Trevethlan: A Cornish Story. Volume 3

His old sweetheart, Mercy, was not to be tempted into wedlock. Helen renewed her confidence with the fair rustic, and introduced her to Mildred. But she never forgot her unworthy lover. She scarcely believed he was lost to her forever; but sometimes felt a transient fear that, in a foreign land, he might have found the fate predicted for him by the old sibyl of St. Madron's Well. But no intelligence ever arrived, either to confirm or to contradict the maiden's apprehensions.

Mildred had been only a very short time at the castle when she was introduced to Merlin's Cave. We cannot close our labours without reverting for a moment to the grotto, which possessed so many associations for Randolph and Helen. Few of our readers, we would believe, will not, at some period of their lives, have had a Merlin's Cave of their own. Seated under the little canopy of rock, the young bride learned the traditional ballad of her new home, and trusted that it might never again be applicable to the fortunes of the family. There too she became acquainted with the black-letter lore, which of old was the delight of her husband and sister; and there in long detail she heard the story of their early ambition. On Mid-summer eve they all repaired thither to witness the lighting of St. John's fires. Then as the shades of evening fell over the sea, long streams of radiance rose into the sky from all the numerous villages surrounding the beautiful bay. From Carn Dew over Lamorna Cove all round to Cudden Point, the landscape sparkled with the festive bonfires. The spectators might hear the sounds of distant revelry borne from afar over the waters, and echoed more loudly from the green of their own hamlet.

At the trial of the prisoners charged with the incendiarism at Pendarrel, it was suggested, in their defence, that the fire was occasioned by the lightning. Gabriel Denis kept his own counsel. And the doubt so raised, combined with certain powerful intercession, availed to mitigate the extreme penalties of the law. Of the criminals, some were transported for various terms, and others imprisoned. Gabriel's little girl was brought up at Trevethlan Castle, and caused no small trouble, with her hot Spanish blood. But it was endured, in remembrance of the confession of the witness, Wyley.

The long vacation brought Rereworth to the castle, and few days had passed when he communicated to Randolph, Helen's sanction of his dearest aspirations. And the brother rejoiced at the news, and warmly congratulated both himself and his friend. Seymour thought himself fortunate in obtaining a house, with pleasant grounds attached, in the neighbourhood where he had first met the lady of his love; and thither, in the space of a few months, he had the joy of conducting her as his bride. And Helen cordially accepted her new abode, shared her husband's hopes, and encouraged his professional ambition. She might be unable to repress an occasional regret for the land of her infancy, childhood, and youth, but the feeling was never visible in the company of her friend, lover, and husband.

Some years elapsed before Mrs. Pendarrel revisited the country of her ancestors. She was content to see Mildred and Randolph, when they came to stay a while with the Winstons or Rereworths, which they did every spring. She had subsided into a moping kind of melancholy, which annoyed her husband and grieved her children. The only circumstance which ever seemed to dissipate it was the growing good understanding between Gertrude and Mr. Winston. This appeared to remove some of the weight which oppressed her mind. And it showed, that if those who are cast together by accident, or even against their will, will study one another's merits, instead of seeking for faults and dwelling on discomforts, happiness may be found in circumstances where least it might be expected beforehand. It was a lesson which Gertrude learned with a thankful heart.

The visits of the spring were returned in the autumnal holidays, when a joyous throng of young people met regularly, in the course of time, at Trevethlan Castle. Holidays they were indeed. The Rereworths were always there, and most often the Winstons. Then the base court resounded with the glee of children, with a confusion of tongues and of names worthy of Babel. Griffith, declining gently into the vale of years, presided over the gambols. Sometimes the ancient sport of archery, the loss of which is so much deplored by Cornwall's old surveyor, Carew, was revived, and all the neighbouring country met to try their skill at the butts; while the little ones, escaping from the mild dominion of Polydore Riches, who was now, in green old age, the teacher of a new generation, mimicked the proceedings of their seniors, with bows and arrows suited to their years.

Pendarrel Hall remained a ruin. The estate was settled upon Mildred and her husband, and it seemed unnecessary to maintain two large residences upon the united property. The flower-garden surrounding it was allowed to run to waste, and the blackened walls continued standing, mournful memorials of an outrage which had exiled several of its perpetrators from their native land. Ivy was planted around the foundations, and at some future day, the ruin might become a picturesque feature in the landscape.

It was the doom which its mistress, in the opening of this narrative, anticipated for the towers of Trevethlan. The menace or the desire had been deeply avenged. But Esther was not the only person upon whom the storm left traces of its passage. Mildred was often visited with feelings of compunction and remorse, and the cloud which they brought upon her brow called down a similar shadow upon Randolph's. And when her mother survived Mr. Pendarrel, and in her loneliness accepted the shelter of Trevethlan Castle, her aspect and demeanour were a constant source of self-reproach to her daughter. Without being actually imbecile, she required minute attention. She was very rigid and exacting in all the little business of life. Her temper was uncertain, and it was difficult to gratify her fleeting wishes. At times it might be thought that she remembered how she should have been mistress of the castle, and imagined for a brief space that she in fact occupied that position.

Frequently, too, she fell into long and silent reveries, and then it was that the melancholy which overspread her countenance, caused the greatest anxiety to her children. She always wore the miniature of herself, and used to gaze at it, with a vacant but mournful expression, for an hour at a time. But at length they found a means of diverting her attention. She attached herself particularly to her eldest grand-daughter; and whenever she sank into too prolonged a train of musing, the little girl crept softly to her knees, and took her hand. And then Esther awoke from her dream of the past, and smoothed the dark hair upon the child's forehead, and told many little stories, which delighted the young listener.

Rarely did it happen that this manner of relief failed of effect. But sometimes Esther's abstraction was too deep to yield. At such seasons she murmured to herself in low tones. And the little girl caused her mother a bitter pang, by unwittingly telling her that, on one of these occasions, grandmamma was only repeating, over and over again, and without intermission—

"Pendar'l and Trevethlan shall own one name."THE END