The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn Part 25

But Petronella shrank away a little, and looked scared at the thought. Hers was one of those timid natures that find it easier to endure even a terrible wrong than to take a bold step to escape from it. The life of the forest might have attracted her, for she loved the freedom of the woodlands, and had no fears of loneliness or privation. But she had heard from Cuthbert of the bands of outlaws and gipsies, of Long Robin and his murderous hatred; and of other perils which she felt she had scarce courage to face. She feared that if she let Cuthbert carry her off she would but prove a burden and a care, whilst the thought of London and the strange relations there filled her with distaste and dread.

"Nay, nay, my brother; I have borne much--I will bear a little more. I love the old Gate House as thou hast never loved it; and perchance after this storm there may be a lull of quiet peace. I should but hamper thee, and hold thee back from that great purpose; and--"

"But Martin Holt, he would welcome thee; and once beneath his roof--"

"Nay, Cuthbert, it might well be that our father would guess whither I had fled, and would come and drag me back. I am not of an age to resist him. And I am a helpless woman, not a man. I have thought many times of flight, but I fear me it would but lead to worse."

"I know not that," answered Cuthbert thoughtfully. "Our uncle Martin is a good man; and, Petronella, remember that whether or no thy brother finds the lost treasure, he holds in his keeping a dowry for thee that will make thee no unworthy mate for Philip Trevlyn when the day comes for him to claim thee as his bride. Nay, hide not thy face, sister."

"Alas, alas, my brother! that day will never come! My father--"

"Nay, courage, sweetheart; our father's power lasts not for ever, and we will be happy yet in spite of him. And, sister mine, we must have kinsfolks somewhere of the house of Wyvern. Our father never speaks to us of any such matters; but hast thou heard aught at the Chase?"

Petronella looked quickly up at him.

"Ay, I have heard them speak of kinsfolk of that family, albeit I heeded not greatly what they said. Are they our kinsfolk likewise?"

"Ay, verily, inasmuch as our grandam was a Wyvern; and there have been Wyverns of two generations that have wed with the Trevlyns, as thou hast heard in the story of the lost treasure, which I have told to thee. Sister, it might be that thou mightest find a refuge with them safer than with mine uncle of the bridge, who might perchance think I asked too much were I to bring my sister to him, albeit he is a kind man and a just; but--"

"But I trust I may not have to flee," said Petronella, with the same air of shrinking that she had shown before. "I have borne so much; surely I can bear the rest, until thou hast found the treasure, and all is changed for us. When thou art rich and great, and high in favour with all, then perchance thou canst prevail even with our stern father, and win his leave to carry hence thy poor little sister. Till then I will strive to remain."

Cuthbert took her hand and held it between his.

"Petronella, I like it not--I like not to leave thee here; but it must be as thou desirest. Only, remember one thing, my sister. I am nigh at hand. I am in the forest, not many miles away; and if things should become worse with thee, thou canst fly to me thither; thou wilt find me, doubtless, in or about the pixies' dell, of which thou hast heard me speak, for it is there that my closest watch will be held. Thinkest thou that thou canst find the place?"

"I trow so; thou hast told me how to do so. Nine miles across the open forest, starting from the Trevlyn oak, with the great beech to the right. If I am forced to fly, I will fly thither by night, and the stars will be my guide. Brother, it is good to feel that thou art near."

"Ay, Petronella, I am glad indeed; for I fear me sometimes that our father--"

"What, Cuthbert?"

"That he must surely be going mad. It is hard to believe he could so persecute his children were it not so, and it is not fitting that thou shouldest dwell beneath the roof of a madman."

The girl s.h.i.+vered slightly, and her dark eyes dilated.

"Thinkest thou so, Cuthbert? Sure I had thought it was his wrath at finding that we loved not the faith in which he has brought us up; that first thou and then I have learned to find comfort in the holy Book he has denied to us, and to find that there be other holy things than our priests have taught us, and purer truths than methinks they know themselves. I thought that was why his anger burned so hotly against us. That was his quarrel with thee, and methinks he must have suspected me, else would he scarce have dogged my steps as he did."

