"And she, Wenna, she's very pretty. She's more than pretty."
"There's the devil in her."
"Let's be fair. I don't think she means ..."
"Not mean! She's been working for it. She looks at any, who'll be duped, with those great big eyes of hers. I never did like green ones. There's something of the devil in green eyes. I never yet knew any green-eyed person that hadn't got wickedness in them ..."
"No, Wenna. That's not true."
"You're too soft, my precious. You're too good and kind. You're like your mother."
"I don't know whether she planned it, but he did . . . from the moment he saw that they could get away."
112 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS
"What did happen? Tell Wenna."
"There was trouble in Liskeard. It was outside Anna Quale's cottage. The mob was there and she took it upon herself to interfere with them."
"She would!"
"They didn't like it, Wenna, she being a foreigner."
"The impudence! I wonder they didn't tear her limb from limb."
"They might have done. But he was watching her and I was watching him. He was off his horse before any of us could do anything . . . and he looked as if he would have killed anyone who laid a hand on her. He got her on to her horse and they galloped away. It seemed some time before John and I realized what had happened. It could only have been for a second or two though. Then John said: 'We'd better go. . . .' And the people just parted and made way for us ... looking ashamed of themselves. It was because they knew who we were, I suppose. In any case, there was never any question of their touching us. We couldn't find those two, Wenna. We didn't know where they'd gone."
"They gave 'ee the slip then. They gave 'ee the slip on purpose."
"That was his intention."
"Hers too. Depend upon it."
"Then we came home and they came home. At least they came home not much more than half an hour after us."
"Half an hour be long enough for mischief, and they wouldn't want to call attention to themselves."
"Oh, Wenna, I'm so unhappy."
"There, there, my dearie. Why don't 'ee tell him you've done with him?"
"I can't, Wenna. I'll never be done with him."
"Why, you could stay here and there'd be Wenna always to look after and comfort 'ee."
"Wherever I go you'll be there to look after and comfort me."
"I know. Bless 'ee for that. We'll never be parted, my little love. But he's not the one for you."
"He is, Wenna. He is. There's one thing that frightens me. What if he is so much in love with her that he wants to marry her!"
"Not he! Who be she then? Somebody's bastard! Oh yes, you can be shocked, my pretty, but that's what she be. I know it. Some light o' love had a baby she didn't want, and she be it. Master Fermor's a proud man. So be his family. They don't marry the likes of her, no matter how green their eyes be."
"That sort of marriage has happened."
"She'd need the devil and all his spells to bring it off. He ain't given no sign that he's thinking of backing out of marriage with you?"
"No, Wenna."
"Well, don't 'ee fret about that. You'll marry him, my love; and to my way of thinking, one man ain't much worse than another. You'll have trouble with him . . . like this day. You'll always have that sort of trouble. But we'll fight trouble when it comes. We'll fight it together. Wenna would die for you, my precious. Wenna would kill for you. If I had her here now I'd take her throat in my two hands and wring it like I would the neck of a chicken for the boiling pot."
*'Oh, Wenna, you're a comfort to me."
"Don't 'ee fret, my dear. Wenna's beside 'ee."
Caroline was quiet then. She lay still with her eyes closed while Wenna thought of the slender neck in her strong hands, and the green eyes, wide with horror, staring dumbly, asking for mercy which should not be given.
There was quietness throughout the house. In half an hour it would be midnight.
In her room, Melisande waited, her cloak wrapped about her, her shoes in her hand.
A board in the corridor creaked. Melisande was tense, listening.
Cautiously she opened her door and a small plump figure glided in.
Peg said: "Be you ready then, Mamazel?"
"Yes, Peg."
Peg whispered: "The back door be unbolted. Mrs. Soady said not to forget to bolt it when we did come in. We'll pick up- the food as we go out. 'Tis all ready. Come."
They tiptoed downstairs, every now and then pausing to make sure that no one in the house was stirring; down the back staircase, through to the servants' hall, where they could breathe more freely, for if they awakened any of the servants that would be of no great importance as the adventure had the blessing of Mrs. Soady.
Into the great stone kitchen they went, where two neat packages lay on the table.
" 'Tis roast fowl," whispered Peg. "Tamson Trequint be terrible partial to roast fowl. Mrs. Soady said she'd give a beautiful spell for a wing or a bit of the breast. Now then ... be you ready?"
"Yes," said Melisande.
1(14 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS
"Then come on."
Out through the back door they went.
"Keep close to the house," whispered Peg, "just in case someone has heard and looks from the windows."
But they had to cross the park.
"Hurry," said Peg. "We must be there by midnight. That be terrible important. A midnight spell be the best you can have. More like to work ... so says Mrs. Soady; and her'd know, being a pellar."
When they reached the high road, Melisande turned to look about her. The country was touched with the white magic of the moon; it cast a light path on the waters. The rocks looked like crouching giants; on the water there gleamed an occasional phosphorescent light, ghostly and fascinating.
"What be looking at?" demanded Peg. "What be over there by the sea?"
"It's so beautiful."
"Oh, 'tis only the old sea."
"But look at the shadows there."
"Only they old rocks."
"And the lights! Look! They come and go."
"'Tis mackerel . . . nothing more. Them lights do mean we'll have mackerel the next few days . . . like as not. Come on. Do 'ee want a midnight spell, Mamazel, or did 'ee come out to look for mackerel?"
It was eerie in the woods. Some of the trees gleamed silver like ghosts from another world, others were black and menacing like grotesque human shapes. Now and then there would be a movement in the undergrowth.
"What be that?" cried Peg.
"A rat? A rabbit?"
"I've heard of people what comes out alone at night being carried off."
"We're not alone."
"No! I wouldn't have come out alone . . . not for a farm . . . not for roast fowl every day of my life. That I wouldn't. The Little People don't carry 'ee off in twos, so 'tis said. All the same, I be scared. Better say Jack o' lantern."
Peg began in a trembling voice:
"Jack o' Lantern, Joan the Wad, Who tickled the maid and made her mad, Light me home; the weather's bad ..."
"But we do not want to be lighted home and the weather is not bad," pointed out Melisande.
"Well, we dursen't say 'Light me to the witch's cave.' I don't know that piskies be terrible fond of witches. I do reckon we might get pisky-led if we was alone. I'm terrible glad we'm not."
They pushed on, and Peg screamed when a low branch caught her hair and she could not immediately extricate herself. They both felt that at any moment they would see hundreds of little figures making a ring round them, tickling them until they were mad, leading them away to regions below the earth. But Melisande was able to release Peg, and after that, they took to running; and they did not stop until they reached Tamson's hut.