All the events which I have just described happened so suddenly that I had been able to think of nothing beyond obtaining my liberty. On reaching the high-road, however, I began to cast about for my course of procedure. Knowing that I should probably be followed, I had to decide quickly, but although I racked my wits sorely, I could settle upon nothing that pleased me. For, foolish as it may seem, no sooner was I away from Endellion, than I wanted to be back again, and now that it seemed impossible for me to keep my bargain with Peter Trevisa, I felt more than ever determined to take the maid Nancy Molesworth to Treviscoe. I found myself constantly pitying her too, and wondering how she would fare among the Killigrews. My first determination to ride towards London I abandoned, and so I rode on dejectedly until I bethought me of a sentence which Benet Killigrew had let drop about a priest coming from Padstow who was to wed Mistress Nancy to Otho. This decided me, and without more ado I touched Chestnut's side with my heels, and rode towards St. Enedock, from which I had heard I should be able to get a ferry-boat to take me across the Camel River to Padstow. Although the road was none of the best, I reached St. Enedock in a little more than[Pg 126] an hour; and then I began to look about me to obtain the ferry-boat.

Did I not believe I was hardly pressed for time, I should have stayed at this village for some time, for it was talked about throughout the county. It had been averred that the whole place was often covered with sand, while the church was so much buried that the people often had a difficulty in entering. Indeed report had it that the vicar only conducted a service therein once a year so as to be able to claim his tithes, and in order to do this he had to climb in at one of the windows.

Although it was but two hours past midnight I succeeded in waking the ferryman, who lived in a hut close by the river, and after some argument succeeded in persuading him to take me across. Long before we had reached the little landing-place at Padstow, I found that he was somewhat of a character, and possessed strong religious views.

"I can see you are a staunch Protestant," I said after a good deal of talking on his part.

"Down with Popery I do zay, sur," was his response.

"And yet one of your great families are Papists."

"You do main the Rosecarricks."

"No."

"Who then; the Killigrews?"

"Yes."

"They belong to th' ould Sur Nick, and the young Killigrews be sons of hell," he cried with energy.

[Pg 127]

"Supposing one of them were to come enquiring of you whether I came across here?" I asked.

He looked at me keenly.

"Be you a Protestant?" he asked.

"Sound," I replied.

"And p'r'aps you doan't want me to know who you be?" he queried slyly.

"You are a clever man," I answered.

"Then they shaan't know," he said with a grin, "onnly you must know, sur, I allays charge double in sich cases."

I laughed, and promised him this, feeling myself in fortune's way.

"Any time, sur, night or day, I'm yer sarvent," he cried when I had paid him his money. "My brother do work the ferry from this side, sur, and 'ee's ov the saame opinions as I be. I'll spaik to un, sur. I'll tell un 'bout ee. You can allays depend on we, sur."

I found Padstow to be an ugly little fishing village, while the inn to which I went provided but poor accommodation, even after I had spent a good half-hour in arousing the landlord. However Chestnut was well stabled and foddered, so I minded but little, especially as I found the innkeeper willing to talk.

I was not long in discovering that only one Papist priest lived at Padstow, and that very few of the people were of his persuasion. Indeed, although the priest lodged with a Papist family in the town, he spent much of his time in visiting the few Catholic families in the neighbourhood. He went often to the Arundells at Lanherne, to the[Pg 128] Rosecarricks, and to the Killigrews at Endellion.

"Do the people hate him?" I asked.

"That they doan't," replied the innkeeper; "he's the jolliest ould chap you ever zeed. I tell 'ee, sur, ef oal the priests 'ad a-bin like he, I doan't b'leeve we Cornish people wud 'ave changed our religion years agone."

After learning all I could from him, I went to bed, determined to find the priest next day, and discover his relations with the Killigrews. Although I little expected it, I fell asleep almost immediately, nor did I wake until late the following morning, when the landlord came to my door asking "whether I would 'ave a scrowled salt pilchard, 'am rasher, or conger pie for my breakfast."

As soon as I could I started out to find the priest, but on going to the house at which he stayed I found that he would not be home until night. He had gone to Lanherne the previous day, on urgent business, but had bade the woman prepare for his coming about nine o'clock. This gave me time to look about me, and prepare for his coming.