"It may be so," answered Cuthbert; "but I fear me he has brooded over his wrongs and his sins until he is well-nigh beside himself. My sister, let not thy patience lead thee into peril. Remember what I have said, and whither I may be found. I will take thy message to Philip. He shall be bidden not to anger thy father further by seeking thee. After that it is for thee to decide whether thou canst still live in such solitude as must then be thine at the Gate House, or whether thou wilt fly to me in the forest."

"I will remember," answered Petronella, rising to her feet; for even here, and at this hour, and with her brother for her companion, she dared not linger long. "Tell my kind aunt that the Testament she gave me is the solace and happiness of my life. I think of her words every day, and they are written on my heart. Though I see her not, my blessing rests upon her. I would that she could know what peace and joy she has helped to bring into my lonely lot."

"I will tell her," answered Cuthbert, as he took the slight form into his arms. "She will be rejoiced to hear it, I doubt not. I too, my sister, have shared some of that peace myself. I have found that the faith in which we were reared, albeit it holds much of golden truth, has been so overlaid by artifice of man that the gold is sadly tarnished. I have some deep love for it yet, but I love better the purer faith that I have learned from the written Word of G.o.d, and have heard from the lips of G.o.dly men of the Established Church of the land. I have seen and heard much in yon great city, and methinks that all creeds have much that is true--much that is the same; but it seems the nature of man to fight and wrangle over the differences, instead of rejoicing in the unity of a common faith; wherefore there be misery and strife and jealousy abounding, and the adversaries may well blaspheme. But I came not to talk such matters with thee, sweet sister; they baffle the wisdom of the wisest. Keep fast hold of the peace thou hast found, and let no man take it from thee. I would I lived not in the midst of such weary war of words. There be times when the heart sickens at it, and one is fain to lay all aside sooner than have to own allegiance to any one party, when one sees the bad as well as the good of all."

Petronella's eyes were wide with astonishment and perplexity. She felt as though she had a very Solon for a brother when Cuthbert talked after this serious fas.h.i.+on. But she too had heard from the Trevlyns of the Chase somewhat of the burning questions of the day, and she was not wholly uninstructed in the matter.

"That is one boon granted to us weak women," she said, with a shadowy little smile. "We are not called upon to take part in the world's battlefield. We may think our own thoughts, and go our quiet way in the main unheeded and unmolested. But I am glad that thou dost see as I do, my brother. It is sweet to find accord in those we love. And now I must be gone; I dare not linger longer. Heaven bless and keep thee ever! I shall carry my daily load more lightly for this happy hour spent together."

Cuthbert kissed her many times before he let her go, reminded her again of the place where he himself might be found, and then walked slowly with her towards the old Gate House, only letting her go when she desired it, and watching her glide towards the little door with a sense of sinking at heart which he could hardly explain.

As for Petronella, she stole within the door, which she bolted behind her, as she had found it, and felt her way up the narrow winding stairs that led to the ground floor of the house. The postern door was below that level, and had a little stair of its own leading to the house, from which it was again shut off by another door at the top. When Petronella had stolen out to meet Cuthbert, she had left this door open, so as to avoid all needless noise; but when she reached the head of the stairs she found it closed, and her heart gave a sudden throb of dismay as she stood quite still listening and wondering.

Surely she had left it open? her memory had not deceived her! No; she remembered debating the matter with herself and deciding to do so. Could it have shut by itself afterwards? She could scarcely believe it. It was a heavy oaken door, that moved ponderously on its hinges; and the night was calm and breathless. No current of air could have blown upon it. Had some person from above come down and shut it after her? and if so, who could that person be? and had he suspected that she had slipped out into the night, and for what purpose?

With a wildly-beating heart and a frame that felt ready to sink into the ground with fear, Petronella tried the latch of the door, and found it yield to her hand. She pressed it open and then stood suddenly still, a gasp of terror and dismay escaping her; for there, in the middle of the hall, the moonlight falling full upon his tall rugged figure, stood her father, waiting with folded arms for his truant daughter, a look upon his stern face that she s.h.i.+vered to behold.

