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And it would appear that this was really the case. For when, in the small hours of the morning, the trio reached Trevarthen Wood and Sandy had effected an entry and aroused his mother, there followed a brief interview between Peter and Mrs. McBain, from which the latter emerged with her grim mouth all tremulous at the corners and her keen eyes shining through a mist of tears.
It was all admirably simple as Trevarthen related it, swelling with honest pride, by the kitchen fire. The woman herself heard the tale, cowering in a chair beside the hearth, wondering what her death would be. Roger Stephen looked at her. "Ah!" he drew a long breath.
While the two men stood meditating a moan sounded in the room below. It seemed to rise through the planking close by their feet. Trevarthen caught Roger by the arm. "What's that? You haven't been hurting her? You promised " "No," Roger interrupted, "I haven't hurt her, nor tried to. She's sick, maybe. I'll step down and have a talk with Jane." On the landing outside Mrs.
That night Roger Stephen, in his attic, slept as he had not slept for months, and awoke in the grey dawn to find Trevarthen shaking him by the shoulder. "Hist, man! Come and look," said Trevarthen, and led him to the window. Roger rubbed his eyes, and at first could see nothing.
Summer is done, with our work here." She shivered. "Let us go back," she said. They descended the ladders. Trevarthen met them in the kitchen and went before them with his lantern. In a minute they were in the cradle again and swinging toward the cliff. The wisp of sea-fog had drifted past the light-house to leeward, and all was clear again.
Vyell, Trevarthen, come to do honour to our opening night." "Proudly welcome, ma'am," said Trevarthen. "You'll excuse the litter we're in. This here's our cellar, but you'll find things more ship-shape upstairs. Mind your head, ma'am, with the archway better let me lead the way perhaps."
Trevarthen stepped forward briskly to undo the mischief. "We'll have forty of the boys back before daylight: Dick Eva's taken a fresh horse to carry round the warning. Get to your posts, lads, and leave Jane here to cook supper. 'Tis 'one and all' now, and fight square; and if Hick Rodda has been sending his dirty threats to Nansclowan and frightening women, he's a good riddance, say I."
Often though she might scarify him with her sharp tongue, she was genuinely attached to him, and her clannishly hospitable soul would have been sorely wounded if he had not spent a few days at Trevarthen Wood while he was in the neighbourhood.
Early in the morning of New Year's Day Trevarthen suggested riding into Helleston to purchase fresh meat, their stock of which had run low with the Christmas feasting.
Open the gate, like a good man." "You'll swear 'tis no trick you're playing?" "If we mean aught but neighbourliness, may our bones rot inside of us!" Trevarthen took oath. Roger opened the padlock and loosened the chain. "I take this very kind of you, friends," he said slowly. "Why, man, 'tis but the beginning!" the cheerful Trevarthen assured him.
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