This communication certainly looked ominous, and I felt in no very pleasant frame of mind as I entered the room beneath, where my breakfast had been placed for me.
"Where is the fellow who brought this, Daniel?" I asked of my old serving-man.
"He is standin' outside, sur. He wudden cum in. He seemed in a terble 'urry."
I went to the door and saw a horse which had evidently been hard ridden. It was covered with mud and sweat. The man who stood by the animal's side touched his hat when he saw me.
"Go into the kitchen, my man, and get something to eat and drink," I said.
"I must not, sur," was the reply. "My master told me to ride hard, and to return immediately I got your answer."
"Anything wrong at Treviscoe?"
"Not as I know ov, sur."
I had no hope of anything good from old Peter, and I felt like defying him. My two years' possession of Trevanion had brought but little joy. Every day I was pinched for money, and to have an old house to maintain without a sufficient income galled me. The man who is poor and proud is in no enviable position. Added to this, the desire to hide my poverty had made me reckless, extravagant, dissolute. Sometimes I had been driven to desperation, and, while I had never forgotten the Trevanion's code of honour, I had become feared and disliked by many people. Let me here say that the Trevanion code of honour might be summed up in the following way: "Never betray a woman. Never break a promise. Never leave an insult unavenged. Suffer any privation rather than owe money to any man. Support the church, and honour the king."