The Wizard of West Penwith Part 12

"No fie, you ha'n't," replied Mrs. Trenow. "He's gone, cheeld vean, an'

joy go weth 'n, says I."

"You are speaking of Mr. Freeman, I presume," said Mr. Morley. "I came here almost on purpose to see him, and we found the house shut up. Can you give us any information respecting his movements?"

"No, sar, I caen't," replied Mrs. Trenow. "About a week ago, or so--I caen't tell to a day--Miss Freeman (that's 'The Maister's' sister, sar) told Alice Ann (that's the maid, sar) that she might have a holiday in the afternoon; an' glad enough the maid wor to have her holiday, I can a.s.sure 'ee, sar. Well, she went out and stayed away till brave an' late in the evenin', an' she went home thinkin' she shud have a bra' scold for stayin' out so long; but when she came to the gate, she found it all fastened up, an' the winder-shutters up, an' the house looking quite whisht like."

"That's very strange," said Morley; "but where are they gone?"

"That's the very thing, sar," replied Mrs. Trenow. "'Where are they gone?' says you; and 'where are they gone?' says everybody, 'ceps Mrs.

Brown,--she don't say nothin'. The maid's clothes wor left there for har, an' that's all she'll tell."

"Thank you, Mrs. Trenow," said Morley; "I think we must ask Mrs. Brown, Josiah."

"I b'lieve we must, sar," replied Josiah, thoughtfully. "Where's Alice Ann, thon, mother; she esn't gone after them, I s'pose?"

"No, no; she's up to har aunt's stopping a bit. Har fe-a-ther an' mother do live a bra' way off, you knaw."

"Now, I'll tell 'ee, sar," said Josiah; "you go up to Mrs. Brown's an'

knaw all you can, an' I'll go down an' see what Alice Ann have got to say,--an', between es, we may find out somethen'."

"Quite right, Josiah," returned his master, "that is a very good plan."

And each of them went his way on a voyage of discovery.

Mrs. Brown was laying the cloth for the midday meal when Morley entered, and her husband was sitting in the chimney-corner. The old lady was overjoyed to see her visitor, and, running towards him, she took his hand in both hers, and kissed it, saying,--

"I am glad to see you once more, Mr. Morley. It was a miraculous escape; an' I hope it will be a warnin' to you, not to risk your life agen at the biddin' of a rogue an' a fool."

"My dear Mrs. Brown," replied Morley, "it was a narrow escape; but the beautiful mare is gone! What does Mr. Brown do, without his Jessie mare?"

"The name of the mare roused Mr. Brown from his lethargy, and, coming out of his corner, he said,--

"Where's my hat, Peggy? I'm goin' to get Jessie mare out, for the gentleman to try her a bit before to-morrow. Come, sir. Wo! ho! Jessie; wo! ho. Come, Polly! Poll! Poll! Polly! Where's that maid gone, Peggy.

Billy, boy, come an' saddle the mare."

His hat, which was on his head, shone as brightly as ever, but his internal brightness was gone. He never recovered the shock of seeing his mare fall over the cliff, and the narrow escape of its rider. It was very true he hadn't much to lose, poor man, intellectually. His one idea was centred in the mare, and they both went together. He wandered in and out of the house continually, and, as he didn't interfere with others, no one interfered with him.

"Poor man," said Mr. Morley, looking after him.

"It's a blessin', Mr. Morley," said Mrs. Brown, "that the mare es gone.

She was no use here; and she was eatin' her head off, as the sayin' is.

What is, is best, I b'lieve."

"My errand to St. Just," said Morley, "was princ.i.p.ally to see Mr.

Freeman, and I find he's gone away."

"Iss, he's gone, an' joy go weth 'n," replied Mrs. Brown.

"Where is he gone," said Morley; "do you know?"

"All I do knaw es this," replied Mrs. Brown. "He came here about ten days ago, an' said he wor goin' to take his daughter for a little trip, as she dedn't seem well,--she was so low-spirited, he said,--and he asked me to take care of the maid Alice Ann's clothes for har, untel she came back; for p'raps she wud be back before they wud. I thought they wor goin' to Scilly, p'raps, or to Truro. And away they went, and Alice Ann came for har clothes the next day. She dedn't go. Where they're gone, I can no more tell than you can."

"That's very strange; I wish I knew where they were gone," replied Morley, thoughtfully.

"You may wish agen, I b'lieve," returned Mrs. Brown; "he'll turn up again one day, like a poor penny. Come, sir, have a snack weth us; we're just going to dinner."

So poor Mr. Brown was called in, and the three sat down to a nicely seasoned beef-steak pie, which Morley enjoyed very much after his walk, notwithstanding his disappointment.

Josiah gained very little more information than his master. Alice Ann told him that, for several days before they left, her young mistress, Alrina, was confined to her room. She seemed drowsy, like, the girl said, and didn't care to move nor to speak.

"I do b'lieve, Siah," said she, speaking in a half whisper, "that she had some doctor's trade gov to har for to put har to slaip,--I do, sure nuf; and they took har away in a post-chaise while she wor slaipen'."

