The Birthright

CHAPTER XXV

HOW WE WENT TO PENNINGTON, AND HOW THE TRESIDDERS WON THE VICTORY

On looking over what I have just written, it has struck me that I have told this part of my story hastily, scarcely relating enough to tell how matters stood. I ought to have said that it took us fifteen hours to sail from St. Agnes Island to Hayle. Thus having left the island at daybreak – that is, about eight o'clock in the morning – we did not arrive at Hayle till the following midnight, and such was our difficulty in getting horses at Hayle, that we did not leave there until morning, thus arriving at Mullion just before noon. We were there, I should imagine, something over an hour, and as Porth Mullion is only some seven or eight miles from Kynance, I had hopes of getting to Captain Jack's house an hour or two before dark. I discovered, too, that Tamsin had ridden from Kynance to Mullion on horseback. She had, in a fit of jealousy, betrayed our secret to Israel Barnicoat, and this had led to Naomi being taken away; and anxious, so she said, to atone, she had come to Mullion to tell her story.

It may seem foolish in me to have trusted her again after she had once betrayed me, but I have always been one who yielded to the promptings of the heart rather than to the conclusions of reason, so I rode toward Kynance without demur, and even Mr. Penryn made no objection. Eli, however, grumbled greatly, and said we were going to a nest of adders; but indeed our horses were useless, and I knew not how we could get fresh ones, except through Tamsin's offer of money.

There was no sign of life at Captain Jack's house when we came to it, so I concluded that he had not yet returned from the Scilly Isles. I was very thankful for this, because I knew his presence would mean great danger to me. He fancied that I was dead, and but for the mercy of God I should have been – murdered, as it were, by his hand, and by that of Israel Barnicoat. I knew he was as cunning as Satan himself, and when he found out that I was alive would, I believed, stop at no means to end my life. And thus nothing but sore necessity would have taken me to Kynance at that time. But as Mr. Penryn had said, the horses we rode, which were but little better than farm beasts, were sore spent with a ride of twenty miles or so, and as it was fully fifty to Padstow – nay, nearer sixty, taking into consideration the nature of the road – it was useless to think of trying to ride them thither.

"This way, Jasper," cried Tamsin; "this way to father's chest. No one knows where it is but him and me. Oh, you do forgive me, don't you? I did it because I wanted you so! You believe me, don't you, Jasper?" and the poor girl sobbed piteously.

I did not speak, for my heart felt very bitter, even though I thought she was trying to atone for what she had done.

She had led me to a little outhouse, cunningly hidden among the rocks, and which could not be reached save by going through the kitchen, owing to a precipice behind. Arrived here she opened a box, and took from it a bag heavy with gold.

"Here's money enough, Jasper," she said eagerly. "Oh, Jasper, if you only knew!"

"Knew what, Tamsin?" I said, for the girl's sorrow made me gentle toward her, even although my heart was torn with anxiety about Naomi.

"Knew how hard it is," she cried. "Oh, Jasper, are you sure you love that maid so? She does not care for you as I do. Could you not think of me and forget her?" and the girl held my hand tightly in hers.

Now I am, and always shall be awkward in my ways toward women. A woman's tears always unman me, and make me soft-hearted. So I knew not what to say to her, and for the life of me I could not be angry. In the providence of God all men love all women, only there must be one especially to stir the depths of each man's heart. And, verily, had not mine heart been taken captive, I should have taken Tamsin in my arms and kissed her, so piteous was her cry, and so full of love was the light which shone from her eyes.

"Look you, Tamsin," I said, "I cannot help it, but that maid hath taken all my love. But for her I might have been different; now I can only love you as a brother should love a sister."

Then her eyes became hard, and I knew I had spoken wrongly.

"I must go now," I continued, "for she is in danger; and if we ride not hard, I may not see her again."

"Yes, go," she said with an angry laugh; "overtake her, rescue her, if you can."

This aroused my suspicions. "Tamsin," I said, "have you told me truly? Are these men taking her to Padstow? I am trusting you implicitly. It is hard for a man to threaten a woman, but if you have told me wrongly, may God have mercy upon you, for I will not."

"I have spoken the truth, Jasper; only be careful to inquire at Penryn if the Golden Cross has been seen in the harbour. I know they talked about it being there. If it has been seen, they have gone on to Padstow."

