[Frontispiece: "She lifted her skinny arm above her head. "]

ROGER TREWINION

By

JOSEPH HOCKING

 _Author of "All Men are Liars" "The Scarlet Woman"_ _"A Flame of Fire" etc. Etc. _

_ILLUSTRATIONS BY GUNNING KING_

LONDON

WARD LOCK & CO LIMITED

1905

_BY THE SAME AUTHOR. _

 ALL MEN ARE LIARS FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN ISHMAEL PENGELLY THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX JABEZ EASTERBROOK THE MONK OF MAR-SARA ZILLAH: A Romance WEAPONS OF MYSTERY MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH THE BIRTHRIGHT: A ROMANCE AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE? THE SCARLET WOMAN THE PURPLE ROBE THE MADNESS OF DAVID DARING LEST WE FORGET O'ER MOOR AND FEN GREATER LOVE ESAU FOLLOW THE GLEAM A FLAME OF FIRE THE COMING OF THE KING

CONTENTS

 CHAP. 

 PROLOGUE I THE PROPHETIC WARNING II THE WITCH'S WARNING III THE MARCH OF EVENTS IV THE WRECK ON THE "DEVIL'S TOOTH" V THE SHAPING OF EVENTS VI LINK TO LINK VII THE WITCHES' CAVE VIII THE BEGINNING OF THE END IX OMENS OF DARKNESS X THE GATHERING DARKNESS XI THE CALL TO RENOUNCE XII NIGHT XIII A WANDERER XIV "A HOME ON THE ROLLING DEEP" XV THE VOICE OF THE SOUL XVI AFTER LONG YEARS XVII REVENGE! XVIII HELL! XIX TOWARDS RUTH'S GRAVE XX "VISIT HER TOMB" XXI THE VAULT UNDER THE COMMUNION XXII THE VOICE OF THE DEAD XXIII THE SHADOW OF EVIL'S REWARD XXIV CAIN XXV THE VOICE OF A FRIEND XXVI THE VOICE OF GOD XXVII WITHIN THE OLD HOME XXVIII TREWINION'S CURSE XXIX MOTHER AND SON XXX THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT XXXI TO THE RESCUE XXXII TWO HEARTS XXXIII THE DAWNING OF THE MORNING EPILOGUE

ILLUSTRATIONS

"She lifted her skinny arm above her head. " . . . . . . _Frontispiece_

"'Hurl him over!' said the devil within me. "

"'What have 'ee got there?' he gasped. "

PREFACE

When visiting my native county some time since, I was struck with themodern, "up-to-date, " aspect of men and things. In this respectCornwall has much changed even during the twenty years since I left it. The quiet, old-world feeling which I can remember has gone, and insteadthere is a spirit of eagerness, almost amounting to rush. Idiscovered, too, that the old stories, dear to me, are forgotten. Allthe old superstitions have passed away. I remember asking a manwhether there were any witches or ghosts in his vicinity. "Look, " hesaid, in reply, pointing at a telegraph post, "they things 'avedestroyed boath witches and ghoasts. " And yet, less than four decadesago, when I was a child, ghosts, witches, charms, omens, and the likewere firmly believed in. Perhaps the most vivid remembrance I have ofmy childhood's days, are those connected with the weird stories of thesupernatural which my mother used to tell us, as I with my brothers andsisters sat around a roaring fire on winter evenings. I called tomind, too, the haunted places, which I feared to pass after dark; buton inquiring of the new generation concerning these same places, Ifound an utter ignorance of their old-time reputation. Old Tommy Dain, the famous wizard, is forgotten, while Betsey Flew, she who couldblight corn, cause milk to turn sour, and ill-wish all but the eldestson of a family, has no part in the life of the present generation. And yet I remember wearing, for months, a charm which old Betsey hadprepared for me, with what result I cannot tell, save that I never hadthe disease from which the charm was to save me. As for curing warts, crooked legs, weak backs, and other ailments by the means used in thegood old days--well, they are utterly forgotten. In short, Cornwall, which even in my boyish days was the very Mecca of Folklore andsuperstition, has been completely changed. The spirit of "modernity"is everywhere, and thus the old West Country has gone, and a new WestCountry has taken its place. 

Whether this has been an unmixed blessing, or not, I have grave doubts;anyhow, the Cornwall I love to think about is the Cornwall of myboyhood, when apparitions from the spirit-land were common, when omensand charms were firmly believed in, and when the village parson hadpower to "lay a ghost, " by reading the burial service a second timeover a grave, and taking great care to turn the prayer-book"up-side-down. "

Much of the story which is here offered to the public was written someyears ago, when the memory of the old time was more vivid than it isnow; and although it has been re-written, I trust I have retained inits pages something of the atmosphere of mystery and romance for whichmy native county was once so famous. Indeed, the prologue, while notabsolutely true to fact, is true in spirit. The story is not mine atall, but was told me long years ago by those who were old when I wasbut a boy, and who had no doubt of the truth of what they related. Iam afraid I have not pieced their somewhat confused narratives togethervery well, although one told me by an old dame with wild eyes, and astrong love for a "bit ov bacca, " which is reproduced in the chapterentitled "The Vault under the Communion, " haunts me even yet. 

JOSEPH HOCKING. 

TREVANION, WOODFORD GREEN, _The New Year_, 1905. 

PROLOGUE

I

The following story came to my knowledge under somewhat curiouscircumstances:--

I had gone to Cornwall, my native county, to spend my summer vacation, and there met with an old college chum, who asked me to accompany himon a walking tour. 

"Where?" I asked. 

"Let us do the Cornish coast, " he replied, "it is the finest and mostrugged coast in England. The scenery around is magnificent; there arenumberless old legends told about many of the places we shall see; andI know that legends have always had a great attraction for you. "

I must confess to a weakness for anything romantic, and was attractedby the proposal. Accordingly, we journeyed by train and coach to themost northern watering-place on the eastern coast of Cornwall, viz. , Bude, and commenced our journey southward. 

As this personal reminiscence is only written to tell how I came by theremarkable history which follows, I shall say nothing of our journeythat has not a direct bearing on that history. 

We had been walking some days, I need not say how many, when we saw, standing on a rough headland, and yet some little distance from thesea, an old house. It caught my attention the moment I first glancedat it. Grey and lonely, it looked the residence of some misanthrope orhermit, and its tower and battlements gave it the appearance of somefeudal castle. 

"That's a strange looking old place, Will, " I said to my companion. 

"It is, indeed, " he replied. "It looks in good repair, too. I wonderif it's inhabited?"

"The best way to know is to go and see, " I replied, and accordingly webent our steps thither. 

As we drew nearer we saw a hollow, which looked as though it had beenscooped out by some giant's spade. In it were built two or threecottages, and by the fact of there being some tumbled-down houses near, we came to the conclusion that at one time a little village must havestood there. 

"What in the world have people to do or live for here?" said Will. "Weare five miles from any place that can be called a town, and there'sscarcely a house near. Everything is as weird and lonely as thewilderness of Judea. "

"I expect they live on the fish they catch, and the produce of theirlittle farms, " I said; "but come, there's a man yonder, we'll questionhim. "

Accordingly we hailed him and he waited, evidently with some degree ofcuriosity, until we came up. 

"What's the name of this place?" asked Will. 

"Trewinion, " was the reply. 

"Trewinion? Is it in the parish of Trewinion?"

"Iss. "

"Is there a parish church anywhere near?"

"Iss. "

"Where?"

"There, " pointing southward. 

We saw a little grey tower about half a mile away, evidently a part ofthe building after which we had been inquiring. 

"Are there any houses there?" we asked. 

"Five. "

"Whose are they?"

"Passon Teague's, Muster Yelland's, Bill Treloar's, Tom Williams's, andJack Jory's. "

"And what's the name of yonder place?" asked Will, pointing to the oldhouse we had seen on the great headland. 

The man looked at us curiously, and then replied:

"Trewinion Manor. "

"It looks old, " I said. "Is it?"

"Ould's Mathusla, " was the brief reply. 

"Who lives there?"

"Th' oull Sir Nick. "

"Sir Nick" is the term usually applied by the Cornish people to hisSatanic Majesty. Scenting a story I eagerly inquired what he meant. 

"Well, he d' live there, " was the reply. 

"And what does he do?"

The man shook his head gravely. "Nobody knows but hisself, " was thereply. 

"But does the devil live there alone?" asked Will. 

The man looked at us again, as though he wondered who we were. 

"Who be you?" he said. 

"We are simply out for a holiday, " I replied, "and, as we were walkingalong, we saw that old place, and wondering what it was, and to whom itbelonged, we thought we'd ask. "

"Then you be'ant no friend or 'lation to un up there?" he said. 

"None. "

"Nor you wa'ant say nothin' to un ef I tell 'ee?"

"Not a word. "

"Well, then, ould Squire Trewinion do live there. "

"Alone?"

The man shook his head. 

"Two ould servants, " he said, solemnly. 

"Is there anything strange about him?" I asked. 

"Shud think ther es, " he replied. 

"What?"

"What! Why he've sold hisself to tho'ull Sir Nick, who do stick to unlike a limpet to a rock. "

As this mediaeval belief has scarcely died away among the Cornishpeople, I attached no importance to it, but asked in a jocular way forwhat he had sold himself. 

"Nobody knows, " the man replied, "but he hev sould hisself, and now hedo never come out to shaw hisself nor nothin'. He wa'ant speak tonobody, and is as ugly as sin. "

"Are these Trewinions important people?" asked Will. 

"'Portant!" said the man, "sh'd think they be; why oal the land rounddo belong to un, and I've heerd my faather say as 'ow in th' ould daysit was the grandest plaace in oal Cornwall; but now--m--m--m!"

"Now, what?" I asked. 

"Hunted!"

"Hunted! Haunted, I suppose you mean. By what?"

"Ghoasts and evil sperrits, as well as with th' oull Sir Nick. "

"Do you ever go up there?"

"No; I kip away in the daytime, and as fur goin' ther after dark, Iwouldn't for a crock of gould. "

We asked the man many more questions, but could get nothing muchfurther from him. All I could gather was that the Trewinions had beena great people, but had fallen on evil days as the result of their ownsinning, and that the present representative of the family was arecluse, living alone in the old Manor House, and that many curiousstories were told about him. 

"Well, " said Will to me, "I think we've heard enough; let us get awayfrom this outlandish place. "

"Not until I've inquired at the place itself, " I replied. 

"You are mad, " said he. "Evidently this old man is some strangecreature, who prefers living alone, and will no doubt think it a pieceof impudence on our part if we call. Perhaps he will set the dogsafter us. "

"Nevertheless, I'm going, " I replied. "If you like to remain behind, you may do so; but I want to know the truth of this. I suspect a goodstory. "

"Oh, well, if you will be foolish, I'll go, " said Will, "but rememberwe have to walk twelve miles before we get to our resting-placeto-night. "

I did not reply, but went away in the direction of Trewinion Manor, while Will, grumbling, came on behind. 

As we ascended the hill the view became wondrously grand. At leastfifteen miles of coast were to be seen, with great rugged cliffs, hundreds of feet high, while huge rocks stood out in the sea as ifinviting the fury of the waves as they broke upon them. In winter itmust be almost terrible to live there, but now it was beautiful beyondcompare. We found, too, that the old house was somewhat sheltered, onthe one hand by the great headland which rose higher as it neared thesea, and on the other by a thick, lofty wall. Besides this, a hillwhich rose up landward broke the force of the wind, so that it was notso exposed as I had at first thought. 

There was no way of entering the grounds save by a door that waslocked. It was thick and heavy, made of oak, and iron studded. 

"Evidently those within are determined to keep out intruders, " I said, as I saw the grim forbidding wall. 

"I should think so, " replied Will. "Now let's go on, for it's onlywaste of time to stay here. "

My love for the mysterious, however, was too strong to allow Will'swords to have due effect, and seeing a breach in the wall I climbed it. I found that this enclosure had so far sheltered the grounds of thehouse that a quantity of vegetation of various kinds had grown there, and although the place was now in a very neglected condition, it mustin past years have provided for a great household. The house lookedextremely lonely, and no soul was to be seen. I confess I was taken alittle aback at this. To gain admittance did not seem either aspleasant or as easy as at first sight. I did not like to shout. Thesilence of the place, only broken by the sobbing of the waves, hundredsof feet below, forbade it, while to knock at the old iron-studded doorwas equally unseemly. 

Yet I did not like to go away. My curiosity continued to increase, soI came down from the wall and began to examine the door. To my delightI saw fastened to a great gray rock, on which the door was partly hung, a piece of iron at the end of a chain. 

Evidently this was in some way a means of communication with the house. I seized, and pulled it. 

No sooner had I done so than I heard the clanging of a bell away up inthe old house. 

"There, " I said to Will, who had kept on protesting, "perhaps that islike the bells in the old monasteries; it will frighten away all evilspirits. "

Will grumbled about my having "plenty of cheek, " while I waited, somewhat anxiously, I confess, for an answer. 

Presently I heard a murmur of voices within, and then the withdrawingof bolts. After a few seconds the door turned on its rusty hinges andrevealed two men both about fifty years of age. 

"What do you want?" asked one sternly. 

"I want to see Squire Trewinion, " I replied boldly. I felt it would beof no use hesitating, and although I had no earthly business there Idetermined to get admittance. 

"Why do you wish to see him?" was the next question. 

"I will answer that to Mr. Trewinion himself, " I said. 

"Your names, then?"

"They are unknown to you, " I replied, "and my telling them could serveno purpose. Lead the way to your master. "

They looked at us suspiciously; but seeing two young men, well dressedand with plenty of assurance, they seemed inclined to let us in. Consequently a minute after we stood within the walls that surroundedthis place of evil repute, the door being carefully locked behind us. 

The two men, evidently servants, led the way up an unused road, bywhich we reached the tower entrance. Neither spoke a word. 

On coming close to Trewinion Manor we found that it was built ofgranite, and had evidently been standing for hundreds of years. Thestones of the doorways were curiously carved, and even the exterior ofthe place looked as though it contained a hundred secrets. It waslarge, too, and must at some time have been the home of people ofwealth. 

The view was wonderful. In front of us stretched the mighty Atlantic, whose murmuring song told of the peaceful waves that now splashed onthe shore. I had seen the Atlantic in a tempest, however, and so couldeasily fancy what a sight there must be when the waters beneath werelashed into fury by great storm clouds. 

Arrived at the door, our guides stopped. 

"We can show you no further without permission, " said the spokesman. "I will tell the master you are here, and see if he will receive you. "

Accordingly he went away, while the other stood at some little distancewatching us. 

"I've caught your mystery fever, " said Will. "I'm longing to getinside now; but what excuse are you going to make for intruding?"

"I've settled that, " I replied. "Our visit is an ordinary one, and Ishall tell no lies. "

I had scarcely spoken when the man returned, telling us to follow him, as his master would see us. 

A minute later we stood within the silent walls of Trewinion Manor. 

II

There was a cold vault-like atmosphere within the place, and as we wentalong the dark corridors, every footstep sounding on the granite floorand echoing through the great empty house, I felt like shuddering. 

Outside the sun was shining and the west wind blowing, makingeverything bright and glad; but within all was cold and forbidding. 

Still we followed the man curiously, and I must confess I felt my heartbeat loudly against my ribs as he knocked at a dark, forbidding lookingdoor. I do not think I am usually nervous, but on this occasion I wasgetting excited. 

The knock was followed by a response. 

"Come in, " said a voice. 

The old servant opened the door, and ushered us into a room that was onevery side lined with books. There were thousands of volumes on theshelves. Some I saw were old and scarce, and exceedingly valuable. Others again were new and well bound. I gave them but little attentionat the time, however, for my mind was drawn towards the lonely occupantof the room, the master of the house. 

He looked about sixty years of age, but was large-boned, tall, andvigorous. His hair was iron grey, but had evidently been black. Hiseyes were black, and his great rugged forehead was fringed with bushyeyebrows, which gave him a somewhat fierce appearance. His nose waslarge, his mouth was large, and his chin, too, was large, square, anddetermined. He was no ordinary man. There was the stamp of unusualpower upon him. He was no trifler, and yet beneath his look ofdetermination and energy something was lacking. He seemed as thoughhis determination needed to be roused, his energy to be stimulated. Yet I could see nothing in his appearance which justified the opinionswe had heard expressed about him, nor could I discover anything whichsuggested a misanthrope. 

He placed chairs for us both, and then politely asked what he could doto serve us. He had a strong, deep, somewhat musical voice, and had Inot been otherwise informed, I should have regarded him as one whooften entertained visitors, so free from restraint did he seem. 

"I hope you will excuse us for calling, " I said, "but my story mustexplain my rudeness. I follow literature as a profession, and have forsome months been engaged on a work dealing with the legends andsuperstitious beliefs of Cornwall. I am, however, enjoying my vacationnow, and my friend and I are on a walking tour along the coast. Seeingthis old grey mansion, and thinking there might be some story inconnexion with its early days, I have taken the liberty of calling. "

He looked at me curiously, as though he suspected me of some sinistermotive, and his black eyes glittered. 

"Have you heard anything which would lead you to think this house had astory? or have you come here out of pure speculation?" he said, brusquely. 

"I suspected there must be legends about a house as old as this, " Ireplied, "and a man we met some distance from here told usthat--that----"

"You need not go further, " he said, grimly, "I know all the storiesthat are afloat among the people who live within a few miles of theplace. You have heard that I have sold myself to the devil, and thatthe house is haunted by evil spirits?"

I did not reply. 

"You are bold fellows to come here, " he continued, "for I am reportedto have wonderful powers, being able to call to my aid the might of theking of darkness. But I do not know your names and so cannot talkfreely with you. "

I told him our names. 

"I know you both by reputation, " he said. "You, " turning to Will, "area barrister, and bidding fair to donning silk, while you, " turning tome, "are making your name known as a novelist. "

"I have read your books, " he continued; "and--well"--he stopped andmused a minute, and then, pointing to the bookshelves, continued--"Iget nearly everything. Science, religion, history, travel, poetry, romance, I see them all. That's how I know your names and professions. I send one of my servants to Plymouth every month, and thus I get all Ineed. "

We soon fell to talking about books, and I found that intellectuallythis Squire Trewinion was a man of more than ordinary power. We hadnot conversed long however, before I saw a great change come over him. He seemed possessed by some nervous dread, and was evidently anxious todrop the subject of books. 

Seeing this, I turned the conversation to the old house in which westood, and asked him the year of its erection. 

"It dates from the time of Charles II, " he said, "and is, perhaps, thebest built house in the whole county. And it had need to be so, forthe storms which sometimes beat upon us are terrific. "

"Are there any stories or legends about it?" I said, laughingly. 

He looked at me as though he would read my heart's inmost secrets, andthen burst out:

"Yes, there are stories, there are legends, there are mysteries, andthey are true. "

I thought at first that he was joking, but he continued:

"Yes, there is truth in the wildest story afloat, not perhaps in theexact way that the ignorant clowns think; but, sir----"

He stopped again for a second, as if making up his mind upon somepoint. Evidently, his lonely mode of living caused him to actdifferently from the conventional society man. 

"We Trewinions are an old race, sir, and some of my ancestors have beenvery violent, " he continued. 

"That is not to be wondered at, " I replied. "Life here, a century ago, must have been far different from the life of to-day, while earlierstill, when smugglers sought the caves around, and pirates sailed theseas, it must have been almost impossible for anyone to live in such aneighbourhood as this without leading a strange life. "

"You are interested in mysterious stories and legends, are you not?" hesaid. 

I told him that I had almost a passion for the supernatural, themysterious, and the occult. 

He looked at me again, long and steadily. 

"I have read some things you have written, " he said at length. "Youdabbled a little in the mysterious in them; but I have in my possessiona history----"

Again he stopped, and I begged him to go on, for I felt he hadsomething of importance to tell me. 

"You said you were writing a book on the superstitions and legends ofCornwall, " he said, "and were anxious to collect anything that might beof interest. "

I told him that this was so. 

At this he went to the window and looked out over the blue expanse ofthe sea, after which he turned towards me, and looked steadily into myface. 

"I have a strange impulse on me, " he said. 

I made no answer to his words, but frankly met his gaze. 

"You are an utter stranger to me in one way, " he went on, "but bothyour personal appearance and your writings suggest that you and I havemuch in common. Besides, great God! although I live the life of ahermit, I long at times for the companionship of a kindred soul. "

I was still silent, deeming that this was the best means of obtaininghis confidence. 

"It seems like pure madness, " he said at length, "but, look here, wouldyou care to look at a manuscript, which not only contains suggestionsof one-time superstitions and customs, but something of the history ofan old Cornish family?"

"I should be more than delighted to see it, " was my reply. 

For a moment he muttered as if to himself, then, like a man taking agreat resolution, he turned to a large safe and unlocked it. His handtrembled as he did so, as though he were afraid. 

"I have only read the manuscript once, " he said, "and I have not seenit for twenty years. I tremble as I look for it now. You will knowwhy when you have read it. "

He took from the safe a large parcel, wrapped in paper, on which werewritten the following words:

"THE CONFESSIONS

OF

ROGER TREWINION, OF

TREWINION MANOR, CORNWALL. 

"May the Lord have mercy upon me a miserable sinner. "

"Roger Trewinion was my grandfather, " said he, as he saw me looking atthe name. "My father was called Roger--I am called Roger--the last ofmy race. If--ah--if--but I daren't think of that. "

"And may I read these confessions?" I asked eagerly, for I longed toget away alone and commence them. 

"Yes, I am going to let you. How I dare trust you with them I don'tknow, except that I've read one or two of your books, and, well I am aman of strong impulses. It is characteristic of my race. Besides, Ifeel like trusting you. 

"After you've read it, " he continued, "you will know why I live here asI do; you will understand something of the web of mystery that is wovenabout this place. You will see the curse that rests upon my life. "

"Curse?" I said questioningly. 

"When you have finished with it, " he went on, without heeding my words, "bring the old manuscript back, and I will lock it up again. Much as Iwish it had never been written, or rather, the deeds it recalls hadnever been done, I would not like to lose it now, for it possesses astrange fascination for me. "

We stayed an hour longer at Trewinion Manor, not liking to decline thehospitality which was proffered us. But I was anxious to be alone. The story of the grandfather of the present owner of this strange placewas of paramount interest to me, and so, after many promises, manyquestions and many requests, I hastened away with my precious burdenunder my arm. 

I remember nothing of the journey along the coast that day, except thatI was constantly hurrying Will along so that we might more quicklyreach the watering-place where our luggage had been sent, and where wehad engaged rooms. 

Arrived there I went immediately to the apartment allotted to me, whereI left "the Confessions. " After a hasty meal, I ordered candles andreturned to my room to read, while Will went out to see the town. 

I read on all the night, nor did I cease until I had finished themanuscript which Roger Trewinion had placed in my hands. 

It is not now my purpose to tell you my impressions concerning it. Thefact that the story therein told follows this chapter bears witness tothe interest I found in it. Whether it will prove equally interestingto the reader is not for me to say. 

I have now told how I came by these confessions of Roger Trewinion, soI need write little more concerning them. 

Let it be understood, however, that my only share in the story is thatof editor and reviser. Much of it had to be re-written and much of thedialect transposed into ordinary English. Still, the history standspractically as I found it, and, wherever I have re-written or revised, I have endeavoured to retain the spirit in which Roger Trewinionoriginally wrote. 

Of the belief and deeds of the writer, I may have a few words to say byand bye; but my only duty at present is to lay before you the historyhe wrote at a time when strange deeds were done in this western county, and when its people were influenced and bound by strange and sometimescruel superstitions. 

THE END OF PROLOGUE. 

CHAPTER I

THE PROPHETIC WARNING

"_And the boys grew, and Esau was a cunning hunter, a man of the field;and Jacob was a plain man, dwelling in tents. And Isaac loved Esau;but Rebekah loved Jacob. _"

What I, Roger Trewinion, am about to write is true. I tell what I haveseen, and heard, and have been. 

I was born in the year of our Lord, 1750. I am now sixty years of age. 

My family is an ancient one; not that I boast of it, for familiesreckon as little when the terrible realities of life press heavily uponus. Still, in mentioning the fact that my family is ancient andhonourable, I do not do so without a purpose. Events will show that itmatters not much what name we bear if the man within us be not strongto resist temptation. 

Our family included, besides myself, one son and two daughters. Theson, my brother, was called Wilfred, my two sisters, Katherine andElizabeth. I am the elder son, and am called Roger after my father. Wilfred was born two years after me. Katherine and Elizabeth wererespectively four and six years younger than myself. 

People always said I was a true son of my father. From my childhood Iwas big, strong, and daring. I must add, too, that I was passionateand revengeful. My brother was neither so tall nor so daring as I; buthe was, nevertheless, exceedingly strong and wiry, and although, beingthe older, I was the stronger of the two, I often had difficulty inproving myself the master. Especially was this seen when we used towrestle on the soft, spongy grass that grows on the headland. I couldlift him from the ground and throw him over my head, such was myadvantage in weight and strength. Yet so cunning was he, and so agile, that he would cling around me, and twine his limbs around mine, so thatI had to be very careful or I should have been disgraced by beingthrown. 

Our dispositions, too, were different. I was noisy, boisterous, passionate and outspoken. Wilfred was quiet and thoughtful. I oftendid deeds without thinking; but not so Wilfred; he weighed andconsidered both his words and actions. Consequently I was ever gettinginto scrapes, but Wilfred seldom or never. 

I was my father's favourite. I was a sturdy young dog, he said, justlike the rest of the Trewinion race, and would be an honour to my name. Wilfred, on the other hand, received but little notice from my father, but was the darling of my mother's heart. My father saw little or nofault in me and saw plenty in Wilfred. My mother saw only perfectionin Wilfred and only imperfections in me. This, I am afraid, raised abarrier between my mother and my father, for which I was then, and amnow, truly sorry. 

In spite of these differences I loved Wilfred very much. Was he not mybrother? were we not born in the same room? did not the same mothersuckle us? and did we not both bear the name of Trewinion? Wilfred, however, did not love me so much. I think it was because he was alittle jealous of me. The jealousy came about in this way. 

Maidens love strength and daring; and as I was able to do for mysisters many thing which Wilfred was unable to do--such as scaling thecliffs for rare plants, getting precious stones, and so forth--I wasmore beloved by them than Wilfred was. Thus, as he saw Katherine andElizabeth ever clinging to me, and avoiding him, he would look darklyat me, and go with his sorrows to our mother, who, in her kindness ofheart, would give him comfort and sometimes indulgences which I do notthink were always good for him. 

Still, we were fairly good friends, and sometimes after I had fought aboy for teasing him, we would be quite happy together. 

I am writing these things now because I think they have a bearing onsome of the events that happened in my after life. 

We were educated at the vicarage of Trewinion by the vicar, the Rev. Thomas Polperrow. The living of Trewinion was only worth about £100per annum, and so Mr. Polperrow was glad to augment his salary bytaking pupils. There were eight boys besides ourselves, who came fromplaces some three or four miles around; so we were able to have rightmerry times together. 

I was not a very good scholar. I found it difficult to apply myself toany task; Wilfred, on the other hand, was the best pupil the vicar had. At twelve years of age he was quite a Latin scholar and was great atEuclid, and mathematics generally. This was exactly as it ought to be, my father said, for Wilfred was to be a clergyman, and when Mr. Polperrow died could be installed into the living. But althoughWilfred had the advantage as far as scholarship went, I had theadvantage of him in other ways. To save my life I could not conjugatea Latin verb; but I knew every creek and cove on our rockbound coast;and had gone into every cave that honeycombed the cliffs. This wasconsidered exceedingly daring on my part, by those who believed, asmany did, that these caves were the nocturnal homes of witches and darkspirits of the dead. It was true that I did not go after dark, for thesobbing waters of the sea wailed and made terrible noises as they sweptinto the caves at night time, and it was then that I used to hearstrange cries as I stood on the top of the cliffs and listened. 

I had no doubt then, nor do I doubt now, that spirits from theinvisible world do appear in such places, and what I have to relatewill fully bear out my belief. Mr. Polperrow, the vicar, has proved onmany occasions that the belief in spirits appearing on earth isscriptural. 

I had reached the age of fifteen when my father came to me as I rambledabout the great headland on which our house is built. 

"This is your birthday, Roger, " he said. 

"Yes, father, " I replied. "Thank you for the new pony. I have justridden over to Rosecarrow to see Tom Tremain. He goes like the wind. "

"Ay, I saw you ride away. You have a firm seat, Roger. I am glad tosee you ride so well. "

"Well, I ought to ride well, father, for you taught me, " I replied. 

"Let's see, you are fifteen to-day, Roger, are you not?"

"Yes, fifteen to-day. "

"What a big lad you are. What weight are you?"

"Nearly eight score pounds, father, " I replied. 

"So much, eh? Well, well, the Trewinions are a big race. I weighed asmuch when I was your age. "

"And see what a big man you are now. "

My father did not reply for a minute; then he said slowly--

"Roger, my boy, when I was fifteen my father took me into the libraryand read to me something which closely affected my welfare. There isno knowing how long I may live, and I think that what was read to methen should be read to you now, for it applies to all the Trewinionheirs. Come with me. "

I followed my father into the house, and we entered the librarytogether. 

"Ours is a curious race, Roger, " my father began. "Our name beganstrangely. God grant that it may not end with you. "

"I hope it may not, father. "

"Cherish the hope, my lad, for the last son of the Trewinions will diea terrible death, haunted by evil spirits. "

I shuddered. 

"The Trewinion race sprang from the Trevanions, " he went on. "Themother of our people was a Trevanion, and she, while but a child inyears--for she was scarcely seventeen--married a nameless nobody, who, fearing the wrath of her brothers, ran away like a coward as soon astheir wedding was found out. When it was known that she was going tobe a mother, Lord Trevanion built a house and sent her here with anurse, blessed with the gift of second sight. When the child wasborn--a son--the nurse, who was held in great respect by the family, sent for Lord Trevanion, who came, wondering at her message. Then shetold him that many things had been revealed to her on the night of thechild's birth, which she thought he ought to know. 

"On being asked what she meant, she replied that messengers from thespirit land had revealed to her that the boy was to be called RogerTrewinion, and that he was to have certain lands in that neighbourhood, then owned by Lord Trevanion. 

"So much was he moved by the nurse's story that this manor house wasbuilt, and the lands now belonging to it were handed over to thischild. And thus, Roger, your name and mine began to be, and thus weown the lands belonging to Trewinion Manor. "

"And what became of the mother of this child, father?" I asked eagerly. 

"She lived many years with her son; lived with him, indeed, until shedied. "

"And he?"

"He married a lady belonging to the Penwardle family, one of the bestfamilies in the county. "

"And so our race has lived here ever since?"

"Ever since. They dare not leave it. If, for six months at a time, the master of the family, or the son and heir, live away from thisplace, built at the command of Heaven, he brings a curse on the race ofTrewinion which shall last unto the third generation. "

I felt very grave, for this was strange news to me. In my young, careless life I had not troubled to ask the history of my family. 

"There are many things I have to say on another occasion, " said myfather, "but most of them can wait. One thing, however, I must tellyou. The nurse who was with the first Trewinion at his birth liveduntil he was blessed with a son, then, according to the records of thehouse of Trevanion, she uttered these words:"

My father here took a piece of paper from a strong box and began toread:

 Trewinion's land so rich and free, Stretching out against the sea, So Trewinion's name shall stand, Like the rocks which on the sand Defy the angry breakers' power, While Trewinion's heir is pure. And so Trewinion's heir and pride A power shall be in the country side. And his enemies one and all Shall for ever droop and fall. 

