Amelia did not immediately answer my question, but continued to laugh like one in high spirits. "He wa'ant come fur!" she repeated; and after we had gone on, it may have been a mile or two, I stopped and listened again, and this time there were no following footsteps.

"Now we must ride quick," said the maid.

"How! what use will it be?" I asked almost angrily. "Clement's horse will be as good as either of yours."

"Iss, but his hoss is drunk!" laughed Amelia.

"Drunk?" I cried.

"Iss, drunk. When I zeed you go into the kitchen, and tried to git into a row weth Maaster Clement, I minded a trick I once seed at Endellion Church town. So I tould the chap that took your 'osses to draw me a gallon of beer. He axed me questions 'bout et, but I knawed 'ow to git over 'ee."

"And did the horse drink it?"

"Drink et! I shud think he ded. He wos thusty and sooped up every drap. Aw I shud like to see un now;" and the maid laughed again.

[Pg 211]

In spite of everything I joined her. It was purely a village girl's trick, and well carried out. A thirsty horse will drink a quantity of beer, and generally a few minutes after becomes light-headed and unable to walk straight.

"You are a clever girl, Amelia," I said again, "and you are right in saying we must ride quickly. Clement will find out the trick, and will follow us on foot."

"We've got the wind in our back," she replied, "zo ef we git a mile or so ahead, the sound of our 'osses wa'ant reach he."

So we rode hard until we came to Summercourt. Here there were several branch roads, and so far as I could see no one was stirring. Even although Clement followed on foot, he would have great difficulty in finding which way we had gone.

"Which way shall we go?" I asked of Mistress Nancy.

"Do you think it will be safe for us to go to Polperro?" she asked hesitatingly.

"I think so," I replied, although my heart was sore at saying this. "These Killigrews will know your whereabouts, and as a consequence there will be no watchers at Polperro."

"And you will take me there safely?—that is," she continued, as though she were correcting herself, "you think you can?"

"Oh yes, I can," I replied; "and I will take you whither you will."

"Then perhaps we had better go there—I know of no other place."

[Pg 212]

She spoke plaintively, and as I thought hesitatingly. I longed to offer her a home at Trevanion, but I dared not.

"It is well," I replied, as cheerfully as I could; "there is just another matter we may as well settle, however. Shall we ride there on our horses, or shall we go by water?"

"What do you mean?" she asked anxiously.

"Polperro's house is close to the sea, is it not?" I asked.

"Yes—that is, I believe so."

"Well, if we were to ride to Veryan Bay, we could get a boat and sail from there."

"And is that a better way?"

"You shall decide, if you please," was my reply. "From here to Veryan is, perchance, twelve miles. I do not imagine that the Killigrews would suspect us of going there; so even if Clement should try and follow us with another horse, I do not think he would take that course. He would rather imagine that we should make for Polperro by road."

She was silent for a few seconds, then she told Amelia to ride behind us out of earshot. At this my heart fluttered wildly, for I thought she had something of importance to say to me. For a few minutes we rode side by side without either speaking a word. The moon had risen high in the heavens, and many of the clouds had passed away, so I could see her every feature plainly.

"Do you wonder," she said presently, "that, in spite of the vow you took some time ago, I cannot feel as friendly towards you as I would."

[Pg 213]

"No," I replied almost sullenly.

"Perhaps you know that my liberty, my happiness, my fortune, the whole future of my life is at stake."

"Yes."

"It is only a few months since I returned from a convent school in France. My father, I suppose, was a rich man; and I have heard vaguely that I legally inherit a large property when I am twenty-one. That time will soon come now. That is why the Killigrews are anxious to marry me at once. All I have would then become theirs. I have heard, too, that my property is strictly entailed. But I have been told nothing definite; it would seem as though all have been in a league to keep the truth from me. Ever since I returned from school I have been practically a prisoner. But I am determined to be free!"

"You shall be free if it is in my power to make it possible," I replied.

She gave a sharp, searching look, and then went on.

"I am, as you see, entirely dependent on you."

I was silent.

"As far as I know there is but one man in whom I can trust. He—he has asked me to be his wife. He does not know that I have taken this step." She said this in a constrained, hesitating way, as though she were afraid to utter the words.

