The Wizard of West Penwith Part 24

There stood the chest wide open, as the girl had seen it through the keyhole; but no one thought of looking into this,--their whole thoughts were centred in the fate of the owner himself. They searched everywhere, but no trace of him could be found. Alice Ann suggested that he had probably gone up the chimney in a flash of fire, and that he might be on the housetop at that very moment, looking in upon them, or riding through the air on a broomstick. "We've heard of such things, you knaw,"

said she.

They were roused from their speculations on the mysterious disappearance of "The Maister" by an exclamation from Mr. Morley, who had been narrowly examining the room, and was now standing transfixed before the large chest, which was open, and from which some things had been taken out on the floor.

"As I live," he exclaimed, "this is my chest! How could this have got here?"

"That's the chest," replied Josiah, "that 'The Maister' found after the wreck, and told us to bring up here,--for what, we cudn't tell."

"That chest contained money and papers of great value," said Mr. Morley; "it has been overhauled evidently to some purpose, and no doubt everything valuable is gone."

"Oh! no, sir!" cried Alrina, in a pitiable tone; "don't accuse my father of robbery,--he would never do that, I am quite sure."

"My dear young lady," said the squire; "your father shall not be accused of anything that cannot be fully proved; but I am bound to say it, however painful it may be to you, that I have had my suspicions for some time, and so have my brother magistrates. He could not have lived without money, and the mystery is where he got it from. Now, pray be calm, while Mr. Morley examines his chest."

"'Morley!'" cried Alrina; "did I hear you rightly, sir? did you call that gentleman 'Morley?'"

"My name is Morley," said that gentleman, taking her hand; "I am the brother of one whom I know you have been led to believe will take you out of your present position, and raise you to his station in life."

"No, sir," replied Alrina, indignantly,--"my family shall never be a disgrace to anyone; and, let me tell you, sir, that neither you nor your brother shall ever be disgraced by me! I will never be the wife of a man who might afterwards despise me."

"That was n.o.bly spoken," said the squire; "you're an honour to your s.e.x. Gad! I wish my daughters could speak like that, and send the jackanapes about their business that come swarming about my house."

"Dear lor'! what a handsome coat," exclaimed Alice Ann, as she saw Mr.

Morley take a richly embroidered coat from the chest.

"Yes," said he, holding up the coat and admiring it; "that coat cost me a great deal of money. I had it made to wear at a grand fancy-dress ball in Calcutta; and there are other parts of the dress to match, somewhere.

Oh! here they are; you have never seen anything like that in England, squire, have you?"

"Gad! but I have, though," exclaimed the squire; "if not that same dress, there was one very like it worn by a stranger at our last ball at Penzance. And now I begin to think,--why, it must have been Freeman himself disguised. I never saw him very near that I remember, for he always avoided me: but it struck me at the time that I had certainly seen that face somewhere before, but he looked much younger than he can possibly be."

"Aw! 'The Maister' esn't so old nor yet so ugly as he do make out to be," said Josiah.

After searching still further, Mr. Morley found the bag in which his money had been placed, but the money was all gone and the papers also.

"Now!" exclaimed he, jumping up from the kneeling posture in which he had been for the purpose of examining the contents of the chest; "here's proof enough. Now let us use all our exertions to secure the man." And, leaving Alrina and Alice Ann to take care of themselves, the two gentlemen left the house more quickly than they had entered it, followed by Josiah. But the object of their search had got the start of them by several hours; for his fear so overcame him at the sight of Mr. Morley entering his house--(why, was best known to himself)--that he opened the room door at once, and locked it behind him, putting the key into his pocket, and escaped through the back door, and over the back garden wall, while Alice Ann was opening the front garden gate to let Mr.

Morley and Josiah in. And, making his way as fast as he could to the cove, he there got a boat which took him out to Cooper's little cutter, which was anch.o.r.ed a short distance out waiting for orders. It was his intention to leave the country in this cutter, as soon as he had arranged his affairs; for he found things were going against him, and that his power was failing fast; but he did not intend to have gone quite so soon. He had secreted a considerable sum in gold and jewels round his person, inside his clothes, several days before,--so that, in this respect, he was quite prepared for whatever might happen at any time.

