The Wizard of West Penwith Part 36

Josiah did not let go his hold of the boy until they were safely seated in a room at Pendrea-house. And, even then, he would not let him go until the door was bolted, and he had seen that all the windows were fastened, and had even looked up the chimney.

"He ha' ben in queer places in his time I reckon," said he, "and seed a bra' many things: he ha' gov'd us the slip oftener then he will again."

Refreshments were ordered in and done justice to by all; and, when Mr.

Morley and his brother arrived, the squire requested all the party to attend him in his library or Justice-room, as the domestics persisted in calling it.

Josiah still kept the boy in custody, and when all were a.s.sembled, Squire Pendray said, addressing the boy,--"It appears that you can enlighten us on all we want to know respecting the inmates of this house, and we wish you to relate all particulars respecting them. You can gain nothing, now, by keeping anything back; but may benefit yourself a good deal by confessing everything, and informing us who were there, and how they got there, and the origin of the fire, if you know.

Fear nothing: I tell you, in the presence of these gentlemen, that you shall not suffer, in any way, for what you may reveal to us. If you do not tell us the truth, and we think you are concealing anything that you ought to reveal, you must suffer the consequences."

The boy looked from one to the other, and seemed to hesitate for several minutes before he spoke. His eyes were directed more than once towards the door, as if he expected to see someone enter to relieve him of his perplexity; no one came, however, and he seemed to feel that he was standing alone in the world. His old friends (if friends they were) could help him no longer, and his shrewdness told him he had better make a virtue of necessity; so after a short pause, as if collecting his scattered thoughts, he began his confession. He had been too much mixed up with the conjuror to have imbibed very much of the Cornish dialect, although he sometimes used it. Thus he began in very intelligible English,--"'The Maister' saved my life, gentlemen, by his knowledge in medicine, and I was grateful for it. He took a liking to me, and I helped him in his business: call it what you will,--conjuring if you like. I never grew after he took me into his service at eight years old: perhaps I don't look more than that now, but I am eight-and-twenty. I was useful to 'The Maister' on account of my size: I could worm out a little secret by hiding in odd corners, and I never forgot what I heard; I liked the post, and gloried in seeing the astonishment of some of the people to whom 'The Maister' told some secrets he had heard through me, which they thought no one else knew but themselves. Our adventures were varied and frequent; the last was an awful one, when we came on sh.o.r.e under St. Just in a vessel bottom uppermost. 'The Maister' persuaded me, when I went to see him at his house afterwards, that he had been the means of saving my life again, in return for which he wanted my services. He expected the officers of justice. He was not so ill as he pretended; but it would not have been safe for him to be taken away by his friends then, nor to be supposed to have escaped in the ordinary way; he would have been traced at once. I had the means of getting into his room at anytime from the back premises, through a pa.s.sage that no one knew but ourselves. He had some drug by him which would cause the party taking it to appear dead for a short time. I was in the room when the constable and some of you gentlemen were below entreating Miss Reeney to take you up into his room. We heard you coming: I gave the mixture to 'The Maister,' and crept under the bed, and when you entered you p.r.o.nounced him dead, and left almost immediately. Another mixture, which he had previously prepared, and which I had ready to give him, restored him at once; and that night, with the a.s.sistance of our friends, whose names I need not now mention, whom I had communicated with by means of the poor fellow commonly called 'Mazed d.i.c.k,' whose swiftness of foot is well known, we got 'The Maister' away, and the report that he had been taken away by the spirits favoured us. We brought him to the cottage that was burned down to-day, where we knew Miss Freeman had been for some weeks confined through illness, brought on by exposure to the cold; she fell and fractured a limb, in walking from Penzance to Lieut. Fowler's station, where she was going on some errand in connexion with that dumb girl--what it was I don't know. She slipped her foot and fell and broke her leg, and there she lay, on the cold ground, all night, until she was discovered by 'Mazed d.i.c.k' in one of his rambles, and was taken to his brother's cottage. I could not desert my master; I believed in his power, and do still. He was recovering fast: he could get up and walk about his room, and intended being off in a few days; I was to have gone with him. This morning, to my surprise, I saw the dumb girl come out of a room at the further end of the house; the mistress of the house, and her son, 'Mazed d.i.c.k,' were gone away, and the outer door was locked: I watched her, but was not seen by her. She peeped into several rooms, and tried the door of the one in which 'The Maister' was; but that was always kept locked and bolted on the inside. She then went on to the room in which Miss Freeman lay in bed. She seemed to know her at once; for she darted into the room, and drew something from her bosom; it seemed like an ear-ring, as well as I could see it; and she pointed and made signs, which Miss Freeman seemed to understand, and which seemed to irritate her very much. Miss Freeman had a lighted candle, on a small table, by her bedside, for the purpose of reading some papers. The room was very dark, although it was early in the morning, but the windows were small, and half-hid by the thatch of the roof, which hung down over them. She tried to s.n.a.t.c.h at what the girl held in her hand; and, in doing so, she overturned the candle on the bed, when a bottle of something inflammable fell with it, and the bed in an instant, was in a blaze. She seized the girl by her hair, and dragged her on to the bed, when they both caught fire, and the poor girl seized the woman by the arms to make her let go her hair, and so she pulled her out of bed, and they both fell together on the floor, a ma.s.s of flames. I could not a.s.sist them, so I ran out through a side-door which I knew how to open, in order to call a.s.sistance, when I met Josiah, and he sent me on to Lieut. Fowler, but I believe Josiah didn't know who I was, he seemed so frightened at what I told him. When I met him again, it was at the door of 'The Maister's'

