"Take it? Of course you will, dearie!" cried Mother Goodhugh; "and now look here, my child. I want something of thine to complete a little spell I have at work. Thou hadst a ribbon round thy neck when thou earnest to me."

"Yes," said Janet, "a red one; Mas' Wat Kilby gave it to me."

"Nay, then, child, that will not do. I only want an inch cut from it by thy left hand; but if it be tainted by an old man's love it would not do. Let me see. Thou hast not anything given thee by the young court gallant?"

"No," said the girl. Then, with a hasty glance around, she whispered "I have a piece of lace he gave to Mistress Mace, and which she would not wear."

"That will do, child; go, get me the tiniest scrap of that, and I will weave a spell that shall bring thee happiness and peace."

Janet rose and opened the door, and listened.

"They be all in the room," she whispered, as she closed the door again.

"That be well. Be quick, child, and let me get out of this place."

"Thou wilt not move while I am gone."

"Nay, nay, child, not I; but harkye, leave the door ajar while thou art gone up stairs, so that if I hear a step that be not thine I may flee."

Janet looked doubtful for a moment, and then turned to go.

"I need not bring the whole piece?" she whispered.

"Faith, no, child; I'll not rob you of it. The tiniest scrap be all I want. It must be something that the knight has touched."

Janet nodded, and slipped out of the room, but ere she reached the staircase Mother Goodhugh was at the passage door listening; and, as the last stair creaked beneath the weak girl's tread, the old woman had glided into the passage, peered about by the light of the rush-candle burning on a stand, and uttered a grunt of disappointment. The next moment, though, she saw what she wanted, in the shape of a couple of keys hanging high up, close to the ceiling; and, stepping on a chair, she just reached them, and, lightly crept back along the passage to sit down in the kitchen, panting from exertion and excitement combined.

Before she could compose herself Janet was back, too much excited herself to notice the old woman's hurried breathings.

"I've got it," she cried, producing a handsome piece of lace. "I must cut some off here. Be quick; I be in such a fright for fear some one should come."

"That will do, dearie," said the old woman, tearing off a scrap from one end. "There, put it away, and let me begone. Take the drops, child, and give thyself ease. You don't care for such love as his."

Janet did not reply, but gladly opened the door to get rid of her unwelcome visitor, who stepped out into the dark night, and hurried away across the little bridge, and into the lane, where she turned to shake her stick at the peaceful-looking house, with its lighted windows.

"Now we shall see--now we shall see!" she cried. "Two ways open, and my sayings coming to pass. There will be no wedding now."

Volume 3, Chapter II.

HOW CULVERIN CARK SEALED UP THE STORE.

The autumn sun shone brightly down into the ravine that led up to the mouth of Gil Carr's store, and the steep sides were glorious with the bright berries that glistened amongst the changing leaves. Where the briony, with its bronze green foliage, flung down its wreaths, there was cluster after cluster of orange scarlet fruit. The brambles hung down thorny strands black with rich ripeness that there was no hand to gather; and wherever a prickly holly, all glistening glossy green, had rooted in some crevice of the sand-rock, it was covered with yellow berries awaiting more kisses from the ardent sun before blushing scarlet for the Christmas-tide.

The ferns were beginning to be dappled on their dark green fronds with gorgeous dashes of orange and chrome, mingled with crimson, red as blood, and the dyes of the finger-leaved maple were nearly as bright.

Where the white tails of the rabbits could be seen disappearing as their owners heard a tramp of many feet, the dense small-leaved sloe-bushes, with their cruel thorns, showed many a row of tiny plums of the richest violet, dusted with a delicate pearly bloom. The late blossoms of the yellow rag-wort clustered amidst the purple heath, and glossy ivy hung in strands swinging in the hot sunshine with the tender tips just brushing the seeded grass self-turned into useless hay.

Hot, still, and breathless lay the ravine, with all its natural riches, ripe with the fullness of the season, and now resting, waiting the coming of the cold wintry winds, that, sweeping up from the sea, should heat and tear and bear away the brightness of the autumn and turn all to desolation and death.

Suddenly a velvety blackbird, with its orange bill and yellow-circled eyes, uttered its alarm-note and flew along like a streak of night away up and along the side of the ravine to the over-hanging woods. A chat that had been busy twittering its song over a golden clump of furze stopped half-way and dived amongst the purple heath, while a glistening lizard, that had half taken the alarm from the scattering rabbits, ran beneath the leaves.

