"Look you," I cried, catching her roughly by the arm, "I want no religious talk! I left a lonesome, helpless maid with you whom you promised to protect. Where is she now?" I said this like one demented, as, indeed, I was. I heard Eli and Naomi's father enter the room, but I took no heed, neither did I listen carefully to the story the woman told. I had some vague remembrance about her saying she went to hear Mr. Charles Wesley, leaving Naomi with Tamsin, and that on her return that morning both had gone. She had inquired of her neighbours, and had been told that three men had come to the house at daybreak, and that when they went away Tamsin and Naomi rode with them in the carriage they had brought. It was well Naomi's father was with me, for my mind was too confused to ask the necessary questions. I reproached myself for trusting Tamsin and for not taking better precautions. I felt I had by my own foolishness lost my love and again allowed her to be in the power of my enemies. I thought of a score of things I ought to have done, while Mr. Penryn asked many pointed questions. We were about to take to the saddle again when Tamsin Truscott rushed into the house. The poor girl's face was as pale as that of a ghost, and she trembled from head to foot. "Forgive me, Jasper," she cried. I did not speak, for I knew not how to control my words. "Oh, Jasper, I--I could not help it. It was so hard, so terribly hard. I--I loved you, and I thought that when she was gone you would forget her, and then--" She did not finish her sentence, but sobbed bitterly, as though she was in sore straits and truly contrite, as, indeed, I thought she was. She went on to utter many words of self-accusation. She confessed that she had betrayed Naomi's hiding-place, with many other things which I need not here write down. "Where is she now?" I cried angrily. "She is being taken to Padstow," she said. "You know why." "Is it the priest?" I asked. "Yes," she answered, "and the Tresidders." "Let us get to our saddles," I cried, "we may get there before they." "Yes, you can if you ride hard." "What about horses?" said Mr. Penryn; "these are poor nags; they were the best I could get, but they are spent with a twenty miles' ride." "They will last to Falmouth," I cried, "we must get fresh ones there." "God forgive me, but I have no more money," he said, and at this I, too, hung my head, for I was penniless. I looked to Eli, but before the dwarf could speak Tamsin had caught my hands. "I have plenty, Jasper," she cried. "Oh, let me help you! It was all my fault, let me do what I can now." "Where is your money, girl?" asked Mr. Penryn. "It is at Kynance, Jasper," she said, not noticing him; "father is not yet home, and we can get there before he returns." "It is scarcely out of our way," I said to Mr. Penryn, and it seemed our only hope. And so we went thitherward, although I had grave doubts as to whether Cap'n Jack had not returned. CHAPTER XXV