Ande Trembath: A Tale of Old Cornwall England

"Never before in the history of the Manor have deeds like these been perpetrated," said the squire, his genial, rubicund countenance turning pale with anger.

"Prithee, prithee, cool thyself; look at the affair calmly and you will speedily discover the rogue," replied the parson.

"Cool myself!" replied the squire, in some heat; "it is easy enough to talk, but this is the third offence in a week. Last Monday the tulip beds and shrubbery were trampled and ruined; Wednesday, the fish-pond drained and the best fish secured; and last night, the unknown miscreant killed poor, faithful Borlase. It is becoming unbearable,"--and the squire, with angry features and the semblance of a tear in his eye, knelt down by the body of the English mastiff to convince himself again that the life of his canine friend was extinct.

The scene was in a remote corner of the gardens of an old Cornish manor estate. Some distance away, looming up above the nodding heads of trees, were the gables and chimney pots of the squire's residence. Near a clump of shrubbery was the kneeling form of the squire, with flushed face and unsteady hand, for his soul was trembling with indignation, examining the head of his slain, four-footed friend. The parson, with dignified step, was closely scrutinising the ground between the squire and the road-side hedge.

"Ah! Here, do you see? Here is where the missile struck him." It was the squire who spoke, for he had found a long deep gash near the right ear.

"From what I can see," said the parson, who was a keen observer, "the rogue was making for the hedge, the most natural deduction, the hedge being the nighest escape from the dog. Then," he continued, with homiletical precision as if outlining a pulpit theme, "since the dog followed him, he must have hurled some missile at him. What more natural missile than a stone, and what more natural place to secure it than from the hedge? Now the missile must be around here somewhere. Ah! Here it is," and Parson Trant picked up a good sized stone from amidst the shrubbery. "There is blood upon it; proof, number one; now let us discover its place in the hedge."

The squire arose and accompanied the parson to the hedge and, after a minute examination, the stone's former location was discovered.

"So far, good," ejaculated the parson. "Now what servants would be most likely around the gardens last evening?"

"Tut, tut, you would never make a barrister, parson. To suspect any of my servants! You are well versed in theology, and no one knows better how to preach a sermon, but in matters of law and trespass we, magistrates, must take the precedence."

Now at times Squire Vivian could be as genial and pleasant as the sun on a June-tide morning. Kind-hearted, generous, frank, bluff, with a rough veneer of the old-time courtesy was the old squire, and yet with a choleric spirit underneath all, that would sometimes burst forth into passionate invective, to the scandal of his friends and to his own aftertime regret. Add to this a dignified opinion of his position as a landed magistrate and the squire of Trembath Manor is evident. He had a goodly amount of hard English sense and in managing his estates and finances had been tolerably successful, but in sharp penetration of character and shrewd judgment in other affairs, he was lamentably deficient. His frank and open nature had not given him much chance to develop these talents, even had he ever possessed them, and, like many persons whose positions require talents in which they are lacking, or at best but meagrely gifted, the squire felt vexed when his little magisterial keenness was surpassed.

"Tut, tut, parson, you are losing your judgment if you suspect the servants. There's old George Sloan, the hostler, and Ned Pengilly, the gardener, the only two persons likely to be on the grounds at that time, and they loved old Borlase,--ay,--even better than they love his master. No, no, parson, you are at fault there."

Parson Trant smiled, for he knew one of the chief failings in the squire's character.

"No, I did not suspect them, but they, being on the grounds, can no doubt enlighten us and bring to view more evidence. The most learned and keen-sighted judge, at times, profits by the evidence of common labourers and country parsons, who are far beneath him in the knowledge of law and criminal investigation."

"To be sure, to be sure," said the squire, somewhat mollified, "but here comes Sloan."

An old man, whose erect form and sturdy step belied his grey hair and wrinkled brows, was seen approaching from the direction of the stables.

"Canst tell us anything more about this outrage, Sloan?"

The hostler was now close at hand and had removed his cap in deference to the gentlemen near him.

"A bad job, beant it, squire, as I was a-telling nephe Bob this marning. No, sir, I can't say as Hi knaws much. I 'eard Borlase barking savage-like last night, and I ups and slips quiet-like down from my room o'er the stables, and run through the paddock just in time to see the rogue on the other side of the 'edge. It was dark, squire, and I 'aven't the heye-sight I used to 'ave, and so I couldn't make un out who 'e was. This marning I looked around and found poor Borlase a-lying there and brought you word. That's all I knaws, only I 'opes the villain will be caught and 'anged."

"And did you see no person around the grounds late in the afternoon, George?" asked the parson.

"None, sir, except my nephe Bob, who comes hover to the stables to 'elp me in my work, now and then, but 'e always leaves afore evening. Now--as I think of it, Bob was a-telling me 'e 'ad seen Ande Trembath nigh the Prospidnic road gate, as 'e was going 'ome last night; 'e may 'ave seen the rogue and could tell you summat."

Blackness as of a thunder-cloud rolled across the old squire's features, and a purple stream of blood mounted and flushed his temples.

"Spawn of the traitor! He shall smart for it!"

"What a horrible oath! Squire, you are beside yourself," said the parson, with gentle, chiding reproof.

"Well, damme, parson, what's a man to do? Here's all these outrages, and it's perfectly clear to my mind, now, that that traitorous son of----"

"Tut, tut, fie, squire!"

"That that traitorous son of a traitor, knowing that I have the possession of the manor of his ancestors, which the King--God bless him--took from their family on account of their treason, that boy--don't interrupt me, Parson Trant--that boy is the culprit, and damme--I'll have him arrested for malicious mischief and trespass."

"Not so fast, squire. What evidence do you have except your own suspicions and the fact that the lad was seen nigh the Prospidnic road gate? If I know aught of law there's not sufficient evidence."

"There, there, you talk of law--as if a magistrate didn't know the law."

"Well, the evidence is lacking," said the parson, gently, though firmly, for he would not allow the squire to shake his confidence in his best pupil. "The lad has a good reputation, is a bright scholar in my parish school, and----"

"Well, well, we'll get more evidence," interrupted the squire, a little testily. "George, see that the dog is buried, and--here, hitch up the black mare for Mistress Alice; she's going out this morning."

The hostler paused, fingering his cap.

"I'm feared, squire, Queeny is a little huntrusty; she's been standing in the stall some time."

"What!----"

The presence of the parson restrained the squire from saying more, but his flushed countenance spoke volumes. George saw it and, touching his cap, hastened off to obey.

"Here's a pretty pass things are coming to! Outrages committed daily, and my own servants in open rebellion, disputing my word."

"Come now," said the parson, gently, "he meant no harm and no disrespect, I'm sure. Suppose we go down to the lodge and see Pengilly."

Squire and parson wended their way across the gardens to the broad carriage-way and thence down to the main entrance of the manor estate, the latter talking and the former keeping down his temper as best he could in silence, until he became of a more quiescent frame of mind. In truth, the squire was inwardly regretting his outburst of temper, and the violent language he had used in the presence of his friend, the parson.

"Such a thing is possible but not probable. Ande has been the best scholar in the parish school and a model boy, so the master assures me. We must not condemn him too hastily and without being heard. His mother is a noble woman and has inculcated high principles in her training of the lad."

There was silence for a moment unbroken save by the crunch, crunch of the gravel underfoot and the twitter of bird overhead. Then the squire, sufficiently calmed, spoke.

"All very true, but envy and malice crop out even in the very best of characters; especially is it true in those who, having been deprived of high position, see others occupying that which was formerly theirs. They are apt to allow their feelings to bias their judgment."