Evelyn Everett-Green - The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn - A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot

Jemima and Keziah saw the wistful glances, and longed to interpose on behalf of their favourite; but Mistress Susan was not one it was well to interfere with, and Cherry was not in favour that day. But an inspiration came over Jemima at last, and she suddenly exclaimed:

"Sure, but how badly we need some fresh rushes for the parlour floor! There be not enough to cover it, and they all brown and old. There has been scarce any frost as yet. I trow the river rushes will be yet green, and at least they will be fresh. Could not the child be spared to run out to try and get some? She is a better hand at that than at her cooking. I will finish her pastry if thou wilt spare her to get the reeds. I love not a floor like you, and methinks father will chide an he sees."

Mistress Susan cast a quick glance at the rush-strewn floor, and could not but agree with her niece. She had all the true housewife's instinct of neatness and cleanliness in every detail. The filthy habit of letting rushes rot on the floor, and only piling fresh ones on the top as occasion demanded, found no favour in this house. It was part of Cherry's work and delight to cut them fresh as often as there was need, but a spell of wet weather had hindered her from her river-side rambles of late, with the consequence that the supply was unwontedly low.

"Oh, any one can do Keren Happuch's work and feel nothing added to her toil," was the sharp response. "Small use are her hands in any kitchen. We had better make up our minds to wed her to a fine gentleman, who wants naught of his wife but to dress up in grand gowns, and smirk and simper over her fan; for no useful work will he get out of her. If rushes are wanted, she had better go quickly and cut them-

"And mind, do not stray too far along the banks, child; and watch the sky, and be in before the sun is down. The evenings draw in so quick now; and I would not have you abroad after nightfall for all the gold of Ophir."

Cherry had no desire for such a thing to happen either. London in the darkness of the night was a terrible place. Out from all the dens of Whitefriars and other like places swarmed the ruffian and criminal population that by day slunk away like evil beasts of night into hiding. The streets were made absolutely perilous by the bands of cutthroats and cutpurses who prowled about, setting upon belated pedestrians or unwary travellers, and robbing, insulting, and maltreating them-not unfrequently leaving the wretched victim dead or dying, to be found later by the cowardly watchman, who generally took good care not to be near the spot at the time of the affray. Ladies of quality never went abroad unattended even by day; but Cherry was no fine lady, and Martin Holt had no notion of encouraging the child's native vanity by making any difference betwixt her and her sisters. Jemima and Keziah had been always accustomed to go about in the neighbourhood of their home unmolested, and thought nothing of it; and though Cherry's rosy cheeks, slim, graceful figure, and bright, laughing eyes might chance to take the fancy of some bold roisterer or dandy, and lead to an address which might frighten or annoy the maid, her father considered this the less danger than bringing her up to think herself too captivating to go about unguarded; and up till now she had met with no unwelcome admiration or annoyance of any kind in her limited rovings.

So she set forth blithely this afternoon, her cloak and hood muffling well both face and figure, her clogs on her feet, since the river bank would be muddy and treacherous at this time of year, and a long, open basket on her arm, thinking of nothing but the delights of escaping from the weary monotony of pastry making and herb shredding, and from the overpowering odour of that mysterious herring pie. Cherry liked well enough to eat of it when it was placed upon the board, but she always wished she had not known anything of the process; she thought she should enjoy it so much the more.

Crossing the bridge, and exchanging many greetings as she tripped along, for every neighbour was in some sort a friend, and bright-eyed Cherry was a favourite with all-she turned to the right as she quitted the bridge, and walked in a westerly direction along the river bank, towards the great beds of reeds and rushes that stretched away in endless succession so soon as the few houses and gardens springing up on this side the river had been passed by.

Certainly there was no lack of green rushes. The autumn had been mild, and though the past few days had been chill and biting, it had not told to any great extent upon the rushes yet. Cherry plunged eagerly amongst them, selecting and cutting with a precision and rapidity that told of long practice. She was resolved to take home as many as ever she could carry, and these all of the best, since the supply would soon cease, and she knew the difference in the lasting power of the full, thick rushes and the little flimsy ones.

But it was later than she had known when she left home. The brightness of the sunshine had deceived her, and she had been detained a few minutes upon the bridge, first by one and then by another, all asking kindly questions of her. Then her fastidious selection of her rushes caused her to wander further and further along the banks in search of prizes; and when at last her big basket was quite full, and correspondingly heavy, she looked round her with a start almost of dismay; for the gray twilight was already settling down over the dark river, and she was full a mile away from home, with a heavy load to carry.

Cherry's heart fluttered a little, but it was rather in fear of her aunt's displeasure than of any mischance likely to happen to herself. She had been often to these osier beds, and had never encountered a living soul there, and she would soon reach the region of walls and gardens that adjoined the southern end of the bridge. So taking her basket on her arm, she pushed her way upwards from the river to the path along which lay her road, and turning her face homeward, made all the haste she could to get back.

But how dark it looked to the eastward! Did ever evening close in so fast? And how black and cold the river looked! She never remembered to have seen it quite so cheerless and gloomy before. A thick white fog was rising from the marshy lands, and she could not see the friendly twinkling lights upon the bridge. Despite her exertions, which were great, she felt chill and shivery; and when at last she heard the sound of a lusty shout behind her, her heart seemed to stand still with terror, and she stopped short and gazed wildly back, to see whence the noise came.

What she saw by no means reassured her. Some fifty yards behind, but mounted on fine horses, were two young gentlemen, plainly in a state of tipsy merriment, and by no means disposed to allow any prey, in the shape of a woman old or young, to escape them without some sort of pleasantry on their part. Cherry heard their laughter and their coarse words without understanding what it all meant; but a great terror took hold of her, and leaving her basket in the middle of the path, in the vain hope of tripping up the tipsy riders, she fled wildly along in the direction of home. Her hood falling back, disclosed her pretty floating curls beneath, and so gave greater zest to the pursuit. Fleet of foot she might be, but what availed that against the speed of the two fine horses? She heard their galloping hoofs closer and closer behind her. She knew that they were almost up with her now. Even the osier beds would afford her no protection from horsemen, and she feared to trust herself to the slippery ooze when the daylight had fled. With a short, sharp cry she sank upon the ground, exhausted and half dead with terror, and she heard the brutal shout of triumph with which the roisterers hailed this sight.

In another moment they would be upon her. She heard them shouting to their horses as they pulled them up. But was there not another sound, too? What was the meaning of that fierce demand in a very different voice? She lifted her head to see a third rider spurring up at a hand gallop, and before she had time to make up her mind whether or not this was a third foe, or a defender suddenly arisen as it were from the very heart of the earth, she felt herself covered as by some protecting presence, and heard a firm voice above her saying: