou hadst made sure of thetreasure. It would be acting like the fabled yokel who killed thegoose that laid the golden eggs. Wherefore be gone. Hide thyself inLondon town. In a few weeks or months the chase may be over; butfor the time being beware of the forest!"

"I will, " answered Cuthbert. "I thank thee for thy good counsel. Iwill be speedily gone. "

Joanna stood looking reflectively at him. 

"Thou wouldst he safest within the walls that shelter thetreasure--with thy kinsfolk of the house of Wyvern. "

"Nay, but I must first go to London, " answered Cuthbert quickly; "Ihave been long absent. My kinsfolk there will be looking for newsof me. And perchance my presence in the house of my kinswomen mightimperil them. I would not be a cause of danger to them. "

"Thou art a bold and true-hearted lad, " answered Joanna; "and itmay be well that for the nonce thou shouldest keep away from theCross Way House. Thy presence there might awaken suspicion; thoughI scarce believe that any lust of gold would drive our people toattack that house. Go then to London, and lose thyself thereawhile. Presently thou mayest return and see how thy sister fareth;but not too soon--not too soon!"

Cuthbert started. 

"My sister!" he said; "how knowest thou that?"

Joanna smiled her lofty smile. 

"Ask a gipsy how she knoweth what takes place within the limits ofher domain! Tush, boy! thinkest thou that I do not know all thatpasses in the forest? Thy sister has done well to find a shelterthere. She is safer at the Cross Way House than in this dell withthee. "

"If she is safe I can well look to myself, " answered Cuthbert, withthe confidence of youth and strength. "To be warned where the perillies is half the battle. I will be cautious--I will be wary; andhaving naught to keep me in the forest, I will start for Londontown this very day. "

"Ay, do so, and without an hour's delay. Old Miriam is raging likea fury. Tyrrel may at any moment return, and I trow she will rousehim to bitter enmity towards thee. Fly, before any strive to staythee. And when thou hast reached the city, go once again to Esther. Tell her that the deed is done, the treasure found, that it lies inthe house of the Wyverns, and that the luck has come back to thehouse, as was always said, through the daughters' sons. "

"I will, " answered Cuthbert; and bidding a farewell to the gipsy, to whose protection and goodwill he owed so much, he left the delland made his way rapidly through the forest, till he struck theroad which would lead him to London. 

He would not turn out of the direct way to go to the Cross WayHouse, though he would gladly have seen his sister and Kate and hisaged kinswomen again. He did not wish them to know of the perilwhich might threaten his own path, nor did he desire to drawattention to that house by directing his steps thither in broaddaylight. Plainly his presence in the forest had already excitedremark. He had been seen far oftener than he had known. If he didnot linger, but pursued his way to London without delay, he mightreach it by nightfall, and that was no small inducement to him. Petronella knew that he was bound thither; she would not reckon onseeing him again. And there was Cherry at the other end. Thethought of seeing her again that very day drew him onwards like amagnet. During these long weeks of search and hard toil, thethought of Cherry had been the best sweetener of his labour. He hadtalked of her with his sister, he had dreamed of her when he laydown to sleep at night, and now he was on his way to see her, totell her all the tale, and ask her at her father's hand. Thethought was sweet to intoxication, and his eager anticipationseemed to put wings to his feet. 

How different were his feelings as he drew near to the great citythis second time! It was just about a year since he had entered itfor the first time, a stranger, homeless, well-nigh penniless, andvery uncertain of the reception he should receive from his kinsfolkon the bridge. Now he stepped towards the region of shining lightswith all confidence and joy. He was rich past his wildest hopes, for the treasure had proved to be far greater than even his fondestdreams had credited; and he knew that when division was made, itwould be no niggard portion that would fall to the share of thefinder. He had won for himself such goodwill from his kinsfolk aswould stand him in good stead in days to come. He had enlarged hisscholarship, made for himself a number of friends of all degrees, and, above all, had won the love of his cousin Cherry, and aposition which would enable him speedily to ask her at her father'shands. He would fulfil his boyish promise made last Yuletide, whenhe vowed her that the day should come when she should no longerpine for the innocent gaieties and luxuries of wealth, but shouldherself be a lady of some degree, and should have her house and herhorses and servants, and a bright and happy future with the husbandof her choice. 

Now he had set foot upon the bridge, and was eagerly traversing thefamiliar roadway, as the short daylight faded and the lights fromthe houses shone out brighter and brighter in the gloom. Hisuncle's house was almost in sight. His heart was beating high withanticipation and delight, when a hand was laid suddenly upon hisshoulder, and he turned to find himself face to face with AnthonyCole. 

He was about to exclaim in words of pleasure and welcome, when hisattention was arrested by the strange expression upon the thin, eager face--an expression so strange that it checked thecommonplace words of greeting that sprang naturally to Cuthbert'slips, and he waited in silence for what Anthony should say. 

"Thou hast come! it is well, " said the latter, in tones that werelittle above a whisper. "Methought that thou wouldst not be absentat such a time. Well doth it behove every true son of the Church torally round her at such a moment. I felt assured that thou wouldstbe here. Others beside me have been watching for thee. It is well. Keep thine own counsel; be wary, be discreet. And now go. It bootsnot that we be seen talking together thus. When thou hast fittingopportunity, come secretly to my house; thou wilt be welcomethere. "

And half pushing Cuthbert from him before the bewildered youth hadtime to speak a single word, the printer disappeared within his owndoor, and Cuthbert was left to make his way to his uncle's house. 

"Beshrew me if I know what Master Anthony means!" said Cuthbert tohimself. "I trow there be matters stirring in London town of whichwe in the country know nothing. How strange it is that one canhardly set foot in this great seething city without hearing wordsof mystery--without feeling oneself enwrapped in its strangeatmosphere of doubt and perplexity. Something is doubtless astir ofwhich I know naught; but at my uncle's house I shall hear all. "

The shutters were just being put up at Martin Holt's as Cuthbertstepped across the threshold. The servant uttered a cry ofastonishment as he saw his master's nephew, and Martin himself cameforward from the little room behind. 

"Bless me, is it thou, Cuthbert?" he exclaimed in surprise. "Well, boy, thou art welcome since thou art come, though we had almostbegun to think thou hadst forgot us and thy promise to return. Comeupstairs and greet thy aunt and cousins. Hast thou seen aught ofCherry, as thou comest from the south?"

Cuthbert stepped back a pace, and some of the light went out of hisface. 

"Cherry!" he stammered, taken aback. "How should I have seen her?Is she not here?"

"Not for a matter of four days. She is helping her aunt, PrudenceDyson at the Cross Way House, to wait upon some guests the ladiesare entertaining. Methought if you had come that way you might havechanced upon her. "

A keen thrill of disappointment ran through Cuthbert's frame. Tothink how near he had been to Cherry and had never guessed it! Ifonly he had called at the Cross Way House that day!

"I have not been there for the matter of a week. I was last atTrevlyn Chase; but mine uncle and his son have gone to London, as Iheard. I had hoped to find Cherry here. "

"Well, thou wilt find all but her. Go up, go up! Thou wilt needrefreshment after thy journey, and thou shalt hear the news as wesup. Thine old room shall be made ready for thee. I am glad to seethy face again, boy; and would hear thy story anon. "

Cuthbert received a warmer welcome than he had looked for from theaunt and cousins upstairs. Perhaps they were all missing thebrightness that had left them when Cherry went. Perhaps the vacantplace at the board day by day was an offence to the conservativeeye of Mistress Susan. But whatever was the cause, there was nodenying the cordiality of the reception accorded to him; and afterthe lonely life of the forest, and all his wanderings there, hisstrange resting places, and many hours of watching, toil, andanxious fear, it seemed pleasant indeed to be sitting at thishospitable board, warmed by the friendly glow of the fire, anddiscussing the savoury viands that always adorned a table ofMistress Susan's spreading, and which did indeed taste well afterthe hardy and sometimes scanty fare he had known in the forest. 

But his open-air life had done him good in many ways. His unclesmiled, and told him he had grown to be a very son of Anak, andthat he was as brown as a gipsy; whilst his cousins looked at himwith furtive admiration, and Keziah could almost have wept thatCherry was not there to welcome him. 

Cuthbert, however, quickly got over his disappointment on thisscore, and after swallowing a few sighs, was content to think thatit might indeed be best so. Cherry would learn where he was fromPetronella, and would hear from her that his heart was still herown, and that success had crowned his search after the losttreasure. He could go to seek her shortly, when the gipsy tribeshould have drawn away from that part of the forest into thequarters they preferred during the winter months. Were she to behere, he must surely betray himself, and should have to speakimmediately to Martin Holt of his desire to make Cherry his wife. Somehow, when face to face with his uncle, he felt less confidentof winning his sanction for this step than he had done when awayfrom him in the forest. There it had seemed perfectly simple solong as he could show the father that he had the means to keep awife in comfort. Now he began to wonder if this would be enough. Hints were dropped by both the Holts regarding Cherry's approachingmarriage with Jacob Dyson. Mistress Susan openly regretted herabsence from home as hindering that ceremony; and although MartinHolt spoke with more reticence, it was plain he was stillcherishing the hope of the match when his wilful youngest should bea little older. 

It might be that Cherry's absence at this time was fortunate ratherthan the reverse. Cuthbert, at any rate, was relieved from thenecessity for immediate action; and when he had spoken a little ofhimself, his kinsfolk, and the visits he had paid during hiswanderings in the forest (keeping the real object of thosewanderings quite out of the talk), he turned his conversation toother matters, and asked what was passing in London, and what waschiefly stirring men's minds. 

"Marry it is the opening of Parliament that is the chiefest thing, "said Martin Holt. "It is said in the city that his Majesty lovesnot his good Parliament; and truly it looks like it, since he hasput off its opening so many a time. First it was to have been lastFebruary, then not till the third of this present month. Now it isagain prolongued till the fifth of November next; but I trow hisMajesty will scarce dare to postpone again. His people like notthose rulers who fear to meet those who are chosen by them todebate on matters of the state. It looks not well for the sovereignto fear to meet his people. "

Cuthbert, who knew little about such matters, asked many questionsabout Parliament and its assemblies. His uncle answered him freelyand fully, and explained to him exactly the site of the buildingwhere the great body assembled. 

"Thou canst take the wherry thou used to love so well, and rowthyself to Westminster one of these days, and look well at theParliament Houses, " said Martin Holt. "It is a grand spectacle tosee the King come in state to open the assembly. Thou mayest seethat sight, too, an thou purposest to stay with us so long. "

"I would gladly do so, " answered Cuthbert, who remembered that hewas bidden not to return to the forest too quickly. He knew that, now he was safely away, Joanna would allow all search to be madeafter him there, and that it would soon be ascertained that he hadfled. But whilst that search was going on, he was safest in London, and was glad enough of the opportunity of seeing any gay pageant. 

As he lay in his narrow bed that night, enjoying the comfort of itafter his chilly nook in the tree, which had been his best shelterof late, and somewhat disturbed by the noises that from time totime arose from the street below, he recalled to mind the strangegreeting he had received from Anthony Cole, and wondered anew athis mysterious words. 

And then his fancy somehow strayed to the great Parliament Housesof which his uncle had spoken. He remembered that strange darkjourney across the river from Lambeth and the lonely house there toWestminster and its lofty palaces. He recalled the locality of thehouse he had entered, where Catesby and his friends were assembledat some strange toil, and the terrified aspect these men all worewhen some unexpected sound had smitten upon their ears. He recalledthe sudden fierce grip of Catesby's hand upon his arm before herecognized the face of the stranger within their midst. Herecollected the threats he had striven to speak binding him to thesilence he was so willing to promise. 

What did it all mean? what could it mean? Lying in the dark, andturning the matter over and over in his mind, Cuthbert began tofeel some fearful and sinister suspicions. 

The month when all this had happened had been early in the year;was it January, or early February? He could scarce remember, but heknew it was one or the other. And had not his uncle said thatParliament was to have met in February? Now that it was about tomeet soon again, had not Anthony spoken words implying that somemuster of friends was looked for in London; and had not Anthony andhis son always regarded him in the light of a friend and ally?

Cuthbert was by this time aware that he had but little love leftfor the creed in which he had been reared. It seemed to him thatall, or at any rate far the greater part, of what was precious inthat creed was equally open to him in the Church established in theland, together with the liberty to read the Scriptures for himself, and to exercise his own freedom of conscience as no priest of theRomish Church would ever let him exercise it. With him there hadbeen no wild revulsion of feeling, no sense of tearing and rendingaway from one faith to join himself to another. His own convictionshad been of gradual growth, and he still felt and would always feela certain loving loyalty towards the Church of his childhood. Still, he was increasingly convinced of the fact that it was notwithin that fold that he himself could ever find true peace andconviction of soul; and though no ardent theologian, and by nomeans given over to controversy and dogmatism, he had reached asteady conclusion as to his own faith, and one that was littlelikely to be shaken. 

At the same time he was kindly disposed to those of his countrymenwho were still beneath the Papal yoke, and were suffering for theirold allegiance. He honoured their constancy, and felt even a boyishsense of shame in having, as it were, deserted the weaker side whenit was in trouble and undergoing persecution. He felt a qualm ofuneasiness when he thought of this, and would gladly have sharedthe perils if he could have shared the convictions of those who hadstriven to make him their friend. Cuthbert was a little in advanceof his times in the facility with which he set aside matters ofopinion in the choosing of his friends. Those were days in whichmen were seldom able to do this. They still divided themselves intoopposing camps, and hated not only the opinions embraced by theirrivals, but the rivals themselves, without any discrimination atall. To be intimate and friendly with those of hostile opinions wasfar more rare then than it has since become; and Cuthbert, whopossessed that faculty, was liable to be greatly misunderstood, andto run into perils of which he little dreamed. 

Thinking of those things he had seen that strange night led him towonder more and more what it could all mean; and, accordingly, uponthe morrow the first visit he paid was to Anthony Cole on thebridge, hoping that through him this curiosity might be in some waysatisfied. 

Cuthbert took the privilege accorded him in old times, and walkedthrough the house and up the narrow staircase without pausing inthe shop below. It was still early, and business had not yet begun. The house was very silent; but he heard low-toned voices above, andpursued his way towards them. As he did so a door, the existence ofwhich had never been discovered by him before, though he thoughtthe house was well known by him from attic to basement, suddenlyopened from the staircase, and a head appeared for a singleinstant, and was as suddenly withdrawn. The door closed sharply, and he heard the click as of a spring falling back to its place. Hepassed his hand across his eyes as he exclaimed beneath his breath:

"Sure that was Father Urban--"

But he began to feel doubtful as to his right to come and go inthis house at will, and was about to descend the stairs quietlyagain, when a door opened from above, and some one came hastilydown the stairs. Cuthbert fancied he saw the gleam of some weaponin the hand of the advancing figure, and felt that he had better beupon his guard. 

"Cuthbert Trevlyn!" exclaimed a familiar voice, and a hand wasslipped beneath the doublet, and there was no further gleam of coldsteel. "I am right glad to welcome thee. It is well for friends tomuster at such a time. Comest thou with news?"

Walter Cole was the speaker. His face too wore something of thelook which Cuthbert had observed on the father's the previousevening--an expression of strained expectancy, as if with longwaiting mind and spirit had alike grown worn and over anxious. Thebright eyes scanned his face eagerly. Cuthbert felt half ashamed ofhis ignorance of and indifference to the burning questions of theday. 

"I have heard naught, I know naught. I have been living the life ofthe forests these past months, " he answered, following Walter intoa small room where they had often worked together. "I have heard noword of what was passing in the world; I come to learn that here. "

The eagerness faded from Walter's face. He spoke much more quietly. 

"Belike thou wert right to hide and live thus obscure; many of ourleaders have done the like. It is ofttimes the best and the safestplan. But the time is at hand, and we must rally around them now. When the hour has struck and when the deed is done, then will it befor us to work--then will our hour of toil come. East and west, north and south, must we spur forth with the tidings. The wholenation must hear it and be roused. The blow must be struck whilstthe iron is hot. Thus and only thus can we be secure of thepromised victory. "

Walter spoke quietly, yet with an undercurrent of deep enthusiasmthat struck an answering chord in Cuthbert's heart. All true anddeep feeling moved him to sympathy. His friend was talking inriddles to him; but he felt the earnestness and devotion of theman, and his sympathy was at once aroused. 

"What hour? what blow? what deed?" he asked wonderingly. "I knownot of what thou speakest. "

Walter drew his brows together and regarded him with an expressionof intense and wondering scrutiny. When he spoke it was in adifferent tone, as though he were carefully weighing his everyword, as though he were a little uncertain of the ground on whichhe stood. There was something of evasive vagueness in his tone, whilst his eyes were fixed on Cuthbert's face as though he wouldread his very soul. 

"Methought thou knewest how cruelly we suffered, and that we trustsome stroke of kind fortune's wheel may ere long make lifesomething better for us. The King meets his Parliament soon. Thenis the time when men's grievances may be discussed, and when thereis hope for all that wiser and more merciful laws may be passed. Wehave gathered together at this time to see what may be done. We areresolved, as thou must surely know, not to suffer like this forever. Half the people of the realm be with us. It were strange ifnothing could be accomplished. Cuthbert Trevlyn, answer me this:thou dost wish us well; thou art not a false friend--one who woulddeceive and betray?"

"Never, never, never!" answered Cuthbert, with all the heat ofyouth and generous feeling. "I would never betray those who havetrusted me, not though they were my foes. And I too hate andabominate these iniquitous laws that persecute men's bodies forwhat they hold with their minds and souls. I have sufferedpersecution myself. I know how bitter a thing it is. I would haveevery man free to believe that which his conscience approves. Iwould join with any who would implore the King to show mercy andclemency to his persecuted subjects. "

Walter's face relaxed; he looked relieved and pleased. 

"Methought that we could trust thee, Cuthbert. Thou art a Trevlyn;it must needs be thou art stanch. I am right glad that thou arthere. There may be work yet for thee to do. Thou wilt abide inthine uncle's house until--"

"Until Parliament opens at least, " answered Cuthbert quickly. "Ihave said as much to him, I would fain be there then and see itall. And my presence in the forest is known by foes; it is no placefor me longer. "

Then breaking off, for he had not meant to say so much, and had nowish to be further questioned on the subject, he asked in a lowtone:

"Sure it was Father Urban whose face I saw on the stairs but now?"

