CHAPTER XIII
Blackthorn Bower
As a direct consequence of sitting on the damp moor in the mist Maviscaught one of her bad bronchial colds and was put to bed and cosseted byAunt Nellie, and was fussed over by Jessop, and was visited by UncleDavid, and had flowers sent her by Tom, and for a few days was thecentre of the entire household. She was such a dear gentle littlepatient, and her blue eyes and dull-gold hair always looked so effectiveagainst the background of a pillow, that she invariably received muchpetting and spoiling when she was ill. Merle, who went through somestormy scenes when left to her own devices at school, declared thatMavis was "a lucker", and that it paid to be an invalid. She did hershare of the spoiling, however; for though she might sometimes affect tobe jealous, no one was more thoroughly devoted to her sister thanherself. It was characteristic of Merle that she would not go toChagmouth alone.
"I'll wait till Mavis is better and then we'll go together, thanks,Uncle David," she said decidedly, in response to all tempting offers ofa run in the car.
Mavis pulled round much faster at Durracombe than she would have done atWhinburn, and, though several weeks saw the doctor set off alone forChagmouth, one Saturday arrived when he started with a pale and a rosyface beside him, and two wagging tongues keeping up an excitedchatteration. The girls felt as if they had been away from the villagefor years. The short time of their absence had made changes, for the redpyrus japonica was in blossom on some of the houses, and daffodils andwallflowers were blooming instead of snowdrops and crocuses in thecottage gardens. It was a glorious heavenly day, one of those blue Marchdays that are linked in our memories with young lambs and violets. Theyhad caught the wind coming across the moor, but the Cove of Chagmouthwas sheltered from it, and was calm and warm as summer.
"Just the very weather for Mavis to be out-of-doors," said Dr. Tremayne."If Bevis can spare the time we'll ask him to take you a walk. You oughtto go and see Pixies' Cave--that's the place I was telling you about theother day, where the Antiquarian Society excavated and found so manyprehistoric weapons. Bevis was there helping them. He's got one or twoof the things, I believe. He must show them to you. It's only about amile and a half to the cave if you go along the cliffs. You can managethat, Mavis?"
"Rather. I'm not a scrap ill now, and ready for anything."
Bevis had completely forgiven the girls for deserting him on the formeroccasion. Moreover, he had kept his promise, and had made them aminiature grindstone upon which to sharpen their penknives. It turnedwith a handle, and was quite a neat little piece of workmanship. Theywelcomed it with much admiration.
"It's absolutely dinky! How could you ever manage to do it?" they asked.
"Oh, it was quite easy!" replied Bevis airily, looking gratified all thesame.
He agreed at once to escort them to the cave, and directly lunch wasover they started forth. This time they went in the opposite directionto the sanatorium. They climbed above the village, and struck a footpathamong woods that overhung the cliffs. On this sunny March day it waslike a peep of fairyland. The trees were still bare, but between thenetwork of branches showed the brilliant blue-green of the sea below; anaspect of the scene not possible in leafy summer. The ground wasspangled with little tufts of primroses, peeping from among the grassand dead leaves, as the pre-Raphaelite artists so loved to paint them intheir masterpieces. Mosses, lichens, and hardy Polypody ferns grewthickly on the trees, so that grey and green were mingled with the tonesof brown and gold into one soft harmony of rich colour. The air wassoft, and yet had an invigorating sparkle of spring in it. Everythingseemed to hold the thrill of awakening life, and the magnetic atmospherewas that of an old-time folk-tale when the world was young and all itsobjects were sources of wonder and worship.
The girls caught the spirit of the place and ran about like dryads in arapture of delight, picking flowers, gazing up into the tracery of thebare branches, or peeping over edges of cliff at the waves dashingbelow. They were so enthralled with the wood that it was difficult todrag them any farther. Yet it was finer still when they had left thetrees and walked out to the open headland. This was the grandest side ofChagmouth, and the view of steep jagged rocks and wide waters wassublime. There is a spiritual exaltation in being on the heights, elsewhy have the greatest souls ever born ascended into mountains for theirperiods of meditation and transfiguration?
