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

Kate was glad of the assurance Petronella's words had given her when she was presently summoned before her relatives, and stood in the dim panelled room before their straight-backed chairs, feeling the stern eyes of Lady Humbert fixed full upon her, whilst she heard that her father and brother had already left, since it was only pain and grief to them to be beneath the same roof as their obdurate and disobedient daughter and sister.

Kate received the lecture addressed her by the mistress of the house with all becoming humility, and without that sinking of heart that she might otherwise have felt at the cold stern tone; and she gladly passed her word, when desired to do so, not to go beyond the precincts of the great walled garden without special permission. In her walks and rides abroad she was always to be attended, and was to promise never to slip away from her escort. If she would faithfully promise this, she might be allowed the companionship of Ellen Wyvern, now a guest beneath the roof of Cross Way House; and to give this promise cost Kate no pang, for she had no feverish desire after unfettered liberty, but was content to await the time she knew must shortly come now, when Culverhouse would come to claim her for his own, and would find her no longer the portionless maiden she once had been, but dowered with some of the rich spoil from that long-lost hoard.

Supper was served in solemn state in the dining parlour, and the two girls sat with their aged relatives to partake of it. Petronella was a little sad that Philip had gone without even knowing of her presence beneath that roof: but she was certain their meeting would not be much longer delayed, and was content to wait. The Wyvern sisters did not keep a great establishment, as their means were not large, though they clung to the old house which had come down to them, and would have sacrificed much rather than sell it. But Kate soon discovered that the largest rooms were shut up and partially dismantled in order that comfort should reign in those parts of the house that were habitually used; that the staff of servants was but small; and that of these nearly all were old men and women who had grown gray and enfeebled in the service of the family, and were kept on by the present mistresses, who themselves disliked any changes in their establishment, and who could hardly see their way to finding the wages that able-bodied servants would look to receive. So they lived in this very quiet fashion, surrounded by retainers almost as aged as themselves, and led on the whole a happy and a placid life. Petronella was proving of so much use that the burden of her maintenance was not felt, and Sir Richard Trevlyn made generous arrangements for the cost of his daughter. But there was something altogether quaint and curious in the life of the house, and Kate thought it exceedingly interesting even before the first evening had passed.

Yet all the while she was longing to hear Petronella's tale, and was glad when the tapestry work was put away, and formal good nights had been exchanged. The girls ran up to the guest chamber prepared for Kate, which they had agreed to share together from that time forth. It did not take them long to slip into bed; and old Dyson, the waiting woman, who also acted as housekeeper, came quickly in to see that the lights were safely extinguished, after which only the glow of the fire illuminated the darkness of the big room; and Kate in an eager whisper begged Petronella to lose no time in telling her tale.

With breathless eagerness she heard of the girl's flight from home, and of her rescue of Cuthbert from the very jaws of death. She could not understand Petronella's shuddering horror at the thought of having killed a man.

"I would have killed fifty, and been glad to rid the earth of them were they such wretches as Long Robin!" she cried.

Then in deep silence she heard of Cuthbert's dive into the well, and of the golden flagon he had brought up as an earnest of what was to come. Petronella went on to say that, having made absolutely sure of the presence of the treasure in the well, Cuthbert had then directed all his energies to detecting the sources of the hidden springs that fed it, and after long search and patience had satisfied himself that it was filled by two, both rising in the high ground not far distant.

He had then set to work to see how these waters could be diverted so as to leave the well dry at his will; and though it had taken months to perform this feat, and had only been done at the cost of immense labour and trouble, still it had been done, and one day in early September the brother and sister had stood together to see the water ebbing slowly and more slowly away, until at last their eyes beheld a vast quantity of silver and gold lying exposed at the bottom of the well, and knew that the lost treasure of Trevlyn was theirs indeed.

But their labours were not yet ended. It was plain to both that they must quickly find some safe spot whither they could transport it all, else some passing traveller might even now see and report what he had seen, and so rob them of the fruit of their toil.

Afraid to go to Trevlyn Chase for help, lest the news should in some way leak out to Nicholas at the Gate House, and also because the brother and sister had set their hearts on accomplishing the task entirely alone, it suddenly entered Cuthbert's head to take his sister to the Cross Way House, and ask of its owners protection for her through the approaching inclement season; and then, if satisfied that these Wyvern kinswomen were to be trusted, and were friendly of disposition towards them, to whisper the secret of the treasure trove in their ears, and ask leave to deposit it all within the great strongroom underground, that the Wyvern house had always boasted, and of which the secret was known to very few.