"Hist! silence!" whispered Walter, with a glance enforcing caution;"do not breathe that name even within these walls. He is here atrisk of his life; but at such a moment he will not be away. Awarrant is out against him. He may not venture abroad by night orday. But he can be useful in a thousand ways, for he knows morethan any other man of some matters appertaining to the state. Andif our hopes be realized, then he will emerge from his prison androve the country from end to end. He has friends in every place. Tohim we shall look for guidance in a hundred ways. "

Walter's eyes glowed. He looked like one to whom triumph is acertainty--one who anticipates success and already tastes thesweets thereof. Cuthbert was growing uncomfortable. He felt asthough he were hearing more than he ought to do. True, the Coleshad talked in very much this fashion all through the dark days ofthe previous winter when he had been so much with them. They werealways looking for a day of release, always dwelling on the brightprospects of the future. But some instinct told Cuthbert that therewas a difference now in the fashion of their talk, and he was madeuncomfortable by it though he scarce knew why. 

He rose to go. 

"I have but just returned. I have many visits to pay. I will comeagain anon, " he said. 

"Ay, but come not too openly. Let us not be seen consortingtogether. And as thou walkest the street, keep thine eyes and thineears open and attent, and learn ever what men say and think. Ifthou hearest aught of moment, bring it to us. Every whisper may beof value. And now farewell. Come not again by day, but slip in bythe door in the archway when all be wrapped in gloom. So it issafest. "

Cuthbert drew a deep breath of relief when he stood once again inthe fresh air. He walked rapidly through the familiar sunny streetsand strove to forget the impression made upon him by the recentinterview. 

"Plots, plots, plots!" he muttered--"nothing but dark plots, andthe hope that things will thus be set right. I misdoubt me if itwill ever be by such means. Poor souls! I pity them with all myheart; but I like not their ways. They are not the ways of truth, of uprightness, of equity. Methinks I had better hold aloof andhave no dealings with them. They seem to think because I likethem--the men themselves--and mislike these persecutions even asthey do, that I am one with them and understand their ways andtheir deeds. But I do not, I do not, and I think not that I evershall. I will go mine own way, and they must go theirs. It werebest not to meddle too much in strange matters. Now I will go andseek honest Jacob. From him methinks I shall get as warm a welcome, but a welcome that is not tinged with these mysteries and darkwords. "

Chapter 22: Whispers Abroad. 

"Have naught to do with them, Cuthbert! I like them not. "

"Yet they be good men, and stanch and true. Thou hast said sothyself a score of times in my hearing, good Jacob. Why should Iavoid them now? What have they done amiss?"

Jacob passed his large hand across his face, and looked at Cuthbertwith an expression of perplexity. 

"They are Papists, " he said at last, in a slightly vague andinconclusive fashion. 

Cuthbert laughed aloud. 

"Why, that I know well; and I am not scared by the name, as some ofyour Puritan folk seem to be. Papists, after all, are fellowmen--and fellow Christians too, if it comes to that. It was aChristian act of theirs to take to their home that hunted priestwhom we rescued that foggy night, Jacob. Many would have made muchado ere they had opened their doors to one in such plight. Thoucanst not deny that there was true Christian charity in that act. "

"Nay, nay, I would not try to deny it, " answered Jacob, in hiscalm, lethargic way, still regarding Cuthbert with a look ofadmiration and curiosity, somewhat as a savage regards a white man, scarce knowing from moment to moment what his acts will be. "Yetfor all that I would warn thee to keep away from that house. Menwhisper that there be strange doings there. I know not the truth ofwhat is spoken. But we walk in slippery places; it were well totake heed to our steps. "

Cuthbert returned Jacob's look with one equally tinged withcuriosity. 

"Nay now, speak more openly. What dost thou mean, good Jacob? Whatdo men say anent these Coles?"

Jacob glanced round and instinctively lowered his voice. 

"It is not of the Coles alone that they speak; it is of the wholefaction of the Papists. I know not what is said or what is known inhigh places; but this I know, that there be strange whispersabroad. "

Cuthbert's eyes lighted. A slight thrill ran through him. Herecalled the words recently spoken to him by his whilom friends. But all he said was:

"Verily men are ever whispering. It was the same cry when I washere a year agone, and no great thing has happened; wherefore thisnew fear?"

Jacob shook his head. His answer was spoken in a slow, ponderousfashion. 

"Men will speak and whisper; yet the world wags on as before, andmen well-nigh cease to listen or heed. But mark my word, Cuthbert, there be no smoke where there is not fire; and these Papists, whoare for ever plotting, plotting, plotting, will one day spring somestrange thing upon the world. There be so many cries of 'Wolf!'that folks begin to smile and say the real wolf will never come. But that follows not. I like not this ever-restless secret schemingand gathering together in dark corners. It is not for theirreligion that I hate and distrust the Papists. I know little aboutmatters of controversy. I meddle not in things too high for me. ButI hate them for their subtlety, their deceitful ways, their lying, and their fraud. Thou knowest how they schemed and plotted thedeath of good Queen Bess; we citizens of London find it hard toforgive them that! We love not the son of this same Mary Stuart, whom of old the Papists strove to give us for our Queen; yet he isour lawful King, accepted by the nation as our sovereign; andfailing him I know not whom we might choose to reign over us. Wherefore say I, Down with these schemers and plotters! If men wishtheir grievances redressed, let them work in the light and not inthe dark. We Protestants know that it is Bible law that evil mustnever be done that good may come; but the Papists hold that theymay do never so many crimes and evil deeds if they may but win somepoint of theirs at last. Thou dost not hold such false doctrine, Itrow, Cuthbert? thou art a soul above such false seeming. "

Cuthbert drew his brows together in a thoughtful reverie. 

"I trow thou hast the right of it, Jacob, " he answered. "I love notdark scheming, nor love I these endless plots. Yet in these days ofoppression it must be hard for men to act openly. If they be drivento secret methods, the fault is less theirs than that of theirrulers. "

"There be faults on both sides, I doubt not, " answered Jacob, withcalm toleration. "But two evils make not one good; and the Puritanswho suffer in like fashion do not plot to overthrow their rulers. "

"How knowest thou that the Papists do?" asked Cuthbert quickly. 

"It has always been their way, " answered Jacob; "and though I knowbut little of the meaning of the sinister whispers I hear, we havebut to look back to former days to see how it has ever been. Thinkof the two plots of this very reign, the 'Bye' and the 'Main'! Whatwas their object but the subversion of the present rulers? Whatthey have tried before they will try again; and we who live besidethis great river, and mingle with those who come from beyond theseas, do see and hear many things that others would not know. Therehave been comings and goings of late that I have not liked. It maybe that mine eyes have played me false, but methought one darknight I saw a figure strangely like Father Urban land at the wharf, and he was incontinently joined by Walter Cole, who took himhastily and secretly away. "

Cuthbert started slightly, and Jacob continued:

"And yet when I whispered a question to Walter a few days laterconcerning the priest, of whose welfare I have asked from time totime since I had a hand in his rescue, he told me that he was stillbeyond the seas, and that it was not like he would ever set foot onEnglish soil again. "

Cuthbert was silent. But he presently asked a question. 

"But who is this Father Urban? and why should his appearance meanaught, or disturb thee?"

"Father Urban is a Jesuit, and one of those they call seminarypriests, and all such are held in detestation and suspicion aboveall other Papists. When men lay hands on them they show them scantmercy. It is a saying in this land that when treason and murder andwickedness is abroad, a seminary priest is sure to be the leadingspirit. When those two last plots were hatching, this Father Urbanwas in the country. He has returned now, and many men are lookingabroad with fear, wondering how soon the calm will be interrupted. I like it not; I like it not; and I caution thee to keep away fromyon house, and to have no dealings with the Papists. They betreacherous friends as well as wily foes. It were best and safestfor thee to keep away from all such. Thou art not one of them; whyshouldest thou consort with them?"

"I do not consort with them, " answered Cuthbert; "but I have noneof thy hatred for the name, and these men have been kind andfriendly to me. I owe much to the lessons Anthony Cole has taughtme. I have no knowledge of their secrets, but I cannot see why Imay not speak a friendly word with them; even my uncle does that. "

"Ay, but he goes not to their house--and his name is not Trevlyn. "

"But what of that? the Trevlyns are now a stanch family, in favourwith the King and his counsellors. "

"Ay, but the name is not forgotten in many quarters as belonging toa race of persecuting Papists. It takes long for old memories todie out. Thou hadst better take heed, Cuthbert. A whisper againstthee would soon spread and take root. I prithee meddle not in suchmatters, lest some ill befall thee!"

Cuthbert thanked honest Jacob for his goodwill and for his warning, but he could not see that it was needed. He was but an obscureyouth, of no note in the world. He had no dealings with any ofthose plots of which men were whispering, and he could not see howany act of his could raise suspicion of any sort against him. Hewas growing intensely curious about the seething fire beneath theouter crust of quietness and security. If some great plot werehatching, if some great upheaval were at hand, why might not hescent out something beforehand? Why might not he discover what wasbaffling the sagacity of others? He had no wish to be a spy or aninformer; he had too much generous sympathy with the oppressed forthat. But he was intensely curious about it all, and he felt asthough his youth and obscurity would be his best protection if hechose to make some investigations on his own account. 

The old eager thirst for knowledge was coming upon him. The oldlove of adventure, which had run him into many perils already, hadnot been quenched by his recent experiences. Success had crownedhis labours in the forest; why should that success desert him now?And then the thought came to him that he might by chance discoversomething which might be of use to his own kinsmen. He knew thatSir Richard Trevlyn and his son Philip--Petronella's lover--were inLondon. Might it not be possible that they had better be elsewhereat such a time? Jacob's words about the Trevlyns might perchance betrue. He had heard his uncle say the same before. If any possibleperil should be menacing them, how gladly would he find it out andwarn them in time! It began to appear to the youth in the light ofa duty to pursue his investigation, and it was just such a task asbest appealed to his ardent and fiery temperament. 

But he scarce knew what the first step had better be; so he gave upthe day following to seeking out Lord Culverhouse, and learningfrom him what was the feeling in high quarters. 

Culverhouse greeted him warmly, and at once begged him to ride outwith him into the pleasant regions where the parks now stand, whichwere then much larger, and only just taking any semblance of park, being more like fields with rides running across them. Eachsucceeding king did something for the improvement of this region, though the open ground became considerably diminished as statelybuildings grew up around it. 

"Cuthbert, " said the Viscount, when they had left the busy streetsand were practically alone and out of earshot of any chance passersby, "dost thou know that the matter of our secret wedding is nowknown?"

"I heard so from Mistress Kate, who has been sent away from home indisgrace, but is bearing her captivity cheerfully, with my sisterfor her companion. "

Culverhouse was eager to hear everything Cuthbert could tell him, and was delighted that his lady love was happy in her honourablecaptivity. When he had asked every question he could think of, hewent on with his own side of the story. 

"There was a fine coil when Sir Richard brought the news, and I wasrated more soundly than I have been since I was a little lad andlost my father's best falcon through letting it loose when thefalconer was not by to whistle it back. There has been a mightytalking and arguing as to whether such wedlock as ours be lawful, and no man seems rightly to know. That we must be wed again in moreorderly fashion all agree, if we are to live together as man andwife; but none will dare to say that we may break the pledge wegave each to the other that day. My father talked at first ofmoving some high court to set us free; but my mother shook her headand said that vows so solemnly spoken before God and in His namemight never rightly be annulled by man. She was grieved and asangered as she knows how to be at our hot-headed rashness, andspoke to me words which hurt me more than my father's ratings. Yetshe holds steadfastly to this--that we are betrothed too firmly tobe parted; and what she holds she can generally make my fatherhold, for he thinks much of her piety and true discernment. "

"So that thou art out of thy trouble for the nonce?"

Culverhouse laughed and shrugged his shoulders. 

"I say not that, for they tell us it will be many years ere we canhope to be wed again in due form; and waiting is weary work. "

"And why should you wait?"

Culverhouse laughed again. 

"That is soon answered. My father has always told me that I mustwed a lady of wealth if I am to wed young. Our estates areencumbered. We have more state to keep up than we well know how tomanage. We have had troubles and losses even as the Trevlyns have. I have known this well. I cannot complain of my father. Nevertheless I chose my Kate without any dowry before all the worldbeside, and I am prepared to abide by my choice. But we shall haveto wait; we shall have to possess our souls in patience. They alltell us that; and I gainsay them not. I am young. I have friends inhigh places. I will win a name for myself, and a fortune too, eremy head be gray. Alas for the old days of chivalry, when men mightride forth to fame and glory, and win both that and wealth in a fewshort years! Those bright days are gone for ever. Still methinks Iwill conquer fate yet!"

Culverhouse looked as though fitted indeed for some career ofchivalrous daring. He and Cuthbert would gladly have ridden forthtogether upon some knightly quest; but the days for such things hadgone by, as both recognized with a sigh. Still there was brightnessin Cuthbert's eyes as he said:

"Mistress Kate will spend her Christmas at the Cross Way House, andI trow that others of the Trevlyns will do the like. If thou wiltbe one of the party there upon that day, I doubt not that therewill be a welcome for thee; and perchance thou wilt find then thatthy nuptials need not be so long postponed. A golden key may befound which will unlock many doors. "

Culverhouse looked quickly and eagerly at his companion, but couldask no more even had he wished, as they were at that moment joinedby two friends of his, young men about the Court, who at once beganto talk of the approaching opening of Parliament and the grand showthat would accompany the act. 

The King's love for fine dress, fine pageants, and fine shows, ofwhich he was the sun and centre (in his own opinion at least), waswell known by this time. These young sprigs of the nobility amusedthemselves by making game freely of his Majesty behind his back, ridiculing his vanity, mimicking his ungainly action, especiallyupon horseback (though he considered himself a most finished andaccomplished rider), and describing to Culverhouse the fine newrobes he had ordered for the occasion, and which were to surpass ingrandeur anything he had ever worn before. 

"Folks talked of the vanity of our good Queen Bess, and called hermighty extravagant; but beshrew me if she were half as vain orextravagant as our noble King Jamie! It is a marvel he cannot seehow ten-fold uglier he makes his ugly person by trapping himselfout in all such frippery and gorgeous apparel. "

So the young men chatted on in lightsome fashion, and Cuthbert, wholistened to every word, could not gather that the smallestuneasiness had penetrated the minds of those who moved in thesehigh places. Culverhouse talked with equal gaiety and security. Certainly he had no suspicion of coming ill. The mutterings ofdiscontent the seething of the troubled waters, the undefinedapprehensions of many of the classes of the people, were apparentlyunknown and unheeded here. All was sunshine and brightness in theregion of palaces. But if these youths had entertained any secretmisgivings, they would have discussed them freely together. 

Culverhouse kept Cuthbert to dinner, and he was kindly received bythe Earl's family. Lady Andover even remembered to ask afterCherry, and won Cuthbert's heart by so doing. She questioned him inprivate about the marriage in the church porch, of which he hadbeen witness, and plainly all he told her only went to strengthenher conviction that the matter had gone too far to admit of anydrawing back without some breach of faith that was akin tosacrilege. 

After the meal, which seemed stately and long to Cuthbert, Culverhouse asked him would he like to see the Houses ofParliament, where the King would shortly meet his Lords andCommons. Cuthbert eagerly assented, and the two youths spent sometime in wandering about the stately buildings, to which Culverhousecould obtain easy admittance; the Viscount explaining to hiscompanion where the King sat and where his immediate counsellors, to all of which Cuthbert listened with marked attention. 

There were several attendants and ushers within the building, andCulverhouse told him that orders had been given to keep strictwatch over the building both by night and day. 

"The King is not like our good Queen--Heaven rest her soul!" saidthe Viscount, laughing. "He does not trust his people. He is alwaysin fear of some mischance either through accident or design. Wellmay the great Shakespeare have said: 'Uneasy lies the head thatwears a crown!' Albeit the King would do better to have a littlemore courage. "

This was the first word Cuthbert had heard of any uneasiness inhigh quarters, and he asked with some eagerness:

"Meanest thou that the King fears some evil to himself at thistime?"

"No; I have heard naught of that. The country seems unwontedlyquiet. It is the fear which never leaves him--the fear that makeshim wear a doublet so thickly quilted that it would suffice to turnthe sharpest blade, even as a suit of chain mail. He is alwaysdreading assassination. That is why he wills such close watch to bekept, lest haply any evil-disposed person might find hiding withinthe walls and spring upon him unawares. Methinks it is an unkinglyfear, but there it be, and he carries it ever with him. The Queenhad none such--nor had she need; and as thou knowest, when once anassassin did approach her when she was alone in her garden, theglance of her eye kept him cowed and at bay till her gentlemencould hasten to her side. She was a Queen in very truth! I would wehad more of her like!"

Culverhouse spoke out aloud, careless of being overheard, for hewas but speaking the thoughts of the whole nation. Cuthbert echoedhis wish with all sincerity; and still looking round and about himwith keen interest, went through a certain mental calculation whichcaused him at last to ask:

"And what buildings lie around or beneath this?"

"I know not exactly how that may be. There is a house close besidethis where methinks I have heard that Master Thomas Percy dwells, the steward to my Lord of Northumberland. I know not what liesbeneath; it may be some sort of cellar. 

"Dost thou know, fellow, whether there be cellars beneath thisplace?"

Culverhouse spoke to a man-at-arms who appeared to be on dutythere, and who had for some moments been regarding Cuthbert withclose scrutiny, and had now drawn slowly near them. Cuthbert wasvaguely aware that the man's face was in some way familiar to him, but he had no recollection where he had seen him before. 

"Master Thomas Percy has rented the cellar beneath, where his coalsbe stored, " answered the man carelessly; and Cuthbert, who hadasked the question rather haphazard and without exactly knowingwhy, moved away to examine a piece of fine carving close at hand. 

Whilst he was doing this he knew that the man-at-arms askedCulverhouse a question, to which the latter gave ready reply, andhe heard the name of Trevlyn pass his lips. At the moment he heededthis little, but the remembrance came back to him later. 

As he passed out he noted that the man still continued to gazeafter him, as though wishful to read his face by heart. He wasstanding beside a companion warder then, pointing out, as itseemed, the visitor to the other fellow. Was it only fancy, or didCuthbert really hear the name of Father Urban pass in a whisperbetween them? Puzzled, and even a shade uneasy, he followedCulverhouse to the outer door, A flash of memory seemed then torecall to him the faces of these two men. Had he not seen themkeeping watch at the wharf for Father Urban that day so long ago?He was almost certain it had been so. But what of that? How couldthey possibly connect him with the fugitive priest?