The three pursuers traced him to the seaside, and were just in time to see the cutter which bore him away. But the little vessel had gone too far for any attempt to be made to follow her, with the least chance of success; so they retraced their steps with disappointed looks and feelings.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

ALRINA VISITS A KIND FRIEND AND MAKES A PROPOSAL.

Alrina's cup of misery was now full to the brim. It had required but one drop more to fill it, and here it was. Her lover had deserted her--that was most certain; but she had forgiven him, and made up her mind that she would exonerate him from all his vows,--indeed, she would insist on breaking off the engagement for ever, on account of the dark mystery which hung over her family history.

But while the mystery was concealed, whatever it was, there was still a hope that it might turn out in the end that there was no mystery at all, and all might still be well. She secretly hoped this, although, in her magnanimity, she considered it her duty to exonerate her lover from all ties. But now the mystery was solved. It was no longer dark and concealed, yielding a hope, however slight, that it might have existed merely in her own imagination. It was no longer dark or mysterious. Her father had robbed Mr. Morley (her lover's brother) of a considerable sum of money, and had purloined his valuable papers, and had moreover gone to a public ball at Penzance, dressed in Mr. Morley's clothes. There was no getting over this;--there was no mystery here. All this could be fully proved,--and he had gone off, no one knew where.

What was she to do? She was left without a friend and penniless. There was the house, it was true; but she could not live there without a penny to buy food.

Squire Pendray told the sad story when he returned home; and good Mrs.

Pendray went herself to Mr. Freeman's, and begged Alrina to go home with her, and live with them as one of her daughters. This kind offer Alrina respectfully declined. Mrs. Pendray then offered her a supply of money to purchase necessaries until her father's return.

"My father will never return, madam," said she, with dignity; "he cannot. And, although I thank you from my heart for your kindness, I cannot accept charity,--no, madam, I must gain my own livelihood, as many a poor girl has done before."

So the good lady, having failed of success in her good intentions, took an affectionate leave of the n.o.ble girl, begging her to reconsider her determination, and to come to her still if she altered her mind. "I shall watch over you, my dear," said the good lady at parting, "and shall get information brought me of your progress. Good bye! And may the Almighty Giver of all good watch over and protect you."

This disinterested kindness was almost overpowering. It was as much as Alrina could do to prevent herself from giving way to her feelings. She had borne her lover's supposed desertion, and the discovery of her father's disgrace without shedding a tear, or allowing anyone to discover how much she was affected by them. Now she could bear up no longer. Mrs. Pendray's kind offer of protection and charity made her feel the full force of her situation, and she returned to her room, and, throwing herself on her bed, wept bitter tears of distress, mingled with feelings of anger and wounded pride. She had been deserted, disgraced, and humiliated. Long did she remain in that state of desponding wretchedness. It was not in her nature to give way to her feelings, and weep for every trifling thing that went wrong; she had been brought up in a sterner school. But when she did give way, hers was not an ordinary fit of weeping and then over; no, when she wept, it was a terrible outbreak of pent-up feelings, like a large reservoir of water bursting its banks, and carrying all before it. Nothing could stop it, until it had spent itself out. And so it was now with Alrina;--she tossed and rolled on her bed in her agony of mind, and wept until she became exhausted, and then fell into a sound sleep, from which she awoke after some hours, refreshed and renovated both in mind and body. She bathed her eyes and face in cold water, and rearranged her hair, and sat in her chair by the side of the dressing-table, calm and dignified, and began to think of what she should do for the future.

The past was gone for her. She must leave the house at once, and lock it up, after allowing Mr. Morley to take what remained of his property.

She rang for Alice Ann, and told her her determination, and offered her some money--all she had in the world--in payment of her wages for the past few weeks. This the poor girl as indignantly but respectfully refused, as Alrina herself had refused but a few hours before the proposed kindness and protection of Mrs. Pendray.