room. He had followed me when I ran through on my return from Lieut.

Fowler's. The door was locked and bolted on the inside. I told Josiah whose room it was, and he forced the door open; for the wood in which the bolts were fixed was still burning, and easily gave way: the fire had reached this room and blazed in all its fury; and I suppose, from the burning of the roof and the wood all round, the bolts of the door soon became too hot for 'The Maister' to touch them, and so he was burnt to death. That is my tale, gentlemen, and all I have spoken is the truth."

So saying, the boy or man which ever he might be called, placed his hands before his eyes and awaited the result of his communication: whether the thought of the awful death of "The Maister," whom he seemed to have looked up to with fear and grat.i.tude, drew a tear from his eyes or not, was not known. His tale was believed; and, after a consultation among the gentlemen present, it was agreed that something should be done for the poor fellow, on his promising to lead a new life and give up all evil practices in future. This he very readily and sincerely promised,--and the party separated for the present, as Mr. Morley said he must return to Penzance to see his uncle and aunt previous to his commencing, in company with his brother, the search after the wretches at whose hands his poor father had suffered such grievous wrong, and which had been r.e.t.a.r.ded by the occurrence of recent events. Now they would have nothing to r.e.t.a.r.d their search, he said,--and he would not rest until he had found them and brought them to justice or confession.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

A BRILLIANT CORNISH DIAMOND DISCOVERED AND PLACED IN A GOLDEN CASKET.

Julia was very glad, when she returned, to find her old schoolfellow Alrina with her uncle and aunt; and astonished beyond measure, when she learned that she was also her cousin. The story, altogether, was so romantic, she said, that it reminded her of something she had read a long time ago in one of the old Romances at Ashley Hall; and she was so interested in it, that, when her aunt had finished her recital, she begged her to repeat it over again; but this she was prevented from doing, even had she intended it, by the arrival of Mr. Morley and Frederick.

Julia had not seen much of her brothers lately; she received them, therefore, with warmth, especially Frederick, whom, being nearer her own age, and better known to her from their having been thrown together in their childhood, she loved with the tenderest affection. She saw that the meeting between him and Alrina was not what it ought to have been,--nor did the coolness wear off: so she took Alrina out of the room, on some pretence, and asked her the reason; for she knew that two fonder hearts never pledged their troth to one another than those two.

Alrina hesitated, at first, and seemed at a loss what answer to give, until Julia reminded her that they were now not only old friends and schoolfellows, but were near relatives, and, unless there was some secret that could not be revealed, she should feel very grieved if her newly-found cousin could not place sufficient confidence in her as a friend, to tell her what had caused the coolness between two, who, but a short time ago, seemed so devoted to each other. "If Frederick has said or done anything to annoy or displease you," she said, "I am sure it was unintentional on his part; and, if you will tell me, in confidence, I will do my best to set all things right."

Still Alrina hesitated, and Julia began to suspect that the coolness she had observed was caused by something more serious than she had at first imagined; but, whatever it was, she thought it had better be explained, and, as Alrina did not seem inclined to speak, she went on with her persuasive arguments. "Consider, Alrina dear, what years of pain and mental suffering my poor aunt endured on account of her reticence. Had she revealed her secret in the beginning, she would have been much happier, and your life would not have been subject to so many changes and vicissitudes as you have experienced. If your secret is not one that you cannot reveal, pray unburden your mind to me, as your near relative and dearest friend."

