Now of what Nancy and I said to each other during the next few minutes there is no need for me to write. At first joy conquered all other feelings, and we lived in a land from whence all sorrow had fled, but by and by she began to talk about "good-byes," and a look of sadness dimmed the bright light in her eyes. So I asked her the meaning of this, and it soon came out that she had been grieving sorely concerning the dark shadow which had fallen upon her life. She had learned from Hugh Boscawen probably about her father's marriage being invalid, and she felt her position keenly. For although she had been[Pg 415] treated with great kindness at the home of the Boscawens, she could not help believing that she was there on sufferance and not as an honoured guest. So to cheer her I told her of the good fortune that had befallen me, and how Hugh Boscawen had been commissioned to give me back my old home as a reward for the services I had rendered to my country. At this she expressed much joy, but persisted in saying that my good fortune had removed us further away from each other than ever. And then she repeated what Hugh Boscawen had said a few minutes before, and declared that she would never stand in the way of my advancement.

"And what would advancement be to me if I have not you, Nancy?" I asked.

She thought it would be a great deal.

"And do you love me, my dear?" I asked.

She thought I had no need to ask such a question.

"Then suppose you were mistress of Restormel, and I were without home, would you let me go away because I was poor and what the world called disgraced?"

And at this my Nancy began to laugh, even while her eyes grew dim with tears.

"No, Roger," she said; "but—but you are so different."

After that I would hear no further objections, neither indeed did she offer more, for she saw that they grieved me, and so it soon came about that she gave her consent to be the mistress of the home which I had won back.

[Pg 416]

"But you are giving me everything, and I am giving you nothing," she said.

"Nay," I replied, "but you can give me more, a thousand times more, than I can give you. Even although I could give you Trevanion a hundred times over, my gift would be as nothing compared with yours."

"And what can I give you?" she asked as if she were wondering greatly.

"Nancy Molesworth," I answered, and then the light came back to her eyes again, and she came to me joyfully, even as she had come at Restormel.

Now those who read this may regard what I have written as the foolish meanderings of a lovesick swain, and not worthy of being written down; nevertheless it gives me joy beyond measure to think of that glad hour when I was able to make my Nancy laugh again. For I who for years had laughed at love had entered into a new life, and now all else was as nothing compared with the warm kisses she gave me and the words of love she spoke. True, I had passed my boyhood, but I have discovered that, no matter what our age maybe, the secret of all life's joy is love. Surely, too, God's love is often best expressed in the love of the one woman to whom a man gives his heart, and the love of the children that may be born to them.

I would not wait long for our wedding-day, neither, indeed, did my Nancy desire it; and so three weeks later I took her to Trevanion, where she was welcomed by my old servants, even as[Pg 417] though she were sent direct to them from God. And in truth this was so.

Now the wedding feast at Trevanion was not of a kind that found favour in the county, for by my dear maid's wish we had none of high degree among us, save Hugh Boscawen only, who, in spite of his many duties, spent some hours with us. Indeed, he did not leave till near sundown, for, in spite of the many cares which pressed upon him, he seemed to rejoice in the thought of our love, and in the glad shouts of the youths and maidens who danced beneath the trees on the closely shorn grass.

For my own part, my heart was overfull with gladness, for never surely was the world so fair to any man as it was to me that June day. All around the birds were singing as if to give a welcome to Nancy, while everywhere the gay flowers gloried in their most beauteous colours as though they wished to commemorate our wedding-day. Away in the far distance we could hear the shout of the hay-makers, and above us the sun shone in a cloudless sky. Everything was in the open air, for although I loved the very walls of the old house, my Nancy desired that the wedding guests should be received on the grassy lawns, where all was fair and free, and where we could hear the distant murmur of the sea. And indeed it was best so. There the farmers and their wives, whose families had been tenants for many generations, conversed more freely, while the young men and their sweethearts danced more gaily.

But best of all, my Nancy rejoiced beyond[Pg 418] measure, especially when the old servants and tenants came to her and wished her all happiness. For no one seemed to know but that she was the owner of Restormel. Neither Peter Trevisa nor his son had breathed one word concerning their secret, and Hugh Boscawen had held his peace.

