"Yes, October. To-day is the fifteenth of the month."
"Then I have been here three months."
He was silent.
"What is the year?" I asked, eagerly.
The little man smiled. "Oh, you need not fear. This is the year 1745. You have been here three months. I see you wish to ask more questions, but I shall not answer them."
For several days after that I asked no questions, for a great despair laid hold of me. Although I had not been told, I was sure I knew why I had been kidnapped and made a prisoner. I believed, too, that my illness was not a natural one, and I could have sworn that I was kept out of the way because Richard Tresidder feared me. This thought was not altogether unpleasant. It could not be because of the Pennington estates—there was no immediate danger concerning that—it was because of Naomi. He had discovered that she and I had met, and I believed that he had concluded what I fondly hoped, although the foundation seemed poor, that Naomi loved me. If this were so, I could understand why he should want to keep me away from Pennington, for if Naomi loved me, and was willing to wed me, even although she could not marry until she was twenty-one, the position was a constant menace to Richard Tresidder; for if, when she came of age, she became my wife, Trevose Estate would at once be wrested from his hands, while I should be able to buy back Pennington.
I considered these matters many times as I lay there. They came to me not clearly, but in a vague way; not quickly, but slowly and at rare intervals, while my strength came gradually back to me.
All this time I knew not where I was, for I was not allowed to go outside the room in which I had been imprisoned. Neither had my strength been sufficient to climb to the little window I have mentioned in order to look out. I was kindly treated, my food was good, and brought regularly; my room was kept clean, and I was carefully attended to. But not one of my attendants would tell me anything. Moreover, as I became stronger they seemed to watch me more closely.
One morning after breakfast, I judged that the sky was bright by the light which streamed into my room, and as I felt very much better, and knowing that no one would come to my prison for an hour or two, I decided to try and climb to the window, so that I might see what my surroundings were. This proved to be a harder task than I anticipated, but after many vain endeavours I at length reached the little aperture and looked out.
My head became almost dizzy as I looked. Outside a great sea was running. I saw the breakers lash themselves into foam upon the rocks, and I saw a bold, ragged cliff stretching, as I judged, southward as far as my eyes could reach. Then I looked beneath me, and I saw that my prison had been built on the edge of the cliff. So high was I above the beach beneath that at first I could not measure the distance, but presently, as my eyes became accustomed to the sight, I was able to make my calculation. As far as I could judge I was at least two hundred feet above the roaring, rushing torrent beneath—probably the distance was greater. Escape by that means, then, was an impossibility.