The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot

"Say, sister, wilt thou be my helper in this labour, be it small or great?"

She laid her hand trustingly in his; her dark eyes glowed.

"Gladly, gladly will I share the labour and the toil, my brother. O Cuthbert, it seems a happy and a fitting thing that the luck of the house should return to the Trevlyns of the Chase through the two poor cousins whom they befriended in their hour of need. They were kind to us when our life was darkest; it will be sweet to think that they will win happiness through us."

"Ay, and Philip's bride will be no longer a portionless damsel, but will have gold enough and to spare. Sweet sister, Philip hath spoken to me openly of his love. He hath been ere this to ask thee at thy father's hand."

"Ay, and was driven forth with blows and curses."

"Thou hast heard it? But thinkest thou he will take that for an answer? Nay, Petronella, thou wilt one day be his bride; and I will give thee to him with a joyful heart, for he loved thee in the days of our poverty and distress; so that one knows his love is for thee and thee alone, not for the fair dowry thou wilt presently bring."

Petronella hid her happy, blushing face on her brother's shoulder, and thus they stood awhile, till the girl drew back with a light shiver and said:

"Cuthbert, can it be right for us thus to stand thinking of our own happiness, whilst he lies there so still and cold?"

"I was just about to bid thee give me leave to bury him, whilst thou dost rest thyself awhile. We will not grudge him that last service; and it will be safer and better to do it here than to give notice of his death to the gipsies and outlaws, and so bring them down upon us in this place, provoking perchance their vengeance upon ourselves. I have here a spade, brought to dig after the treasure. I little thought it would first be used to dig Long Robin's grave. But the task had better be done, and that quickly. The man is dead as a stone. We will bury him away out of our sight ere we do aught beside."

Petronella assented with a slight shudder. She could not regret the death of the giant gipsy, who himself made so light of human life, and would have slain her brother before her eyes without a qualm. But she shivered each time she looked at the motionless form, and was glad when, after some hours of hard work beneath the trees, Cuthbert succeeded in dragging the corpse away and in covering it up from sight. Kneeling beside the rude grave, the girl breathed a prayer for the soul of the departed man, and repeated many an ave and paternoster, in the hope of smoothing for him his passage into eternity (being still considerably imbued with the teachings of her early life, which the newer and clearer faith had by no means eradicated), and then she rose comforted and relieved, feeling as though a dark weight had passed from her spirit.

Daylight had now come, and the girl was very weary. She looked so wan and white that Cuthbert was alarmed, and fed her tenderly with the best his wallet could supply; after which he took her up to his nest in the sycamore, first bringing the rug that was lying in the hollow tree to wrap around her. There he succeeded in making her so comfortable and secure that she fell asleep almost at once, and he was hopeful she would sleep the whole time of his absence, for she was worn out with fatigue, and only just recovering from an illness. How she had borne the fatigues of that night he scarce knew; but she possessed her share of the Trevlyn tenacity of purpose, and her strong will had conquered the feebleness of her frame.

It was a satisfaction to see her sink into a tranquil sleep, and secure in the certainty that she could not be seen by any person entering the dell. Certain that none but a chance traveller ever did come nigh this haunted spot, he was not afraid to leave her; and after studying the simple contrivance by which the round slab was raised and lowered in the well, he dropped it to its former position, and went on his way to the village with a light heart.

The secret of the lost treasure, he was fully certain, was now his; and though the work of rescue might require time and patience and labour, he was convinced it could be accomplished, and that he, with the help of his sister, should find himself competent for the task.

It was evening before he returned, but he found Petronella where he had left her. She had slept almost unbrokenly throughout the day, and was now greatly refreshed and invigorated. The air of the forest and the sweet breath of the pines were enough, as she said, to give her new life; and she descended eagerly to meet and greet her brother, and to examine the purchases he had made.

The first excitement was the ass who bore the heavy load. Cuthbert had had some trouble in making a way for the creature to pass down into the dell; but once here, he would never stray away of his own accord. Indeed, he appeared to have no disposition that way, for he began at once to crop the emerald sward around the well with an air of great contentment, whilst Cuthbert unloaded him and displayed his purchases to his sister.

