But the difficulty as to who should see her home was solved by the appearance of old Prawle himself, approaching at a trot, armed with a short steel-armed boat-hook, which looked a formidable weapon in the hands of the fierce-looking old man, who came up half-mad with rage, a boy having carried him the news that they were “going to douse Bess Prawle for a witch.”
“What’s this? What’s all this?” he cried, savagely; and he looked from one to the other, as if in search of some one to assault.
“Take me home, father—take me home,” said Bess, faintly. “Thank you, miss,” she continued, turning to Rhoda. “Mr Trethick, sir: I shall never forget this.”
The fierce-looking old man glared at all in turn; but in spite of his savage aspect, Geoffrey noted that there was something inexpressibly tender in the way in which he drew his child’s arm through his, and directly after parsed his arm round her to give her more support, walking gently by her as the others watched them till they turned a corner of the cliff.
“Miss Penwynn,” said Geoffrey, excitedly, breaking an awkward silence, “I could not have believed that such superstition existed in these later days.”
“Superstition dies hard, Mr Trethick,” said Rhoda, rather coldly. “Shall we say good-morning here? Miss Pavey and I are going across the fields.”
Geoffrey raised his hat, and took the very plain hint that he was to go, by passing on along the cliff, while Rhoda and her companion took to the upland path, which Geoffrey had so lately left.
“Oh, my dearest child!” cried Miss Pavey, as soon as they were alone, and she could burst into a fit of ecstasies, “isn’t he noble—isn’t he grand—isn’t he heroic? Ah! Rhoda, Rhoda, if my heart were free it would fly from my bosom to such a chivalrous knight as he. It quite puts me in mind of the olden times.”
Rhoda did not reply, for the scene she had witnessed had agitated her.
“I declare I never saw any one behave so gallantly and well,” continued Miss Pavey. “He is quite a hero!”