Part 10 (1/2)
”Nay, Sir; you must get the key first, for the man don't bide at the cottage, except in summer-time, and the gate has got spikes at the top.
Miss Harry has got it somewheres, if you'll wait a minute.”
Miss Harry herself brought it out to him. She had changed her attire for what was an even more becoming one than that she had worn before, and her bright brown hair was arranged with greater care, and perhaps with more view to effect.
”The guide has not begun his duties yet, Sir,” she explained, with a smile; ”and so we keep the key here. You can't fail to find the road; but the precipice-path is a bit awkward in a wind like this, and you must be careful to take the right one; the old ledge was broken in by the storm last month, and has an ugly gap.”
”But why not show me the way yourself, Miss Harry?” pleaded the young fellow. ”You know how easily I lose myself; and if I should come to harm, by taking the wrong turning, you would be sorry, I'm sure.”
”Indeed I should, Sir,” returned the young girl, simply; ”and I doubt whether you will find any body else in the village. This news from the mine has taken them all off, it seems; and you wouldn't know rock from castle, unless you had one to tell you, they are so alike.”
The fact was that Harry's conscience smote her for her wish to be of service to this handsome young fellow, since she had just refused to accompany Solomon to Dunloppel, on the score of fatigue. It was level walking, or nearly so, to the pit-mouth, and it was a climb of many hundreds of feet to the ruin. Still, she felt no longer tired, if she had done so a while ago, and the stranger _might_ come to harm without a guide.
”But you're not coming without a bonnet?” exclaimed Richard.
”Nay, Sir; I should come home without one if I went up yonder in such a wind as this,” answered she, laughing; ”and I recommend you to fasten on _your_ hat, if you wish to see it again.”
”But you'll catch cold,” urged Richard.
”We don't mind air at Gethin, Sir; and this shawl will cover my head, if that's all.”
It really was Harry Trevethick's custom to go bareheaded in fine weather about her own home, though, perhaps, the consciousness that she never looked so well in even her Sunday head-gear, as with her own ample tresses for a covering, may have influenced her resolve. Chignons were unknown at that time, and never had the young man beheld such wealth of gold-tinged locks as that which blew about his fair companion's brow, and presently streamed out behind her, as they neared the cliffs, and met the full force of that Atlantic breeze. It blew freshly and shrilly enough up the winding gorge through which they had to descend to the foot of the castled rock; but by the time they reached the beach the wind had risen to a gale. They stopped a minute within shelter of a hollowed cliff to view the place. It was a n.o.ble spectacle. The great waves came roaring in, and dashed themselves against the walls of slate in sheets of foam, to fall back baffled and groaning. They had eaten the cliff away in two dark frowning spots, which his guide said were caverns, approachable at low-water; but the rock itself on which the castle stood defied them; they had only succeeded in insulating it, except for a narrow tongue of land, which now formed the sole access to it from the sh.o.r.e. Even without any historical or poetic a.s.sociation, the object before them--rising bare and sheer into the air to such a height--on which a swarm of gulls, shrunk to the size of bees, were clanging faintly, was grand and striking; but the place had been the hold of knights and kings a thousand years ago and more. The young girl pointed out to Richard where the main-land cliff had once projected so as to meet the rock, and showed him on the former's brow some fragments of rude masonry. ”That was the ancient barbacan,” she said, ”once joined to the castle by a draw-bridge, as was supposed, which, when drawn up, left Gethin so that neither man nor beast could approach it without permission of its defenders. Even now, with none to hinder one, it is a steep and perilous way, especially in a wind like this. Perhaps it would be better not to venture.”
”But you shall take my arm, Harry,” said Richard; ”only let me pin your shawl about your head first, lest those long locks of yours blind us both.”
”I can do that myself, Sir, thank you,” said Harry, austerely; then added, with a smile, to rea.s.sure him--for why should she be angry?--”you would only have p.r.i.c.ked your fingers, as Solomon does. No man is clever with his hands, excepting father.”
”And you say that to a painter, do you, Miss Harry--a man who lives by his handiwork?”
”I forgot that,” said Harry, penitently; ”besides, I was only saying what Solomon says.”
”That was the gentleman who took me for a peddler, eh?” said Richard.
”He is not quite so wise as his namesake--is he?”
”Oh yes, Sir; Solomon Coe has a long head: the longest, father says, of any in these parts. He has made his own way famously in the world--or, rather, under it, for he is a miner. He used to work in the coal-pits up Durham way, but--”
”Is that why he looks so black?” interposed Richard, laughing.
”Nay, Sir, I didn't notice _that_,” said Harry, simply. ”Very likely he was down Dunloppel this morning. It half belongs to him, father says; and if this lode turns out well, he will be very rich.”
”And your father would be glad of that, would he not?”
”Yes, indeed, Sir; for Solomon is the son of his old friend and preserver, as I told you.”
”But it would not please _you_ quite so much--eh, Miss Harry?”
”Not so much as father--certainly not,” answered the girl, gravely. ”It seems to me folks are rich enough when they don't spend half they get; just as other folk--like Mr. Carew, who owns all about here--are poor enough, with all their wealth, who pay out of their purse twice what comes into it.”
”Mr. Carew is known here for a spendthrift, is he, then?”
”Well, Sir, it's only gossip, for he has never set foot here in his life, I reckon; but, from what we hear, he must fling away his money finely. However, as father says, there's one excuse for him--he has neither chick nor child of his own. Eh, but you're looking white, Sir; Gethin air is apt to nip pretty sharp those who are not accustomed to it. You had best not try the castle to-day.”