"How do you know?"

"I heard the priest say so," said Tamsin. "He said if the Golden Cross is lying at Penryn, we can get to Bristol without going to Padstow; if it isn't, we ride to Padstow."

"You swear this, Tamsin? My heart is very sore," I cried.

"Yes; this is truth, Jasper, this is what they said;" but she did not look me in the face as she spoke.

I pushed the bag of money in my pocket and turned to go, but she caught my arm again.

"Won't you kiss me, Jasper?" she said, "just to show you forgive me. Just kiss me once; it will be the only time in this world."

So I kissed her as a brother might kiss a sister, and not as a lover kisses a maid. This I swear by my love for the only maid I ever loved, and by my faith as a Christian man. But she clung to me, and would not let me go, and even as she did so I heard the sound of many voices in the house adjoining, and then Captain Jack and Israel Barnicoat came to the little hut in which we were.

"Jasper Pennington!" they both cried together with terrible oaths, and then both of them sprang upon me. I had thrown off Tamsin as I heard their cry, and so in a degree was able to defend myself; at the same time I was greatly at a disadvantage, so much so that they mastered me, and held me so that I could not put forth my strength. Then I saw Israel Barnicoat lift a knife to strike me, and for the life of me I could make no defence, and could only hold my breath and await his blow.

It fell, but not on me, for Tamsin had thrown herself between us and had received it.

"My God," cried Israel, "I have killed Tamsin!" and the thought so frightened them both that they loosened their hold on me, and so in a moment I was free. I knew, too, at that moment that few men are loved as Tamsin loved me, for she herself had voluntarily received the blow that would perchance have killed me.

But so great was their evident hatred for me, that for the moment neither took notice of Tamsin, but sprung upon me again. This time, however, I was ready for them, so I met Israel with a blow so heavy that he fell to the floor like a log of wood. I would have spared Captain Jack if I could, for he was past his prime, but he came upon me so savagely that I dared not.

"Go, Jasper, go!" gasped Tamsin. "They will kill you. Don't wait; go, only – "

"Are you much hurt, Tamsin?" I said. "Tell me if I can help you."

"No, no; you cannot help me. Go – go to Pennington; go to Pennington!"

"Why?" I cried; "you said Penryn."

"Pennington!" she repeated. "Go at once."

I grieved at leaving her there, but it seemed my duty; besides, I could not help her.

So I went to her. "Good-bye, Tamsin; I will send Betsy Fraddam to you. She knows more than any doctor. Good-bye. You have told me the truth this time. God bless you; you have saved my life."

"Forgive my telling you lies. Oh, I wanted you so, but I think I am dying now. Go quickly to Pennington, and forgive me, Jasper."

I left her then, much bewildered and troubled, for I felt it hard to leave her there without knowing whether she would live or die, and remembering all the time that if she died, she died for love of me.

When I got to the front of the house I found Mr. Penryn and Eli in the custody of Billy Coad and another man, but they let them free as I came. Then I told Billy to go to a doctor who lived at Lizard Town.

I told Mr. Penryn many of the things which I have here written down, and then we rode rapidly away toward Pennington, Eli also coming with us.

"Eli, are you afraid of Captain Jack's gang?" I said presently.

"No, I be'ant."

"Would they hurt you?"

"No, they wudden; not waun ov 'em."

"Then go to Lizard Town yourself, and take the doctor to Tamsin, then come back to your mother's house and tell me how Tamsin is."

"No," said Naomi's father; "you will come to Pennington and ask for him there." This he said looking at me steadily.

"You do not know Richard Tresidder," I said.

"He will have me to deal with," he said quietly. "Jasper, that girl told you the truth at the last. My child is taken there."

"I believe she is," I replied.

"I have felt it might be so all the day," he continued, "only the girl seemed so sincere. Truly the heart of a woman is a strange thing."

Then we both fell to silence as we rode along, for I had much to think about, and so, indeed, had he. At the time I did not think how eager he must be to see his daughter, so filled was my own heart with longing, but as I look back now I feel how little I understood his heart at that time.

Just as daylight was dying we arrived at Pennington Gates. I must confess to a strange feeling as I rode through them, for many things had happened since I last rode to Pennington. Then I had come from Kynance, and then, too, I had come to see my love.

