"When may I expect 'ee back then, sur, makin' so bold?" asked Daniel as I mounted.
"I don't know, Daniel; don't expect me until you see me. As you know, I have given you full particulars, and Mr. Hendy will visit you constantly."
"You be goin' into danger, Master Roger," said the serving-man tremulously. "Laive me go weth 'ee, sur."
Daniel was nearly fifty years of age, and had served our family all his life, so he had been allowed to take liberties.
"Ould Smiler es jist aitin his 'ead off, sur, and I baint no good 'ere when you be gone. Taake me weth 'ee, sur. You wa'ant be sorry."
As I said, I did not think it best to take him, so I rode away leaving him disconsolate. On my way to the home of the Killigrews I passed through Truro, Tresillian, Ladock, and Mitchell, but nothing happened worthy of note. I did not hurry, rather I rode slowly, for I wanted to enjoy the quiet of the day. Everywhere new life was appearing. Everywhere, too, the spirit of rest seemed to reign. In those days I did not think much about the beauties of early spring, but I could not help being impressed by the scene around Tresillian. The little arm of the river enclosed by wooded hills was indeed fair to look upon. I rested my horse at the gates of Tregothnan, where the Boscawens lived and looked with somewhat envious eyes on the long line of yew-trees which bordered the drive, and remembered that I had once loved the maid who was related to the people who dwelt in the great house in the distance.
I did not get beyond St. Columb that day, and, on arriving there, tried to find out something about the Killigrews. I had not gone far enough north, however. The main branch of the family, as all the country knows, had lived at St. Erme, about five miles north of Truro, also at Falmouth, but it had died out. Colman Killigrew was the descendant of one Benet Killigrew, who, although he did not, like some of his relations, become a courtier, was sufficiently fortunate to marry a Mistress Scobell Rosecarrick, of Endellion, in which Endellion Castle was situated. Through her this branch of the Killigrews became possessed of a pleasant estate, and also became allied to an ancient race. This I had learnt by reading Carew's survey of Cornwall after I had returned from Peter Trevisa. Of their present condition, however, I knew nothing, neither could I discover anything about them at St. Columb.
Arriving at Wadebridge the next day, my attention was attracted by an inn called "The Molesworth Arms." As the name of the maid I had promised to take from Endellion to Treviscoe was Molesworth, and as it was moreover the chief inn in the town, I decided to rest there and partake of some refreshment. Although it was scarcely noon, I found the common room of the inn filled with a number of people. Mostly the occupants were farmers, although I fancied one or two of them belonged to the gentlefolk of the neighbourhood. I did not pay particular attention to them, however, because my interest became centred in a hale-looking old man, who was evidently a travelling story-teller and minstrel. He had finished his singing, and was now telling a story before taking his departure. There is no need that I should repeat the tale here; at the same time I mention the incident because I was impressed by the wondrous way he had of making us all look at him. One could have heard a pin drop when he was speaking. I was fascinated by him too, partly, I expect, because I did not understand him. As all the county knows, a tale-teller, or a wandering singer, who is usually called "a droll," is no unusual thing. Many of them had visited Trevanion, and I had always given them food and a bed. Mostly they came when the house was full of visitors, and regaled the company with song and story. But they were mostly of the lower orders of life, and spoke the Cornish dialect. Indeed their stories usually had but little charm apart from the dialect, although occasionally tales were told which were interesting because of their subject-matter. These were generally of a supernatural order, and described the dead arising or spirits coming back to the world to bring some message to their friends. I had never seen this man at Trevanion, however, neither did he belong to the class who had visited the house. It is true he spoke the Cornish dialect, but at times he let words drop which showed he knew something of learning. He had an air of authority with him, too, which suggested that he lived on terms of equality with men of position. At least this was what I thought.
He paid no attention to me, save to give me one glance, and when he had finished his story said he must move on.
"Stay till even', Uncle Anthony," said the innkeeper, "do 'ee now. A passel of people will be comin'."