Indeed, within a week from the time when I took Mr. Penryn to Pennington, it was rumoured that Naomi had overcome her objection to Nick Tresidder, and that, owing to her father's wishes, she had consented to be his wife.

There seemed nothing that I could do, yet I would not go away; nay, I could not. I was chained to St. Eve; and although I knew I was in danger from Captain Jack and his gang, I heeded not. Tamsin Truscott, I discovered, was slowly recovering, and it was to her, I suspect, that I owed my safety.

I tried many times to gain an audience with Naomi's father, and in this also I was unsuccessful. He refused to hold any intercourse with me, and this embittered me all the more, because, even if he regarded me as the merest stranger, I had tried to be a friend to him and his. I tried to excuse him, and thus gain hope by saying that he was busily engaged in the affairs of his estate; but all the same my heart was very weary and sad in those days, especially as every one seemed to shun me. No one would befriend me; no one gave me a kind or helpful word.

At that time all hopes of getting back Pennington died out of my heart. Up to now I had comforted myself with the idea that I should at some time obtain the means to fulfil the conditions of my grandfather's will. Pennington was a valuable estate, and ignorant as I was, there seemed no way of getting the money; for be it known, in those days money was scarce in the country, none of the families for many miles around had more than they needed, and even had I many friends among the so-called wealthy, and had they been willing to advance the necessary money, I doubt whether they could have done so. But I had no friends. Richard Tresidder had poisoned the minds of all against me, so that the possibility of my raising many thousands of pounds was out of the question.

And what almost maddened me was the thought that John Penryn should have so willingly played into the hands of my enemies, that he should so easily have been deceived by those who were using him only as a means to their own safety and aggrandisement.

Then one day a light came into my sky in the shape of a message from Naomi's father, asking me to meet him in the copse above Granfer Fraddam's cave. At first I suspected treachery, but I determined to go. If any one had wanted to do me bodily harm plenty of chances had been offered since I returned from my perilous adventure to the Scilly Isles. Indeed, I did not much care what became of me, for when hope is gone all is gone.

So I went to the copse before the time mentioned, and this was at ten o'clock in the morning. As I have before stated, this was a lonely place, only one cottage being near, and altogether shielded from the gaze of men. As I said, I was early at the meeting-place, and I looked eagerly around for Naomi's father, but no one was there. I waited until after ten o'clock, and still no one came.

"This is but a ruse," I said bitterly; "this message came only to mock me as others have come;" but even as this thought flashed through my mind I heard the sound of footsteps on the frozen leaves, and turning I saw, not John Penryn, but my love.

At first I was almost overcome at the sight of her, for I feared lest something terrible should have happened to bring her instead of her father, so I stood looking at her like one bereft of his senses.

"Won't you speak to me, Jasper?" she said, and then my heart jumped so that I was less able to speak than before; but I opened my arms, wondering all the time if I were not dreaming a beautiful dream.

Yes, she came to me, my darling, whom I despaired of ever seeing again—she came shy and coy, I thought, but love was shining from her eyes for all that.

"My little love!" I cried; "and so you have come at last," and I took her in my great arms, my Naomi, the only maiden I ever did love, or ever can love. For love comes but once—that is, such a love as mine. And her head was nestled on my heart, just as a mother nestles the babe she loves, and a joy, such as even I had never felt before, came to me that wintry morning as the sun shone on the ice crystals.

There be men in these days who laugh at such a love as mine, but they who do this have never entered into the secret of life's joy. I do not expect to be understood by such, and my words to them will be but as a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal; but to those whose hearts have been filled with a great absorbing love, I know that my tale will have a meaning, simple as it may be, and badly, as I am afraid, it has been told.

For some seconds my heart was too full to speak. After the weary days of hopeless waiting, thus to enter into joy seemed to make words too poor to tell what was in my heart.

Presently, however, I asked her questions as to what had happened since I parted with her at the cottage by Mullion Sands, and she told me her story. There was but little to tell however—that is, from the time she had been left alone with Tamsin and Mrs. Crantock. She had been taken from the cottage to the carriage, and although to a degree forced, she had been treated kindly. Indeed, she had not been long there before I came with her father. Then I asked her concerning him, what she thought of him, and whether he had not brought her great joy.

"Everything seems so strange, Jasper," she said. "I had never dreamed of such a thing, you know; and sometimes I can hardly believe it is true."

