Chapter 36

At the same time my heart beat high with hope, and I was happy. For a true love, even although difficulties beset it, is always beautiful and joyous. As I rode along through the night, even the wild winds sang love songs to me, while I could see the light of Naomi's eyes shining in the darkness, revealing her face to me, pure and beautiful.

I am told that my days of romance are over, that I have reached that stage in life when the foolishness of young lovers is impossible to me. And yet even now I cannot see a boy and a maid together without my heart beating faster; for there is nothing more beautiful on God's green earth than the love of lovers, and I know that when a lad feels a girl's first kisses on his lips, he lives in heaven, if he loves her as I loved Naomi. There are those, even in this parish, who sneer at the bliss of boy and girl sweethearts, but I, who remember the night when I rode from Bumble Rock to Pennington, cannot sneer; nay, rather, the tears start to my eyes, and I find myself fighting my battles again and dreaming of love, even as I dreamed then.

Smiler was a better steed than I had hoped. Saddle I had none, nor bridle, but the halter which had been placed on her head was sufficient for me to guide her. Moreover, I had been used to horses all my life, and felt as much at ease on a horse's back as on my feet. Thus it came about that before midnight I had reached the parish of St. Eve, and was making my way toward Pennington. When within sight of the house, however, I was in a dilemma, and never until then did I realise how difficult was the task I had set myself. The whole family was a-bed, at least I imagined so, neither did I know the part of the house where Naomi Penryn was. Most likely, too, dogs would be prowling around, and I did not wish to place myself in the power of Richard Tresidder or his son Nick. At the same time I vowed that I would see Naomi, even though I waited there until morning.

So, tying Smiler to a tree, I crept quietly up to the house and looked anxiously around. At first all seemed to be in darkness, but presently I saw a light shining from one of the windows in the back part of the house. Wondering what it might mean, I went toward it and looked through the window. A blind had been drawn, but it did not fit the window well, and there was an inch of glass between the window-frame and the blind that was not covered. At first I could only see the room in a blurred sort of way, for the leaded panes of glass were small, but presently I saw more clearly. The room into which I looked was the kitchen, and by the table sat a man and a woman. The man was Ikey Trethewy, whom I had last seen in Granfer Fraddam's Cave, and who had promised to take my letter to Naomi; the woman was the Pennington cook. The latter was a sour and rather hard-featured woman of forty years of age. It had been a joke of the parish that Tryphena Rowse never had a sweetheart in her life, that she was too ugly, too cross-tempered. It was also rumoured, however, that this was not Tryphena's fault, and that her great desire was to get married and settle down. I soon saw that Ikey Trethewy was there as Tryphena's sweetheart. The table was covered with tempting eatables, of which Ikey partook freely, stopping between sups of ale and mouthfuls of chicken pie to salute the object of his affections. I saw, too, that these attentions were by no means disagreeable to the cook, although she gave Ikey several admonitory taps. It was evident, too, that Ikey's visit was clandestine. I knew that, except on special occasions, it was the rule for Pennington doors to be closed at ten o'clock, while it was now past midnight. Probably Ikey, who had the reputation of being a woman-hater, did not care for his courtship to be known, for I knew that he did not like being laughed at or joked in any way.

I had not waited long when Ikey began to make preparations for his departure, while Tryphena seemed to be trying to persuade him to stay a little longer. No sound reached me, however, and I imagined that all their conversation was carried on in whispers for fear the noise thereof might reach the master or mistress of the establishment. He succeeded at length, however, in breaking away from the embraces of the fair cook, while two huge dogs which lay by the kitchen fire watched them solemnly. Presently the door opened, and Ikey and Tryphena stood together outside. They were quite close to me, so that I could hear their every word.

"You wa'ant be long afore you come again, Ikey?" asked Tryphena.

"Not long, my buty. P'raps you c'n git a bit a pigin pie next time."

"That I will, Ikey. But doan't 'ee think, Ikey, 'tes time for 'ee to be puttin' in th' baans? We've bin a-courtin' like this now for more'n vive yer."

"Well, tha's nothin', Tryphena. Jim Jory ded court Mary Hicks thirteen yer afore they wur spliced."

"Iss; but I ca'ant kip comp'ny weth 'ee like other maids. An' ted'n vitty fur we to be mittin' every week like this 'ere."

"Well, Tryphena, my buty, you do knaw I do love 'ee deerly. An' you be a clain off cook, too. I niver taasted sich a vowl pie in my life, ther now. An' yer zay 't shell be a pigin pie next week."

"Iss, Ikey; but 'twud be purty to 'ave a 'ome of our oan."

"Mawther wa'ant 'eer of et it, nor Cap'n Jack nuther. 'Nother yer or two, Tryphena, and then I'll go to the passen. Ther, I mus' be goin'."

Another sounding kiss, and Ikey crept away very quietly, while Tryphena began to put away the supper things. In a minute my mind was made up. I had heard enough to settle me on my plan of action. I thought I saw the means whereby I could see Naomi.

I waited until Tryphena had cleared away the remains of Ikey's repast, and was evidently preparing to go to her room, and then I gave the kitchen door a slight knock, and, imitating Ikey's voice as well as I could, I said, "Tryphena, my buty, laive me in a minait."

She came and opened the door quickly.

"'Ave 'ee forgot summin', Ikey, deear?" she said; and then before she recognised me I slipped in.

The dogs rose up with a low, suppressed growl, as though they were in doubt what to do; but Tryphena, who was as anxious as I that the household might not be disturbed, quieted them.

"Maaster Jasper Pennington!" she gasped as she looked into my face.

"That's right, Tryphena," I said. "Sit down, I want to talk with you, and I want you to do something for me."

"No, I mustn't, I daren't. They do oal hate 'ee 'ere, Maaster Jasper. Ef they wos to knaw you was 'ere, I dunnaw wot wud 'appen."

For a moment a great bitterness came into my heart, for I remembered that this was the first time I had ever entered the home of my fathers. And it galled me beyond measure that I should have to enter at midnight at the kitchen door like a servant who came courting the servant maids. I quickly realised my position, however, and acted accordingly.

"Yes, you must do what I ask you, Tryphena," I said.

"I tell 'ee I ca'ant."

"Then Ikey Trethewy will be in the hands of the Preventive men by to-morrow," I replied, "and Richard Tresidder will know that a man has come to his house for years at midnight on the sly."

I did not want to frighten the poor woman, but it had to be done. I saw, too, that I had said sufficient to make Tryphena afraid to thwart me.

"What do 'ee want me to do?" she asked.

"I suppose no one can hear us?" I said.

"No, oal the family, 'ciptin' Miss Naomi, do slaip in another paart ov the 'ouse."

I listened intently, but could hear no sound; evidently all the family was asleep.

"You remember about two months ago that Ikey brought a letter to Miss Naomi Penryn?" I said.

"Iss."

"Well, I wrote that letter."

"I knaw; Ikey tould me."

"Well, I want to see Miss Naomi."

"When?"

"To-night. I want you to go to her room now, and tell her that I want to see her."