"There is thy suit, young Peter," he said with a smile. "I trow thou wilt make a pretty boy, and wilt find thyself more fitted for our new life thus habited, and canst rove in the forest thus clad, an thou hast a mind that way, more safely than thou couldest in a maid's dress. And here is wine to put some colour into thy pale cheeks, and food to last us many a day, and blankets to wrap about us by night when the wind blows chill, and this heavy cloak to keep the rain from thee when the skies weep. And see, here is a rope which I trow will let me to the very bottom of the well, an we can once turn the water some other way; and the ass can drag me forth again-and the treasure likewise-when once this matter has been accomplished. The hot, dry weather is coming apace. Men say already that the springs be something low. All this favours our plans; and if I can find the spring that feeds this well, as like enough I may, then will I make shift to turn its waters another way, and the pixies' well shall be dry!"

Petronella gazed at him in surprise.

"Brother, whence comes all this knowledge to thee? I should never have dreamed such a thing might be!"

"But I have read of such things being done ere now," answered Cuthbert eagerly. "I have spent many an hour at Master Cole's shop upon the bridge reading of such matters-how men mine and counter-mine, and dig and delve, and sink wells and drain them, and do many strange things of which we never dreamed in past days. In times of war it is wondrous how many shifts of that or like kind they think of and perform. I little thought how soon I myself should want some such thing accomplished; but I read all eagerly, and Master Anthony Cole explained much that perplexed me; and I trow I might e'en do some such thing myself, with thee and this patient beast to help me in my toil!"

It was with undisguised admiration that Petronella regarded her brother, and very happy and merry was the meal taken together beside the well under the green-wood trees. It was hard to realize that this smiling girl, with the faint pink bloom in her cheek, and the bright eager eyes, was the cowed and sorrowful Petronella of a few days back. Cuthbert looked at her with glad pride as she talked to him and petted the docile ass, who came and stood beside them and got a full share of such things as were pleasant to his palate. Petronella had never had the care of a live thing before, and was delighted with the affection shown towards her at once by the gentle creature.

Her sleep that night in the tree was sound and refreshing; and when she joined Cuthbert, dressed in her suit of boys' garments; laughing, blushing, and delighted with the freedom of motion that they gave her; he found it hard to believe it was really Petronella, and vowed it would not be hard to call her Peter, for that there was little enough of the Petronella of old days to be found in her.

And from that day forward a happy life began for the brother and sister thus strangely located in the pixies' dell. Each day saw the girl growing stronger, brighter, and happier, till she could scarcely believe it was so short a time since she had fled from her father's house; whilst Cuthbert, intent upon his plans and his engineering operations, grew brown and muscular and self reliant, watching carefully and tenderly over his sister, but spending his time in healthful toil, and in working out self-imposed problems, confident that these would in the end succeed in enabling him to carry out the purpose of his heart.

The pixies' well proved very deep. Soundings taken by the rope showed that only too clearly. The water flowed three feet over the false bottom Robin had contrived the better to conceal his hiding place, whilst below that there was fully ten feet of water; and Petronella's face grew long as she saw the result of the sounding, for she could not imagine how any treasure could be got at that lay thirteen feet below the surface of the water.

"Never mind that, sister mine," said Cuthbert. "Belike it is to that very fact that it owes its long safety. Even Robin must have known that to bring it forth again must be a matter of time and patience. He could not visit it in a moment of haste or fright, and filch a piece away as he would. Doubtless the place was chosen by the old Long Robin of past days for the very difficulty there must be in bringing forth the prize. I have often thought that no buried treasure could so long have escaped prying hands and covetous spirits. Bit by bit some would have gone. It is the water that has been the best protection."

Petronella saw the force of that argument; but as she leaned over the wall, trying to peer into the dark depths whilst Cuthbert talked of his scheme for draining it dry, she heaved a little sigh, and said:

"And what if, after all that long labour, there be no treasure there in spite of all we believe?"