"This refers to us, father, does it not?" I said. 

"It refers to me and to you; and if God gives you children it refers toyour eldest son and to his eldest son. But I have not read all yet, Roger, my son. Pay good heed to what follows next. 

 But let Trewinion's heir observe Never from the right to swerve, If from God's pure laws he stray Trewinion's power shall die away; His glory given to another; And he be crushed by younger brother. Then his son, though born the first, By the people shall be cursed. 

 And for generations three Trewinion's name shall cursed be, Trewinion's heir must never hate, Never from this law abate. Trewinion's son must e'er forgive Or 'twill be a curse to live. If he take unlawful ways, Dark, indeed, shall be his days. His loved one taken by his brother, His power given to another, Who will surely seal his doom, Unless he claim the powers of wrong. The course cannot be turned aside While evil feeling doth abide. -------- Let these words be ever read, Ere Trewinion's lord be dead, To the true and lawful heir, And so Trewinion's blessings share. 

"It seems very curious, father, " I said, when he had finished. "It ispoor poetry, and has little or no meaning. "

"I will say nothing about the poetry, " replied my father; "no doubt itseems to you poor, silly doggerel; but I have no doubt of this, Roger, your interest and mine lie in abiding by what it says. "

"But it seems so vague, father, " I urged. 

"Not so vague, Roger. Your grandfather took to unlawful ways. He kepta smuggling vessel, which in some cases ought to have carried a blackflag, and the maiden he loved was given to another, who died of abroken heart. For twenty years my father's life was a curse. His mindwas filled with the most horrible fancies. Dark dreams haunted hispillow, and then, although he married my mother, he was until the dayof his death harassed by difficulties and crushed by oppressors. "

"And did he die happy, father?"

My father looked very strange as I asked this question, and for amoment did not reply. Then he said, slowly:

"Roger, my boy, I was with him at the last, and never shall I forgetthe scene. It was as if a terrible dread rested upon him; and heseemed to feel an awful presence in the room. 

"'Can I do anything for you, father?' I asked. 

"'Send for the parson, Roger, ' said he, 'and let him give me rest, orthe curse that rests on me will rest on you. '

"It was midnight, and no one would dare to go, so I rode away alone tothe vicarage. It was an awful ride. The powers of darkness seemed toknow my object, for the elements were against me and I heard terriblehowling along the sea coast; but I feared lest the curse of theTrewinions should fall upon me. The vicar was afraid to come when Itold him about my father; but I threatened to drag him thither by thehair of the head if he refused. At length I got him to ride in frontof me, and we came to my father. 

"Ah, Roger, his cries were fearful! 'Take away Trewinion's curse!' hescreamed, and he looked as though he saw angry spirits around him. 

"The parson prayed, and, in the name of One above, commanded all evilto depart; but for a long time no ease came. Then there was a noiseoutside--three raps against the window, as though a bird had flown upagainst it. The moment after the light in the room changed. 

"'Do you forgive everyone?' said the vicar. 

"'No, ' said my father, 'I can never forgive the man who stole from methe woman I loved. '

"'But, ' said the vicar. 'Trewinion's curse cannot be removed whileunforgiveness is in your heart. '

"My father looked at the blue light on the table, and then said, 'I'lltry and say the Lord's Prayer. ' He went steadily until he came to thewords, 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespassagainst us. '"

"'I can't say the words, ' he groaned. 

"'Say them with all your heart and the curse will be taken away, ' saidthe vicar. 

"My father tried again and succeeded, and no sooner had he done so thanthe light changed and a holy calm rested upon us all. 

"'It's gone, ' said my father. 'May God bless you, Roger, and do younever forget the Trewinion's warning. '

"By this he meant the lines we have been reading. 

"'I will never forget, father, ' I said, and soon after he died happily. "

My father left me then, placing in my hands the old nurse's lines. Fora long time I mused over what he had said, and wondered about mygrandfather's death-bed scene. Was it as my father had said? Was itTrewinion's curse that rested upon him? I began to think of what thevicar, my schoolmaster, had told us only the day before--that every sinbrought a curse, brought misery, brought remorse, and while sin orunforgiveness was cherished in our hearts we could not realisehappiness or forgiveness. Was this the case with my grandfather, orwas my father's belief right?

The interview made a deep impression upon me, however, and a great awerested on me for days. I felt that as the heir of the Trewinions I wassurrounded by terrible powers, and I did not know whether they weregood or evil. So my young mind was fed, and so my imagination wasstimulated. 

What was to be my future? What had the powers which took such aninterest in my race in store for me? Looking back over the years thatare gone I ask, Were the things told me superstitious fancies, or isthe Trewinion curse a reality? Remembering what has happened betweenthen and now, I dare not answer the question. 

CHAPTER II

THE WITCH'S WARNING

 _Ban. _ The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, and these are of them. Whither are they vanished? _Macbeth. _ Into the air; and what seemed corporal, melted, As a breath of wind. Would they had stayed! _Ban. _ Were there such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten up the root That makes the reason prisoner? _Macbeth_, Act. I, Scene 3. 

Let it not be supposed that Wilfred and I ever had any quarrels, at anyrate before my fifteenth birthday. I do not remember even one. This, however, was not my fault. Ofttimes when I was displeased I saidthings which, if said to many brothers, would have provoked a quarrel;but Wilfred apparently took no heed of my angry words; save to give mea peculiar look, which sometimes almost made me shudder. But he neverlost his temper in return, or indulged in violent speech. This waspeculiarly trying to me, for I was passionate, and longed to give ventto my feelings; but he would shrug his shoulders at my rage and, with astrange smile, walk away. 

Consequently, although my brother never spoke angrily to me, there wereno confidences between us. We never told each other our thoughts, asmost brothers do, and we were never companions in any escapades oradventures. Thus I did not speak to him about the curse of theTrewinions, nor of what my father had communicated to me about thehistory of our house. Yet Wilfred seemed to know far more than I didabout everything appertaining to our people. 

At first I wondered about this, but after a while I began to realisehow much my mother and Wilfred were to each other, and how often theywalked together. Besides, I often saw him in the library conning overbooks that to me contained no interest whatever. 

About three years after the interview with my father, that is to say, when I was eighteen years of age and Wilfred sixteen, I had gone out onthe headland, and, in a dreamy way, was watching the sea birds as theysoared around and around, ever and anon making a dive into the water. Up to this time I had remained a pupil of the Rev. Thomas Polperrow, but had been told by my father that my school days were over. Hewould, he said, have sent me either to Cambridge or Oxford but for thefact that the Trewinion heir was forbidden by the laws of the family toleave the house for six months together. In my case it did not matterso much, as Mr. Polperrow had given me all the advantages of hisUniversity education; and as I was not to be a man of letters like mybrother Wilfred, I had all the learning that was necessary for fillingthe position of Squire of Trewinion Manor. 

I was thinking of these things when my brother Wilfred came to me on tothe headland. 

"It's fine to be you, Roger, " he said. 

"Why, Wilfred?"

"Because your cares are over. Your life will be one long holiday, youwill have everything you need, and will be the most important man inthe country side. "

"Yes, " I said, "and you, Wilfred, will be a great scholar. You will bea clergyman and write books. Your name will live long after I am deadand forgotten. "

"It is false, " he said. "My prospects are of the dreariest nature. You will give me the living of Trewinion when Mr. Polperrow dies, and Ishall drone out my life on your bounty. Ah! The thought makes me mad. "

"No, don't say that, Wilfred, " I replied, "you will inherit thevicarage as your right, while you know that everything I can give you Ishall. Besides, I cannot help being the eldest. "

"No, no, you can help nothing, Roger; but there, although I shall be'Wilfred, the penniless' I shall go to Oxford, and perhaps somethingwill turn up there for me. "

"And even if nothing does turn up, Wilfred, and you have to bury yourtalents down here, we shall still be brothers, and we shall still haveeach other. "

I said this because my heart was very tender towards him. I felt sadthat I should have so much and he so little; but he only lookedcuriously at me, and a strange light played in his eyes. 

He left me for a minute, and, walking to the very edge of the cliff, stood watching the waves; then he came back to me again and I thoughthis sadness was gone. 

"What a long time since we've wrestled, Roger, " he said; "let's have ahitch now. "

Wrestling was then, as it is to-day, the favourite sport of Cornishyouths; so I gladly took off my coat, and we began our fun. I soonsaw, however, that Wilfred did not regard it as fun. He strained everymuscle of his body in order to throw me, until I had to put forth mywhole strength. Although I was stronger and heavier than he I had notmuch advantage. He was so supple and knew so many clever tricks thathe was constantly in fair way of obtaining the mastery. 

The grass on which we stood was as soft as a sponge, so no harm couldbefall either of us should we be thrown. At any rate, such was mythought. So becoming a little exasperated at Wilfred's cleverstrategems, I became somewhat rough, and taking him from a vantagepoint I had gained I threw him down with great force. 

I do not think that I hurt him very much, but as chance would have ithe fell on a rock that was concealed by the spongy turf, and when herose he was pale and trembling. 

"You do well, " he said at length, "to show your strength in such a way. First you seek to throw me unfairly, and then you choose a rock bywhich I could be hurt. "

"Nay, Wilfred, " I said, "I did not throw you unfairly; nor did I knowthere was a rock there. They are so much hidden by the turf that itwould take a wizard to tell where they are. But I'm sorry you arehurt; let me help you home. "

He looked at me strangely again. 

"Help me home?" he said; "no, I can go without help; and I tell youthis, Roger, big as you are I'm as strong as you. "

This pricked my pride. "As strong as I, Wilfred, why I could throw youover my head. "

"Yes, you say that now because my arm has been hurt on this rock; butyou wouldn't dare to wrestle again if I were well. "

This put me into a passion. "Not dare!" I cried. "If I daren't itwould be because I should be afraid of hurting your poor, thin body. Name any day you like and I'll take you. "

"No, " he said, "I've had enough of you. Never mind, my turn will come. "

I again challenged him, and said all the things I could to vex him; buthe would not reply, and giving me another of his strange looks he wenttowards the house. 

He had not been gone long before my temper began to cool down, andloving my brother very much I began to blame myself a great deal. Icondemned myself for not letting him throw me. I was a coward and abrute, I thought within myself, to hurt my younger brother, and actingon the impulse of the moment I hurried towards the house in order toask his forgiveness. 

I had gone about half the distance when I met an old woman who wasalmost bent double with old age and rheumatism. We recognised eachother in a minute. The old woman was Deborah Teague, the terror andyet the blessing of the whole neighbourhood. To her friends therecould be no greater comfort than Deborah. She was acquainted withmedicine that cured almost every disease save that of old age. Sheknew all the healing qualities of every herb that grew in theneighbourhood. Deborah was doctor and nurse to all the people roundabout. Fever, colds, ague, rheumatics, scarlatina, jaundice, bile;Deborah could cure them all, and a dozen diseases besides. But thiswas not all. What she could not cure by her medicine she could by hercharms, for with these she was abundantly supplied. Ringworms, warts, gout, adder's stings, whooping cough, measles, she could charm everyone of them, and what was more, no one who was a friend of Deborah'swent away uncured, if a cure were possible. 

Consequently she was much thought of when her helpful qualities weretaken into consideration, but, as I said, she was feared as well asloved, for Deborah made her enemies tremble. Not only did she possessthe power to heal, but also the power to curse. Her eye was like thatof the fabled serpent, called the basilisk, and in her anger she everstruck terror. She could stop horses from drawing, and keep cows fromyielding their milk. For her to "ill wish" anyone was a sure sign thatruin would befall them. Nor was this all. Everyone throughout thewhole countryside believed that Deborah had been seen walking along thebeach towards the haunted cove, and it was reported again and againthat she held intercourse with the powers of darkness. It was alsobelieved that other women, possessing similar power to hers, likewisemet there, and conversed about unlawful things. 

She also had the power of telling fortunes and reading the future, andthus nearly all the lads and girls in the district came to her at onetime or another for advice and help. 

I had always been taught to be careful not to offend Deborah Teague, for she had once nursed me through a serious illness, and looked on meas a favourite. 

No sooner had we come close together than she lifted her hand as if totell me to stop; then when I obeyed her gesture, she looked me straightin the eyes. 

"Cain and Abel, " she said, mysteriously. 

"No, Mrs. Teague, " I replied, catching her meaning, "nothing of thesort. "

"Yer brother es gone to his mawther, " she muttered. "I axed un whatwas the matter, and he said you'd took advantage and hurt un. "

I accordingly told Mrs. Teague what had taken place. 

No sooner had I spoken than she seized my hand, and with her bonyfingers began to draw the skin together over my joints, peeringcuriously all the while. 

"Maaster Roger'll av to be keerful, " she said. 

"What do you mean?" I said. 

"Maaster Roger'll av to be keerful, " she repeated, in a half wheedling, half chuckling voice. "Maaster Roger es the ouldest and the biggest, and the strongest; but Maaster Wilfred ev got the eyes to zee. "

"Oh, don't trouble, Mrs. Teague, " I said; "I'm going to Wilfred now, totell him I'm sorry I've hurt him. "

"And mark my words, Maaster Roger, " she said, "when you go, oal you zaywill be took no noatice ov, but yer mawther and Maaster Wilfred 'lllook black. "

"How do you know, Mrs. Teague?" I said. 

"Know!" she repeated, "what do'ant I know? Tell me that!"

I looked at her and was silent. 

"I'll tell ee, " she cried, and then stopped. "We musn't talk here, "she continued. "Will'ee come to th'oull Debrah's house to-night, Maaster Roger, and I'll tell ee something for yer good? No, notto-night; but to-morrow night at nine o'clock. "

I promised her I would do so, and Deborah hobbled away. As soon as shehad gone I went straight home with a heavy heart. Although I was afull-grown man I dreaded my mother's anger, and Deborah's words rang inmy ears. Besides, I feared that Wilfred might be prejudiced against meand not see things in their true light. 

No sooner had I entered the dining-hall than I saw my mother bathingWilfred's head, my father looking on gravely meanwhile. Even myfather's presence could not quell my mother's anger against me. 

"You the elder brother!" she cried. "You, the heir to the Trewinions!The name will be disgraced if you are master of the Manor. You, agreat strong monster, to punish a younger brother who is not fullgrown!"

I tried to explain, but she would not allow me to do so, while Wilfredlooked at me with that strange expression which always appeared on hisface when he was not well pleased. 

Shortly after, I went away with my father to whom I told my story. 

"Roger, " he said, when I had finished, "you must be very careful, mylad. You will be either a blessing or a curse to your family. Futuregenerations will either bless your memory or they will remember yourname with loathing. "

"Why, " I said, "does so much depend on me?"

"Everything depends on you, Roger. You are the first-born son, and ifyou turn out bad, everything will turn out bad. So, my boy, whateveryou are, or whatever you do, be truthful, be pure, and be forgiving. "

"God helping me, I will, father, " I replied. 

Some time after we all gathered together in the library, where weusually sat in the evening. My father made it a rule to send theservants to bed early when we had no company, so although it was onlyeight o'clock and scarcely dark he had taken down the old family Biblein order that we might hear the Scriptures and join in prayer beforeretiring. My mother sat by Wilfred, her hand locked in his, while Isat near to my father, as was the usual custom, and we waited for theservants to come to prayers. 

Instead of all coming together, only one came, and announced thatDeborah Teague had something to tell us. 

Father, in spite of all the complaints against Deborah, regarded herwith much favour, and told the servant to show her in. 

The old woman came in mumbling as usual. She waited for no greeting, and took no notice of my mother's harsh look. 

"Maaster Trewinion, " she said, lifting the forefinger of her skinnyright hand, "expect!"

She stood up nearly straight as she spoke, and I thought of the Jewessprophetess whose name she bore. 

"Expect!" she repeated. "Expect a stranger and expect a storm. "

"What do you mean, Deborah?" asked my father kindly. 

"Just that, " she replied. "I ha'ant a vollied the fortins of this eerous for nothin', and I say expect. "

"A stranger and a storm, " repeated my father. "The storm would benothing to wonder at, the weather is so changeable, but thestranger----"

"Es a woman, " said the old crone, "and a young woman. I cud tell--butI wa'ant. "

"Could tell what?"

"Clouds, and storms, and darkness!"

"Come, tell us. "

"No, Maaster Trewinion, I be'ant zackly sure, but this I zay, git yerbooats ready to help the perishin', and it may be as ow the strangerand the storm'll be together, like. "

The old woman went away at this, while father, always heedful of whatDeborah might tell him, asked me to order some men to get the strongestand best boats in readiness. 

As I went down to the village which lies in the hollow near our house, I remembered the curious looks that passed between my mother andWilfred while Deborah had been talking, and then I thought of mypromise to meet Deborah at nine o'clock the next night. I wonderedwhether I ought to do so or not, and as the night gathered around Ialmost shuddered at the thought of meeting her alone. Had she, I askedmyself, intercourse with evil spirits? Had she given herself to thedevil for knowledge and evil power, as it was reported she had done?

I reached the village at length and went in search of the men my fatherhad mentioned. There was a harbour near, and as at the time of which Iwrite a good number of people lived in the village, most of whommanaged to do a great deal of fishing throughout the year, a number ofboats had been built. 

After telling the men to make preparations for a storm, I was about togo back to the Manor House, when the question of Deborah Teague cameinto my mind again. What had she to tell me? And ought I to listen towhat she had to say?

I could not for a long time make up my mind. On the one hand was agreat curiosity as to what she had to tell me, besides an anxiety toplease the old woman; on the other I felt sure she gained her knowledgeby unlawful means. 

I decided at length. I would go to the vicar that very night. It wasnot late yet, only half-past eight, and daylight had barely gone. Surely the Rev. Thomas Polperrow would settle the matter for me. Ifher power were evil he could guard me against it; if it were good, thenall was well. 

It was a beautiful night. The moon was nearly full, although it wasencircled by a large misty ring, which betokened a change in theweather; but the sea was calm and bright, and shone like glass. Allalong the coast I could see the misty outlines of the cliffs, whilehere and there a giant rock jutted into the water. 

What was that? A wail!

Was it the night cry of a sea bird telling of the foretold storm? Orwas it----stop!

A figure all in white stood near me!

I could not move. I was riveted to the place. Surely it was avisitant from the spirit land!

Slowly it moved away. It went to the edge of the cliffs anddisappeared from my sight. 

I was not so much surprised at this, for there was more than one spotalong the coast where those acquainted with the place could disappearas if by magic. Still, my nerves were shaken. Perhaps some evil wasportended. I would rather have returned home, but I felt drawn to goto the vicar. He could explain. He could tell me what I wanted toknow. 

Does anything happen in one's life without a meaning? Is the GreatSpirit of God in every event, ever trying to warn us from evil and drawus towards good? If so, these things of which I am now writing must bein some way connected with the after events of my life. But I shallnot try to connect them now. All I purpose to do is to write just whathappened, so that my children and my children's children may learnlessons from my history. 

I hurried on to the vicarage, therefore, and was soon admitted to thestudy, I anxious to ask Mr. Polperrow's advice, he evidently wonderingwhat I had to say to him. 

CHAPTER III

THE MARCH OF EVENTS

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. "--_Ex. _ xxii. 18. 

"Then said Saul unto his servants, Seek me a woman that hath a familiarspirit, that I may go to her and inquire of her. And his servants saidunto him, Behold there is a woman with a familiar spirit at Endor. "--1_Sam. _ xxviii. 7. 

"Well, Roger, and what do you wish to see me about?" asked Mr. Polperrow as soon as we were comfortably seated. 

"I am somewhat in a dilemma, " I replied. "The truth is, I want to dosomething which I am not sure is right, and so I have come to you aboutit. "

"You have done right, Roger. I hope you will always be as mindful ofyour old friend. But what's the matter?"

"Do you think there are any witches living to-day?"

"Witches! Witches, why certainly, my boy; and yet I don't knowexactly----"

And the vicar broke off abruptly, as though he were exceedinglydoubtful about the matter. 

"What do you mean, Mr. Polperrow?"

"I mean this, Roger. There are a great many women who have beencondemned as witches when they have simply had the gift of secondsight. During the reign of the Stuarts, hundreds were put to death aswitches and wizards, and yet I am not sure, but they were innocentpeople. Don't mistake me, my boy; I'm not going against theScriptures. I know that witches get their power from the devil--thatis, real witches; but I verily believe that a lot of women who sufferedin the time of James I were good women, who, through their goodness, obtained knowledge unknown to the generality of people. "

"And ghosts, what about them?"

"Roger, I would rather not talk about them now. " The vicar's voice waslow and husky. 

I thereupon told him about my encounter with Deborah Teague and whatshe had said, after which I asked him if I should go and see her. 

Mr. Polperrow was some time before he answered. "I am not sure, " hesaid, at length, "that old Deborah deserves all that has been saidabout her. She is a sensible old dame, and has searched out thehealing qualities of many of the plants growing around, and thus hasgained her reputation as a doctor; besides this, she has a curious wayof making the silly folk here do as she tells them; but beyond this Ibelieve a great deal of the talk is so much nonsense. "

"Then you think it would be no harm going to see her?"

"Roger, my boy, " said the vicar, "the world in which we live is full ofmystery, full of shadows. We cannot understand the occult forces thateverywhere exist, we cannot read the mystic writing which is everywhereappearing on the lives of men. Before I went to college I was a firmbeliever in many things which I have since discredited. Once Ibelieved in supernatural events, but since I have seen what can beproduced by purely natural and explainable means, I have begun todoubt, and yet I cannot deny some things which the most superstitiousand ignorant believe. "

"Then what would you advise?"

"I would go and see this old woman; perhaps she knows things, not byany supernatural means, but by keeping her eyes open. "

"But if she should possess evil power, Mr. Polperrow?"

"Read your Bible and say your prayers before you go, and in your heartdefy all that's wrong. "

I went away from the vicarage with a strange feeling that my life wassurrounded by mystery, and that unseen forces were hemming me in. 

What are we, after all, but the creatures of circumstance? Forces overwhich we have no control make us what we are. I was born the elder sonand Wilfred the younger. I was born with a strong, healthy body, andan impulsive, passionate nature. Wilfred was more delicate, morethoughtful. What had we to do with the choosing of all this? Could Ihelp doing the things that I did? Could I resist the life-forces whichmoved me, even as a mighty wave moves a ship that sails thereupon? Arewe, then, the architects of our own fate, or is our destiny fixed? Isit man who moulds the circumstances, or circumstances that mould theman? Who shall answer these questions? Looking back over my life Icannot, and yet in some way I am conscious that there has been abeneficent hand helping me, and making me strong, even stronger thancircumstances. 

As I went home I thought the moon became dimmer, while sad, moaningsounds were mixed with the musical splash of the waters, as they playedupon the hard sea sand. I slept well that night. No thought of thefigure in white haunted my pillow, no thought of my visit to thevillage witch hindered my sleep. I was young, I was innocent, my bloodcoursed joyfully through my veins, and the future looked bright, and soI feared not. 

The next day the sky was overcast. The sea looked smooth as glass, save that now and then it gave a mighty heave, as if some terrificmonster beneath sought to lift a weight from his tired shoulders. Sometimes we heard a moan sweeping across the waters; but we werefamiliar with the sound, living as we did close to the broad Atlantic. 

As evening came on the sky grew darker, while my mind became full ofthe visit I was to make to old Deborah Teague. I made only a lightmeal, and as soon as I was able to do so, went alone to her cottage. 

It was a little tumble-down shanty, standing beneath a hillock, and wasas lonely a place as it was possible to be. Eighteen years of agethough I was, my heart beat faster as I thought of Deborah living alonein a house that had the reputation of being haunted. What was I doing?In spite of what the vicar had said, was it not wrong for me to holdconverse with the strange old woman?

But I would not go back; and so making straight for the little window, through which I could see a candle dimly burning, I was soon face toface with her. 

"Maaster Roger was 'fraid, " said the old woman, half questioningly, half wheedlingly. 

"No, " I said, "I don't think so. "

"The Trewinions was never 'fraid ov th' livin', my deer, " said the oldwoman, "but the dead, ah, the dead. "

"They can do me no harm, so why should I be afraid?"

"Ah, why! ah! ha!" she giggled. "But Maaster Roger es weth wawn thatcan do lots ov things. "

"Oh, yes, lots, Deborah, " I said; "you can cure more diseases than anydoctor in Truro. "

"And more than that, Maaster Roger; but don't you be 'fraid, my deer, Iwa'ant hurt you. "

"No, I don't think you will; but why have you brought me here to-night?"

"Because I want to tell ee summin, my deer. Ah, Maaster Roger, testerrible fur theer to be favourites in a house. "

I was silent. 

"They say how maaster is maaster; tedn't allays so, my deer. Missus esmaaster sometimes. They say I'm a witch, my deer, do'ant um? I readthe Bible, Maaster Roger. Iss, an ould woman like me, and theer I'veseed that Isaac loved Esau best, and 'Becca, she loved Jacob best. Well, who got off best, my deer, hi? Iss, my deer, and they was twins, they both had wawn mawther. "

"What do you mean?"

"I main that Maaster Roger'll have to be keerful, my deer. Ah, theer'sjillusy in curious plaaces. "

"I don't at all understand what you mean. "

"No, but you will, my deer. Do'ee mind what I zed to 'ee 'esterdayarternoon, dedn't I tell 'ee as 'ow you'd git nothin' but black looksfor all yer explainin'?"

"Yes, I remember. "

"Well, ded 'ee un. Was ould Debrah right or wrong?"

"You were right, Deborah; but then, I was in the wrong. I should nothave hurt him so. "

The old woman chuckled as I spoke, as though I were trying to hoax her. 

"And ef you wadn't in the wrong, they'd make ee in the wrong between'em. "

"Deborah, " I said, "you must be in the wrong. You talk as though mymother were my enemy. "

"Mawther!" she repeated, "who zed she was yer mawther?"

For a minute I did not know what to say. Was she not my mother? Ofcourse she was. I had ever been taught to call her mother, and myfather had ever called her his wife. 

"Do you know what you are talking about?" I said, excitedly. 

"Knaw!" she repeated. "Knaw! Iss, and I cud tell 'ee lots ov things, Maaster Roger, my deer. "

"But what do you mean by hinting that my mother--that is--that--thatshe isn't my mother at all?"

"Why es it that she've bin allays agin 'ee, hi? Why have she allaystried to shaw that you was in the wrong and yer brother in the right?Why es it that your eyes es black and yer hair brown and curly, whileyer brother and sisters ev got blue eyes and yella hair, tell me that, will 'ee, my deer?"

This had never struck me before; certainly there was no likenessbetween my brothers and sisters and myself. 

"B--but, " I stammered. 

"No buts, my deer, I be'ant goin' to tell 'ee nothin' more, though ouldDebrah do knaw lots ov things. There's no time, now, you've got otherthings to do, and a terrible lot to go through as soon as you git away. Hark, do 'ee 'ear that?"

It was the sound of the breakers upon the rugged rocks and hard seasand, while the wind blew and moaned dismally. 

"Dedn't ould Debrah tell 'ee ov a storm? Well, tes come, and, Roger, yer dark days es comin' on. "

"But what did you mean by telling me to come here to hear what I have?I am sure of nothing. "

"Main! I main this. Maaster Roger'll have to bee keerful of the womanhe do call mawther. Watch her every day and watch Maaster Wilfred, too. Hark, do 'ee 'ear that?"

I heard nothing but the roar of the rising storm. 

"I can hear nothing but the wind, " I said. 

"But I can, I can, " she said. "I can hear the screech ov thesufferin'; oa tes wisht, terrible wisht, Maaster Roger, but tes yerfate, my deer. I'll tell 'ee more another time, but you must go now, go and help em, you father wants 'ee go, and be keerful of they I'vetould 'ee about. "

She pushed me out as I spoke, all the time looking around as though shesaw sights unseen by me. 

"You'll want oal yer strength and oal yer courage, my deer, oa testerrible. May Roger be protected; but oa, if 'ee saves her 'ee 'llhave to suffer. "

Wondering at her words, I rushed out into the wild night, and hadscarcely done so before I saw a dark form rise from under the window inthe cottage, and hurry away right in the teeth of the wind. I startedand followed, but whoever he might be, he was more fleet than I. Thenight was dark because of the storm, but the figure looked like that ofmy brother Wilfred. 

Full of conflicting thoughts, I hurried home, where I found my fatherdressed as if to go out. 

"What's the matter, father?" I asked. 

"There's a vessel round the point, Roger, and she's signalled for help. "

"Let me go with you. Is it a large one?"

"No, and I am afraid that my friend's child is in her. "

"What child?"

"Did you see that horseman this morning, Roger?"

"Yes, father. "

"He came to tell me that an old friend was dead, and that in his lasthours he had expressed a wish that I should take care of his child. "

"Yes, father; what then?"

"She started to come here by boat, and should have arrived in ourlittle landing-place by this. Hark! that's another signal for help. Come, Roger; where's Wilfred. "

"Wilfred cannot help on such a night as this, especially as his brotherhurt him so yesterday, " said my mother, who had just come into the room. 

"Come, let us go alone, then, Roger, " said my father. 

We hurried down to the little harbour, where a dozen hardy Cornishmenwere preparing to launch a boat on the angry sea. 

"Not gone yet, men?" said my father. 

"No, Maaster Trewinion, and ted'n no good. We should be knocked topieces in two minutes, " said one. 

"But we're goin' to have a try, " said another. 

It was, indeed, a dangerous undertaking. The seas were now rising uplike great hills and again falling into deep valleys. It seemedimpossible for a boat to live. 

"We ca'ant do no good, " said the first speaker. 

"But they've signalled for help, " said the second, "and I ca'ant standthat!"

As he spoke we heard a sound like a crack of a musket, which faintlyreached us above the roar of wind and wave. 

"We'll man the biggest boat somehow, " said my father. "Come here, everyone; who will go with Roger and me?"

To the honour of the brave Cornish boys, a crew was ready in a minute. 

We jumped into the boat and soon were out in the boiling surf. 

"Hold your oars firmly, " cried my father, "now, then, pull while youmay, the storm is rising every minute. "

Bravely those noble lads strained and tugged; but it was terrible work. We were tossed about as though the boat in which we sat were a chip ora bit of cork. 

For a minute no word was spoken. Every man breathed hard, and labouredwith all his strength, while my father watched, grasping the rudder inhis hand. Time after time I thought we should have been thrown intothe sea, but luckily we caught no side winds. 

Presently we heard my father's deep voice:

"I see her, " he cried. "My God, she's going straight upon the 'Devil'sTooth. '"

The "Devil's Tooth" was one of the most dangerous rocks on the coast. It was called "devil's tooth" because it was thought to possess evilpower, and because it had been the means of wrecking many vessels asthey tried to get into our harbour. 

He had scarcely spoken when we heard a most awful crash. It was farlouder than the roar of the storm, and immediately afterwards wefancied we caught the cry of people in distress. 

"There, it's on! Pull!" cried my father, "we may reach them yet. Godhelp and preserve us all. "

Every man pulled with all his might towards the great rock with theterrible name. 

"The great God will help us, " said one solemnly. 

"Amen, " cried the rest; "but this is terrible. "

Meanwhile, inch by inch, we drew nearer to the doomed vessel. 

CHAPTER IV

THE WRECK ON THE "DEVIL'S TOOTH. "

At the best of times the rock called the "Devil's Tooth" was by nomeans beautiful. It stood with five points towering into the air likethe prongs of a great tooth, and at its feet were scores of smallerrocks, mostly hidden by the water. 

Strange stories have been told about it. Some have said that on stormynights emissaries of Satan sit there, and lure vessels on todestruction; but at the time I had no thought for such stories. Theterrible crash of the vessel was still echoing in my ears, and, in myfancy, I heard above the howling of the storm the shrieks of theperishing. 

