"And at last there came a day when he did not seem any worse than usual.

It was one of those soft, bright, warm spring days, that come in all at once, setting the buds bursting, the birds building, and your heart seeming to drink in a kind of joy from the soft breeze. I'd been to dinner, and was going back to the garden, to finish a bit of nailing in over there upon the south wall, that ought to have been done long before. Well, I'd got to the door, when my poor little fellow burst out crying to go with me; and at last, seeing how bright and warm it was, and how sheltered he would be there, under the sunny wall, we wrapped him up, and I took him in his little chair to the warmest spot I could find, gave him some violets and primroses, and a crocus and snowdrop or two, and then I was soon up on my ladder, nailing away, laying in young wood there, moving a branch here, and, being fond of my work, and soon interested, I was sometimes a quarter of an hour together without looking at our little fellow; but I was down four times to pick him a fresh flower or two and the last time I was down I thought he seemed a little drowsy.

"At last I got off to move my ladder, and had my foot on the round to get up again, when I looked at the little chair, and started to see that my boy was lying fast asleep, when, for fear of cold, I caught him up, and carried him towards our cottage; but I had not gone half-way, before a strange shudder seemed to run through me, and I stopped short to look in the little face, saying something that I knew would make him smile if he heard it; and then, hardly knowing what I did, I rushed home with my light burden, whose little hands were tightly holding some of G.o.d's early gifts of spring against the little breast now growing colder and colder.

"No, he didn't hear me; but there was just the faint dawning of a smile about his little mouth: for G.o.d is very kind to some of those he loves, and there was no sign of pain there as he went to sleep. And I can't think that I'm wrong, in always fancying my boy where never-fading flowers bloom, for he was too young to have ever angered his Maker; and besides, did he not say, `Suffer little children to come unto me,' and `Of such is the kingdom of heaven?'

"Don't you take no notice of me, that's a watery weakness; but, now, just look there, I went over every bit of that lawn reg'lar, last week, and then there wasn't a bit of daisy to be seen; while now, here they are coming up in a bunch. But it really is the case with flowers, that those you want to kill and get rid of won't die, while those you wish to save--There, don't take no notice of me, it's only a watery weakness."

Poor old Pengelly went away, for the weakness seemed disposed to increase, and for long enough he was busy weeding a nook of the garden far away from where I sat. He was very reticent afterwards, for days to come, and when at last he grew more sociable his face was hard, rugged and weather-stained, and he seemed the last man to have been influenced by a tender sympathetical thought.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

SALT TEARS.

That rugged exterior and tenderness of heart of the Cornish people render them marked amongst their fellows. It is questionable whether you would find in any part of England so respectable and religious a body of men as those of Cornwall. Whether fishers or miners it is the same, they are quiet, temperate, and G.o.d fearing, and certainly more intelligent than the men of many counties. I have often sat in the Ross's garden of an evening listening to the singing of the fishermen upon the cliff, not the roaring of some sailors' chorus, but the sweetly blended parts of some old hymn, or glee--for part singing lingers still amongst these Western folks.

Then as to education, I have been surprised at their amount of knowledge and reading. One fair ruddy st.u.r.dy old fellow, the corners of whose lips were not free from the stains of tobacco, used to take me out occasionally in his boat and showed me the various rocks and caves, and he surprised me by his reading. The first time I was out with him I found that his boat was called _The Chemorne_, and I naturally enough asked why he had given it so quaint a name.

"Oh, it means _Birch Canoe_," he said, and when I asked further, he told me that he had found the name in _Hiawatha_, when he was reading Longfellow's poems.

One of my greatest intimates though amongst the fishermen, was a quiet stern-faced middle-aged man, who seemed to have some great trouble upon his mind; and one evening when he had rowed me out beyond the headland, and lay upon his oars, he began talking to me about the sorrow of his life, the death of the woman he had loved and who was to have been his wife.

"Yes," he said, "I behaved bad to her ma'am, and all through blind obstinacy and want of faith.

"I've seen that same face of hers scores of times since, and though it makes me shudder, and nips me to the heart, I always go and have a good long earnest look at it, and come away a better man. You may see that face yourself--as much like as if it had been taken from her sad, anxious looks--you may see it at the picture-shop windows, and it's of a woman tying a handkerchief round a man's arm, and she looks up at him pitifully, and it's called `The Huguenot.' That's like the look, and the face that gazed up into mine after she'd told me what I know now was the truth; and I--yet I'm most ashamed to own it--I flung her away from me, and wouldn't believe what she said. There was a tear upon each cheek, and the bright drops were br.i.m.m.i.n.g in her eyes, and ready to fall; but I was hard and bitter, and whispered to myself that they were false tears, put on to cheat me, and I ran out of her father's house, swearing that I'd enter it again no more.

"Speaking as a fisherman, and one who was brought up with the sound of the sea always in his ears, I may say we rowed well together in the same boat, Mary and I. I had a long fight of it before I could persuade her that it would be best for her future that she should take me for pilot, and not Harry Penellyn; but I did persuade her at last, and we were to be married down at the little fishermen's church at the head of the cove. So we worked and waited.