"Why, she's maazed, I reckon," said Alice Ann, looking at her young mistress as if she were some dangerous animal; "do 'ee knaw what you're tellen' of, do 'ee?--_you_ go out for to get your livin'--no, no,--tarry here, Miss Reeney, an' I'll tend 'ee the same as I do now, an' nevar take a penny. An' as for meat,--'where there's a will there's a way,'--we'll take in st.i.tchen' an' sawen', I cud used to do plain work, brave an' tidy; an' you cud do the fine work. We'll get along, nevar you fear."

"It is very kind of you, Alice Ann, to offer to help me to live,"

replied Alrina; "but it cannot be,--I shall not remain in this house another night after what has happened, if I can possibly help it. I shall go out now for a short time, and when I return we will arrange for the future." So saying, she put on her bonnet and shawl, and went down the road, leaving Alice Ann at a loss to conjecture what she meant to do, or where she could be going in such a hurry.

"She's gone to chat it over weth somebody, I s'pose," said the girl, as she stood at the door and watched her young mistress walking quietly down the road.

Alice Ann was right in a measure. Alrina was going to chat it over with somebody, but not for the purpose of asking advice, nor by way of idle gossip. She had fully determined in her own mind what she would do; and when she had fully made up her mind to a thing it was not an easy matter to turn her from her purpose.

Mrs. Trenow's house was generally her favourite resort when she wanted a quiet chat; but, to Alice Ann's surprise, she pa.s.sed that house now, and went on into the heart of the village, and she soon lost sight of her, and returned into the house to put things in order, and prepare the tea against her young mistress returned.

Alrina stopped before the door of the "Commercial" Inn as if doubtful what she should do. After a moment's hesitation, however, she walked quietly in. Mrs. Brown had been working very briskly at her needle, mending some old garment after a fashion; for she was no great hand at that sort of work,--knitting she could get on with tolerably well, because it required very little skill, and was therefore rather pleasant work. She was now sitting looking at her work with an angry brow; for, after all her trouble, she had put on the wrong piece. She had sat for several hours, st.i.tch, st.i.tch, at that garment, patching it up, as she thought, to look nearly as well as ever, and now all her labour was lost, for the piece must come off again;--it would never do as it was.

"Drat the old gown!" said she; "here have I be'n worken' my fingers to the bone, an' puzzlin' my brain till I'm all mizzy mazey, an' thinken' I had done a bra' job,--an' there it is."

"Send for the tailor, Peggy! send for the tailor, to be sure," said Mr.

Brown from his place in the chimney-corner, from whence he seldom stirred now; for he had become feeble in body as well as in mind, since the shock he had experienced by the terrible death of his favourite mare. Mrs. Brown was very kind to him and indulged him as far as she could; but she could not help being irritated sometimes by his silly remarks; for he prematurely declined into second childhood.

"Send for a fool! and that's you, John Brown," replied his wife, testily, as she turned the garment in different directions to see if she could make it do at all, without ripping out the piece again;--but it was of no use, out it must come.

"If that lazy maid we've got here could st.i.tch a bit tidy she wud be some help," soliloquized the old lady; "but she's no good but to scrub the floors, and tend the pigs,--she caen't draw a pint of beer fitty.

And there's Grace Bastian, the only decent maid we had in the parish for to do a bit of sewing-work, she must prink herself off to Penzance too.

I don't knaw what's come to the maidens, not I. Miss Reeney! how are 'ee my dear? Come in an' sit down;--why, you're quite a stranger," continued the good landlady, as she rose to place a chair for her visitor.

"Yes, I've been very much occupied since our return," replied Alrina;--"but what are you about, Mrs. Brown?--you seem to have mended your dress with a piece of a different colour. Why, here's a piece that would have matched it exactly, and, if st.i.tched in neatly, no one would find out that it had been mended."

"That's the very thing I'm thinken' about," said Mrs. Brown. "Here have I be'n st.i.tch, st.i.tch, nearly all the day, putten' on that piece, an'

when I had finished it I found I had put on the wrong one; but I caen't st.i.tch any more to-day,--my head is bad already."

"Let me see," said Alrina, taking the dress, and matching the right piece on it;--"there, Mrs. Brown, that would do nicely, would it not?"

"Yes, my dear; but the thing is to st.i.tch it in."