now i had never seen the elder john polperro, but i remembered his son, and as i rode along i thought how unlike the two men were. so unlike were they, indeed, that no one on seeing them together would suspect them to be related. i paid but little attention to this, however, but rather set to wondering why he was going to see hugh boscawen. had news of any sort reached him? knew he aught of the plots afoot? after this i felt certain i had seen the man somewhere. some of the features i could not recall; but the eyes and the protruding brows above them were not ordinary. the possessor of those keen gray penetrating orbs was not of the common type of humanity.

"where have i seen those eyes before?" i thought; and then my side burned and ached fearfully, just as i had felt it immediately after otho killigrew had shot at me. my blood also coursed madly through my veins, and i became much excited.

"uncle anthony!" i said aloud, and i was sure i was not mistaken.

presently i cooled down again, and i was able to think calmly. here then were the facts. he was visiting hugh boscawen under the guise of the elder john polperro. he had, doubtless, become acquainted with the success of otho's search[pg 345] after me, and had gone to tregothnan to confer with the master thereof concerning the coming of the pretender. moreover, i was sure that he would not go there unless some subtle plan had formed itself in his cunning old brain. i knew that hugh boscawen was no match for him, and that unless he were checkmated the king's cause would perchance be ruined.

this being so what ought i to do? my first impulse was to ride back to tregothnan and inform hugh boscawen of my conviction; but i refrained. i remembered the kind of man with whom i had to deal. uncle anthony would know of my coming, and would naturally guess that i had penetrated his disguise. this would allow him time to resort to other means in order to carry out his purposes. after this i thought of writing a note to boscawen, telling him to arrest uncle anthony; but this i could not do. i remembered the old man's kindness to nancy, i thought of the evident love he had for her. no, no—i could not do this, even although i knew him to be the most dangerous plotter in the country. and yet i dared not allow him to have his way with the man who was championing the cause of the reigning king. after much thinking, therefore, i wrote a note in the gatekeeper's lodge and commissioned the man to take it to his master. this is what i wrote:

"act as though your visitor of this morning, who gives his name at your lodge as john polperro, had not called. i have powerful reasons for this. at[pg 346] the same time listen to him as though you desired to fall in with his plans. his information is not trustworthy, of this i am sure.

"roger trevanion."

this note i reflected would frustrate uncle anthony's designs, but would not lead boscawen to arrest the old man or do him any injury. so i mounted my horse again and rode northward. i had no definitely formed plans of my own, except that, despite the danger, i would go to restormel and seek to find mistress nancy. i could not help believing that otho killigrew, notwithstanding the critical work he had to do, would still find time to hunt down my love and work her harm. that he knew of her being at restormel was manifested by what he had said to me, and i was sore afraid. moreover, i had promised hugh boscawen that i would meet his men in the woods, near the only spot a boat could well land, at veryan bay. he had, he told me, arranged with his henchmen that they should gather as many as possible of those who had taken up arms for king george at this place, and that they should come as far as possible, stealthily and after dark. his hope was that, though the information i had given him came very late, at least two thousand men would be lying among the woods at eleven o'clock that night.

as i have said, the danger was doubtless great in going to restormel. if the killigrews could get hold of me i should fare badly. and yet this very danger might make my entrance possible.[pg 347] they would never think i should venture there that night, and thus they might be unprepared for me. moreover, i hoped that they would all be away at veryan bay, regarding the welfare of a hapless maid as unworthy of their notice.

anyhow, i made my way towards restormel, and having fastened the horse i had taken from otho to a tree some distance from the house, i crept silently towards it. no light shone from the windows, no sound reached my ears. seemingly the place was deserted.

i strained both ears and eyes without avail; it would seem as though no form of life existed behind the dark walls of the house. did not this mean that otho was still ignorant of the whereabouts of nancy? might she not be still safe and well in that part of the house, the secrets of which were unknown to the killigrews. i had reason to know how self-reliant and far-seeing she was, and i knew how faithful and shrewd was amelia lanteglos her serving-maid. my heart beat loud with joy at the thought.

creeping nearer and nearer the road, i determined to try and find the door from which i had come early that morning. it was hidden by evergreens and difficult to find, but i fancied that if i went there and knocked, either she or old adam coad would come to me. in any case, i hoped i should hear news concerning her, for, as may be imagined, my heart was torn with many fears, especially when i remembered what otho had said.

presently i stopped, for i heard approaching[pg 348] footsteps; they came not from the house, but from the lodge gates. i listened intently, and before long heard the murmur of men's voices.