Much as I disliked appearing in a disguise, I saw that I should defeat my own purposes if I presented myself to the priest as Roger Trevanion. I therefore bought a suit of homely garments but such as a gentleman might wear on holiday occasions. I was also able to purchase a good sword, which done I felt myself ready to meet the priest. It was therefore with much impatience that I waited until nine o'clock, the hour when he[Pg 129] was supposed to arrive; then remembering that probably he would want food after his journey I decided to put off my visit until half an hour later. For it is well known that a man is more inclined to be trustful and friendly after a meal than before. It was turned half-past nine, therefore, before I presented myself at his lodgings. I was immediately shown into the room in which he sat.

"What want you of me, my son?" he asked.

"I wish to know when you could perform the marriage rite, father," I asked, noting the friendly and unsuspicious way with which his eyes rested on me.

"Ha," he said kindly, "then you are one of the few faithful ones yet to be found in the country. You look on marriage as a sacrament, and not a mere legal business like the heretics of these parts."

"I trust so, father. When could you wed us?"

"Is the maid here in Padstow?" he asked.

"Nay," I replied. "She is at present with heretics, but she is of the true faith."

"What is her name, my son?"

Then I told him a tale I had been weaving through the day, and which was so plausible that he did not appear to doubt it.

"I could wed you to-morrow," he said at length, for it will be remembered that this took place in 1745, eight years before the famous law passed by Lord Hardwicke, through whose influence it was decreed that banns of marriage must be publicly announced in the parish church in order for the ceremony to be legal.

[Pg 130]

"I do not think I could bring her here to-morrow," I said cautiously.

"Then I am afraid you will have to wait a few days, my son," he replied.

"Why father?" I asked.

"Because to-morrow night I go to the Killigrews at Endellion, and shall stay there three or four days."

"You know when you will return from Endellion, I suppose?" I asked quietly.

"I shall stay no longer than four days," was his reply; "at the end of that time I must return."

"So if I came to you after that time, all would be well?"

"Yes; but speak not of it, my son, we of the true faith are sorely harried in this country. Cornish people love not the Stuarts, although in some countries their return is longed for. Until the right time comes, we must be cautious."

I knew all I desired now, and should be able to act accordingly. My journey had not been in vain, and before long I left him, my head all a-whirl with many thoughts. I waited not an hour longer at Padstow, and not wishing to cross the river again by means of the ferry, I determined to ride to Wadebridge, and from thence make my way to the village of St. Kew, where I could leave Chestnut, and then go afoot to Endellion, which was only two miles away.

This I did, passing through Wadebridge without any one noticing me, and arriving at St. Kew about five o'clock in the morning. After breakfast I walked to Endellion and looked carefully[Pg 131] around me, for I was again in the Killigrews' country. There were but a few houses in the village, and I could easily discover what I wanted to know, if I cared to ask of the cottagers; but this I would not do, for it is well known that people with little to interest them talk much about what any stranger may say. I therefore waited until after eight o'clock, and then to my delight I saw Jennifer Lanteglos leave one of the cottages, and make her way towards the fields near. This was what I desired; so, unseen by her and by the cottagers, I followed. When she had passed through two fields I overtook her and spoke kindly.

"Whither away, Jennifer my fine maid?" I asked.

She gave a start. "Plaise, sur, I be going to teel taetis" (till potatoes), she replied like one in fear.

"You remember me, Jennifer?" I queried, for the girl seemed too frightened to lift her eyes to mine.

"Oa iss, sur. I've 'eerd 'bout 'ee. Do 'ee be careful, sur, do 'ee."

"Hath Amelia been home lately?" I asked.

"Aw iss, laast night, sur."

"Did she tell you aught?"

"Iss, sur. She towld me 'bout you, sur."

"And what thought she about me?"

"She 'ardly knawed what to think, sur, 'cept that you be a braave strong gentleman."

"And did she tell you what her mistress thought about me?"

The girl shook her head.

[Pg 132]

"Look you, Jennifer, I want to see your sister to-night."

"Doan't 'ee try to, sur. They be purtly maazed weth ............