Chapter 16: The Pixies' Dell.

After leaving Petronella close to her home, and watching the slight figure vanish within the postern door, Cuthbert turned his own steps towards the Chase, resolved to see Philip and tell him what had pa.s.sed between him and his sister before returning to the forest dell where he had resolved to keep his watch.

He would not make any disturbance at the house at this dead hour of the night; but as he was familiar with the place, he quickly found his way to a small pavilion in the garden, the door of which was not locked at night, and stretching himself upon a wooden settle which stood there, he quickly fell asleep, and slept soundly and well until awakened by the sound of a startled exclamation.

Springing to his feet, bewildered for a moment, and unable to remember where he was, he found himself confronted by the eager, startled face and big l.u.s.trous eyes of his cousin Kate.

"Cuthbert! thou here!" she exclaimed in amaze. "Thou surely hast not brought me ill news of my--of Culverhouse!" and a deep flush overspread her face as she spoke.

Cuthbert hastened to rea.s.sure her. He explained that he had not seen Culverhouse since they parted in the forest, and that his own errand was of a private nature, and concerned himself and his sister.

"Ah, poor Petronella! methinks a hard lot is hers, Cuthbert. My brother does what he may; yet that is but little, and of late he has not been able so much as to get sight of her. Yet I see not what thou canst do for her. Thy father is even more incensed against thee than against us!"

"I came but to see with mine own eyes how she fared, and to breathe a word of hope in her ear. Kate, sweet coz, let me breathe that same word in thine; for thou wast the one to give me hope and confidence when all besides looked on me as a wild dreamer. Methinks I am on the track of the lost treasure. Methinks with patience and care I shall find it yet."

Kate's eyes kindled and glowed.

"Nay, now, that is good hearing! Said I not ever that the old saws spake sooth? And is not the luck to return to the house of Wyvern through its daughters' sons? Cuthbert, tell me more--tell me all! how is it thou hast succeeded where all besides have failed?"

"I cannot lay claim to success as yet," answered Cuthbert, smiling. "I have not said the treasure is mine, only that I trow I know where soon I may lay hands upon it. Sweet Kate, when all that gold is brought back to the halls of Trevlyn Chase whence it was taken, sure thy dowry will be fair enough to win Lord Andover's smiles. Sure thou wilt not then be afraid to own--"

But Kate laid her soft hand upon his lips and glanced round with startled eyes. Courageous as she was to carry out a bold resolution, she was not free from nervous timidity, too.

"Speak not the words, good Cuthbert, neither here nor yet within the walls of the Chase. I have not dared to breathe to them at home the thing I have done. Heaven pardon me if it were a sin; but I may not wish it undone. It is so sweet to feel myself his; and if it be as thou sayest, we may not have long to wait ere he may claim me before the world. But if thou findest the treasure thyself, will it not be all thine?"

"I trow not, and I trust thou hast no such evil thoughts of me, fair cousin, as to think that I would keep all, when but a portion was my father's share, and that will scarce be mine whilst he lives. I do but hope to restore it to those to whom it rightfully belongs. I trow there will be enough to make all glad and happy, and I doubt not that something of good hap may come to me thereby. But to lay claim to all--why, that would be a scurvy thought, unworthy a man of honour."

Kate's bright face was full of eager sympathy and approval.

"I like thee, Cuthbert," she cried; "I like thy honest thoughts and words. Thou art in sooth a very proper youth. Thou art worthy of thy Wyvern blood, which I hold to be purer than that of Trevlyn, which has times and again been stained by acts of malice, greed, and violence. But see, the sun is rising in the sky! We must back to the house for the morning meal. And, Cuthbert, good Cuthbert, thou wilt keep my secret? Thou wilt not tell of our meeting on May Day in the forest?"

"Never a word an thou biddest me not," answered Cuthbert, with a smile. "So that is to be a secret, Lady Culverhouse?"

She recoiled with a little start, her eyes dancing, her cheeks aglow.

"O Cuthbert, I had not thought that my name was changed. Lady Culverhouse! What a pleasant sound it has! But oh, not a word at home! I dare not tell them aught till Culverhouse be by my side. I mis...o...b.. me that I did right to let him persuade me thus; and yet I could not say him nay, and I longed to hear the words spoken that should bind us to each other. But I dare not tell my father! I trow both he and my mother would chide full sternly. In truth, I fear me it were scarce a maidenly act. But, O Cuthbert, love is so strong--so hard a task master. Where he drives, it seems that one needs must go;" and she looked up at him with such arch appeal that he felt those glances would go far to soften the sternest parental heart.

"In truth, I believe thee, fair coz, and I will keep thy secret faithfully. It is safe with me; and I trust that all will end happily when the lost treasure shall return to the house of Trevlyn."