It would soon be dusk now, so the comrades said adieu to each otherand went their several ways. Cuthbert had come as far as the Strandby boat, and had only to drop down and find it there; but somehowhe felt more disposed to linger about these solemn old buildings, and try to piece together the things he had seen and heard. 

Hardly knowing what he was doing, he wandered round the great piletill he came to the narrow entry he had once traversed, leading upfrom the river to the door of the house where he had seen Catesbyand his companions at their mysterious toil. The house looked darkas night now. Not a single gleam penetrated the gloom. Already thelast of the twilight had faded into night, but no ray of any kindshone from any of the casements. 

Cuthbert stood looking thoughtfully up at the house, hardly knowingwhy he did so, his fancy running riot in his excited brain andconjuring up all manner of fantastic visions, when suddenly andsilently the door opened. A gleam of light from behind showed inrelief the figure of a tall man muffled in a cloak, a soft felt hatbeing drawn over the brow and effectually concealing the features;but one glance sufficed to convince Cuthbert that this cloaked andmuffled individual was none other than the same tall dark man whohad produced the holy water blessed by the Pope and had had itsprinkled around the spot where those mysterious men were at workin Percy's house. Filled with a burning curiosity that rendered himimpervious to the thought of personal risk, Cuthbert first shrankinto a dark recess, and then with hushed and noiseless footfallfollowed the tall figure in its walk. 

The cloaked man walked quietly, but without any appearance of fear. He skirted round the great block of buildings of which the Housesof Parliament were composed, until he reached a door in the rear ofthat building, within a deep arch sunk a little way below the levelof the ground, and this door he opened, but closed it after him, and locked it on the inside. 

Unable to follow further, Cuthbert put his ear to the keyhole, andheard distinctly the sound of footsteps descending stone stairstill the sound changed to the unbarring of a lower door, and thenall was silence. 

Cuthbert looked keenly around him, and soon made out that thesesteps must certainly lead down to the cellar beneath the ParliamentHouses of which he had recently heard. That other cellar he hadvisited so many months before was close at hand--close to thesegreat buildings; and this tall dark man seemed to have somemysterious connection with both. 

What could it all mean? what did it mean? Cuthbert felt as thoughhe were on the eve of some strange discovery, but what thatdiscovery could be he could not guess. 

He was aroused from his reverie by the sound of approachingfootfalls along the roadway, and he hastily stood upright andwalked onwards to meet the advancing pedestrian. The man carried alight which he flashed in Cuthbert's face, and the youth saw thatit was one of the men-at-arms on guard over these buildings. 

"What are you doing here?" asked the man civilly, though inslightly peremptory fashion. 

"I did not know that this road was anything but public, " answeredCuthbert, with careless boldness. "I have walked in London streetsbefore now, no man interfering with me. "

"Have a care how and where you walk at night, " returned the man, passing by without further comment. "There be many perils abroad inthe streets--more than perchance you wot of. "

Cuthbert thanked him for the hint, and went on his way. He wouldhave liked well enough to linger till the tall man emerged again, but he saw that to do so would only excite suspicion. 

Although it was quite dark by this time, it was not really late;for it was the last day of October save one, and masses of heavycloud obscured the sky. Now and again a ray of moonlight glintedthrough these ragged masses, but for the rest it was profoundlydark in the narrow streets, and only a little lighter on the openriver. 

The tide was running in fast, with a strong cold easterly wind. Cuthbert saw that it would be hard work to row against it. 

"Better wait for the ebb; it will not be long in coming now, " hesaid to himself as he noted the height of the tide; and steppinginto his boat, he pulled idly out into midstream, as being a saferplace of waiting than the dark wharf, to find himself drifting upwith the strong current, which he did not care to try to stem. 

"Beware of the dark-flowing river!" spoke a voice within him;"beware of the black cellar!"

He started, for it almost seemed as though some one had spoken thewords in his ear, and a little thrill of fear ran through him. Butall was silent save for the wash of the current as it bore himrapidly onwards, and he knew that the voice was one in his ownhead. 

Upwards and upwards he drifted; was it by his own will, or not? Hedid not himself know, he could not have said. He only knew that aspell seemed upon him, that an intense desire had seized him tolook once again upon that lonely house beside the river bank. Hehad no wish to try to obtain entrance there. He felt that he wastreading the dark mazes of some unhallowed plot. But this verysuspicion only increased his burning curiosity; and surely therecould no harm come of one look at that dark and lonely place. 

No volition of his own was needed to carry him onwards; wind andtide did all that. He had merely to keep his place and steer hislittle bark up the wide river. He saw against the sky the greatpile of Westminster. He had drifted almost across the river by thattime. He was seated in the bow of the boat, just dipping an oarfrom time to time as it slipped along beneath the trees. And nowthe moon shone out for a few minutes clear and bright. It did notshine upon his own craft, gliding so stealthily beneath the baretrees that fringed the wall of the very house he had come to see;but it did gleam upon another wherry out in midstream, rowed by astrong man wrapped in a cloak, and directed straight for the samespot. Cuthbert started, and caught hold of a bough of a weepingwillow, bringing his boat to a standstill in a place where theshadow was blackest. He had no wish to be found in this strangeposition. He would remain hidden until this other boat had landedat the steps. He would be hidden well where he was. He had betterbe perfectly silent, and so remain. 

A sound of voices above his head warned him that he was not theonly watcher, and for a moment he feared that, silent as had beenhis movements, his presence had been discovered. But some one spokein anxious accents, and in that voice he recognized the clear andmellow tones of Robert Catesby. He was speaking in a low voice tosome companion. 

"If he comes not within a short while, I shall hold that all islost. I fear me we did wrong to send him. That letter--thatletter--that luckless letter! who can have been the writer?"

"Tresham, I fear me without doubt, albeit he denied it with suchsteadfast boldness. Would to heaven that fickle hound had neverbeen admitted to our counsels! That was thy doing, Catesby. "

"Ay, and terribly do I repent me of it, Winter. I upbraid myself asbitterly as any can upbraid me for the folly. But hark--listen! Ihear the plash of oars. See, there is a boat! It is he--it isFawkes! I know him by his height and his strong action. Heaven bepraised! All cannot yet be lost! Move upwards yet a few paces, andwe will speak to him here alone before we take him within doors tothe others. 

"Guido Fawkes! Good Guy, is that verily thou?"

"Verily and in truth, my masters. Has the time seemed long?"

"Terribly long. How foundest thou all?"

"All well--all as I left it weeks ago. There has been no soulwithin. Gunpowder, faggots, iron bars, and stones--all are asbefore; and above, the coal and faggots carefully concealing all. Why this anxiety and fear, Catesby? it was not wont to be so withthee. "

"No; but I have something of terrible import to reveal to thee, good Guy. And first I must ask thy pardon for thus exposing thee toperil as this day I did. I sent thee on this mission of inspection;but I ought first to have told thee that we are in fear andtrembling lest we have been betrayed!"

"Betrayed!" echoed Fawkes with a fierce oath, "and by whom?"

"That we know not. But some days since, my Lord Mounteagle receiveda mysterious warning bidding him absent himself from this meetingof Parliament, for that a blow should then be struck, no man seeingwho dealt it. Wherefore we fear--"

"Mounteagle!" cried Fawkes, interrupting fiercely; "then thetraitor is yon false hound Tresham!"

"So we all thought till we charged him with it, and had he blenchedor shrunk our daggers should have been buried in his heart!"answered Winter in low, fierce accents; "but he swore he knewnaught of it, and that with so bold a front and so open an air thatfor very doubt of his guilt we could not smite him. There may beother traitors in the camp. There was that lad thou, or thy fool ofa servant, Catesby, once brought amongst us. I liked it not then. He should not have been let go without solemn oath taken on pain ofdeath. Trevlyn, methinks, was the name. I hear he has been seen inLondon again of late. Why does he haunt us? what does he suspect?"

"Tush! thou art dreaming. Trevlyn! why, that is a good name, andthe lad knows nothing, and is, moreover, stanch. 

"Guido, thou hast not said that thou dost pardon us for sendingthee on so perilous an errand this day. "

"Thou needst not repent, Catesby. I should have adventured myselfthe same had I known all. I have sworn myself to this task, and Igo not back to mine own country till all be accomplished. "

Chapter 23: Peril For Trevlyn. 

Cuthbert stood at the door of the narrow house in Budge Row, seeking speech of the wise woman. 

It was a blustering night--the first night in November. The windhowled and shrieked round the corners of the streets; the rainpattered down and splashed the garments of the few pedestrians whohad braved the storm. It was but seven of the clock, yet Budge Rowwas dark and quiet as though midnight had settled down upon thecity. Scarce any gleams of light filtered through the cracks in theshutters, and only the sound of a distant watchman's cry broke thesilence of the night. 

Cuthbert had once before sought this house, but had knocked in vainfor admittance. Either the wise woman was from home, or else shehad no intention of receiving visitors. Since then his mind hadbeen engrossed by other matters, and he had not thought again ofJoanna's charge concerning Esther. But recent mysteriousoccurrences had made him desirous not only of telling her his owntale, but of seeking information from her; and here he stood in thewind and rain making request for admittance. 

Softly and silently the door swung open at last, and he saw beforehim the dark passage he had traversed a year before with Cherry, the dim light from above just guiding his steps as he moved. Thesame juggleries were repeated as on that occasion. The outer doorswung back and bolted itself behind him. The invisible lightwavered and flickered and showed him his way. The black catappeared ready to dispute his entrance into the room till he haddropped his coin into the box; and when he entered the dim placewhere the wise woman ensconced herself, he saw her as before, seated behind the lamp which shed its light upon him, but left herface in deep shadow. All was precisely as it had been upon a formeroccasion--all but his reception by the wise woman herself. 

That, however, was altogether different; for the moment she saw whoher visitor was, she rose suddenly from her chair and exclaimed inexcited tones:

"Cuthbert Trevlyn, why hast thou not come hither sooner?"

"I did, but could not find thee. "

She made an impatient exclamation. 

"And thou wert content not to find me, and came not again and yetagain! Foolish boy! Did not Joanna warn thee to seek me out andtell me all? I know well that she did. She is loyal and true. Andso, boy, the lost treasure is found, and is safe beneath the roofof that house which shelters the honoured heads of the Wyverns?"

"Yes, it is all there. "

The old woman flung up her arms with a gesture of triumph. 

"I knew it: I knew it I knew that the prophecy would fulfil itself, for all Miriam's spite and Long Robin's greed. Boy, thou hast donewell, thou hast done very well. But thou hast been more bold thansecret. Thou art suspected. Miriam has been here. She is raginglike a lioness robbed of her whelps. She loved yon fierce man whocalled himself Long Robin, yet was neither husband of hers, stillless her son, with a love more wild and fierce than thou wilt everunderstand. She vows that she will be revenged. She vows that theTrevlyns shall yet smart. She suspects not thee alone, but all whobear the name. Boy, boy, why didst thou not seek me earlier?"

Cuthbert made no response. He was looking in amaze at this oldwoman, who had now come forth from her nook behind the table, andwas speaking to him without any assumption of prophetic power, butas one anxious human creature to another. He saw in her a strangelikeness to old Miriam, and to the dark gipsy queen; but hemarvelled at the excitement she evinced, and the eager intensity ofher gaze. It was so different from her aspect when last he had seenher, so much more natural and full of human concern and anxiety. 

"I have looked for thee day by day. I said in my heart, surely thouwouldst come quickly. And now, in lieu of seeking safety andcounsel, thou hast been running blindly into those very perils ofwhich I warned thee long ago. As if it were not enough to haveTyrrel and all his crew, with old Miriam at their back, resolved tohunt thee down and wrest the treasure from thee!"

Cuthbert started and looked intently at her. 

"Miriam! Tyrrel! what can they know?"

"Miriam can piece together facts as well as I, " answered Esther inrapid tones; "and thou oughtest by this to know what power thatgives to those who possess the gift. In brief, I will tell theewhat I myself have learned from her and others. She missed LongRobin, waited for his return till despair took the place ofexpectation. She knew that one of two things had happened--eitherthat he had made off with the treasure, or that he had been done todeath in the forest by some secret foe. Burning with fear and fury, she caused search to be made. The grave was found where the bodylay. Rage filled the hearts of all the tribe, for the strange oldman was venerated and feared, albeit he was not greatly beloved;and as thou knowest, amongst our people an injury done to one isavenged by all. Thou hadst been seen in the forest, seen moving toand fro in mysterious fashion. Many had wondered what thy businesswas, but none had interfered; for thou wast known to be under theprotection of Joanna, and the word of the queen is sacred. But nowthat may serve no longer to protect thee. Miriam has declared aloudthat Robin was the keeper of the long-lost treasure, that he washoarding it up in some secret spot, ready to divide it amongst thewhole tribe when the moment should have come. In fervid words shedescribed the golden hoard--the hoard which I know well that evilman meant to make all his own when the time came that he mightescape from the jealous watch kept upon him by Miriam. He was butwaiting for her death, which may not be far distant, since she issubject to strange seizures of the heart which defy all our skillin curing. Then would he have fled, and taken all the treasure withhim. He would have shared the spoil with none, as Miriam wellknows. But she is using her power and her half knowledge of thesecret for her own ends, and one of those ends is--"

The old woman paused, looking straight at Cuthbert, who regardedher fixedly, and now asked in a low voice:

"Is what?"

"The destruction of the house of Trevlyn, root and branch. "

A gleam of angry defiance shone in his eyes. 

"Still that mad hatred? But why should we fear her? Let her do herworst!"

Esther raised a warning hand. 

"Peace, boy!" she said; "be not so full of recklessness and scorn. Miriam is an adversary not to be despised. Miriam is sworn to thetask of vengeance upon thy house. She will not let this fresh deedof thine pass without striving might and main to fulfil thatvengeance which thou hast now made void. "

"Made void?"

"Ay, by the finding of the treasure. She is assured that this iswhat thou hast done. She has persuaded Tyrrel and his band of it, and all are resolved to find it for themselves. She is acting withthe craftiness of her nature. She has persuaded them that all theTrevlyns are in the golden secret. Wherefore vengeance is notdirected against thee alone, but against all who bear thy name--SirRichard and his son, who are in this city now. "

Cuthbert drew his brows together in a frown. 

"They know naught of it, " he said hastily. 

"That may be; but they are Trevlyns, and that is enough for Miriam. It is not the gold she covets; it is vengeance upon all who bearthat name. She stirs the avarice and cupidity of others, that theymay do the work she wishes done. And she works in other dark ways, too. She has tools which few suspect, and she uses them for her ownends without scruple. And thou, foolish boy, blind and self willedas thou art, unheeding my warnings, hast played into her hands; andnow others as well as thyself may be brought into sore perilthrough thine own foolhardy recklessness. "

The old woman's eyes were gleaming brightly. They were fixed uponCuthbert with keen intensity. He felt himself change colour beneaththeir glance, and he answered with some uneasiness:

"What hast thou to chide me with? Wherein have I been guilty ofrecklessness that may be hurtful to others?"

"Did I not charge thee to beware the dark-flowing river; to avoidthe black cellar; to have no dealings with strange men; to have thecourage to say nay to what was asked of thee? Hast. Thou avoidedthese perils? No! thou hast been led on by thy reckless hardihoodand insensate curiosity. Hast thou said no to what has been askedof thee! No! thou hast ever done the things required of thee, making excuse to forget warnings and disobey those who havecounselled thee for thy good. And what has come of it? Verily, thatthe name of Trevlyn has been whispered amongst the names oftraitors suspected of foul crimes, and that thine own kindred nowstand in dire peril from thine own defiant hardihood. "

Cuthbert started and made a step forward. 

"Woman, what meanest thou?" he asked with breathless eagerness. "Iunderstand not the meaning of thy words. "

Esther continued to gaze at him with her bright keen eyes. 

"Understandest thou not that there be on foot at this very moment avile plot for the destruction at one blow of the King, the nobles, and the whole house of his Peers--a plot to blow them all into theair at the moment of their assembly upon the fifth day of thismonth?"

Cuthbert recoiled in horror. A sudden illumination came upon him. He put together chance words dropped, expressions used, things hehad seen as well as what he had heard, and his face grew pale withconflicting emotions and his extreme bewilderment. 

"What?" he gasped; "is that what it means? Is that the hideous deedto be done? Great Heavens protect us from such men, if it has cometo that!

"How knowest thou this thing?" he added, turning almost fiercelyupon the old woman, who was still regarding him steadily. "If it beas thou sayest, sure such a fearful secret would be held sacredfrom all. "

Esther smiled her strange smile. 

"Secrets known to many have a wondrous fashion of leaking out. And, moreover, the wise woman has means thou knowest naught of forlearning the things concealed from the world. Cuthbert Trevlyn, look back, search thy memory, and thou wilt surely know that I havespoken naught but the truth. If thou art not one of them, thouknowest their dark secrets; thou canst not deny it!"

Again he recoiled from her. 

"I know their secrets! I one of them! Woman, dost thou believe thisvile thing of me?

"No, I believe it not. I know that thou hast but let thyself be ledinto dire peril through that foolish, generous weakness of youthand thy Trevlyn blood, against which I have warned thee--and warnedthee in vain. But dost thou think thou canst despise the warningsof the wise woman and escape deadly peril? Cuthbert Trevlyn, listento me and heed me well. This thing is known--is known in highplaces. The King and his counsellors have had intelligence thereof. The deed of darkness will be frustrated, and heads will fallbeneath the axe of the executioner. Already whispers are goingabroad--already the guilty ones are watched and spied upon; andwith the guilty there are those suspected who know naught of thisvile deed. Shall I say more, or can thine own quick wits supply therest?"

Cuthbert had turned a little pale. His eyes were fixed upon thiswoman's face. 

"Tell me all, " he said hoarsely. "What dost thou mean by these darksayings?"