He looked a little taken aback, but was struck by the practical nature of the suggestion. He pondered awhile, and then he spoke.

"That is a thought worthy of consideration," he said. "It were a foolish thing to waste the whole summer only to be deceived in the end.

"Peter," he added suddenly, as if struck by a new idea, "I am no fearer of water. I can dive and swim, and I have long wind, and can hold my breath a great while. Thinkest thou that if I were to leap into the well and dive to the bottom, thou couldst give me the rope when I reappeared, and with the aid of the ass pull me forth again? I can dive through the water, I trow, albeit the well is none too wide. But I could not climb the steep stone sides; thou and the ass must help me there."

Petronella was a little timid of the experiment lest harm should befall her brother, and persuaded him at last to tie the rope about him ere he dived, so that in the event of his striking his head, or in any other way hurting himself, she would have power to pull him up and out, even if he should have lost consciousness. After making her promise not to use this power unless she were fully persuaded he was in some difficulty and unable to help himself, Cuthbert consented to this amendment; and when all preparations were complete he balanced himself for a moment on the edge of the well, and then launched himself downwards in a line as straight as an arrow.

Eagerly and breathlessly Petronella watched for his reappearance, holding her own breath the while, as though in some way that would help the diver. He was long gone, as it seemed to her. She had been forced to take one deep respiration, and was almost tempted to pull at the rope in her hand, when the water suddenly became again disturbed and full of bubbles, and a head appeared above it again.

"Cuthbert!" she exclaimed, in a tone of glad relief, "O Cuthbert, what hast thou found?"

He was clinging to the rope with one hand; the other was beneath the water out of sight. He raised his eyes, and said between his gasping breaths:

"Draw me up; the water is chill as ice!"

From the sound of his voice she could not tell whether success had crowned the attempt or not. She turned without another word, and led the donkey onwards, gently drawing Cuthbert from the depths of the well. As she did so he gave a sudden shout of triumph, and springing over the side of the wall, flung at her feet a solid golden flagon richly chased, with the arms of the Trevlyns engraved upon it.

"I scarce dared to look at what I had got as I came up!" he cried, as he sprang high into the air in the exuberance of his spirit; "but that will lay all doubt at rest. The lost treasure of Trevlyn is lost no longer, and Cuthbert and Petronella have found it!"

Chapter 18: "Saucy Kate."

"Wife, what ails the child?"

Lady Frances Trevlyn raised her calm eyes from her embroidery, and gave one swift glance around the room, as if to make sure that she and her husband were alone.

"Dost thou speak of Kate?" she asked then in a low voice.

"Ay, marry I do," answered Sir Richard, as he took the seat beside the glowing hearth, near to his wife's chair, which was his regular place when he was within doors. "I scarce know the child again in some of her moods. She was always wayward and capricious, but as gay and happy as the day was long-as full of sunshine as a May morning. Whence come, then, all these vapours and reveries and bursts of causeless weeping? I have found her in tears more oft these last three months than in all the years of her life before; and though she strives to efface the impression by wild outbreaks of mirth, such as we used of old to know, there is something hollow and forced about these merry moods, and the laugh will die away the moment she is alone, and a look will creep upon her face that I like not to see."

"Thou hast watched her something closely, Richard."

"Ay, truly I have. I would have watched any child of mine upon whom was passing so strange a change; but thou knowest that Kate has ever been dear to me-I have liked to watch her in her tricksy moods. She has been more full of affection for me than her graver sisters, and even her little whims and faults that we have had to check have but endeared her to me the more. The whimsies of the child have often brought solace to my graver cares. I love Kate right well, and like not to see this change in her. What dost thou think of it, goodwife?"

Lady Frances shook her head gravely.

"Methinks the child has something on her mind, and her sisters think so likewise, but what it is we none of us can guess. She keeps her secret well."

"It is not like Kate to have a secret; it is still less like her to hide it."