"you join us not then?" it was otho killigrew who spoke.

"no, i am no fighter. i do not see what i should gain now that the affair has gone so far; besides it matters not to me who is king."

i detected young peter trevisa's voice, and instantly my mind was on the alert. what had these two worthies been planning? i remembered that treviscoe was but a few miles from restormel. had otho been visiting the trevisas? if so, nancy had been the subject of their discussion.

"but the other matter is settled?"

"yes."

"then good-night. i have much to do ere midnight. but i can trust you? and you can trust your men?"

"to be sure. they will do aught that i tell them."

"mind, if you betray me or fail me——" this was spoken in a threatening voice.

"i will see that my part is done, if you do yours."

"and i will."

the men separated. their words conveyed but little meaning to me. that together they had concocted some plan concerning nancy i was sure.

i saw otho stand still, as if thinking deeply, after young peter trevisa had gone; then he[pg 349] made his way towards the shrubbery through which i had come early that morning. silently i followed. i ill liked the part i was playing, but i thought of my love, and determined that i would do all a man could. for my love grew stronger each hour, even although i had no hope that she i loved cared aught for me. how my heart hungered for some token of a possible affection for me no words of mine can write. again and again i tried to comfort myself with the thought that did she not care for me more than ordinary she would never have braved the dangers of helping me to escape from launceston castle, that she would not have been so anxious for my welfare. but i remembered again how she had told me that what she had done for me she would have done for any one who rendered a service. nevertheless, i knew that if she could never care for me, i had still given my life to her, and that until my limbs lay cold in death i must seek to serve her. for when a man who is past thirty really loves for the first time, it is love forever. true, i loved my country, and i had espoused the cause of liberty and truth, because i could not help it, but nancy's welfare was more to me than these.

thus i could not help following otho killigrew, and although my wound pained me, i knew that strength would not fail.

presently otho walked down the very path along which i had come, and made his way towards the door which nancy had thought secret. evidently he knew the road well, for he hesitated not. having reached the door, he knocked three[pg 350] times, just as mistress nancy had told me to knock. what did this mean? how did any one know of this?

i did not spend much time in surmising concerning the matter, for i knew that otho would have many ways of finding out things unknown to most men.

the door opened as if by magic. i heard no footsteps nor noise of any sort. evidently the sound of his knock must have reached some one who knew the secret of the opening thereof.

without hesitating a second he entered, and immediately the door closed behind him, leaving me outside. at this moment i knew not what to do. i dared not make a sound, for i knew not who might be near. perhaps a dozen men might be lurking near the house, and if i made a noise they would shoot me down like a rabbit or take me prisoner. and yet i longed to know whither otho went. i wanted to understand his purpose in entering. i reflected that nancy must be within. if the killigrews had not discovered that this was her hiding-place, she would naturally remain there as she had said, and if they had found her out, no place could have served their purpose better. had she opened the door quickly, thinking it was i who had knocked? had she been expecting to hear my footsteps? the thought filled me with joy even in spite of my anxiety; and yet i stood among the shrubs powerless and alone.

presently i heard the sound of voices. i could detect no words, but i knew people talked near me. their voices became louder and louder, and[pg 351] by and by a cry like that of a woman in pain reached me. this came from within the house, and once i was sure i detected otho's voice, not soft and gentle-spoken as was generally the case, but harsh and strident.