Bevis was a most satisfactory person to act guide, for he appreciatedeverything so much himself. He invariably stopped at exactly the rightplaces and said, "There!" The boy was a keen naturalist, and was alwayswatching the birds, poking about for nests, picking up snail shells, ormaking a dash after some insect specimen that he wanted. His pocketswere generally full of miscellaneous objects, and he had a growingcollection put by in boxes inside the tool-shed. He had been much withMr. Barnes, the local antiquary, and had acquired a smattering ofarchaeological lore, enough to make him take a wild interest in theexcavations which were carried on by a learned society from Port Sennen.He had himself helped to dig and to sift the gravel, and had been luckyenough to light upon quite a good find. The best of his discoveries hadbeen sent to the County Institute, but a few objects had been privatetreasure trove, and lived in the museum of his pockets.
The point to which he was taking the girls was a little grassy plateauthat jutted out from the sloping cliff. Nature must have designed itspecially for her early children, as it was sheltered from theprevailing winds and faced the sun. Moreover, it was the outer courtyardof a large cave which shelved into the hill-side. Many thousands ofyears ago successive generations of the old prehistoric race, who onceinhabited these islands, had lived there, and had hunted the mammoth andelk. No one would have known anything about them had they not leftbehind them their rude weapons and the bones that remained over fromtheir feasts.
It was from these relics, buried under yards of gravel, thatantiquarians had pieced together some idea of the life in those ancienttimes.
The cave was dark, and, so the girls declared, decidedly "spooky", butBevis had brought a piece of candle and a box of matches; so they wereable to explore its recesses. There was really not much to see exceptrugged bits of rock, and heaps of gravel, over which they stumbled inthe dim flicker of their solitary candle. They were both extremelyrelieved when they stepped outside again into the sunshine.
"Ugh! Shouldn't have liked that for a home, thank you!" declared Merle."I'd have lived outside if I'd been a prehistoric woman."
"How about wild beasts catching you?" asked Bevis. "You'd have been gladto fence yourself safely into the cave at night."
He was turning out the miscellaneous collection in his pockets, and nowproudly produced the specimens he had found in the cave--some flintarrow-heads, a skin-scraper, and two bone needles.
"I often wish they could talk," he said, "and tell me who owned them,and what animals they killed, and what hides they scraped and sewedtogether into clothes. They must have seemed such treasures to thepeople who first made them. Mr. Barnes is going to dig again here thissummer. Perhaps we shall find something more. Last June I helped him toopen a mound in the field over there."
"Did you find arrow-heads and bone needles?"
"No, it belonged to the Bronze Age, and a chief was buried there. Hiswife was lying by his side. The skeletons were quite perfect, and theirhands were clasped together. She had a little baby in her other arm.There was a necklace round her throat, and a torque on his head. Theymust have been grand people when they were alive. I'll show you themound if you like to come."
Of course the girls wanted to come, and they scrambled up a steep placeon to a yet more beautiful part of the headland. The tumulus stood inthe midst of a rough field, like the green grassy hillock of a fairylegend. Below, with a hedge between, lay a tiny quarry, where blackthornwas breaking into blossom, and ivy trailed over the remains of an oldwall. This seemed a suitable spot to sit down and eat the slices ofhome-baked cake that Mrs. Penruddock had sent with them. They settledthemselves happily for their picni
c. From the vantage-point of the wallthey could see spread out before them the whole grand panorama of theBay of Chagmouth. Away on the farther side of the harbour lay TheWarren, half-hidden in woods, and higher up gleamed the slated roof andmany windows of the Sanatorium.
"We're monarchs of all we survey here," laughed Merle.
"I should think this is No Man's Land on the top of the cliffs," saidMavis.
"As a matter of fact it's part of the estate that goes with The Warren,"said Bevis. "Mr. Barnes had to get permission before he might excavatein the mound. And an absurd fuss they made about it, too, between Mr.Glyn Williams and the agent. They said at first he would have to writeto General Talland in the West Indies."
"It seems funny to live in the West Indies when you've got all thisbeautiful place belonging to you here."
"Ah, I only wish it were mine! You bet I wouldn't be an absenteelandlord," broke out Bevis bitterly. "It seems to me the limit thatpeople should own things and care nothing about them. The old Generalhasn't been at Chagmouth for fifteen years. I don't suppose he remembersthere's such a beauty spot as this where we're sitting now, even if heever saw it. He's turned the property over to the Glyn Williams, and allthe value _they'd_ put on this scrap of hill-side would be its worth forthe shooting. It's hard that things should go so unequally. There's alot of injustice in this world. The people who care for the things oughtto own them."