"That is what I feel. I have looked day by day and hour by hour for her to come to me or to thee to tell what is in her mind. But the weeks have sped by and her lips are still sealed, and, as thou sayest, she is losing her gay spirits, or else her gaiety is over wild, but doth not ring true; and there is a look in her eyes that never used to be there, and which I like not."

"I know the look well-one of wistful, unsatisfied longing. It goes to my heart to see it there. And hast thou noted that the bloom is paling in her cheeks, and that she will sit at home long hours, dreaming in the window seat or beside the hearth, when of old she was for ever scouring the woods, and coming home laden with flowers or ferns or berries? I like it not, nor do I understand it. And thou sayest her sisters know not the cause? I thought that young maidens always talked together of their secrets."

"Kate doth not. I have talked with Cecilia anent the matter, and she knows not the cause. Bess has opined that this change first appeared when it was decided that we went not to London this year, as we had talked of doing earlier in the summer. Bess says she noted then how disappointed Kate appeared; and she is of opinion that she has never been the same since."

Sir Richard stroked his beard with meditative gravity, and looked into the fire.

"It is true that the change has come upon her since that decision was made; and yet I find it something difficult to think that such was the cause. Kate never loved the life of the city, and was wild with delight when she first tasted the sweets of freedom in these woods and gardens. She loves her liberty right well, and has said a thousand times how glorious a thing it is to range at will as she does here. Capricious as the child has often shown herself, it is hard to believe that she is pining already for what she left with so glad a heart. It passes my understanding; I know not what to think."

Lady Frances raised her eyes for a moment to her husband's face, and then asked quietly:

"Hast thou ever thought whether some secret love may be the cause of all?"

The knight started and looked full at his wife.

"I have indeed thought some such thing, but I can scarce believe that such is the case with our Kate."

"Yet it is often so when maidens change and grow pale and dreamy, and sit brooding and thinking when erst they laughed and played. Kate is double the woman she was six months gone by. She will sit patiently at her needle now, when once she would throw it aside after one short hour; and she will seek to learn all manner of things in the still room and pantry that she made light of a short while back, as matters of no interest or concern to her. She would make an excellent housewife if she had the mind, as I have always seen; and now she does appear to have the mind, save when her fits of gloom and sadness be upon her, and everything becomes a burden."

Sir Richard looked aroused and interested. A smile stole over his face.

"Our saucy Kate in love, and that secretly! Marry, that is something strange; and yet I am not sorry at the thought, for I feared her fancy was something too much taken by her cousin Culverhouse; and since his father must look for a large dower for his son's bride, our Kate could never have been acceptable to him. Nor do I like the marriage of cousins so close akin, albeit in these times men are saying that there be no ill in such unions."

Lady Frances shook her head gravely.

"I would sooner see daughter of mine wedded in a lowlier sphere. My heart shrinks from the thought of seeing any child of ours in the high places of this world. There be snares and pitfalls abounding there. We have seen enough to know so much. There be bitter strivings and envyings and hatreds amongst those of lofty degree. I would have my children wed with godly and proper men; but I would sooner give them to simple gentlemen of no high-sounding title, than to those whose duties in life will call them to places round about the throne, and will throw them amidst the turmoil of Court life."

Sir Richard smiled at this unworldly way of looking at things; but the Trevlyns had suffered from being somewhat too well known at Court, and he understood the feeling.

"Truly we live in perilous times," he said thoughtfully, "and obscurity is often the best security for happiness and well being. But to return to Kate. If she is truly forgetting her girlish fancy for her cousin, as I would gladly believe-and she has not set eyes on him this year and more-towards whom can her fancy be straying?"

"Thou dost not think she can be pining after her cousin?"

"Nay, surely not," was the quick and decided answer. "Had she pined it would have been at the first, when they were separated from each other, and thou knowest how gay and happy she was then. It is but these past few months that we have seen the change. Depend upon it, there is some one else. Would that it might be good Sir Robert Fortescue, who has been here so much of late, and has paid much attention to our saucy Kate! Wife, what thinkest thou of that? He is an excellent good man, and would make a stanch and true husband. He is something old for the child, for sure; but there is no knowing how the errant fancy of maidenhood will stray."