how i restrained myself i do not know. indeed i feel sure i should have attempted to break down the door had i not seen it open, seemingly without hands, as it had opened before. a minute later otho appeared again. he did not look around, but hurried along the crooked path between the shrubs. now and then i heard him laugh in his low guttural way, as though he had won a victory. he passed close beside me, so close that i could easily have stabbed him to death before he had time to defend himself. why i did not, i do not know. since then i have wished that i had. but i have always loathed striking an unprepared man. so i let him go, and shortly after i heard the sound of a horse galloping northward.

when these sounds died away, i made my way to the door, and knocked three times, even as otho had knocked. but without effect. although i listened intently no sound of any sort reached me. the noise i made echoed and re-echoed through the house, but no notice was taken. again i gave the signal agreed upon by mistress nancy and myself; but the house might be empty for all the answer i got.

now this troubled me sorely, for i was afraid lest my love should have suffered some ill at the hands of otho, and the closed door made it [pg 352]impossible for me to render any help even if it were necessary. but i would not be baulked. rather than go away in suspense i would break down the door, even though i brought the whole race of the killigrews to the spot.

i therefore struck the door loudly, and although i thought i detected some sounds of movement within, i still remained outside. so i put my shoulder against the iron-studded barrier and pressed hardly, and although it yielded somewhat the bolts held firmly. my action, however, must have told those within that i was determined to enter, for at this time i heard footsteps coming towards me.

"no, you ca'ant come in," said a voice from within.

"amelia—amelia lanteglos," i said aloud.

"wait a minnit, maaster roger trevanion," was the reply, spoken as i thought excitedly, almost feverishly. then a bolt drew back and the door opened.

"forgive me," said amelia lanteglos, "but i thought it was—somebody else. where did 'ee come from, sur?"

"i can't tell you now, amelia," i said; "is your mistress safe?"

"saafe. iss, sure; but she've bin purtly frightened."

"yes."

"maaster otho mimicked the knock. three times ya knaw, and i opened the door. she ded think t'was he knockin' again."

"that is why i was refused admittance?"

[pg 353]

"iss, sur, that's ev et."

"can you take me to your mistress now?"

"iss, sur; come this way."

i followed the maid along dark corridors in perfect silence, she muttering and laughing in a strange way; i feverishly excited, my side paining me sorely, yet feeling no weakness.

presently she stopped, and then knocked timidly at the door of an apartment.

the only response that i heard was a piteous cry and a sob.

amelia knocked again.

"i do not wish to be seen. i will not open the door. you can force your way in if you dare, but you do not come here again with my consent."

and now there was nothing plaintive in the tones of her voice, it was rather angry—defiant.

"i'll maake sa bould as to oppen the door," whispered amelia; "she do think tes maaster otho," and without further ado she suited the action to the word, i entered the apartment, and amelia left us together.

a lamp stood on the table, which was in the centre of the room, so that i could see my love plainly. she stood as far away from the door as possible, and her back was turned upon me. i caught sight of one of her hands, and saw that the fist was constantly clenching and unclenching itself. evidently the poor maid was sore distraught, and the sight of her sorrow rendered me dumb.

"do you think, otho killigrew," she said[pg 354] slowly, still keeping her back towards me, "that you can change my mind? you say i am in your power, and that i have no friend to help me; well, if you had a spark of manhood in you, you would cease to molest me, for you would know that your very presence is loathsome. now go, and leave me to find what peace i can."

her words filled my heart with joy and sorrow at the same time. joy, because it was not i who was loathsome to her; sorrow, because she stood there helpless and alone, and because i felt myself unable to help her. and thus all i could think upon to say, and that in a very husky voice, was:

"mistress nancy."

she turned herself round quickly, and i saw her eyes gleam with the fires of hatred and anger. her face was pale and hard, her whole body was rigid; but as her eyes caught mine, a change came over her as quick as a flash of light. in a second her eyes became soft and humid, her hands became unclenched, her form lost its rigidity, and a rosy flush mantled her face. it was as though a cold cruel night in january had changed to a smiling june morning.

her lips parted to speak, but she only uttered one word, but that word opened the gates of heaven to me.

"roger!"

it was a cry of surprise, of infinite relief, of untold joy.

i opened my arms. i could not help doing so, and i am sure she saw that my eyes burned with[pg 355] the fires of love. i took two steps towards her, my arms still extended.

