Concerning my journey to Launceston there is but little need to describe in detail. Except that it was long and wearisome it calls but for few remarks. On our way thither we passed through Bodmin, where was a jail, and where the assizes were periodically held. I asked why I was not imprisoned there, seeing it was so much nearer Trevanion than Launceston, and would thus save a long journey, but the men in whose custody I was made no reply. Indeed we did not stay at Bodmin at all. Instead we made our way towards the Bodmin moors, and passed through one of the dreariest regions it has ever been my lot to see. The journey through the night, from[Pg 252] Wadebridge to Roche Rock, was awesome enough, but it was cheerful compared with our wanderings through that waste land which lies between the town of Bodmin and the village of Lewannick, a distance of something like twenty miles. Besides, in the ride to Roche Rock I was excited, I breathed the air of romance and adventure; a young girl who I was even then learning to love rode by my side, and I had but little time to think of the lonely district through which we rode. Now I was a prisoner, my destination was one of the county jails, where I should have to lie until such time as I should be tried for treason. All this made the bare brown moors look more desolate. We had to ride slowly, too, for there were innumerable bogs and quagmires, and no proper roads had been made. One spot especially impressed me. It was that known as Dozmary Pool, about which numberless wild tales had been told. Legend had it that it had no bottom, and that Tregeagle, about whose terrible fate all the children in Cornwall had heard, was condemned to scoop out its dark waters with a limpet shell in order to atone for his sins. Of the legend I thought but little, but the supposed scene of his trials was enough to strike terror into the bravest heart. The pool is as black as ink, and is situated in the midst of uninhabited moorland. Early spring as it was, the wind howled dismally across the weary waste, and my custodians shuddered as they rode along, for truly it required little imagination to believe that the devil must delight to hold his revels there. I have since[Pg 253] thought that if I had played upon the superstitious fears of my guards I should have had but little difficulty in effecting my escape.

After we had left the Bodmin Moors, we came upon those situated in the parish of Altarnun, and these were, if possible, less cheerful than the other, for on our right hand rose a ghastly-looking hill on which nothing grew, and whose gray, forbidding rocky peaks made us long to get into civilized regions again. By and by, however, after passing through a hamlet called Bolven Tor we came to Altarnun, where we rested for nearly two hours, and then made our way towards Launceston.

It was quite dark when we entered the town, so I was able to form but little conception of it. Even in the darkness, however, I could see the dim outline of a huge building lifting its dark head into the night sky.

"Launceston Castle!" remarked one of my companions.

"Am I to stop there?" I asked. "Is it a prison?"

"I don't know exactly," was the reply; "you'll find out soon enough for your own comfort, I dare say."

Upon this we came up to a high wall which was covered with ivy, and behind which great trees grew. The sight of the walls was oppressive enough, but the trees looked like old friends, and reminded me of the great oaks which grew around Trevanion.

"Here's a door," cried one, "let's knock."[Pg 254] Whereupon the fellow knocked loudly, and soon afterwards I heard the sound of footsteps.

"What want you?" said a voice.

"A prisoner," was the reply.

"Take him to the lock-up," was the answer. "This is not the place for constables to bring drunken men."

"If it please you, we be not constables," replied one of my companions. "We have come from my Lord Falmouth, with a prisoner of quality, and I carry important papers."

"But it is not for me to examine them," replied the voice, "and Master Hugh Pyper is gone to a supper to-night at South Petherwin, and God only knows when he will be back. Moreover, when he comes I much doubt whether he will be fit to read such papers."

"In Heaven's name, why?"

"Because Sir Geoffry Luscombe keeps the best wine in the county, and because whenever Master Hugh Pyper goes there he thinks he is bound by conscience not to leave until he has drunk until he can drink no more."

"And this Master Hugh Pyper is the constable and keeper of the jail and castle? I know he is, for such is the name written on my papers."

"Well, I will open the door," grumbled the man from within, "but I wish you had chosen some other time. To-morrow morning, up to twelve o'clock, Master Pyper will be asleep, and from then until late to-morrow night he will give no man a civil word. You say your prisoner is a man of quality?"

[Pg 255]

"That he is."

"All the same, I shall have to put him into a common jail until Master Pyper is able to read what you have brought."

We passed through the door as he spoke, and the man who had been speaking, and who held a lantern in his hand, looked at me keenly.

"I wish gentlefolk would keep out of trouble," he grumbled; "if they did, I should keep out of trouble. Master Pyper is always in a villainous temper whenever a man of quality is made prisoner. But come this way."