"I will go first, Jasper," said Naomi's father quickly. "I would we were more presentable, but up to a few days ago I had no hope of – but never mind that. Our errand must explain the nature of our attire. You stand behind me, and the servant may admit us."

He seemed to have forgotten all about the past, and spoke as though he had a right to enter the house from which my father had been ejected.

On coming to the door I could hear that something of importance was going on within. I heard the noise of many footsteps and the sound of many voices. When the servant came to the door he did not seem to regard us with surprise; nay, rather, he seemed to expect us. I afterward discovered that he mistook us for some one else. The day had now nearly gone, and thus in the shades of evening he did not see who we were.

"Will you come this way?" he said. "Mr. Tresidder is in the library, and is expecting you."

Had I been alone I should have acted foolishly, so great was my surprise at his words. But Mr. Penryn saw in a moment how things stood.

"Is she safe?" he asked the servant in a whisper, which I thought a very foolish question, but a second later I saw how wise it was.

"The escaped nun?" said the man. "Yes, sir. She was carried from the carriage to the snuggery. She's there now."

"Is she ill?"

"No, sir. She's kept quiet, that is all, sir."

"Thank you. Take us to your master."

The servant led the way without a word, and a few seconds later we stood in the library, the servant closing the door behind us.

There were six people in the room. Richard Tresidder's mother was there, the woman whom my grandfather had married, and who had been the cause of all our trouble. She was an old woman, but evidently strong and agile. I could not help noticing even then how brightly her eyes shone, and how grimly her lips were pressed together. Richard Tresidder was there, too, looking, I thought, much worried and careworn, while young Nick stood by his side, his face very pale, and his arm in a sling. The other three men I did not know, although I fancied I had seen one of them before. Richard Tresidder turned to us as if to tell us something, then seeing me, he cried out angrily, and with great astonishment.

Now, not until that moment did I realise that we had come into a place of danger. Instinctively I measured the men who stood before us. Leaving out Nick Tresidder, we were but two to four, besides which we were in the house of a man who had servants to do his bidding. Still I feared nothing; nay, rather a great joy came into my heart that at last I should meet the Tresidders in this way face to face.

"Jasper Pennington!" cried Richard Tresidder, and then both Nick and his grandmother started up as though they had been attacked by a great evil.

"And John Penryn." This Naomi's father said.

"What?"

"John Penryn. Do you remember me, Dick Tresidder?"

"No, no. John Penryn committed suicide. He killed his wife and committed suicide." It was my grandfather's second wife who spoke.

"He did not kill his wife, he did not commit suicide," replied John Penryn quietly. "True, I struck my wife in a fit of madness. Of the provocation I will say nothing. I thought I had killed her, and then, like a coward, I ran away from my home, afraid to face what would follow. But in the mercy of God I did not kill her. In the mercy of God, too, a child was born to us; and you became her guardian, Richard Tresidder. Where is she now?"

For a moment silence fell upon the company. All awaited the outcome of the strange scene. I watched Richard Tresidder's face, and saw how frightened he was. I was sure, too, that his mind was seeking some way out of the difficulty in which he was placed.

"You are an impostor. We cannot speak to you. Leave the house!" Again it was my grandfather's second wife who spoke.

"If you wish," replied Naomi's father, "it shall be taken to a court of law. It would be painful for me to have the past recalled, but it shall be so if you will. You are my daughter's legal guardian, and until my identity is established you can exercise a certain amount of control. But remember this, if my past is made public, so will yours be. I shall want many things explained which will not be creditable to you, neither will you be free from the law's just punishment. My child will be placed in the witness-box, and she will have to tell many things which, I should judge, will not be pleasant to you."

In saying this he never raised his voice, although I knew his excitement was great, and that he had much difficulty in restraining his passion.

For a few seconds there was a deathly silence, for neither Richard Tresidder nor his mother spoke a word. Both seemed stunned by what was said. I saw, however, that presently they looked at the men who stood near, and who as yet had not spoken a word.

"I do not think you will find physical force of much use," went on Mr. Penryn quietly, "for even if Jasper Pennington could not fell an ox with one blow of his arm, and you could get rid of us by the means you are considering, it would be of no use. Think you we have come here without precautions? I knew better than that."

Then I remembered that he had spoken to Eli Fraddam when I had sent him away. I saw what he meant now, although at the time I wondered what he had to say to the dwarf.