"I mean, " she answered, in clear low tones, "that there is perilfor Trevlyn in this thing. Thine own rashness, Miriam's spite andquickness of wit to avail herself of every trifling matter thatpasses, the presence in London of Sir Richard and his son at thistime, the old tradition surrounding the name of Trevlyn--all arehelping on the work; all are pointing in one direction. Rash boy, thou hast been seen with Father Urban in the streets--a Jesuit, aseminary priest, a man suspected of many plots and many daring actsof courage and cunning. Thou art suspected to have been concernedin his escape one dark and foggy night, when thou wert on the riverin thy wherry; and he must have been taken on board some suchcraft. Thou hast been seen with others who are suspected of beingmixed up in this business. Thou hast appeared within the city wallswhen they appeared; when they were absent thou wast absentlikewise. Thou wouldst not heed warnings when yet there was time;thou must now take double heed to thy steps--"

"Thou spokest of Sir Richard and his son but now, " cried Cuthbert, interrupting hastily. "For myself, I must take the consequences ofmy rashness. The fault is mine, and if harm comes to me I can bearit; but if others have been imperilled through me, I should neverforgive myself. Tell me plainly if this has been so; keep me not insuspense! How can one word be breathed against the loyalty of a manfaithful and true as Sir Richard, and a stanch Protestant to boot?"

The old woman shook her head meaningly. 

"A man's character and reputation and life may too easily bewhispered away in these evil times. But listen to me, CuthbertTrevlyn, and all may yet be well. Thou hast been noted, spied upon, observed. There be those who have seen thee in strange places andstrange company, and it behoves thee to look well to thyself. Butfor thy kinsmen, methinks that no whisper regarding them has as yetreached high quarters. As thou sayest, Sir Richard's loyalty isknown, and men will not easily believe such ill of him. Yet he werebest to be gone. Miriam is at work. Miriam has tools that even Iwot not of, and she hates the head of Trevlyn's house with a bitterand undying hatred. Let but this thing be known--as known it willbe to all the world in a few more days--and she will leave no stoneunturned to overwhelm him in the ruin that must then fall upon somany. Vengeance such as that would be dear to her heart. She wouldweave her web right skilfully to entrap his unsuspecting steps. Wherefore let him begone--let all who bear the name of Trevlynbegone, and that right speedily. Flight will not be thought flightnow; for this thing is as yet a profound secret, and thou must notbreathe a word that I have spoken to thee abroad, else thou mayestdo harm of which thou little reckest. Let him go speedily; and gothou likewise, and do not tarry. If thou wouldst undo the harm thyrashness has well-nigh brought to thy kinsfolk, carry them thiswarning, and make them listen. "

"That will I do right speedily, " answered Cuthbert, whose heart wasbeating high with excitement and agitation. "Did harm befall themthrough deed of mine, I should never forgive myself. "

"Go then, " answered Esther; "go, and be thou cautious and wary. Remember thou hast many foes, and that the hour of peril darkensover this land. Strange things will be heard and seen ere many dayshave passed. Take heed that thou be far away from hence ere the dayof reckoning comes. Take heed that Miriam's vow of vengeance be notaccomplished, and that the house of Trevlyn be drawn into thevortex!"

Cuthbert descended the stairs with uncertain steps, his mind in awhirl of conflicting feelings. He believed that Esther was sincerein her desire for the welfare of the house of Trevlyn. He trustedher, and he saw that she had in some way or another becomepossessed of information concerning himself of a very particularand intimate kind. This being so, it was easy to believe that shehad discovered other matters of hidden import; and he was quitedisposed to give her credit for dealings in magic and charms whichshould show her the things that were to be. 

The horror of the knowledge of this plot was upon him as he wentforth into the streets and felt the keen air and the cold raindashing in his face. He could not doubt the truth of Esther'swords. All he had seen and heard tallied too well with it to leavein his mind any room for doubt. A plot of some sort he had alwayssuspected--he would have been foolish indeed to have come to anyother conclusion; but a plot of such malignity and such diabolicalscope would never have presented itself to his mind. He found ithard to believe that such a terrible thing could be menaced againstthe King and the nobles of the land, many amongst whom must surelybe of the same faith as those conspirators who were plotting in thedark. 

And then the peril that menaced the Trevlyns--what of that?Cuthbert remembered the looks bent upon him a few days back by themen-at-arms in the Parliament House. He remembered the light of thesentry flashing in his face as he turned away from the door in atwhich the tall man they called Guido Fawkes had vanished but a fewmoments before. He knew that he had been observed more than oncewith some attention as he had stepped on board his wherry, or hadbrought it up to the mooring place. Could it be that he was reallywatched and suspected? It seemed like it, indeed. And what was moreserious still, his kinsmen were like to fall under suspicionthrough his rash disregard of warnings. 

For himself Cuthbert cared comparatively little--perhaps rather toolittle--for he possessed a strong dash of his father's stubbornnessof disposition; and in him the Trevlyn courage was intermingledwith a good deal of absolute rashness and hardihood; but thethought that Sir Richard and his family should suffer for his sakewas intolerable. That must at all cost be prevented. Surely hecould warn them and avert the danger. 

As the youth walked rapidly westward through the miry streets, hewas revolving the situation rapidly in his mind, and at last hereached a conclusion which he muttered aloud as he went. 

"That will be the best: I will to mine uncle and Philip and tellthem that. It will make them hasten away at once; but I will not gowith them. If I am suspected I must not be seen with them, nor seemto have dealings with them. If they leave town and I remain, nonewill suspect that I have warned them and sent them forth. To flywith them would at once raise such thoughts. Here must I remain, and let myself be seen abroad, so will they the better escapeMiriam's evil intent. Sir Richard has friends at Court. LordAndover and others will speak for him if need be. I doubt me much, he being quietly gone, whether any will dare to strive to bring hisname into disgrace. There be those to find who are the guilty ones. Sure they may let the innocent go free. As for me, I will not flee. I would fain see the end of this matter. And perchance I might evenwarn Master Robert Catesby of the peril that hangs over his head. Strange how so gentle and courteous a gentleman can sell himself toa work of such devilish wickedness!"

Divided betwixt horror of the deed and pity for the conspiratorswho had been practically discovered and frustrated in their evilwork, and who had doubtless persuaded themselves and been persuadedby their ghostly advisers that it was an act of virtue and justiceand right, Cuthbert walked on, wondering more and more at thestrange vagaries of human conscience, and at the extraordinary selfdelusion possible to the sons of the Romish faction. 

It was long since he had decided definitely and of resoluteconviction to cast in his lot with those who held the Reformedfaith; but had he ever had any secret doubts and leanings towardsthe faith in which he had been reared, the revelations of thatnight would have proved enough for him. He knew--none better--thatthis diabolic deed was planned and executed with the full consent, approbation, and blessing of the Romanist priests, and might evenbe known to the Pope himself. Sorrowful and indignant as Cuthberthad often been for the persecuted Romanists, and keenly as hissympathies would have been stirred had they risen in man-likefashion to claim liberty of conscience and fight boldly for thecause in which their hearts were bound up, he could regard a plotlike this with nothing but loathing and horror. He wondered thatmen could be found willing to sell themselves to such iniquity. Yethe knew, from what he had himself seen, that these were no merehirelings bought over with money to do this thing, but that theywere gentlemen, most of them of noble birth and large means, all ofthem actuated by motives of devotion and religious enthusiasm; andthat they did not prize their own lives or regard them as in anyway precious, but would gladly offer them up so that this thingmight be accomplished. 

Well, it was a mystery, and one that he could not fathom. He couldonly feel thankful that no compulsion lay upon him to make knownwhat he had seen and heard. His word had been pledged to Catesbyand Father Urban, and how to have broken it he knew not. But therewas no call for him even to think of this. It was not he who haddiscovered this strange plot. The knowledge of it was already withthe King and his ministers. The conspirators themselves were halfaware of this; Cuthbert well remembered the words of fearconcerning some letter spoken in the lonely garden at Lambeth but acouple of days back. 

How dared they, knowing so much, pursue their dark scheme? Theyouth shuddered as he marvelled at them. Did they believethemselves yet secure? What a fearful thing security such as thatmight become! Cuthbert longed to warn them, yet feared tointermeddle further in such a matter. And at least his firstbusiness lay in the warning he must instantly convey to SirRichard, and that without revealing more of the truth than wasabsolutely necessary. Cuthbert was worldly wise enough to be wellaware that the greatest protection his kinsmen could have againstsuspicion was absolute ignorance of the matter of which they stoodsuspected. 

Sir Richard was absent when Cuthbert asked for him, but his son wasat home, and the visitor was ushered into a room where Philip andCulverhouse were sitting together conversing by the glow of abright fire of sea coal. 

He was made very welcome by his cousin, and quickly plunged intothe matter in hand. 

"Philip, " he said, "I have come to ask whether the business thathas brought you to town is yet accomplished. "

"Yes, verily, " answered Philip, surprised. "We came to talk ofKate's rash marriage with Culverhouse there, and if it was such asmight safely be ignored. My Lord and Lady of Andover, however, hadadjudged that their son is too far pledged to draw back, and thatfor the sake of the lady's honour and happiness they must be heldto be solemnly betrothed. Their punishment will be the long waitingere they may truly wed; but Culverhouse means to tell all his talein the ears of the Prince of Wales, and he holds that the kindlyyouth will doubtless give him some post about his royal person thatmay be a stepping stone to further wealth and advancement. "

"My Lord Culverhouse need scarce do that, " said Cuthbert, speakingin short, abrupt sentences. "Let me tell my news in a few words. The lost treasure of Trevlyn is found. It is hidden in the CrossWay House, where Mistress Kate and my sister Petronella are at thismoment sheltering. It was thought the safest spot, for that thegipsies and the robbers of the road alike think kindly of theladies of the Wyvern family, and hold their abode sacred--"

Cuthbert was at this moment arrested by a storm of questions andeager exclamations, which he had some small trouble in answering orsetting aside. When he had so far satisfied his eager listeners asto be able to take up the thread of what he was saying, he went onin the same quick, abrupt fashion as before. 

"I thought the treasure safe when I hid it there; but I have had awarning this night from one who knows well the temper of the gipsyfolk. I hear that suspicion has been aroused in the tribe--thatthere is a resolve abroad to win it back. There is a man calledTyrrel, a notable highway robber, who has vowed to regain it forhimself and his men. If this be so, I fear me that even thesanctuary of the Wyvern House will not suffice. In that house thereare but women and a few old men--servants, little able to withstanda concerted attack. I have heard this news but tonight, and I havecome straight on to tell thee, Philip. If your business in Londonbe done, why shouldst not thou and thy father return forthwithhome, and abide awhile at the Cross Way House, to see what faresthere, and to protect the household should Tyrrel and his menattack? Methinks that they may stand in need of the presence ofkinsmen at such a time as that. I hear that ill is meant by thesefierce men to all who bear the name of Trevlyn. Two of the womenwithin those doors bear that name; wherefore--"

But Cuthbert had no need to complete his sentence; both young menhad started at once to their feet. 

"Kate in peril!" cried Culverhouse, between his shut teeth; "thenverily her husband must find his way to her side. "

"Petronella at the Cross Way House, exposed to alarm and attack!"cried Philip; "then must I be there to shelter and protect her. "

"We will forth this very night!" cried Culverhouse. "I will to thehouse and get ready my servants to accompany me. "

"I will make all preparation here!" echoed Philip, "and only awaitmy father's return. 

"Cuthbert, thinkest thou that they are in peril this very night?Speak; tell us all!"

"I trow not, " answered Cuthbert with some decision, knowing thathis object was well accomplished and that the Trevlyns would makeall speed to leave London, yet scarcely himself wishing them tohurry off in the night like fugitives in fear for themselves. "I amcertain sure that no immediate peril hangs over them, or I shouldhave been more urgently warned. I would not have you hasten thus. Itrow it would more alarm the ladies to be aroused by you in themiddle of the night than to see you come riding thither later inthe day on the morrow. Surely it would be better to wait for day. The night is black and tempestuous; it will be hard to find theroad. Tomorrow with the first of the sunlight you may well rideforth. "

Culverhouse and Philip both saw the soundness and reasonableness ofthis counsel, and knew that their respective fathers would bothconcur in this opinion, though their own impatience chafed at thedelay. 

"And thou--what wilt thou do thyself, Cuthbert?" asked Philip;"come with us to Cross Way House?"

Cuthbert hesitated a few moments, debating within himself what werebest. He had been warned on the one hand to flee the forest, on theother to flee the city. If his mysterious gipsy friends were right, for him there was peril in both places. But it certainly seemed tohim that his own presence and company would add to the perils ofhis kinsmen; and his decision was speedily taken. 

"I hope to join you there anon, " he said; "but I have something setmy heart upon seeing this grand pageant when his Majesty shall openhis Parliament on the fifth. Methinks I will stay for that, andthen perchance I will forth to the Cross Way House. "

He looked keenly at both his companions as he spoke, but neitherface wore the least look of any secret intelligence. He was certainthat no whisper of the plot had reached their ears. 

"Ay, do so, and come and tell us all, " said Culverhouse gaily. "Ihad thought to be there myself, but I must to my Kate's side. 

"Philip, thy father will be something loath to leave London erethat day. Thinkest thou that thou canst persuade him?"

"I trow I can, " answered Philip; and then they both turned onCuthbert, asking him for a more detailed account of his searchafter and his discovery of the lost treasure, hanging with eagerinterest on his words. 

It was late ere he left their lodgings, and the family at thebridge house had retired to rest. He found his way to his room; butlittle sleep visited his eyes that night, and the fitful dreamswhich came to him betwixt waking and sleeping seemed charged withominous warnings. 

Sir Richard Trevlyn heard his son's story in great surprise, but hehesitated not a moment as to the course of action they must pursue. 

"I would it had been brought to Trevlyn Chase. We have a householdof men there, and could well defy these rogues of the road. ButCross Way House has no such defences, and it is tenanted mainly byhelpless women, and we must lose no time in going to theirassistance. I have heard long since of this man--Tyrrel. He is anotable outlaw, and there is a price upon his head. The forest willbe well freed of him if we can overthrow him. He has owed hissafety again and again to his reckless riding and the alliance andgood fellowship he has with the forest gipsies. It is time thewhole brood were smoked out from their hiding places. They wantdestroying, root and branch!"

Sir Richard found it easier to remember that the treasure had beenstolen and hidden by the gipsy people than that it had beenrestored partly through the assistance of the woman Joanna, thequeen. However, there was little time for further talk. The nightwas already advanced, and on the morrow they were to make as earlya start as was practicable. 

Sir Richard had not many servants of his own, but Culverhouse couldbring a good dozen men with him. Unluckily the storm raged allthrough the earlier hours of the following day, and it was not tillnoon that a start could be made. However, the seventeen miles' ridecould be easily made before dark, although the roads were deep inmud, and travelling in the open country was both tedious and bad. 

The last of the scattered hamlets had been passed. The sun glowedred before them in an angry, lowering sky. Sir Richard and his sonand Lord Culverhouse paused on the brow of the ridge to look bothbefore and behind. They had in their impatience outridden theirservants, who, less well mounted, found some difficulty in spurringalong the deep mire of the ill-made roads. They could but just seethem on the horizon of the last ridge, coming onwards at an evenjog trot, which seemed the swiftest pace they aspired to. 

Before lay the long waste of forest--trees and heather intermixedin long stretches alternating one with the other. A good sevenmiles lay between them and their destination, and the sun wasalready nearing the horizon, and would soon dip behind it. 

"We must push on something faster, " said Culverhouse impatiently, "if we are to reach Cross Way House before dark. "

"We have already far outridden our men, " said Sir Richard, frowningslightly as he turned his head to look over his shoulder; "and thisis the worst part of the road before us. "

"But we are well mounted and well armed, " urged Culverhouse, "andif we wait for the men we shall lose the rest of the daylight. Surely if there be any footpads about, the fact that we arefollowed by so goodly a train will serve to scare them away. And wehave no valuables upon our persons. They will get cold steel andhot lead for their pains, an they venture to molest us, instead ofsilver or gold. "

"Very true, " said Philip, who was as eager as his cousin and enduedwith full share of Trevlyn courage and impetuosity; "we can neverwait till those sluggards have come up. The fault is not theirs:they are not so well mounted as ourselves. We shall never keep ourhorses to their pace, try we never so hard. "

"Forward then, and let us ride as fast as our steeds can carry us!"said Sir Richard with a smile; "for if we wait not for our men, thedaylight is our best friend. We are all familiar with the road, andour horses likewise. Forward! and all eyes keep a sharp lookout toleft and right. At least we will not be set upon unawares. "

Putting spurs to their horses very gladly, the younger men placedthemselves one on each side of Sir Richard, and the good horsessettled themselves to a steady hand gallop, which was the best andsurest pace for getting over those rough muddy roads. 

Three miles had been safely traversed. Absolute solitude andsilence seemed to reign throughout the woodland tracks. But thedarkest of the forest still lay ahead of them, and the red ball ofthe sun had just dipped behind the ridge in front. 

"It will be dark beneath the trees, " said Sir Richard; "have acare, lads, how you ride. 

"Philip, thine eyes are better than mine. Dost thou see aught thereto the right of the road, just beneath that great oak?"

Philip had seen already, and his answer was quickly spoken. 

"They be horsemen, " he said--"horsemen drawn up and, as it were, awaiting us. I fear me we shall not pass without molestation. Butmy counsel is not to pause, rather to gallop still on steadily, asthough we saw them not. But let us be ready; and if they dare tomolest us, let us with one accord discharge our pieces in theirfaces. That will disconcert them for a moment, and we may perchanceoutride them. We are but three miles and a half from Cross WayHouse. I trow we can make shift to reach its friendly shelter; andonce there we shall be safe. "

"It is useless to pause now, " answered Sir Richard, who was alwayscool and self possessed in moments of real peril. "Our men are amile behind, and to hesitate would be to lose all. A bold front isour greatest safeguard. We are all well skilled in the use of arms. Be watchful and vigilant, and make you sure that every shot andevery stroke will tell. We have need of all our strength, if we areattacked. But they may let us pass unmolested; they may guess thatour followers are behind. "

Culverhouse said nothing, but he set his teeth hard and his eyesflashed ominously. He had never tasted real warfare before, and itseemed to fire the blood in his veins and send it tingling throughhis body. Each rider so shifted his carbine that it could bereadily used at a moment's notice. 

And now they had reached the forest aisle. Their good horses, stillgalloping freely and easily, bore them rapidly onwards. They hadalmost reached that silent, motionless band awaiting them withsinister quietude. In another moment they would have passed them, when, on a sudden, a voice rang out clear and sharp through thestill air:

"Halt! stand! Stand, or we fire!"