"Two years of as happy a life then fell to my lot as could fall to that of any man in this life, I believe. My ways were rough, and hers were not those of a lady, but they suited our stations in life, and what more would you have? I look back upon that bright bit of life as if it was some dream; and though I can't settle to go back to the old place, I cling to the fish, and look upon those days when a Lozarne boat comes in, as days worth recollecting; for they bring the blood in one's cheek, and a bit of light into one's eye.

"I can see it all now as plain as can be: the little fishing village under the cliff; the stout granite pier running out so as to form a harbour for the fishing-boats; and the blue sea, stretching away far as eye could reach. Down by its edge, too, the weed-fringed rocks, piled high in places, with the sea foaming amongst the crevices, and again forming little rock-pools where the bright sea growths flourished; and as the tide came in, with its fresh cooling waters, you saw the limpets and sea flowers wakening again to life, while many a spider-crab and sh.e.l.l-fish crept out of the nook or crack where it had hidden from the warm sun. I can see it all now at any time, though I am growing grey, and nigh a score of years have pa.s.sed since; but brighter than all seem to stand out those two mournful eyes, with the same tearful look they gave me as I flung out of the door and saw them for the last time; for when next I looked upon that face the eyes were fast closed, and could I have opened them the l.u.s.tre would have been gone.

"A west country fisherman's life is one which takes him a deal from home, for sometimes we go off for perhaps three months at a time to the north coast, or to Ireland when the herring season is on; and, like the rest, I used to be off in my boat, sorry enough to leave home--happy enough to return after a busy season, till one year, when I took it into my head to think it strange that Harry Penellyn, Mary's old beau, should spin his illness out so long and stop ash.o.r.e, time after time, when the boats went out, and him seeming to be well and strong as any of us.

There had been a heavy gale on the coast some weeks before, and, as we always do at such times, we had run in for the harbour as soon as we saw it coming; but, through bad seamanship, Penellyn's boat came inside the rocks, when she should have come outside, and then, through their not having water enough, she grounded, lifted again, caught by the stern, and then swung round broadside to the waves, which swept her half deck, while a regular chorus of shrieks rose from the women standing ash.o.r.e.

"It was a rough time, for even our boats that were in the harbour were groaning and grinding together, while every now and then the sea washed over so as to threaten to fill them, and sweeping the pier from end to end. In an ordinary way we made a custom of laughing at the crew of a boat who, from bungling, got her on the rocks, for born as we were in the bay, with our fathers fishers before us, we knew every stone along the coast, and could almost have steered our boat to them blindfold; but this was no time to jeer, for now the poor fellows were being swept one by one from their hold, and borne struggling through the surf to the rocks, where they were in danger of being dashed to pieces, for ours was no smooth, sandy beach. Some were swimming, some beating the water frantically; and clad as our men are, in their thick cloth trousers, heavy sea boots, and stout Guernsey shirts, they stand a poor chance of keeping long afloat, for the weight of their boots is enough to drag them down.

"There was every one in a state of excitement; some running out as far as they could and throwing ropes--men shouting orders that n.o.body attended to--women tossing their arms up and crying, while first one and then another of the boat's crew was dragged ash.o.r.e, and carried half drowned up to the cottages.

"I was standing looking on, with Mary by my side, for she was out on the cliff when my boat ran into the little harbour, while her hand was the first to clasp mine when I got ash.o.r.e, thankful for the escape we had had, for the sea had risen wonderfully quick. I had taken no part in trying to save the boat's crew, for there were plenty of willing hands, and there being but little standing-room down below the cliff, I had thought I should be in the way; but now it seemed to me that one poor fellow would be lost with the efforts they were making to save him, for he was too weak to cling to the ropes thrown out, and as fast as he was swept in by the waves, they sucked him back.

"I had not seen who it was, but just then, as I made a start as if to go down, Mary clutched, my arm, and there was a wild look in her face as she said aloud, `Harry Penellyn.'

"The excitement of the moment carried almost everything before it, but I had a strange feeling shoot through my heart, and something seemed to say, `Keep back;' but the next minute I was fighting with the waves, with the noose of a rope round my body, and plenty of stout mates ash.o.r.e fast hold of the end. Then, after a strangling battle, I got tight hold of Penellyn, and we were drawn ash.o.r.e, and both of us carried up to Mary's father's cottage, though I tried hard to get upon my feet and walk, but I might have known that our fellows would not have let me on any account.

"Well, Harry Penellyn lay there three or four days, and Mary tended him, and all that time I had to fight against a strange, ungenerous, cowardly feeling that would creep over me, and seemed at times to make me mad, till I got myself in a corner and asked myself questions, to all of which I could only answer the same word--nothing. Then Penellyn got better, and went to his mother's house; and time went on, till I grew bitter, and harsh, and morose, and was always haunted by a suspicion that I would not put into words, while now the question came again and again--`Why doesn't Harry Penellyn go to sea?'