"nancy," i said.

then she came towards me and fell upon my shoulder.

"he told me you were in the power of the killigrews," she sobbed, "and that to-night you would die."

i held her to my heart a moment, knowing nothing, understanding nothing, save that i was in heaven. i had never hoped for this. did such a mad fancy enter my mind, i had dispelled it as something as impossible as heaven might be to a lost soul. oh! but i never knew the meaning of life or joy until that moment. she my dear, dear maid, lay with her head pillowed on my shoulder, while her shining hair mingled with my own unkempt locks.

"and did you care?" i said like one in a dream, for truly my joy made me unable to say the words that were wise.

at this she started back, like one ashamed. i saw the tears trickling down her cheeks, and a look which i could not comprehend come into her eyes.

"oh, it is you, master roger trevanion!" she cried. "forgive me, i—i did not know. i think i—i am overwrought. you will pay no heed to the foolish words and action of—of one—who—who knew not what she was doing."

but i was eager, fearless, determined now. knowing my own unworthiness as i did, i could not forget the look in her eyes as she uttered my name.

[pg 356]

"nay, nancy, my love, turn not away!" i cried.

"but—but—i must—i—i did not know. oh! what must you think of me?" she sobbed like one ashamed.

"i think you are the best and purest maid god ever sent on earth," i answered. "i—i—o my love, come to me again!"

but she stood still, her hands trembling and her bosom heaving.

"you—you must forget my foolishness, forget it forever," she said wildly. "i was so afraid, i did not know what i was doing!"

"no, i shall never forget it," i replied, "never, never! a man cannot forget heaven, even though he may have felt it only while he draws one breath. o my dear, dear maid; come to me again. i love you better than name, home, liberty, life. i have never dared to tell you before. i am so unworthy, but i love you, love you!"

"but, but——" she cried piteously.

"no, no," i said, "let there be no buts. i cannot bear that you should turn away from me now. i have loved you for many weary, weary days—hopelessly, hopelessly. i dared not tell you till now—but do not repulse me."

"and do you want me—really want me? that is, you—you do not despise me because——"

"mistress nancy—nancy, my dear one," i said, growing bolder each moment, although i wot not what to say, for truly my love made me as foolish as a child, "all my life is bound up in you; i care[pg 357] for naught but you, and i mind nothing now you are near me. even my wound hurts me not one whit now."

"your wound?" she cried. "what wound?"

"oh, it is nothing," i answered, vexed with myself for being such a fool as to mention it; "my side was only grazed by the pistol-shot."

"what pistol-shot? when? where?"

"it was only a scratch—this morning—when—when otho fired at me this morning."

"then you are hurt, you are wounded?"

"no, not now. o my love, will you not come to me?"

then she rushed to me. "but, but you are not—that is, you are not——"

she did not finish the sentence, for she lay sobbing on my shoulder again, just as a babe might sob on its mother's breast.

"and do you care?" i said again. "oh, will you not speak to me once more? will you not tell me what—what i long to hear?"

"you are safe—that is, you are sure you are not hurt—that is very badly?"

"no, no; i mind nothing. i am quite well. i shall be happier than words can tell if you—you will only tell me you love me."

"i—i am afraid i told you too soon," and this she said with a laugh that had a sob in it, but the sob contained no sorrow, and still i was not satisfied.

"but my love, tell me," i cried, "tell me really, for i shall never be content until i hear the words from your own lips."

[pg 358]

"oh, i cannot, i am so ashamed," she sobbed. "i did not mean you should know until you—had first told me—that is,—o roger, i am so happy!"

and after that i could doubt no longer, for she lay in my arms contentedly and as if she knew no fear, and then i cared for nothing. the dangers which surrounded me i minded no more than the old knight in armour might mind the threats of children, for although i was homeless and nearly friendless, my heart throbbed with a joy which until then i never believed possible.

"roger," she said again presently, "i am so ashamed, but i could not help it, and—and i am happy; but—but—tell me again what you told me just now."