"So, girl!" he exclaimed, making one stride forward and catching the frail wrist in a vice-like grasp which almost extorted a cry of pain--"so, my daughter, thou hast come in from this midnight tryst with thy lover! And what dost thou think is the reward a father bestows upon a daughter who leaves his house at this dead hour of the night to meet the man he has bidden her eschew for ever?"

Petronella's agitation was so great that she was well-nigh swooning. Her nerves had been on the strain for some time. The excitement of seeing Cuthbert again, of hearing his story and telling her own, had been considerable. And now to be confronted by a furious father, and accused of having broken her solemn pledge, and of having met her lover at an hour of the night when no virtuous maiden would dream of such a tryst, was more than she could bear. Slipping to her knees, she laid her hand upon her father's robe, and clutching hold of it, as if for support, she gasped out the one word:

"Pardon! pardon!"

"Thou mayest well sue for pardon, false jade; but to win it is another matter. Say, vile girl, whom I blush to call my daughter--say how oft hast thou thus gone forth to meet thy lover?"

"Father--father, revile me not thus!" cried the girl, beside herself with agitation, fearful of betraying Cuthbert's near presence to the Gate House, lest the angry man should contrive to do him some injury or gain some hold upon him, yet terrified at the accusations levelled at her own head, which seemed to bear some show of reason. "Father, have pity; drive me not to despair, as thou didst drive my brother. I am so lonely and so miserable. Pity me! pardon me!"

"Answer my question, base girl. How oft hast thou done this deed before tonight?"

"Never before, my father, never before! Ah, do not be too hard upon me! I have done no wrong--I swear it!"

"Keep thy false oaths for thy false lover!" cried the angry man; "I will have none of them. Thou hast pa.s.sed me thy word once, and I believed thee, and thou hast played me false. I will never believe thee again--never, never! Thou hast made thy bed, and thou shalt lie upon it."

And with that the angry man flung the kneeling girl from him with such violence that she fell against the wall, and striking her head sharply, sank stunned and unconscious at his feet.

"Serve her right well, the false minx, the evil jade!" spoke the heartless father, as he strode back to his own room without so much as going across to the girl to know if she were severely hurt. "She will be safe enow for this night. She will not seek to go forth again. She shall smart for this bare-faced defiance. I will not be set at naught by both of my children. I will not--I will not!"

When Petronella awoke from what seemed to her a long dream, she found herself in her own bed, tended by the deaf-and-dumb servant, who was sitting beside her and watching her with wistful glances. A glad smile lighted up the woman's face as Petronella made a sign that showed she recognized her; but no speech was possible between them, and the girl was too weary to care to ask questions by means of the series of signals long since established between them. She turned her eyes from the light, and fell asleep again like a tired child.

For several days her life was more like one long sleep than anything else. It was some while before she remembered any of the events immediately preceding this mysterious attack of illness; and when she did remember, the events of that night seemed to stand out in fearful colours.

Yet there was one thought of comfort: Cuthbert was not far away. Since her father had openly accused her of vileness, deceit, and treachery; since he had struck her down so cruelly, and had not even come to see her in her helplessness and weakness, must not Cuthbert's surmise be the true one--must he not surely be mad? She could see by the old woman's cowering looks if the door moved on its hinges, how much she feared the terrible master; and when Petronella was sufficiently recovered to be able to enter into the kind of conversation by means of signals which in some sort resembled the finger talking of more modern times, she learned that indeed her father was in a more black and terrible mood than ever before, and that old Martha herself went in fear of her life.