The steps in the distance grew plainer on the ear, and a greeny olive snake raised its head where it lay in a twirl upon a shelf of short, fine, sun-browned turf, darted its tongue out over its hard shiny jaws, and glided under the root of a tree, seeming to give warning of danger by its low hiss to an adder higher up the stony way, for the little viper condescended to raise its head where it lay like a scaly letter S upon the mossy stump of a hazel bush, round whose green, mouldering, gnarled stem were clustered, like chalices, so many thickly-veined fungi that looked as if roughly cast in orange-tinted deadened gold.

The danger seemed to be far off, for the viper lay down its spade-shaped head once more, yawned, and seemed disposing itself for another sunny sleep, but had hardly arranged its tail to its satisfaction when--_rustle--tap_--something fell from above, and struck it sharply on the back.

It was only a hazel nut that could hang no longer in its husk, but ripened into a soft warm brown, it had dried and dried till a leaf or two above it had ceased to give its shade, and then it had fallen like a warning upon the viper's back.

A moment before and the little reptile was sluggishness itself; this blow, light as it was, seemed to galvanise it into life, for a quick spasm darted through it, there was a sharp wave, and the raised head was ready to strike, while the eyes, that had a moment before resembled dim oxidised silver, now glittered like tiny jewels, as the whole creature seemed to become the picture of malicious rage, and sought where to drive deep its poison-fangs.

There was somehow a kind of resemblance between the little serpent and Anne Beckley, though there was no one by to see, as, failing an object at which to strike, the reptile seemed to consider that discretion was the better part of valour; and, slowly lowering its crest, it threw its body into a series of horizontal waves, and gradually disappeared beneath some tawny--golden bracken on the slope.

The steps came nearer, and suddenly there was a movement on the edge of the cliff, high above the store, where a bronzed man took his place, evidently on the look-out.

Directly after another was seen scaling the side of the ravine to post himself on the slope over the entrance, while again another suddenly appeared amidst the furze on the green shoulder which overlooked the sloping downs.

Gil Carr's men did not often visit the place by day, hence the precautions against being watched by some intruder.

High up above the cavern, the gaunt figure of Wat Kilby suddenly showed against the sky. Then he shrank down into a little depression half overgrown with trees, and soon after a thin, pale blueish vapour arose, and kept rising, as, pipe in mouth, the old sailor seated himself upon a block of stone to watch.

Meanwhile, up the bottom of the ravine, close down by where the clear stream wandered in its deep fern-hung mossy shades, a little party of some twenty men wound their way.

Every man seemed well-armed, and, with the exception of their leader, all appeared to be carrying a burden, either a small keg or a little chest, or a heavy packet, which they bore through the clustering bushes, which seemed to interlace their arms and try to stay them as they forced their way amongst the rocks.

After climbing pretty close to the end, at a word from Gil the loads were set down, arms laid aside, and by means of half a dozen pike-staves the great stone was rolled away.

The men then waited while Gil went in and lit a lanthorn, returning soon after to make a sign, when one by one they all lifted and bore in their loads, following their leader for some distance to where the dim light showed an inner cavern, whose sides and roof had evidently been roughly chiselled out by the hands of man.

Here the fresh additions to the stores of the place were neatly deposited, and the sailors sat down, while Gil busied himself in examining a bale or two that seemed to have been gnawed by rats.

"I wonder where the skipper shoved that spying fellow Churr--him as we searched for?" said one of the men in a low voice to his nearest comrade.

"Further in, somewhere," was the reply; "I thought I could smell him just now."

"That be rats," said the other; "I know them well enough. But does the place go in far?"

"I believe you, my lad. I once went in ever so far with old Wat and the skipper carrying lanterns."

"Did you?" said the other, eagerly; "and what be it like?"

"Like this here. All the same--hole after hole, with rough stone pillars to support it all, just as it must have been dug out."

"Bah! chap, this was never cut out," said the other. "It came natural like."

"Never cut out? Come natural like? Look here, my lad," said the sailor, rising and pointing to marks upon the wall that seemed to have been made with some rough tool.

"Yes, but anybody might have done that," said the younger man.

"You can think what you like," said the other. "I'm telling you what the skipper told old Wat, and you never knew him tell a lie. He said to old Wat, 'My father found the way rabbiting when a boy, and forgot all about it till he felt the want of a place to store things in unknown to other folk, and then he recollected this.' He said it was made by folks as lived underground hundreds of thousands of years ago."

"Oh?" said the other.