"Don't you think in a sense they do?" Mavis spoke slowly andhesitatingly. "What I mean is that all beautiful things belong in a wayto the people who love them: old castles, and pictures, and landscapes,and everything of that sort. If you appreciate them they're yours, andnothing can ever take them away from you. This little quarry, and thesloe blossom, and the primroses, and the view over the water, are ours.They can't belong to people who've never seen them. I'm going to call it'Blackthorn Bower', and take possession. I feel as if we'd a right toit."
"Cheerio! Here are your title deeds, 'Lady of the Bower'!" laughedBevis, peeling a piece of bark off a tree and handing it to her as if ithad been a manuscript, "if there's any dispute with the old Generalwe'll go to law about it, and prove that we're the lineal descendants ofthe mound dwellers or the cave folk, and have a prior claim on theproperty."
"The land for the people," quoted Merle. "This patch of land certainly.The Lady of the Bower has proved it's ours. She's a regular Portia atarguing, and there isn't a Shylock who could stand against her."
"It's our joint estate then, and belongs to us three. We'll callourselves The Triumvirate!" proclaimed Mavis. "Have you a penny in yourpocket, Bevis? Merle, give me one too! Now, we'll bury these threepennies in the ground, like the Romans used to do before they began abuilding, and that'll mark the spot ours for ever more."
"I wish we _had_ a building here," said Merle, producing her penny.
"Oh, so do I! A sort of ancient British hut, made of boughs and turf.Wouldn't it be priceless? We could almost imagine ourselves mounddwellers, and feel as if we were living in the Bronze Age."
"Would you really like it?" asked Bevis quickly.
"Rather!"
"Well, we'll see what can be done. No, I can't exactly promise anything;but look here! if you care to come here again next Saturday afternoonperhaps I might have a surprise ready for you. No, I shan't tell youanything about it, or it wouldn't be a surprise. You must wait and see!"
"Do whisper just a teeny-weeny hint," begged Mavis coaxingly, but Beviswas adamant.
"I don't know myself yet! Wait till next Saturday. Give me your pennies,and I'll dig a hole. Here's a foundation at any rate. Good luck toBlackthorn Bower."
Having solemnly interred the three coins, the young people regretfullyremembered the time, and turned away from the lovely spot to go back toChagmouth. For the sake of variety they went by another path, which ledover the top of the headland and down on to an inland road. In the deepsheltered green lane early violets were blooming, and presently, on thebanks of a little pond, they spied the first kingcups of the year. Theywere growing in a rather swampy place, and it would have been prudent ofthe girls to have let Bevis gather them for them; instead of which theyboth insisted upon venturing on to some very spongy ground, with theresult that Mavis made a false step and plunged suddenly, well over herknees, into water. She splashed out again immediately, but the damagewas done. Here was a pretty business--Mavis, newly recovered from a badattack of bronchitis, was wet through and shivering already.
"Oh, she'll get cold!" cried Merle. "What _are_ we to do?"
"I feel like a dr-r-r-owned r-r-r-at!" said Mavis through her chatteringteeth.
"Mrs. Jarvis lives close by. She'd dry her things," suggested Bevis.
"Oh, do let us go there at once then!"
Where Mavis's health was concerned, Merle, through sad experience, wasan anxious little mother. The Triumvirate hurried off post-haste in thedirection of a white-washed cottage whose chimney peeped above the hedgeon the opposite side of the road.
