The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot by - (read novels website txt) 📖

the Puritan side as yet, though listening with dutiful and heedful attention whenever his uncle spoke to him on the matter of his tenets. As for Cherry, her dislike to sermons had long been openly declared, and it was scarcely expected that she would patiently endure another of the discourses that had caused her such distaste before.

And so it came about that upon a chill, frosty January night, Cuthbert and Cherry stood before a small, narrow house in Budge Row--a house that seemed to be jammed in between its two neighbours, and almost crushed by their overhanging gables and heavy beams; and Cherry, with a trembling hand, gave a peculiar knock, thrice repeated, upon the stout panels of the narrow door, that at the third summons opened slowly and noiselessly, as if without any human agency.

The dark passage thus revealed to view was black as pitch, and Cuthbert involuntarily recoiled. But Cherry had been here before, and knew the place, and laid her hand upon his arm.

"Courage!" she said, in a voice that quivered with excitement and not with fear; "it is always so here. Walk boldly in; there is naught to hurt us. When the door has closed we shall see a light."

Stepping across the threshold, and keeping fast hold of Cherry's arm, his quick glance roving from side to side in search of any possible foe lurking in the shadows, Cuthbert entered this strange abode, and felt rather than saw that the door closed noiselessly behind them, whilst he heard the shooting of a heavy bolt, and turned with a start, for it seemed impossible that this could have been done without some human hand to accomplish the deed. But his sense of touch assured him that he and Cherry were the only persons at this end of the narrow passage, and with a light shiver at the uncanny occurrence, he made up his mind to follow this adventure to the end.

"See, there is the light!" whispered Cherry, who was quivering with excitement. "That is the sign that the wise woman is ready. We have to follow it. It will lead us to her."

The light was dim enough, but it showed plainly in the pitchy darkness of the passage, and seemed to be considerably above them.

"We must mount the stairs," whispered Cherry, feeling her way cautiously to the foot of the rickety flight; and the cousins mounted carefully, the dun light, which they did not see--only the reflections it cast brightening the dimness--going on before, until they reached an upper chamber, the door of which stood wide open, a soft radiance shining out, whilst a strange monotonous chanting was heard within.

Upon the threshold of the room stood a huge black cat with bristling tail and fiery eyes. It seemed as though he would dispute the entrance of the strangers, and Cuthbert said to himself that he had never seen an uglier-looking brute of the kind since the monster wildcat he had killed in the forest about his home. He drew Cherry a pace backwards, for the creature looked crouching for a spring.

"It is the wise woman's cat, her familiar spirit!" whispered the girl, in a very low voice. "Show him a piece of money; then he will let us pass. He takes toll of those who come to the wise woman. Show him the gold, and then place it within that shell. After that he will let us go in."

Cuthbert took a small piece of gold from his purse. He held it up before the formidable-looking creature, and then let it drop into a shell fixed in the outer wall of the room. He heard it fall as if through a slot, and fancied that some person within the room had taken it out and examined it. There was a slight peculiar call, and the cat, whose tail had begun to grow less, and whose snarlings had ceased at sight of the coin, now sprang suddenly backwards and vanished within the room, whilst a cracked voice was heard bidding them enter.

"That is the voice of the wise woman," said Cherry. "Come, Cuthbert, and fear nothing."

Together the pair stepped over the threshold, and again the door closed noiselessly behind them, and the bolt flew as it seemed of itself into its socket. Cuthbert did not altogether relish this locking of doors behind them as they went; but Cherry, who had been here before, did not seem to mind, and doubtless it was but prudence that had taught the old woman to carry on her arts secretly if she wished to escape imprisonment or death.

Glancing curiously round him, Cuthbert saw himself in a long, low, narrow room that was all in deep shadow save at the upper end, where a soft bright light was burning, carefully shaded at one side, and so arranged that whilst it illuminated the features of those who stood beside the table behind which the oracle sat, it left the features of the wise woman herself in the deepest shadow, a pair of small black beady eyes being at first glance the only feature Cuthbert could distinguish.

The lamp stood upon a table, and the old woman, clad from head to foot in a long black mantle, sat on the farther side. There were a few implements of her profession about her--one or two big books, a crystal bowl containing some black fluid very clear and sparkling, an ebony wand, and a dusky mirror in a silver frame. She fixed her bright bead-like eyes upon her guests as they advanced, and asked in her cracked, harsh tones:

"Who comes here?"

"Two persons desirous of testing your skill," answered Cuthbert boldly. "It is told me that you can read the future; I would ask if you can also look back into the past?"

He felt the snake-like glance bent fixedly upon him. There was a subtle fascination in those eyes, and he looked into them fixedly whether he would or no. As his eyes became used to the dimness in which the old woman sat, he saw that her face was brown and wrinkled like a fragment of ancient parchment, that her features were very sharp and wasted, and that there was something weird and witch-like in her whole aspect. He felt as though he had seen before some face that that withered one faintly resembled, but in the confusion of the moment he could put no name to it. He wanted to keep his head, and to retain his firmness and acuteness, but he was conscious of a strange whirling in his brain as the old woman continued to gaze and gaze upon him as though she would never be satisfied with her inspection.