Morley thought that if he could find where the post-chaise came from, he might, by bribing and questioning the postboy, gain some clue to their probable destination;--for, in addition to his anxiety to see Mr.

Freeman, which was now confirmed more than ever, he was doubly anxious for the safety of Alrina, whom he was convinced her father and aunt were persecuting--perhaps on his account, but why, he could not imagine; for he was not aware that Alrina's relatives knew of his attachment to her, or that he had ever met her. He little knew the resources of the "man of cunning" for obtaining information of what took place in that neighbourhood. He left a hasty note for his friend Fowler, stating that he was unexpectedly called away on important business; and, taking Josiah with him in the combined capacity of companion, a.s.sistant, and valet, he proceeded on his travels in search of the fugitives.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE MYSTERIOUS ENCOUNTER.

We left Lieut. Fowler on the road between Lamorna Cove and the signal-station, at Tol-pedn-Penwith. Various were the conjectures that pa.s.sed through his mind during his walk, as to who the stranger could be, but to no purpose. He could not think of any of his relatives or acquaintances, who would be likely to be in that neighbourhood, without apprising him of their intended visit. If it should turn out to be a good companionable fellow, he wouldn't mind, but then, he was an old grey-headed man, as he construed Miss Pendray's description of the stranger. His friend, Frederick Morley, had gone off in rather an unceremonious manner, and had left him again to the resources of the Land's-End for amus.e.m.e.nt and companionship; and he had therefore been more frequent in his visits to Pendrea-house, and more attentive to the young ladies, than during his friend's visit.

It was not often that Miss Pendray favoured Fowler and her sister with her company; for, as the reader already knows, she had more attractions elsewhere; and so accustomed were her friends to her romantic wanderings over the bold cliffs alone, that the innocent Blanche was continually Lieut. Fowler's only companion, and the time generally pa.s.sed so pleasantly that neither of them regretted the absence of a third party.

When Miss Pendray came upon them so suddenly and unexpectedly on that eventful morning, they were in the midst of a very interesting, but, to Blanche, rather an embarra.s.sing, _tete-a-tete_. The gentleman was trying to make himself understood, without saying what he meant, in so many words; and the lady, although--sly little creature--she knew quite well what he meant to say, and wished from her heart he would say it out boldly, and not be hammering and stammering about it so--making her every moment feel more nervous and embarra.s.sed, and himself too; yet she would not help him, even by a look, but kept turning a pebble round and round with her foot, and looking as steadily on the sand as if she was endeavouring to look underneath it, for some rich treasure supposed to be buried there.

In the midst of all this, came the majestic Maud, with the tale of her adventure with the remarkable stranger with the white hair. Wasn't it provoking to be interrupted just at that critical time? Fowler felt that it was downright----we won't say what. He wished the white-headed stranger was at the bottom of the sea, and Maud on the top of the cliffs, or anywhere, rather than there, at that moment. However, the spell was broken; there was no help for it now; and he had nothing to do but just walk home to see who this confounded fellow was, and what he wanted.

With all these reflections pa.s.sing through his mind, as he neared his little cabin, he was not prepared to receive the stranger very cordially, nor to give him a very hearty welcome. He was told by the men, as he came up, that the gentleman was inside; and, as he pa.s.sed the window of his sitting-room to reach the front door, he looked in, thinking he might catch a glimpse of the fellow before he went in. He caught more than a glimpse of him; for the stranger was standing at a little distance from the window, looking out over the bold headland at the sea in the distance, apparently absorbed in thought.

Fowler started, and turned pale, as if he had seen a ghost, and was obliged to hold by the railing of the little porch for a minute, before he could recover himself sufficiently to enter.

Sailors are not easily alarmed at trifles; so he soon got over the effects of his shock, or whatever it was, and, entering the room, in his usual boisterous, sailor-like style, exclaimed, louder than there was perhaps any occasion for,--

"Mr. Morley! how are you? I'm glad to see you once more."

This stentorian reception made the stranger start, and, turning round, he said, bowing to his host,--

"Lieut. Fowler, I presume. But how you should know that my name is Morley, I am at a loss to conceive, as I am pretty sure we have never seen one another before, and am quite sure you did not expect me."

Fowler pa.s.sed his hand across his eyes, as if trying to recall something; and then he said abstractedly, as he placed a seat for his guest,--

"Not seen you before? surely, yes!--and yet, no! that cannot be." And he seemed so bewildered, that the stranger proceeded to explain; for he now began to see that the lieutenant was labouring under a mistake.

"You see the likeness to my poor father," said he.

"Ah!" exclaimed Fowler, starting up; "I see it all now. When I last saw your father, fifteen or sixteen years ago, he was the exact image of what you are now. He was older, of course, but there was the same remarkable white hair. Yours no doubt became white prematurely, causing you to look older than you really are. When I saw you standing at the window, I thought I saw your father standing before me. The likeness is most remarkable; and, almost before I had recovered myself, and without reflecting for a moment, I rushed into the room to welcome my old friend."