We could not see much. The moon was full, but had been hidden by theclouds. Only by the light of the storm, which was nearly darkness, could we perceive anything. I know that my words are almostparadoxical, but I can express my meaning in no better way. Still, oureyes were accustomed to the darkness of a storm, and thus both myfather and I had some idea of what we were doing. 

Slowly we made our way. Carefully my father sought to evadeunnecessary danger. 

It was terrible work. Now we were lifted on the pinnacle of a wave, and again we sank deep in dark gulfs, until I thought we should neverrise again. But every man was strong and hardy, every man had braved adozen storms, and so we struggled on. 

But for my father's thorough knowledge of the coast we must haveperished. With his knowledge there was hope. Suddenly we foundourselves in comparatively smooth water and out of the beat of thewind. We had shot into the "lew" (sheltered) side of the rock, andwere able for a moment to rest. 

"She is just around the point, " said my father. 

"Iss, Maaster Trewinion, " was the reply. 

"The question is, How can we get to them?" said my father. "If we tryto get our boat around there it means death for all of us. The onlymeans of saving the poor souls, if they are not all gone already, isfor us to scale the rock here and make our way to those on board. Thenthey might be brought here one by one. "

"You see'd her break on the rock didn' 'ee, Maaster Trewinion?" saidone. 

"Yes, " replied my father, "she broke close against the long prong. "

"Then ef she edn't gone to pieces there may be hope, " replied the man;"but who can climb up here?"

"Two will be enough, " said my father; "who'll go first?"

"Let me, " said I. 

"Not yet, Roger, " said my father. 

Two others immediately volunteered, and started to climb, but the rockwas slippery, and there was only one way by which the top could bereached. 

They failed in their attempt. 

"Tie a rope round my waist, father, " I cried. "I've climbed it manytimes and know the way. "

"Go, then, Roger, my boy, and may God preserve you. "

It was only because of my boyish freaks that I knew the easiest way toreach the summit of the rock. One day I had laid a wager with Wilfredthat I could climb to its summit, and so I had carefully examined itwhen the tide was low, and after once climbing it, I had often gonethither to hunt for the nests of sea-birds. 

All my knowledge was necessary now. The stones were slippery as glass, and I had to feel carefully for the jutting rocks in order to get fromone point to another. A false step, a bit of crumbling rock, a slip ofthe hand would have destroyed our hopes, and perhaps have maimed me forlife, if not killed me. Providence, however, was in my favour. Aftermany a strain and many a struggle I reached the top. 

I shall never forget the sight that met me. Even in the hour of deathI think I shall remember the terrible scene. Holding fast by a ruggedpeak I could in the stormlight dimly see the five huge prongs of the"Devil's Tooth, " grim and ghastly; while upon them broke the greatblack waves!

How the breakers roared! How the wind howled as it beat upon the greatrock on which I stood! Whenever the waves receded I could see thewhite foam all round, while the spray beat pitilessly upon me. I hadnever seen the like before. It is an awful thing to watch a storm fromthe shore; but to stand in the midst of it, to hear it all round you, is more awful!

I heard a shout from beneath. "Do you see the wreck?" was the query. 

I looked in the direction of the long prong and saw the outline of thevessel. 

"Yes, " I replied, "but I shall want help to get to her. There! I'vefastened the rope to a rock, let Bill Tregargus come up. "

Instantly, by the tugging of the rope, I knew that some one was coming, and a little later the giant form of Bill Tregargus was beside me. 

We made our way to the wreck, and as we drew nearer I was sure I sawpeople clinging to the half broken mast. Nearer and nearer we came, and then, to our joy, we saw that two men had got from the vessel andwere now trying to scale the rock. 

"There's hope yet, Bill, " I said. "Have you brought the rope with you?"

"Part on't, Maaster Roger, and part I tied to the rock. "

I shouted as loud as I could, but I was unable to make them hear. Thethunder of the storm made my little shout of no avail. I called to thepeople on the vessel, but there was no response. 

Meanwhile the waves swept over the doomed vessel, and roared along thecruel rocks. There seemed but little chance of our rendering help. Even we, sheltered as we were by the great prongs of the rock, found itdifficult to stand. 

I took the rope from Bill, and, holding one end in my hand, I threw itstraight to the men, who I could see were struggling below. The effortsucceeded. It was immediately caught, and soon we got a man on the topof the rock. 

"Many on board?" I asked. 

"Twelve, " he gasped. 

"Can you make the other one tell the crew to do as you have done?"

We looked again, seeking for the best method to signal, and to ourdelight saw that those on the vessel realised that help was come. Inthe dim light I could see that they were leaving the vessel. 

It was only a question of time. One by one, we pulled them up, somebruised and beaten, but still hopeful, others gasping for life, andothers again dazed and faint. 

We asked no questions; it was our work to save them first and questionthem afterwards; and so, one after another, man by man, they reachedthe summit of the rock. 

At length we came to the last man. He was getting old and stiff. Evenin the night I could see that he was bent and weak. 

"Are you all here?" I asked, when he had reached the top. 

The old man who had last come up looked around him, and then cried out:

"But where is Miss Ruth?"

"Miss Ruth?" gasped two or three; "is she not here?"

"No woman has come up, " I replied. 

"Then Miss Ruth is still on the vessel, " cried the old man. "Wretch, wretch, that I am to leave her. "

"But she left the vessel, " replied another; "why, Tom Poltewan said hewas going to help her down. "

"She said she must get something from the cabin, " said another, "and Ididn't see her. I thought Mr. Inch would be sure to take care of her. "

Then followed a confusion of tongues, and in the storm I did notdistinguish what was said. Evidently in the great anxiety to escapedeath a woman had been overlooked. But she must be rescued. The workwhich had been begun must be completed. Surely God who had helped usthus far would not desert us now?

What was to be done, however, had to be done quickly. The vessel hadstruck on a great rock, the billows were sweeping over her, and shemight go to pieces any minute. The storm, although it had not yetreached its full height, was rapidly rising, the wind blew louder andlouder, until we could scarcely hear each other speak. The men we hadsaved were battered and bruised and nearly unconscious. As I think ofit now it is a wonder to me that they escaped death. 

I tied the rope round my waist, and then asked Bill to lower me down bythe slippery rock. At first he objected to this, but I insisted, andsoon stood upon a broad flat ledge which was close to the wreck. 

My object now was to get upon the vessel, but that was not easy ofaccomplishment; the great breakers were constantly sweeping over thevessel, and I began to despair of rendering assistance. I determinedto try, however, and after many vain attempts, reached the deck. Tolook for anyone there was madness. No woman could stay in such aplace. Either she had been swept away or she must be down below. Inspite of storm and darkness I found my way there. The vessel was halffull of water, and I felt that it would be worse than useless toattempt to find anyone in the darkness. Just then I heard a cry forhelp. 

I cannot describe what followed. I have a dim recollection of graspinga cold hand, of struggling to the deck, of holding fast by the brokenmast, and of a terrible wave that swept me quite away. After that allwas oblivion. 

When I woke to consciousness I was in my own bed, with my father andDeborah Teague sitting near me. At first everything seemed hazy, thenthings became more real, until all the events of the storm flashedbefore my mind. 

"How did I come here?" I asked. 

"God helped us to save you, Roger, my boy, " said my father. 

"How?" I asked, faintly. 

"I got impatient of your being away so long, and so one of the otherlads succeeded in getting on the rock, while I, wanting to be near you, followed him. I got to the long prong in time to see you swept off thedeck. "

"And then, father?"

"Then I went down to the broad ledge and found you both unconscious. You had been stunned by the awful force with which you were hurled onthe rock. "

"And she, father, the--the--one who was with me?"

"We got you both in the boat after awhile. God only knows thedifficulty we had, for the storm rose every minute. Had the rock beenfurther out at sea I don't think we could have weathered it; but thegridiron point broke the force of the wind just a little!"

"And is she well, father?"

"A great deal bruised, my boy, and very weak, but she'll recover. "

"Who is she?" I asked after being silent for a few moments. 

"Her name is Ruth Morton; she is my old friend's only child, " answeredmy father, slowly. 

I turned on my pillow wearily. I was tired and sore, and wanted rest. 

"That's right, " said my father, "go to sleep again, I'll send thedoctor to you, and he, together with Mrs. Teague, will soon make youwell. "

He left the room as he spoke. Deborah looked keenly at me. 

"You'll soon git well, Maaster Roger, " she said presently. 

"I think I shall, " I replied, "I am far from dead yet. "

"Iss, iss, " she repeated, "you'll soon git well, Maaster Roger, but oldDeborah was right. The storm and the stranger comed together, ded'num?"

I did not answer. 

"Maaster Roger must be of good heart, " she continued, "for he ain't aseed the end of this ere matter yet. "

I asked her to explain herself, but she would not. She sat silently bymy bedside until the doctor came and gave me a sleeping draught, afterwhich I remembered nothing for a long while. 

I lay in my bed for more than a week. During that time my mother cameto see me twice, while Wilfred came only once. Evidently they did notcare much about my recovery. I was grieved at this, for in my heart Iloved them sincerely. My father told me, however, that Ruth Morton wasrecovering, and was anxiously looking forward to the time when shewould be able to see me, and thank me for what I had done. In spite ofthis, however, I did not ask many questions about her, and when, aftersome days, I was pronounced well enough to see her, I cannot say Ilooked forward with any pleasure to our meeting. Perhaps the reasonfor this was that I hated to be thanked, or perhaps it was that I didnot like talking to girls, but be that as it may I was in no happyframe of mind when my father led me to the room where she sat. Iremember that my blood rushed to my face as for the first time I sawthe one I had probably saved from death. 

Perhaps my sadness foreboded the dark days that came afterwards. 

CHAPTER V

THE SHAPING OF EVENTS

 The brave man is not he who feels no fear; For that were stupid and irrational; But he whose noble soul its fear subdues And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from. --_Joanna Baillie. _

Ruth Morton was fourteen years of age, but looked far younger. To meshe appeared only a child of twelve. She was diminutive in stature, and had an innocent childish face. I did not think her beautiful, andyet I remember that her face was pleasing. I remember, too, that hermouth looked very sensitive, and was indicative of a gentle nature; butwhat struck me most were her eyes. They were large and grey, andseemed to contain a world of meaning. Her hair was dark brown and fellin heavy masses on her shoulders. 

She looked at me curiously, as if striving to read my character, andwhen my father mentioned my name she timidly held out her little hand. 

"You must be friends, " said he; "indeed, you must be brother andsister, and I shall look to you, Roger, to take care of her. "

I scarcely know now what I answered, but I daresay it was little to thepoint. During the next few minutes I was very uncomfortable, for shetried to thank me for saving her life. 

As soon as I could I led her to talk of other matters, chiefly becauseI knew not what to say or how to act. 

By and by she spoke of her father's death, and what she felt when shewas informed she must leave her home and come to Trewinion Manor. Shetold me, also, of her desire to come by boat, and how Mr. Inch, an oldtrusted servant, had arranged to get a crew together, and how they hadsailed along in sight of the giant cliffs. 

She had a sweet, childish voice, and talked in a way that was quitefascinating. By and by, as she told how the storm came on suddenly, ofthe dread feelings she had as she saw the waves rise higher and higher, and how she lost hope when the little vessel with an awful crash wasswept upon the great rock, I could fancy myself again out on the angrysea. 

In a little while my father left us, and then I wished I were againback in my room, for I knew not how to talk. She, too, seemed ill atease. 

"I'm sorry you and your brother are not better friends, " she said, after we had been silent a few seconds. 

I was surprised at this, and wondered who could have have been talkingto her. 

"Have you seen Wilfred?" I asked. 

"Oh, yes, I have seen him twice. He came yesterday, and again to-day. Your mother was here, too. "

"I am glad they have been to see you, " I replied, "but I did not knowthat Wilfred and I were not friendly. "

She looked at me, I thought, suspiciously, as though she doubted mywords, but did not speak. 

Had my mother and Wilfred, I wondered, been saying evil things aboutme. I hoped not, and yet it might be. Certainly, their conducttowards me had been strange. I would not talk of this, however, and soasked her if she liked my sisters. 

"Very much, " she replied. "They have been with me every day; and thefirst two days when I was ill they were with me nearly all the time. Ithink, I see them coming now. "

As she spoke Katherine and Elizabeth entered the room. They werebright, buxom maidens, well-grown and healthy. The latter, though twoyears younger was quite as well grown as the stranger who had come tolive amongst us. Yet there was a difference. Ruth Morton possessed adignity and a grace which were foreign to both my sisters. Childrenthey all were, pretty they all were, yet the beauty of Ruth Morton wasof a different nature. She had been cast in another mould, and thuspresented a contrast to my sisters. 

I was a great favourite both with Katherine and Elizabeth; but I didnot stay with them. Stiff and weak as I was I found my way back to myroom, where, throwing myself on the bed, I tried to rest. 

I knew nothing whatever of the arrangements that had been made aboutRuth staying with us, except that Mr. Inch, the old servant, was toremain, that the crew had been sent back to Penwingle, and that thesteward was taking care of the Morton estate. I took no interest inthe matter, however. From all I could gather her mind had beenprejudiced against me, and there was a look of satisfaction on her facewhen I left her. She was as transparent as the day, so I had nodifficulty in seeing that in spite of my having risked my life to saveher, she had a bad opinion of me. Well, it did not matter much; in afew years she would be of age and would return then to her old home. 

I had banished all unpleasant thoughts from my mind when the dooropened and Wilfred entered. 

"Well, Roger, " he said, "getting better?"

"First rate, Wilfred, " I replied. 

"Lucky, as usual, " he said. 

"How?"

"Why, in the first instance, you were privileged to save Ruth Morton'slife, and secondly, you are the hero of the neighbourhood for milesaround. The talk of the whole countryside is the bravery and daring ofRoger Trewinion. "

This was said bitterly I thought, but I was not sure. Wilfred hadsometimes a way of talking which entirely hid his real feelings andmeaning. 

"I don't know, " he went on, "if the parson isn't going to preach aspecial sermon next Sunday, when his subject will be 'Roger Trewinion'sBravery and the Mercy of Providence. '"

He spoke mockingly, and I began to think that something had displeasedhim. I was not sure of this however, so merely said that I hopednothing of the sort would be done. 

"Oh, but I hope it will, " he said. "Why, the people are saying thatyou jumped from the top of the highest prong of the 'Devil's Tooth' onto the wreck, that you waded through water several feet deep, and thatjust when you had carried little Ruth on the deck the vessel broke inpieces, upon which you plunged into the sea and carried her ashore. Ihad no idea I had such a brother. "

He laughed jeeringly. 

His manner of speaking made me feel that if Wilfred had ever possessedany love for me it was becoming embittered. 

"Have you seen Ruth?" he went on. 

"Yes, I saw her to-day. "

"Father introduced you to her, I suppose?"

"Yes. "

"And no doubt she was exceedingly anxious to glorify the hero who savedher. "

"No, I don't think she was, but I did not stay long with her. I fancyshe doesn't like me. "

"No?" he said, questioningly. "I wonder at that, for she seems to likeme a great deal; indeed, we are great friends. "

"I am glad to hear it, " I replied, "for somehow I can't be friendlywith strange girls. "

"No, " he said, "I don't think you are cut out for a girl's friend, andyou are not the kind of fellow a girl would like. "

There is something in every man's heart which causes him to feel hurtwhen he hears another say something about him that he would have nohesitation in saying about himself. I had said many times that I wasnot a lad whom girls liked, and yet when Wilfred said it I was annoyed. 

"After all, it's right, " he went on. "It is not fair that you shouldhave everything and I, nothing. You have the Trewinion name, itshouses, its lands, and its blessings, while I have nothing but mybrains, and people's love. "

"There are curses in connexion with Trewinion's heir as well asblessings, " I said. "I am fettered on every hand. "

"Curses, " he sneered; "all old wives' tales. I wonder at you thinkingabout them. Were I the eldest son I would throw all that to the wind, I would see the world; I would enjoy myself, and spend some of thehoarded gold of generations. "

He looked at me closely as he said this, and I began to feel thatperhaps the old stories were foolishness. All my father had told meseemed real in the night time, but in daylight it was shadowy andunreal. 

"Do you know about these stories?" I said. 

"Yes. "

"How?"

He looked a little confused, and then said, hurriedly:

"Oh, I have read the history of our house, and have hunted up thefamily documents. You see, while you have been climbing the 'Devil'sTooth' I have been grinding away at the story of the devil's curses. But, bah, Roger, what are curses to you? Surely, you can laugh at themall. "

Throughout the conversation I felt that he had some purpose in histalk. It seemed as though he were sifting me and seeking to read mythoughts, and so I was silent. 

"Do you know anything about little Ruth's family?" he went on. 

"No, " I replied. 

"Her father owned miles of land, " he said, "and it is all left to her. Your estate, Roger, is but a patch on hers. Morton Hall, too, is abouttwice as big as this house. Eh, but you were lucky to save her life. "

Looking back after a long lapse of years I feel that this is not thenatural talk of a boy of sixteen, and as I write, I ask myself whetherI have not incorrectly recorded our conversation. It is true I onlywrite from memory; nevertheless, I think I have faithfully describedwhat was said. Really, Wilfred was never a true boy. He was alwaysolder than I, though born two years later, and when quite a child hehad an old-fashioned way of speaking. The villagers were in the habitof saying that Wilfred had the brains of the family, while I had theheart. Anyhow, he could always outwit me, and if ever we were matchedagainst each other, I, in the long run, always came off second best. 

A few days later I was able to be out again, and once more lived myold, free, untrammelled life. My father and I still continued friendsand companions; but Wilfred was little with me. I noticed, however, that he was always anxious to please me. He ceased to sneer whenspeaking of me, and I thought he looked sad and downhearted. This mademe gentle and forbearing towards him; so much so, that I often went outof my way to help him. 

I often thought of old Deborah Teague's words as to whether he were orwere not my brother; but I could find no answer to my questionings. That we both had the same father I did not doubt; but was his mother mymother? Was that tall, stately woman who always treated me so coldlyreally and truly my mother? I asked old Deborah again and again, butmy father I dared not ask. 

My mother's demeanour to me was always the same. I never had amother's cares, never realised a mother's love, and so I could do noother than to watch, even as old Deborah told me to watch. 

Ruth Morton and I did not become friendly. Evidently she did not likeme. I noticed that she looked at me furtively, and would never bealone with me by choice. I could not help feeling that in some way hermind had been poisoned concerning me, and I was not long in decidingwho was the poisoner. 

It is true that I did not try to win her liking. 

I felt it rather hard that she should treat me so harshly, and so Inever forced my company upon her. 

This state of things existed for nearly two years. Wilfred wasfriendly, and, evidently, beloved by her, but I was disliked. Often mybrother took her and my sisters for long walks, but I never did. I wasbusy on my father's estate and learning the secrets of agriculture, while he in the hours not devoted to study would be away with them, andbecame, I thought, more than ever a favourite with Ruth and my sisters. 

During these two years I had become quite a man in stature, whileWilfred had likewise grown to be a tall, handsome fellow. I rememberthat all this time my mother encouraged the growing friendship of Ruthand Wilfred, and seemed delighted when she noticed her evident dislikefor me. 

I was now twenty. Wilfred was more than eighteen, Ruth was sixteen, and had grown quite a young woman. Katherine, too, who was the sameage, had become a splendid example of a healthy, happy, country girl, while Elizabeth promised to become the beauty of the family. 

At this time an event happened which made us better friends. 

One afternoon I was sitting on the great headland overlooking the sea. It was a glorious day. The sky was clear, the sun was shiningbrightly, and the bright waves beneath were laughing and playing in thelight of the sun. To me, as I sat there, the great sea was singing awondrous song, full of a rich, rare music, which touched the deepestfeelings of my nature. I had not heard much in my life about religion, and I am afraid I had not thought much about God, but as I sat therethat day, a great rock above me and hundreds of feet of cliff beneath, while the sea chanted a song which the tones of a thousand organs couldnot reproduce, I felt a longing in my heart to serve my Maker and to domy duty while here below such as I had never felt before. 

While I sat there I heard voices above me. Someone was standing on thegreat rock in a crevice of which I sat. 

"Let's ask Roger to go with us?" said a voice. 

I recognised it in a second as my sister Katherine's and I waited forthe answer. 

"No, " I heard Wilfred say, "he hates girls; besides, he'll be as uglyas a bear with a sore head. "

"That's not fair, Wilfred, " said Katherine. "Roger does not hate us, and as for his being ugly, you know he's not. "

"Well, we can't find him, anyhow, " said Wilfred, "so let us go. "

I must confess I felt angered by this, for I should have liked toaccompany them. I strove to banish my brother's unkind words from mymind, however, and again tried to listen to the music of the sea; butit was all driven from my heart. For I have learnt this is truth: wemust have music within us if we are to realise music in anythingwithout. 

I could not sit there long. My brother's words began to burn andsting; I would go for a walk, too. 

I had not gone far when I saw someone running towards me. It wasWilfred. 

"Help, Roger!" he shouted. 

"What's the matter?" I said. 

"Ruth has fallen down the cliff!"

"Fallen down the cliff! where?"

"Up here. Come with me. "

We started running together and quickly came to a place where Elizabethwas weeping bitterly, while Katherine was descending the steepdeclivity as if to try and render help. 

"Where is she?" I said excitedly. "And how did she get where she is?"

"She wanted a plant, " cried Wilfred. "I told her it was not to beobtained, or I would get it; but she would not listen to me, and saidshe would fetch it herself. She went down a little way all right, butwhen she reached out her hand for the plant she slipped and fell. "

"Fell! Fell where?" I asked, excitedly. 

"To a ledge a few feet below. "

"Did you see her?"

"Yes. "

"And did you not try to reach her?"

"Why, how could I do anything? I could only go for help. "

It is true Wilfred was younger than I, but I thought this conductcowardly. He seemed to fear for himself, and dared not risk his ownlimbs. Katherine, on the other hand, though but a girl of sixteen, wastrying to rescue her friend. 

I quickly scrambled down the declivity, and was not long in reachingthe point from which Ruth fell. Katherine was here also, but she couldgo no farther, for the ledge beneath, although only about eight or ninefeet down, was narrow, and to fall from there meant certain death. Themystery was how Ruth had fallen on to this ledge, and for a time I wasafraid she had been precipitated on the rugged rocks beneath. I hearda moan, however, and saw a bit of her white dress, so my mind wascomparatively at ease. 

I sent Katherine back, and told her to run for a rope, as it might benecessary, and then prepared to reach the narrow rock on which Ruth lay. 

"Keep a good heart, Ruth, " I said; "I am coming to help you. "

There was no reply, but I still struggled to get to her. Time aftertime I essayed to reach her, and time after time I failed. I climbedaround and around, and from different points tried to get a footing onthe rock where she lay, but in vain. It was isolated, and was at leastnine feet from any point above it, and nearly as many from any standingplace on the same level. 

There was only one way by which she could be reached, and that was bygaining a rock nearly on the same level, and then leaping over thechasm that lay between. This I determined to do, for how could I doless? Ruth was lying like one dead, and if I did not help her whocould? I got on the point after some difficulty, and then found that Iwas in nearly as much danger as she. I had jumped down to this juttingrock, but I could not jump up again; the distance was too great. CouldI get on the rock where she lay there seemed a possibility to get down, for the cliff looked slanting from that point. 

Beneath me were two hundred feet of rugged cliff, and if I failed toreach Ruth I should fall from point to point on the rocks beneath andbe killed. 

I took off my coat and prepared to leap. 

At this moment she awoke to consciousness and looked around her, andseeing her position she gave a scream of affright. 

"Don't move, " I said, "I'm going to save you. "

Her eager eyes gave me strength and courage. I disencumbered myself ofeverything that would hinder me and placed my feet in the best positionfor a leap. 

By this time I began to be excited. The sound of the sea seemed cruel, while the rocks looked like so many giant gaunt spectres that wouldlure me to destruction. There was no time for wild fancyings, however, so I nerved myself for what lay before me. 

Then I took the leap. 

CHAPTER VI

LINK TO LINK

I shall never forget the feeling which possessed me when I made thisterrible leap. If my foot should slip, if I should fall short, if Ishould fall and be dashed to pieces! It was only a second; but Iseemed to live a whole lifetime in that second. I landed safely, however, and was soon by Ruth's side. 

To my delight she was scarcely hurt at all, except that she hadreceived a shock. She was trembling violently, but she was a bravelittle thing, and as soon as I came she conquered her weakness. 

"Can we get away from here, Roger?" she said, at length. 

"I think so, " I replied. "If we can't get down from here they will getus a rope, which I will fasten around you, so that you may be easilydrawn up. "

"Oh, I do not think I dare be drawn up, " she said, with a shudder. "Can we not get down? I dare try with you to help me. "

I examined the rocks, and decided to make the attempt. It was a longand tedious journey, especially as I had to clamber from rock to rock, and then lift Ruth. We managed it, however, and after a time stoodsafely on the hard beach. 

No sooner had we done so than I heard my father's voice above. He hadcome with a rope and other means by which we might be helped; but rightglad was he when he saw that we were not needing his help. 

"The tide is out, " I shouted in answer to his query as to how we shouldget home, "and I shall walk down to Trewinion Cove, and thus escapeclimbing any cliffs. "

We started together. 

"This is the second time you have saved my life, Roger, " Ruth said. 

"Do you think so?" I answered. "You might have got on all rightwithout me. "

"I do not think I have been just to you, " she went on. 

"How?" I asked, abruptly. 

"Perhaps I ought not to tell you, " she said, "but I cannot help it now. "

I asked her to explain. 

"I have sudden likes and dislikes, " she said, "and when you saved me inthe storm, and I heard that you were going to be my brother, I wasglad--more glad than I can say. Then when I was getting well yourmother came and told me that you had neither fear nor feelings. Thatyou had risked your life out of mere love of danger, that you werecruel and vindictive. That, although you were the heir of theTrewinions, you were totally unfit for its responsibilities. That yourbrother Wilfred was in reality robbed of the position which he alonewas fit to take. That you had ever been cruel to him, that, althoughyou were superior in strength, you took advantage of his weakness. Thus, when I saw you, although you had saved my life, I was prepared todislike you. "

"And then?" I asked. 

"I thought you verified what your mother had said. You seemed roughand uncouth, and very different from your brother. "

I suppose most of us like to be thought well of. None of us wish to belooked upon as objects of repugnance. Anyhow, I was in no pleasantframe of mind, and I had hard work to keep from bursting out with somestrong invective against my brother, but I held my tongue and waitedfor her to continue. 

"Since then, " she went on, "I have been finding out my mistake, and Ihave wanted to tell you so; but you have always been so cold andrepellent that I dared not. You are rough and stern, Roger, not a bitlike Wilfred. "

I bit my lip angrily. 

"Yes, I know you have saved my life again, " she said, as if divining mythoughts. "I know that Wilfred dared not do what you have done; butwhat I meant was that anyone who does not understand you would thinkyou harsh. Besides, it takes some time to know you. "

"But I always felt friendly towards you, Ruth, even though you seemedto dislike me. "

"And I shall always be more friendly to you in the future. I want youto forgive me, Roger. Will you?"

She looked at me, and her great grey eyes were full of kindness, andher voice was so gentle that I felt quite uncomfortable. 

"Don't talk about forgiving, " I said, rather roughly, I expect, "let usbe good friends. "

She looked very pale as I said this, and then I saw that she was moreshaken and hurt than I had at first thought. She would have fallen, Ibelieve, had I not upheld her. I led her to a rock, where she sat downfor a rest, and when I had found some fresh water for her, she wasquite refreshed. She took hold of my arm as we walked home, however, and I felt a strange pleasure in helping her. She had grown just likeone of my sisters to me, and she seemed to regard me as a brother. 

We talked quite pleasantly on our way, until we forgot the great dangerin which we had both been a little while before. I forget just nowwhat we were talking about; but I know that while we were laughingheartily at something she had been saying we were startled by a voicetelling us to stop. 

We looked up, and Deborah Teague stood before us. She eyed us keenly, and when she saw how friendly we were, she said, "Maaster Roger, mindwhat ould Debrah said. "

"I always do mind what you say, Deborah, " I replied; "you have alwaysbeen a friend to me. "

"Maaster Roger, " she continued, "ould Debrah hev vollied the fortins ofyer family for years, and she ought to knaw. "

"Well, what's wrong now?"

"It wur a woman as tempted Adam, it wur a woman as tempted Samson, itwur a woman as tempted Ahab. Lev Maaster Roger be keerful. "

"I hardly know what you mean, " I said, a little astonished at thisstrange speech. 

She lifted her skinny hand above her head. 

"Mind, " she said, "mind Trewinion's curse! Oh, tes comin', tes comin'. I see it now. Mind, Maaster Roger, my deer, mind. Doan't 'ee forgitwhat ould Debrah tould 'ee on the night of the storm, years agone. 'Twas the mawther that was too cunning for Esau, ah, and ef MaasterRoger ed'n keerful the mawther'll be too cunnin' for him. "

Try as I would I could not help shuddering at her words, while Ruthclutched my arm convulsively. 

"Keep boath yer eyes oppen, Maaster Roger, or the curse'll be upon 'ee, for as sure as ould Debrah spaikes tes comin'. "

She waddled away when she said this, leaving us to wonder at her words. 

What caused her to speak like this? How could she know what shedid?--for her words came true. Did she possess some power to peer intothe future? Were things clear to her vision to which I was blind? Orwas it simply that she was clear headed and clever and her statementsamounted only to a shrewd guess?

I will not dare to answer. I have seen so many strange things happen, which I have been unable to explain, that to say she was possessed of apower that was not natural would be unwise. And yet I have been fedupon strange mental food, and have been led to believe in things atwhich some laugh. 

"What does she mean, Roger?" said Ruth, when she had gone. 

I was silent. 

"Do you think she is a witch?" she continued; "she looks like one. "

"She is a strange old woman, " I said, as lightly as I could, for I didnot want Ruth to be made anxious, "and some think she is a witch; butMr. Polperrow says she is only a clever old woman who knows more thanthe common run of villagers. "

She was about to ask more questions when we saw my father, Wilfred, andmy sisters coming towards us. Both my sisters gave a shout of joy, andI saw a glad look in my father's eyes. But Wilfred's face was black asnight, and the gleam of a devil flashed in his eyes. He did not speak, and while the others were anxiously asking questions as to what we didand how we had managed, Wilfred stood and glared savagely at me. Hiseyes became red, and his face like the face of a corpse. 

I asked myself whether my father had accused him of being a coward, orif my sisters had been foolishly praising me, as they sometimes did, for neither Katherine nor Elizabeth seemed to realise how rough anduncouth I was. I noticed, however, that when Ruth began to magnifywhat I had done, as in her exaggerated notions of things she did, hegave a cynical, sarcastic laugh, and walked back to the house alone. 

Did Wilfred care so much about praise, I wondered, or was he bittertowards me because I was heir to the Trewinion lands? Why else shouldhe be so unbrotherly to me?

I do not think my sisters did Ruth any good by talking to her about herdanger, for it brought back to her that faintness which she experiencedupon the sands, so we soon took her indoors, where, being able to restin quietness, she recovered. 

I do not think it is my nature to remain unfriendly with any one, so Imade an opportunity of trying to find Wilfred, in order to know what Ihad done to offend him. I found, however, that he was with my mother, and did not wish to be seen. 

Again Deborah Teague's words came back to me. Was Wilfred's mother mymother? If so, why was it she never allowed me into her private room?Why were there no confidences between us as there were between her andmy brother? Was she the cause of my brother's anger?

