The Pagan's Cup

"Indeed? Well, this queen was on foot, and in her arms she carried a child. Stopping before Nigel, she placed the child on his saddle-bow, and told him to take it home for a year and a day. 'If it returns to us safe and sound,' she continued, 'great good fortune will befall the Grants. But if anything wrong is done to it, then will sorrow come.' So speaking she vanished, and the horse, suddenly regaining motion, galloped home to the castle, bearing the amazed chief with his child in his arms."

"His child, my lord?" asked the vicar, smiling.

"It had to be his child for a year and a day. He found that during his absence his wife had given birth to a fine boy, but that a day or so after it was born the cradle was found empty. Lady Grant was in a great state of terror, as you may imagine. When the chief told his story she declared that her child had been carried off by the Good Neighbours. It was her wish to kill the changeling. But this the chief, mindful of the prophecy, would not permit. It was supposed that the fairy child required to be nursed by a mortal woman, and this was why the chief's boy had been carried away."

"I never heard that version of the old story before," said Tempest.

"No? It is usually said that the fairies want the child for themselves. But in this story what I have told you was believed. Lady Grant, hoping to get back her own child in a year and a day, nursed the changeling. It was a peevish, cross, whimpering creature, and marvellously ugly. But when she fed it with her milk it grew fat and strong, and became good-tempered.

"On the night when the year and a day were up, there was heard the sound of galloping horses round the castle. A wind swept into the rooms and down the corridors. Everyone in the castle fell into a magic sleep. But in the morning the true child was found smiling in his cradle and the fairy changeling was gone. In the cradle also was the cup I am seeking, and a scroll saying that while it was kept in the family no ill would befall, but that if lost the line would be in danger of extinction."

"And did the prophecy ever come true?" asked Sybil.

"Twice," replied Kilspindie, with the most profound conviction. "In the reign of the first James of Scotland the cup was stolen, and three brothers of the chief were slain in battle. Only the child of one of them lived, for the chief had no family. Then the cup was brought back – I could tell you how, but the story is too long – and the child was spared to become the father of a large family."

"And the second time?" asked Tempest, wondering how much of this wild tale the old lord believed.

"The second time was in the reign of Henry VIII. The castle was sacked and the cup taken. All the family were killed, but the nurse managed to save one child, with whom she fled. After a series of adventures the cup was restored and the child regained his inheritance."

"How strange!" said Sybil. "And now that the cup is lost again?"

Kilspindie smiled. "Well, you see, Miss Tempest, I have but one son and he is lost. If I do not find him the title and estates must go to a distant cousin, and the prophecy of the fairies will be fulfilled. That is why I am so anxious to get the cup. If I can find it and bring it back to Kilspindie Castle, I am certain that I shall find my boy."

"A wild story," said the vicar, after a pause. "There is oftentimes a grain of truth in these folktales. But tell me, how came it that the cup was stolen the third time?"

"I am about to tell you," replied the visitor. "There was a woman called Janet Grant, the daughter of one of my tenants. She was in service at my place, but after some years she became weary of the dull life. We are not very lively up in the north," said Kilspindie, with a laugh. "However, this woman got tired and went up to London. There, I believe, she obtained a situation, but what her life was while absent I do not know. She was always reticent on the point. After six years she returned. In the interval I had married, and at the time Janet returned, or a year before, my wife became a mother. I was the father of a splendid boy, my son and heir, Lord Morven. Janet was taken back into my service as an under nurse, for she was a very capable woman."

"Had she a good temper?" asked Sybil, guessing what was coming.

"One of the worst tempers in the world. Also she was evil in her disposition. Had I known then what was told to me afterwards by the other servants, she should never have re-entered my service. But they were all afraid of Janet and her wicked ways, and therefore remained silent when it was their duty to speak out. When the boy was two years of age, or it may be a trifle over, the head nurse died. Janet expected to succeed, but my wife appointed another woman."