And talking eagerly upon this theme, which was also to be kept secret from all the world besides, the cousins walked towards the house. Cuthbert received a warm and hearty greeting from all his kinsfolks there, who were pleased that he should have kept his promise and have come to see them with the long days of early summer.

Sir Richard and his wife were both pleased with the fashion in which the youth had developed; his intelligence and information were now plainly apparent, and had taken a fresh impetus from the new surroundings in which he had found himself. He could talk with discrimination and insight on all the leading topics of the day, had plainly lost much of his old rusticity of thought and speech, and had become an interesting and self-possessed youth.

But his errand was really to Philip, and to him he spoke in private of his sister's story, and how she had promised to obey her father and to see him no more. Cuthbert could a.s.sure the disappointed lover that this was no indication of coldness on Petronella's part, but that it was done from a sense of filial duty, combined with a fear of some violence on her father's part towards her lover should he be provoked too far. Cuthbert was as certain as Philip could wish that Petronella's heart was entirely his. He had read the girl's secret in the tones of her voice and in the shy glances of her soft eyes. He told Philip, too, of the gold that was awaiting the girl in her uncle's keeping, and added that he was certain sure that Martin Holt would be glad enough to give it over to his niece if she had a st.u.r.dy husband of the Reformed faith to take care of her and it. His only fear was of its falling into the hands of the Papists, which thing would have been abhorrent to the grand sire whose legacy the money was. That fear laid to rest, he would be glad to be rid of the charge, and to give over the gold to its rightful owner.

Philip's heart was with Petronella, and he had not concerned himself as yet with any thoughts as to her poverty and his own somewhat impecunious position as his father's heir, but with three sisters to be provided for out of the revenues of the impoverished estate. He was man of the world enough to know that this dowry would do much to smooth his path when the time should come for making known his case to his parents, but for the moment his thoughts were all with the lonely girl shut up so relentlessly by her father.

"I will see Nicholas Trevlyn," he said, with stern decision. "Things have gone too far not to go further. I will see him, and make formal application for his daughter's hand. He can but refuse me, and I shall tell him plainly that I decline to give her up at any word of his. I can wait with patience till she is of age to judge for herself; but she is the woman of my choice, and her alone will I wed if she will have me."

Cuthbert's face was grave and troubled.

"And waiting for that, she may well be done to death within those walls, as I should have been had I not fled. I am in trouble of heart anent my sister. I pray she may find her way to me yet in the free forest!"

Philip started and looked surprised.

"Is there likelihood of that?"

"I know not. I bid her come if our father should grow more harsh, and told her where I likeliest might be found. I purpose to dwell for a while myself in the forest, albeit thou wouldst mock me if thou knewest the wherefore."

"To search for the lost treasure, I doubt not," said Philip with a smile, remembering the talk of the autumn previous. "Marry thou hast my best wishes for a happy quest. But what couldst thou do with a tender maid out in the woods with thee?"

"I scarce know that myself; but anything would be better than life with a madman--as I trow our father is like to become an he change not his habit of life. Belike I would take her to mine uncle on the bridge; yet perchance he would not thank me for adding to his charges.

"If we had other relatives--"

"Why, and so ye have, even as we have. Hast never heard of my Lady Humbert and Mistress Dowsabel Wyvern? They must be kinsfolk of thine as well as of ours, and they dwell not very far distant from here, albeit I myself have never visited them."

Cuthbert raised his head and looked eagerly at Philip.

"I would know more of that," he said.

"It is not much I can tell thee. This Lady Humbert is a widow, and is sister to that Gertrude Wyvern who was my grandam and thy aunt. Mistress Dowsabel is her younger sister; and albeit they are both now of a good old age, they dwell together, with only servants for company, in a house thou wouldst have pa.s.sed on the road to London hadst thou not taken the lonelier way across the heath. My father and mother go each year to see after their welfare, and a letter comes now and again from them with greetings or questions. We of the younger generation have never been to visit them, since they are too old to wish for the presence of the young, and love not to see the changeless current of their lives interrupted. I remember that of old, when we were in disgrace for some prank, our grandam would shake her head at us and vow we should be sent to her sister Dowsabel for chastis.e.m.e.nt, and stay with her till we learned better manners. So we have grown up in the fancy that these kinswomen be something stern and redoubtable ladies. Nevertheless, if thou wast to put thy sister beneath their care, I trow they would receive her with kindness and treat her well, and she would scarce regret the Gate House were the captivity never so hard. Nor would Nicholas Trevlyn be like to seek her there, though at the Chase he would find her at once, were we to strive to aid her flight as we aided thine."

Cuthbert saw this plainly, and asked a few more eager questions about these ladies and where they might be found. He hardly knew whether or not he expected Petronella to flee away to him, but at least it would do no harm to be prepared in case she did so.

