TREASURE TROVE.

A STORY IN FOUR CHAPTERS.—CHAP. IV.

Upon Jasper Rodley’s entrance into the house, Bertha had retired to her own room, pleading that she was suffering from the excitement, the fatigue, and the exposure she had undergone; but she could hear a conversation kept up in the dining-room until a late hour, and instinctively felt that Rodley had not come again without a reason. To her surprise, the next morning she found that both her father and his visitor were already downstairs, Jasper Rodley looking out of the window and whistling to himself, the captain with evident agitation marked on his movements and face.

‘Bertha,’ he said, without even giving her the usual morning greeting, ‘Mr Rodley has come here especially to say that from information he has received, it will be necessary for you at once to decide what course you intend to adopt. There is a chance, he says, that the great evil hanging over our heads may be averted, but it depends upon your answer.’

‘Mr Rodley must give me until this evening to think over the matter. I am going into Saint Quinians, if possible to see Harry—that is, Mr Symonds, for even Mr Rodley will admit that plighted troths are not to be broken in this abrupt manner. I shall be home before dark.’

‘Then I will see you on your road,’ said Rodley, ‘as I am going into the town.’

‘You need not trouble,’ said Bertha. ‘The road is quite familiar to me, and I have no fear of being molested.’ Then, without waiting to hear whether Jasper Rodley objected or not to the arrangement, she left the house.

In exactly an hour’s time, she walked into the town. At the old gate she was confronted by rather a pretty girl, who laid a hand gently on her arm, and said: ‘You are Miss West, I believe?’

Bertha replied in the affirmative.

‘You are in an unhappy and terrible position, and you have very little time to spare, I think?’ added the girl.

Bertha looked at her wonderingly, for she could not recall ever having seen her before.

‘I mean,’ explained the girl, who observed that Bertha was surprised at this acquaintance on the part of a stranger with her affairs—‘I mean with regard to that man, Jasper Rodley.—Yes, I know all about it; and I want, not only to be your friend, but to see that evil-doing meets with its just reward.’

The girl was poorly dressed; but her accent and mode of expression were those of an educated woman, and, moreover, she had such a thin, sorrow-lined face, that Bertha felt she could trust her.

‘Let me be with you to-day,’ continued the girl, ‘and you may thank me for it some day. I have long wanted to see you, and have waited here for you often. Never mind who I am—that you shall find out later.’

‘Very well,’ said Bertha, who naturally clung to the friendship of one of her own sex. ‘I am going to see Mr Symonds—my betrothed.’

‘The gentleman who was obliged to leave Faraday’s Bank, four years ago; yes, I remember,’ said the girl.

They crossed the market-place together, and were soon at Harry Symonds’ lodgings. The servant, in reply to Bertha’s inquiries, said that the young man was so far recovered as to be able to sit up, but that the doctor had ordered him to keep perfectly quiet and to be free from all excitement. So Bertha wrote him a note describing all that had taken place, and begging for an immediate answer. In the course of twenty minutes, the servant handed her a piece of paper, on which was scrawled as follows:

My dearest Love—This is written with my left hand, as my right is yet in a sling. I wish I could say all that I want to; but as every moment is of value to you, I will simply keep to business. Take a postchaise home; get the money out of the cavern, and send it here. John Sargent the fisherman is to be trusted; let him come back with it in the postchaise. I will return it to the bank, making up out of my savings whatever difference there is from the original amount stolen. Lose no time, my darling, and God bless you!—Ever your affectionate

Harry.

Bertha and the girl hurried away; and just as they entered the Dolphin Inn to order the chaise, they espied Jasper Rodley entering the town watchhouse, the local headquarters of the civil force which in those days performed, or rather was supposed to perform, the duties of our modern constabulary.

‘Miss West,’ said the girl, ‘I had better remain in the town for the present. At what hour to-day is Jasper Rodley coming to your house?’

‘I said I would be home by dark. He will be there before then, to receive my final answer.’

‘Very well, then; I will be there about that time,’ continued the girl.

‘Will you not even tell me your name?’ asked Bertha.

‘Yes. My name is Patience Crowell. Till to-night, good-bye. Keep up your spirits; all will end well.’

In a few minutes the postchaise was ready, and in order to escape the notice of Jasper Rodley, was driven round to the town gate, where Bertha jumped in. She stopped at John Sargent’s cottage, and mentioned her errand.

‘Why,’ said the old fisherman, ‘I’m too glad to do anythin’ for Master Symonds. He saved my life once at Saint Quinians’ jetty, and I’ve never had no chance of doin’ suthin’ for him in return like.—Come along, miss; if it’s to the end of the world, come along!’

As Jasper Rodley might pass by at any moment, Bertha thought it best to keep the chaise out of sight, whilst she and the fisherman, provided with a large net-basket, proceeded to the cliffs. In half an hour’s time the bags of coin were safely stowed away in the postchaise; John Sargent jumped in, the chaise rattled off; and Bertha, with a light heart and a heightened colour, returned home.

The captain was stumping up and down the little gravelled space in his garden, which from the presence there of half-a-dozen old cannon and a flagstaff, he delighted to call the Battery. When he beheld Bertha, he welcomed her with a sad smile, and putting her arm in his, said: ‘Bertha, lass, I’ve been thinking over this business ever since you went away this morning, and the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve called myself a mean, cowardly, selfish old fool.’

‘Why, father?’