Then Richard Tresidder's mother rose to her feet, and came up close to where we stood.

"Let me look at you, and see if you be John Penryn," she said, and he stood still while the woman gazed steadily at him, as though she would read the secrets of his heart.

Presently her eyes flashed as though she had come to a decision.

"There is no doubt, Richard," she said, "this is John Penryn. I remember his face, I can recall his voice now. You must give up your ward, my son. We have guarded her in many trying times, we have shielded her from great danger. But now it is at an end. Of course there must be many formalities to go through, but there need be no trouble, no publicity. All our actions can be explained. All we have done has been for the child's good. You are welcome, John, and Pennington must be your home until your claim to Trevose is made good, as it will be, for we shall raise no barriers."

This she said with many other things which I will not here write down. She spoke pleasantly and plausibly, too, until for a moment I forgot who she was, and thought her to be truly a lovable and motherly old lady.

But this was only for a moment, and I must confess I was not at all pleased at the turn things were taking, especially as she seemed to impress Mr. Penryn favourably.

"Where is my child now?" he asked eagerly.

"She is here, John; here in this very house. You shall see her anon. We have been obliged to be careful for her, for she has had an enemy in that man by your side. He, a penniless scoundrel, has dogged her footsteps, and sought to ruin her life, and out of love for her we have been obliged to take steps that may have seemed harsh, but which, believe me, John, were for the good of the child whom we thought an orphan, and wholly dependent on us."

"And who is this enemy?" asked Naomi's father.

"It is Jasper Pennington," she cried, "the man by your side, a cowardly ruffian, a drunken swaggerer, and the companion of the vilest people in the country. We have sought to save her from him, John Penryn; and now, thank God, our work is done."

This she said with a tremor in her voice, as though she had been an injured woman.

"You know it is a lie!" I cried vehemently. "You know it to be a base lie!"

And this was all I could say, for the wily woman seemed to take all words from my mouth, save those of a blank denial to her wicked lies. Besides my heart sunk like lead as I saw how her words weighed with Naomi's father, and as though he saw everything in a new light.

"Let me see my child," he said at length, and after both Richard Tresidder and his mother had made themselves out to be the guardian angels of Naomi's life, while I had been plotting her destruction.

"You shall see her when he is gone," she said, pointing to me. "I can never consent for her to come here while that wretch is in the room." Whereupon John Penryn asked many questions, which they answered so cunningly that I was tongue-tied, and could say nothing except foolish, wild ejaculations.

"Go, Jasper Pennington," he said at length, "leave me here."

"No," I said; "I came to find Naomi, my love. I will see her before I go. She has promised to be my wife."

"His wife!" cried Richard Tresidder's mother. "Think of it. He possesses not one stick. He is a wild vagabond, a terror wherever he goes. How can Naomi Penryn become his wife?"

"Pennington should be mine!" I cried, like one demented. "You robbed it from my father."

"You know the history of Pennington, John," cried the old woman; "it is held in trust for my son. It should have been given to him outright, but my poor husband was mad at the time, and he made a madman's will. But can this fellow buy it back? Has he wealth sufficient to pay half the worth of the estate?"

"Go, Jasper Pennington," said Naomi's father again; "I will do what is right. This woman says you are an evildoer. Well, it shall be my work to guard my child against evildoers."

Then all the heart went out of me, and I, who had hoped so much, left the house of my fathers without so much as seeing Naomi or knowing whether I should ever behold her again. Ay, I left it a beaten man, without a hope, without one bright spot in the sky of my life.

I saw that Naomi's father had been dragged into the Tresidders' net, and that he would be the creature of their wills, the tool to help them to fulfil their purposes.

Except for this my mind was a perfect blank. Slow as I always was to think, I saw no way out of my difficulties. That which I had hoped for came not, and my worst fears were realised.

In this state of mind I, forgetful of the horse on which I rode to the house, walked until I came to the gates, where, in the light moonlight, I thought I saw Eli Fraddam coming toward me.

CHAPTER XXVI

TELLS OF MY FORTUNES IN WINNING BACK MY BIRTHRIGHT, AND FINISHES THE TALE

"She ed'n killed," was his first greeting. "She'll get better." Then I remembered that he had come from Kynance Cove, and spoke of Tamsin Truscott.

"I did ride vast," he grunted again presently, but I spoke not.