"Ride on and fire!" said Sir Richard in calm tones; and the nextmoment the echoes were awakened by three sharp reports of firearmsand by a yell--three yells--of human rage and pain. A roar ofexecration and menace arose from twenty throats, and twenty bladesgleamed brightly in the gathering dusk. But already the riders hadpassed the little band, sweeping by before they were well aware ofit. And as they did so, they heard a voice exclaim, sharpened byrage and pain:

"It is they--it is our foes! I knew it--I knew it! Those are theTrevlyn brood that we were warned would pass--the false sire andhis son and nephew. After them, my men! Let them not escape yourvengeance! Take them, or slay them, but let them not escape! Theyhave the treasure. We will have them. The vengeance of the gipsytribe shall be consummated! They shall not make it void. They shallgive life for life--blood for blood!"

"They shall! they shall! They shall not escape us. We will beavenged, and the red gold shall be our reward!"

Sir Richard set his teeth as he heard these words, and dug hisspurs into the sides of his horse, causing the noble animal, whoseemed to share his master's knowledge of the deadly peril theywere in, to spring forward with redoubled speed. 

"We must save ourselves by flight; they are six to one!" he said inlow tones to his companions, who kept pace for pace at his side. "It will be a race for life; and if we are beaten, all we can do isto sell our lives as dearly as may be. It is not robbery alone, itis vengeance, the old grudge against the Trevlyns. But if we canbut make Cross Way House ere we are outridden, we may saveourselves yet. "

Chapter 24: Kate's Courage. 

Lady Humbert had left the Cross Way House for a three days' visitto a sick relative who had sent an urgent message to her. MistressDowsabel remained in charge of the house and its small establishment, lessened considerably by the removal of four of the men servants whohad attended their mistress on her journey. 

Mistress Dowsabel would gladly have accompanied her sister, for shewas always nervous and ill at ease in her absence, but she waswithheld by two considerations. In the first place, she wassuffering from what was then termed a rheum, which we should call abad cold in the head, so that the idea of a wet cold journey ofsome hours' duration was exceedingly unwelcome; in the second, itwas not thought seemly by either sister that the young girls, theirguests, should be left in the house without some guardian andprotector; and Mistress Dowsabel therefore decided to put her fearson one side and remain in charge. 

"And beside, what is there to fear?" Lady Humbert had said, in herdecisive and cheery fashion. "We are quiet and peaceable folks, andhave naught to dread either at home or abroad. I shall strive to bebut three nights absent; and our merry Kate will uphold thyspirits, sister, till my return. Thou wilt be better by thefireside than journeying in the saddle this tempestuous weather. "

This fact was self evident, and Mistress Dowsabel had no desire toleave the fireside. 

"I must e'en do the best I can without thee, sister, " she said. "Idoubt not my fears be foolish. I will strive that the girls be notaffected thereby. "

"I trow it would be no easy matter to teach them to Kate, " saidLady Humbert with a smile. "She has all the spirit of Wyvern andTrevlyn combined. She will be a stanch protector for thee, Dowsabel, if thou art troubled by strange noises in the wainscot, or by the barking of the dogs without. "

"Thou thinkest me a sad coward, sister; and so perchance I am, "said meek Mistress Dowsabel. "But if ever thou art absent from thehouse, I am beset by a thousand fears that assail me not at anyother time. My heart is heavy as lead within me now. "

But Lady Humbert could not delay her journey on that account. Shesaid something equivalent to "Fiddle dee dee!" and hastened forwardher preparations with her customary energy. Kate flitted about andchattered merrily to her, having won her way by that time to a verysoft spot in the heart of her ancient kinswoman. 

"I am glad to leave thee with thy aunt Dowsabel, child, " said LadyHumbert before she left. "Ellen will read to her and see to herpossets and her little fire-side comforts; but thou wilt assist herto overlook the household and servants, and cheer up her spiritsand her courage if either should flag. She is strangely timid whenI am not by. Thou must do what thou canst to keep away her fears. "

"Fears!" echoed Kate, laughing; "why, wherefore should we fear?"

"There is small cause, but Dowsabel is by nature timorous, and shewill lean on thee, child though thou art, when I am gone. There becertain charges I would lay upon thee. The men will be gone, allbut old Thomas within doors and Joshua without; wherefore I willask thee to go round the house thyself at dusk each eve, and seethat all bolts and bars be securely drawn. That is Andrew's work, but he will be with me. Dyson and thou hadst better go together--orthou and Cherry. Thou wilt not be afraid of such a task?"

"Afraid? marry no! Cherry and I will do it gladly. She is amerry-hearted lassie, and I like her well. Is there aught else, mylady aunt?"

Lady Humbert, standing beside the fire and drawing on her ridinggloves, looked into Kate's bright face with a thoughtful smile. 

"If I could trust thy discretion as I trust thy courage and sense, my giddy-pated maiden, there is one more charge I would lay uponthee. "

The light of laughter in Kate's eyes changed suddenly to somethingdeeper and graver. She came one step nearer and laid her hand onLady Humbert's arm. 

"Try me, " she said simply. "Methinks I am not so giddy as they deemme. I have thought, I have suffered, I have been forced to possessmy soul in patience. Try and see if I may not be trusted in thisthing. "

Lady Humbert gazed a moment into the clear eyes, and then said:

"I will try thee, child. It is no such heavy charge I would layupon thee, yet it is one that thy aunt Dowsabel would fear toundertake. She would fain close the doors of the Cross Way Houseagainst all strangers and wayfarers who come to them in the absenceof the mistress; but that is not my wish. Dost thou know, child, the name the Cross Way House has ever held with those who farethrough the forest tracks?"

"I have heard it spoken of as a place where none in need is everturned away, " answered Kate. 

"Ay, and so it was in those good old days when Wyverns held openhouse here, and were beloved from far and near. Alas! those goodold days are passed away; for our fortunes are fallen, and we haveno longer the power to entertain in such bounteous fashion. And yetI have striven, as thou hast doubtless seen, that the poor, theaged, the sick, and the needy are never turned from these doorswithout bite or sup to cheer their hearts and send them rejoicingon their way. Strange persons come to the house from time to time;but all are admitted to such good cheer as is ours to offer, andnever has my hospitality been abused. Fugitives from the robbers ofthe road have been admitted here; yet never has this lone housebeen attacked. Wounded robbers have sought shelter here, bleedingnigh to death, and their wounds have been dressed by these hands, and their lives saved through our ministrations. To the cry ofpoverty or distress the doors have ever opened, be the distressedone worthy or no. Never have we had cause to regret what we havedone for evil men or good. Never has our hospitality been repaid bytreachery or deceit. "

"And now?" asked Kate as Lady Humbert paused. 

"Now my timid sister would have the doors closed for the days thatI am absent and the men with me. She says she fears for thetreasure. She says there is more peril now than of old. She may beright; but I see not why the danger be greater, since none know thesecret save those who are pledged to keep it, and it goes againstme that the traditions of the house should be broken. Can I trustthee, Kate, to take my place in this? Wilt thou strive to still thyaunt's fears and keep watch over all who come and go, that ourdoors may still open to the poor, whilst no needless terrors beinflicted on the timid women who will be forced to keep guardalone?"

"I will gladly strive to do all I may, " answered Kate, who had beenLady Humbert's companion now long enough to know much of hermethods. 

"It may well be that none will come, " said Lady Humbert cheerfully, with a smile and a nod of approval. "These be ill days fortravellers, and in the winter season few pass this way. But such asdo seek shelter from the storm or from hunger or peril must not beturned away disappointed. Look to it, Kate. I trust that matter tothee. I shall ask thee for the account of thy stewardship on myreturn. "

And then the mistress of the house gathered her train together andset forth, riding her steady old horse as fearlessly as though shehad been fifty years younger, and nodding a brisk farewell allround as she turned out of the gate upon the highway so close athand. 

Mistress Dowsabel wept feebly for a short while, and seemeddisposed to start and tremble at every sound. But Petronella got abook and settled herself to read to her, whilst she forgot herfears in the intricacies of her well-beloved tapestry work. As forKate, she called to Cherry, and began to set about those householdduties which the mistress of the house had given into her charge, so that the timid invalid might be spared all trouble and anxiety. 

Cherry was a very happy girl in those days. Her position in thathousehold was slightly anomalous, and at first it had been a littledifficult to find the right niche for her. As the niece of Dyson, who had summoned her thither to act in the capacity of lady's maid, her place would by rights have been the servants' hall and kitchen;but then, as Kate had seen at once, it would scarce be right forCuthbert Trevlyn's future wife to take so lowly a station as thatof a serving wench. 

Cuthbert was no longer the impecunious son of Nicholas Trevlyn, dependent upon his own wit and energy for the place he might holdin the world. He was the finder of that vast hoard of losttreasure, which had proved so far more valuable than the mostsanguine hopes had pictured. By every rule of right and justice alarge share of this treasure should come to him. He would be a manof wealth and station; and it had been openly announced by thesesisters of the house of Wyvern that they intended to make him theirheir. They had taken a great liking to him. They had no nearkindred of their own. He was the grandson of one of the Wyverns, and a degree nearer them than the other Trevlyns, so they werequite resolved upon this step. 

So when Kate, with the courage and frankness inherent in hernature, had told the old ladies of Cuthbert's betrothal, Petronellaadding all she knew of the constancy of her brother's attachment toMartin Holt's daughter, Lady Humbert recognized in a moment that itwould not do to treat the girl as a mere dependent. She must beadmitted to some other position, and trained for that station inlife to which her marriage would entitle her. 

Lady Humbert had all the class exclusiveness of her race; but shewas a large-hearted woman to boot, and had an uncommon share ofcommon sense. She would have been glad had Cuthbert's choice fallenelsewhere; but as it had not done so, and as Cherry was as faithfulto him as he to her, there was only one thing to be done, and thatwas to make the best of the matter, and strive to see the best sideonly. The girl must be admitted to the position of companion toPetronella and Kate. She must be taught the refinements of life inanother station, and gradually fitted for the life that lay beforeher. 

It had been a great relief to find the girl so pretty, so gentle inher ways, so eager to please, so naturally dainty and particular. Cherry had quick apprehension and ready adaptability of nature. Shetook to the new ways like a duck to the water. She had a sweetvoice and a refined fashion of speaking. In a very short while shelooked as much at home in the presence of the ladies as Petronellaherself. Kate found indeed that the city-bred maiden was moreadvanced in many things than the recluse of the Gate House. She setherself busily to the task of drilling both her companions in thearts of dancing, deportment, the use of the globes, and of playingupon the harpsichord; and found in both apt and eager pupils. Bothgirls had much natural grace and a great desire to improvethemselves. Petronella was by nature dreamy and studious, whilstCherry was all life, brightness, and vivacity. She and Kategradually drew together, and would spend hours rambling in theextensive gardens and shrubberies behind the house, or riding out, with Andrew in attendance, through some of the forest tracks. 

Petronella, on the other hand, preferred remaining at home, readingto the elderly ladies, and being by them instructed in many mattersof political and religious import. Her mind was rapidly enlarging. She was unconsciously fitting herself daily more and more to bePhilip's wife; whilst their very differences seemed to draw thethree girls more closely together, and they felt by this time likesisters as well as companions. 

Lady Humbert's absence was a matter of some excitement to Kate andCherry, upon whom many small duties now devolved. 

The house certainly felt lonely with so many of its ordinaryinhabitants absent. The great empty rooms were kept strictlylocked. The gates in front of the house were likewise locked by dayas well as night, and only the small door at the back was to beopened until the return of the mistress. So the timid Dowsabel haddecreed; and she had directed that the keys of the outer doorsshould be brought to her; and by day they were laid in her sightupon the chimney ledge, whilst at night they were placed beneathher pillow. Kate made a wry face, but did not otherwise protest. Time was passing quietly by, and there seemed little probabilitythat their tranquillity would be disturbed. 

"I would fain wish for some small adventure in Lady Humbert'sabsence, just to show that she has not put her faith in us invain!" said Kate, as the girls sought their couch on the secondnight of the mistress's absence. "There has not been so much as abeggar to the gate. These storms of wind and rain seem to keep allwithin doors. "

"I fear me I am but a coward, " answered Petronella, "for I am gladwhen night follows day and there be naught to alarm us. Perchancesitting with our aunt Dowsabel so much, I learn somewhat of herfears from her. "

"A truce to fear!" cried Kate, as she unbound her hair and tossedthe heavy mane out of her eyes and over her shoulders. "Would thatwe lived in days when women might do and dare somewhat for thosethey loved, or for their country! I should love to have to holdthis house against a rabble of hooting foes!"

"So should not I, " answered Petronella. "I love not strife andwarfare; I am for quietude and peace, " and she smiled into Kate'sflushed face, whilst Cherry looked from one to the other, scarceknowing with which she sided. 

She had something of Kate's daring, and dearly admired it in her;but she shared in part Petronella's shrinking from strife anddanger, a shrinking that to Kate was inexplicable. 

The night came and went in quietness and peace. The day passedwithout any event. Kate paced impatiently up and down the big hallas the sun went down in red and gold, sullen and lowering as itneared the horizon, but shining to the last. She had not beenbeyond the limits of the garden since Lady Humbert had gone. Now itseemed as if a restless fit had come upon her, and grasping Cherryby the arm, she cried:

"Let us go into the long gallery overhead and dance--dance--dance!My feet are fairly aching for some exercise. Come thou and dancewith me. "

Kate's word was almost always law to Cherry, though she thought ita dreary place to select just at this hour of approaching darkness. Still, there would be a little light glimmering in through thatlong row of windows, and with Kate who would be afraid?

The key was in the door. The polished boards of the long ballroomlay gleaming with ghostly shimmer in the fading light. The pictureson the walls seemed to stare at the two intruders with colddispleasure. Cherry shivered slightly as the chill struck her. Itseemed to her as if these stately knights and dames themselves mustsurely come down from their frames at such an hour as this; andsilently disport themselves in this long gallery. She was glad tofeel Kate's arm about her as she commenced circling round and roundin her light and airy fashion. As the warm blood began tingling intheir veins the pace grew faster and faster, and Cherry'schilliness and fear alike left her. Up and down, round and round, flew the light girlish feet. The exercise was delightful to bothafter the inaction of two long days. Up and down, round and round, as though they would never tire; and as they danced the twilightchanged to night, and only glimmering moonbeams fell within the rowof windows, lighted the long gallery, and fell upon the flickeringfigures of the two girls. 

But their eyes had grown used to the darkness, and they heeded itnot. Cherry's thoughts had flown off to Cuthbert, Kate's toCulverhouse. The rapid exercise stimulated thought, and both heartsbeat high with the glowing hope of youth. When at last they paused, laughing and breathless, at the upper end of the long room, theireyes were shining brightly, there was a vivid colour in theirchecks. They only wished to gather breath and then on again. 

"It is hot--it is stifling!" cried Kate, as she threw back hertumbled hair. "I must have air--air! I will open this window; wecan look out such a way from it. O Cherry, think--this big windowlooks straight out towards London! Ah, why are not our eyes strongenough to see our loved ones there!"

Cherry laughed and blushed in the darkness, and Kate's strong handundid the bolt and latch and flung the great casement wide. Thecool night air rushed in, and both girls, heated with exercise, were glad to rest their elbows on the stone mullion and lean outinto the breezy night. 

"It is delicious!" cried Kate; "it is the elixir of life!"

Then the girls were silent for a few moments, till they bothstarted at the same sound. 

"That was a gun!" cried Kate suddenly, leaning further out of thewindow. "Listen, Cherry! There again--another shot! That can onlymean one thing!"

"What thing?" asked Cherry, growing suddenly pale with excitementand fear. 

"Highwaymen attacking travellers!" answered her companion, standingstraight up, but with her head still inclined in an attitude ofkeen attention. "Listen, Cherry, listen! Is it the beating of myheart, or is that sound the galloping of horses' hoofs upon theroad? Hark! Yes, they grow louder they come this way! Down, Cherry!We must rush to the gates and have them open and take them in!

"Cherry, listen! Be calm, be quiet! Run thou to old Thomas and toDyson and the rest; tell them what we have heard. I must for thekeys. I must have them whether our aunt wills it or no. There be noplace of refuge save this for miles around. Here must they findshelter from their foes. It is Lady Humbert's will; I must fulfilit. "

All the while Kate spoke she was running swiftly along the boardedfloor, with Cherry keeping pace at her side; and as she dashed downthe staircase she paused for a moment and took from the place wherethey hung two matchlocks, which she knew were always kept loaded, and these she laid quietly down in the hall. Then she opened theparlour door, and walked boldly forward to the spot where the keyslay. Possessing herself of these, she said quietly:

"Be not affrighted, Aunt Dowsabel, but there be folks in trouble onthe road. They are pursued by robbers, I fear. I am about to unlockthe gates, that we may draw them into safe shelter here. "

Petronella sprang to her feet, and Mistress Dowsabel uttered asharp scream of terror. 

"Kate, I forbid it--I forbid it!" she gasped. "The gates shall notbe unlocked! Dost hear, child? They shall not be unlocked! We shallhave the whole horde upon us, we poor unprotected women! Kate, comeback, come back! The keys are mine; I am mistress here! It shallnot be done! Girl, I will not be thus defied!"

But Kate was already half through the hall, where the terrifiedservants were mustering. She had seized up the matchlocks, and nowthrust one of them into old Thomas's shaking hands. 

"Take it!" she said, "and when I am gone lock and bolt the doorbehind me an your lady desires it. But I will not disobey my LadyHumbert, and she would have done as I do now. I go to the gate andI hold it open. I draw within its shelter the pursued, and I striveto close it against the pursuers. All within these walls will besafe. 

"Thy place is here, Thomas, beside thy mistress. She will die withterror if thou leave her. I am strong enough to unbar the gatesalone, and I have this weapon, which I know how to use. 

"Hark! there be cries along the road. The pursuit draws nigh. "

Kate flung open the great door and sprang out into the duskydarkness beyond, and Petronella and Cherry, casting one glance ateach other, caught up a gleaming weapon from the wall, where manyhung, and dashed out after her. 

"Shut and lock the door behind us, an you fear for yourselves!"cried Kate, as she led the way down the short flight of steps. 

"Girls!" she cried, turning her flushed and resolute face upon hercompanions, "we three will stand together for weal or woe thisnight. It may be that we shall save life. We can but lose our own, come what may. Are you ready to face the peril? for these gatesmust be unbarred. "

"We are ready, " answered both, as they stood beside her holding herweapon, whilst her strong young hands turned the ponderous key inthe lock and slipped back the heavy bolts. 

