Trevethlan: A Cornish Story. Volume 3 (of 3)Watson, William Davy
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Trevethlan: A Cornish Story. Volume 3 (of 3)
Watson, William Davy
Cornwall (England : County) -- Fiction
"Well," said the pertinacious Breage, "if he confesses to murder, I
shall never believe in any sign or token again."
The suspicion here indicated that the smuggler had told only half the
truth, prevailed very generally in the hamlet, and many of the villagers
thought that he had wilfully thrown the clergyman over the cliff. But we
are willing to ascribe the popular feeling to the common love of the
worst in criminal matters, and to believe that Wyley was sincere. He was
probably prepared for robbery, but not for murder. The revelry at the
Trevethlan Arms was protracted till a late hour.
CHAPTER XIV.
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crowned with care;
For one that scorned at me, now scorned of me;
For one being feared of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obeyed of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheeled about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Shakspeare.
Meanwhile scandal and gossip were still busy with the stolen marriage
and its consequences. Mysterious paragraphs had appeared in some of the
public prints. If newspapers at that time had been illustrated, there
might have been portraits of the bride and bridegroom, or at least of
Rhoda, and of the travelling carriage. But the kindred of Asmodeus, who
in these days haunt town and country with the implements of Daguerre,
and embellish our journals with their woodcuts, had not yet acquired
those pictorial aids, and were obliged to content themselves with
old-fashioned letterpress. What their descendants may arrive at,
especially in alliance with the disciples of Mesmer, to whom distance is
no object, and brick and mortar no impediment, it is hard to anticipate.
The electric telegraph is likely to be regarded as a slow concern;
everybody will know his neighbour's thoughts; the old fable of
transparent bosoms will be realized; and the gift of speech will cease
to be of any use.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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