"Do you wish to be John Polperro's wife?" I stammered awkwardly. "That is, would you under ordinary circumstances choose him for your husband? Is he to you the man above all others?"

[Pg 214]

"You are a stranger to me," she went on, as though I had not spoken. "Until that night when you climbed to the housetop at Endellion I had never seen you, never heard of you. I have no claim on you save the claim that any gentlewoman who is in trouble has upon a man of honour."

"Be that as it may," I replied, "all I have and am are at your service. I will take you whither you will." This I said, I am afraid, with a sigh, for I realized that after I had taken her to Polperro my work would be done. I must leave her, perchance never to see her again.

"I may trust you fully then?"

"Fully."

"Then," she said, and her voice became hard and unsympathetic, I thought, "will you tell me why you came to Endellion? why you tried to deceive me the first time you spoke to me? why you did not answer me frankly when we were together with that old man on Roche Rock?"

Her questions came quickly, and I saw by the way she grasped the bridle rein that she was much wrought upon. In a second I realized what they meant. I saw that the moment I told her the truth, even although she might perforce trust me to take her to Polperro, all possibility of respect for me would be gone. She would think of me as one who for gain would have betrayed a woman's confidence, one who was the tool of men who had bought me for a price. I had given up all idea of taking her to Treviscoe, but the fact that I had consented to such a bargain must stamp me in her eyes as a knave. I tried to open[Pg 215] my mouth to speak, but for the moment I could not, and I sat staring into vacancy as though I were a born fool.

"Forgive me," she said coldly, "I will not trouble you to answer me. I have no right to know your secrets or your plans. You have promised to take me to Polperro, and your name is Trevanion; I will trust to one bearing your name to do as you have promised. I am sorry to trouble you, but I am obliged to take advantage of a gentlewoman's claim on a gentleman, and to ask you to take me to the house of my only friend."

My heart was heavy, for I saw what her words implied. She would regard me with less respect than she might regard a paid guide. Although she had said she would trust me, her heart would doubt me all the time. I knew by the tones of her voice that when the time of our parting came she would be glad. She had given me a chance of proving myself an honourable man, and I had been unable to take advantage of it. Therefore, although by all laws of chivalry I was bound to serve her, she would accept that service no longer than she absolutely needed me. Aye, she would loathe my presence and my service, even although she could not do without them.

This I knew was what my silence meant to her, but what would an explanation mean? The truth would be perhaps worse than the suspicion. Never did I despise myself as I did then, and I felt as though I dared not tell her the truth. But this was only for a second. Despise me though[Pg 216] she must, I would tell her the whole story. I had at least repented; whatever my motives had been in the past, they were pure now.

"Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I said, "I will answer the questions you have asked."

"No, no," she interrupted. "I have no right to know. I was wrong in asking. Your secret life can be nothing to me."

"I must answer your questions nevertheless," I replied. "And you have a right to know something of the man in whom you trust so much. I shall probably lose what little confidence you have in me, and certainly all your respect, but still I must tell you."

She protested again, in chilling, indifferent tones, but I heeded her not.

"You said just now that I was a Trevanion," I said; "well, you spoke truly, I am a Trevanion." Then sparing myself in no degree, I told her the plain facts as I have told them here. It was painful to me, painful as pulling out my eyes, but I felt I would rather she should know all than that she trust me blindfolded, while all the time she hated to be obliged to speak to me. During the time I was speaking she made no response. Our horses walked slowly on (for by this time I imagined we were entirely away from the Killigrews), and so she heard every word I uttered. Sometimes I looked at her face, but it revealed nothing to me. It was as motionless as the face of a statue.

"That is all," I said when I had finished; "but believe me in this at least: I did not fully realize[Pg 217] what my premise meant, and you cannot think worse of my conduct than I think myself. I know it was unworthy, but it shall not turn out to your ill. If it is in the power of man, I will take you to the place to which you would go."

"Shall we ride faster?" she said presently.

"Yes," I replied, "but which way? Will you go by road or water?"

"If we go to Veryan, we pass Tresillian, I think you said?"

"I do not remember saying so, but it is true."

"Then we will go th............