"And is he not kind to you?"

"Oh, very kind, and he has made me love him. He has had so much sorrow, such a terrible past, you know; and he is now so gentle, so loving, that I cannot help pitying him and loving him. And yet I cannot understand him. He must know that the Tresidders are my enemies, and yet he insists on my staying at Pennington; he knows I hate Nick Tresidder, and yet he encourages him in the thought that I shall wed him."

"But you never will?" I cried.

"How can I, Jasper?" she answered.

"And if the worst comes to the worst," I said, "you will come to me, and we will fly together."

She did not speak, but she lifted her eyes to mine, and I saw them become dim with tears.

Then she told me that her father had spent days with men of business, but he had never told her one word as to what he had done. Indeed, the Tresidders had seemed to be disappointed at his having so many private interviews with lawyers, although they made much of him, especially Richard Tresidder's mother, who seemed to mould him at her will.

"If he is in her power, all hope is gone," I said sadly; and yet hope was not gone, for had she not told me that she would never go to the altar with Nick Tresidder?

Then I asked her how she had come to me that day instead of her father, for up to now my joy had been so great at being with her, that I had forgotten that it was not her that I had expected to see.

"That, too, is strange," she answered. "He gave this letter to a servant in my hearing, and bade him take it to you; so I asked the man to give it to me, and he made no objection."

I puzzled greatly at this, and I could think of no answer to the puzzle, save that Naomi must have won the servant's heart, as she won all hearts. Or, perhaps, he knew what it was to love, and had guessed her secret.

I opened the letter, and this was what I read:

"Will Jasper Pennington meet John Penryn, Lawyer Trefy, and the family of Tresidders at Pennington on Thursday at six o'clock in the evening?"

"That must mean to-day," I said. "What can they want of me at Pennington?"

But I did not trouble much about the matter then, for was not Naomi with me? Neither did she seem in a hurry to return to Pennington. Her father was in Truro, she said, and had given no orders as to her conduct. So we left the copse and wandered away into Pennington Woods, my love and I.

I shall never forget that day. How can I when I think of the days that followed? It was one of those glorious winter days, when the air was crisp and frosty, and when the blood of healthy people surges through their veins with richness and fulness of life. The merle and the mavis sung their love-songs, even although it was winter, the squirrels climbed the bare branches of the trees, while even the rabbits besported themselves gaily. And Naomi and I, because we loved each other, were as gay as any lambs that frolic on the warm days of May. Ay, we were young; and I, even although I was almost penniless, was happy in my strength and my youth. Thus is God kind to His children. As for Naomi, I, who am but poor at stringing words together, can never tell how beautiful she was. Ay, even Mr. William Shakespeare, great man as he was, could never have done justice to such beauty as that of my love.

She was proud of me, too, although I was poor and friendless. She admired my finery greatly, and told me that I looked all a man should look. "Whenever I have seen you before," she said, "you have been strangely attired; and sometimes I have been almost afraid of you, you have looked so fierce and strong."

"But you are glad I am strong, my little one?"

"Glad, ay; but I am not little," and indeed she was not little as maidens go, but she seemed little to me.

"Yes; but you are little," I said laughingly. "You are but a feather's weight."

At this she pretended to be offended, so I caught her up and held her at arm's length, just as I have seen mothers hold their children, and I laughed all the time in my joy.

Then she called me names, although I could see she rejoiced in my strength—the strength which had saved her when she was in peril.

I will write no more concerning that joyful morning, much as I love to think about it, for it was the sunshine of summer which precedes the black night of winter.

I was not late that night at Pennington, you may be sure, for if I was puzzled as to why I should be asked to be there, I was also eager to know the reason; besides, hope came into my life that day—hope of the great unknown future.

Besides, I should be near my Naomi, for such I felt she was whatever might happen.

I was admitted without a word, and ushered into the library, where a great many people were. I saw that the Tresidders were greatly puzzled, especially Richard Tresidder's mother, whose bright old eyes went searchingly from face to face. Although I had kept my time to the minute, I was the last to arrive. The Tresidders did not speak to me, and seemed to regard my presence as an unpardonable intrusion, and yet they said nothing. Lawyer Trefy nodded to me, but his face revealed no more than a sealed book. There were many strange men there, too, and among them was Jonathan Cowling, the old man who had acted as my gaoler at Trevose. Naomi stood by her father's side, and seemed to wonder much at the strange scene. John Penryn's eyes shone brightly, but he was perfectly self-possessed, and so great was the change in his appearance, that none would have thought him to have been the man who had been with me at the cave by Bedruthen Steps, unless they had looked at him closely.