"She did not trust Janet," hinted the vicar.

"No. By this time Janet was not so careful in her behaviour, and my wife began to suspect her true character. Janet was very angry at the slight – as she called it – and swore she would be revenged. Of course, she knew the legend of the cup, so it struck her, no doubt, that if she stole the cup the usual disaster would follow."

"What superstition!" murmured Mr Tempest.

"Well, I don't know, sir," said Kilspindie, quietly. "You see, Mr Tempest, we had chapter and verse for what might happen. However, Janet, out of revenge, took away the child and stole the cup. She had no difficulty in doing either. The cup was placed in the picture gallery under a glass shade, for no one ever expected that it would be stolen. It was not guarded so carefully as it should have been. But who would have thought that any one of my faithful servants would steal? As to the child, Janet was one day sent out with him. The head nurse remained at home. I believe she then took the cup with her. At all events she never returned, and when a search was made both the child and the cup were missing." Here Lord Kilspindie stopped and shook his head.

"What happened after that?" asked Sybil, curiously.

"There is no more to tell, Miss Tempest. The woman vanished utterly with the child and the cup. My wife, poor soul, died of grief. I employed all manner of means to find the woman, but without result. I even offered a reward and a pardon if she would bring back what she had taken. But she gave no sign of her existence. Well" – Kilspindie sighed – "that is all. I have been a lonely man for over twenty years, and things have gone wrong with me in every way. I am certain that prosperity will not return to me and mine until the cup is brought back. Then I may hope to recover my son. You can understand now how anxious I am to find this man Pratt. I would willingly pardon him all if he would give back the cup."

"I wonder how he became possessed of it?" said Tempest.

"Ah!" said Kilspindie, "that is what we must find out. He seems to be an accomplished thief, so it may be that he stole the cup. On the other hand, Janet, finding herself hard up, may have pawned it, and Pratt may have got it into his possession in that way. You tell me that he has a love for beautiful things."

"Such a love," said the vicar, sadly, "that he is willing to be a thief to obtain them. Well, my lord, at present I do not see how we can help you."

"There is one way," said Kilspindie, after a pause. "Give me a letter to this Mr Marton, and with his aid I may succeed in tracing Pratt. In the meantime I intend to wait here for a few days. At my age I am not able to get about so rapidly as I once did."

The man did indeed look old and worn-out. But he was a fine, courtly gentleman of what is called the old school, and Sybil was quite fascinated with him. After some further conversation it was arranged that he should remain at the inn until the end of the week – it was now Wednesday – and that afterwards the vicar should accompany him to London to introduce him personally to Marton. Leaving her father and Kilspindie together, Sybil went to her room to think over the strange episode which was the outcome of her advertisement.

She was anxious to tell Leo all about it, but he was at Portfront, and she had received no letter from him. Sybil wondered at this, as it was not like Leo to neglect her. For the moment she was inclined to drive to Portfront and see him. He had given her no reason for his departure, and she was becoming anxious about him. Mrs Gabriel still remained in seclusion, and, so far as Sybil knew, Leo had never been to see her. It was therefore no use talking to Mrs Gabriel about the man she had so cruelly cast off. Her father she could not appeal to because, although he wished to make amends to Leo for his unjust suspicions, he did not wish him to marry her, and would therefore do nothing likely to bring them together. In this dilemma it struck Sybil that she might see Raston; he was a kindly creature, and all through the dark day had believed in Haverleigh's innocence. She thought that Raston might be induced to bring Leo back from Portfront, so Sybil put on her hat and sought out the curate. He was at home and delighted to see her.

"This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Tempest," he said, wheeling the armchair forward. "I hope there is nothing wrong."

"Why should there be anything wrong?" asked Sybil, smiling.

Raston passed his hand across his forehead with a troubled air. "This fact is I do not feel well this morning," he said. "I have received a letter from Town which has worried me. But do not let me inflict my troubles on you, Miss Tempest. What can I do?"