All this while the thundering thud of galloping horse hoofs wasapproaching nearer and nearer, mingling with the fierce vindictiveshouts of the pursuers, that sent thrills of terror through thehearts of two of the girls, but made Kate set her teeth together, and braced her nerves and muscles till they felt as if turned tosteel. 

"Girls, " she said, "listen! I open this gate--so, and stand herewith my weapon. As the pursued make for this house, as they mostsurely will, I shout to them as they near it to fling themselvesfrom their horses and rush in. If they understand, they will do so;but there may be delay. If the pursuers are close at hand, I shallfire at the foremost, and methinks I shall not miss. My hands willbe thus occupied. It must be your task to swing to and shut thegate behind the pursued. If any assailant strive to follow, strikehim down without mercy. Methinks a woman's arm can deal a hardblow! I trow mine could. But, above all, be it your task to guardthe gate. Is it understood?"

"It is!" answered both girls in a breath. 

They looked back at the house, so close behind them that it washard to feel afraid. The door stood ajar, and faces peered out intothe darkness; but Mistress Dowsabel's shrill voice was still heardwithin, and she was plainly hindering any of the servants fromgoing forth to the assistance of the brave girls without, terrifiedalmost out of her wits at what might occur. 

The high wall hid the road from the three who stood beside thegate, but the gasping breath of the horses could now be heard, whilst the fierce cries of pursuit had changed to an ominoussilence, as though not even a breath was to be wasted--every nervebeing strained to the effort of the chase. 

It was terrible to be able to see nothing. Petronella suddenly madea rush towards the wall, and finding foothold here and there in thechinks of the brick work, contrived to swing upwards her lightframe till she could look over the top. 

"There be three pursued, " she cried to those below; "and methinksthe hindermost is wounded, he sways so terribly in the saddle. Thepursuers are close behind; it seems well nigh as if they must comeup with them. 

"Oh, well done, good horses; oh, well done!

"Kate, they be close at hand; they are making for the gate as adove to its nest!"

Then Kate suddenly threw both doors wide and stood out in the dimmoonlight. 

"Fling yourselves from your horses, gentlemen, and come in!" shecried, in clear, penetrating tones. "There is shelter behind thesewalls. And the first man who dares to follow I shoot dead!"

Then as the foremost horseman obeyed her, flinging himself from thesaddle, and staggering rather than walking within the gates, ateither one of which stood one of the two girlish guardians, readyat a moment's notice to fling them together again, a quick sharpcry broke from Kate's lips, together with the one word:

"Father!"

The second horseman was now within the gates; the third was closebehind. But there was a yell as of triumph, and suddenly Kate'seyes flashed fire. There was the sharp report of a gun. The girlflung the smoking weapon in the face of a second assailant, anddragged within the gate the prostrate form of the third traveller. Cherry and Petronella banged to the iron portals in the very facesof the foremost assailants, who had recoiled for a moment beforeKate's blows, and drew the heavy bolts; whilst the shower of oathsand curses which arose from the rest of the band, who rode up atthat moment, showed how fully they recognized their defeat. 

Even the horses had escaped them; for the sagacious animals hadrecognized their locality, and had made for the yard door at theback, where Joshua had admitted them without delay, glad enough todo anything to assist the hardly-beset travellers in their hour ofneed. 

The travellers had sunk down just within the gates, so breathlessand exhausted that for the first few seconds they did not even knowhow and by whom their rescue had been effected. But the banging toof the gates, and the sullen murmurs of the highwaymen as they haddrawn off, recognizing their defeat, showed those within that forthe moment the peril was past. The doors were then thrown open;lights streamed forth into the darkness. Sir Richard Trevlyn roseto his feet, passing his hand across his brow, to find his sonpassionately embracing the dark-eyed Petronella, who clung to him, fairly sobbing in her excitement and wonder; whilst Kate kneltbeside the prostrate figure of Culverhouse, who lay with closedeyes almost like one dead. 

"Kate, my girl, is it to thee we owe our deliverance?"

"Father, is he dead--is he dead?"

The cry was so full of anguish that it went to the father's heart;and disregarding the shrill welcome and asseverations of MistressDowsabel, who had just recognized, to her immense relief, that theyhad admitted their own kinsmen to their doors, he bent over theViscount, and lifted him in his arms. 

"Dead! not a bit of it. Dead men do not ride as he did. But he waswounded in the arm, and has been losing blood fast, and doubtlessfainted the moment the strain was over. See, we will lay him hereon this settle beside the fire. Give him some wine, and bind upthat arm, my girl. Thou wilt choose to wait upon him thyself, Itrow. He will soon be able to thank thee for this timely rescue. Imust hear more of thy tale when I have spoken with thine aunt. "

All was confusion now in the house, but confusion of a pleasant andbustling kind. Joshua brought news that the highwaymen hadretreated in disappointment and dudgeon, but, true to theirprinciples, without any attempt at taking vengeance upon the CrossWay House. Sir Richard was striving to soothe the agitation of thetimid Dowsabel, and hearing of the absence of the mistress of thehouse; whilst servants hurried to and fro, setting the table forsupper, and vying with each other to provide comforts for the wearytravellers, who had been through so much peril and hard riding. 

Petronella sat beside Philip in a deep embrasure, and had eyes andears for him alone. Kate and Cherry, under the direction of Dyson, bound up Lord Culverhouse's arm, and soon had the satisfaction ofseeing the colour come back into his face, and his closed eyesslowly open. 

When they did this they dwelt for some moments upon Kate's face ina dreamy fashion, as though their owner thought himself still insome sort of a dream; but when she raised his head and put a cup tohis lips, he seemed to awake with a start, and after thirstilydraining the contents of the vessel, he caught her hand, exclaiming:

"Kate--my Kate!--is it truly thou?"

She gave a little cry of joy at hearing him speak in tones so likehis own. He pressed the hand he held, whilst she knelt beside himand whispered softly in his ear:

"It is I, indeed, thy little wife. O Culverhouse--and I thoughtthat thou hadst but come hither to die!"

There was a catch in her voice that told how great had been thestrain of the past minutes--greater than he could know just then. She found it hard to keep back the tears as she knelt beside him, listening whilst he whispered to her of all that had been saidabout that sudden marriage of theirs, and how that none would dareto call him free of his plighted word. 

"And so thou art in very truth my betrothed wife, sweet Kate, " hesaid, "and none may part us now. It was as I said when I bid theecome and plight thy troth. It was a pledge too solemn to be broken. My father and mother say so, and so does thy father. We may not beable to wed just yet; but if what I hear be true, sure our day ofwaiting need not be so very long. "

The colour had come back into her face now; her eyes were sparklingin their old fashion. She looked indeed the same "saucy Kate" thathe had known and loved ever since his early boyhood. 

There were steps behind them, and Sir Richard emerged from the roomwhere he had been holding counsel with Mistress Dowsabel. He lookedat the two beside the fireplace, and at that other pair in thewindow, both too much absorbed in each other to heed him; and witha smile upon his face he strode forward and laid his hand uponKate's shoulder. 

"And so, my headstrong daughter, it is to that strong will ofthine, and the reckless courage I have sometimes chidden, that weowe our lives and our safety today?" he said. 

Culverhouse looked up eagerly. 

"What sayest thou, sir?" he asked, whilst Kate's face crimsonedover from brow to chin. 

"Say, my lad? why, I say that but for this hardy wench of mine, who, instead of retreating behind the strong walls of the house, flung open with her own hands the iron gates to let us in, weshould by this time have been in sorry plight enow, had we not allbeen dead men. It was she who opened those gates when all elsefeared to do so--she who (aided by her two companions, whom sheinspired by her own courage) saved us from our foes. It was she whoshot down the foremost enemies, who would else have had thy life, Culverhouse, and with her own hands dragged thee, all unconsciousas thou wert, within these gates. 

"Wherefore, as to thee, boy, I owe my life (for that thou didstreceive in thine arm the charge that else would have dashed out mybrains), and that to her we both owe this timely rescue, methinksthat no wife nor daughter could do more, and that we must letbygones be bygones and wed you so soon as may be. I will give myfatherly blessing to you twain, for you are worthy of each other, and have proved it this night. And so soon as you can win thesanction of your good parents to your nuptials, Culverhouse, I willgive my saucy Kate to you without a doubt or a fear. "

Chapter 25: "On The Dark Flowing River. "

"That is our man! Seize him, bind him, and bring him before thechief!"

Cuthbert heard these words spoken in a clear low tone not far away;but the fog wreaths were hanging upon the river, and he could notsee the speakers. Instinctively he bent harder to his oar. Thewherry shot at redoubled speed through the dull, gleaming water;but there were sounds astern of other plashing oars, the sound ofvoices low yet eager, and Cuthbert felt sure he heard the name ofTrevlyn spoken in accents of subdued fierceness. He could hear bythe sound of the oars in the rowlocks that there were many rowersin the pursuing boat. That they were in pursuit of him he could notdoubt, and he set his teeth hard as he plied his oars, for he feltthat the issue of this chase might mean life or death to him. 

Esther's warning was ringing in his ears: "Beware the dark-flowingriver--the lone house--the black cellar!"

How had he regarded that warning? He had not heeded it at all. Hehad let his curiosity and love of adventure conquer both prudenceand caution; and now he was well aware that he was in someimmediate and imminent peril. 

He had been warned to fly from London, but he had not obeyed thatwarning. This had been partly out of generosity to his kinsmen, forit seemed to him that by his presence amongst them he might beincreasing the peril in which they stood, and he had been told thatthat was in great part due to his own rashness and hardihood. 

He had remained in London. This day was the very eve of that fifthof November on which the King's Parliament was to assemble instate. All the city was silent and tranquil. The vague sense ofexpectation and excitement that Cuthbert had observed amongst someof his acquaintances a few days back seemed now to have died down. Was it the hush that immediately precedes the breaking of the stormcloud; or had the fearful tale whispered to him by the wise womanbeen but the product of her weird fancy, and all his fears andterrors groundless?

This was the question which had been agitating Cuthbert during thepast two days; and upon this dim, foggy afternoon he had taken hiswherry and resolved to find out for himself the whole truth of thematter. 

Cuthbert had not forgotten Robert Catesby, or the priest to whom healways felt he owed his life. If any plot were in hand at thisjuncture, both these men were most certainly concerned in it. Andat the lone house at Lambeth he could surely get speech of Catesby, or learn where he was to be found; and it seemed to Cuthbert thathe could not sleep another night until he had set at rest thedoubts and fears crowding his mind. 

Did he go with a view of warning Catesby that the plot wasdiscovered--that the dark secret was out? He himself scarcely knew. He was not at all sure that he believed himself in the hideousmagnitude of the contemplated deed as Esther had described it. Remembering as he did all he had heard and seen, he could not doubtthat some secret plot was afoot, but he thought it highly probablethat the scope and purpose of it had been misunderstood; and therewas certainly this feeling in his mind, that a timely word ofwarning to those concerned might serve to avert a terrible doomfrom any who might lie already under suspicion. 

He had not been able to gain speech with Father Urban; for althoughhe was convinced the priest was in hiding within the house of theColes, both father and son resolutely denied this, and it seemed oflate as though they distrusted Cuthbert himself, and desired nomore of his company. 

Martin Holt and honest Jacob Dyson had warned him to be cautious inhis dealings with any of the Romish persuasion, and Cuthbert hadbeen content to take this advice. But this last afternoon beforethe great day so long anticipated might surely be put to some goodpurpose, and the thought that those men in that Lambeth house mightbe unwittingly remaining to be caught in a trap impelled Cuthbertto strive to have speech with Master Robert Catesby and put him onhis guard, if he could not persuade him to abandon whatever rashscheme he had in his head. 

Sympathy with the persecuted went some small way in blindingCuthbert's eyes to the terrible nature of the purposed crime. Moreover, he thought it like enough that Esther had heard a grosslyexaggerated account of what was determined. Still, what she hadheard others might have heard, and nothing was too bad to findcredit with those who planned and desired the ruin of all who heldviews different from their own. 

These and similar thoughts had been occupying Cuthbert's mind as hebent to his oars and propelled his light wherry upstream towardsthe lonely house. The tide was running out, and rowing was hardwork; but he was making progress steadily, and had no thought ofany personal peril until the sound of voices through the fog brokeupon his ear, and he realized that he himself was an object ofpursuit. 

Then the wise woman's warnings flashed across him with vividdistinctness. Had she not bidden him beware of just those perilswhich he seemed resolved to court? Why had he forgotten ordisregarded her words? Had they not proved words of wisdom againand again? And now here was he on the dark-flowing river alone, unarmed save for the dagger in his belt, and far from all chance ofhelp. 

Just behind was a boat in hot pursuit, and there were many rowersin that boat, as the sounds told him. If he could hear their oars, they could hear his. And though the twilight was creeping on, thefog seemed to be lifting. Only the vapour wreaths hid him from thegaze of his foes. If these were to be dispersed his last chance wasgone. 

The river was absolutely lonely and deserted at this time of yearand at this spot. Lower down, schooners and barges were moored. Near to the bridge he might have had some hope of being heard hadhe shouted aloud for aid; here there was no such hope. He was awayon the Lambeth side: there were no houses and no boats of any kind. His only chance lay in reaching the shore, springing to land, andtrusting to his fleetness to carry him into hiding. The lonelyhouse could not be far away. Perchance within its walls he mightfind a hiding place, or gain admittance within its doors. At leastthat was the only chance he had; and inspired by this thought hedrove his light wherry swiftly through the water, and felt the keelgrate against the bank almost before he was prepared for it. 

The pursuers were still coming on, but did not appear to bedistressing themselves. Probably they felt so secure of their preythat they could afford to be moderately cautious in the midst ofthese fog wreaths that made river travelling somewhat perilous. Cuthbert shipped his oars and sprang lightly ashore, leaving thewherry to its fate. Then he raced like a hunted hare along themargin of the river, and before five minutes had passed he hadscrambled up and leaped the wall of this lonely river-side house, and was crouching breathless and exhausted in a thick covert uponthe farther side, straining his ears for sounds of pursuit. 

These were not long in coming. He heard regular steps approachingthe wall, and a voice said:

"Here are the tracks. He got over here. Follow, and find him now. He is in a trap!"

"Am I indeed in a trap?" thought Cuthbert, setting his teeth hard;"that remains to be proved!"

And gliding out from the covert with that noiseless movement he hadlearned during his residence in the forest, he raced like averitable shadow in the direction of the house. 

He had reached the building rising black and grim against thedarkening sky; he had almost laid his hand upon the knocker, intending to make known his presence and his peril, and demandadmittance and speech with Master Robert Catesby, when forth fromthe shadows of the porch stepped a tall dark figure, and he felt ashiver of dismay run through him as a loaded pistol was levelled athis head. 

"It is the spy again--the spy I have sworn to sweep from our path. False Trevlyn, thine hour has come!"

A puff of smoke--a loud report. Cuthbert had flung up his hand toshield his face, for the barrel was aimed straight at his temple. He was conscious of a sudden stinging pain in his wrist. Amomentary giddiness seized him, and he stumbled and fell. Asardonic laugh seemed to ring in his ears. He thought he heard thebanging of a door and the drawing of heavy bolts. Probably the manwho had fired was so certain of his aim that he did not even pauseto see how the shot had told. 

"Your tongue will not wag again before the morrow!"

Those words seemed to be ringing in Cuthbert's ears, and then for amoment all was blackness and darkness, with a sense of distress andsuffocation and stabs of sudden pain. 

When he awoke from what he first thought had been a nightmaredream, he was puzzled indeed to know where he was, and for a whilebelieved that he was dreaming still, and that he should soon awaketo find himself in his little attic chamber in the bridge house. But as his senses gradually cleared themselves he became aware thathe was in no such safe or desirable spot. He was lying on somecloaks in the bow of a large boat, which was being rowed steadilyand silently up stream by four stalwart men. The daylight was gone, but so too was the fog, and the moon was shining down and giving asufficient light. In the stern of the boat sat two other men, whosefaces Cuthbert could dimly see, though their hats were drawn downover their brows. These faces did not seem entirely unfamiliar, yethe could not remember where it was he had seen them before. Hissenses were cloudy and confused. He felt giddy and exhausted. Hehad no disposition to try to move; but he soon found that even hadhe been so disposed he could have accomplished little. His feetwere bound together by a cord, and his right hand was bound up andutterly powerless. He remembered the shot levelled at him in thegarden of the river-side house, and felt certain that his wrist wasbroken. 

And who were these men who were carrying him away captive, and whatwas their motive? He imagined that they must surely be those fiercepursuers who had striven to capture him upon the river, and who hadfollowed him into the garden where he had hoped to hide himselffrom their malice. Doubtless they had found him as he lay in amomentary faint, and had borne him back to their boat; though whatwas their motive in thus capturing him, and whither they were nowtransporting him, he could not imagine. His mind was still confusedand weak. Esther's words of warning seemed to mingle with thegurgle of the water against the bows of the boat. His templesthrobbed, there was burning pain in his wounded arm; but the nightwind fanned his brow, and brought with it a certain sense ofrefreshment. 

Hitherto there had been unbroken silence in the boat, and therowers had steadily plied their oars without uttering a word; butnow that they were out in mid river, without the smallest fear ofpursuit, far away from sight or sound from the shore, they pausedas by common consent, and one of them suddenly said:

"Now, comrades, we must settle which it is to be. Are we to takehim to Miriam or to Tyrrel?"

Those words told Cuthbert who were his captors. He was in the handsof the gipsies or highwaymen--probably the prisoner of a mixed bandwho had joined together to effect his capture. As the discussionwent on it became more evident that there were two parties and twofactions, both anxious to possess his person, and he listened withbated breath and a beating heart to every word that passed. 

"I say to Miriam, " spoke up one swarthy fellow, with a backwardlook towards the prisoner in the bow. "Miriam is wild to have him. She is certain sure he has killed Long Robin. She would give hertwo eyes to have vengeance on some Trevlyn. Why not let her havethe boy, to do with as she will?"

