Set in Silver
boy. Afterward, we went to see the village schoolmaster, whom he knew;
such a nice man, who paints pictures as well as teaches the
children--and I felt guilty at being introduced as Sir Lionel's "ward."
I think my conscience is like a bruised peach, pinched by many fingers
to see if it's ripe, I have that guilty feeling so often! When we spoke
of the schoolmaster's versatility, he laughed and said it was "nothing
to his predecessor's," who used to cut the children's hair, clip horses,
measure land, act as parish clerk as well as teacher, pull teeth, and
beat such transgressors as had to be punished in a way less serious than
prison. Doesn't that take one back to long ago? But so does everything
in Tintagel--and all over Cornwall, Sir Lionel says. They have such nice
old-fashioned words here! Isn't "jingle" good? It's some kind of a
conveyance, exactly the opposite of a motor-car, I fancy, from the
description. And I like the word "huer," too. It means a man who gives
the hue and cry when the pilchards are coming in, and all the fishermen
must run to the sea.
I should like to know everything about Cornwall, from the smugglers, and
the famous wrestlers, to the witches--the last of whom lives near
Boscastle still. But the little that travellers in motors can learn
about places steeped in history, is like trying to know all about a
beautiful great tree by one leaf of flying gold which falls into the
automobile as it sweeps by, along the road. Still, the little one does
learn is unforgettable, impressed upon the mind in a different way from
the mere _learning_. And I suppose few people know everything about
every place, even in their own countries. If they did, I'm sure they'd
be prigs, and no one would want to know _them_!
When we got back to our hotel castle on the cliff, the Tyndals' motor
was at the door, a huge, gorgeous chariot, and nothing would do but we
must "try the car." Mrs. Senter had promised to go, and was putting on
her hat.
The Tyndals are difficult people to resist, because if you try to make
excuses they pin you down in one way or another, so that you must either
do what they want or hurt their feelings; and though Sir Lionel is
supposed to have been so strict in Bengal, he is quite soft-hearted in
England. I think he hates going about in motors that aren't his, because
he enjoys being the man at the helm, which is perhaps characteristic of
him; however, the Tyndals swept all of us, except Mrs. Norton, away to
Delabole to see the slate quarries, and to have the adventure of sliding
down a fearfully steep incline in a tiny trolley-car--if that's the
right word for it. I half expected Charon to meet me with his ferry-boat
at the bottom. It wouldn't have seemed much stranger than other things
in Cornwall.
All that happened yesterday. To-day we have been to Trebarwith Strand
and Port Isaac, and have walked to the loneliest church I ever saw, with
the gravestones in the burying ground propped by buttresses, that the
wind mayn't throw them down. It is Tintagel church, though it's a good
long way from the village, and the vicarage is of the fourteenth
century.
Oh, and I heard a splendid legend about the ruined castle from the
vicar, who is its warden! It seems, when it was built by the old princes
of West Wales--very beautiful as well as strong, with walls "painted of
many colours," it was placed under a powerful spell by Merlin, that it
might become invisible twice in every year. How I should like to be at
Tintagel at the right time, and see if the ruins would disappear from
before my eyes. I believe they would; and the enchantment would take the
form of a sea mist.
To-morrow we are to leave Cornwall for Bideford.
I had got as far as that, when Mrs. Senter knocked at my door, and asked
if she might come in for a few minutes; so I had to say yes, and "smile
full well in counterfeited glee." But I hated to be interrupted, as
there was just time before dressing for dinner to finish my letter to
you. Now it is after dinner, and before I go to bed, I'll tell you what
has happened.
How conceited I was to suppose it possible that Sir Lionel thought me an
important person! I am sure the glove episode must have been a mere
accident. Serves me right!
Mrs. Senter came to tell me that they'd all been talking about the way
to Bideford, and Sir Lionel said the road was so hilly, he wished we
hadn't quite as many passengers in the car. Then the Tyndals asked if
they might take me, because they'd made up their minds to go to Bideford
too, and Sir Lionel answered that it would be a splendid way out of the
difficulty if I were willing. The only trouble was, he didn't like to
propose such a thing for fear of hurting my feelings; and the
conversation ended, according to Mrs. Senter, by the Tyndals planning to
suggest the idea to me as if it were their own, then letting the matter
rest on my decision.
Mrs. Senter went on to explain that Sir Lionel didn't know she was
repeating to me what had passed, but that she thought I would prefer to
know. "I'm sure _I_ should if I were in your place," she purred sweetly.
"When the Tyndals invite you, of course you must do exactly as you
please; but don't you think for Mrs. Norton's sake, as she's such a
coward, it would be best to keep the car as light as possible, since Sir
Lionel fears the roads are really bad?"
"Oh, certainly," said I, trying so hard not to blush that I must have
been purple. "I shall be delighted to go with Mr. and Mrs. Tyndal, in
their lovely car, and it's very nice of them to ask me."
"You _won't_ tell Sir Lionel I interfered, will you?" she begged. "I
should be quite afraid of him if he were angry."
"You needn't worry. He shan't hear anything from me," said I.
"And you do think I was right to let you know?" she implored.
