Then I remembered that he had spoken to Eli Fraddam when I had sent him away. I saw what he meant now, although at the time I wondered what he had to say to the dwarf.
Then Richard Tresidder's mother rose to her feet, and came up close to where we stood.
"Let me look at you, and see if you be John Penryn," she said, and he stood still while the woman gazed steadily at him, as though she would read the secrets of his heart.
Presently her eyes flashed as though she had come to a decision.
"There is no doubt, Richard," she said, "this is John Penryn. I remember his face, I can recall his voice now. You must give up your ward, my son. We have guarded her in many trying times, we have shielded her from great danger. But now it is at an end. Of course there must be many formalities to go through, but there need be no trouble, no publicity. All our actions can be explained. All we have done has been for the child's good. You are welcome, John, and Pennington must be your home until your claim to Trevose is made good, as it will be, for we shall raise no barriers."
This she said with many other things which I will not here write down. She spoke pleasantly and plausibly, too, until for a moment I forgot who she was, and thought her to be truly a lovable and motherly old lady.
But this was only for a moment, and I must confess I was not at all pleased at the turn things were taking, especially as she seemed to impress Mr. Penryn favourably.
"Where is my child now?" he asked eagerly.
"She is here, John; here in this very house. You shall see her anon. We have been obliged to be careful for her, for she has had an enemy in that man by your side. He, a penniless scoundrel, has dogged her footsteps, and sought to ruin her life, and out of love for her we have been obliged to take steps that may have seemed harsh, but which, believe me, John, were for the good of the child whom we thought an orphan, and wholly dependent on us."