"But no answer came to my question; and though he seemed to be well and strong as ever, he always kept at home while we went out; and in my then state of mind this troubled me, and I kept feeling glad that we were only out now on the short trips of a few days in length. I grew angry with myself and with all around. Ay, and I grow angry even now, when I think that a few earnest words of explanation--a few questions that I know would have been answered freely--would have set all right, and perhaps saved the life of as good and loving a woman as ever lived in the light.

"But it was not to be so; and I went on wilfully blinding my eyes to everything--placing a wrong construction upon every look and word, and making those true eyes gaze at me again and again in wonder; whilst Harry Penellyn, who had never before shown me much goodwill, now that I had saved his life, would have been friends, only I met his every advance with a black scowl, when he always turned off and avoided me.

"One evening it had come to the lot of my boat to run into harbour with the fish of several other boats; for the takes had been very light, and somehow or another I felt more bright and happy than I had done for weeks. I got ash.o.r.e, left my mates tending the mackerel, and ran up to Old Carne's cottage to find Mary out.

"This did not trouble me at first; but after a few minutes' fidgeting about, I felt a flush come in my face, and hurrying out, I made an excuse at Mrs Penellyn's, and got to know that Harry was out too.

"The hot blood rose from my cheeks to my forehead, and seemed to blind me; then a strange singing sensation came in my ears; but the next minute I was tearing along the cove in the dark of the evening, so as to get away where I might be alone with my thoughts, for that vile suspicion that was struggling with me before, had now conquered and beaten me down, so that I was its slave, and for the time a regular madman.

"I had run about half a mile, when I stopped panting, and began to walk slowly along beneath the trees close beside the fern-hung rocky bank, while it was now too dark to see far before me. But the next instant I was standing with my breath held, and one hand resting on my side, for as I crouched close to the bank I heard Penellyn's voice, talking earnestly as he pa.s.sed a few yards from me, with his arm tightly clasping a woman's waist, and just as they had pa.s.sed they stopped, and there was light enough for me to see him bend over her, and without stopping to think, I leaped from where I was hid, and, as the woman shrieked and fled, I had Penellyn by the throat, and we joined in a fierce struggle.

"If an angel had told me I was deceived, I should not have believed him then in my blind fury; and it was not until, having dashed his head against the ground again and again, and felt my enemy's hold relax, that I leaped up, kicked him savagely, and then ran back.

"Just as I expected, Mary was at home, looking hot and flushed, but she jumped up with a smile, and hurried to me, saying--

"`I was down at Mrs Trevere's, dear; but I heard your boat had come, and--'

"She stopped short, half frightened by my wild looks and disordered clothes, and half by the savage curse I gnashed out at her as I seized her arms; while, as the..." [two pages missing here.]

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE EMPTY HOUSE.

Some pages are missing here... place, what electro or veneer is to the precious metal or solid wood. There were plate-gla.s.s windows, but the frames had warped; handsome bal.u.s.trades to green shrunken stairs; the floor-boards had shrunk one from another and curled up; the ceilings had cracked; and where the rain had found its way in, through defective spouts at the side, or bad slating and plumbing of the roof, the walls told tales, in the unpleasant-smelling efflorescence of microscopic fungi, that, in place of good honest sand-mixed mortar, the house had been built, by a scamping contractor, with rubbish ground up with a dash of lime stuff, that is good for two or three years, and then crumbles away.

From room to room of the desolate place we went, to find every window closely shut. There was the pleasant prospect, beyond the tiny square of gra.s.s-grown earth called a garden, of the blank end wall of the row of houses in the next street. Over the wall, next door, an attempt had been made to brighten the prospect; but the plants looked melancholy, and a Virginia creeper that ought to have been displaying its gorgeous autumnal tints was evidently suffering from a severe bilious attack, due to low spirits, bad drainage, and a clay soil. The very sparrows on the ledges were moulting, and appeared depressed; and on going higher up, there was a blank hideous cistern in one of the attics, that looked so much like a sarcophagus on a humid principle, and suggested such horrors of some day finding a suicidal servant-maid within, that any lingering ideas of recommending the house vanished like dirty snow-crystals before a pelting rain.

"It's a very convenient house," said the old gentleman.

"And will let some day at a far higher rent," piped the old lady.

"You'd better come down to the breakfast-room now," said the old gentleman.

"And see the kitchen too," echoed the old lady.

So I went down--to find, as I expected, the breakfast-room showing a cloudy mountainous line of damp on the paper for about two feet above the wainscot; and here again the window was closely shut, and the strange mephitic odour of damp and exhausted air stronger than ever.

This apartment was the one utilised by the old couple for bed and sitting-room combined, and their spare furniture was spread neatly over it, according to the homely old rule of "making the most of things."

I finished my inspection, with the old folks most eager in their praise of all, and when I pointed to the damp the old gentleman exclaimed--