At last she spoke again.

"And who art thou that comest so boldly to pry into the dead secrets of the past?"

"I am one Cuthbert Trevlyn, son of a house that has suffered sore vicissitudes. I come to ask the skill of the wise woman in discovering a secret long hidden from our family."

He stopped suddenly, for the woman held up her hand as if to stop him, and her voice took a strange hissing tone.

"Silence! Enough--thou hast spoken enough. Let me now tell thee the rest. I will tell thee what thou hast come to seek for. Silence! I will consult the spirits; they will tell me all."

Drawing nearer to her the crystal bowl, the old woman bent her head over it, and whispered incantations, as it seemed, over its contents. For a while there was deep silence in the room, and Cherry felt chill with excitement and wonder. This was very different from the reception she and her cousin Rachel had met. They had but been bidden to show their hands, and had then seen some cabalistic characters formed by the wise woman, from which she had told them all they wished to know. But there had been nothing half so mysterious as this, and the girl felt certain that the wise woman regarded Cuthbert and his questions with far greater interest than any she had bestowed upon the fortunes or the ailments of Rachel.

Presently there arose, as if in the far, far distance, a sound of voices faint and confused. Cherry clung to Cuthbert's arm, and looked about her with a pale, scared face, half expecting to see the room filled with disembodied spirits; but his glance never shifted from the down-bent face of the wise woman, and he half suspected that the sounds proceeded in some way from her, albeit they seemed to float about in the air round them, and to approach and die away at will.

Suddenly the old woman raised her head and spoke.

"Thy mission to me this day is to ask news of the lost treasure of Trevlyn."

Cherry started, and so did Cuthbert. There could be no doubting the old woman's power now. If she could see so much in her bowl, could she not likewise see where that lost treasure lay buried?

"Thou speakest sooth, mother," he said boldly. "It is of the lost treasure I would speak. Canst tell me if it still remains as it was when it was lost? Canst tell me the spot where it lies hid, that I may draw it thence? If thou canst lead me to it, thou shalt not lose thy reward; thou shalt be rich for life."

The youth spoke eagerly; but a curious smile crept over the old woman's face at his words.

"Foolish boy!" she said. "Seest thou not that if gold were my desire I have but to discover the place where the treasure lies to some stalwart knave sworn to do my bidding, and all would be mine? Could I not sell this golden secret to the highest bidder, an wealth was all I craved? Foolish, foolish boy--impetuous like all thy race! What hast thou to offer me that I may not obtain by one wave of this wand?"

Cuthbert was silent, wondering alike at the old woman and her words. If she was not disposed to sell her golden secret (and what she said was but too true--that the treasure would be more to her than any reward), what hope was there of her revealing it to him? He stood silent and perplexed, waiting for the old woman to speak again.

"Cuthbert Trevlyn," she said, after a long pause, "methought that the hope of finding the treasure had long since been abandoned by thy race."

"That may well be, but it has not been so abandoned by me. Whilst I have youth and health and strength, I will not give up that hope. I, the grandson of Isabel Wyvern, will not cease to strive till I have won back the lost luck that was to return to that house through the daughters' sons."

It was almost at random that Cuthbert had spoken these words, but some recollection had come over him of the story he had heard of the devotion of certain gipsy people to the family of the Wyverns, and their prognostications concerning them. This woman, with the brown and crumpled skin and the beady black eyes, was very like some of those wild gipsy folk he had seen from time to time in the forest. Was it not just possible that she might be one of their tribe, who for some reason or some physical infirmity had abandoned the wandering life, and had set up for a wise woman in the heart of the great city? Was there not some strange community of knowledge and interest amongst all these wandering people? and might she not in any case know something about the families of foe and friend, and the loss of the vast treasure one day to be restored?

As his grandmother's name passed his lips, Cuthbert was certain that he saw a flicker pass across the wise woman's face; but she bent her head again over her bowl, and for some minutes remained in deep silence. Then she looked up and scanned his face again.

"Let me see thy hand," she said.

He held it out fearlessly, and she bent over it for some time.

"It is a good hand," she said at length, "and its owner may look for prosperity in life, But he must heed one thing, and that is his own over-bold rashness. He must beware of trusting all men. He must beware of fatal fascination. He must beware of a darkly-flowing river, and the dark cellar beyond. He must have the courage to say 'nay'--the courage to fly as well as to fight. Young man, thou hast over-much curiosity. In these times of peril men must walk warily. Choose the safe path, and keep therein. Think not to play with edge tools and yet keep thy fingers unscarred."

Cuthbert felt the colour rising in his face. He felt the home thrust embodied in these words. He knew that they were a warning addressed to that side of his character which urged him to make friends on all sides, and strive to see good in all men,