"If it were only really mine," I thought, "and if those faithful old servants could only have my dear Nancy as mistress. If I could but bring her here, and say, 'This is all yours, my dear maid.'"
Well, why could I not? It was still in my power. Mr. Hendy still held the papers. It was mine. But only by accepting the price of base service. No, I could not be happy if I took advantage of the bargain. The look in my dear maid's eyes forbade me. But what could I do? She was nameless, and would, I was afraid, soon be homeless and friendless. Lord Falmouth had told me to wait until I heard from him, before I went to Tregothnan, and until that time I should not be able to see her. I would have gone to London and offered my services to the King but for my promise to await Boscawen's commands.
I was sorely troubled about these things, and yet it was a joy to be at Trevanion, joy beyond words. For I was at home, and my dear Nancy loved me. Destitute we might be, but we were still rich in each other's love, and as I remembered this I laughed aloud, and sang snatches of the songs I had sung as a boy.
"Daniel," I shouted.
"Yes, sur."
"Where is Chestnut?"
"In the stable, sur."
I made my way thither, and Chestnut trembled for very joy at the sight of me. If ever a horse spoke, he spoke to me in the joyful whinny he gave. He rubbed his nose against me, and seemed to delight in my presence. After all, my homecoming was not without its joys.
"Whoever leaves me, my beauty," I cried, "you shall not leave me; and to-morrow we'll have a gallop together; you and I, Chestnut, do you hear?"
And Chestnut heard and understood, I am sure, for he whinnied again, and when I left the stable he gave a cry as if he sorrowed at seeing me go.