‘Because, look here. I’ve been telling you to make yourself miserable for life by marrying a man you despise and dislike, just so that I may get off the punishment that’s due to me. I’m an old man, and in the ordinary course of things, I can’t have many years before me. You’re a girl with all your life before you, and yet I’m wicked enough to tell you to give up all your long life so that my few years shouldn’t be disturbed.’

‘But father’—— began Bertha.

‘Let me speak!’ interposed the old man. ‘I’ve been doing a wicked thing all these four years; but I know what’s right. When this man asks you to be his wife to-night, you say “No;” mind, you say “No.” If you don’t, I will; and you won’t marry without my permission.’

‘Dear father, you leave it to me. I do not promise anything except that by no act of mine shall one hair of your head be touched.—Let us talk of other things, for Jasper Rodley will be here soon.’

So they walked up and down until the sun began to sink behind the hills inland and the air grew chilly. They had scarcely got into the house, when Jasper Rodley appeared. He bowed formally to Bertha, and offered his hand to the captain, which was declined. ‘Miss West,’ he said, ‘I think I have given you fair time for decision. I have not been so exacting as circumstances justified.’

Bertha said nothing in reply, but sat in a chair by the window, and looked out on the sea as if nothing unusual was taking place.

So Jasper Rodley continued: ‘I will speak then at once, and to the point. Miss West, will you accept me for your husband?’

‘No, I will not,’ replied Bertha, in a low, firm voice.

Mr Rodley was evidently unprepared for this, and looked at her with open mouth. ‘That is your final answer?’ he asked, after a pause. ‘You are prepared to see your father, whom you love so dearly, taken from here in custody to be brought up as a common felon?’

‘Yes. That is, Mr Rodley, if you can prove anything against him. Of what do you accuse him?’

‘I accuse him of having lived during the past four years upon money which was not his, but which was stolen from Faraday’s Bank in Saint Quinians, which was taken off in a vessel called the Fancy Lass, the said vessel being wrecked off this coast.’

‘Very well,’ continued Bertha. ‘What is your proof that he knows anything about this money?’

‘One moment before I answer that. You refuse to marry me if I can bring no proof. You will marry me if I do?’

‘Show me the proof first,’ answered Bertha.

‘You must follow me, then.’

‘Not alone.—Father, you must come with me.’

So the trio proceeded out into the dusk, and, conducted by Jasper Rodley, followed the path leading to the cliffs. Bertha observed that they were followed at a little distance by a man closely enveloped in a long coat, and as they ascended the ledge of rock communicating with the shore, noticed two other figures—those of a man and a woman—watching them.

‘It’s a very nice little hiding-place,’ remarked Rodley, when they arrived at the bushes—‘a very nice little hiding-place, and it seems almost a pity to make it public property; but a proof is demanded, and sentimental feelings must give way.’ He smiled as he said this, and kicked the bush aside with his feet, thus uncovering the cavern entrance. They entered the hole, which was now quite dark; but Rodley had come prepared, and struck a light. He then rolled away the stone, and without looking himself, gave Bertha the light and bade her satisfy her doubts.

‘There is nothing here,’ she said.

‘Nothing!’ exclaimed Rodley, taking the light from her hand and examining the cavity. ‘Why!—Gracious powers! no more there is! There has been robbery! Some one has been here and has sacked the bank!’ His face was positively ghastly in the weird light as he said this, and under his breath he continued a fire of horrible execrations.

‘Well, Mr Rodley,’ said Bertha, smiling, ‘and the proof?’

Rodley did not answer, but moved as if to leave the cavern, when a woman’s figure confronted him at the entrance, and a ringing voice said: ‘Proof! No! He has no proof!’

Rodley staggered back with a cry of rage and surprise. ‘Patience! Why—how have you got here? I left you at Yarmouth!—Ha! I see it all now!’

‘Yes,’ cried the girl, ‘of course you do. I gave you fair warning, when I found out that you were beginning to forsake me for another; but not until after I had begged and entreated you, with tears in my eyes, to remember the solemn protestations of love you had made me, and the solemn troth which we had plighted together.’

‘Let me go!’ roared Rodley; ‘you’re mad!’

‘No, no—not so fast!’ cried the girl. She made a signal to some one without, and a man entered.

‘Jasper Rodley,’ continued Patience, ‘this constable has a warrant for your apprehension on the charge of having been concerned in the bank robbery four years ago.—Yes, you may look fiercely at me. I swore that the secret in my keeping should never be divulged. I loved you so much, that I was ready even to marry a thief. But as you have broken your faith with me, I consider myself free of all obligations.—Captain West, it was this man who planned the robbery, who had the coin conveyed to his boat, the Fancy Lass, and who alone was saved from the wreck.’

Rodley made a desperate rush for the cave entrance; but the constable held him fast, and took him off.

‘There, Miss West!’ cried the girl; ‘I have done my duty, and I have satisfied my revenge. My mission is accomplished. Good-bye, and all happiness be with you.’ And before Bertha could stop her, she had disappeared.

Jasper Rodley was convicted on the charge of robbery, and received a heavy sentence, which he did not live to fulfil. Harry Symonds paid in to the bank the entire sum stolen, the authorities of which offered him immediately the position of manager, which he declined. He and Bertha were married shortly afterwards; but they could not induce the old captain to move to the house they had taken, for he could not get over the shame of the exposure, and declared that he was only fit for the hermit life he had chosen; but no one outside the little circle ever knew that he had been indirectly concerned in the robbery; and neither Harry nor Bertha alluded to it after.

Of Patience Crowell, who had so opportunely appeared on the scene, nothing was ever known.