There was a great silence in the room, as though every one was on the tiptoe of expectation, as, indeed, we all were; and when Naomi's father rose to speak we all held our breath. He spoke very quietly and very collectedly, yet I saw he had difficulty in restraining himself. I saw then, too, how great was his resemblance to Naomi, and carefully as he was dressed at that time, he looked the picture of what a gentleman ought to look.

"I have taken the liberty to arrange this meeting in the house of Richard Tresidder, because he has acted as my daughter's guardian," he said, "and because of certain family connections which naturally link us together, and which he hopes may link us together in the future."

At this my heart sank, for I remembered that he had spoken no word to me; nay, he had not noticed me in any way.

"If this is so," said Richard Tresidder, who looked nervously toward Naomi's father, "I should like to know why Jasper Pennington is here. It is, to say the least, strange in a family meeting like this that an outsider is admitted."

"I have arranged for Jasper Pennington to be here because he has been associated with my child under peculiar circumstances. When you consented—gladly consented, Richard Tresidder, for certain family matters to be settled to-night, you did not mention any one to whose presence you might object. Besides, you will presently see that I have not asked him to come without a purpose."

After this many things were said which confused me greatly, but which the men of law who were present seemed to understand perfectly, and so did the Tresidders, for that matter.

Then Naomi's father spoke again: "You have asked me, Richard Tresidder," he said, "that I should give your son my daughter in marriage, and have, moreover, told me that the marriage settlements can easily be arranged."

At this all the Tresidders nodded eagerly, although they seemed sadly puzzled.

"I have also told you," he went on, "that I did not believe Jasper Pennington to be so evilly disposed as you thought, and that on one or two occasions he exposed himself to danger in seeking to render service to my child."

"Naomi was never in danger," was the reply. "All that he has done has been for evil purposes."

"Be that as it may, I have come to the conclusion that he deserves some kind of recognition for his services. Besides, I was at one time acquainted with his father, and so I do not wish to forget him. Mr. Trefy, will you state what I am prepared to do?"

Then Lawyer Trefy read something which he had evidently carefully prepared, and yet which I was too excited to properly understand; yet I know it was to the effect that he had placed in his hands an order to arrange with five representatives of county families to value the Pennington estates, and to pay the said amount to Richard Tresidder, according to the conditions of the will made by Jasper Pennington in the year 17—.

"What!" cried Richard Tresidder, like one mad, while his son Nick moved the arm which I had broken, and still hung in a sling, and cried out with pain.

"I give this to Jasper Pennington," said Naomi's father, "as the dowry of my child, who will, I trust, shortly become his wife."

Now at this my heart seemed to stop, but when I saw the light shining in my love's eyes, it beat again so joyously, and swelled so with joy, that my bosom seemed too small to contain it. Then, unable to restrain myself, I rushed to her side and caught her hands.

As I did so, however, I heard a great noise of angry voices, and then my darling cried so fearfully that I turned my head, only to see Richard Tresidder leap upon me, and by the murderous gleam in his eyes I knew that he would do me harm. But I felt to laugh at this, for at that moment I seemed to have the strength of ten, and I flung him from me as I would have flung a yelping cur who sought to bite me. So quickly, indeed, did I throw him from me that no one in the room sought to interfere, and even when, with the yell of a wild beast, he came upon me again, I think no one thought it worth while to stop him; but even as he came I saw my grandfather's second wife speaking to Nick, and then I beheld, as it were, a thousand points of light flash before my eyes, and felt as though a piece of burning steel were thrust into my side. This was followed by wild cries of confusion, among which I thought I heard the voice of my love saying, "Oh, Jasper, my love, speak to me!" and then I seemed to sink away into the silence and gloom of night.

When next I opened my eyes to the light of reason and of day, I lay in a large, old-fashioned room which I had never seen before. The bed was soft and easy, and a delicious languor seemed to possess me. I felt no pain, but I was as helpless as a baby. Perfect stillness prevailed, and, like a tired child, I dropped off into a deep sleep. How long I lay thus I know not, but presently, when I woke to consciousness again, the air seemed to be soft and balmy, and much of the weariness seemed to have left me. I moved my limbs, and again looked around the room.