"Because all she cares for is to burn him alive, as her old motherwas burnt by some Trevlyn long ago; and what good would that do tothe rest of us? Long Robin was no such friend to us. If Miriam'sstory be true, he was a treacherous fox, and deserved the fate hegot. If he it was who stole and hid the treasure, and kept thesecret all these years, hoping to enjoy the fruits of it alone, why, he was a knave and a villain, say I; and that old hag islittle better. What do we care for her vow of vengeance? what is itto us? Tyrrel, now, wants the prisoner for a purpose. This ladknows where the treasure is, and he must give up the secret to us. Once we know where he found it, and if moved where he has stowedit, we shall speedily be rich for the rest of our days. You allknow that the forest is getting something too hot for us. Tyrrelhas decreed that we must go elsewhere, where we are less known. Itwould be a thousand pities to go without this treasure, since itreally lies beneath our hand. A curse upon Long Robin, say I, forkeeping it hid all these years! It was a scurvy trick! and Miriamwas privy to it. I will raise no hand to help her. She may die withher vow unfulfilled for all I care. Had she but acted fairly by us, then would we have given yon lad up to her tender mercies; but notnow--not now!"

A murmur of assent ran through the whole party. The only one todemur was the first speaker. 

"The old woman got her death blow when Robin's corpse was found. She will not last many weeks more, they say. I should well like tobring her a bit of happiness at the end; and her one cry is forvengeance upon the Trevlyn brood. She would well like to have yonprisoner brought bound to her, Why not lead him first to Tyrrel andthen to Miriam?"

"When Tyrrel has him, he will decree what is done with him, notwe, " said another voice. "He has no love for Miriam and herinsensate hate. Miriam and Long Robin have both played us false;and Tyrrel loves the dark-eyed Joanna, and she will not stoop toany deed of cruelty or tyranny. He will have a care how he treatsthe boy over whom her mantle has once been thrown. But the secretof the gold he must and will have. We will not let him go withoutthat. "

"To Tyrrel then!" cried several voices with one accord. "I trow hewill have scant patience with any son of the house of Trevlyn, since he was so bested by those other Trevlyns but two shortevenings back. He will be glad enow to have this lad brought beforehim, for he verily feared that the whole brood had found shelterwithin the gates of the Cross Way House. "

Cuthbert listened eagerly to these last words, which told him thathis kinsmen at least had escaped peril and had found a safe shelterwhere the treasure lay. Knowing that this was so, and that thetreasure was under their safe keeping, even did these men throwaside the tradition of years and make a raid upon the home of theWyverns, his mind became somewhat calmed, although his own fate wasterribly uncertain, and he might have to pay the penalty of hisrashness with his life. 

The rowers bent to their oars once again when this knotty point hadbeen settled. They rowed on steadily for a short time, and then outof the darkness came a sharp clear hail. 

"Who goes there?"

"Friends. We have caught the quarry; we are bringing him toTyrrel. "

"Good. He has been waiting with impatience this two hours for news. His wound doth not make him the more patient. "

"We bring him at least the best medicine. 

"Easy, lads! Ship your oars. Catch hold of her prow, Toby. So herewe are safe and sound, and there is the prisoner!"

Cuthbert had raised his head, and supporting himself on his leftelbow was gazing about him from side to side. He was still in themiddle of the river; but the boat was now alongside a big bargemoored in midstream, and from this barge several lights weregleaming, whilst voices were answering and asking questions, andthe name of Tyrrel passed continually from mouth to mouth. 

Then the rowers in the bow came and lifted him bodily in theirarms, taking care not to be needlessly rough with the broken armthat gave him considerable pain; and so soon as he was placed uponthe barge, the rope that bound his feet was cut, somebody remarkingthat it was needless now to hobble him, since he was safely onboard and beneath the eye of the whole crew. 

"And where is Tyrrel?" asked several voices. 

"Below in the cabin, and waiting impatiently for news. Go, and takethe boy with you; the sight of him will be the best medicine forhim. "

Cuthbert was led along, dazed and bewildered, but calm from a senseof his own helplessness, and perhaps from bodily weakness, too. This weakness surprised him, for he did not know how much blood hehad lost, and he could not account for the way in which the lightsswam before his eyes and his steps reeled, as he was taken down adark ladder-like staircase and into a low long room with a swinginglamp suspended from the ceiling. It felt close and airless afterthe coldness of the night, and everything swam in a mist before hiseyes; but he heard a voice not altogether unfamiliar say inauthoritative accents: "Let him sit down, and give him a stoup ofwine;" and presently his vision cleared, and he found himselfsitting at one side of a rude table opposite the highway chieftainTyrrel, whose face he well remembered. They were surrounded by aring of stalwart men, some of whose faces were vaguely familiar tohim from having been seen at the old mill a year ago from now. 

He noted that Tyrrel's face was pale, and that his head wasbandaged. It was plain that he had received recent injuries, andapparently these did not smooth his temper. His face was dark andstern, and the eyes that looked straight at Cuthbert gleamedominously beneath their heavy brows. 

"Well, boy, " he said at length, seeing Cuthbert's gaze fasten uponhim with inquiry and recognition, "so we meet again. "

Cuthbert answered nothing. He did not intend to speak a needlessword. He had some inkling now of the motive for his capture, but hewas not going to show his hand. 

"Cuthbert Trevlyn, " said Tyrrel, in brief, terse sentences, "I havenot brought thee here to bandy words with thee; I will to the pointat once. I will tell thee why thou art here. Thou art in deadlyperil from without. There is a vile Popish plot but recentlydiscovered. The perpetrators and conspirators will all be seizedupon the morrow. Thou art held to be one of these. Thou wilt beseized amongst others. Innocent or guilty, it matters not. Thouwilt die the traitor's death--the hideous doom of those accused ofhigh treason. Thou wilt be lucky if thou art not racked first tomake thee confess what men hold (whether truly or falsely) thatthou knowest. I have interposed to save thee from that fate. I havehad thee pursued and brought hither to me. I can and I will savethee and hide thee till all pursuit is over. But thou must purchasemy protection at a price. "

Cuthbert listened as one in a dream. He knew that Tyrrel might bespeaking truth. He knew that he had received warnings beforetelling him he was suspected and watched. He recalled many pastmoments when he had felt that he had placed himself in a falseposition and might have laid himself open to misconstruction. Buthe had never thought himself in actual peril from the arm of thelaw. Was Tyrrel speaking the truth now, or was he only striving tointimidate him for his own ends?

Fixing his dark eyes full upon the face of the man opposite, heasked:

"And what is that price?"

"The secret of the Trevlyn treasure, " was the calm reply--"thesecret thou didst learn from Long Robin ere thou didst lay him inhis bloody grave, and which now thou holdest alone. Where is thetreasure, boy? Speak, and all will be well. For bethink thee, ifthou holdest thy peace I give thee up on the morrow to themyrmidons of the law, and the golden secret will perish with thee, none profiting thereby. Tell it but to me, and by that honour whichI have ever held sacred, thou shalt be released and placed in asecure hiding place till all hue and cry be past. Speak, then, forthy silence can aid none--least of all thyself. Tell the wholestory and guide us to the treasure, and all will be well. "

Cuthbert sat silent and motionless, turning the matter rapidly overin his mind. What should he do? Would it be a lasting disgrace toyield to thoughts of personal peril, and reveal all he knew? Thatrevelation would not place the treasure in Tyrrel's hands. He mightfear to assail the Cross Way House; and now that house might be sowell guarded that it could defy attack. 

Should he risk it? Should he tell all? For a moment he was halfdisposed to do so; but another thought followed, and the words werechecked ere they had reached his lips. 

What if further business had taken away Sir Richard and his sonfrom the lonely house? What if, in the tumult and alarm that thenews of such a plot would spread through the kingdom, the householdwithin those walls should be left unprotected by these kinsmen, whomight have occasion to make their way to their own home to see howit fared with those left there?

He knew the fearless character of Lady Humbert. She would neverkeep Sir Richard from his wife at a time of anxiety and possibleperil. They might already have left the Cross Way House for TrevlynChase (for Lady Humbert knew that the secret of the treasure laywith none but themselves, and would have no fears for that). And ifin the dead of night the whole force of the gipsy folk and thehighwaymen--or even these latter alone, if they could not get thegipsies to join with them--were to sweep down and attack thatsolitary house, what chance would its inmates have against them?None, absolutely none! The golden hoard would speedily be made awaywith; the treasure would be lost to Trevlyn for ever, and all thegolden hopes and dreams that had been centred upon it would bedispersed to the winds. 

Should he have it always on his mind that he had sold the secretfrom craven fear? Should he ever know peace of mind or self respectagain?

Never! he would die first. And surely since he had no dealings inthis plot, and was innocent of all thought of treason, no hurtcould come to him even were he given up. Surely he could prove hisinnocence, though with his head so confused as it now was he scarceknew how he should be able to parry and answer the questionsaddressed to him. Perchance some knowledge of his peril would reachthe ears of Lord Culverhouse, and he would come to his aid. Atleast he would not be coerced and threatened into betraying hissecret. Tyrrel might do his worst; he would defy him. 

He looked straight at the robber chief, who sat awaiting his replywith a cold smile of triumph on his face, and answered briefly:

"I shall tell you nothing. "

A gleam of anger shone in the man's eyes. 

"Have a care how thou answerest me. Remember that thy secret willperish with thee when thou goest to the traitor's death. "

"It will not, " answered Cuthbert coolly. "There be others of mykindred that know it. The treasure will be saved for Trevlyn, dowhat thou wilt with me. "

"I shall do as I have said, " answered Tyrrel, speaking very clearlyand distinctly. "My plans are all well laid. If within two hoursthou hast not altered thy mind, thou wilt be rowed ashore by mymen, bound hand and foot. Thou wilt then be given in custody tosome good friends of ours on shore, who lie not under suspicion aswe do. By them thou wilt be guarded till morning breaks, and thenall London will be ringing with the news of this foul plot, and menwill be ready to tear limb from limb all those who are so much assuspected to have had dealings with the false traitors who haveplanned all. Then wilt thou, Cuthbert Trevlyn, whose name hasalready been whispered abroad as one having cognizance of thismatter, be handed over to the tender mercies of the law. It will betold of thee how thou wast caught in the very garden of the housewhere these vile conspirators resort, and that thou didst fightlike a fury to save thyself from capture. Thy dealings with FatherUrban will be remembered against thee, and many another thingbeside. A traitor's death will be thine end; and thou wilt wish invain when those dark hours come upon thee thou hadst saved thyselfwhen yet there was time. I give thee two hours to bethink thee ofthese things. If thou wilt speak plainly, tell us all thou knowest, and help to place the treasure in our hands, we will save thee fromthe fate that awaits thee on shore. If not, we will give thee overto it; and then no power on earth can save thee. "

But Cuthbert's mind had already been made up, and he did not waver. He knew himself innocent of all complicity in the plot, and heclung to the hope that his innocence might be proved. In no casewould he purchase his freedom by a loss of self respect, by acowardly yielding up of that very treasure it had been the dream ofhis life to restore to the house of Trevlyn. Argument and menacewere alike thrown away upon him; and two hours later, bound handand foot, as Tyrrel had said, he was thrown roughly into the bottomof the wherry, and rowed downstream in dead silence, he knew notwhither. 

Chapter 26: Jacob's Devotion. 

"If thou wouldst save thy friend from a terrible fate, come hitherto me without delay. "

Jacob stood gazing at this scrap of parchment as one in a dream, his slow wits only taking in by degrees the meaning of themysterious words. 

"Thy friend, " he repeated slowly, "thy friend! What friend? I havemany. Terrible fate! Saints preserve us, what means that? Can it beCuthbert who is in peril--that rash Cuthbert, for ever diving intomatters he had far, far better let alone, and burning his fingersfor naught? Can it be of him it speaks? Belike it may. There havebeen ugly whispers abroad of late. Mine uncle told me only this daythat some constables came to his door asking some trivial questionsanent his household, and speaking of Cuthbert by name. It would belike his folly at such a moment to run his head into a noose. 

"But he shall not be hurt if I can help it. Who is this wise womanwho sends the message? Methinks I have heard Rachel speak of herere now. Well, I can but go visit her and hear what she would haveto say. I know the house in Budge Row; I took Rachel to the dooronce. For myself, I love not such hocus pocus; but if it be amatter of Cuthbert's safety, I will e'en go and listen to her tale. If she wants to filch money from me for foul purposes, she willfind she has come to the wrong man. I will pay for nothing till Ihave got my money's worth. "

It was already dark. Jacob had been partaking of one of MartinHolt's hospitable suppers. Cuthbert had been absent, and MistressSusan had remarked with some acrimony that the young man wasgrowing a deal too fine in his ways for them. He came and went justat pleasure; and she did not think it well to encourage him in hisidleness and irregularities. Martin opined that he had been amusinghimself by watching the preparations for the grand doings on themorrow. The King was in London, and would open his Parliament thenext day. Little was being talked of but that event all over Londonthat night. 

And now, on reaching his home, Jacob found this brief missiveawaiting him, and started forth again, wondering not a littlewhither it would lead him. The streets were almost empty. Budge Rowwas dark and silent as the grave. Yet as he looked up at the tallnarrow house, a window from above was softly opened, and a lowvoice over his head spoke in soft, urgent accents:

"Hist! make no sound. Wait but a moment. I will open to you. "

Jacob waited, and almost immediately the door was cautiouslyopened, and a head looked round, a pair of dark eyes peering upinto his face. 

"It is well, Jacob Dyson, thou hast come, " said the same voice, inthe lowest of low whispers. "But I may not speak with thee here. Thou must come with me elsewhere. Tyrrel's men are in this house, carousing in their cups. But they have ears like the wild things ofthe forest. I may not bring thee within the door. They think that Ibe gone to my chamber to sleep. They will seek me no more tonight. And before the morrow dawns our task must be accomplished. "

"And what is that task?" asked Jacob breathlessly. 

"To free Cuthbert Trevlyn from the bonds that hold him; to save himfrom the power of those who will, when the morning dawns; deliverhim up to the emissaries of the law as one who has taken part inthe vilest plot that has ever been conceived by heart of man!"

Jacob started, and faced his companion, who was hurrying him alongthe dark streets at a rapid pace. 

"Plot, woman! what dost thou mean?" he cried, alarmed anddistrustful, and yet impelled to let her lead him whither shewould, dominated by the power of her strong will. "I must know moreof this matter ere I go further. I have heard fell whispers erenow, but I know not what their truth be. I am a peaceable, law-abiding citizen. I mix myself not up in such doubtful matters. Speak plainly, and tell me what thou knowest, and what evil or harmthreatens Cuthbert Trevlyn, or I vow I will go no further withthee. I will not be made a tool of; I will not walk in the dark. "

He stopped short, and she did the same, still holding his arm in aclose clutch. They had reached one of the many city churches; thebig building loomed up before them dark and tall. The wise womandrew her companion within the shelter of the deep porch. Here theycould speak at will; none could overhear them now. 

"I will tell thee all in as few words as may be. Thou knowest me asthe wise woman of Budge Row; but once I was the queen of thewoodland, the queen of the gipsy tribes there, and I still holdsome power over the children of the forest. They still bring menews of all that passes there. Cuthbert Trevlyn has found the losttreasure, and in finding it has killed one of the tribe. Hatred andgreed have been alike stirred up. Many are bound together againsthim. If he cannot be snatched this night from the clutches intowhich he has let himself fall--oh, why would he not heed mywarnings?--nothing can avail to save him. 

"Listen, Jacob Dyson. Tyrrel, the notable highwayman, upon whosehead a price has long been set, has this night taken CuthbertTrevlyn prisoner, hoping to win from him the secret of the hiddentreasure which now lies in his keeping. Cuthbert has refused totell him aught; and now he purposes to strive to turn this to goodaccount for himself by delivering him up to the officers of the lawupon the morrow, as being concerned in a fearful plot that tomorrowwill make the ears of all England tingle. 

"Dost thou stare at that? hast thou indeed heard aught of it? Therehave been whispers abroad; but the matter hath been kept wondrousclose. Cuthbert Trevlyn has by his hardihood, his curiosity, andhis fidelity to friends, who are no true friends to him, placedhimself in jeopardy. He ought to be in hiding now; for if upon themorrow the name of Trevlyn gets noised abroad, there will be scantmercy shown him by the judges of this land. "

"Cuthbert a prisoner! Cuthbert delivered up to judgment!" criedJacob, aghast. "What meanest thou, woman? What hath he done?"

"He bath done no evil; but he hath shown himself imprudent andreckless. He has been seen in company he ought to have fled; he hasvisited places against which he was warned. Tyrrel knows this. Tyrrel knows how to turn to his advantage everything of likenature. Tyrrel will give him up at the moment when hue and cry isbeing made for all concerned in this matter. He will give him up, and men will bear witness where and how he was seized, where andhow he has been seen before this. Men's minds will be all aflamewith rage and fear. The wildest tale will obtain credence, andthere be nothing so wild in what they may truly say of CuthbertTrevlyn. The Tower gates will close upon him, and they will onlyopen to him when he is led forth to die. Have I not lived longenough to know that? If he he not saved tonight, nothing can availto save him afterwards. "

Jacob felt a strange thrill run through him at these words, "And why dost thou tell me this, of all men, woman? What can I doto save him?"

He saw that she had raised her face as if to strive to scan theexpression on his; but the darkness foiled her, neither could hesee aught but the gleam of her dark eyes. 

"I come to thee because time presses, and I know not where else toturn. Thou hast been his friend before; wilt thou play a friend'spart now, even if it be fraught with peril?"

Jacob paused a few seconds before replying, and then said simply, "What can I do?"

"I will tell thee, " answered Esther, speaking rapidly. "CuthbertTrevlyn lies bound in a house not far away. Tomorrow, so soon asthe news of the plot is noised abroad, and all is in commotion todiscover the conspirators, he will be delivered up to those who aresearching for these; and if thou knewest as much as I, thou wouldstknow that nothing then can save him. But there be yet twelve hoursbefore this can happen, and if he can be rescued within thosetwelve hours, and lodged with me in my house at Budge Row, I willundertake to hide him so well till all hue and cry be past and overthat none shall find him; and before the glad Yuletide season hascome to rejoice men's hearts, he shall be free to go where he willand show his face with the best of them. "

This and much more did the eager gipsy pour into Jacob's astonishedears as he stood in the shadow of the deep porch. Every detail ofthe capture was made known to him, the whole plot laid bare, as shehad heard it from the lips of the men who had borne Cuthbertashore, and had then been so cunningly plied with heating liquor bythe astute old woman that they had babbled freely of those verythings that Tyrrel would fain have had held secret as the grave, atleast for twenty-four hours longer. 