Bit by bit the old woman made the girl understand what had happened. Shortly after the day upon which she had found her young mistress lying cold and insensible on the stone floor of the hall, Philip Trevlyn had come to the Gate House, and had demanded an interview with the owner. Right well did both the women know the nature of that errand, though none had been present but the young lover and the enraged father. There could be no manner of doubt but that, incited to it by Cuthbert's tale, he had come to make a definite offer of marriage, and doubtless had tried to bribe the avaricious old man by some tempting offer of gold or land. But whatever had been the terms in which the proposal was couched, anger had proved a stronger pa.s.sion with Nicholas than greed. Philip had been driven from the house with a fury that threatened actual violence, and for hours afterwards Nicholas had raged up and down the house like a wild beast in a cage. He had once gone up to his daughter's room with a face so full of fury that the old woman had feared he meant to fall upon her then and there; but even he had been calmed by a glance at the still, unconscious face upon the pillow, so white and bloodless and death-like; and the man had gone down with a quieter footfall than he had mounted, but had been brooding in sullen fury ever since, so that the old servant had feared to approach him even to bring him his needful food. She had spent almost all her time up with her young mistress, afraid to leave her by night or day lest some mischance should befall her.

All this the girl gradually understood as she became strong enough to take in the silent talk of the old woman. She knew that she must have lain some days in this state of unconsciousness, for the trees were greener than they had been when she had seen them last, and the sunlight was fast gaining its golden summer-like glow. There was something exhilarating in the beauty and richness of reviving nature, and even Petronella's wan cheek kindled into a flush of pleasure as she looked forth once again upon the fair world around her dismal home.

Home? no, that was no longer the word for it. Slowly but surely the knowledge had come to her that Cuthbert had been right, and that this house could no longer be a home to her. Right well did she credit now, what had never entered her mind before, that her father had brooded and brooded until his very mind had become unhinged. He was not master of his words when he spoke to her as he had done upon that terrible night; he was not master of his actions when he had flung her away and left her lying unconscious on the stone floor. There was even some slight comfort in this thought, though it settled for ever the doubt in her mind. She must leave the Gate House so soon as she was strong enough to walk, and she must find her brother in the forest, and place herself beneath his care.

The old servant approved the plan. She herself could find a refuge at Trevlyn Chase; but that house would be no shelter for her young mistress. Her father's authority would be enough to carry her back into captivity; and what her fate would be, were she to have escaped him once and be again brought back, was a thought to shudder at.

"I must go back to Cuthbert," she said to herself, as she looked over the fair landscape, and thought longingly of the cool, dim woods, and the free life of the forest. Her own home was nothing now but a prison house. She knew that if she presented herself before her father sound and whole, she would at once be placed under some close restraint that would effectually hinder her from carrying out her plan. He would sooner kill her, as she verily believed, than permit her such liberty as might enable her to meet by accident or design any member of the household from the Chase. If she were to succeed in her escape, the attempt must be made whilst her father still believed her too feeble to stir from her bed; after that she would be too closely watched for it to be possible.

The old woman entered into this scheme with alacrity and zeal. Petronella kept to her bed; and when Nicholas Trevlyn demanded by signs how it fared with his daughter, he was answered by solemn shakings of the head. If he mounted the stairs to see with his own eyes how she was, he saw her lying upon the bed with closed eyes and wan face, and would smile with an evil smile and mutter that she was safe enough now--safe enough now.

Yet each day hope and the good food the shrewd old woman contrived to provide for her did its work upon Petronella's frail body, and she grew better every hour. Indeed, after some while she felt stronger than she had done for many weeks before her illness; and in due time even the fond old woman began to see that there was no need to postpone longer the scheme of escape.

It was a simple little scheme, yet one which promised success if carefully carried out. Nicholas Trevlyn was accustomed to take night by night a posset of mead, brewed in some particular way by Martha. She was, upon the night planned as the one for the escape of Petronella, to add to this posset some drops of a concoction prepared by herself from herbs, which would infallibly produce sound and deep sleep within two hours. The master of the house asleep, all would be simple. The two women would sally forth by the postern door, and make for the forest. With the first light of the dawn, Martha would seek the shelter of Trevlyn Chase, whilst Petronella sought her brother in the pixies' dell. Nicholas Trevlyn would awake the next morning to find himself alone in the old Gate House that he had made intolerable for any other inmate.