Part 30 (2/2)

Derrick held her with his left arm, and levelled his pistol with his right.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Dare to come one step nearer, and I fire.”

_Page 335._]

”Dare to come one step nearer, and I fire. You know, fellow, whether or not I shall miss my mark!”

The two men stood looking at each other in deep silence for a few seconds, deadly rage and baffled hate on one face, on the other stern wrath and dauntless determination. At last the hireling with an oath turned his horse, and galloped back the way he had come. Revenge was sweet, and so was gold; but he cared not to purchase either at the price of life or limb.

”Thou art safe, sweetheart!” said Derrick, bending his head and touching her cheek with his lips. ”Heaven be thanked that I was so hindered in my start for Dublin this day, that I had perforce to wait for moon-rise to sally forth. And now I will take thee home, dear love; and we will tell thy tale to my father, who will see thee safe guarded in the future.”

Derrick Adair quickly procured the release of Mona's father, and married the daughter in the following year. Later on, after the rather tragic death of Bishop Leslie (caused doubtless by the conduct of his son, who was forced to fly the country after some notorious ill deed), the vacant office was bestowed upon Derrick, now a rising light in the Church, and he became Bishop of Raphoe, and his wife ruled in the old castle which was the home of its prelates.

Once a wretched-looking beggarman crawled to the gate as she was pa.s.sing forth, and fell exhausted at her feet, asking alms.

She gazed at his face awhile, and he into hers; they knew each other, and the wretched man cowered against the stones, while the lady hastened indoors, to set servants or dogs upon him as the wretched man believed; for he was none other than the ex-jailer who had sought to do her so much ill. But quickly she returned with food and wine, and a handful of silver. She set the basket before him, and poured the money into his hands--stretched forth in supplication; and she gently made answer to his faltering words of prayer:

”Have no fear, my poor fellow. May G.o.d forgive you as I do. Eat and drink, and refresh yourself ere you go upon your way.”

”And you will not punish me? You will not take your revenge!”

She looked gravely and sorrowfully at him as she answered:

”I think that G.o.d has punished you; that is His office, not ours; and for the rest--that is my revenge.”

JESSY VARCOE

”There goes the witch's darter! Yonder goes the witch's maid! Heave a stone at the likes of her, lads! 'Tidden fitty as such sp.a.w.n should live!”

Poor Jessy had grown up with taunts like these in her ears, till she had come to be too well used to them to pay much heed. Sometimes a stone would strike her; but she could throw as well as any lad along the coast, and she had proved as much upon the persons of her persecutors many a time and oft. On the whole the children and the lads and girls of Morwinstow had come to think it best to leave Jessy alone, especially since it had been whispered that she was learning the black art from her old grandmother, the Black Witch of the neighbourhood, and could overlook an enemy, or curse him and his goods and smite his crops with blasting and mildew.

So Jessy's life was perforce a lonely one. No kith or kin had she ever known save her old grandmother who lived in the hut upon the rolling downs land, not far from the margin of the cliffs. The old woman went out by night to gather herbs and simples, and these she brewed over the fire by day, muttering her strange incantations the while.

Although she was known as a Black Witch in her own neighbourhood, there were many persons who bought her wares, and found them excellent for sprains, rheumatics, and the like. But n.o.body visited in a friendly way at the lonely hut save certain wild and fierce-looking men, who always came at night, and were generally laden with packs of merchandise, which they hid away in some secret hiding-place beneath the floor of the cottage.

This much Jessy knew from peeping through the crevices in the floor of the upper room where she slept. She was never permitted to be present when these men came. She was sent to bed up the rickety ladder; and the ladder was invariably removed, so that she could not get down if she would, the bolt in the trapdoor by which she reached her attic being always drawn by the grandmother.

As the child grew to girlhood, she began to understand very well the nature of these visits from seafaring men. They brought smuggled goods to be concealed beneath the witch's hut, well knowing that n.o.body would willingly run the risk of being cursed or overlooked by the old woman.

Moreover, Jessy had reason to believe that the cottage masked an entrance into a very large cave, which was probably a valuable hiding-place; for she always noted the extreme civility with which the rough men treated her grandmother, and how anxious they seemed to please her in the bargains that they made.

Nor was Jessy in any way disturbed by the knowledge of what was going on. Smuggling was a regular trade all along the coast, and she regarded it as a matter of course.

As the old grandmother grew more and more infirm, Jessy was of necessity taken more into her confidence, and soon found that her suspicions were quite correct. The old woman received the contraband goods from the smugglers, and hid them in the recesses of the great cave--the secrets of which were known only to herself; and though very occasionally the revenue officers came to the cottage and insisted upon examining the place most carefully, they never discovered the secret hiding-place. For the small cave was only the ante-chamber to a very much larger one behind, and the entrance to the latter was so cleverly masked that it was long before even Jessy could learn the trick of the sliding shale of rock, though she had been shown it many times by her grandmother.

Exciting scenes were often witnessed along the coast in those days; and b.l.o.o.d.y scenes were enacted between the smugglers and the ”gaugers” or revenue officers, in which lives were often lost. One gauger, more resolute than some of his predecessors, after having killed many desperate smugglers himself, was dragged bodily into a boat that he was pursuing, whilst his head was chopped off on the gunwale and flung into the sea.

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