"I would it might be so," answered Lady Frances. "Sir Robert is a good and a godly man, and I would gladly give our restless, capricious Kate to one who could be father and husband in one. But I confess the thought had not come to me, nor had I thought that he came hither to seek him a wife."

Sir Richard smiled meaningly.

"Nor had I until of late; but I begin to think that is his object. He pays more heed to the girls than he did when first he came to visit us, and he has dropped a word here and a hint there, all pointing in one direction. And dost thou not note that our Kate is often brightest and best when he is by? I had never thought before that her girlish fancy might have been caught by his gray hair and soldier-like air; yet many stranger things have happened. Wife, dost thou think it can be?"

"I would it were; it would be well for all. I will watch and see, and do thou likewise. I had not thought the child's fancy thus taken; but if it were so, I should rejoice. He would be a good husband and a kind one, and our headstrong second daughter will need control as well as love in the battle of life."

So the parents watched with anxious eyes, eager to see some indication which should encourage them in this newly-formulated hope. When once the idea had been started, it seemed to both as if nothing could be better than a marriage between their high-spirited but affectionate and warm-hearted daughter and this knight of forty summers, who had won for himself wealth and fame, and a soldier's reputation for unblemished honour and courage in many foreign lands. If not exactly the man to produce an immediate impression on the heart of a young girl, he might well win his way to favour in time; and certainly it did seem as though Kate took pleasure in listening to his stories of flood and field, whilst her bright eyes and merry saucy ways (for she was still her old bright self at times, and never more frequently so than in the company of Sir Robert) appeared very attractive to him.

When we are increasingly wishful for a certain turn in affairs, and begin sedulously to watch for it, unconsciously setting ourselves to work to aid and abet, and push matters on to the desired consummation, it is wonderful how easy it is to believe all is going as we wish, and to see in a thousand little trifling circumstances corroboration of our wishes. Before another fortnight had sped by, Kate's parents had almost fully persuaded themselves of the truth of their suspicion. They were convinced that the attachment between their child and their guest was advancing rapidly, and a day came when Sir Richard sought his wife with a very happy expression of countenance.

"Well, wife, the doubt will shortly be at an end. Sir Robert has spoken openly at last."

"Spoken of his love for our Kate?"

"Not in these words, but the meaning is the same. He has asked me if I am willing to entrust one of my daughters to his keeping."

"One of our daughters?" repeated Lady Frances. "And did he not name Kate? He cannot love them all."

"He spoke of Cecilia and Kate both," answered Sir Richard. "Sir Robert is not a hot-headed youth, full of the fire of a first passion. He wishes an alliance with our house, and he sees that Cecilia, with her four years' seniority, would perchance in the eyes of the world be the more suitable wife; and he admires her beauty, and thinks well of her dutifulness, her steadiness, and her many virtues. Yet it is Kate that takes his fancy most, and if he could hope to win the wayward fancy and the warm heart of our second child, she is the one whom he would fain choose as his own. He has spoken freely and frankly to me, and it comes to this: he would willingly marry Cecilia, and doubtless make her an excellent husband, and value the connection with the house of Trevlyn; but if he could succeed in winning the love of our saucy Kate, he would sooner have her than the more staid sister, only he fears his gray hairs and his wrinkles will unfit him as a suitor for the child. But we, who suspect her heart of turning towards him, have little fear of this. Kate's sharp eyes have looked beneath the surface. She has shown that she has a wise head upon her shoulders. So I told Sir Robert-"

"Not that the child had loved him unbidden, I trust, my husband? I would not have him think that!"

"Verily no, goodwife; but I told him there was no man living to whom I would more gladly give a daughter of mine; and that I would sound both of the maidens, and see how their hearts were set towards him. But I trow he went away happy, thinking he might win Kate after all. I could not but whisper a word of hope, and tell him how wondrous tame the wild bird had latterly become, and how that her mother had wondered whether thoughts of love had entered into her head."