Jacob listened, and as he listened his mind was strangely stirred. Here was his rival in deadly peril of his life; and if Cuthbertwere once to be removed from his path, had not Cherry almostpromised, in time, to be his wife? And had he not done all he knewto warn Cuthbert from just those friendships and associations whichhad ended by placing him in this terrible peril? Could anythingmore be looked for from him? What did this strange woman think thathe could accomplish?

Cuthbert was truly his friend and comrade. He had proved it once byrisking his life to aid and abet him. But now what could he do? Andsurely in these perilous times, when all men knew they must walkwarily, it behoved him to take heed to his steps. 

"And what can I do?" he asked, as the woman paused. 

"Art thou willing to strive to save him at some peril to thyself?"

Jacob paused for a full minute. A host of tumultuous feelingsrushed and surged through his brain. A thousand conflictingimpulses swayed him as he revolved the situation with all therapidity of quickened thought. 

It was but a minute, yet it seemed like an hour to him before heplaced his hand upon that of the eager woman and answered steadily:

"I am willing. "

She clutched his hand and held it fast. 

"My heart did not deceive me. I knew that thou wert a true man. Jacob Dyson, listen to my words, and take good heed to them, and Iwill strive so to work that no harm shall befall thee, albeit I maynot deny that thou mayest stand in some jeopardy. Take and put onthis long cloak that I carry beneath my arm; wrap it well aboutthee, and turn up its collar that it hide well thy face. Pull thyhat down over thy eyes--so. And now take this ring and put it uponthy finger. I have told thee where Cuthbert Trevlyn is lodged thisnight. Go to the house and ask speech of Master Dibbler. When thouseest him, show him that ring, and tell him that Esther, the wisewoman, has sent thee with it, and that she desires him to let theehave a brief interview alone with his prisoner, who has somethingto say to thee for me of the utmost value to all. Show not thyface, show only the ring, and unless I be greatly deceived, he willtake thee to the prisoner forthwith, and lock thee up togetheralone. The rest thou canst almost divine. Thou must lose no time, but cut the cords that bind him, wrap him in this cloak--ye aremuch of a height--and so muffled he may well pass out in thedarkness unheeded. Thou must stay behind in the prison bound as hewas bound. In the morning thou wilt be given over to the officersof the law; for I misdoubt me much that Dibbler will ever find outthe trick that has been played upon him. He never saw CuthbertTrevlyn before, and I trow he has scarce observed what manner ofman he is. He will deliver thee up for one Cuthbert Trevlyn, takenin the act of fleeing to the house where the conspirators are knownto lodge. 

"But I trow that thy father's solid weight and Esther's acutenesscan soon serve to set thee at liberty. It will be an easy task toshow to all the world that thou art Jacob Dyson, a peaceablecitizen, and that thou hast been wrongly apprehended in the placeof another. Thou wilt be able to prove that at the hour men saythey found thee in that dark garden thou wast in thy father's orthine uncle's house. Thy captors will be confused, enraged, bewildered, and will have to explain how they come to be strivingto pass off Jacob Dyson as an evil doer. I trow well we can turnthe tables upon them. 

"Art thou willing to run some small peril for the sake of servingone who has called thee friend?"

And Jacob, with scarce a moment's pause, replied once again, "I amwilling. "

Next day, the morning of the fifth of November, 1605, dawned clearand still and bright. London was early astir; for was not the Kingto open his Parliament that day? and were not hundreds of loyalsubjects going to line the streets to see the procession pass? Ifthe King were not popular, the Prince of Wales, Prince Henry, was;and a sight was a sight to the simple folk of those days, even asit is still. 

But before long a curious change passed over the face of the Londonstreets. A breath--a whisper--a fleeting rumour. Men's faces grewsuddenly pale and grave. Women uttered sharp exclamations ofastonishment and fear. People pressed together into knots, askingquick questions and awaiting the answers in breathless expectancy;and presently the whispers became changed into open cries andshouts. A smothered roar as of execration and menace ran throughthe streets, being caught up and passed from mouth to mouth till itwas surging along like a great billow on the wide Atlantic sea. 

"A Popish plot!"

"Down with the Papists!"

"Blow up the whole of the Parliament Houses--King, Lords, andCommons!"

"Heard ye ever the like before?"

"Taken in the very act--with the barrels of gunpowder laid ready, and the slow match in his hand!"

"A curse upon all such vile traitors!"

"A curse upon the Papists!"

"England will never know peace till she has destroyed them root andbranch!"

"Down with the whole brood of them--the vile scum of a vile race!"

These and many like cries were passing through the crowd in great, gusty shouts. Martin Holt, standing at the door of his shop, wasjust taking in the sense of what was passing, and anxiouslyruminating upon the fact that Cuthbert had not been home all thenight, when Abraham Dyson came hurrying up, his face pale withapprehension. 

"Good Master Holt, hast thou heard the news?"

"That the Papists have tried to blow up the Parliament Houses? Cansuch a thing be true?"

"As true as daylight; there is no manner of doubt as to that. But Ihave another trouble than that, which has been happily averted. They tell me my boy has been arrested as one of the conspirators. Iam about to hasten down and inquire into it. 

"Martin, where is Cuthbert?"

"I have not seen him since yesterday noon. What of him? Has he--thefoolish, hot-headed boy--gone and run himself into like trouble?"

"I know not--I know naught of him; only methought they might betogether, being such friends and comrades. "

"They were not together yesterday. Jacob supped here with us, andknew naught of Cuthbert then. "

"Supped with you last night! that is good hearing, for men say hewas seen at Lambeth then, where the conspirators have some house orhiding place. Come thou with me, good Martin, I prithee. I musttake solid men to witness for my lad, and bring him safely homeagain. I warrant me he has had no dealings in yon foul plot! Hehates the very name of Popery and scheming. "

Martin Holt lost not a moment in following his friend, who wasjoined by several sober and wealthy merchants and citizens, alldeeply indignant at the insult received by their friend in thisfalse accusation of Jacob. 

Abraham Dyson had been warned by a letter of the peril in which hisson stood--a mysteriously-worded letter, but one that was evidentlywritten by a friend. It advised that Dyson and his friends shouldproceed at once to Westminster and Whitehall, where the excitementwould be at its height, and there they would find Jacob in custody, and would doubtless be able speedily to obtain his release, sincehe had been arrested under a misapprehension. 

Whoever had written these words had plainly known the truth; forwhen the city men had almost fought their way through a howling andwildly excited mob, they found Jacob, bound and guarded, being justled before some of the King's counsellors under the name ofCuthbert Trevlyn. 

"That man is not Cuthbert Trevlyn, " shouted old Abraham, forgettingall but the fact that he saw his son in dire and deadly peril. "This is a quiet and peaceable Protestant citizen. Here am I withfriends ready to testify the same. This is nothing but another vilePapist plot, conceived to strive to do to death good, peaceablecitizens of contrary faith, while they escape the doom theirtraitorous villainy deserves!"

This astute form of vindication roused another clamour from thecrowd. There was not the smallest difficulty in proving Jacob'sidentity, in establishing his innocence and obtaining his release. Those in authority saw at once that it was one of those innumerablecases of mistaken identity, and did not even care to waste timeover a close inquiry into circumstances; whilst the bystanders wereraving in indignant sympathy, perfectly convinced that it was allthe work of the conspirators themselves, to try to throw their ownguilt upon the innocent, and by no means sure that their own turnmight not come next. 

When Jacob was free, he turned to the King's counsellors and said:

"If it please you gentlemen to fall upon and make away with anotable band of outlaws and robbers, who have long made the terrorof the southern roads, they be all beneath your very handtoday--gathered together in an old barge not far above Lambeth, where they be waiting the issue of this day's work, knowing farmore about it than peaceable and well-minded men should do. Tyrrelis the name of the leader, and he and the best part of his bandwill hold high revel there this night. They will fall an easy preyin your hands if it please you to send and take them. "

The crowd shouted in delight. There was no love lost between thecitizens of London and those freebooters who made all travel soperilous, and the name of Tyrrel was widely known and widelyfeared. The counsellors conferred together awhile and asked manyquestions of Jacob, and then they released him with courteous wordsof regret, intimating that if good came of this hunt after theoutlaws he should not lose his reward. 

His father lost no time in getting him safely home, and questioninghim closely as to how he came to find himself in such apredicament; but all he answered was that he and Cuthbert had beenabout a good deal together, and that they had been mistaken for oneanother. As for Cuthbert, he was safe enough, but would remain inhiding for some few weeks. He was innocent of all complicity in theplot; but his carelessness had caused him to be suspected of someknowledge of it, and suspicion at a moment of popular frenzy wasalmost as fatal as actual guilt. When the real culprits had beendiscovered and had paid the penalty of their crime, smaller personswould be safe once more. Silence and obscurity were the safestshields for the present, and to no living soul did he reveal thesecret of Cuthbert's hiding place. 

London was soon ringing with the news of the death or capture ofthe plotters of the Gunpowder Treason, as it quickly began to becalled; and those interested in the matter heard with satisfactionthat Tyrrel and his band had been surprised, and all upon the bargehad been either apprehended or slain. Tyrrel had died sword inhand, as became a man of his calling, and the few who had escapedto their old haunts had warned their comrades there, who had fledthe south country forthwith, and were scattered no man knewwhither. 

Only to one person did Jacob presently tell the whole story of thatstrange night when he set out to rescue Cuthbert from dire peril, and that person was his cousin Keziah. The tale aroused her deepestinterest, and from that moment Jacob became to her a hero as wellas an idol. The honest youth had never been idolized before--neverin his wildest moments had he hoped to rise to the level of a hero;and there was something so wonderful in finding himself so regardedthat it began to have a softening and even an elevating effect uponhim, and to draw forth an answering admiration and love. 

The end of it was that before the Yuletide season had come, he wentblushing to Martin Holt to ask for the hand of his second daughterKeziah in marriage instead of that of Cherry, whose heart had fromthe first been given elsewhere; and it was arranged that themarriage should take place almost at once, for Jacob pleaded he hadwaited long enough for his wife, and Keziah's only wish was toplease her future lord and master. 

Chapter 27: Yuletide At The Cross Way House. 

Lady Humbert had got her own way--she generally did when her mindwas set upon a thing--and a large and merry party was assembledbeneath the hospitable roof of the Cross Way House to spend thefestive Yuletide there together. 

Sir Richard was not sorry just at this juncture to extend his visitto these kinswomen, whose known loyalty and adhesion to theProtestant cause had made the name of Wyvern respected and held inhigh repute even at the King's Court. It had been with equalsatisfaction that he had married his eldest daughter Cecilia to SirRobert Fortescue, and had allowed Lord Culverhouse openly toproclaim his betrothal with Kate. 

For strange things had been happening in the world of London sincethe discovery of that abortive Gunpowder Treason; and, in the firstpanic, the name of Trevlyn had freely been whispered abroad. SirRichard's friends had trembled for him, and had counselled him tokeep perfectly quiet and let the evil whisper die a natural deathif it would. 

For two long weeks the family at the Chase lived upon tenterhooks. Every day they feared to hear the approach of some messenger withtidings of woe. There was terror in many hearts when a loudexplosion in the middle of the night roused them all from theirbeds; but it was quickly seen that this explosion did notimmediately concern them, and that it must have proceeded from theold Gate House, which was already wrapped in flames. The servantshurried down to assist, but were too late. It was only many hourslater that the charred remains of what had once been two humanbeings were found amongst the smoking ruins. A whisper went abroadthat a certain well-known seminary priest, by name Father Urban, had fled from London, and had taken refuge with Nicholas Trevlyn. It was surmised that the two must have been preparing themselvesfor a siege, and that their ammunition had unexpectedly ignited andcaused the catastrophe. 

To say that any one deplored the fate of the gloomy old man, whowas supposed to be little better than a maniac, would be goingaltogether too far. Petronella shed a few tears, but they weretears rather of relief than of sorrow; while Sir Richard felt thathe could breathe more freely when his contumacious kinsman hadceased to live at his door. 

The whisper which had alarmed his friends died a natural death sosoon as the real facts connected with the plot came to be known, and the number and names of the true conspirators discovered. Indeed, further inquiry appeared to elicit the fact that CuthbertTrevlyn had been striving to unravel and expose the plot, and thathe had been shot down by one of the genuine plotters as a spy and afoe. As he had not since been seen or heard of, considerableanxiety was felt in some quarters for his safety. Sir Richard wascausing inquiries to be made in London. Cherry was beginning to goabout looking pale and hollow eyed. Lady Humbert, who alwayscheerily avowed that everything would come right in time, wassecretly not a little anxious, until a few days before the Yuletideseason, when she was called out into her own back regions tointerview a strange woman who was asking for her, and found herselfface to face with Joanna, the gipsy queen. 

For a moment she scarcely knew the woman again, for she had put offher distinctive dress, and was habited like a simple countrywoman. Her face, too, had lost its brilliant colouring, and her eyes weresofter than of yore. She told the astonished Lady Humbert that hermother Miriam was lately dead, that the tribe over whom she ruledhad been dispersed and scattered she knew not whither, and that shehad no wish to gather about her the remnants of the gipsy folk, whohad long been more disposed to consort with robbers and outlawsthan to submit to her sway. She was weary of the old life, anddesired something more tranquil. She asked if she could serve LadyHumbert in the capacity of dairy woman or laundress, and waspromptly answered in the affirmative. 

She then went on to whisper that first she must to London, and thatshe would bring back Cuthbert Trevlyn with her, and be with themagain on the Christmas Eve. More than this she would not say; butLady Humbert trusted her implicitly, and after that she went aboutthe house with a bright face and brisk step, laughed at Cherry'swistful looks, and declared that she would wait no longer for theabsentee, but on Christmas Eve would have up out of the strongroomall the treasure hidden there, and would hand it over to its lawfulowners, the Trevlyns--Sir Richard, as head of the house, being thefittest person now to have charge of it. 

There was a little murmur of remonstrance, Cuthbert's name beingmentioned. Was it fair to do anything till he returned? But somepersons began to fear he never would be seen again. All were deeplyinterested in the treasure; and Lady Humbert clinched the matter bydeclaring that her mind was made up, and that she would do as shehad said. 

What a wonderful sight it was as piece after piece of rich oldplate, some gold, some silver, all richly chased and embossed, wasbrought by the servants and placed by Lady Humbert's direction uponthe long tables in the old banqueting hall, now unused for half acentury! Breathless and wondering, the Trevlyns stood by watching, Sir Richard exclaiming in delighted recognition of various familyheirlooms he had often heard described, and which transcended eventhe fancies he had formed about them. And, besides the wonderfulplate, there were jewels and gold in abundance, small coffersfilled with golden coins and precious stones, sufficient for aking's ransom. 

Kate stood clinging to Culverhouse's arm, her eyes as bright asstars. It was to her the realization of a wonderful dream; and asshe gazed and gazed upon the sparkling hoard, which she knew wouldsmooth her own path in life and that of the lover of her choice, she glanced up at him with kindling glances to say:

"Nay, but what a splendid treasure! I never dreamed of aught likethis! But oh, it seems to spoil it all not to have Cuthbert! It washe who found it, when nearly all the rest of the world derided thehope of such a thing. Oh, why is he not here to be with us today?"

"Why not, indeed?"

A door at the far end of the room was thrown suddenly open. LadyHumbert, who had withdrawn herself for a few moments, came forwardsmiling and beaming, and behind her--who?

Petronella, who was standing at Philip's side, not far away, uttered a quick, sharp cry of rapture, and flung herself intoCuthbert's arms. 

"Cuthbert!" cried Kate, with a forward bound; and the next minuteCuthbert was surrounded by a crowd of eager questioners, and sobelaboured with greetings, inquiries, and congratulations that hehimself could not get in a word, but stood looking smilingly fromone to another till his eyes met the eager, wistful glance of apair of limpid blue ones, and with a quick cry of "Cherry!" heshook off the detaining clasp of all other hands, and went straightacross to the spot where she stood blushing, quivering, and hardlyable to believe the evidences of her senses. 

All made way for him smilingly, for the secret of his love was anopen one now, and Cherry had endeared herself to all the family byher gentleness and pretty, clinging ways. 

"Sweetheart, " he said, "I come to claim thee at last, and to claimthee with thy good father's ready consent and promised blessing. Cherry, it is to Jacob's devotion and generosity that we owe thishappiness, for he it was who saved my life, and might well haverisked his own to do so. But he thought not of that; he onlythought how he might serve me, and redeem a promise he had made tothee. And now he has his reward. He was wedded to thy sister ashort week back, being unwilling to wait longer. And he bids megive thee a brother's love and greeting, hoping that thou wilt finda place for a brother in thine heart, and wilt give to him asister's love. "

"Oh, that indeed I will! Good Jacob! kind Jacob!" cried Cherry, who, bewildered by this rush of happiness, scarce knew what shesaid or did; but it was enough that she had Cuthbert back againsafe and sound. 

To her the voices questioning and exclaiming and eagerly displayingto her lover the treasure he had never been able to examine and hadnever seen massed together, sounded like the murmur of troubledwaters. She stood with Cuthbert's hand in hers, gazing at him asone in a dream, and it was only when Lady Humbert took her hand andimprinted a kiss upon her cheek that she seemed suddenly to awakefrom her trance. 

"There, little one! I trow thou dost not half know what is in storefor thee! We shall lose our merry Kate, who must be transformedinto the Viscountess Culverhouse, instead of going home chastenedand repentant for her mad folly, as was once hoped, after herimprisonment here. And as for our quiet Petronella, she too is tofind a home of her own with Master Philip, whose share of thisgolden treasure will give him all he needs. But as for thee, littleone, Cross Way House will still be thy home; for Cuthbert will becontent to abide here with us so long as we live, and reign herewith thee after we are gone. 

"So thou wilt still be beneath the stern rule of an aunt, littleone. How wilt thou like that? But thou wilt have a husband toprotect thee, so that thou needest not fear too greatly. 

"Say, pretty child, art thou content with Cross Way House for ahome; or dost thou wish to seek for another?"

Cherry's answer was to put her arms timidly but lovingly about LadyHumbert's neck, as she answered, with a little sob of purehappiness:

"With Cuthbert I should be happy anywhere, and I love Cross WayHouse dearly. If you will have me, I will gladly stay and strive tobe a daughter to you and Mistress Dowsabel. It is all like somewonderful, beautiful dream. I never thought the lost treasure ofTrevlyn could bring such happiness with it!"

THE END.