Thus importuned, Alrina felt that she could not any longer refuse her confidence to her friend, and, putting her arm round Julia's waist, she led her into her own little room, which had already been prepared for her, and there she told her all, as they sat folding one another in a fond sisterly embrace.

"You n.o.ble girl!" exclaimed Julia, when her cousin had finished the recital of her troubles, and had told with what bitter pain and anguish she had done violence to her feelings, by telling Frederick that she could not love him, in order to save him and his family from marrying one whose father's evil deeds must throw disgrace and shame upon all connected with him.

"I would rather have died than brought this disgrace on Frederick and his family," cried Alrina; "and, having thus discarded him who is dearer to me than my life, how can I think that he will ever look upon me again in any other light than as a fickle wayward girl: he can have no further confidence in me;--indeed, I will not ask it; I do not deserve his love or confidence after my cruel treatment of him."

"We shall see,"--replied Julia, smiling and kissing her friend fondly,--"We shall see, my sweet cousin."

While the two cousins were having their confidential chat, Captain and Mrs. Courland and their two nephews were talking over the events of the past few days, and Mr. Morley related to his uncle and aunt the boy's confession.

"Before you leave us to prosecute the search you are so anxious about,"

said Mrs. Courland, addressing the two young men, "I should like to open the packet entrusted to me by Miss Freeman (or Miss Fisher as I always called her): she is dead now, poor woman; so that my promise is at an end."

"Yes!" said the captain, "let it be opened, now,--we won't keep any more secrets or mysteries here."

The packet was therefore produced and opened. It contained a long ma.n.u.script, written in a neat hand, and was headed,--

"_The Confession of Maria Fisher, alias Freeman_":--

and Mr. Morley, being requested to read it, read as follows:--

"I, Maria Fisher, alias Freeman, being on my death-bed, make this confession as the only atonement and reparation I can make for the evil deeds I have done during my life: I have injured almost beyond reparation, the whole of the Morley family.

"First Isabella Morley was the victim of my avarice. I kept her little daughter, to serve my own ends, and palmed off the poor dumb girl (of whom more anon) on her as her child. Alrina, whom I called my niece, is Isabella Morley's daughter. Proofs sufficient can be found.--The Coopers know all: and my sinful brother knows all.--Sift it out. That poor dumb girl was found by Cooper, washed on sh.o.r.e from a wreck: he picked her up and carried her to his house. She had a peculiar pair of ear-rings in her ears, very handsome and costly: I have one in my possession now--the other I have missed. Her linen was marked '_Fowler_.' We have since learned that Lieut. Fowler's brother and his little daughter were wrecked on this coast on their voyage from India. He was drowned; the child was saved. The Coopers know more;--my brother knows all. This child's infirmity was useful to us: she was kept at the Coopers'. Sift this out to the bottom to: here is the clue:"--

"Oh, miserable woman!" exclaimed Mrs. Courland,--"what a life of sin and wickedness she must have led!"

"Yes!" replied Mr. Morley.--"but that is not all: let me go on. The remainder of the ma.n.u.script is not quite so legible: it seems to have been written under the influence of stimulants: it is blotted, and some words are erased with the pen and written over again: I will read it as well as I can, but you must give me time." And, having smoothed out the ma.n.u.script, and turned his chair, so as to let the light fall full on the paper, he resumed his task. There were many stoppages in the course of the reading, and many exclamations of surprise and horror, which we will not notice here, but let the confession go on smoothly, to avoid confusion and tediousness.

"If the first part of my confession has startled the reader (whoever he may be)" it went on, "let him close the MS.--What has been told, is as nothing to what remains. How to approach this part of my confession I know not. Brandy will a.s.sist me. Brandy! Brandy! That will drown my better thoughts, and bring me back to that dread night, and help me to tell my tale as fearlessly and heartlessly as the deed was committed.

"Now I can go on again. Mrs. Courland, the once beautiful Isabella Morley, had returned to Ashley Hall. My brother and myself followed, and took a lone cottage near the sea-coast.--Our father lived with us. He was a rover, though an old man: unsteady and intemperate in his habits: he was useful to the smugglers, and they paid him well for his a.s.sistance. My brother took a higher walk in the smuggling line. He got connected with some of the Cornish smugglers,--Cooper among the rest; and they bought a little vessel of which Cooper was the captain; and my brother, living at a distance, and being connected with merchants, sold the goods. One night!--I shall never forget that night!--a gentleman was driven to seek shelter in our cottage from the snow: he had missed his way.--My father and brother were both out. My father's bedroom on the ground-floor, was vacant: I did not expect him home that night, so I put the gentleman there to sleep.--To sleep! Yes!--It might indeed have been a long sleep!

