After considering the whole situation for an hour or more, I determined
to find my way to Penhale and there make inquiries. I thought it better
to go there afoot, first because the distance was scarcely two miles,
and second because I desired to attract no attention. Leaving the Manor
House of Resugga on my left, I walked on until I came to a little wooded
dell in which two houses were built. Here I stayed awhile, arrested by
the beauty of the scene. The place was called Terras, and was very fair
to look upon. A little stream purled its way down the valley, under
giant trees, and filled as my mind was with many things, I could but
stop and listen to the music of the water as it mingled with the sound
of rustling leaves overhead. As I passed on, I saw the miners working in
the moors. They were tin-streamers, and were, so I was told, making
riches rapidly. After this I stopped at a farm called Trelyon, from
whence I could see Trelyon Downs. Here legend had it giants lived, and
streamed the moors for minerals, and made bargains with the devil in
order that success might attend their labours. After leaving Trelyon I
was not long in reaching Penhale, a house of considerable size and
importance, and here I stopped and looked about me. The house was
comparatively new and very substantial, while signs of prosperity were
everywhere to be seen. Fine trees grew all around, and the gardens were
well planted. Evidently a well-to-do yeoman lived here.
I tried to think of an excuse for entering, but presently gave up the
idea. If Uncle Anthony and Mistress Nancy were there it would not be
well for them to know my whereabouts; and yet if I were to fulfil my
promise to Peter Trevisa, and thus retain Trevanion, I must know if they
were behind the walls which looked as though they might hide mysteries.
Very soon I bethought me of the stables, and was just starting to find
them, when I saw a well-fed, portly man come out of the front door.
"Jack," he shouted.
"Yes, sur," replied a voice.
"Bring my horse." On saying this he entered the house again.
The place was perfectly silent, save for the stamping of horses' hoofs
and the bleat of sheep in the distance. From the spot on which I stood I
could easily see and hear without being seen.
Presently the man, whom I took to be the owner of the place, came to the
door again, and this time some one accompanied him, although whoever it
was kept out of sight.
"Well, I must be going. You say I shall not be seeing you again."
I could not hear the murmured reply.
"Well, have your own way. I have heard of the old chapel and well in St.
Mawgan, where it is said an old priest lives; but man, you are safer
here."
After this I heard nothing, and a little later the owner of the place
rode away. I waited until he was well out of hearing, when I found my
way to the stables. In the stableyard I saw the man who had brought his
master's horse to the door.
"Is your master at home?" I asked.
"No sur; missus es."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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