I expected to be taken to the castle itself, but in this I was mistaken. South of this ancient pile, and away from the main structure, I noticed a long low building, towards which I was led. The man who held the lantern gave a whistle, whereupon another fellow appeared on the scene.

"All quiet, Jenkins?" he asked.

"Oal gone to slaip, sur. They've been braave and noisy, but they be oal right now."

"You have an empty cell?"

"Iss, Mr. Lethbridge, there es wawn."

"Open it."

A few seconds later I had entered an evil-smelling hole, which as far as I could see was about eight feet square and five feet high. On one side was a heap of straw, in another a bench.

"Are you hungry?" asked the man called Lethbridge.

"I was before I entered this hole," I replied. "I cannot eat here."

[Pg 256]

"There have been as good as you who have eaten there," he replied. Then, after hesitating a second, he went on, "You would like to pay for a decent supper I expect."

"For the whole lot of you if we can have a clean place," was my answer.

Mr. Lethbridge looked around. "Every man is innocent until he is proved guilty," he remarked sententiously, "and thus before trial every prisoner is allowed certain privileges. Come back again, sir."

I therefore accompanied him to what seemed like a tower, situated southwest of the gate at which he had entered.

"This is the Witch's Tower," remarked Mr. Lethbridge. "A witch was once burnt here, but she will not disturb us. John Jenkins, you know where to get a good supper. The best you know!" The man gave a grin and walked away in evident good humour.

"John Jenkins is always willing to do little errands," remarked Mr. Lethbridge, "and he only expects a trifle. The people to whom he's gone will send a good supper and not be unreasonable. Do not be downhearted, sir."

Bad as was my condition, I was cheered at the thought of a good meal which might be eaten amidst clean surroundings, and although the room under the Witch's Tower was not cheerful, it was dry and clean. A few minutes later a decent supper was brought, of which we all partook heartily. Mr. Lethbridge was the best trencherman among us, although he assured us at starting[Pg 257] that having had supper he would be able to eat nothing. The amount of wine he consumed, too, was astounding, especially as he was constantly telling us that unlike his master, Hugh Pyper, the Governor of the Castle, he was but an indifferent drinker. Presently, however, when both he and the men who had escorted me from Trevanion had become fairly drunk, I was informed that I might stay in the Witch's Tower for the night, while they would go to Mr. Lethbridge's lodge and drink my health in some more wine that they would order in my name.

I was glad to be rid of them, for dreary and lonely as the Witch's Tower was, Jenkins had brought some straw for me to lie on, and I felt very tired. I could not sleep, however. I had too many things to think about, for in truth the events of the last few days were beyond my comprehension. I was weary with wondering, too. In spite of myself I had become enmeshed in a network of mysteries, and, seemingly without reason, my very life might be in danger. But more than all, I was ignorant concerning the fortunes of the maid Nancy Molesworth, and I would have given up willingly the thing dearest to me on earth to know of her safety.

I will not try to write down all my anxieties, and hopes, and fears. I will not try to tell of the mad feelings which possessed me, of the wild projects I dreamed about, or of the love which grew hourly more ardent, and yet more hopeless. Those who have read this history will, if the fires of youth run in their veins, or if they remember[Pg 258] the time when they were young and buoyant, know what I longed for, and what I suffered.

The following morning Master Lethbridge came to me and informed me that my companions of the previous day had started on their journey home, and that in remembrance of my generosity of the previous night,—with a hint concerning his hopes of future favours,—he intended braving the governor's anger, and would allow me to occupy the Witch's Tower until such time as Master Hugh Pyper should be inclined to speak with me. He also assured me that he would allow me to walk about within the precincts of the castle walls, but warned me against any attempt at escape, as warders were constantly on the watch and would not hesitate to shoot me dead.

Although I did not believe this, I could not at that time see the wisdom in trying to escape, so I wandered round the castle grounds thinking over my condition and over my prospects. It is true I had not seen Master Hugh Pyper, the governor of the Castle, but it was not difficult to see that he was somewhat lax of discipline. As for that matter, however, the place was, I suspect, no better and no worse governed than many other county prisons throughout the country. The jail itself, however, was a wretched, noisome, evil-smelling place, where the convicted and unconvicted suffered alike, and I dreaded the thought of being removed from the Witch's Tower and placed in the common prison. I discovered that I might possibly have to stay two months in the place before my trial came off, as the spring[Pg 259] assizes were often delayed as late as the end of May, or even the beginning of June. It was, therefore, a matter of considerable anxiety to me as to the kind of man Hugh Pyper might prove to be, for on him would depend my well-being. I remembered that my father had spoken of Sir Hugh Pyper, the ............