That evening we all sat together in the library, as we generally didbefore going to rest. Ruth still looked pale, and complained of pains. Evidently her fall had hurt her more than we had thought. My mothersat near her, and lovingly held her hand, often saying soft lovingwords, as though she wanted to be a mother to her. I was glad of this, for I was sure that Ruth must often feel sad and lonely, and it mustcomfort her to know that although she was an orphan she was stillbeloved. 

We all joined in conversation, with the exception of Wilfred. He satbehind his mother, never speaking a word. I forget now what were thesubjects of discussion; it does not matter much. Still I cannot butwish that some clever painter could have put the gathering on canvas, for to me it looked beautiful. My father was so stately and grand, while my mother was, I think, the handsomest woman I ever saw; andbehind her was the clear, Greek-like face of my brother. The threegirls, too, looked the picture of contentment. It was a home scene ina quiet old house, and worthy of a painter's skill. 

We had been sitting there some little time, when the vicar walked in. He was always a welcome visitor and I regarded him as a sort of secondfather. He joined in our conversation quite naturally, and we soonbecame quite merry together. 

Presently there was a lull in our talk, and then Wilfred, without anywarning, broke out excitedly, and in a loud voice, "Father, I want to go to Oxford. "

We all looked at him in astonishment. He had been so silent all theevening that this made us think something was the matter. 

My father eyed him keenly, and then replied quietly. 

"I had arranged for you to go next year, Wilfred. "

"Yes, but I want to go now, " he said, excitedly. "I've been home herelong enough; I've wasted enough time. "

"You've not wasted so much time, my boy, " said my father, kindly. "Mr. Polperrow has had you in hand, and has given you a good drilling;besides, you are only just turned eighteen. "

"I know, " he said; "but I am the younger son, and so shall have nofortune. Thus, I think, I should waste no time in getting aneducation. Mr. Polperrow told me, not long since, that he could not domuch more for me, and as I am to be 'penniless Wilfred' I think I mighthave a chance to earn my bread. "

"You will not be penniless, Wilfred, " said my father. "You will be aswell endowed as most young men, and I have my plans for the future. "

"But I can't stay here longer, " he cried. "If I have talents whyshould I waste them here? Give me a chance, and then the second sonmay turn out to be as good as the elder. "

This was spoken both bitterly and sadly, as if he felt his lot to behard. 

"I have come about this very matter, " said Mr. Polperrow. "Wilfred hasvery great gifts, and the sooner he goes to Oxford the better. I havesome little influence there, and if you thought fit I would makearrangements at once. "

My mother's eyes fairly shone with joy as he said this, and then shetoo joined in the plea that Wilfred should be allowed to leave home sothat his powers might have a fair chance of being tested. 

My father at length gave his consent, and Mr. Polperrow went away withthe commission to procure for Wilfred an entrance into this ancientseat of learning. 

When we retired to rest I thought long over the events of the day. What was the meaning of this sudden desire to depart? Was there aleague between the three who had advocated this step? Only a few daysbefore Wilfred had been speaking of going to Oxford a year later. Whythen this sudden resolution?

I fell asleep, however, without solving the problem, and as during thenext few days Wilfred wore a grieved expression and seldom spoke to anyone but his mother and Ruth, I was still deeper in mystery. When wewere all together, if he spoke to me, he spoke kindly, but when we werealone he betrayed a hatred for me that I could not understand. 

A month later my mother was in great sorrow. Wilfred had started forOxford. 

CHAPTER VII

THE WITCHES' CAVE

As I look back over what I am now about to relate, my mind is strangelyconfused with the amount of reality and unreality that appeared. Atone time I am inclined to think it all real, at another I am led toregard it as pure imagination, or as due to the credulity of ahot-brained youth. Be that as it may, however, I will try and set downwhat I remember as faithfully as I can. 

After Wilfred had gone things were very quiet. My mother seldom spoketo me, but kept Ruth by her side, until the two became, as it seemed tome, almost inseparable. Indeed, she took far more notice of Ruth thanshe did of her own daughters. As a consequence my sisters and I wereoften together, until the villagers came to say that Roger Trewinionwanted no sweethearts but his sisters. 

On the afternoon of a sultry autumn day, some time after Wilfred hadgone to Oxford, I had to walk past Deborah Teague's cottage, and sawthe old woman sitting on the doorstep quietly smoking. 

"Come ere, Maaster Roger, " she said; "I've been waitin' for 'ee a bralong while. "

I looked at her in astonishment. 

"Iss' my dear, I knawed you was a comin', so I says I'll jist wait forMaaster Roger. "

"How did you know I was coming?"

"Knaw!" she replied, "what doan't I knaw? But come in, I want to talkto 'ee. "

"What about?"

"Somethin' you're interested in, my deer. Ther set down. Yer brotheres gone away to college edn't a?"

"Yes, he's gone. "

"Ah, ould Debrah ev for a long time bin thinkin' 'bout it, my dear. "

"About what?"

"'Twas a hawful storm, Maaster Roger, wadn't it, then? People do saythat ould women ca'ant do nothin', but, law, that storm wur big enoughand bad enough!"

"Do you mean to say that you caused the storm then?"

"No, not me, my dear, but I knawed it wur a comin' ded'n I un? Andded'n I give 'ee warnin', my dear? Ef I dedn't, why she would'n ev binlivin' now. "

"Deborah, " I said, "you are talking in riddles. If you have anythingto tell me, let me know about it. "

"Doan't 'ee be vexed, Maaster Roger. Ould Debrah is yer friend, and dowant for you to be her friend!"

"But I don't understand all this mysterious talk. You are hinting atstrange things. Let me know about it. Is there witchcraft in thematter?"

"Ould Debrah do knaw 'bout Trewinion's curse, doan't she, my deer? Howshould she know that except by--well, we wa'ant say what. "

"Yes, you have hinted about it? But what have I to do with it? I havedone nothing that will cause it to rest upon me. "

"But tes comin', Maaster Roger, ef I and some more doan't help 'ee. Tell 'ee, my dear, things belongin' to the sperrits can onnley bestopped by they who--well, who have got power in they paarts. "

I was getting interested. 

"Are you a witch, then?" I asked. 

"Can 'ee bear to hear it, Maaster Roger?" she whispered. 

"I can bear anything, " I said. 

"Maaster Roger, you've eerd of Farmer Jory?"

"Yes, often. "

"Ah, ee died a awful death, my deer. "

"So I've heard, " I said. "People have told me that his last hours wereterrible; that he seemed like one placed upon a rock. And thatalthough at one time he was well off, all his cattle died and hisground refused to grow crops. "

"You've eerd that, av 'ee? Well, now, I tell 'ee summin. My old manPitter used to work for'n, my dear, and my maid went there to sarvice. Pitter and me were 'appy as two turtle doves, my deer, and my maid wasthe puttiest in the parish. Well, Farmer Jory was a bad man, my deer. He ought to ev married my maid, and he ded'n, an' though I went down onmy knees and prayed to 'im to save her frum disgrace, he would'nt, andso she died heartbroken. By this time Pitter wur nearly a cripple andcouldn't work much, so that we wur nearly starvin'. He had worked forthe Jorys oll his life, and now when they ought to ev 'elped us theyleft us to starve. Twa'nt more'n three weeks after we berried the maidafore Pitter died of starvation and a brokken heart, and I wur leftalone. Oh, Maaster Roger, ef you could ev knawed what I suffered youwould pity me. I wur nearly mad wi' grief and shame, and the day aftermy owld man wur berried I wur sittin' in the doorway theer, when BetseyTressider comed 'long. I was allays 'fraid of Betsey, cause peoplesaid she wur a witch, and did meet with a lot ov others up in the witchov Fraddam's cave. She axed me what I wur grievin' for and I touldher. Then she laughed and zed I wur a fool not to be revenged onFarmer Jory, and not to make 'im suffer more'n I'd suffered. I axedher ow I cud do it, and she tould me to become a witch. Then I axedher ow I could be a witch, and she tould me to go to Logan Rock ninetimes at midnight and tich it wi my little vinger, an' she laughed andwent away. 

"Well, I wur oal alone, and so I thot and thot, and then I went toLogan Rock and tiched it wance, and I veeled a strange shivery feelin'and then I did it every night until the ninth night. "

"And what happened then, Deborah?" I asked. 

"I shan't tell 'ee that, my dear, but when I comed 'ome I seed FarmerJory, and I looked top un, and I zed--well, never mind what I zed; butyou knaw what happened. "

"But witchcraft is of the devil, " I said. 

"Tes and tedn't, " she said, mysteriously. "Who can charm as well asme, and the charms es oal bout goodness. Here, my dear, I'll tell 'eesome charms, and then you'll knaw ef they be good; but never tell aman, Maaster Roger, ef you do you'll break em. You knaw that TommyTriscott's cheeld came to me t'other day with a scald, and I charmedun, and the charm is this:--

 Then came three angels out of the east, One brought fire, and two brought frost; Out fire, and in frost In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost--Amen. 

"And is Tommy better?"

"He had aise in three minutes; but he wur cured with a good name. I'lltell 'ee nother. You do knaw when you wur a cheeld you had a greatthorn in ye arm through fallin' off a hedge, and you comed to me, and Icharmed it and cured 'ee?"

"Very well. "

"Well, I'll tell 'ee the charm:--

 Christ was of a Virgin born, And He was prick'd by a thorn, And it did never throb nor swell, And I trust in Jesus this never will. 

 Christ was crowned with thorns; The thorns did bleed but did not rot. No more shall thy finger, In the name of Father, Son and Holy Ghost. 

I could not help a creepy feeling coming over me as she uttered thewords. I remembered her charming the place where the thorn had beenand rubbing some ointment over it, and I also remember how quickly Ihad ease. 

"So, my deer, " she went on, "tedn't always a bad power that witcheshave. "

"Well, " I said at length, "have you asked me to come in here in orderthat you might tell me this?"

"Not all, my deer. I've wa'anted to show 'ee as ow I've got power, Maaster Roger, and that tedn't oal bad. And I want 'ee to harken to meso that you may not have the Trewinion's curse. "

"Can you stop it?" I asked. 

"I weth others can, " she said. 

"But the curse of the Trewinion's will not come upon me, " I said, "forI shall not do anything to incur it. "

"Wa'ant 'ee, but you will, Maaster Roger, and ef you doan't do as Itell 'ee you'll rue it to yer dyin' day. I see it comin', I see itcomin', " and she lifted her skinny hand above her head. "I zee MaasterRoger beggard, I zee un starvin', I zee un mad wi' shame, I zee unouseless, and omeless, I zee hes brother where he ought to be oalthrough Trewinion's curse. "

In spite of myself I felt the old woman to be speaking the truth. 

"But I will abide by everything written for my safety, " I said. 

"You ca'ant, you ca'ant, " she screamed. 

"Why?" I asked. 

"You were born in a onlucky month, and the onlucky week of the month, and a onlucky day of the week, and an onlucky time ov the day. "

"Why, when was I born?"

"You was born at nine o'clock ov a Friday evenin', in the third week inMay, " she said. 

"And I can do nothing to avert the curse?"

"No, but I can. "

"How?"

"Will 'ee come wi' me to Betsey Fraddam's cave?"

"When?"

"To-night. "

"At what time?"

"Twelve o'clock. "

"No, " I said with a shudder. 

She glared at me with her evil eye, then she said slowly:

"You'll come. "

Betsey Fraddam's cave had an evil reputation. It was the meeting-placefor all the evil women in the neighbourhood. Women who possessedterrible power. I had been taught to believe in them and to avoidcoming into collision with them. 

"Who'll be there?" I asked. 

"You'll see, " she said. 

I went home soon after, pondering over Deborah's words. We retired tobed early at our house, and by ten o'clock quietness reignedeverywhere. I could not sleep, however. My mind was excited by whatold Deborah had told me, and when eleven o'clock came I had an intensedesire to go to Fraddam's cave. The witch of Fraddam was almost ahousehold word among the simple people. It was said that she wasconstantly raising storms and working mischief, and that if any one sawher thus engaged, woe be to that one for ever after. From my earliestchildhood I had been frightened with stories of Betsey Fraddam's cave. It was whispered that the terrible witch herself met the living witchesand goaded them on to terrible deeds. 

Still I wanted to go. In the silence of the night the curse of theTrewinion's became terrible to me, and I was anxious to know how Icould avert it. Besides, so much had my mind been filled with storiesof the superstitious and wonderful that I felt afraid to disobey theold woman's summons. It is true I was a young man fairly welleducated, and as a consequence disbelieved many of the stories of apriest-ridden age. And it may be that as the years roll by futuregenerations may disbelieve in what we speak of to-day, even as wedisbelieve the stories of the past. Nevertheless, at half-past elevenI rose and dressed quietly in order to go down to Fraddam's cave. 

I remembered the old vicar's words, however, and said my prayers beforestarting, and then hurried down the precipitous pathway to the sand. The tide was out, and I could hear the sweet murmur of the sea in thedistance. There was no wind, and the pale light of the moon lit up thescene, which was grand in the extreme. On my right hand behind me, rose the giant cliffs, rugged and forbidding, on the great headlandstood our house, bluff and bold like an old castle. 

I looked in the direction of the cave of evil repute, but could seenothing. My heart throbbed wildly. As old Deborah had said, weTrewinions never feared the living, but we trembled at the thought ofthe dead. 

As I drew near Fraddam's cave I saw a twinkling light, and on coming upto its mouth I saw the bent form of an old woman. 

"Trewinion's heir!" said a voice, and the light was taken into the cave. 

As if drawn on by a charm I entered. It was the first time I had everdared to do so. Often had I passed by the cave; but its reputation forevil was so terrible that I had avoided entering it. I doubt whetherany inhabitant for miles around would ever think of intruding in aplace which, it was believed, belonged to the powers of darkness. 

The cave became larger the farther I penetrated into it, and was lit upby a ruddy kind of light. I noticed, too, in spite of my fears, thatthe main cave led to smaller ones, and that on each side of theentrance the ground was honeycombed. Presently the light becamebrighter, and, turning a sharp angle, I saw a good sized fire, on whicha crock was steaming round about which weird forms sat. The ground wasquite dry and it was evident the tide seldom came so far. As my eyesbecame more accustomed to the light, I recognised some of the women whosat there. Betsey Flue, Mally Udy, and Tory Bone lived within a mileof Trewinion Manor, and had doubtful reputations. 

None of them looked at me for some time. They were intent on watchingthe fire and the steaming crock. The smell from this article was by nomeans unpleasant, evidently some savoury meat was being cooked, and Ibegan to feel the place to be less gruesome than I had at firstanticipated. I noticed, too, that a great many things were stowed awaywhich could have no connection with the unseen world. Evidently thecave was used by smugglers as well as witches. 

"Let Debrah Teague spaik, " said an aged crone. 

"Maaster Roger do knaw what I main, " said Deborah. "There's an awfulcurse for the Trewinion 'ouse, and unless Maaster Roger do as we dotell un he'll ave it. "

Ghastly as was the sight, uncanny as was the place, this speech of theold woman dispelled much of my fear. The nocturnal gatherings ofwitches were in my idea always associated with mysterious incantations. Although Shakespeare was a forbidden book to us boys, I had read"Macbeth, " and this meeting was altogether dissimilar from the meetingof witches therein described. In spite of everything, I could not helpthinking these old women were met for some sinister purpose far removedfrom the mysteries of witchcraft, so I said boldly:

"Old Deborah wanted me to come here; I have come. What do you want?"

"The curse is comin'. We can remove it, " said the old woman who wentby the name of Mally Udy. 

"How?" I asked, for the sound of their voices and the sound of my ownmade me bolder still. 

"We've worked a charm, " said Mally, the oldest woman in the party. "Westole into Trewinion Church and took some water that the parson hadused fur christenin' his oan grancheeld, an' we've made a broth of it. We've boiled a piece of lamb in it, with some sycamore leaves and somehagglet (white thorn) leaves, and we've said nine charms, nine timesaich, and it'll ondo any curse. "

"Where is it?" I said. 

"Here, a boilin' now, " was the reply. 

I began to feel fearful again. 

"But Maaster Roger must make a vow afore he drinks, " said Mally. 

"What?" I asked. 

"You must say this, " she said, shaking her skinny finger. "I, RogerTrewinion, promise never to hurt the women here to-night, or theirchildren. I promise it by the sperrits of the place. And I make a vowthat I'll allays protect they and their children as fur as I can. "

There was a cunning look on her face as she spoke. I felt now thatthese were evil women, and that I would have nothing to do with them. 

"I refuse to make the promise, " I said. 

"You'm afraid, you'm a coward, " cried Deborah. 

"No, I'm not afraid, I'm not a coward, " I said, "and I'll stop theseproceedings of yours. You have other reasons than witchcraft forcoming here, and I'll know what they are. "

This roused their passion. 

"Evil sperrits shall tear 'ee, " they said, "and oal your tribe. "

"You are a set of evil hags, " I said, furiously; "and the mysteries ofthis cavern shall be brought to light. "

"Stop!" said old Mally Udy, "this broth here was fur yer good. I'llturn it to something bad and make 'ee drink it. The spirit of BetseyFraddam is here, and she'll make a mixture for 'ee. "

I had worked myself up into a passion and I kicked the crock andoverturned it. 

Never shall I forget the terrible words they said to me, or the cursesthey called upon me. They cursed me in body and mind, they cursed mein love and hate, in living and dying. 

What was it, I wonder? Meaningless jargon, or not? When my story istold you will be able to judge better. 

I went out of the cave in fear, and when outside I fancied I saw theterrible form of Betsey Fraddam. Then I went back to my home trembling. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

 O beware of my lord of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on: that cuckold lives on bliss Who, certain of his fate, love not its wronger. But O, what damned minutes tells he o'er Who dotes yet doubts; suspects yet fondly loves. --_Othello. _

Alone in my room that night I began to think again. I had hurried backfrom the cave with fearful speed, never daring to stop or think. Now Icould do both, and for hours I tried to solve the problem before me. What was the meaning of this night's adventure? Had these women thepower to rid me of a terrible calamity, or were they seeking simply theprotection I should be able to afford in the future years? They wereall in bad repute, and ofttimes the anger of the people was arousedagainst them, thus if they could gain my friendship they would becomparatively safe. Did they seek to frighten me into a promise, orwas there some dread meaning in their words?

These questions drove me to pray, or rather, to say my prayers. I didnot, could not, really pray. To me there was no real God. All was asmisty and unreal as the mythical stories I had read about the fabledGreek gods. For hours I sought light, and help, and strength; but nonecame, and when daylight came I was still in doubt. 

The next day I passed by old Deborah's cottage. I thought she mighthave something to say to me, but when she saw me she, bent her head andwould not answer to my "good-day. " Try as I would I could not helpfeeling that she had ill-will against me, and would lose no opportunityto do me an injury. Once I thought of speaking to my father about it;but I dared not tell him that I had been to Fraddam's cave at midnight;that act was in itself enough to bring darkness to my future, if therewere any truth in the stories which floated in the very atmosphere ofmy life. 

Days lengthened into weeks, and weeks into months, and nothinghappened. Old Mally Udy passed and re-passed me, but she gave no signof our midnight encounter. She dropped her usual curtsey of respectwhen she saw me. Thus it was that the awe of the night in Fraddam'scave died out. I gave up seriously thinking about it, and as theaffairs of the Trewinion estate began to rest on me my mind was fullyoccupied. 

During the months that followed, I believe I was moody and taciturn. At any rate, my sisters did not find so much pleasure in being with meas formerly, while Ruth was still my mother's companion. She wasalways kind to me, and seemed glad if she were able to do littlesisterly acts, but we were never alone together, and never were thereany confidences between us. 

On my twenty-first birthday there were great festivities at our house. All the tenant farmers, their wives, and their children, together withthe cottagers and labourers on the estate, were invited. These, withthe neighbouring gentry, made a gay scene. There was one vacant place, however, which largely spoiled the enjoyment of the day. This was mybrother Wilfred's. He had been pressed to return home, but had refusedto do so, even for the celebration of my coming of age. Indeed, heintimated that he did not wish to do so until his three years ofcollege life should come to an end. 

My father was annoyed at this; but my mother said not a word. Itseemed to me that she had expected things to turn out so, and was notat all surprised. Her behaviour to me after my birthday was more coldthan ever. She took no pains to make herself friendly towards me, yet, unless Deborah Teague were right, she was my mother. 

The months slipped rapidly by, until three years had elapsed sinceWilfred had gone to Oxford, and now he was daily expected to return. 

During that time none of us had seen him except my father and mother, who had travelled to Oxford specially for that purpose. My two sistersoften speculated what he would be like, how he would act, while Ruth, too, seemed to look forward with great pleasure to his return. 

Ruth had grown to be a beautiful woman. She was by no means tall orstately, but she was as fair as a spring morning, and lovely beyondcompare. Great pains had been taken with her education, and this, added to her personal charms, caused her to be envied for miles aroundby girls of her own age. 

Her old friend Mr. Inch had remained at our house all this time, andtried to gratify her every wish. He was friendly with Wilfred, and Ifound out that they corresponded regularly. With me, however, he wasnot nearly so friendly. He was always polite, almost painfully so; buthe never looked me straight in the face, and often, I thought, regardedme with dislike. I explained this, partly by the fact of my uncouthways, and partly by his intimacy with my mother, who regarded him withgreat favour. 

At length the day arrived when Wilfred came back. I shall never forgetit, for it began a new era in my existence. I awoke on the morning ofthat day bright and cheerful, with not a cloud that was worth thementioning upon the sky of my life. When I retired to rest all waschanged. I awoke a boy, I went to sleep a man. But for that day theseconfessions would never have been written; the events I shall relatewould never have come to pass. Even now, as I look back, my heartbeats more rapidly at the thought of it, and a strange feelingpossesses me, which reminds me of what I felt then. 

I remember how anxiously I saw the horses being attached to the oldfamily carriage, and with what joy I saw my father and mother drivenaway to meet the coach by which Wilfred was to come. I longed, as muchas any of them, to see him, although I said but little about it, for, in spite of his apparent dislike of me, he was still my brother, and Iloved him very much. 

We all stood at the old hall door as the carriage drove up, and watchedmy father alight. Then another form stepped on the hard gravel, andcarefully assisted my mother. 

I should scarcely have recognised him as my brother. He had gone awaybut little more than a boy, he had returned a handsome, cultured man. He was not big and clumsy like myself, but tall and lithe, and yetexceedingly muscular. There was grace in his every movement, whilerefinement was stamped upon his handsome face. I could not helpfeeling the contrast between us. I was a great boorish country clown, he was as handsome as a Greek god. Surely, too, there was a look ofmalicious satisfaction on my mother's face as she saw the differencebetween us. He seemed to change the very atmosphere of the house. Everything had a new meaning when associated with him. My sisterslooked at him with admiration, while Ruth was evidently fascinated bythe charm of his presence. 

In his boyish days he had often seemed sulky, but that was all gone. His demeanour towards my father was at once respectful andaffectionate, to his mother he was kind and loving, to the girls he wasgallant and considerate, while to me I thought he extended an air ofpatronage. 

The old Wilfred had gone, and a new Wilfred had taken his place; aWilfred who was brilliant, gallant, scholarly. 

I remember that we dined early that day, and after dinner I went outalone, as I often did, and sat upon the great headland which stood outagainst the sea. I remained there some time thinking, and wonderedwhat kind of a life we should lead now that Wilfred had come back. Ifelt in some way that I had no right to my father's estate; I was notfit for it, and that I lived there on my brother's bounty. 

These thoughts were disturbed by the sound of voices, and looking up Isaw a sight that caused my brain to whirl and my heart to throbviolently. 

Wilfred and Ruth were walking arm-in-arm, and he was looking at her atonce tenderly and with an air of proprietorship. Then I knew what Idid not know before, then I realised what nearly drove me mad. I lovedRuth Morton with all the strength of my being, while she, I could tellfrom the tender confiding look on her face, was in love with my brotherWilfred. 

I staggered to my feet, scarcely knowing what I was doing, and staredthem in the face foolishly. 

"Ah, Roger, " said Wilfred, lightly, "enjoying yourself in the old way?All play and no work. Happy fellow, you, Roger; but then, some peopleare born lucky. "

I felt myself treated as a child. There was a jeering look upon hisface as he spoke, and his tone was that of a man speaking to another ofinferior intellect. 

I did not answer his sally. I only felt desirous of joining in theirwalk, of having a chance, no less than he, of speaking to Ruth; so Istammered out:

"You are going for a walk; let me go with you. "

He did not hesitate a minute before replying, and in the same tone ashe spoke before. 

"You won't mind, I'm sure, Roger, when I tell you that we prefer takingthis walk alone. We haven't met for three years, and have so much tosay to each other. "

Again I was treated as a child, and I became angry. I was about to saysomething very foolish, but before I could utter the words they weregone, and I heard Wilfred laugh a low, jibing kind of laugh. 

I think I was mad during the remainder of that afternoon. My brain wason fire, and everything seemed to whirl around me. My love was nosooner known to myself than the object of it was snatched from me byanother, and that other my other brother. 

I tried to convince myself that he was more worthy than I. I toldmyself that I was a country bumpkin, an ignorant clown, and unworthy toaspire to a maiden like Ruth Morton. That I was under a curse, that Idared not leave the Trewinion lands for six months at a time, and thatit was better she should love Wilfred. This however, did not satisfyme. Try as I would to stifle it, I could not help thinking I had moreclaims to her love than he. What had he done for her? Nothing! I, onthe other hand, had twice risked my life for hers. But for me shewould have died, and yet she had bestowed her love on another. Hadshe? I was not sure, and yet there could be little or no doubt aboutit. Wilfred was capable of winning any woman's affection, and I feltcertain she would not resist his wishes. The very first day of hisreturn they had gone away together, and no doubt he would impress herwith his cleverness and greatness. 

I would know the truth and that soon. Such was my determination. Iwould ask her to walk alone with me as she had done with Wilfred, andthen I would find out. 

I cannot describe my new found love, or, rather, the knowledge of thelove I had felt for years. It was so strange, so great. I had fromthe first taken a special interest in Ruth; from the first I hadregarded her as a very dear sister. Now she was a thousand times morethan a sister. Nothing was too good for her. My one great thought wasto give Ruth happiness and joy. Why, then, did I not without a murmursacrifice her to Wilfred. Surely he could give her more happiness andjoy than I? Strange as it may seem, I felt that he could not. Ishuddered at the thought of her belonging to him in any way, and Iground my teeth at the thought of their being together. 

Perhaps this was because of my jealousy. Nevertheless, I am sure thatrough, uncouth, ay, half savage as I was, I would willingly have laiddown my life to save her from pain. 

I had no chance to speak to her that day, nor the next, nor indeed formany days. When my chance came, something stepped in between us. Either Wilfred was with Ruth, or my mother claimed the girl as hercompanion. I need not say that this maddened me more than ever andmade me act in anything but a creditable way. I would leave the merryfamily party and go down to the village to talk with the fishermen. Iwould seek to forget my own sorrows by laughing at their jokes, orentering into their lives. Again, I would indulge in long, lonelywalks, or go away fishing alone. I knew I was fighting against my owninterests by doing this. I knew I was allowing my brother to use everyfascinating art in his power. 

At length, my time came. We had all been out in the harvest fieldstogether, watching the reapers cut the golden wheat and gather it intosheaves. 

Surely the earth has few fairer sights than this! I have travelledover a great deal of the globe, but I have seen nothing fairer than ourold Trewinion fields at harvest time. Especially was this so beneaththe light of the harvest moon. I shall never forget it. As twilightfaded, a thin mist rose from the earth, which, as the pale moon's raysshone through it, looked strangely beautiful. The corn moughs(stacks), too, looked weird and ghastly in the dim light, while thesilver sea in the distance made a low, delicious music as it gentlyrippled on the shore. 

In the distance I could hear the men and women singing on theirhomeward way some plaintive Cornish songs, which to me blended sweetlywith the low sighing of the wind. 

Ruth and I had by some means became separated from the rest, and myheart fluttered rapidly, for I had determined to find out if she lovedmy brother Wilfred. It has never been my way to lead up slowly to asubject. What I have to say I must blurt out at once, ofttimes in away that gives pain to those to whom I speak. 

"Ruth, " I said, "I have long wished to tell you something. "

"Have you, Roger?" she said, cheerfully "then tell me at once, for youhave made me curious. What can you wish to say to me?"

There was no hesitation, no trembling in her voice. 

She spoke as naturally as my own sisters might have spoken. 

"Let us go home by Pentvargle Cove, " I said, "and turn in atHoneysuckle-lane. "

"Very well, " she said, gaily; "and you'll pluck some of the honeysucklefor me, won't you? I can smell it from here; how delicious it is. Wouldn't Wilfred enjoy this?"

She was thinking of Wilfred even now, when she was alone with me, and Iwas about to burst out with an angry remark about my brother when Ilooked down into her face. 

To me it seemed like the face of an angel. Her large, lustrous greyeyes had a far-away look in them, and an expression of sweet, placidcontentment rested on every feature. Never have I seen a face sosweet, so beautiful. Tenderness, truth, purity were there, mingledwith courage, sacrifice, daring. It was a face never to be forgottenwhen once seen. Never did I love her as I did then, and I could notsay angry words about my brother. 

I have said I was clumsy in my mode of expression. I could say nothingas it should be said; and now, when I felt I ought to be more thanusually careful, I was more than ever confused. 

"Come Roger, " she said, "what is it you want to tell me?"

"I want to know, Ruth, " I said, my voice trembling, "why you shun me, dislike me, hate me so?"

CHAPTER IX

OMENS OF DARKNESS

 Look here upon this picture, and on this; The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See what grace was seated on his brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself. An eye like Mars to threaten or command. --_Hamlet_, Act III, Scene 3. 

She looked up as if surprised at my question. 

"Hate you, shun you, Roger, " she repeated. "Whatever led you to asksuch a question?"

"How can I help asking it, " I said, "when it is true? You never have aword for me now. Your every thought is given to my brother. I supposeit is because Roger is a boor, Roger is a clown, Roger is ugly. "

"What can possess you to speak in such a way?" she said. 

I knew I had spoken foolishly; but I could not help it. I was mad withrage and jealousy. Having once begun to speak, all judgment anddiscretion were gone. I was determined to know my fate, determined toknow if she loved my brother Wilfred. 

"Possess me!" I answered. "Well, I hardly know; but this I know. Eversince my prig of a brother has come home from Oxford with his affectedsmile and flattering ways, Ruth has had no ears or eyes for any oneelse. "

"Still I fail to understand you, " she said. 

"I do not doubt, " I replied, savagely, "that I am too ignorant a clownto make my meaning clear. Were Wilfred speaking, you would understandhim. He would put his thoughts in such poetic language, and speak insuch cooing tones, that little Ruth would be made to think as hethought, and feel as he felt; but I--I am nobody. "

"Roger, " she said, "you are not kind, you are not speaking like my bigbrother. "

"No, I cannot, " I said, "I do not feel that I am your brother. Whatkind feeling have you towards me? Not a jot. It is Wilfred, Wilfred, ever Wilfred. "

She walked on by my side in silence, I feeling that I had been a brute, a savage. What right had I to speak so roughly, and thus to annoy her?I looked down at her face, and I saw that her eyes were filled withtears and her lips trembled. For a moment my jealousy and anger weregone. 

"Forgive me, sister Ruth, " I said, "I ought not to speak so. Try andforget what I have said. See, we are in Honeysuckle-lane, and here issome. "

I picked a sprig of honeysuckle as I spoke and gave it to her, whichshe received kindly. This emboldened me. Perhaps after all I was notso hateful to her. 

