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Updated: June 6, 2025
"He was my friend," said Roger again, looking down on the sheet, and wondered why this man had loved him. Indeed, there was no explanation except that Trevarthen had been just Trevarthen. He followed Malachi, wondering the while if he had ever thrown Trevarthen an affectionate word.
He kicked the body savagely and ran, too, for his gun. Half a minute later Jane came screaming back through the house. "Oh, master they've caught her! They've caught her!" "Caught whom?" "Why, Jezebel herself! They've got her in the yard at this moment, and Master Trevarthen's a-bringing her indoors!" Trevarthen had planned the stroke, and brought it off dashingly.
So to-day, with Roger's leave, Trevarthen withdrew five of the garrison and rode off, leaving but four men on guard Roger himself, Malachi, a labourer named Pascoe, and one Hickory Rodda a schoolmaster from Wendron, whose elder brother, Nathaniel, a small farmer from the same parish, went with the expedition. The short day passed quietly enough, if tediously.
The Trenbys' circle of friends interested her not at all. The men mostly of the sturdy, sporting type, bored her ineffably, and she found the women, with their perpetual local gossip and discussion of domestic difficulties, dull and uninspiring. Of the McBains, unfortunately, she saw very little, owing to the distance, between the Hall and Trevarthen Wood.
The woman in the chair heard all this, and saw Trevarthen draw Roger aside as the men filed out. They were muttering. By-and-by Roger commanded Jane to go and set candles in the parlour. Again they fell to muttering, and so continued until she returned. Roger Stephen came slowly forward to the hearth. "Stand up!" he said, and Mrs. Stephen stood up.
"Don't fire, that's a dear man!" cried a voice through the bars; and Roger wondered; for it belonged to a young yeoman from St. Keverne, and its tone was friendly. "Hey, Trevarthen? What brings you here?" he demanded. "Goodwill to help ye, if you're not above taking it. You've been served like a dog, Stephen; but we'll stand by you, though we go to Launceston jail for it.
"What is it?" "Flag o' truce!" bawled Malachi in answer. "Master's compliments, and if you've done for the day he wants to know if you've such a thing as a surgeon." "Pretty job for us if we hadn't," growled the Sheriff. "I keep no surgeons for lawbreakers. How many wounded have you?" "Ne'er a man amongst us, 'cept poor Jack Trevarthen, and he's dead. 'Tisn' for a man, 'tis for a woman.
They're all posted." "A nuisance, this fog," said Roger, peering into it. Since the first assault he and his men had levelled the hedge across the road, so that the approach from the fields lay open, and could be swept from the loopholes in the courtlage wall. "I don't say that," answered Trevarthen cheerfully. "We may find it help us before the day is out.
But I've been reading the Bible: there's a deal about witches in the Bible, and so I came to understand ye." He stared at her and nodded. Having once lifted her face, she could eye him steadily. But she made no answer. He stooped and picked up the ladle at his feet. "You needn't be afraid," he said slowly: "I promised Trevarthen I wouldn't hurt you beforehand. And afterwards it'll be soon over.
Step and tell the others, and send Malachi to me. I I thank ye, friends, but, as you've been arguing to yourselves, the game's up; we won't stand another assault to-morrow." They filed out and left him, none asking as Trevarthen would have asked concerning his own safety.
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