This was the plan that had been carried out. His reception by Lady Humbert, and her kindness to the lonely Petronella when her pitiful story was told, quite decided Cuthbert to confide the golden secret to her. She listened in amaze, but was highly pleased at being the first person to know it. She laid her hand on Cuthbert's head, and spoke to him of the old saw which predicted that fortune should return to the Wyverns through the daughters' sons, and declared that he was fulfilling the prophecy she had longed to live to see come true. Cuthbert trusted that such indeed would be the case, but did not know whether the Wyverns had any lot or share in the treasure trove. Whereat the old lady smiled, and said that she laid no claim to the gold-it was none of theirs, and never would be; but still, with her hand on Cuthbert's head, she declared that after herself and her sister he should reign at the Cross Way House, and that his share of the treasure, which in all sooth should be a large one, since but for him it might never have been found, would go to restore the fallen fortunes of the house, and to fulfil in very truth the fondly-cherished prediction.

Cuthbert's amazement had naturally been great; but this fair prospect held out to him had but given greater zest to his enterprise. Not to a single soul in the house would Lady Humbert confide the secret, lest amongst themselves the faithful old servants should gossip, and rumour get abroad that the lonely house was worth attacking. In the dead of night, upon appointed dates, Cuthbert brought to a certain iron-barred window the laden ass bearing his costly burden, and Petronella and Lady Humbert themselves received the treasure and bore it piece by piece to the secret room. Not a creature slept on that side of the house-not a living being knew what was passing in the dead hours of the night; and in this fashion the treasure was being brought, Cuthbert descending the well, into which a little water had now filtered-enough to conceal the treasure from a passing observer if such there should chance to be-and with the assistance of their four-footed friend, drawing up as much as the patient beast could carry, and transporting it by night to this very house.

"When all is done," concluded Petronella-"and every load we think must surely be the last, there is so much of it-then he will forth to seek the gipsy in the forest, and tell her that the task is done. After that he will to London, to see how it fares with his cousins there, and to tell my uncle something of his tale, demanding, as I right well believe, the hand of our cousin Cherry in wedlock, since he may now support a wife in all comfort and ease. When that is done he will hither again, and Lady Humbert will ask to her house a gathering of kinsfolk for the Yuletide festival. And then the great secret will be told. The treasure will be divided between the Trevlyns assembled beneath this roof; and I trow, sweet Kate, that my Lord Culverhouse will contrive to be here, and that when the good news has been told to all, he will have small work in getting the parental blessing for those nuptials that will be celebrated anew with pomp and rejoicing, and will make thee in very truth, and without shadow of a doubt, the Viscountess Culverhouse."

Kate, laughing and quivering, clasped Petronella in her arms, as she cried between laughter and tears:

"And when that good hap befalls me, sweet Petronella, I will warrant that Philip will be in no wise behind in claiming his bride, and that thou as well as I shalt find that the recovered treasure of Trevlyn has smoothed our path to wedded happiness!"

Chapter 20: How It Fared With Cherry

"Gramercy! what next, I wonder! Here's a pretty kettle of fish! I always did say that no good came of letters. I wish folks had more sense than to spend their time writing! I never get a letter but what it brings a peck of bother with it."

Mistress Susan Holt was the speaker. She held in her hand a piece of paper which she was eying with many a scornful sniff. It had been left at the bridge house by a courier riding through to Westminster from the south country, and Martin Holt had called his sister down to his business parlour to open and read the missive.

He now looked up from his books with a pardonable curiosity to say:

"Well, sister Susan, letters do not trouble thee oft. And what may be the news in this one? and from whom comes it?"

"From Prudence Dyson."

"Prudence at the Cross Way House? And what says she? it is long since we had news of her."

"So long that I had almost forgot where she was: and I marvel she should trouble us thus. Thy daughters are not serving wenches, Martin. What can Prudence be thinking of?"

Martin smiled slightly. It seemed to him that beneath his sister's iron rule his daughters did little but toil after the fashion of serving wenches from morning to night. As for Susan herself, she worked harder than any servant she had ever had beneath her sway.

"What says the letter?" he asked briefly; "what is the matter that angers thee?"

"I am not angry," answered Susan sharply. "I trust I know my duty better as a Christian than to be angered over trifles. I am but surprised at such a request. Prudence Dyson asks if I can spare one of my nieces and thy daughters to dwell for a while at Cross Way House, to help her with her duties there."

Martin Holt did not appear to see anything very unreasonable or extraordinary in that request.

"What has caused her to wish it?" he asked quietly. "Is she in any way ill or disabled?"