I have not a very poetical nature; but I think the scene by which wewere surrounded aroused what little I had. The birds were findingtheir way to the hedgerows to seek rest for the night, ever and anongiving a faint chirp of content. The beetles went humming heedlesslyby, the bees laden with honey returned to their hives, and all natureseemed to be at peace. The honeysuckle and the hedge flowers that grewin wild confusion perfumed the lane in which we walked; the nuts hungin thick clusters on the fences, blackberries everywhere abounded. Oneby one the stars came out of their obscurity until the heavens becameglorious; and as we walked on, the evening became more still. Theharvesters reached their homes, and we no longer heard the sound oftheir voices. The night wind served only to make delicious music as itplayed with the leaves on the trees and hedges or coquetted with thegolden corn. Now and then we could hear the sea murmur its old, oldsong. To me it told of peace, and calm, and beauty. 

And I was alone with the maiden whom I loved more dearly than my life. 

I said that her kindness emboldened me, so with great trembling hands Itook her bonnet from her head and wove a piece of honeysuckle amid hernut-brown hair. 

Beautiful, beautiful Ruth! Yes, after the long stretch of weary yearsI still call her so; but that night she was to me more than beautiful, she was like an angel. I was young and unsophisticated, and--and I didnot know what was coming. 

For fully five minutes we did not speak. Slowly we walked side by sidein the calm still eventide, until we emerged from the lane, and wenttowards Pentvargle Cove. Then the sight of the rugged cliffs seemed toalter my feelings, and the old jealous passion returned. I could seethe five great prongs of the "Devil's Tooth" towering into the sky, andI could not help thinking of the time, years ago, when I had scaled itsslippery precipitous sides to save the girl at my side. Again the olddesire to know the worst came back to me. Did Ruth love my brotherWilfred?

"Do you see the 'Devil's Tooth' yonder, Ruth?" I said. 

"Yes, " she said, "how calm the sea is now. How different from when Isaw it first. Then--but I cannot bear to think about it, can you?" andshe shuddered as she spoke. 

"Oh, yes, " I said. "I like to think about it. Why, Ruth, I was ableto save you, you know. "

She was silent, and again a bitter feeling crept into my heart. 

"Don't you wish it had been Wilfred who saved you, instead of Roger?" Iasked, a little bitterly. 

"Why?" she said, quickly. 

"Because you seem to think so much more about him. You like to be inhis company, and you treasure every word that he says. "

I thought she looked confused, as she said hurriedly, "Why should Inot?"

At this answer I was as much the slave to my mad feelings as when wehad commenced our walk. It was bitter hard for me. There, in sight ofthe very place where I had saved her, she admitted her preference forhim who had done nothing for her. 

"Why should you not?" I answered, boisterously, "why not indeed. Thereis every reason why you should. No doubt you wish Wilfred were theelder son and I the younger. No doubt you wish he were Trewinion'sheir, and that I were penniless. "

"No, Roger, " she said, "were you penniless, and were your father todie, you would have no means of obtaining a livelihood. It is best asit is. "

Blunt and dull of perception as I was I could not help seeing thepurport of this. She thought me too much of a fool to earn a living;that it was only by the money which I inherited as a birthright I wassaved from starving. 

"I see the point of your answer, Ruth, " I said. "You think Wilfred farmore fit for the position of Trewinion's heir than I, and that I am tooignorant a clown to get a living for myself. "

"I cannot help what conclusions you draw from my words, Roger, " shereplied. 

"There is only one conclusion to be drawn, " I answered. "You thinkWilfred better than I. You think he should be master, and not I. Youthink I am a brute, a savage. "

"I think no such thing, " she replied, "but you must yourself feel thedifference between you and him. He is kind, thoughtful, gentle; he iscultured and refined. He gives way to no fits of passion, nor does heseek to hurt one's feelings. "

"Yes, yes, " I said, bitterly. "He has been to Oxford, and has learnttricks dear to a woman's heart, and, having learnt them, he knows howto practise them. He can quote poetry, and make soft speeches; he canplease you with flattery. His face is pale and interesting, his handsare soft and white; and Ruth is very fond of him. "

"You are unkind, and you are unjust, Roger. If he has been fonder ofstudy than you, and if he has learnt to govern his temper, don't bejealous or cruel. Better try and emulate him. You call yourselfboorish and clownish. Try and improve yourself; and then, perhaps, youwill not feel so much inferior to your brother. "

As I have said before, no one cares to hear another say what inself-disparaging moments he often says about himself. A dozen times inthe last fortnight had I spoken of myself as inferior to my brother, but for another to say it was wormwood and gall to me. 

"Copy my brother!" I said, savagely. "Be a soft-fingered coward likehim! To be afraid of my own shadow like him! Copy him! Why he is buta mere woman disgracing the clothes he wears. Had I been a puny thinglike him I should have ran away just as he did, and left you to die onyon rocks. And yet you talk of my copying him. Why, he's just asoft-muscled contemptible coward. "

"I scarcely know which I like less, " she cried, "a coward--although Idon't admit that your brother is one--or one who boasts of his ownbravery and taunts you with his own kind deeds. Roger, do you thinkbecause you cannot appreciate your brother's nobleness that it does notexist?"

This silenced me. I had been answered. She had championed my brother. She had declared in so many words that she preferred him to me. Sheregarded what I had done for her as nothing. 

I found then that my passion had been inflamed by hope, that myjealousy was due to this reason. No sooner did Ruth speak in the way Ihave described than a dull despair laid hold of my heart, and I wasdumb. I could see now that she loved Wilfred, and that she sawnobility in him, which, in her opinion my nature was too poor to see, that the fact of my having saved her life was to her little more thanthe action of an animal, who acted instinctively without a thought ofdanger. Well, on the whole I was glad to know the worst. I knew howto act now, I was not upheld by any false hope. 

"I am glad you have told me this, Ruth, " I said quietly. "It is bestthat I should know. I am afraid I have behaved very rudely! forgive meand you shall have no reason to complain again. "

She clutched my arm tightly, and seemed about to protest, but I did notallow her to speak. 

"It was mean and unmanly of me to say what I have, " I said, "but I wasexcited and almost beside myself; let us walk more rapidly towardshome. "

At this Ruth looked at my face as if in surprise, and began to speak. 

"I hope I have not hurt your feelings, Roger, but I--that is----"

"Pray, don't distress yourself, Ruth, " I said. "It is well you havespoken and let me see the truth. Perchance I shall be thankful someday that you have spoken. Look, what's that?"

I pointed towards the "Devil's Tooth, " which we could still see risingclearly against the sky. On its very summit was a small flickeringlight, and in my fancy I saw a dark form moving among its rugged peaks. 

"It's a light, " said Ruth, as if glad to change the subject; "what canit mean?"

"It means death, " I said. 

"Death! I don't understand, Roger. "

"Whenever any one sees a light on the 'Devil's Tooth' it means death tosome one belonging to the man or woman who first saw it, " I repliedwith a shudder. 

"But that's only a superstition, " replied Ruth, "surely you will pay noattention to such stories. "

I knew it was only a superstition; but such is the power of educationand association that I could do no other than believe the warning to bereal. Why should it come just now when I was so little able to bearit? Why should a darker cloud blacken my sky than was already there?

I looked again. The light was gone, but surely I saw even in the palemoonlight a dark moving figure. Try as I would to banish the feeling Icould not help fearing that a dread calamity was about to fall on me. I felt ill able to bear it. I had been stunned by the fact of Ruth'slove for Wilfred and her dislike for me. It is true she had not toldme in as many words that she disliked me, or that she loved Wilfredbetter, but I was convinced that she thought him more noble and true, and that there was no hope of her ever coming to love me. 

It was quite dark now, and we were away from the soothing influences ofthe green honeysuckle lane and the rustling of the ripe corn. We werewalking on the top of the cliff and could see the misty outline of thecoast. We walked slowly on for some distance, and then we bothstopped, trying to see if the dark form were a reality or only a fancy. Scarcely had we done so when I felt my arm touched. 

"What be 'ee lookin' for, Maaster Roger, my dear?" said ahalf-wheedling, half-mocking voice. 

I turned and saw Deborah Teague. 

I must confess that seeing her there alone made me feel strangely. Shehad not spoken to me since the night when we met in the cave of evilrepute. Whenever we did chance to meet she looked steadily on theground, never answering any words I might address to her. I did notwonder at this, for I fancied she had some ill-will towards me for notcomplying with her wishes, but I did wonder at her coming now andspeaking to me in this familiar way. Nevertheless, I answered quietly:

"I thought I saw some one on the 'Devil's Tooth, ' but I'm not sure. "

"Ded 'ee zee a light jist now?" she continued. 

"Yes, I did, " I replied. 

"Do 'ee knaw who made the light?"

"No, " I replied. "I have been wondering what it meant. "

"Iss, and you've bin tellin' Miss Ruth 'bout it, aint 'ee, MaasterRoger? I'll tell 'ee what you've zid (seen). You've zid BetseyFraddam, my dear, and you do knaw what that do main. "

"I know what foolish people say it means, " I replied, "but I do notknow what it really means. "

"Do'ant 'ee? But you will. 'Tis nearly come, Maaster Roger. Youdefied and got vexed with they who would kip this from comin'; but 'tiscomin' now!"

"What's coming now?"

"Trewinion's curse, " she screamed. 

"You hag, " I cried, aroused into a passion. "You have ill-wished me. "

"Ill-wished 'ee? No, I ain't, and that you do knaw. We can't ill-wisha eldest son; but the curse es comin', and that we could have kipt off. "

"See there, see there!" she continued, pointing towards the greatforbidding-looking rock, "do 'ee zee the light? I can!"

Again I saw the flickering light on the rock between the great prongs, and my flesh crept with fear. 

"Ted'n too late, is it?" she said. "Come to th' ould plaace to-nightat the same time, and we may do summin. "

"Do you think I'm a fool?" I said. "You cannot gull me with yourstories, for I know your tricks. "

She laughed in my face, revealing gums that were toothless save for oneyellow fang that rested on her lower lip. 

"Oa, I remember it, Maaster Roger, " she said. "Ould Debrah do knaw thecurse. La me zee, how do it go?--

 His power be given to another, And he be crushed by younger brother, Then his son, though born the first, By the people shall be cursed; And for generations three Trewinion's heirs shall cursed be!

The old woman recited these lines glibly, as though they had been oftenon her lips, and she chuckled as she repeated them. 

"Go home, " I said, angrily, "and trouble me no longer with your uglyface. "

"Iss! Iss! I'll go, " she screamed; "but there'll be black days foryou. Ah, yer brother'll be wise if you be'ant. Ah, a Trewiniondisgraced, starvin', ruined!"

I turned savagely towards her, but old as she was she nimbly steppedout of my way, and pointed to the five-pronged rock. 

"The light es gone, and Maaster Roger's hope es gone, unless he do cometo Betsy Fraddam's cave at midnight, and there 'ee'll zee strangethings. "

"You'll suffer for this, Deborah, " I said, almost beside myself. 

"Zee where you're standin', " she screamed, "and think of what you zeedthree years agone, when you went to see the passen. "

I looked, and, to my horror, I remembered that long years before I hadon this very spot seen a figure in white, which had disappeared on theedge of the cliff. 

I was so astonished that for a minute I did not move, and when Irecovered my senses Deborah had gone, although I thought I heard hercroaking, mocking laugh a little distance away. 

"The old woman is mad, Roger, " said Ruth; "let us go home quickly. "

I was nothing loth. I hurried on as though the furies were behind me, while Ruth was evidently as anxious as I to get indoors. 

We had entered the old postern door, and were walking up the driveleading to the house, when a servant met me. 

"Mr. Roger, " he said, anxiously, "you must please come in at once. "

"Why, is anything the matter?"

"Yes, your father has fallen off his horse and is badly hurt. "

A great dread laid hold of me, but I hurried towards his room. 

CHAPTER X

THE GATHERING DARKNESS

As I made my way along the dim corridors, fear gripped me. The weirdform I had seen between the prongs of the "Devil's Tooth" had told meof darkness to come. This accident to my father was the fulfilment ofthe omen. Arrived at the door of my father's bedroom I heard muffledvoices within; but no sooner was my arrival known than I wasimmediately admitted. I found my father propped up in the bed bypillows. There was a ghastly cut upon his face, and his hair wasclotted with blood. Evidently, too, he was suffering great pain, andhe breathed with difficulty. 

No sooner did he see me than he beckoned me to approach. Although Idid not notice them at the time, I found out afterwards that my motherwas there, and Mr. Polperrow, the vicar, together with Mr. Inch and thefamily doctor. 

"Roger!" said my father, hoarsely. 

"Yes, father, " I said, coming up and kneeling by his bedside. 

My presence seemed to soothe him, for he gave evidence of lesssuffering, and a look of peace stole over his face. 

He laid his right hand upon my head fondly. "My eldest-born boy, " hesaid, slowly, "my big-hearted son. I am going to die, Roger, " he said. 

"No, father, no!"

"Yes, Roger, 'twill soon be over. Only a few hours at most. I havemet with an accident, my boy. I was riding from Truro, and got nearhome, when three men, who had been drinking hard at the tavern near by, came out from the hedgeside and frightened Bess; she is a very flightymare, you know. She gave a side leap and threw me. My foot caught inthe stirrup, and I was dragged along the road until I fancy the maretrod on me. "

He said this quite calmly, as though it were a matter of everydayoccurrence. As for me, I could not speak, my heart was nearly burstingwith pain. 

"I want to say a few more things to you before I die, my own boy, " hecontinued, slowly. 

"Say what you will, father, but don't talk of dying. Surely, surely, the doctor here can make you well again. "

"No, no, Roger, no doctor can cure me, " and he looked wistfully intothe doctor's face, who shook his head sadly. Then I felt sure that myfather's words would come true; that soon I should lose him. 

The doctor felt his pulse; then said that what my father wished to tellme must be told quickly. 

"Yes, yes, " said my father. "You, Roger, are my first-born, my ownboy, " and again he lingered lovingly over the words. 

"Your own boy, " I repeated, proudly. 

"You are Trewinion's heir, " he continued, "the master of all theTrewinion lands. You remember what I told you years ago, my boy?"

"Yes, father. "

"Ever remember them, Roger. Be careful. "

"I will, father. "

"There were other things in connexion with the history of our peoplethat I meant to tell you, but I kept putting it off, and now it's toolate; but perhaps it's as well as it is. You will find them out intime. God grant you may be prepared. What I want to say now refers toWilfred, and to Ruth Morton. "

I scarcely breathed. I thought I should hear something that would makeclear my future relation to Ruth, and would clear up the mystery that Ifelt existed in regard to my brother and myself. 

"Wilfred----" he hesitated a moment, and then his eyes sought mymother's. Instantly she came to his side, and looked at him strangely. He heaved a sigh, and continued:

"Wilfred is younger than you, and does not by law inherit any of theTrewinion lands. I have left him money, however, and given him a goodeducation, still----"

"What, dear father?"

"I fancy he thinks himself hardly treated. If you like, Roger, youmight grant him an annuity, " and he named a sum. 

"God is my witness, father, that I'll be true to your wishes; if I can, I'll give him more. "

"That's my own boy, Roger. He will not need it; but it's perhaps best. "

I looked at my mother as he said this. There was a terrible look onher face. I cannot describe it. Mockery, disdain, anger, despair, vindictiveness were all stamped there, but I heeded little; I was toointent on catching my father's every word. 

"With regard to the girls, Roger, they will live on with you. I haveleft them a farm each--bought with the money saved through the years. The rents of these farms have been, and are, accumulating. It's allwritten down, and, when the lawyer comes, you can go into everything. These farms, and the money received from them, will be their weddingportion if they marry; if they don't they will never be in want. "

I could only say, "Yes, father. "

"If it's God's will, " he went on, "Wilfred will succeed Mr. Polperrowand have the Trewinion living, unless anything happens to you, then--then he will be Trewinion's heir. "

Involuntarily I again looked at my mother's face. There was exultingtriumph on it, mingled with a look of terrible hatred. I did not knowwhat it meant, nor could I conjecture. 

"But I hope there's no danger of that, " he continued. "You are myeldest born, my own boy. "

How fondly he repeated these words, and how proud I felt, in spite ofmy grief, as I heard him speak them; and so I again repeated:

"I'm your own boy. "

"There's just one other matter I'm going to speak to you about, " hesaid, after a pause. "I ought to have spoken to you about it before;but I thought there was plenty of time. Mr. Inch, will you come near?"

The old man came up with a stately step. He had always been treatedwith great respect in our house, especially as he was Ruth's valuedfriend, and had much to do with the managing of Ruth's estate. 

"You remember, " went on my father, and I noticed that he spoke withmore difficulty, "the night you saved Ruth?"

"Yes, father. "

"I had been in communication with her father prior to that; indeed, asyou know, we had been friends for years. "

He turned to Mr. Inch when he said this, and went on:

"You know Mr. Morton's wish with regard to Ruth, Mr. Inch; he told youbefore he died all about it?"

"Yes, " said Mr. Inch, "and it was mentioned in his will. "

I looked again at my mother. There was a stony look upon her face. Itwas ghastly to see. 

"Yes, to be sure, " said my father, "it was mentioned in the will. Whatwas his lifelong wish, Roger, was also mine. His desire and mine was, and is, that our families should be united, that you should wed Ruth. "

In spite of the tragic circumstances, my heart gave a wild leap forjoy! Ruth, my darling, my life, would be mine! It was her father'swish, and she, I was sure, would be faithful to his least desire. Icould bear anything now!

"Will you do this, Roger?"

"Gladly, if Ruth will, father, " I said huskily. 

"Forgive me for interposing, " said Mr. Inch, "but you have not exactlystated the true conditions of Mr. Morton's will. "

"In what way?" asked my father. 

"What Mr. Morton stated in his will was that he desired his daughterRuth to marry the heir of the Trewinion estate, so that not only mightthe families be united, but the estates also be joined. "

"Well, is not Roger the heir of the Trewinion lands?"

"Yes, but you mentioned just now the possibility of anything happeningto your elder son, then, of course, your second son would take hisplace. "

"Yes, yes. Of course, of course, " said my father, wearily. 

"Does Ruth know about her father's wish?" I asked. 

"No, not yet, " replied Mr. Inch, "he thought it best that it should bekept from her until she reached her twenty-first birthday, unlessnecessity arose for her being told. No such necessity has arisen, andhence she remains in ignorance of the arrangement that was made betweenher father and Mr. Trewinion. "

"Everything else I have stated in my will, " said my father, "and allthings are arranged in due form. Roger, my boy, you will try and betrue to the Trewinion's name?"

"God helping me, I will, " I said, "but, father, have you anything tosay about my mother?"

"Your mother!" he repeated, vacantly. "Ah, yes, of course, she willlive on here--unless--but that is all arranged. You need not worryabout her. "

Inexperienced as I was, I could not help thinking that this wasstrange. Why should my mother's welfare be dismissed in such acareless way? I could not understand matters. Perhaps, however, everything was privately arranged, and my father did not care to speakbefore those who were outside our family circle. 

I looked at my mother again, but this time her face told no story. Evidently, I was to know nothing about her future, at any rate, for thepresent. 

After this my father grew weaker rapidly, and although he suffered butlittle pain we knew that his life was fast ebbing away. 

What I felt as I sat and watched I cannot describe, for he desired meto remain to the end. Nor will I try and write about the farewellbetween him and Wilfred, and my sisters, and Ruth. Such scenes are notto be written about; they cannot be. Even now that solemn hour comesback to me, and I try to realise, as I tried to realise then, that myfather's spirit went to be with God. 

Oh, this mystery of death! It surrounds us all, and yet we understandit not. There we stood talking with him, who was soon to be no morewith us--and we knew it. What would become of his spirit? We did notknow, we could only hope. Would father become nothing, or would helive on? I could not realise the fact of his death then. I can barelydo so now. For one hour my father talked to us. His brain thought, his tongue spoke, his soul felt, the next--he was gone; and yet he wasnot gone. He lay there, the father I had embraced, and yet he did notlie there. The body could not love, and my father _did_ love me. 

After we had sat some time in silence, Mr. Polperrow spoke to myfather. He asked him if he felt himself safe for the next world; butfather answered him not. 

"You have always been a good churchman, " continued Mr. Polperrow, "andhave always been regular in partaking of the Holy Communion. "

My father smiled, I thought sadly, and then he beckoned to me again. He looked as though he had something to tell me--at least, I thoughtso--and I put my ear close to his mouth. He was now very weak, andspoke with difficulty; but I thought I caught the words:

"Be careful. "

I thought he referred to the legend about the curse and assured himthat I would be careful, but he did not seem satisfied. 

"Beware of----" he said, and seemed to hesitate before pronouncing theword that would make the sentence complete. He looked round the roomuntil his eyes rested on the place where my mother and Wilfred stood, then he sighed deeply. 

"I will beware of everything wrong, " I said, in trying to lead his mindfrom difficulty or doubt. "You are sure everything is well with you. No vestige of the curse remains with you. "

He looked at me strangely, then a smile lit up his face and a new lightbeamed from his eyes. 

"There is no curse, " he said. "God is love. "

These were his last words. Soon after his soul took its flight intothe unseen. 

Then I went out into the night alone. One by one the events of the dayflashed through my mind, until I was sick and dizzy. 

I was terribly excited; but beneath the excitement was a dull, achingpain. For hours I walked the headland and tried to realise that myfather was dead, that I should hear his voice no more; but realisationwas impossible. I had seen him ride away in the morning, a handsome, robust, man in the prime of life, and now----. 

In my grief for him everything else had for the time been forgotten. Everything had been dispelled by this great calamity, and what washardest of all to bear was that I was not sure that my fatherwas--somewhere. I could not think of him as being in hell. I couldnot think of God, father, and hell at the same time, but was heanywhere?

"Father, " I cried, "let me know that you are somewhere! Let me hearyou speak, if only a word; only to know that all is well. "

The night was very still. Not a breath of wind stirred, the harvestmoon was just sinking into the sea, and the water was all aglow withits light. But I heard no voice. Even the sea made no noise, so stillwere its waters. 

"Ah!" I cried, "my father is gone, for ever gone, and I am cursed withthe curse of my people. "

Was it fancy? Was it the voice of man or the voice of God that I heardin answer to my despairing cry? Fancy it could not be, for it was pastmidnight and I stood alone on the great headland. Surely God spoke tome, for there, alone in the silence, I heard my father's last wordsrepeated. How they came I know not, but this I know, in tones sweeterthan thought can fancy came the glorious message, "There is no curse, God is love. "

After that I was able to think and connect, link by link, the events ofthe evening. 

And all this was but the twilight which told of the coming night. 

CHAPTER XI

THE CALL TO RENOUNCE

 Whereat Siddartha turned, And lo! the moon shone by the crab! the stars In that same silver order long foretold Stood in range to say, "This is the right!--Choose thou The way of greatness or the way of good; To reign a King of Kings, or wander lone, Crownless, and homeless that the world be helped. " --_The Light of Asia. _

After this I went back to my room, and tried to realise the trueposition of matters. One by one I thought over the events of the day, and tried to understand their purport. "There's Providence in the fallof a sparrow, " said Hamlet, and I, being to a certain extent a believerin this, fancied that everything through which I had gone was anessential part of the drama of my life. 

First, there was Ruth's preference for Wilfred and her dislike for me. Well, I must bear that. Besides, I was not sure. It is always thefunction of a true-hearted woman to speak well of the absent one, especially if he be maligned. I would not yet allow myself to bedowncast. 

Then there was the light on the great rock, the rock of evil repute, the rock that lured vessels to their destruction. I thought again andagain of this. Then there was the appearance of Deborah Teague, whotold me the light foreboded evil, while the weird dark form between theprongs told the same story. On other occasions I might have laughed atall this; but that terrible calamity following so soon after thewarning impressed me strangely. 

Yet what connexion could these dark omens have with the death of myfather? What link was there between evil women and one of the purestand best of men. Clearer than all omens and louder than evil words wasmy father's last message to me, a message repeated by the voice ofHeaven, "There is no curse; God is Love. "

Thus when daylight came, I was calm, and although I had passed asleepless night I was not altogether unrefreshed. 

Three weary days followed, and then the funeral. Of that time I havenot much to say. I was mostly alone, except when I was obliged toattend to the business which now devolved upon me, though I declaredthat nothing of importance should be dealt with until after my father'sburial. 

From the members of the family I received only kindness. My mothersaid nothing that could hurt my feelings; indeed, she seemedconsiderate and at times almost gentle. Wilfred, too, was more likethe Wilfred of olden times when we were on good terms with each other. There was no change in my sisters. They always loved me, and were morethan usually loving, while Ruth was the comforting, cheering influenceof the house. Never until now did I realize the sweetness of hernature, or her power to cheer and help others when her own heart wasalmost breaking. 

I could not do much; but in my clumsy way I tried to make them all feelmy father's loss less. 

And thus the time passed until my father was laid in the old familyvault, and we returned to our old house on the cliff. Then we cameback to the hard material things of life. We had to listen to father'slast will and testament, and hear his latest wishes. All the familygathered in the library, together with Mr. Inch, Ruth, our solicitor, who also attended to the legal matters of Ruth's estate, Mr. Tremain, the doctor, and Mr. Polperrow, the vicar. 

I need not here state the terms of the will: they have already beenhinted at. Everything that a loving father could devise for thewelfare of his children my father had done. 

Not a word was spoken when the lawyer's voice ceased. If Wilfred wasdiscontented he said nothing at the time, and my sisters were tooovercome with grief to trouble about what money was left them. Nosooner had the will been read, however, than Mr. Inch spoke. 

"It seems to me that this is the time for the wishes of Mr. Morton andMr. Trewinion to be made known, " he said. 

I began to tremble violently, while Ruth evidently wondered what wascoming. 

The lawyer complied very graciously with Mr. Inch's request. "Thisseems to be the right time, " he said. 

I could not help thinking that the matter had been arranged beforehand, especially when Mr. Tremain produced a certain document and began toread therefrom. 

The words he read were very plain and distinct. They stated that itwas the wish of Mr. Morton that his daughter Ruth should in due timemarry the heir of the Trewinion estate, and while he did not enforce itas a condition of her becoming his sole heiress, he still trusted thathis daughter's love for him would lead her to obedience. After thisthe lawyer went on to say that on the night of his death my father hadreiterated the same wish. 

When he had finished reading and speaking I looked at Ruth. Her facewas pale as death, and I saw that she was terribly moved. Therevelation had come to her as a great shock, and I could not helpseeing that a look of anger and disgust flashed from her eyes. 

"My father wish that I should marry Roger!" she exclaimed, huskily. "Never! It cannot be!"

My heart sank like lead; but no further word was spoken. Soon thefamily conclave broke up, and we adjourned to the dining-hall. 

I felt very strange, sitting at the head of the table in my father'schair, and for a time was almost overcome; but I rallied presently, andduring the dinner was quietly thinking what was best to do. Althoughthe head of the family, I felt I was quite alone. Everything told methat all in the house, excepting, perhaps my sisters, were in leaguewith my mother against me. 

I made up my mind, however, that I would not speak for three days toRuth concerning her father's wish, and that then I would, if I dared, say the words my heart was burning to make known. 

Nothing worthy of mention passed during the dinner-hour, butafterwards, having occasion to go into the library, I found Ruth alone. Instantly I wanted to refer to what had been said concerning us. Myblood rushed madly to my head and my hands trembled. 

I do not know, but I think she saw what was in my mind, for she turnedaway her face and walked toward the window. 

"Ruth, " I said, "why do you go away from me?"

She began to sob violently. 

"Ruth, " I continued, "something must grieve you to make you cry thus. Is it because of what has been said about us? If so, do not grieve anymore. I will never ask you to do what would give you pain. "

Her sorrow was terrible to see. Was it because of me that her griefwas so bitter?

"Don't give way so, " I went on. "Shall I leave you alone? I am sure Ido not wish to give you any trouble. After our walk the other night Idetermined I would never say another word to hurt your feelings, andI'll be true to my determination. I did not mean to speak about thewill for some time, but perhaps it would be better if I were to tellyou now. Ruth, it is the dearest wish of my life that we should fulfilour fathers' wish in this matter. I have loved you ever since--sincethat terrible night, when you first came, but I never realized it untilthe day that Wilfred came home from Oxford. Then I was nearly mad withjealousy. I am afraid I have been very rude to you since, but it wasbecause I love you so, for Ruth, I would do anything to make you happy. "

Still she sat leaning forward on a table, her head buried in her hands, and sobbing as though her heart would break. 

"It hurts me to hear you cry so, " I said, "and I can see now why it is. But cheer up, Ruth. I will not speak of this any more. I will neverask you to obey your father's will. You shall not have the pain oflinking your life to mine. I love you too well for that. God blessyou, Ruth. I will try and find out what will make you happy, and thenyou shall see how I love you; for I will do all in my power to give youwhat you want. "

She held up her head. There was an expression of thankfulness on herface; a look of intense relief, as though a burden was taken away. 

I knew my fate then; and while it gave me joy to give her one minute'spleasure, yet it was agony to think that the promise of my absenceshould be the cause of it. So great indeed was the pain that I couldnot bear it, and stumbled blindly out. In spite of the fact that whenI got into the hall I thought I heard her calling "Roger" I rushed awayto the cliffs, whither I always fled in my hours of trouble. 

But the events of the day were not yet at an end. As I stood alonelooking at the sea I saw a great cloud rising in the northern sky. Soon I knew we should be enveloped in it and feel its darkness. Inlike manner was there a cloud, darker than all the rest, rising in thesky of my life. What it was I could not say; but I felt its coining, and I shuddered. "Coming events cast their shadows before, " says theold adage, and looking backward I can see how true it was in this case. 

Aimlessly I wandered on while the evening shadows gathered around, andthe sea sobbed its sad song, telling me of the storm that was surelycoming. As chance or fate would have it, I passed by the cottage ofold Deborah Teague, and there in the grey twilight I saw her, withMally Udy, quietly smoking. They looked up at my approach, but spokenot. A low chuckle escaped both of them, however, but I had no heartto speak to them. Still, their gruesome appearance added to the darkfeelings that possessed me, and the dark shadows became more real. 

At length I made my way back to the house, and although I was itslawful owner, and although every inch of land for a long distancearound was mine, I felt that I was a stranger and an interloper. Itwas cold, too, cold as a vault, and as I passed along, the stone pavedhall made a clanking noise which echoed through the silent rooms. Iheard the wind howling too, and the sea began to roar, and when thiswas so there was always a ghostly, weird feeling about our old greyhouse. 

As if drawn on by a spell, I made my way to the library, and onarriving there found my mother sitting alone. 

"I have been waiting for you, Roger, " said my mother quietly. "I feltthere were some things about which I ought to speak to-night, and sowould not retire until I saw you. "

"And what about the girls, mother?" I said. "Where are they, and whereis Wilfred?"

"They are all gone to bed. It has been a terrible day for them all, especially for Ruth, and so I sent them off. Besides, we must speakalone to-night. "

"Speak alone, mother? I thought everything was settled. I am weary, and desire no business to-night. I have had much to do for three days, and have more to do to-morrow. I must rest. "

"There is such a thing as duty as well as pleasure, " said my motherseverely. "You are now Trewinion's lord, and surely it is your duty tocare about the happiness of others. Besides, a mother should ever beable to command her son?"

"Just so, mother, " I said wearily. "Tell me what you wish, and I willdo my best to obey you. "

"Roger, " she said in an altered tone, "you have had the reputation ofbeing kind-hearted and generous. I know you have often thought me hardupon you; but if I have been so, it was only from the desire to makeyou gentle as well as generous. "

I looked upon her in surprise, and in spite of my sorrow my heartbounded with hope. Perhaps my father's death had destroyed all hardfeelings, and now I should know the meaning of a mother's love. 