Mrs. Jarvis was a short, wizened, elderly widow woman, who hadsuffered badly in the battle of life and had come off with many scars.Fourteen years ago she had been the village nurse, and had been sent foron that tragic evening when poor Mrs. Hunter, helpless and speechless,lay gasping with fluttering breath on the sofa in the parlour of theKing's Arms. It was Mrs. Jarvis who had performed the last offices, whohad supplied what information she could to the doctor and the coroner,and had indeed been one of the principal witnesses at the inquest. It issaid that misfortunes never come singly, and on the day when allChagmouth had flocked to the churchyard to watch the stranger's funeral,Mrs. Jarvis had been overwhelmed with a trouble of her own. Her onechild, a wilful headstrong lad of thirteen, had run away, and had takenwith him the few savings that she had kept stored inside an old tea-potin the cupboard. All search for him had been in vain, and it wasgenerally supposed in the neighbourhood that he had walked to PortSennen and gone to sea as a cabin boy in one of the many vessels thatlay in the busy harbour. Certainly from that day to this his mother hadhad no further news of him. This grief had been the bitter culminationof many black years, and it had preyed on the poor woman's mind to suchan extent that she was often strange in her manner, and indeed for atime had been an inmate of the County Asylum. She was perfectlyharmless, and though she could no longer be trusted as a nurse, shefulfilled the duties of an extra postwoman and delivered letters atoutlying farms. She had one unreasoning obsession. She was certain thatJerry, her boy, might come back at any moment. A little table in herkitchen was always set out ready for him, with clean cloth, tea-pot, andknife and fork. Every evening at dusk she lighted a candle, and placedit in a window to guide him home by the short cut he had been wont totake over the cliffs from the village. She was brisk and cheerful, andwould talk eagerly of the lad whom she daily expected, oblivious of thefact that nearly fifteen years must have changed him almost out ofrecognition. People humoured her on this point, and treated her withthat kindly consideration which is often meted out in country places tothose who are labelled "daft".
Amongst her other work Mrs. Jarvis went weekly to scrub floors atGrimbal's Farm, so Bevis knew her well, and had no hesitation in takingMavis to be dried at her fire. The door of the small fuchsia-coveredcottage was open, and the postwoman, still in her uniform, was newlyreturned from her upland tramp, and was blowing sticks into a blazeunder her kettle. She took the advent of a drenched visitor with theutmost calm.
"Well, Bevis! Who'd have thought of seeing you. The young lady wet!Yes, yes! Nasty thing to be wet! Very nice fire! The kettle's just onthe boil! Take her things off? Yes, missy. Come with me and I'll takewet clothes off. Very dangerous to sit in wet clothes."
Poor Mrs. Jarvis might be half-crazy, but she collected her scatteredwits sufficiently to usher Mavis into her tiny bedroom, to lend her somedry garments, and to make her a steaming cup of hot tea.
"I can't give her _his_ place," she murmured, glancing in doubt at thetable set ready for Jerry, and beginning to twist her hands in thenervou
s fashion that accompanied any distress in her mind.
"No, no! She's better here by the fire," said Bevis soothingly. "I'll goout and find you some fresh wood, and then you can make a regularblazer. Don't you begin to worry! I know you're glad to do anything forDr. Tremayne's niece, aren't you?"
"Yes, indeed! A nice gentleman--Dr. Tremayne. Very kind always when myhead's bad. A very nice gentleman and all!"
By the aid of a perfect bonfire of sticks and brushwood, which Bevisforaged out of the fields, Mavis's clothes were dried at last, and thelittle party were able to start off on their way back to Chagmouth. Theyhurried along, being afraid lest Uncle David should have returned fromthe Sanatorium and be waiting to set off in the car for Durracombe. Asthey clattered down the steep steps that led from the footpath into thevillage, they almost ran into Gwen and Babbie Williams, who, lookingcharming in white serge coats and little ermine caps, were going to postletters in the pillar-box. Gwen stood still and stared in utteramazement, first at Mavis's mud-stained garments and then at Bevis. Thelatter raised his cap, but Gwen did not acknowledge the courtesy, andremained gazing as if absolutely petrified, while the Triumvirate,conscious of intense disapproval, scurried past in the direction of thefarm.
"Why do we _always_ happen to meet the Glyn Williams just when we're nottidy. It really _is_ too bad," groaned Mavis.
"There's fate about it I think. I've only to lose my hair ribbon, orforget my gloves, or dirty my boots, and Gwen turns up round the corneras neat as if she'd stepped out of a bandbox. It's most fearfullyaggravating. I wish to goodness they'd stay at The Warren instead ofacting fashion plates in the village. I'm thoroughly cross," gruntedMerle.
Bevis said nothing, though he might have added that it was not pleasantto have your civility acknowledged only with a stare. There was acurious stubborn look on the lad's dark face, such as the girls hadnoticed there on that first afternoon when they had been obliged to putoff their appointment with him in the tool-shed. He turned abruptly intothe stackyard when they reached the farm, and though, afterwards, theyhunted about for him to say good-bye, they could not find him anywhere.