Sure there is no better, sweeter couch than this of linen spread over hay. Early in the morning, I woke with wits clear as water, and not an ache or ounce of weariness in my bones: and after washing at the pump below, went in search of breakfast and Sir Bevill. The one I found, ready laid, in the hall; the other seated in his writing-room, studying in a map; and with apology for my haste, handed him Master Tingcomb’s confession and told my story.
When ’twas over, Sir Bevill sat pondering, and after a while said, very frankly—
“As a magistrate I can give this warrant; and ’twould be a pleasure, for well, as a boy, do I remember Deakin Killigrew. Young sir—” he rose up, and taking a turn across the room, came and laid a hand on my shoulder, “I have seen his daughter. Is it too late to warn you against loving her?”
“Why yes,” I answer’d blushing: “I think it is.”
“She seems both sweet and quaint. God forbid I should say a word against one that has so taken me! But in these times a man should stand alone: to make a friend is to run the chance of a soft heart: to marry a wife makes the chance sure—”
He broke off, and went on again with a change of tone—
“For many reasons I would blithely issue this warrant. But how am I to spare men to carry it out? At any moment we may be assail’d.”
“If that be your concern, sir,” answer’d I, “give me the warrant. I have a good friend here, a seafaring man, whose vessel lies at this moment in Looe Haven, with a crew on board that will lay Master Tingcomb by the heels in a trice. Within three days we’ll have him clapp’d in Launceston Jail, and there at the next Assize you shall sit on the Grand Jury and hear his case, by which time, I hope, the King’s law shall run on easier wheels in Cornwall. The prisoners we have already I leave you to deal withal: only, against my will, I must claim some mercy for that rogue, Settle.”
To this Sir Bevill consented; and, to be short, the three knaves were next morning pack’d off to Launceston: but in time, no evidence being brought against them, regained their freedom, which they used to come to the gallows, each in his own way. Their doings no longer concern this history, and so I gladly leave them.
To return, then, to my proper tale, ’twas not ten minutes before I had the warrant in my pocket. And by eleven o’clock (word having been carried to Delia, and our plans laid before Billy Pottery, who on the spot engaged himself to help us) our horses were brought round to the gate, and my mistress appear’d, all ready for the journey. For though assured that the work needed not her presence, and that she had best wait at Stow till Master Tingcomb was smok’d out of his nest, she would have none of it, but was set on riding with me to see justice done on this fellow, of whose villainy I had told her much the night before. And glad I was of her choice, as I saw her standing on the entrance steps, fresh as a rose, and in a fit habit once more: for Lady Grace had lent not only her own bay horse, but also a riding dress and hat of grey velvet to equip her: and stood in the porch to wish us “Godspeed!” while Sir Bevill help’d Delia to the saddle.
So, with Billy tramping behind us, away we rode up the combe, where Kilkhampton tower stood against the sky; and turning to wave hands at the top, found our host and hostess still by the gate, watching us, with hands rais’d to shield their eyes from the sun.
The whole petty tale of this day’s ride I shall not dwell upon. Indeed, I scarcely noted the miles as they pass’d. For all the way we were chattering, Delia telling me how Captain Settle and his gang had hurried her (though without indignity) across Dartmoor to Ashburton, thence to Lynton in North Devon, and so along the coast of Somerset to Bristol; how they there produced a paper, at sight of which Sir Nathaniel Fiennes, the new Governor, kept her under lock and key. And thus she remained four months, at the end of which time they convey’d her on board a sloop, call’d the Fortitude, and bound for the Virginias, with the result that has been told. To all of which I listened greedily, stealing from time to time a look at her shape, that on horseback was graceful as a willow, and into her eyes that, under the flapping grey brim, were gay and fancy-free as ever.
“And did you,” asked I, “never at heart chide me for leaving you so!”
“Why no. I never took thee for a conjurer, Jack.”
“But, at least, you thought of me,” I urged.
“Oh, dear—oh, dear!” She pull’d rein and look’d at me: “I remember now that last night I kiss’d thee. Forget it, Jack: last night, so glad was I to be sav’d, I could have kiss’d a cobbler. Indeed, Jack,” she went on seriously, “I would that some maid had got hold of thee, in all these months, to cure thy silly notions!”
At Launceston, Billy