"Mother, " I said, "I have been rough and harsh. I'll try to be abetter son, and perhaps we may be happy in the future. "

A sharp spasm, as if of pain, crossed her face, but she spoke naturally. 

"It may be, " she went on, "that what I shall say may hurt you, but Ionly want to be a kind, loving mother. "

My heart warmed more than ever. "I am sure that is your desire, mother, " I said. 

She was silent for a minute, and again I saw the look of of pain whichcrossed her face. 

"Roger, " she burst out, "what I have to say nearly kills me, " and sheburst into a flood of tears. 

I went to her side and soothed her. 

"Don't grieve, mother, " I said, "and don't say anything that will giveyou pain. "

"No, no, it's not that, " she said, and then cried out, "I can't tellhim, I can't. "

"Don't, mother, " I cried. "Wait until you are stronger, and then tellme. These few days have been terrible for you. I have been thinkingtoo much about myself. I have been remembering that I have lost myfather, but have forgotten that you have lost your husband. I knowit's terrible, mother, but dear father is happy now, and Wilfred and Iwill take care of you. "

At the mention of Wilfred's name her face changed. A look ofdetermination came upon her face, and her hands clenched nervously. 

"Roger, " she said, "I am calm now, and hard as it is to tell you I willdo so. "

I sat down before her, wondering what was coming. 

"You remember the night of your--your father's--death?"

"Yes, mother. "

"He said it was his wish, and the wish of Mr. Morton that you shouldwed Ruth. "

"Yes, " I said, my heart beating violently. 

"Roger, that must never be!"

"Why?"

I spoke harshly, for my heart became hard as a stone, and yet it seemedto grow too big for my bosom. 

"Because, " she answered, her voice trembling as she did so, "sheloathes, shudders at the thought of marrying you. "

"How dare you say this?" I cried angrily, and yet I knew her words weretrue. Ruth's face had told me the same story only that very evening. 

"If you wish to drive her mad, kill her, murder her!" went on mymother, "ask her to do as her father wishes. "

"What is there in me to drive her mad, or to murder her?" I cried. "Ihave always been kind to her. "

"Nothing, nothing, Roger. She loves you as a brother. You have beenvery good to her. None of us forget that twice you saved her life. "

"Then why do you say she loathes me?"

"Can you not see what I mean? She does not loathe you as a brother;but she loathes the thought of your being her husband, and were you toinsist on a marriage, you would kill her!"

"Why? You say she loves me as a brother; why, then, should the otherthought be so terribly abhorrent? Could she not in time learn to giveme more than a brother's love?"

"Never!"

"Why?"

"Because she loves another!"

"Another! Who?"

"Can you not guess?"

Guess! Ah, yes; I could indeed. Had I not seen it for weeks? Mymother need not tell me more. I knew perfectly well. 

"Surely you have seen that they have been lovers from childhood, " shewent on. "She has been all in all to him, while--well, you must haveseen how she regarded him. He did not speak to her about it, however, until he came home from Oxford, and then, on the day of his arrival, hetold her what he had felt for years. "

"And she?"

"She told him--that--what in short he had been longing to hear, and, although we knew it not, they became betrothed. "

It was what I had thought, it did not surprise me, and yet I felt sickand giddy. It was some time before I could speak, and then I couldonly stammer out:

"And she promised to be his wife?"

My mother nodded. 

No words can describe what I felt, for never until then did I realisehow I loved her, or what pain it was for me to lose her. 

"Do you love Ruth very much, Roger?" asked mother. 

"Love her!" I cried, "love her! I would die for her. "

"And she loves Wilfred, and would never be happy away from him. "

I fought it down after a while; crushed all my envy, jealousy, andhatred--for hate did possess me for a time--and then turned to mymother again. 

"Let Ruth and Wilfred be happy, " I said, "I shall put in no claim, herhappiness is more important than mine. "

"They cannot, " said my mother. 

"Cannot!" I cried. "Why?"

"Because it was her father's wish that she should marry Trewinion'sheir, and she will do it, though she dies the next day. "

"I do not understand. "

"You know how much she has ever thought of her father. No one I eversaw loved a parent, or a parent's memory, as much as she loved herfather's. And now, although she would have to sacrifice everythingdear to her heart, she will be true to his wish. "

"But I will not have it so. I will not call for the sacrifice. "

"Then you are hindering her father's wish from being fulfilled, and youwill still be keeping Ruth and Wilfred apart. "

"But what can I do?"

My mother was silent. 

Then I saw her meaning. My very existence was the great evil. I wasTrewinion's heir, whom her father wished her to marry, and yet shehated the thought of it; while she could not marry the man she lovedbecause of her father's will. Meanwhile she was suffering a terribletorture--and I was causing it. 

I tried to look at the whole matter fairly and boldly. What were thealternatives? I was Roger Trewinion's eldest son, and if I allowed myfather's and Mr. Morton's will to be carried out, I doomed my darlingto a loathsome life--a living death, while, though I should attain theobject most dear to me, I should live in hell, the hell of being with awoman who loved another man. If I refused to marry her, things wouldbe nearly as bad. I should still be dooming her to misery; she wouldnot marry my brother, I should never be free from the thought that Iwas keeping others from happiness, while the two houses of Trewinionand Morton would not be united. 

Slowly it came at first! Then the full meaning of the thought flashedupon me! I could not do it, I could not! And yet it was the only way. 

Renounce my name, my possessions, my identity! Go away and neverreturn!

That was the alternative, the only way by which the houses could beunited, the only way Ruth could be happy. 

"I see what you mean, mother, " I cried out at last, "but I must havetime, I cannot decide in a moment. I must speak to Ruth, to Wilfred. "

"Why speak to Ruth? You will only give her more pain. You spoke thisafternoon. Why cause her to bear more than she is already bearing?"

Ruth had told her, then, and doubtless told her, too, what were herfeelings towards Wilfred! I saw the truth, the force of her words, andyet it was very hard. 

"I must think, mother, " I said. "I know you love Wilfred the better; Iknow you think him far more fit to be the head of the house than I; youthink I ought to make the sacrifice, but I must have time to think. "

"How long, Roger? The day after to-morrow Ruth leaves Trewinion Manor. "

"Leave! Why?"

"Need you ask? She cannot wait here in the house with the man shethinks she has to marry, when the thought of such a thing is terrible. "

I was driving Ruth away then. Not only was I giving her pain andsorrow, but because of me she was going to leave the only home whereinshe could be happy. It was true she could return to her own home, which had been kept in repair, but I knew she did not intend goingthere until she came of age. 

"She does not wish to be with me longer than she thinks she is forcedby her father's will?" I said. 

"She knows she is not expected to marry you until she is twenty-one. That will not be for some time, and so she is going away. "

This was hardest of all to bear, it drove me to madness. Herdetestation of me was so great that she determined to shun me. 

"Just one word more, mother. Have you spoken to me because of Ruth'sdesire, or with her sanction?"

A strange look flashed across my mother's face; then she said, "Roger, never think I can answer that question. "

My brain seemed on fire, and I could not tell what to do, I could notdecide. I simply rushed out of the room saying, "You will soon know. "

I made my way to my room upstairs, and in passing along a corridor Isaw a light in Mr. Inch's room. Immediately I knocked at his door, andon receiving permission, entered. I found him busy with a lot ofpapers. 

"Is it correct that you and Miss Morton are going to leave us, Mr. Inch?" I said. 

He bowed, and said, quietly but distinctly, "It is so decided. "

"Might I ask the reason for this abrupt departure?" I said. "I haveheard nothing about it until to-night. "

He looked at me for a moment steadily; then he said, "It is not for me to say; surely you should know that it is next toimpossible for her to remain here now. "

He also had told me in words as plain as words could tell what shefelt. I must think, think alone. I found my way to my bedroom, but mymind would not work there. I must get out under the broad sky, whereall was free. So again I left the house, went away towards the highestpoint on the headland, where, hundreds of feet below, the waves werelashing themselves into foam as they broke upon the great rugged rocks. 

CHAPTER XII

NIGHT

"And Esau hated Jacob. . . . And Esau said in his heart, the days ofmourning for my father are at hand; then will I slay my brotherJacob. "--_The Book of Genesis. _

It did not rain, but the wind blew a wild hurricane. Now and then itseemed to cease, and I could hear a kind of moaning sound which the seamade, but again it came as though it would sweep away the great rocksthat grimly defied the fury of the elements. I did not mind this, everything accorded with my feelings. I found ease in breasting thestorm, I breathed more freely when the wind blew its loudest. 

By and by the thunders began to roar and the lightnings to flash, stillno rain fell, so I did not mind. 

But it was terrible to be alone on such a night, and with such aproblem to solve. For hours I think I was mad. I am sure that in myfrenzy my voice could be heard above the wind and wave. Nothing, however, made me forget what lay before me. The future ever hauntedme, and turned the thunderings of the wave into derisive mockinglaughter. 

Now and then I would stand and look at the old house, which I coulddimly see in the stormlight, and when I did so it became dearer thanever to me. It was the home of my fathers, the place wherein they haddied, and my heart clave unto it. I felt proud of my name--proud thatI was born the representative of my family, and to give it up seemedlike pulling at my heart-strings. 

And thus I was tempted in the night; I would maintain my position asTrewinion's heir. I would wed Ruth. I would brave everything andcarry out the wish of my father. Ruth did not love me now, but shemight learn to love me in time, besides, I could not give her up. Iloved her--loved her supremely. All the strength of my nature, mouldedlargely by wild surroundings and an uncultured people, was given toher. I did not love tamely. It was no tender passion I felt, it was amad, passionate adoration. I can call it nothing less. Fer her Icould brave danger, difficulty, death; but I could not give her up. 

And I would not!

Why should I? I was master, I would remain so. I would maintain myrights. I would let Wilfred know that I was the elder brother and hethe younger. And Ruth should be mine. My father wished it, and so didhers, and so I would claim her. I would take my father's place andreign righteously. I would be a pattern to the neighbouring gentry, and my name should be respected far and wide. This was what everyeldest son of my race save one had done--that is, they had all claimedtheir position, and so would I. Wilfred's happiness! Well, Wilfredhad always defied me and treated me as an inferior. Wilfred must takecare of himself; he must be thankful that I gave him the annuity myfather had mentioned. I could not help being born the first; besides, what had I to do with his happiness? What right had he to seek to winRuth's affections? Doubtless he who was so friendly with Mr. Inchwould know her father's wish. Thus he must have acted like a sneak tohave sought what could not be fairly given to him. And Ruth! Did Inot love her, would I not humour her every wish, grant her everydesire, and devote my life to make her happy?

And mother?

She had never cared for me, never trusted me, never treated me as ason, never told me of her intentions. I did not know, indeed, if shewere my mother. Why, then, should I trouble about her? If need be shecould go and live with Wilfred; at any rate, I would be Trewinion'slord, and maintain my rights. 

Then the other side presented itself. If this were carried out whatwould be the result? I should see Ruth suffering, pining day by day. She would loathe my presence, she would shudder at my embrace. By myselfishness I should wreck her life. I should be her murderer. Thenwhat happiness should I have? Could I be happy while the woman I lovedwas being cursed by my presence?

Then I put it this way: If I went away--not that I should, butconsidering it suppositiously merely--if I went away, what would be theresult? Wilfred would claim to be master; he would be Trewinion'sheir; he would wed Ruth, who would gladly join her life to his--forwere they not affianced lovers?--my mother would rejoice, and all wouldbe happy. My black shadow would be taken from their lives, and theycould for ever live in the sunshine. 

The picture seemed bright, and for a moment the thought of it gave mepleasure. Then I remembered that I should be leaving Ruth for ever; Ishould be leaving my old home for ever; I should not die in the greatchamber where all my ancestors had died. I should be a wanderer, avagrant, homeless and friendless. 

Besides, what could I do? Strong and hardy I was, as a man could wellbe, but I had no trade or profession. That is the curse which befallseldest sons who expect fortunes; if anything happens to them they haveno profession on which to rely. What did I know? Something of themanagement of an estate, but not enough for a steward, nor would anyonehire a steward without an assurance as to his abilities and pastcareer. I was not fit for that, and if I went away the name of RogerTrewinion must be sunk for ever, so that I could not seek such a post. The only thing I could say I was fit for was the post of a sailor. IfI went away I must try and get a place in a trading vessel. 

I thought of all this, but would not confess to myself that I wasseriously thinking of leaving my home, the sacrifice was too great. 

Meanwhile the storm was raging, and flakes of foam were blown againstmy face. Then I felt some raindrops falling, and the sky became morelowering. 

I would go in and go to bed, and on the morrow I would speak to Ruth. 

Then came the moment of final struggle. Ruth was leaving the housebecause of me, because she loathed the thought of being my wife, andbecause she wished to be free from me as long as she could. 

This thought took away much of my interest in home, as well as mydesire to remain among the scenes of my early childhood. It chilledthose warm feelings of attachment for the homestead, and for the peoplewho had become a part of my life. 

Ruth leave because of me! And yet it was because of Ruth I wanted tostay. I would look at the matter again. I wanted to make Ruth happy;but what was the course I must take in order to do that? The greathindrance to her happiness was myself. I was the black cloud that hidher sun. If I did not exist her joy would be complete, for then shewould be free to wed the man she loved. 

And while I was fighting this battle the storm beat furiously upon me. Never shall I forget how the wind blew, nor how the waves became moreand more maddened. Dimly I could see the great mountains of waters, aswith thundering roars they hurled themselves on the rockbound coast andbecame churned into foam. How stern and pitiless nature was, howcareless of all human joys or sorrows! It was well I had my dyingfather's assurance that God was love, or I could never have believed itthen. To me there was an almighty devil ruling the universe. A beingwho hated us, and sought our destruction. 

I was however glad of the storm. It helped me. I had to resist, toexert myself. It gave play to my active nature; it kept me fromsuccumbing to the dark cloud of sorrow in which I was enveloped. 

I know not how, nor can I tell the exact moment when the decision wasmade; but, in the end, I decided to leave the old homestead and to giveRuth happiness. I claim no virtue for my act. There was not much init after all. I should never be happy if I remained at home; nay, Trewinion Manor would be hell to me, while spectres that I shouldconstantly be raising would haunt my life. Besides, I might find somerelief away. I would go, I would roam the world all over, and, perhaps, away from the scene of my misery, I should find peace. Myheart was breaking, and it was not worth while for me to add misery tothat which was already felt by those by whom I was surrounded. 

It may be said by those who read this that my act was one of greatself-denial; but if it was it brought none of that peace and inwardsatisfaction which are said to come from such deeds. My misery, ifpossible, became more intense, and the storm seemed to mock me withshrieks and howls of derision. 

With a great weight on my heart I crept back to the house, and slowlywent to my room. When should I go?

"To-morrow" was the response of my weaker nature. "Get a good night'srest, make an impressive scene before Ruth, and go away with a flourishof trumpets. " But that would not do. I doubt whether I could have hadthe heart to go away in the daylight if I saw Ruth near me. Besides, Idid not want to go away openly; I would leave in secret, when no eyeshould see me, and when no one should be able to trace me. When shouldI go?

"Now!"

That was the answer of my stronger and sterner nature. Leave in thenight, alone, and at once. Never look at the sweet face of Elizabethand Katherine, never be weakened by the beauty of Ruth, never be shakenin my resolve by the patronising pride of Wilfred or the unloving lookof my mother. Delay would be dangerous. On the one hand wereinfluences leading me to stay, by making me defiant, hard, and bitter;on the other, by making me weak and yielding. I would go at once then. 

Where?

That mattered not for the time. I would leave the house at once, anddecide my course when once away and alone. 

Should I let any one know what had become of me, should I write aletter to Ruth, or Wilfred, or mother? I dared not. To do that wouldweaken me at once. Still, it would be better that I should let themall know that I was gone away, never to return. 

I clothed myself in a strong plain suit of clothes, which I had usedwhen shooting on our boggy rough moors, put twenty guineas in mypocket, and then went down into the library again. I did not lookaround me and think of the hours I had spent there. If I did Ruthcould not be happy, for I should not have sufficient courage to removemy black shadow from her life. I went to the writing desk and began totry to say good-bye. That I found I could not do, so I simply wrotethe words:

"From this time Roger Trewinion is no more. He ceases to be so thatWilfred can be Trewinion's heir and Ruth can be happy. Let Wilfred dohis duty, or Roger Trewinion may come to life again. "

That was all, and after I had written it I felt more calm. Then I tooka stout oak stick, on which was engraven my father's name, and onewhich he usually took when out walking and went away from the house, inmy heart bidding it good-bye for ever. 

I walked rapidly northwards, keeping close to the cliffs. It was nowearly morning, but the sun had not yet risen. The black clouds hadpassed away, but the sea forgot not its anger, and still brokefuriously upon the shore. 

I must have walked five miles when I saw signs of day. The sky changedfrom nearly black into a sombre grey, while the sea became like untothe sky. The birds creeping from their night resting-places, began tosing, and from the farms by which I passed I heard the sound of thecocks crowing. 

On I tramped, anxious to get away from the neighbourhood where I wasknown, the light becoming clearer and clearer as I went, until I couldsee the outline of the coast. Then before me I saw a great juttingheadland, similar to the one on which our house was built, thence Ishould be able to see my old home. 

By the time I got there it was broad day, I think about five o'clock, and wistfully I scanned the coast. Yes, there was Trewinion clear andplain, although miles away. The grey, rugged walls stood outdistinctly and striking, while the tower lifted its head proudly intothe sky. And this home I had given up. Back from it stretched broadacres that were mine, and these I had renounced for a woman. 

"Treat her well, Wilfred, or by the Creator of us both you shall cursethe day on which you were born. "

I muttered this between my closed teeth, for at that moment I knew Ihated him. 

Then I remembered the Trewinion's curse. 

Do I believe in supernatural agencies, in witchcraft? Am I prey tosuperstitious fancies? I cannot answer. The unseen world is so linkedwith the seen that they are but one world. I cannot tell where to drawthe line between natural and supernatural. To me the two are one. Butthis I know; the moment I realised that I hated Wilfred, I was cursedwith a terrible curse. Evil passions surged within me, I planned darkdeeds, murder did not seem hateful, and hell far worse than that whichI had felt when I had been struggling on the cliff was now my doom. 

A bottomless pit! I was in it. A pit of slavery to evil desire, ofsavage joy which was not joy, at the thought of evil. This was where Iwas. 

He, the miserable sneak, had robbed me of my love, my all. And yet Icould not go back. The house was mine, the lands were mine, yet Icould not claim them. I was bound, yet I could not see the fetterswhich chained me. 

Does a curse like unto mine follow the footsteps of men who hate, ordoes the Trewinion race stand alone. Be that as it may, I felt cursed, the clear fountains of my manhood were gone. Roger Trewinion was moredemon than man. For hatred poisons the soul. 

And yet I loved Ruth. This, I think, was the power that kept me fromgoing back and doing evil, and yet this love did not make me hate theless. Nay, it made hatred more intense. 

Long I stood alone in the grey morning, watching the bleak house thatstood in the distance, while the sea moaned and sobbed miserably, as ifto add another feeling to the misery of my heart. I seemed rivetedthere. I looked at the five prongs of the "Devil's Tooth" like oneentranced, and thought of their associations. I saw the place where Ihad saved Ruth, when she had fallen from the cliffs. I fancied Idetected the place where the witches' cave stood, and I remembered allthat had been said. 

"Ah, " I cried, "Deborah Teague is indeed a true prophet. Dark omenshave a meaning. I am indeed homeless, friendless, forsaken, and theTrewinion curse is come. I go now, never to return, while my love isgiven to another, and my power is taken by my younger brother. Yetseemingly I have done nothing to merit this. "

For a time I was mad. I shook my fist and called down curses uponWilfred and my mother. I prayed that they should never have rest orjoy, and that the ghost of my father should haunt them. And yet Icould give no real reason for this, only that my heart was black. 

I felt I must go on. I must get farther away from the place where mylife had been spent; so I gave one look more, one long hungering lookthat was full of agony, and as at last I turned my eyes away, my heartstrings seemed to snap. 

Then I set my teeth together, clasped my stick firmly, and, withlowering brow and a black heart, trudged wearily northward. 

CHAPTER XIII

A WANDERER

I went on heedlessly for a mile or so. I was stunned, and felt strangeand giddy; but by and by I felt I must come to such decision in regardto my course. So I struck into the main road, and continued my journeynorthward. By this time I felt the warmth and brightness of the day. The sun was now clear of the horizon, and revealed the glitteringdewdrops that hung on grass and flower. The majestic hills rose oneither side of me, the waving cornfields presented a rich and beautifulappearance. 

The glories of nature did not soften me, however. My heart was stillhard with hatred and disappointment, and I was too busy with my sadthoughts to decide what to do, or to what town to steer. 

Presently a man met me, the first I had seen since I started. He was afarm labourer, taking his oxen to the fields to plough, and on lookingat my watch I found that I had been walking for about six hours, andthat I must be at least twenty miles from home. The man touched hishat, although I was sure he did not know me. Evidently my dress wasnot that of a workman. If I was to get a place as a workman, I mustdress like one. 

"Where does this road lead to?" I asked of the man. 

"Dun knaw, zur, I'm sure, but they do zay as 'ow it do go toWaadbrudge. "

"Wadebridge, eh? Do you know how far it is away?"

"No, zur, I doan't, for I never bin more'n vive mile away fromTreloggas, which is my home, zur, but my maaster es a bit of atraveller, zur. He've bin to Bodmun, and he do zay as 'ow Waadbrudgees fifteen mile on. "

"Fifteen miles. Is it a good road?"

"Oi, iss, zur. You do git into the turnpike dreckly (directly), andthen the roads sa smoove as a booard. "

"And is there a publichouse anywhere near?"

"Iss, zur, 'bout three mile on thurs a kiddley-wink (beershop) that dobelong to Tommy Dain, he as can raise the devil, you do knaw, zur. "

This helped me to decide what to do. Wadebridge was a little seaport, and there I should perhaps get on board a vessel that would take meright away from home. Then, perhaps, when I was away on the rollingseas, I should forget my disappointments, and find ease from thegnawing, bitter hatred that had gripped my heart. 

Inspired by this thought I hurried on rapidly. I was beginning to feelhungry and faint after my long walk, so was glad to know of the inn, even although Tommy Dean, the landlord, possessed such powers. 

Arrived there I had a good breakfast of ham and eggs, after which Tommybrought out a tankard of ale. I was about to drink it when Ireflected. But for drink my father's horse would not have beenfrightened and I should not now have been fatherless. But for drink Ishould not now be homeless and friendless. Drink had deprived me of mydearest, best friend, and I would have none of it. So much did thisimpress me at the time that I made up my mind never to touch intoxicantagain; at any rate, until I saw sufficient reason to alter my mind. 

After breakfast I felt that the twelve miles which lay before me wereas nothing. In three hours, if nothing happened, I should be inWadebridge. 

Nothing of importance happened on the way. Milestone after milestone Ipassed wearily. I had little object or hope in life. I had sacrificedmy all for the sake of others, and it brought me no happiness. When Ireached Wadebridge my interest was somewhat aroused. My knowledge oftowns was very limited. I had only paid two or three visits to ourcounty towns, which are, to say the least of them, small and to someextent uninteresting. Twice I had been to Truro, and once to Falmouth;thus when I came to Wadebridge, I was somewhat excited. Such a thingseems strange to me now, when I remember the facts of the case. Wadebridge was only a little village composed of one street, which leddown to the river Wade, over which a bridge is built, hence the name ofthe port. 

There is a curious story among the Wadebridge people as to how theirbridge was built. Many years ago there was a ferry across the river, but it was the frequent custom of farmers to ride their horses or drivetheir cattle across it when the tide was low, but often men and beastswere lost in the quicksands formed in the rising tide. After one sadaccident of this sort, the Rev. Mr. Lovebone, the vicar of Wadebridge, determined that a bridge should be built, and after great pains andstruggling it was finished with seventeen arches of stone. But inspite of their great labour, disappointment and defeat followed intheir track, for pier after pier was lost in the sands. A "fairstructure" was to be seen in the evening, but in the morning nothingwas left. Mr. Lovebone was ready to give up in despair; but one nighthe dreamed that an angel came with a flock of sheep, that he shearedthem, let the wool fall in to the water, and speedily built the bridgeon the wool. Then the holy man awoke with a new idea. He appealed tothe farmers, who sent him all the wool they had, which was put intosacks; these were placed thickly on the sands, and on these piers werebuilt. Thus the wisdom of the angel of the dream was manifest, for thebridge remains to this day. 

The harbour is not very wide or large at Wadebridge, and vessels oflarge dimensions can only come in when the tide is high. 

The first thing I did on my arrival was to go to a small shop whereseafaring apparel was sold. The owner looked at me curiously, as Iasked for a general rig out, but showed me what I wanted nevertheless. I was not long in making a bargain, and then asked for permission tochange my attire. 

"Ain't bin doin' nothin' wrong, I hope?" he said. 

"Not to my knowledge, " I replied. 

"Cause you do'ant look much like a chap as is used to wearin' asailor's clothes, " he said. 

"No, " I answered. "What do I look like, then?"

He looked at my hands, then at my shooting suit, and again at my face, and replied slowly:

"Why, you do look look like a passen's son as hev got into trouble andbe now runnin' away; ed'n that about right, now?"

"Not exactly, " I said, "but I'm sure you'll allow me to change myclothes, won't you?"

He gave an unwilling consent at length, and I confess that, when I hadput on a rough suit of seaman's clothes, I hardly knew myself. I wentacross the bridge to the little village of Egloshayle, and walkedtowards Slades Bridge, which lay in the direction of Bodmin. 

"Now, " I said to myself, "you are no longer Roger Trewinion, but acommon fisherman, who is desirous of going to sea. Forget the past. Forget that you are the heir to a fine estate, forget that you havegiven up all for love. "

But I could not do this. True, there was a sense in which all seemedlike a dream, so that the past was misty; but above all was the fact ofmy great and burning love for Ruth, a love so intense as to lead me tosacrifice everything that she might be happy with the man whom sheloved, and whom I hated, although he was my brother. 

The thought was madness. My sacrifice seemed madness, and once Ithought of going back again. That, however, was soon banished, foralthough my coming away might be the action of one who did not knowwhat he was doing, to go back would be to strike despair and anguishinto the heart of Ruth, and that would be hell for me. 

No, I had fought that battle. I had made Ruth happy. I should soonbecome as nothing to them, and thus Wilfred and my mother would havetheir own way, and be joyous because I was no more. That wassomething, and yet I was sure that Wilfred had schemed for such an end. What definite reason I had for this I could not tell, but I was sure ofit, and I hated him. True, I had gone away freely, and yet I had beendriven away; things had been so arranged that I could not stay to be askeleton at the feast, a hindrance to all joy. 

I ceased to think about it at length, and tried to bring myself intoharmony with my surroundings. What should I call myself? I could notask for a sailor's position as Roger Trewinion, and yet I did not liketo give up my name. Finally I decided to call myself RichardTretheway. It was a very common name, and by this name I should stillretain my initials. Where I came from was a matter of littleimportance; there were lots of little fishing villages all the way downthe coast; so I settled on one near my old home, and made my way to theriverside where some vessels lay. The captain of one of them struck myattention in a minute. He stood quietly watching some men who wereloading the boat with corn. He was not swearing or bullying as some ofthe others were, and I determined to speak to him. 

"And what may you want, my lad?" he said as I went up to him. 

"A job, sir, " I said, with a strong Cornish accent. 

He looked at me keenly. "What can you do?" he said. 

I named the work I could do on a ship. 

"Let's have a look at your hands?" he said. 

I showed him my hands. They were not so soft as those of most youngmen in my position. I had done an amount of harvest work, and thus, with constantly rowing and engaging in other physical exercises, theywere almost as hard as an ordinary seaman's. 

"What have you been brought up to?" he asked. 

"Fishing. "

"That's a lie. You are neither a fisherman nor a sailor. "

I hung my head. 

"Yes, you may hang your head, my lad, for you are not what you seem. "

Again in a clumsy way I repeated the duties of both, but the captainwould not listen. 

"Yes, yes, my young gentleman, you may know about these things as wellas I do, but that don't deceive me. You were never brought up to work, you weren't; but you are a strong likely chap for all that. "

I tried again to assure him that I could do a sailor's work well. 

"Now, look here, young man, " he said, "I'm an oldish chap, and haveseen a bit of the world, and have learnt to read a little of men andthings, and although you are not what you want to pass off to be I likeyour looks. What you mean by being here I don't know; but that's notmy business, and I do want a likely young fellow like you. Answer mesquare and fair. Are you seeking to get on this vessel because you'vedone anything wrong, are you in fear of anybody or anything, and isanybody after you now?"

I liked his plain question, and I answered plainly. 

"I have done nothing wrong, sir, " I said; "I am not afraid of anythingor anybody, and no one is after me now. "

He looked at me straight in the eyes, but I met his gaze fearlessly. 

"What's your name, my lad?"

"Richard Tretheway. "

"That is not your real name?"

"No. "

"You are sure you are doing nothing wrong in concealing your true name?Be perfectly honest. "

"I am doing nothing wrong. I am doing what's right. "

"I'll take you, " he said. 

I thanked him. 

"Look you, " he said, "expect no favours; you must do your work fair andsquare like the rest. We go from here to Padstow, then on to Falmouth, from there to Plymouth, then to London. From there, if you behavewell, I'll take you to France and down the Mediterranean. Do what youhave to do here quickly. It's high tide at six this evening, and thenwe shall sail. "

"Thank you, " I said; "I have nothing to do, but I'll go and get somedinner and then come straight back. "

As I said this I turned to go; but the captain laughed and called meback. 

"Look you, Tretheway, " he said, "if I hadn't known you were a greenhornto this kind of thing before I should know it now. You haven't saidanything about wages. "

"I'll leave that to you, " I said confusedly, and then went back to thetown. 

I shall not dwell on my experience that evening, nor, indeed, shall Ispeak of many of my adventures, as I want to relate only those facts ofmy history which are vitally concerned with the name I bear, with itsassociations and legends. 

The next afternoon we sailed past my old home. Long before we drewnear it, I saw the grey tower on the great weather-beaten cliff, andwith beating heart I stood on the deck and watched while we drew nearerand nearer. I strained my eyes to catch sight of any of my family, butno one could be seen. Closer and closer we came, the great prongs ofthe "Devil's Tooth" standing out more clearly as we swept on. 

Did anyone there think of me? I wondered. Yes, they would naturally dothat. My mother would think of me, and be glad I was gone, for herfavourite boy would be master. Wilfred would think of me, and wonderif I should come back, and, perhaps, dread the thought of such a thinghappening. My sisters would think of me lovingly, and wonder what hadbecome of Roger. And Ruth--I dared not think of her. 

Who had seen my letter? I wondered. My mother was the most likely oneto do so, or Wilfred, and they would treasure up the words I hadwritten, they would weigh well their purport. But would it be shown toRuth or to my sisters?

My dear, dear old home, how I loved it! It was there I was born, itwas there my father had died. So near was I to it, and yet so far. Besides, it was mine no longer. I had given it up to make the woman Iloved happy, and to keep it from being hell to me. 

My thoughts were rudely checked. Two persons stood together on theheadland, the headland on which my home stood, and they were evidentlylooking at the ship in which I was sailing. Who were they? I strainedmy eyes to see. They looked like Wilfred and---- I dared not think ofit, the thought was maddening. I would not believe that Ruth was outwalking with Wilfred so soon after my departure, and on the very daywhen she was reported to be leaving for her home. 