When the sun was sinking behind the trees and lighting up the western sky with wondrous glory, the man to whom I owed so much took his leave.

"Trevanion, you are a happy man," he said.

I did not reply save to give a hearty laugh and to press Nancy's hand, which lay on my arm.

"I am afraid there may be dark days for England ahead, but you, Trevanion, have entered into light. Now, then, before I go let me see your tenants and servants dance again."

So I called to the old fiddlers, men who had lived in the parish all their lives, and they struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley," when old and young laughed alike.

"All seem happy save yon old blind beggar," remarked my friend; "he seems sad and hungry."

"Then he shall not be sad and hungry long," I said, noting for the first time an old man on the lawn; "stay a little longer, and you shall see that he will soon be as happy as the rest."

"No," replied Boscawen; "I give you good evening, and all joy," and therewith he went away.

"Fetch yon old man, Daniel, and give him of the best of everything," I said; "food and drink,[Pg 419] aye, and a pipe and tobacco too. No man shall be sad and weary to-day if I can help it."

So Daniel fetched him, and all the while young and old laughed and danced for very joy, aye, white-haired tottering old men and women, as well as the little children made the place ring with their joyous shouts.

"You are happy, my love, are you not?" I said turning to the dear maid at my side.

"Yes, perfectly happy, but for one cloud in the sky."

"Nay, there must be nothing. Tell me what that one cloud is, and I will drive it away."

"I cannot help it. You give me everything, and I give you nothing. I never cared for Restormel till you told me you loved me. I do not care about it for myself now—only for you, Roger. If I could bring you something now——"

"Please sir, that old man wants to speak to you."

I turned and saw the old beggar standing by Daniel's side.

"I wish you joy on your wedding-day," he said in a thin quavering voice. He was much bent, and his eyes were nearly covered with green patches.

"Thank you, old man," I said, "let them bring you food and drink. You are weary, sit down on this chair and rest."

"I wish my lady joy, too," he said; "full joy, complete joy. That is an old man's blessing, and that is what I bring to her. May I—may I kiss my lady's hand?"

[Pg 420]

Now I was not over-pleased at this; but another glance at the poor old creature drove away all unkind thought; besides, it was my wedding-day. And so Nancy gave him her hand to kiss.

"May every cloud depart from your sky, my sweet lady," he said; "aye, and by God's blessing the last cloud shall be driven away."

At this I started, for he had been repeating our own words. I looked at him again, and my heart beat strangely.

"Let me add joy to the day, and not sorrow," he continued. "Let me bring my harp, and I will play the old Cornish melodies, and I will tell the old Cornish stories."

"But not until you have had food and rest," said my dear Nancy.

He would not wait for this, however, so the people flocked around him, and he played and sung wondrously for such an old man. After this he told the people stories which moved the wedding guests much, first to tears and then to laughter.

"You shall stay at the house to-night, old man," I said; "what is your name?"

"I have many names," he replied, "but many call me David, because I am cunning with the harp and can charm away evil spirits, even as King David of old charmed away the evil spirits from the heart of Saul. There is only one sad thought in the heart of your dear lady to-night, and that my harp shall charm away."

After the guests were all gone that night I called the old minstrel to the room where my[Pg 421] forefathers had sat, and where my Nancy and I had come. The lights were not yet lit, for it was near midsummer, and the night shone almost like day. The windows were open too, and I cared not to shut out the sweet air of that summer evening.

He came, bearing his harp with him, and when we were alone I spoke freely.

"Uncle Anthony," I said, "take off the patches from your eyes and stand upright."

"Ah, you have penetrated my disguise?" he said.

"Even before you spoke so strangely," I replied.

"I will not take off my patches, and I must not stay at your house to-night, Roger Trevanion," he said quietly. "In an hour from now I must be on my way again."

"But why?"

"I am not yet safe. For the present I will say no more. Sometime, perchance, I may come to your house as an honoured guest."