"I'll tell you, Mr Raston. But, first of all, you must promise to keep all I tell you a secret. I don't think I am breaking confidence in saying what is in my mind, as I gave no promise of secrecy. But I must tell you all, as you are the only person who can advise me."

"I promise to keep your secret, whatever it may be, Miss Tempest."

"Then listen to the latest information about the cup," said Sybil, and forthwith related to Raston the news of Lord Kilspindie's arrival, and how he had been brought to Colester by means of the advertisement. Having made this preliminary explanation, she related the story which had been told to her father and herself. As no promise of secrecy had been given, Sybil did not think she was doing wrong; and, besides, it was necessary for Raston to know all the details before he could help her to bring Leo back. Finally, she had the utmost confidence in the curate's silence.

"It is a most extraordinary story," he said, when she had finished; "and more curious still – " here he stopped short and considered. "I can tell you what is in my mind later," he said; "at present you must let me know in what way I can serve you."

"I want you to help me with Leo," said Sybil, promptly. "For some reason he has gone to Portfront and is stopping there. I would go over myself and bring him back, but I am afraid of offending my father. I want Leo to be introduced to Lord Kilspindie."

"For what reason, Miss Tempest?"

Sybil looked at the ground, and began to draw diagrams with a dainty shoe. "Well, Mr Raston, you know that I want to marry Leo," she said, with a blush, "and at present there are so many obstacles to our engagement. My father is not so just towards Leo as he should be. I suppose this is because he is poor and has no prospects. If he enlists and goes to the war, I do not see how that will bring us together. Even if he gets a commission I cannot marry him. There will not be enough money. Now, I thought that as I had done something to bring Lord Kilspindie a chance of getting back the cup, he might be induced to do something for myself and Leo."

"Something might come of it, certainly, Miss Tempest."

"I am sure Lord Kilspindie is very kind," she said in a feminine way. "He looks kind. Leo has delightful manners, as you know, Mr Raston. He is clever in his own way and well educated. Lord Kilspindie might take a fancy to him and make him a secretary or something. At all events, he might put him in the way of earning money, for I am sure that Lord Kilspindie has power as well as wealth."

"Then you want Leo to come back and meet him?"

"Yes. You must tell him all I have told you, and say that if he loves me he must come back at once."

"I shall do what you say, Miss Tempest, and if I can induce Leo to return he certainly shall. I do not know why he went to Portfront. His name was cleared, and he need have had no hesitation in remaining at Colester."

"I'm sure I don't know what is the matter with him," said Sybil, with a sigh; "he has been so strange lately. I am sure he is keeping something from me. But if I get him to myself I'll find out what it is. But you will go to Portfront, Mr Raston?"

"Yes. This afternoon. In fact, I was going that way in any case, Miss Tempest, as I intend to journey to London."

"Why are you going to London?" asked Sybil in surprise. She knew that Raston rarely went to the great city.

The curate hesitated again and rubbed his hair in a distracted way. "I would rather you did not ask me, Miss Tempest," he said at length. "I am going to London in answer to a letter. I hope to be back on Saturday. I have to preach on Sunday, as you know. The vicar said something about taking a service at Portfront."

"As Lord Kilspindie will be at church on Sunday," said Sybil, "I think papa will stay. He looks upon Lord Kilspindie as his guest."

"Well, in any case I'll be back," said the curate, with a nod; "then I shall be able to tell you the reason I had to go. In the meantime, Miss Tempest, I wish you would see Pearl Darry occasionally. She goes wandering about the moor lamenting her lost soul, poor creature. I have been with her a good deal, but while I am away she may do something desperate. You see her, Miss Tempest, and persuade her that she is under the care of the Master."

"I'll do my best," replied Sybil; "but I am afraid I am not good enough to preach, Mr Raston. What a shame of Mrs Jeal to put these ideas into the girl's head! She knew that Pearl was not sane, and to make her think such things was downright dangerous."