Yet why not? By this time they had, perhaps, publicly announcedthemselves as lovers; and yet they dare not. My departure could notyet be regarded as a settled thing, and my mother had told me that Ruthwould be true to her father's wish. As yet I must be regarded amongthem as Trewinion's heir, and thus she would look upon me as her futurehusband. How, then, could she be encouraging the man she loved, whenshe would regard it as a sin to do so?

But was it she, was it Wilfred?

The captain's glass was near me, and I seized it. I brought it to theright focus. I saw them plainly, Ruth and Wilfred standing side byside, with her hand resting on his arm. There could be no mistake. 

Yes, she would know all by this time; she would know that I had givenup everything for her happiness, and she had accepted it without apang. She had come out alone with the man who had stepped into myplace. 

It was base ingratitude. She was not worthy the sacrifice. I wouldleave the vessel at Falmouth, go home, and destroy their plans; I wouldclaim my own again. As for Wilfred, I would whip him like a dog, anddrive him from the place. 

I know my thoughts were confused, and unreasonable, but I think I wasmad, for I stamped my foot in my rage. 

I heard a noise behind me and turned round. The captain stood coollywatching me. Instantly, my position burst upon me, and I was confused. 

"Well, Richard Tretheway, " he said, "and what have you been using myglass for?"

"It is a fine old headland, sir, and I wanted to see it. "

"Ay, and it's a fine old house on the cliff, eh. Whom does it belongto?"

I was silent. 

"Ah, well, lad, I will not pry into your secrets; sometime, perhaps, you may want to tell me, " and he walked away. 

Still I watched, while the couple on the cliff became more and moreindistinct, and the old grey tower seemed to melt away in the steelysky, and as it did so my feelings softened, for I felt I was biddinggood-bye to it for ever. My love for Ruth began to exert its power, and although I felt bitter, the thought of going back to wreck herhappiness was repugnant. 

On, on we swept, until Ruth and Wilfred could no longer be seen, andthe old house was hidden by the prongs of the "Devil's Tooth. " Then Ibroke down and sobbed like a child. Now, indeed, I was alone andwithout a friend. There was no brightness in my sky, no hope for thefuture. Truly I was sad at heart. With that the words of old DeborahTeague came back to me. 

"Mind, mind Trewinion's curse, tes comin', tes comin'. I see MaasterRoger homeless, friendless, despised, disgraced. Mind, Maaster Roger, mind. "

CHAPTER XIV

"A HOME ON THE ROLLING DEEP"

I found Luke Miller, the captain of the boat, to be kind and friendly. Not that he took any notice of me for several days. He did not. Butwhen we arrived at Plymouth, and were away from the crew, he began totalk kindly to me. 

"Tretheway, " he said, "I don't know anything about you, and it may bethat in talking freely to you I am in one sense taking a liberty. Maybe you have been brought up well; fact, I'm sure you have. But allthat's no business of mine. What I want to say is this, I like you. Idaren't show it at sea, as there'd be jealousy. At the same time, ifever I can show my real friendship to you, or if ever you want afriend, you know where to come. "

I thanked him warmly. 

"There's just another thing to say, lad. You've had a quiet time onboard yet, for the men ain't known what to make of you, but they beginto feel their way. They fancies you are a swell and a sneak, so keepyour weather eye open. The best men of the crew are leaving here, too, and I am afraid I shall have to pick up a rough lot, so, as I say, keepa sharp look out. "

I found this advice very much to the point a day or two after. Notthat I minded much. I was too terribly bitter towards almosteverything to care what happened to me. Still, when we were fairly outat sea from Plymouth, and the men began to play practical jokes uponme, I remembered the captain's words and remained cool. 

There were one or two discontented men on board who took it into theirheads that I had a doubtful past, and, moreover, that I had a secret inmy life of the discovery of which I was in constant fear. 

It was afternoon, and the men having nothing special to do werestanding lazily around. I was making my way to the bowsprit, and waswalking rather rapidly, when the biggest bully on the boat put out hisfoot and threw me head foremost. This was received with a loud guffawof derisive laughter, and the man who had done it was highlycomplimented on his achievement. I took no notice, however, doing thatwhich I had set out to do. This, instead of lessening their dislikefor me, increased it, and for days after I was subjected to many pettyannoyances. A few weeks before, I should not have stood it. I waswild and passionate then, full of life and strength, now I was sobitter that I scarcely felt any interest in anything. Besides that, the men were so low and brutal that I disliked encountering them. 

At last I went to them and asked what I had done to make themconstantly wish to annoy me. 

"Because tha'art a coward and a snaik, " said one. 

"A spy and a tell-tale, " said another. 

"Cause you think yourself too good to mix with we, who are a mightysight better than you, " said another. 

"Or else you're afraid we'll find out something of your dirty ways, "said two or three together. 

I felt sick and sad at heart. To mix with these men was bad enough, tocome into such relationship with them as would lead to a brawl wasworse. 

"I'm not a coward, a spy, a sneak or a tell-tale, " I said quietly. "Idon't think myself too good to mix with any honest man, and I'm notafraid of your finding out anything about me. "

With that the bully placed himself before me and spat in my face. In amoment my calmness and self-control were gone, and in a minute more wewere engaged in a hand-to-hand fight. The devil that my hatred for mybrother had aroused now showed itself, and I fought with all the furyof a demon. My opponent was as big as I, and as strong, or would havebeen had he not abused his strength by evil habits; and in addition tothis, he knew many tricks of fighting unknown to me. Minute afterminute we fought, he more for the love of fighting than for hatred forme, I with a mad heart, and with every evil passion aroused. If atthat moment I could in no other way have beaten him save by selling mysoul to the devil, I am sure I should not have hesitated to make thebargain. I had allowed an evil passion to enter my heart, and it hadpoisoned my whole being. Thus it was that I determined to die ratherthan be conquered. 

A determined man can do almost anything. A mad man is supernaturallystrong. I was both. Thus, at length, by a trick of wrestling, and ablow that would have felled an ox, I laid him bruised, bleeding andsenseless on the deck. This did not satisfy me. I turned to anotherwho had been prominent in seeking to quarrel and laid him beside thefirst. Then like a mad bull I rushed upon the rest. 

I don't know what happened after that, save that there was a terriblescuffle, and I found myself struggling in the grasp of brawny arms, after which I felt a heavy stunning blow which rendered me oblivious toall my surroundings. 

When I awoke to consciousness I was in chains, and the captain by myside. 

"Well, Tretheway, " said he, "and this is the way you carry on?"

I was silent. 

"I took you for a decent lad, perhaps my better in many things, andyet, here I find you fightin' like th' old Nick himself. "

"What have I done?" I said sulkily. 

"Done! Why disabled two men, unfitted them for work for a week atleast, knocked two more into a cocked hat, and would have killed 'em ifthe whole crew hadn't seized you and took you below here and put you inirons!"

"Somebody has struck me, " I said. "I've a wound on my head. "

"A chap said he were obliged to do that or you'd a bin the death ofhim. "

"Captain, " I said, "you know the truth about this, and that I sought noquarrel; but now, now--if one of them dares to trifle with me I'll----"

"You won't have the chance, Tretheway, my boy. Every man jack of 'emdeclares they will not sail with you. They've all given warnin' unlessyou are dropped at the first port. "

"Why?"

"Because they say you are not a man but a devil. They say yer eyeswere red, and they see a flame a comin' from yer mouth as you fought, and although they're a bad lot I hain't got time to get a fresh crew tosuit you, so you must either be left in irons until we get to London, or be dropped at Dover. "

"I'll go to London, " I said; "I may stand a better chance there. "

The captain left me, and I was again alone. I did not feel at allexcited, but a kind of despair possessed me. I was not at allsurprised or annoyed at the men. I felt that they were right. Ishould have done harm to them had I remained at liberty. I was not fitto have my irons knocked off. The spirit of hatred possessed me, hatred that was dark and murderous, and hatred is the devil. 

I spoke to no one during the time I remained on the vessel. I spokenot when the irons were knocked off my feet and hands by the captain. I climbed to the deck, and saw the men huddled together as if in fear, and I stood and watched them; then I looked and saw we were anchored ina great tidal river, and that London, great London, was on either sideof me. Once it would have aroused all the enthusiasm and excitement ofmy nature. Now I was unmoved. I was about to leave the boat, when athought struck me and I turned to the captain. 

"Captain Luke Miller, " I said, "you know the whole meaning and historyof this matter, and that I picked no quarrel. I don't grumble; but Iwant you to stretch a point for me. Can you give me a certificate asan able-bodied seaman?"

He did not speak, but put a piece of paper in my hand, and pointed tothe board by which I was to leave the boat. I gave him a look ofthankfulness and left. 

I tramped through the crowded London streets unheedingly. I did notrealise the seething surging, masses of people; I forgot that I was inthe greatest city of the world, the centre of thought, and power, andlearning. 

At length I came to London Bridge. I did not know it at the time, butI have since learned that such was the fact. I stood for a littlewhile wondering at the great crowds of busy people, and then I lookedat the broad, dirty river. A large vessel was being unloaded of hercargo, and I went straight to the captain. 

I asked him for a place among the crew. He looked at me suspiciouslyand then said, "Who was your last captain?"

I told him. 

"Let's have a look at your papers, " he said. 

Although I had not looked at what Captain Luke Miller had given me, Ihanded the certificate to this skipper, who read it carefully. 

"I'll engage you, " he said, giving me back my certificate. 

I looked at it afterwards and found the reason of my ready acceptance. Luke Miller had proved a friend indeed, and had spoken very highly ofme. 

In a few days we set sail, during which time I remained on board. Ihad no desire to see London; I wished to be away on the broad, deep sea. 

I found that we were bound for a long voyage, and that the captain hadgot together a very motley crew. This did not trouble me; in fact, Iwas glad on both scores. The journey would take me away--I cared notwhere, the savagery of the crew accorded with my own wild feelings. They were a poor, degraded set, weak physically, and with the stamp ofvillainy upon them. Their conversation was degrading, their everythought was steeped with filth. I soon made myself a sort ofunofficial captain among them, and by a strong will held them insubjection. 

I dropped my pen at the last word, for I found myself beginning todescribe in detail my seafaring experience, and I must not do that. Itis not necessary, nor will it be interesting. One or two prominentfacts I shall relate, the rest must be imagined. 

I sailed with this captain and this crew nearly twelve months, then Ileft them, and for the next seven years I went from ship to ship andfrom crew to crew. 

I need not have done so, but I determined not to set my foot on Englishground. I wished to keep away from every association and thought of mypast life. There is not much that I need describe. I had the usualexperience of seafaring men. I experienced cold, hunger, and storm;but was indifferent to them. I do not think I had any interest inlife. Often death stared me in the face, and I did not flinch. Ishould not have minded had the hand of death struck me down. Indeed, if I ever wished for anything it was that I should die, and still Iremained strong, and hearty, and well. 

But my love for Ruth died not, my hatred for Wilfred was as strong asit was when I had seen him with Ruth on the great headland watching theship in which I sailed. Every fact of my early life, and of myrelations with Ruth, was as real and vivid as when I had lived at home. The eight years I had been away had destroyed neither my memory, nor myfeelings. 

It was a wild life I lived. I had no friends, no ties, nothing, infact, to refine or purify. The hatred in my heart kept me from beingloved by my associates, and nothing kept me from sinking to the lowestdepths of degradation but my love for Ruth. Often, when I was on thepoint of yielding to the low and the depraved, my love for her savedme. That was a pure force in my life, and it was my salvation. 

Often did I think of the old home life. Often did I imagine what mymother and the rest would be doing. Sometimes I asked myself if everthey thought of me, or if they had any idea as to what had become ofme. I tried to comfort myself by believing that they thought about me, or that they mourned me as dead. Then I hoped that they wished mealive and waited for my home-coming; but that hope was speedilydispelled by the remembrance of my last interview with Ruth and mymother. 

Strange to say, I never once longed to return home; never once desiredthat my feet should stand on the spongy turf on the great headland;never wanted to speak to any one of the family. I felt that I was abanished man, homeless and friendless. 

It may be that some will say the "Trewinion's curse" is merely an idletale. I know not; this I know: that ever since I realised my hatredfor Wilfred, on the morning of my departure, I lived a new life, a lifethat was all dark. The skies were black, the earth was black, and, worst of all, my heart was black. Never since then had I known realjoy or gladness. A terrible despair gnawed at my heart, and this Icarried everywhere. I had thought that by going away from the scenesof my childhood I should escape my sorrow. I was foolish to think so. I discovered that sorrow comes not so much from the outward; it comesfrom the heart, from the man himself. Wherever I went I could notshake off the shadow of self, and thus I was never free from sorrow andpain. 

At the end of eight years there was a change in my life. I was nowmore than thirty. My softer feelings, all but one, had gone. I was ashard and callous as the cliffs which surround the Cornish coast. Atthis time we were sailing the Indian seas, and our vessel was ladenwith a valuable cargo. The men were lazily standing around on thedeck, while the captain stood with his glass to his eye eagerlyscanning a distant object. 

We took no notice for a while, then it was whispered along the deckthat the captain had seen a curious, suspicious-looking craft that wasevidently bearing down upon us. This whisper was soon confirmed by thefact that our vessel's course was altered, and every stitch of canvasthat she could carry was hoisted. In spite of this, however, we sawthat the other boat was gaining rapidly upon us, and must in a very fewhours overtake us. 

I saw that a great fear had seized the crew, for there was but littledoubt that our pursuer was a pirate. For myself I did not care. I wasindifferent to life, and it mattered not what became of me. It was, however, in my nature to fight for the side on which I found myself, solike the rest I prepared for the struggle. When the two vessels werenear each other our pursuer hoisted a black flag, then we were sure ofwhat would follow. 

Never was a crew braver than ours; every man fought for dear life, butwe were no match for the assailants. They were double our number andarmed to the teeth. At length we were overpowered and bound. Thevessel was no longer in our possession, and the company to which shebelonged would have to suffer a great loss. It was not that of whichwe were thinking, however. Every man was in terrible dread as to whathis own future would be. 

The captain of the pirate ship was one of the most striking men I eversaw. He was, perhaps, forty years of age, and was of Spanishextraction. His eyes and hair were as black as the raven's wing, andhis skin was of a dark, olive colour. His crew were likewiseSpaniards, plainly outlaws of the worst character. But I noticed thatthey all loved and obeyed their chief. I did not wonder at theirobeying him, his personality was so strong, but I did wonder at theirloving him. He seemed stern, harsh, and violent. 

After we had all been bound, I saw the captain of the pirate shipconsulting with his men; evidently they were deciding what to do withus, and there seemed some difference of opinion. Presently the captaininspected us one by one. We were by no means as fine a crew as ourconquerors, not simply in numbers, but in kind. We were made up ofdifferent nationalities, and I was the only Englishman among the wholenumber. There were Greeks, Arabs, Turks, and one or two Austriansamong us. The captain and the mates were all Greeks, and the shipbelonged to a Greek company. Most of the men were small in bone, andwhile strong and wiry, were by no means striking in appearance. 

After he had looked at us some time, there was another consultation, and at length they decided what to do, and we saw that preparationswere being made. Eagerly I scanned the sea, but not a sail was insight, no help was near, and careless as I had been about danger myheart felt heavy. 

With blanched faces our men saw a plank which reached a few yards intothe sea, placed on the vessel's deck, and with beating hearts we sawthe officers of our ship bound. 

I will not try and describe the scene. Hard and rough as I was, it wasterrible to see men killed in cold blood. In vain the captain pleadedthat he had a wife and little ones. No mercy was shown, and, althoughwe dreaded the sight, our eyes were drawn, as if by a magnet, to seethe men who had commanded us walking to their death. Even now theirawful shrieks as they fell into the sea ring in my ears. And we wereall bound, unable to help them, and waiting for a similar doom. 

Then we saw what caused us common sailors hope. A good-sized boat waslowered, and provisions were placed in it; and one by one, the men weretold to board it, This they gladly did, until I was left alone. I waspreparing to follow, when the captain came up to me. He took a longlook at me and then spoke to his men. I had picked up enough ofSpanish during the years I had been away to understand an ordinaryconversation, so I followed every word he said. His opinion was that Ishould make a splendid addition to their crew, and that it was a pity Ishould be lost to them. 

"Your name?" he said to me abruptly. 

"Richard Tretheway!"

"Ah, you are English?"

"Yes. "

"How long since you were there?"

"Eight years. "

"Why have you kept away from your home so long?"

"For private reasons. "

"Ah!" he said eagerly, and he looked at me keenly. "One of us, eh?Stand up, Richard Tretheway. "

I stood up. Tall as he was, I was taller, and broader too, for thatpart. The Trewinions have ever been a race of giants. 

"What do you wish us to do with you?" he said at length. 

"I'm not anxious. "

"Then you don't mind walking the plank?"

"It won't matter much. I must die some time, and I've not much to livefor. "

The captain's eyes sparkled. 

"What do you think of us?" he said at length. 

I looked at our crew, who were evidently to be sent away to die. Ithought of our officers who had only a few minutes before beencondemned to death, and I said savagely:

"I think you are bloodthirsty villains--demons out of hell. "

He laughed a mirthless, cruel laugh, while the crew demanded my death. 

"What would you do if you had us in your power?"

"Hang you. "

"Why?"

"To rid the earth of such a crew. "

"Let him walk the plank, " cried the men. 

But the captain was more forbearing. 

"Why, look you, " he said, "you are just as bad as we. We sent yourofficers to Heaven or to the other place for our safety, while youwould send us there for the safety of the world. Who has the mostreason on his side?"

I was silent at this, and the captain went on: "You fought like a madbull when we were boarding you. There are three men down under lyinghalf dead because of you. "

"Serve them right, " I said, "I was defending the party attacked, and, while I don't care a fig for my own life, I would fight to defend thosewho do. "

"Would you like to be one of us?" said the captain. 

"What would you have me do?"

"Be a king on the high seas. "

In spite of everything I felt a liking for the captain. There was afascinating power about him, and I wanted to know about him. My eightyears on the wave had hardened me, and my hatred had dulled my higherfeelings. 

"Look you, " he went on, "we are not wholly bad. We have freed hundredsof slaves, and while we live by plunder we only take from the strongand the rich. Only last week we set at liberty two hundred slaves whowould have been sold to a living death. "

He went on speaking in this strain until I was less bitter towards him, but I said:

"All this does not prove that you are not cold-blooded villains. Theofficers of my ship are now dead through you. Your robbery is bad. Your murder is worse. "

Again the men clamoured; but again the captain went on:

"What, are we worse than your English man-of-war vessels? You go towar with a country, you take her vessels, you kill her men, and yourcrews divide the booty. What, are we worse? Nay, we are better!"

I did not attempt to argue further with him, being maddened at thethought of my captain being killed, and of the wife and children whowould have to bewail his loss. So instead of answering him I burstinto a torrent of abuse. 

"Tie his hands and blindfold him, " cried the captain savagely. 

In a few seconds this was done!

They placed me on the plank. 

"Walk!" cried the captain. 

In a second a vision of my old home flashed before me, but I walkedstraight on. I felt the warp of the plank, and knew I was nearing theend!

Step by step I walked, then my foot went into space, and in a minutemore I fell bound into the deep sea, hearing the savage yell of thepirate crew as I did so!

CHAPTER XV

THE VOICE OF THE SOUL

I had scarcely fallen into the water when I felt myself drawn up again. Unknown to me a rope had been fastened around me, and in another minuteI stood upon the deck. 

"Good!" cried the captain. "You stood the test well, and are just thesort of fellow we want. " I looked at him in astonishment. 

"Yes, you may look, " he said, "but at heart you are one of us. I cansee both discontent and defiance in your eyes, your face. You are outof love with the world, and when you know my history you'll sympathisewith me, and won't take much persuading to become one of our crew. "

I was thereupon taken to a cabin, where I was supplied with dryclothes, after which the captain came and spoke to me. Evidently, hewas desirous of my becoming one of his allies, for without hesitationhe told me the history of his life and his reasons for leading such alife. 

I will not repeat his story at length. I do not wish to recall indetail the terrible things he related. True to his Spanish nature, hehated intensely and loved intensely. When quite a boy he had loved, and his love had been returned. There were months of happiness, then arich nobleman appeared, and, fascinated by the beauty of his betrothedsought to win her from him. Defeated in this, he used force. Thenfollowed a succession of plots and cunning intrigue, and, finally, through the avarice and greed of his love's father, through socialinfluence, and through devilry of the worst kind, he, the piratecaptain, was robbed of the one for whom he would have died, while shebecame disgraced and ruined. Then his passion burned to white heat, and revenge was his one object. He did not rest until he had killedhis rival, after which he was obliged to fly. Others who had beenengaged with him in the fray left with him, and formed themselves intoa band, which gradually grew until they became what they were. 

I shall never forget the terrible intensity with which he told hisstory; how at one time his eyeballs were red as fire, and at anotherhis hands trembled with passion; and again, when he told of the beautyof his betrothed, how his voice became gentle, and his eye becamemoist. In spite of everything I could not help sympathising with him, and, afterwards, when he spoke of his buccaneering career andremembered what led him to it I did not wonder. 

Need I tell how, little by little, I fell in with the captain'sproposals and vowed allegiance to him? I can scarcely realise whathappened now; it seems but as a half-forgotten dream; though realenough then. In those days my better nature was dead, or nearly so. Ihad allowed one passion to conquer me, and it had poisoned my wholebeing. I had learnt the meaning of the words of Scripture: "Forwhosoever shall keep the whole law and yet offend in one point, he isguilty of all. " This is more than mere words; it is a principle oflife. One passion corrupts the whole being, degrades the whole man, and thus I, because I entertained hate for my brother, lost my finernature and joined a crew of pirates. 

I will not portray the life we led; how by sheer brute force and willpower I fought my way up until I was next in power to the captainhimself. I could fill a volume in narrating the battles we fought andthe hair-breadth escapes we had, but whoever reads these lines mustimagine for themselves how we dreaded being taken, and how we vowed aterrible vow to die the most awful death rather than be conquered byany vessel, of whatever nationality. Truly it was a wild life, full ofdanger and peril; and yet I was happier in it than I had been foryears. There was freedom on the wide seas, there were interest andexcitement in our constant frays. The life suited my uncouth, ruggednature, and thus for two years I almost forgot my past and lived onlyin the excitement of the present. 

I had been ten years away from home, ten years without ever catchingsight of the British shores. Eight years I had served on tradingvessels of various nationalities, and two years I had been a pirate, when another change came. 

I was sitting one evening alone, watching the setting sun, when I beganto think of my old life. I remembered all the legends of our house andname as vividly as if I had been hearing them during the last tenyears. I thought of my father's warning that I should never leave theTrewinion estate for six months at a time; if I did the race for threegenerations would be cursed, while I should be haunted by dark spiritson my deathbed. I remembered how he told me that if a Trewinion didwhat was unlawful he brought down the vengeance of Heaven. And I hadbeen away ten years; I had become a pirate and was ever under asentence of death. I thought again of old Deborah Teague's warning, ofthe cave full of evil women, and wondered. Then memories of Ruth cameback to me, and I saw her at Trewinion Manor as Wilfred's wife. Iwondered if I should ever see them all again--wondered, and then triedto forget. I became oblivious of the beauty of the setting sun and ofmy surroundings. The ship on which I sailed might be a ship of thefancy for all I knew, for all I knew the crew might be spirits or men. I was back again in my old home, and when at length I was aroused frommy reverie I could not get rid of the impression that I was wanted, needed amongst the scenes of my childhood. 

Presently the captain came near and laid his hand on my shoulder. 

"Tretheway, I am getting tired of this roving life, " he said. 

"So am I, " was my reply. 

"I have been thinking, " he went on, "if there may not be happiness andpeace for me even yet. I have been wondering if I may not return tothe land of my birth, and maybe find someone whom I can love and whocan love me. "

I looked up into his face. There was a soft expression in his eyes, and his lip was tremulous. 

"Perhaps the way may open up soon, " I said. 

"It shall, " he replied, sternly, and walked away. 

Soon after this I turned in. I did not expect to sleep, but no soonerhad my head been placed on the pillow than I fell asleep and dreamed. 

I saw the old home again as plainly as if I were there, and recognisedseveral of the servants. Katherine and Elizabeth I could not see, butmy mother was there, and Wilfred. In my dream I wandered from room toroom. I felt sure that Ruth was in the house, but I could not findher. At length I entered the library. I thought I could seeeverything, and yet I was unseen. It appeared to me that while myspirit was there my body was elsewhere. All my thinking powers weresupernaturally awake, but my body was asleep. 

The room was in darkness, or nearly so, and I thought no one was thereuntil I heard a sigh, and then I saw Ruth. She moved in her chair asif weary. A servant entered bearing a light, and then I saw her face. It was wonderfully changed. It was not that she looked older, but thatshe was so weary and wan. The old joyous light was gone from her eyes, and she was very thin and fragile. 

"Ah!" I thought, "the marriage has not been happy. Perhaps Wilfred hasnot been kind to her; perhaps she has children, and they are sickly. "

I looked at her hand, but could see no wedding ring. Then I heard anoise outside and a whispering, and I saw that her face had a look ofterror upon it, as though she dreaded some great calamity. 

The door opened, and in walked my mother and Wilfred. 

I looked at both their faces and watched their expression. Hers lookedsomewhat haggard and hard; while his was cunning and yet fascinating. 

They sat down beside her, and mother asked her why she looked sotroubled and wan; but she was silent. Then Wilfred spoke to her. 

"Ruth, " he said, "the ten long years have come to an end. You knowyour promise. Think how patiently I have waited, and how I must haveloved you to wait so long. Now, Ruth, let us wed at once, so that wemay fulfil our fathers' wishes. "

Then I looked at her again, and from her eyes tears fell, and on herface was such a look of misery that her enemy, had she one, could nothelp pitying her. 

"You are not Trewinion's heir, " she murmured. 

"How can you say that?" he replied. "Roger is dead, of that we aresure. You know that his body was found a few days after his departure, bruised and battered, 'tis true, but still my mother recognised him, and so did Mr. Inch, and Mr. Polperrow. All believed it was Roger butyou, and so when I asked you to fulfil our fathers' wishes you wouldnot. Then the months and years passed on, and Roger came not; so Ipleaded with you again, and you said if Roger came not within ten yearsof his departure you would believe him dead and wed me. Those tenyears are complete this very night, and I am come again to claim mypromise. "

Then I saw Ruth bury her face in her hands and sob bitterly. 

Again the door opened, and I saw Mr. Inch enter with a roll of papersin his hand. 

"Mr. Inch, " cried Ruth, "will you not be my friend, will you not tellme that this need not be?"

Then I saw Mr. Inch and Wilfred change glances, and the former open hisroll of papers. 

"I am your friend, " he said; "and I am also your father's old servant, and I would see his wishes carried out. "

Then he began to read:--"'I desire my daughter Ruth to dwell in thehouse of my friend, Roger Trewinion, and that she shall be wedded tohis heir, so that the two estates shall be united. And it is my willthat she shall be wedded to him as soon as possible after she comes ofage, and to remain at Trewinion Manor until within a month of thewedding day. Then she shall return to Morton Hall to prepare for themarriage ceremony. ' This is an extract from the will, " he went on, "and I should not be a friend to Miss Ruth if I failed to see thiscarried out. We have waited now many years beyond the time, and ifthis be not done soon the bodies of the dead fathers will rise fromtheir graves to know why their wishes have not been fulfilled. "

Then I heard Ruth speak again. 

"Oh, Roger, Roger, " she said, "why did you go away?"

"Why?" said my mother, "because you drove him. He was mad with lovefor you, and because you scorned him he ended his days. Be careful, or, perchance, you will drive my other son to his death as well. "

At this she looked up to the faces of those in the room with anexpression of dull despair. 

"I will obey my father's will, " she said huskily, "make whatarrangements you choose. "

Then I saw Wilfred move towards her, as if to embrace her; and Ithought I went forward too, as if to hinder him, but Ruth looked up andgave a scream, half of joy, half of fear. 

"Roger is here!" she cried. 

I thought I saw consternation on every face, then all melted away, andI awoke. 

I was lying in my cabin in a pirate vessel, was not at home at all;what I had seen was a mocking dream. And yet all was real. I couldnot believe that I had not been at home, though I knew it could not be. I was away on the broad seas, hundreds of miles from land. Myimagination had been excited, and I had dreamed--that was all. I triedto sleep again, but could not, I was constantly thinking of what I hadseen in my vision. Then I remembered the day of the month and theyear. Yes, ten years ago that very night I had left home. I had notbeen thinking of that, but in spite of everything it had been revealedto me in my dream. Was it a dream, or was it real? Had my spirittravelled home, the spirit that knows no boundary or limits, had I seena vision of what really existed?

Such a thing was without precedent in my experience, and yet why shouldit not be? Our bodies are not ourselves. We are distinct from theflesh, the bone, the sinew, why then might not the spirit have libertyto go home to its early associations?

I could remain in my cabin no longer. I rushed up to the deck, saw twosailors standing at the post of duty. I spoke a word to them, and thenwent towards the forecastle alone. 

The night was as still as death, not a ripple could I see on thewaters. I looked around me, and all was smooth, placid sea. I lookedupwards and saw a cloudless sky, the full moon was almost as bright asthe sun itself, so much so that the stars barely showed themselves. Now and then I could hear the gentle lapping of the water against thevessel's side, but beyond that--nothing. 

I stood alone, minute after minute, thinking. I could not forget mydream, for such I had forced myself to believe it was, when----

What was it I heard?

The cry of a woman! A wail of distress!

My heart seemed ready to burst; but I listened. 

Then I heard words. I heard my own name uttered by a woman' voice!

And I was alone on a vessel, with nothing but men on board, hundreds ofmiles from land, and no other vessel near. 

"Roger! Roger! where are you?" said the voice. 

I answered not, I could not, for my tongue clave to the roof of mymouth, but eagerly I listened. 

"Come to me, Roger! Come to me, or they will kill me!"

It was Ruth's voice, carried by the power of God to me. I was wantedhome. I was sure of it, yet I could make no answer to what I hadheard. For years I had forgotten God, but He had not forgotten me. Hehad revealed Himself in the voice I had heard. He had carried themessage of Ruth's heart to me. I was sure now that there was a God inHeaven, and that He was telling me to frustrate evil. 

Then something told me that all this was fancy, the result of anexcited brain. I had been dreaming, and now I fancied I had heard whatonly existed in a mind half mad. I rushed to one of the sailors. 

"Did you hear a woman's voice, just now?" I said. 

"Woman's voice?" said the man, evidently surprised, "why no, sir!"

Had I been mistaken? Was it all delirium?

Again I strained my ears, and again I heard the voice. 

"Come, Roger, I am all alone. Oh come to me!"

I answered, but whether articulately or no I cannot say; the words Isaid in my heart were, "I am coming, Ruth, I am coming. "

Then it seemed to me that the broad waste of waters reiterated mywords, until away in the far distance, where the sea lost itself in thesky, I could hear them repeated "I am coming, Ruth, I am coming. "

I know that this will seem strange to whoever may read it, but I onlyspeak the truth. Perhaps my sons and my sons' sons may say it wassimply the result of an overwrought mind; but I believe otherwise. 

For hours I walked the deck, but I heard nothing more. I expectednothing. I weighed what I had seen in my dreams, and connected it withwhat I had heard in my waking moments. What did it mean? First myfears said it was but the deceitful words of the devil, who would dragme deeper into sin. But my heart cast that off. I felt that there wasno evil agency at work. Then I thought it was only a dream; but howcould that be? Why should it come that night, exactly ten years fromthe time I had left home, and why should I hear the voice afterwards?And so I came to the conclusion that I had been allowed by God to knowthat I was needed at home. 