"Where am I, I wonder?" I said to myself.

Just then the door opened and I saw old Betsy Fraddam enter.

Without knowing why, I closed my eyes, while the old dame felt my hands and my forehead.

"He's better," she chuckled; "ould Betsy is better than the doctors. 'Ee'll git better now. Jasper Pennington ed'n a-goin' to die so aisy for oal the Tezidders."

She moved my pillow and made my bed comfortable, then she left the room again.

When she had gone I recalled the incidents which I have recorded—the meeting in the copse, the walk through the woods, then the scene in Pennington library, which ended in silence and darkness. What did it all mean? My mind was not very clear, but presently I was able to explain everything. But where was I? Why was everything so quiet? And why had Betsy Fraddam come to me?

I listened, and heard the cawing of rooks, the neighing of horses, and the lowing of cattle. If I only possessed sufficient strength I would make my way to the window, but I was not able to do this.

Then I heard a voice which set every nerve in my body a-quivering. It was the voice of my Naomi outside the door.

She entered all alone. She looked pale and thin; this I saw dimly, for my eyes were partly closed. She looked at me long and tenderly, as though she wanted, by looking, to see if I were better. Then she sat down by my bedside.

"Are you ill, my little one?" I asked.

She started up like one frightened.

"Oh, Jasper!" she cried; "do you know me? Are you so much better? Oh, my love, my love!"

Somehow, I know not how it was, but strength came back to me then, so I lifted my arms, and my little maid nestled her head on me and sobbed her joy.

"You are sure you will get better, Jasper?"

"Yes, sure."

Presently we fell to talking, for I wanted to know what had taken place, and she told me little by little, as I could take it in.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Where? why, at Pennington, your home."

"Yes; and the Tresidders?"

A cloud came over her face. "Richard Tresidder's mother is dead," she said. "That night when you were shot there was a great commotion. She had what the folks call a seizure, and she never spoke again. In her hand she held a pistol, but it is not believed that she shot you. My father thinks it was Nick, and that she pulled the pistol from him. She only lived a few hours, and was buried three days later."

I heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God I had been saved from this. All the same, I felt sad that my little maid suffered it all.

"And Nick?" I asked presently.

"He left Pennington that night. No one knows where he is now, except his father."

"And he?"

"My father knows where he is. I do not."

"And so I am at Pennington all alone?"

"My father is here. I would not leave you; I could not, you know, Jasper."

Thus while the rooks cawed in their joy and the dogs barked I lay, while my little maid sat by my side, and told me the things which my heart yearned to know.

Presently her father came, and when he knew how well I was, he said he must return to Trevose as soon as possible and take my Naomi with him.

"But what am I to do without her?" I asked woefully.

"You must get well, Jasper, and come to Trevose to see her."

After that he told me many things which I need not write here concerning the Tresidders, and of the way they had acted—told me why he had behaved so strangely to me; and how to deceive them, and thus gain his rights without difficulty, he had pretended to fall in with their wishes.

A little later he went with my Naomi to Trevose, and my love made me promise to come to her quickly. I did this, as you may be sure; nevertheless, springtime had come and the leaves were bursting forth from the trees ere I was strong enough to go to Trevose. But I did not go in vain, neither did I return to Pennington again without the sweet maid for whom I would willingly have laid down my life.

We were wedded at St. Eval by the jolly parson who had told me about Lanherne House, and that very same day we posted to Pennington, the home of the Penningtons for long generations.

And now I have told my tale, told it truly in spite of evil reports and foul lies. Let Richard Tresidder and his son Nick, who are both alive, and who, I trust, will read what I have written, point to one wrong statement. This they cannot do.

It may be that I have acted foolishly, but let God be the judge whether I have ever struck an unfair blow. I have written these things that the truth might be known, and that no shadow should rest on her who is near me even now; ay, and who is more beautiful than when I first saw her in Truro: she the pure maid with pity shining from her eyes, and I the outcast, the vagabond.

I sit in the library at Pennington as I write this, while my love is romping with the grandest lad in the world, save my eldest son Jasper, whom I hear shouting to his sister Naomi in the garden, while Eli, the dwarf, watches over them as tenderly as if they were his own.

THE END.