"Of course," I assured her. But I was feeling hurt all the way up to my
topmost hair and down to my tipmost toe. Not that I mind going with the
Tyndals, but that Sir Lionel should pick _me_ out as the bit of
superfluous ballast to cast to the winds! That was what made me feel
cold and old, and alone in the world. I conscientiously told myself that
I was the youngest of the party, and the right one to sacrifice; but
nothing was much comfort until the thought jumped into my head that
maybe Mrs. Senter had fibbed. I went to dinner buoyed up by that hope,
but it died young; for the Tyndals _did_ invite me, in Sir Lionel's
hearing; and when I said that I should be charmed--he smiled calmly. So
far from making objections, I thought he looked quite pleased.
Poor me! I fancied in the castle ruins that he actually liked my
society. But I forgot that I'd invited him to go with me. _I shan't
forget again._ And _hang_ the glove!
Your poor, foolish, conceited, humiliated
Audrie.
XX
TELEGRAM FROM DICK BURDEN TO HIS AUNT
_Glen Lachlan, August 13th_,
_8 o'clock A.M._
Senter, King Arthur's Castle, Tintagel, Cornwall:
Returning to-day. Hope find you still at Tintagel. Try and make
Pendragon stay if he plans to leave. Find some excuse.
Dick.
XXI
TELEGRAM FROM MRS. SENTER TO HER NEPHEW
_Tintagel, August 13th_,
_9.20 A.M._
R. Burden, Glen Lachlan, N. B.
Just starting for Bideford. Can make no excuse to delay, but have done
better. If you arrive Tintagel to-night will find member of party most
important to you still there. Better hurry. Will leave letter explaining
all.
Senter.
XXII
LETTER LEFT BY MRS. SENTER AT KING ARTHUR'S CASTLE HOTEL,
FOR HER NEPHEW DICK BURDEN
_August 13th_
Dear Dick: Your wire has just come as we are starting. I've
telegraphed, and will leave a few words for you in pencil. Lucky you
have a resourceful relative, and that Mrs. Norton's washing didn't come
till late this morning! My resourcefulness enables me to change my plans
for your benefit, or rather, to make them work together for your good,
in the time most women take to change their minds; while the lateness of
Mrs. N.'s washing and her mild obstinacy in determining to wait for it,
against her brother's wishes, provide us with a few extra minutes.
Now it suddenly appears that Young Nick hasn't enough petrol to get on
as far as--anywhere. That will give us more minutes. Brown Buddha, as
your adored one calls him, has crawled humbly but swiftly off to obtain
a new supply. Sir Lionel, already in a vile temper for reasons which I
may have time to explain, is bursting with rage to which he is too proud
to give a natural outlet. He looks ready to explode, not with bombs, but
with dambs. I have never heard him say a single one, during the whole of
our acquaintance, but his eyes are sending out a fiery cataract of them
this minute. A good thing for me he doesn't know what I know, or the
fire would be turned upon me, and I should wither like "She" in her
second bath.
Quickly I'll tell you what I've done, and why Sir Lionel is wild; also
how I've rearranged everything and everybody at the last minute, in
order to satisfy you. What a precious darling aunt you have got, to be
sure, and what a lot you do owe her!
For motives of my own, I planned to transplant your sweet Ellaline from
our motor-car to the motor-car of others for the day. The "others" are
George and Sallie Tyndal, about whose sudden, apropos appearance I wrote
your mother only yesterday; but, of course, as you're leaving to-day
you'll miss the news in that letter. I thought your anxiety for your
parent's health would hardly be poignant enough to keep you in Scotland
long, but I didn't suppose you'd be able to tear yourself away _quite_
so soon.
I don't doubt you wonder how it can be possible for me to have too much
of dear E.'s society, but strange as that may seem, it can; and worse
than that, I dislike Sir Lionel getting too much of it. I don't think it
is good for him; and he's had enough of the commodity since we've been
in Tintagel to produce, according to my point of view and yours,
disastrous effects. I decided that drastic measures were necessary for
both our sakes, and with me to decide is to act--when anything really
important is at stake.
First I persuaded the Tyndals that it would be kindly to invite Miss
Lethbridge to travel in their motor to Bideford, whither they also are
bound. I said that Sir Lionel feared we would be rather a crowd for his
car, as the roads are supposed to be bad. This flattered them, for their
motor, which is somewhat more powerful than ours, is the one object for
which they live at present. Besides, they were delighted at the chance
of getting the girl to themselves, as they think they met her years ago
in Italy, where it is alleged she has never been. Some school girl
escapade, perhaps. You had better do a little catechising, later on.
Meanwhile, the Tyndals yearn for the opportunity of pumping. Sir Lionel
has quite fiercely prevented them from doing so, up to date. He looked
ready to challenge poor George to a duel the other evening for merely
suggesting that they might have met Miss Lethbridge in Venice.
To Sir L. I hinted that Ellaline was bored, now that you were gone, and
that she would enjoy the change of travelling for a day with new people;
that she had taken a fancy to the Tyndal boy; and I added that she had
asked me privately whether I thought that Sir Lionel would object to her
accepting, provided the Tyndals wanted her to go to Bideford. Naturally,
when the invitation came, he did _not_ object. You'd have laughed if you
could have seen her face when he smiled with apparent benevolent delight
upon the suggestion. The sight would have repaid you for many a snub, my
poor love-sick swain!
That was where matters stood till your telegram came, a few minutes ago.
All I hoped for was, to get rid of the dear child for one long, happy