Lord of the Far Island by Victoria Holt (free e novels .TXT) 📕

she tells us and whether her ancestor in fact found the mermaid, I'll leave you to guess. Old Tassie has always been there as long as I can remember."

"And people really believe in her!"

"Some do. If their wishes are granted they think Tassie has helped them. If they aren't, they think it's due to something they have failed in. It couldn't work out better than that from Tassie's point of view."

"And what about you? Do you believe her?"

He looked at me steadily. "I'm like the rest. If I get what I want, I do."

"And if you don't?"

"My dear Ellen, I always make sure I do."

We returned to the castle and I was preoccupied all the rest of the day thinking of this new aspect in our relationship and asking myself if it had really been there or I had imagined it; and when I retired to my room and lighted my candles and the shadows began to form I remembered Silva, and it seemed to me that her spirit brooded over the dimly lit room.

"My sister," I whispered; and I seemed to sense a response about me. It was fancy, of course. Jago would laugh at me. He laughed at so much—at Tassie (and how much had he commanded her to say?), at the manner in which he had behaved in London both at the recital and the house in Finlay Square. The disconcerting aspect was that when I was with him I could accept these things in the light he wished me to; it was only when I considered them calmly that they seemed, at the least, exceedingly unconventional. But then he was unconventional; he was also unpredictable. I could not understand him; yet he had betrayed something during the afternoon. He did not want my friendship with Michael Hydrock to grow any more than Gwennol and Jenifry did; but was I right in thinking it was for a different reason?

He had enjoyed listening to Tassie, the wise woman who gave her clients what they wanted whether it was something to cure their warts and sties or wedding bells.

Could it really be that Jago Kellaway wanted to be my husband!

It was a disturbing thought, but if I was honest I must say that it was one which excited me. Yet what did I really know of him? What did I know of anyone here?

"Silva," I whispered into the gloom. "Are you there, Silva?" I listened. The curtains moved lightly in the breeze but there was no sound but the distant murmur of the sea.

The next day I went to find Slack.

He was in the courtyard feeding a sea gull which stood on the cobbles and was eating fish from a saucer.

"Her can't fly, Miss Ellen," Slack told me. "Found her on the cliffs I did. Her wings be all clogged with oil. Cowering on that ridge she were and I reckon had had no food for days. 'Twasn't only that—the others was pecking at her. Birds be terrible cruel one to the other. If one be maimed or different-like, they peck it to death. People be like that sometimes. They don't always like them as are different."

He spoke without sadness, merely as though he were stating a simple fact, although I knew he was likening himself to a bird who was "different." He accepted what life had given him. He was content to be different and never forgot that God had given him the Power, as he called it.

"What a good thing you found it," I said.

"Her's frightened yet. But her's calmer when I speak to her. When I picked her up first her tried to flutter and fight me but when I spoke to her and told her it was only Old Slack, who knew what to do and make her well again, her was quiet. See, I'm getting the oil off her wings. But I don't want her flying yet. I want to feed her . . . slow-like at first. Mustn't gobble up too much yet. There now, my pretty, Slack 'ull look after 'ee, you see."

"What happened to the pigeon with the injured leg?"

"Bold as brass now. He have forgot he were ever hurt."

"And suitably grateful to Slack, I hope."

"I wouldn't want that, Miss Ellen. Tis thanks enough to see him there, pecking at his maize, sitting on my hand, head cocked on one side as though to say: 'Hello, Slacky. I'm myself again.'"

"Slack," I said, "I've come to ask you something. Will you come out in a boat with me. I shall do the rowing. I just want you to sit with me. I've promised Mr. Jago that I won't take a boat out alone . . . yet."

He was pleased to be asked. His great pleasure in life was looking after people, and the fact that I trusted him enough to ask him to go with me delighted him.

I rowed round the Island.

"You be proper good with the oars, Miss Ellen," he said. "And you soon get to know where the rocks are. 'Tis safe enough if you don't go too far out to sea though there'd be little danger on a sea like this one. But you do know how quick a breeze can arise. The sea can be smooth like a sheet of silk; then in fifteen minutes she can get all angry and ruffled up. That's what 'ee've got to watch for if 'ee be going to the mainland. Rowing round the Island be easy enough. There be many little bays where you could land if need be."

"Do you hear of many people drowning?"

I was watching him intently and I saw the shutter come down over his eyes.

"There have been," he said.

"There was my half sister Silva," I suggested.

He was silent.

I went on: "You knew her, of course, Slack."

"Yes, I did know her."

"Just think. She was my sister and I never knew her. I was three years old when I left here and I believe she must have been about