Philip told him all he knew, which was not much. The house would be easily found, as it stood upon the highroad just a mile from a large village, its gates opening straight upon the road, although at the back were gardens and pleasaunces and a clear trout stream. It seemed to Cuthbert as he listened that such a place as this might prove a safe haven of refuge for his sister should one be needed, and he resolved that if she once came to him he would persuade her to place herself beneath the protection of these ladies.

He would well have liked to see her again, to have whispered something of this new plan into her ears. But though he lingered much about the house during the two short weeks he spent at the Chase, he saw no glimpse of his sister, and he did not dare to summon her out to meet him at night, lest haply the suspicions of the grim old tyrant should be aroused.

Leaving Philip fully determined to see Nicholas Trevlyn ere long, to lay before him his formal proposal for Petronella's hand, and confident that all at the Chase would befriend her as far as it was possible; Cuthbert, afraid to linger longer in the immediate vicinity of the Gate House, took his departure for the forest, resolved to give himself over heart and soul to the search after the missing treasure, and not to give it up until every nook and corner of the pixies' dell had been subjected to the closest scrutiny.

It was easy to obtain from Philip all such tools as would be needful for the task of excavation. Although the young man himself had small hopes of Cuthbert's success, he was interested in spite of himself in the proposed plan, and would have been more so had he known how much had been already discovered. But Cuthbert kept much of that to himself, not willing that tattling tongues should spread the rumour. Only to real believers in the hidden treasure did he care to speak of the gipsy's strange words and the visit to the wise woman of Budge Row. Philip, he thought, would smile, and perhaps he would speak of the matter to his father, who in turn might name it to some one else, and so it might come round, through the gipsy spies and watchers, to the ears of Long Robin himself. That, as Cuthbert well knew, would be well-nigh destruction to all his cherished hopes; yet one who believed not would smile at his fears, and could scarce be expected to observe the needful caution.

As Cuthbert started for his nine miles' tramp in the cool of the evening, with his tools slung across his shoulders, he was glad to think that he had resisted the temptation to speak openly of this matter to any but Petronella and Kate. With them he well knew the secret was safe, for they entertained for Long Robin just the same suspicious fear as he did himself, and their lips were sealed even as his own.

The walk was nothing for his strong young limbs; but as he approached the lonely dell, he instinctively slackened his speed, and proceeded with greater caution. The thick growth of the trees made the place dark in spite of the moon, which hung low in the sky and shone between the trees in long silvery beams; and the tangled path which once had led to the forest well had been long overgrown with a ma.s.s of bramble and underwood, through which it was hard to force a way.

But Cuthbert cautiously proceeded, listening intently for any sounds of life to indicate the presence of Long Robin, the only being likely to be near at such an hour; but all appeared to be intensely still, and presently he commenced his cautious descent into the dell itself, and at last stood beside the old stone wall that guarded the mouth of the well.

Cuthbert had heard something of that well since he had been at his uncle's house. Some of the old servants at the Chase knew the forest well, and he had been told the story of the pixies' dell: how it had once been a noted spot in the forest, and how travellers turned aside to drink the waters, which were not only fresh and clear and cold, even on the most sultry summer's day, but were reported to possess healing properties, especially if taken at certain hours of the night and in certain phases of the moon. Long ago there had been a monastery near the well, and the monks had dispensed the waters to the applicants who came. But the monastery had fallen into ruins and had disappeared, and after that the pixies were given the credit of the healing waters. People came to drink them, though less frequently than before; and as the place grew more lonely and deserted, rumours began to float about that the pixies were inimical to man, and that the waters no longer possessed their old power. Later on still, a more terrible thing was discovered: it was said that it was death to approach that dell and drink the waters. Men's bones had been found in great numbers close about that spot, and it was plain that they must belong to the unhappy wights who, disregarding cautions, had ventured to the place, and had died before they could get away from thence.

After that, as may well be guessed, no sick folks had cared to trouble the dell again. Travellers made a wide circuit to avoid it, and it was held to be the place of most evil repute in the forest.

All this story was well understood by Cuthbert, who felt no fear of the spot, only a little natural awe as he recollected the deed that had once been done there. The moon was going down as he looked about him; the dark hour before morning was about to fall upon the world. He looked about for a resting place in which to conceal himself till he could commence his search, and found the place he desired in a hollow tree, just beyond the circle of smooth sward that surrounded the well itself.

Plainly this tree had been used before for a like purpose. The leaves had been carefully raked together within, and were covered by a warm rug, in which Cuthbert was not sorry to wrap himself, for the night air was sharp and chilly though the days were hot.

"Long Robin's rug, or I greatly mistake me," he said with a smile. "I trow he would be sore amazed were he to come and find me here. Howbeit he would but take me for a pa.s.sing wayfarer, since he knows not my face, and I mis...o...b.. me if he come tonight. He fears too much Joanna's watchful eyes and Miriam's jealous ones. I will sleep in peace till daylight dawns, and then I will begin my search."