"My brother returned. I told him Mr. Morley had entrusted me with his name;--he had money, too, he told me,--a large sum. My brother hated the name of Morley: he had been spurned by a Morley:--his love had been rejected with scorn:--he was a man of strong pa.s.sions. The brother of her whom he now hated as much as he had loved before,--the man who had introduced the rich captain to Isabella, and so overturned his hopes of marriage with the lovely creature he had so pa.s.sionately loved, was in his power. Revenge seized hold of him. He called for brandy: he drank deeply, and raved like a madman; then he became more calm. He took Mr.

Morley's stick and examined it: it was a curious stick. I left him still drinking, and retired to my bedroom.

"I knew not the extent of that night's work until the morning; when, oh, horror!--my brother had murdered our father instead of ----! What was to be done? My brother's ready wit hit on a plan. The intended victim was gone; perhaps to inform the authorities. He had worn away the murdered man's hat. His hat with his name in it, was left: it was with his stick the murder had been committed: he was accused and committed. My brother found the bag of money; we fled into Cornwall, changed our names to Freeman, and took up our abode at St. Just: that money enabled us to live comfortably. My brother was clever, and earned money in other ways easily. My confession is finished. My conscience is satisfied. The minds of the Morleys are relieved. When this is read I shall be no more, and my brother and the Coopers will be out of your reach. Search,--sift as you will, you can know no more!--We have outwitted you!--Ha! ha! ha!"

The latter part of the ma.n.u.script was blotted and stained, as if brandy had been spilt over it, and the writing was almost illegible, indicating the unsteadiness of the hand that wrote it.

When Mr. Morley had finished he threw the MS. on the table and exclaimed,--"I had my suspicions of that fellow from the first. Our minds are now set at rest, and we can publish this doc.u.ment to satisfy the public of the perfect innocence of our father, and the double guilt of those wicked, lawless people."

"I think," said Captain Courland, "that it is sufficient that you are satisfied, yourselves, and that the guilty parties have confessed:--the public have forgotten all the circ.u.mstances long ago, and stirring it up again, now, can answer no good end."

"Perhaps you are right sir," replied Mr. Morley, "the guilty wretches have had their reward in this life!"

"What a shocking death it must have been," said Mrs. Courland, with a shudder: "torture and pain the most acute and agonizing. How rarely the guilty escape punishment, even in this life."

"I should like our good friends, the squire and Fowler, to hear this confession," said Frederick, "for they knew the story of the murder, and all the circ.u.mstances connected with it, and felt, I am quite sure, a deep interest in our search after the guilty parties."

"Of course," said the captain;--"they ought to be informed at once; and I have been thinking of inviting them all here. What do you think of it, my dear?" he continued, addressing his wife. "We cannot have so large a party to dinner at our lodgings, of course; but there is no reason why we shouldn't ask them all to dine with us at the hotel."

"I should like it above all things," replied Mrs. Courland, "and, if Frederick will undertake to deliver the invitations, I will write them at once, and invite the whole party for to-morrow. The ladies must come also, or I shall have nothing to do with the party."

"The ladies, by all means," said the captain, as his wife opened her writing-desk.

"I really think I must pet.i.tion for Josiah to be invited, to be entertained by Alice Ann," said Mr. Morley, smiling.

"Of course," said the captain, in high glee: "and that poor boy mustn't be left out. Shiver my topsails!--young sirs--we'll have a jovial party!

I'll go down to the hotel myself in the morning and superintend the selection of the wine: we'll have the very best the landlord has in his cellar.--and plenty of it too.--The squire is a two-bottle man--I'll take my Solomon Davey to that!"

While Mrs. Courland was writing the notes, Mr. Morley took up the MS.

again, and, on turning over another sheet, he exclaimed,--"here's something more!"

All ears were instantly attentive, and he read on:--

"I, Maria Fisher, alias Freeman, as an atonement, in some degree, for my sinful conduct towards her, give and bequeath to Alrina Marshall, formerly known as Alrina Freeman, the daughter of Mrs. Courland of Ashley Hall, all my worldly goods and moneys now in my possession or in the possession of my brother, John Fisher, alias Freeman, belonging to me, and all property of any kind which I may possess at my death; and I hope I shall be pardoned for my sins."

This doc.u.ment was written in a legible hand, as if after due deliberation, and properly signed and executed. It, however, gave very little pleasure to the parties concerned, except that it shewed a shadow of proper feeling on the part of Miss Freeman to make amends for past misconduct.