"It is not that; it is that there be two young ladies of gentle birth dwelling now beneath Lady Humbert's care. Prudence desires to give them all due tendance and service; but as thou knowest, Martin, the household purse there is not deep, and Prudence strives might and main to do all she can to save her kind mistress from needless cost. She is striving now to attend herself upon all four ladies; and she says that the young maidens are very kindly and gentle and helpful. But she likes not to see them wait upon themselves, and she knows that my Lady Humbert would wish them to have all needful service. Wherefore she asks if thou couldst spare a daughter to go thither for a while to help her by waiting on the young damsels. And I-"

"Well, and wherefore not?" said Martin, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Prudence is a good woman, and my dead wife loved her best of all her family. I know that Lady Humbert is a woman into whose house any father might trust his daughter without a fear. As for the question of serving wenches, I trow the wench who goes will have an easier time than the sisters who abide at home. Susan, I think it only right to help Prudence in this matter; I can see no reason against so doing."

Susan seldom opposed the master of the house, but she looked a little sour and displeased.

"We shall have Christmas upon us right soon; we can ill spare any hands then," she said.

"O-ho! So it is the thought of thine own pies and stuffed meats that weighs with thee!" said Martin with a laugh. "Then I will tell thee what I will do. I will send Cherry, whom thou art ever chiding for being useless to thee. She shall go to wait upon the two young madams and help good Prudence at the Cross Way House, and thou shalt keep thy two useful nieces at home with thee."

Susan's brow cleared somewhat, but she made a movement of her bony shoulders indicative of scorn.

"Cherry may go with all my heart, for she is idler and more useless than ever, and does naught from morning to night but sit at the window, watching the folks in the street, and turning from red to pale and pale to red as though she were a bride looking for the arrival of her bridegroom. I have no patience with such ways. I knew no good would come of always spoiling the child. I can do naught with her now; she heeds not a word I say. Ofttimes she does not even know that I am speaking to her. She may go, and welcome! but I misdoubt me that Prudence will thank thee for the loan. Much good and much service she will get out of Keren Happuch!"

Martin Holt looked thoughtfully at his sister.

"That is partly why I am glad the child should go. I too have seen a change in her. Methinks she is feeling the long hot summer in the city. There be many that have told me that she is not looking as she should do. This idleness shows something of indisposition, I take it. Doubtless she will receive benefit from a change of air and occupation. She loves to be in the open air, and at the Cross Way House there will be gardens and pleasaunces and orchards where she may perchance be suffered to wander at will. Prudence will be kind to her, and I shall send her gladly."

Susan again made her peculiar gesture, as much as to say that she washed her hands of responsibility in the matter.

"She is thy daughter-do as thou wilt, Martin; but I warn thee that no good will come of it. Going amongst ladies will make her think herself a finer lady than ever: and now as it is she will scarce deign to soil her dainty hands with anything coarser than the making of light pastry. Thou wilt spoil her for a city man's wife; and I know not how Abraham Dyson will take it. Prudence is his sister, to be sure, and it is to do her a kindness; but Jacob wants a useful wife-and, as I understood, they were resolved not to delay the marriage beyond Christmas. Rachel has been six months wed, and the house wants a mistress who can move about and look to things."

Martin was looking very thoughtful. He did not reply for a while, and then he said slowly:

"Send the child to me, Susan; I will speak to her of this myself."

"Ay, thou hadst best do so, for I might as well speak to the walls as to Keren Happuch," said Mistress Susan as she went on her way up the stairs, by no means pleased at the easy fashion in which her brother took this matter.

Susan loved a grand fuss and talk and discussion over every trifle in the day's round, and this was more than a trifle. Her tongue was as active as her hands, and she would talk by the hour as she worked, until those about her grew weary of the very sound of her voice.

Martin Holt, who was fully alive to his sister's many virtues and valuable qualities, did find her something of a trial also, and it never struck him as at all inexplicable that the self willed and impetuous little Cherry should often be at loggerheads with her aunt.

As she stole down the staircase and stood before him with a wondering, questioning look in her big eyes, he eyed her keenly, and could not but see that some of the bloom had faded from her cheeks, and that she had in some way changed during the past months.

"Cherry," he said, taking her small hand in his and speaking in an unwontedly gentle way, "has thy aunt told thee wherefore I want thee?"

"No, father; she said that thou wouldst tell me."

"And so I will; but tell me first if there is aught amiss with thee. I have missed thy laugh of late, and thou hast lost some of thy roses. Does aught ail thee, child?"

Sudden tears welled up in Cherry's eyes; her lip began to tremble.

"I know not, I know not," she answered, with a little sob. "It only seems sometimes as though I could not bear the life any longer; it is all so drear, so dull, so dead! one day like another-always the same. Sometimes I think the narrow house will stifle me! O father, chide me not; I have struggled against the feeling, but the life is killing me! I know not how to bear it-alone."