The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder PlotEverett-Green, Evelyn
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The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot
Everett-Green, Evelyn
Gunpowder Plot, 1605 -- Juvenile fiction
"I will tell thee that adventure some day when we are alone," he
answered. "I have often longed to share the tale with thee, but we
have had so much else to speak of. I was taken prisoner by the
robbers, and conveyed to a ruined mill, where some of their
comrades and some wild gipsies dwell, as I take it, for the greater
part of the inclement winter. I thought my end had surely come when
first I saw the fierce faces round me; but there was one who called
herself their queen, and who made them quit their evil purpose. She
put me to sit beside her at the board, and when the morning came
she fed me again and bid me ride forth without fear. She told me
certain things to boot, which I must not forget: but those I will
not speak of till you know the whole strange story. I may not tell
it here. I would not that any should know it but thee, Cherry. But
some day when we can get into some lonely place together I will
tell thee all, and we will think together how the thing on which my
mind is set may be accomplished."
Cherry's eyes were dilated with wonder and curiosity. Her cousin
all at once took rank as a hero and knight of romance. He had
already experienced a wonderful adventure, and there was plainly
some mystery behind which was to be made known to her later.
What a proud thing it was to have such a cousin! How she despised
honest Jacob now, with his large hands and heavy ways! She had
laughed at him ever since she could remember, and had ordered him
about much as though he were a faithful dog always ready to do her
bidding; but she had never quite realized what a clumsy boor he was
till their handsome, dark-faced Trevlyn cousin had come amongst
them, with his earnest eyes, his graceful movements, and his slim,
attractive person. Cuthbert's manners, that in fine society would
have been called rustic and unformed, were a great advance on
anything Cherry had seen in her own home, save in the person of
Anthony Cole and his son. She admired him immensely, and he was
rapidly becoming the sun and centre of her life; whilst Cuthbert,
who had always been used to the companionship of a sister, and who
found several fanciful resemblances as well as so many points of
contrast between the lively Cherry and the pensive Petronella, was
glad enough of her sisterly friendship and counsel, and did not
lose in favour with his uncle that he succeeded in pleasing and
brightening the life of his youngest born, who was in truth the
idol of his heart, though he would sooner have cut off his right
hand than have let her know as much too plainly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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