Washed Ashore | Page 8

places of the same character to pass through, but by the exertions of Tom, Stephen, more frightened than hurt, was at length landed safely on the dry beach, and was able to accompany him on foot up to the tower. On their way Tom told him that he had seen him go down, and hearing from a fishwife the direction he had taken, he had come after him to bring him back. On his reaching the tower, Stephen was carried into a room which had never been used since its last occupant, poor Jack, had slept in it; and while his own clothes were drying, others were given him that he might appear at dinner. He guessed at once to whom they had belonged. Tears came into Mrs Askew's eyes when she saw him, and Margery treated him with more gentleness than she was accustomed to do, forsooth to say, she had generally very little patience with him, he was so far behind her idea of what a boy ought to be. She thanked him again for the book; she had read a few pages and found them very interesting, but would tell him more about her opinion when they next met, and she had read it through. Stephen described the appearance of the face in the cliff, and what the girl he had met had said to him. The captain seemed to think that the face might have been in his fancy, but he was puzzled to account for the girl being where he found her, and not wishing to accompany him, as it was evident that she must have known of some way up from the beach. The captain got a hint which he resolved to make use of as opportunity should occur.
Margery ran off as soon as dinner was over to read more of the book Stephen had lent her, and when she returned to the sitting-room to wish him good-bye, as he was about to leave on his return home, she told him that it was a delightful book, and that she was sure she should like it better than any she had ever read. Stephen did not appear at all the worse for his ducking and fright. Tom brought his pony round to the door, and as he helped him to mount, he advised him to hurry home.--"A storm's brewing, young gentleman, d'ye see, and a wetting with fresh water will do ye more harm than the one with salt ye got this forenoon," he remarked.
"I don't just want to be reminded of that," answered Stephen, in a tone which showed his annoyance. "But if there is rain coming, I think I had better."
"Put spurs to your pony, Master Ludlow, and get home as fast as you can," said the captain, who at that moment appeared at the door.
Stephen took the observation as a hint to him to be off, and he was too proud, fancying this, to return into the house as he was about to do.
"Ah!--he'll never be what our Jack was," sighed Tom, as Stephen rode off. Dark clouds were coming up thickly from the south-west, the advanced guard of a dense mass rising rapidly out of the horizon. Stephen, looking round occasionally to see if the clouds were likely to overtake him, galloped on down the steep path which led from the tower to the more level country over which his road lay. He had not gone far when the voice of some one from behind a hedge cried out, "Who goes there? Stop, I charge you!"
Stephen was at first not a little alarmed, but directly afterwards he saw Blind Peter, the pedlar, emerge from his concealment, led by his little dog. Stephen had known Blind Peter all his life, and as soon as he saw him he answered, "I am Stephen Ludlow. What do you want?"
"I warn you that you are in danger, young gentleman," said Blind Peter. "I have been waiting for you all the morning. I thought that I should know the tread of your pony's hoof, with your light weight on his back. Don't go back the way you came, or evil may come of it. Take the round by Fairleigh farm. Be advised, young sir, be advised."
Stephen was timid, but he was obstinate, and as the rain was likely soon to fall he was in a hurry to get home. He therefore was disinclined to believe Blind Peter. "For what can any one want to hurt me?" he asked.
"Ask your father, young sir. He may guess better than you can," replied Peter, "But, I say again, go by Fairleigh. Be advised. The round will not increase your ride by more than twenty minutes, and a wet jacket is of less consequence than a broken head."
At the