The thought gave me new life, new energy. The passion of my hatred wasstunned by some greater passion. If my dream were indeed true, if thevoice were not a mockery, Ruth was not yet married, and she loved me. For hours I lived in blissful ecstasy, the smooth waters were writtenall over with messages of joy, the sky seemed full of the angels of God. 

Then I became possessed of a feverish anxiety to return home. I mustnot lose a minute, but great difficulties lay in the way. I wasthousands of miles from England, and there were no civilised ports wedared enter. Piracy on the high seas is a crime, and so there would begreat difficulty in landing at any port from which I could sail forhome. But the difficulty must be managed somehow. Ruth wanted me, andI would go home. 

I must speak to the captain at once, he could sympathise with me; hewould help me. 

Then I saw a streak of gold shoot across the waters, and soon the seawas flooded with glory. The king of day rose, triumphant, grand. Thenight was over, and I felt the light of day in my heart. 

I turned to the gangway and saw the captain wistfully watching theglowing sea. 

Without hesitation I went to him, and began my story. 

CHAPTER XVI

AFTER LONG YEARS

"I wish to say a few words to you, captain. "

"Say on, Tretheway. "

"I have never told you the history of my life, now I wish to do so. "

He nodded his head as if ready to listen. Accordingly I began, andrelated in some detail the story of my life. He listened attentively;evidently, he was interested. Step by step he followed my narrative, until I came to the previous evening. Then as I told him of the dreamand the call I had heard, his face became pale as death, and heclenched his hand nervously. 

"It is the voice of God, or of the mother of God. You must go, Tretheway, " he said. 

"Yes, I feel I must, and that soon, " I replied. "But how?"

"Last night I told you that I was tired of this life, " he said. "Thismorning I feel I must leave it. I have been a wild, lawless fellow, Tretheway; but I have been more sinned against than sinning, and I wantto go home, where, by gifts to the Church, prayers, and penances Ishall surely receive forgiveness. "

For an hour we talked together. 

It was all settled at length. The vessel should sail under hisdirection with all speed to the coast of France, where we were to makeover the whole cargo and ship to the crew, and then leave it for ever. Accordingly we altered the course of the vessel, and after a few days'fast sailing reached the desired position. Then the captain called thecrew together and appointed officers to command, ordered a boat andprovisions to be lowered, and told them he meant to leave them for ever. 

At first the men demurred, they could never agree under another captainthey declared, but when Salambo (the captain) told them that the vesseland all its belongings were theirs, and that he should make no claimupon it, they became pacified. 

We were now a few miles from land, at the nearest point between Franceand Spain, and we could see the lights of St. Sebastian in thedistance. It wanted but an hour to daybreak, and we wished, ifpossible, to land without attracting any attention. To me this seemedalmost impossible; but the captain was confident, so I trusted him. 

We left the pirate vessel at length, I feeling a great load lifted offmy mind. All the time I had been with the crew I had seemed to breathefoul atmosphere, and when I was once rid of them a new life openedbefore me. We had drifted, perhaps, a mile from the vessel whenSalambo hoisted a small sail, and the wind being favourable we werewafted quickly towards land. This being done, he opened a box, whichhe had taken care should be lowered into the boat, and took from it twocomplete suits of gentlemen's attire. 

"I always like to be ready for emergencies, " he said, coolly. "If wego on shore dressed as we are we shall be objects of suspicionimmediately. "

He changed his clothes, which completely altered his appearance, afterwhich he bade me follow his example. 

"Now, " he said, when I had finished, "you look more like a civilizedman; but there is a pirate's fire in your eye even yet. I don't knowthat I should like having you for an enemy, for I think you would stillmake short work of the man you disliked. "

Involuntarily, I thought of my brother Wilfred, and clenched my handsnervously. Salambo watched me with a curious look on his face, andthen continued:

"But we must get rid of these things, or they will not fit in with mystory when we land. "

"Why, what are you going to say?"

"Say! Why, that I am a Spanish gentleman from Santiago, that you arean English friend of mine, and that we have for a freak come over here. I speak the Spanish language perfectly, of course, while you speak itwith an English accent. Leave all to me. I'll manage it. "

We landed at St. Sebastian in the early moming without difficulty. Thechange in Salambo's clothes had not only altered his appearance, but ithad apparently made a different man of him. He was no longer the wildsea robber, but a refined, courteous gentleman. Instinctively thepeasantry saluted him with respect, and we were soon installed in thebest place of accommodation in the town. 

I was anxious to get away, and feverishly asked him as to my best meansof getting to England. 

"I have been thinking whether we shall ever meet again, " he said, without answering my question. "We have been together nearly twoyears, and we have come to regard each other as friends. Should weever settle down, which I doubt in spite of our desires, I hope weshall be able to meet--meet in peace as brothers. "

"Why not?" I said, boldly and confidently, "nothing would give me morejoy than to welcome you in my old Cornish home. "

"Ah, Señor Trewinion, " he said, for I had told him my true name, "wehave both been away ten years, and when we get to our respectivebirthplaces we shall find things much changed. And--well, my heart issad, and I have many doubts. "

"I feel that my Ruth is alive, " I said, confidently, though my heartsank within me. 

"She may be alive, and yet who knows if she loves you? Ah! Señor, donot build your hopes too high. A woman is for ever a woman, a puzzleto themselves, and an unfathomable mystery to men. "

"Well, I'm going to see if all is well, anyhow, " I said. "What are yougoing to do?"

"Trewinion, I feel I have acted wrongly, " he said. "I came awayleaving my Inez unprotected. The man who stole her from me is dead;but what has become of her I know not. Methinks I never loved herwell, or I should not have left her because of fear of pursuit. Shewas guilty of nothing, and she loved me, and I have left her all theselong years. "

I was silent, for I felt it would be useless to speak. 

"But I shall try to find her, " he went on, "and--who knows?--it may bethat she will forgive me and we shall be happy. I trust so, I pray itmay be so. "

"And if you do, how shall I know?" I said. 

"I have been thinking of this ever since we decided to leave, " hereplied, "and this is the plan I have marked out. You had better gofirst to Bordeaux. From there you will be easily able to get a vesselfor England. I, on the other hand, shall go across The Pyrenees to myhome at Barcelona. If I am alive, this address will find me, " and heput a piece of paper in my hand. 

"Will you be safe there?" I asked. 

"I think so. You know my people are wild and passionate. They easilyforgive such sins as mine when they remember my provocation. Indeed, Ihave known the perpetrators of similar deeds lauded as heroes. My onlythought is, if I shall find Inez--if I do not I shall not care to live;but if I do, the past will be forgotten, and I shall be happy. "

The tears stood in his eyes as he spoke, and then I realised that allhis sinful deeds had not destroyed his heart. 

I left that same afternoon for Bordeaux, while Salambo madepreparations to go to Barcelona, where he hoped to find his Inez. 

In spite of all my eagerness and anxiety it was one month from thenight on which I received my summons home to the time I landed atFalmouth. Without waiting an hour I made preparations to hurry on toTrewinion Manor. I shall never forget my feelings when, after tenyears of absence, I first saw the Cornish cliffs. At one time itseemed as though the past ten years were only a dream, and that I hadnever left Cornwall at all, and again I felt as though my life prior tomy leaving home was an unreality. 

I found a coach at Falmouth that would take me within a few miles of myhome, so I quickly took my place, and then fretted and fumed as weslowly rumbled on. It was towards afternoon when the coach arrived atthe spot where I could be set down, and there with fast beating heart Iwatched the retreating conveyance, while I stood not far from mybirthplace. 

How quiet it was to be sure! There were no houses near, save onelittle wayside cottage and a small farmhouse among the fields. All thefeatures were as familiar as if I had never left them. Hill and dalealike were known to me, I had roamed over them all long years since. All these rich green meadows were mine. I, who had been an alien and awanderer on the face of the earth, was the lawful master of all I saw, and yet nothing was mine, for had I not renounced them long years ago, renounced them for the sake of the woman I loved?

I set out for the old homestead and walked rapidly. Eagerly I passedby every landmark which told me I was nearer home, and when at lastonly one little hillock stood between me and the sight of the placethat was ever dear to me I almost lost control over my actions. 

Up I rushed, heedless of everything, until nothing hid it from my gaze. I was like the old Israelites who travelled towards Jerusalem, andanxiously waited for the last hill to be reached in order that theymight see the place they loved best in the world. 

And this was the place I loved best. There it stood, grey, rugged andstern as in the olden days, its sturdy tower still braving the wind andweather. Long I stood and looked at it. My home! The place where myfather had taught me to love him, the place where he had died, blessingme! Eagerly I watched for signs of life, but I could seen none; allwas silent and lonely. I looked seaward and saw the smooth, glitteringwaters as they played around the base of the "Devil's Tooth;" I watchedthe yellow beach, which sloped up towards the witches' cave; I saw therugged cliffs and the rocks over which I had helped Ruth years before, when Wilfred had left her alone. And, as I stood, memory after memoryflashed through my mind, old sayings came back to me, and scenes whichI had not thought about for years excited my mind, until my whole beingwas moved to the very centre, and in spite of all my hardships andbuffetings I sobbed like a child. 

I was surprised that no signs of life appeared. I looked at the fieldsand saw not a single soul. I looked at the little cove. A few boatswere rocking idly on the waters, but no human being was near. Was theplace deserted? Then I began to think. The day of the week wasMonday, and it was the third Monday in September. Yes, that was thefeast day of Trewinion parish. Yesterday the parish church would becrowded; to-day the parishioners would meet at the Churchtown, wherethere would be great festivities. It was a general holiday for thewhole parish, and the people had congregated on the village green overby the church. 

Still, I expected a few servants would be at home, and mother, and, perchance, Wilfred. He would never mix with the rowdy villagers, as hecalled them, and would probably be in the library following somefavourite literary pursuit. What should I do? Go home and proclaimmyself as Roger Trewinion, owner and master of everything? No, I didnot like to do that--yet I must know how things stood. I must knowabout everything, where Ruth was, and what position she held!

And still I stood gazing on the old house on the cliff until I saw aman come out and slowly saunter down the drive. 

It was Wilfred. 

I started to go forward and speak to him, but stopped immediatelyafter. Long years of foreign travel and passing through dangerousscenes had made me careful. I knew not how I should be received, and Imust not give Wilfred the whip hand of me. No, I would find out whathad happened at home during the intervening years. I would go on tothe village green, and there, perchance, I should see those who knew mein the past, and should give them a chance of recognising me. 

Passing near the church, however, I could not resist the temptation toenter. To an ordinary sightseer, it would doubtless possess smallattraction, but to me who accompanied my father there more than twentyyears before, and where I had received what little religiousinstruction I possessed, it was of more than ordinary interest. Besides, my father was buried beneath the altar steps, and I longed tosee the place again. Accordingly I entered the churchyard, and findingthe church door open, entered the sacred building. Instinctively Ifound my way to the eastern end of the church, and there experiencedone of the strangest sensations of my life. On the wall just above myfather's tomb was a tablet erected to the memory of my father, givingnot only the year of his birth, but the manner of his death. But thiswas not what affected me. I had expected to see some memorial of myfather, but what startled me was the sight of another tabletimmediately beneath it, on which were written these words:--

 SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF

 ROGER TREWINION

 ELDEST SON OF THE ABOVE

 WHO MET HIS DEATH BY DROWNING, AND WHOSE BODY WAS DISCOVERED ON THE SANDS. 

 "_Thy brother shall rise again!_"

 THIS TABLET WAS ERECTED BY HIS LOVING MOTHER AND BROTHER. 

Whether wonder or anger were strongest within me I know not, but bothstrove mightily. For first of all it is a strange experience for anyman to see his own tombstone, and in spite of myself I could not helpshivering. But strong as was this feeling, anger well-nigh overcameit. It seemed to me that both my mother and brother were so eager forme to be dead, that they were glad of any excuse for making me appearso, and I determined that I would understand what it all meant. 

Accordingly I walked towards the village and soon found myself in themidst of about two hundred people, which was regarded as a great crowdin that neighbourhood. In one corner of the green was a wrestlingring, and in another was a group of young folk dancing to the music oftwo or three instruments, which had evidently been specially obtainedfor the occasion. Some very coarse sweetmeats were being sold at thesweet stalls and a general holiday air pervaded the scene. I saw as Icame up that I was curiously regarded. My dress was of foreign make, and I was bronzed by years of exposure. My beard, too, was long, andmy whole appearance was different from those whom the people would belikely to see. Moreover, it was very seldom a stranger visited thatneighbourhood, and thus naturally I was regarded as a sort of curiosity. 

I looked from face to face, but could see no one that I knew. Duringthese years middle-aged men seemed to have grown old, and children tohave sprung into men and women. I made my way towards the wrestlingring, where two youths struggled with each other, while the peoplelooked at them with open mouths. Here I saw two or three farmers whomI knew, but I did not care to enter into conversation. 

It was very strange. I was home, and yet no one knew me. The parishwas called by my name, the church was called Trewinion Church, and yetI, Roger, the oldest male member of the house, was a stranger, andlooked at curiously by the people. Eleven years before I had been atthe feast, and then everyone had paid respect to "Maaster Roger"; butnow, the bronzed, bearded, foreign-looking man, was an alien. 

At length one of the two men who had been wrestling was thrown, andthen I heard a voice which I thought I knew, saying, "That's a feirvall. " It was spoken by the man who had been selected as umpire, andwhen I caught sight of his face I recognised Bill Tregargus, the manwho climbed the "Devil's Tooth" on the stormy night when Ruth wasrescued. I had always remained friendly with Bill up to the time Ileft. I determined I would speak to him. 

As this was the last "hitch" of the day, the ring was broken up, and Isaw Bill going with the rest towards the village alehouse. 

I went up to him and touched him upon the arm. 

"You seem to be a man of some importance here, " I said. 

Bill looked very modest, but nodded. 

"I want to have a little talk with some respectable man in the parish, "I said: "one who knows the worth of land and one who knows the people. "

"Wal, I think as 'ow I knaws everybody, " said Bill; "I've bin ere oalmy life, and don't owe nobody nothin'. I've got three booats, and adaicent little farm. "

"I can quite fancy that, " I said, "by the way people regard you. Isyour farm your own land now, or do you rent it?"

"Nobody farms their own land in this ere parish, " replied Bill, "it dooal belong to Squire Trewinion, but who be you and what do you want toknaw about the parish for?"

"I'm a stranger, " I said, "and I used to know young Roger Trewinion;can you tell me anything about him?"

"Knaw young Maaster Roger, did 'ee?" cried Bill, "why he was a friendto me; ain't 'ee 'eard un spaik of Bill Tregargus?"

"Bill Tregargus?" I said; "many a time! why, did you not go out withhim one night and rescue a young lady whose ship was wrecked upon agreat rock?"

"Why, iss, " said Bill excitedly, "ded a ever tell 'ee 'bout that?"

"How should I know it else?" I said; "but now I want to know about himand the family. "

He took me away from the people by a pathway that led through a meadow. 

"You was a friend of Maaster Roger's, " said Bill, "zo I can tell 'ee. He's dead, and there's been foul play. "

"Foul play? How?"

"It's my belief 'ow 'e've bin murdered, zur. "

"Murdered! Why should you think that?"

"When did you knaw Maaster Roger, sur?"

"Oh, twelve years ago, just before he came of age, I think. "

"Well, sur, ther've bin awful doin's up at th' House since then, things, sur, as I'm amooast 'fraid to tell 'ee, 'cause----"

Then a frightened look came into Bill's eyes, and he looked roundnervously. 

CHAPTER XVII

REVENGE!

"You doan't belong to this neighbourhood, do 'ee?" said Bill, at length. 

"I have not been in England for years, " was my reply. 

"Well, sur, I'll tell 'ee oal about it. Perhaps you knaw that theyoung lady who was saved was stayin' at the house?"

"Yes, I've heard of it. Miss Morton was her name, wasn't it?"

"Iss, that's it. Well, Maaster Roger and Maaster Wilfred was boath inlove wi' her; and Maaster Wilfred he stood the best chance 'cause Mrs. Trewinion dedn't like Roger, and she amoast worshipped Wilfred. Ofcourse, we doan't know all about it, but we've heerd as 'ow there wassomethin' in Squire Morton's will which made Miss Ruth marry the Squireof Trewinion. Anyhow the ou'll squire got killed, and jist after that, altho' Maaster Roger wur maaster of everything, he runned away and leftWilfred to be the squire. Of course, everybody wondered at that, andgrieved too, for Maaster Roger wur a fav'rit' with us all. Then weheerd from the sarvents that Mrs. Trewinion and Maaster Wilfred hadworked it out. She had tould Miss Ruth that young Roger had beenboasting that she would 'ave to marry him, although 'ee didn't careanything 'bout 'er, and we heerd as 'ow she tould Maaster Roger thatMiss Ruth loved his brother, but couldn't marry him 'cause he was inthe way, and that the thought of marryin' him, that is Maaster Roger, was drivin' her mad. We doan't knaw 'bout oal these things, sur, butanyhow, Maaster Roger was missin' dreckly after his father's funerl, and hev never bin seed alive since. Well, after he was gone, Miss Ruthnearly broke her heart. You never see such a pale thing as she wentto. "

"But I think I heard that she liked Wilfred best; at least, Roger toldme so. "

"Ded Maaster Roger tell 'ee that, sur? Well, everybody thought so. She would go out a walking with Wilfred, but 'ardly ever with Roger;but wimmin be curus critters, and it 'pears that all the time she wur adyin' for 'im, only she wur too proud to let 'im know it. "

In spite of myself my heart gave a great bound. I saw it now. I hadbeen the tool of my mother and Wilfred. I had spent long years ofgrief because of them; my life was perhaps wrecked, but I kept calmbefore Bill, and bade him go on with his story. 

"Well, sur, " Bill continued, "while everyone was talkin' 'bout MaasterRoger, and was wonderin' what 'ad become ov him, the body of a man wurfound at the bottom of the headland oal bruised and battered. Ofcourse, everybody said 'twas Maaster Roger. In fact, Mrs. Trewinion, and the passon, and Maaster Inch swore to him, an' 'cordingly it wastook into the house, and in a day or two was buried in the Trewinionvault, under the Communion in the church there, " pointing to the greytower, which we could just see between the trees. 

"But were proper steps taken to indentify it?" I asked. 

"Well, sur, you see, when a young fella's mawther sweers to 'im therecan't be much more zed. Anyhow, everybody believed it but Miss Ruth. She stuck out that 'twadn' Maaster Roger, and wudd'n go to the funeral. Of course, there were a lot of talk, but we people only heerd jist bitsof gossip like. For my oan paart, I 'greed with her. I knawed thatMaaster Roger knawed too much 'bout the cliffs not to vall over um, while as fur killin' hisself, he wadn't the sort of chap to do that. "

"Did you say so?"

"'Course I did, but people laughed at me, and zed I worshipped MaasterRoger, which wur purty nigh true. But what vollied wur strange. People zed as ow a strange figure wur seed in the churchyard, and thatit went wailin' up an' down, and then went in through the church door, and then up to the Trewinion vault, where it vanished. "

"But how could anyone see it go through the door, and then up to thevault?"

"Dunnaw, sir; but sperrits be curse things. Any-rate, thur wur lots oftalk, fur 'twas seed not only in the church, and churchyard, but up atthe house. "

"Who was it supposed to be?"

"Well, some do say as 'twas this man that was buried that wasn'tMaaster Roger. Some do say as 'twas th' oull squire hisself, who comeback to tell un that they didn' bury his son; while others do say thatthe squire com back to tell Miss Ruth to marry Wilfred. Anyhow, thingswent on like that for a week till the passon was called up to thehouse, and was tould to lay the ghost. "

"How do you know if that is true?"

"Well, sur, that es what people do say. They say that Mrs. Trewinionand the passon went first into the library and then to the church, andthere the passon ded read the funeral service over again, and took careto turn the Prayer-book upside down so that the ghost couldn't rise anymore. "

"And was it seen afterwards?"

"No sur, it weren't; but some don't think 'twas the passon laid theghost, but 'cause Debrah Teague had summin to do wi' it, and the passonhad a row wi' her. "

"Well, what happened afterwards?"

"Things went on quiet for a bit, sur; then we heerd as 'ow MaasterWilfred, who took 'pon him the place ov squire, was plagin' Miss Ruthto marry un, and she wudden, then it laiked out that she said shewudden marry un 'till ten year after Maaster Roger 'ad gone. "

"My dream, my dream!" I thought. Surely the hand of God was in this;but I did not know all then!

"Well, are the ten years up yet?" I said, as quietly as I could. 

"'Twas up 'bout a month ago, sur; and then, sur we've heerd as 'ow astrange thing happened. "

"What?"

"I have to go up to the house a goodish bit, sur. I take fish there, and I'm friendly weth the sarvents, too, and so I heer more'n anybodyelse. "

"Well?"

"They do say as 'ow Mrs. Trewinion and Maaster Wilfred went botherin''er again to marry 'im, tellin' her that the ten years was up. Theysay, too, that Maaster Wilfred got Miss Ruth's old steward Inch intosome scrapes, and can make un do moast what he've got a mind to. Anyhow they oal got at her, and got her to promise, when she screechesout 'Roger es ere; I see un!' There were a sarvent in the 'all thateerd her and she tould me!"

"Merciful God, " I thought, my dream again. 

"What happened afterwards?" I said, excitedly. 

"Why, sur, Miss Ruth she fented away, and lyed like one dead for a longtime, and when she came to she looked oal dazed. "

"And then?"

"The next day she went to her own house. "

"What for?"

"To prepare for the weddin'. She believed, so she tould her maid, thatRoger must be dead, and so she went home tu fulfil her father's will, and prepare for the weddin'. "

"What, did Wil--, that is, the other brother, persist in her marryinghim, though he knew she didn't like him?"

"That he did, sur. You see, he've bin livin' wild, and people do zaythat the whole estate es mortgaged up to its eyes, and he ded want toget Miss Ruth so as to kep Trewinion. "

My heart grew hot with anger, but I only urged the man to go on withhis story. 

"Well, I do'ant knaw much after that 'ow things went on; but I've heerdthat she pined and pined, and still Maaster Wilfred kept her to herpromise. The banes (banns) was called in church, and the day fixed;but she got thinner and thinner, till 'bout a week ago she--she----"

"She what? Tell me?"

"She died. Goodness gracious, who be you?"

"Ruth dead! Died of a broken heart! Wilfred, your cup is full! Youshall die for this!" I cried wildly. My brain was on fire, my heartwas breaking. I had come home for this! The message was a mockery, nothing was before me but despair and--revenge. 

"Look you!" cried Bill, "you be--iss, good Lord--you be Maaster Roger!"

"Yes, Roger, " I said, "come home for this!"

"Oa, Maaster Roger, I wish I 'ad'n tould 'ee. I'd a bite my tongue outfust; but I ded'n knaw, and yet I thought you was somebody I'd seedbefore. Oa, Maaster Roger, do'ant 'ee give way so. Oa, to think youshould 'ev bin dead, and come back livin', and that Bill Tregargus shudhev bin the fust to tell 'ee the bad news. Ef I'd only knaw'd I'd evaltered it; but I ded'n. "

I conquered myself at last. I had been in a hard school during thelast ten years, living almost without hope in life, and so I felt itless than if I buoyed myself up with joyful hopes. Still, it wasterrible, terrible. If I had come home a month before it might havebeen different, but I was too late. Ah, I was cursed, cursed with theTrewinion's curse!

"Bill, " I said, after many wild questions on my part, and excitedexclamations on his, for he could not realise that I was alive, "tellme all about it, all about her death, and everything. "

"Well, Maaster Roger, " said Bill, "what I knaw is through Jane Treloar, who was Miss Ruth's maid, and she came back yesterday by the coach. She do live here, you do knaw, sur. Well, she tould me and the cookthat she only made one request when she got very ill, and that was thatMaaster Wilfred shouldn't see her. She got weaker, sur, very fast, andnever spoke to anybody, and died without a murmur. "

"When was she buried?"

"Two days agone, sur. "

"Where?"

"In the church, sur, near her house, in the vault under the Communion, so Jane Treloar said. "

For a long time Bill and I remained together, until I saw the eveningshadows fall, then I made up my mind I would go to the Hall. 

"Bill, " I said, "did you know me at all while we were talking?"

"Not until you got wild, sur, then it struck me who you was. Nobodywould recognise you at once, sur, you've so altered. "

"I don't want you to tell anyone you've seen me until you hear from meagain, Bill. "

"All right, sur, I won't do nothin' you do'ant want me to do; yoube'ant goin' away, be 'ee, sur, y'll stay and be squire!"

"I don't know what I shall do yet, " I said, "I'm almost mad; but you'llknow by and by. "

Then I went away towards the house. I knew Wilfred was home, and Idetermined that we should meet, and that he should give an account ofhis dealings with the woman for whom I had left my home. 

Daylight was nearly gone when I reached the headland so I went to aspot near the house, where I could watch. It was a glorious Septemberevening, and nature was on every hand beautiful. The flush of summerhad gone; but the decay of winter had not set in, and the cornfieldswhich had been shorn of their crops were by no means destitute ofloveliness. The fruit trees were laden with their crimson and goldenclusters, and the first tinge of brown that was just beginning toappear only added to the beauty of the foliage I felt this rather thansaw it. The spell of the night exists more in my consciousness than inmy memory. The music of the waters comes back to me rather as ahalf-forgotten dream than as anything I distinctly remember. My mindwas then too busy with other things. I was thinking of Ruth, Ruthloving me through long years, and then dying of a broken heart. Through the wilful deception of my brother and mother I had been bereftof everything I loved. Through them I had sacrificed love, hope andcomforts; through them my darling--who loved me all the time--wasmurdered. Oh! If I had but known. If I had but known we might havebeen happy--so happy! But no, they had remorselessly pursued theircourse, until they had killed my darling. 

If I felt hatred on the morning I left home, I felt it ten times morenow. Then my hatred was blind hatred without knowing the reason, now Iknew that it only foreshadowed what should come after. It was aprophetic power in my soul, which told me vaguely perhaps, but truly, what my brother would do; now I realised it. Then, if I may so speak, it was abstract, now it was concrete. What I had only dimly feared wasbecome a fact. Ruth, who had loved me, loved me without my knowledge, had been killed, murdered, as truly as if an assassin had used a knifeor cudgel for his devilish work. Nay, it was worse, it was a slowerand more cruel death. She had died because of the fear that her lifewas to be linked to a man she did not love. 

I was very calm I remember, even though the fires of hell burnt in myheart. After all, the anger which is most dangerous is not that whichraves and cries aloud, but that which makes no noise. Calm as I was, Ifelt my muscles grow hard, and I had a kind of savage joy within me asI pictured the death agony on his face and heard the death rattle inhis throat. Nevertheless, I would not act foolishly, and I set myselfto thinking how I could bring my desires to pass. 

How should I enter the house? How should I be able to get Wilfred awayalone?

Surely, the powers of darkness were on my side, for while I waited andwatched I saw him come out of the tower entrance, and walk in thedirection of the gate that led out to the headland where I was. 

"Ah!" said I, "God is going to give you into my hands. He is a justGod! He will not grant me love, but He will grant me hate, and He willfind a means of vengeance. "

He came out of the gate and wandered slowly on. I was too far away tosee his face clearly in the evening light, but could see he moved withthe old, careless swing. Ten years had scarcely altered hisappearance. He was still the elegant, handsome Wilfred. 

He walked towards the vicarage, and took the coast path. So much thebetter--it was the most lonely path in the countryside. It suited mypurpose exactly. I followed silently. No sound of footsteps could beheard, for the grass was soft and spongy; the grass on which we hadoften played together as boys. 

He wandered along aimlessly as though he had come out to be alone. Hedid not look back; but every now and then stopped and gazed at the"Devil's Tooth, " the five great prongs of which could be clearly seenin the evening light. 

Presently I thought we had gone far enough for my purpose, and so Iwent up to him. 

"I desire to speak to you, " I said. 

He turned round sharply, and looked straight at me. 

"Who are you?" he cried. 

"Look and see, " I said. 

The moon had risen, the sky was clear, and my features could be plainlyseen. 

He looked at me steadily with his sharp brilliant eyes, and spoke again. 

"I do not know you. "

"I think you do, " I said. "You and I have often played on yonderheadland, often wrestled there; look again. "

Then he gave a great start, and trembled. 

"My God, it is Roger!" he cried. 

"Ah, you remember at last, do you? Yes, it is Roger. "

He seemed to detect something fearful in my voice, for he asked harshly:

"Where do you come from, and why are you here?"

"I am come from silence, and from mystery, as far as you areconcerned, " I replied, "and I am here in the name of righteousness andjustice. "

Something in my answer seemed to startle him. 

"Alive?" he said, with a gasp. 

"Yes, alive, " I said. "When I left I told you to be careful, or Rogermight come to life again. I told you to be kind to the one for whom Isacrificed my all, or the dead would arise. Let your own memory answerthe question whether there is cause for me to come back. "

He caught my meaning, and began to stammer. 

"But, Roger, I--I have done nothing, and----"

"Stop, " I cried, "I know all. You know that I was deceived intobelieving that Ruth loved you, and that I was the hindrance to herhappiness. And I know now that it was a lie concocted by my mother andyou. I know how you have imposed upon and deceived her. I know thatyou have tried to frighten her into marrying you, and I know, too, thatby keeping her to a promise that her soul abhorred, you have murderedher! I know all this, and now I have come back for revenge. "

"What will you do?"

"I do not know as yet. First of all confess to me this; did not youand my mother deceive both Ruth and me to get me away, so that youmight have what was mine?"

"You said you knew, why do you ask?"

"I wish to hear what you say; answer me!"

"Mother put in into my mind, and I thought that--that--you didn't care, so I--I----" he stopped in confusion. 

"Coward! to put the fault on your mother. Now another question. Didyou villify me to Ruth, did you wear away her life by trying to get herto marry you, even when you knew she loved me?"

"Roger, I wanted her so, and you were gone, and we thought you dead, and our affairs got entangled so----"

"You killed her, " I said savagely. "But for your accursed cunning andgreed she would be alive now. "

"I didn't know, Roger. I knew she didn't like me after--after--youwent away, but I didn't think I should----"

"Did you hold her to her promise to the last?"

"Yes--that is, I thought she might get better again and so----"

"You drove her to her death, and now my turn has come. "

"But you will not hurt me, Roger; you will not hurt your brother! Whatwill you do?"

This touched me to the quick, and for a time I felt I could not hurthim. 

Is there unspoken communication of thought? Is there a subtleinterchange of mind which is instinctively felt? I think so, for nosooner did I feel that I could not harm Wilfred than his evident fearleft him. He acted on the aggressive immediately, and spoke boldly. 

"Yes, what will you do?" he said. "I refuse to know you. I refuse torecognise you. My brother Roger is dead, and was buried long yearssince. You are some impostor come here to claim what is not your own, under the paltry pretence of revenge. "

My brother's villainy was now manifest, and my old hatred came surgingback. 

"Roger is not dead, and that you will soon find out, " I said. "Allyour authority and power are gone, the son and heir has come; butRuth's avenger is come too! 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for atooth. ' You shall suffer as she has suffered, you shall die as shedied. I have a long score to pay. I have ten years of misery in thepast to account for. I have a blackened future from which you are notfree. "

We were standing near the cliff as I said this, but I had my eye uponhim, and it is well it was so, for he jumped at me savagely, and, had Inot been prepared I should have fallen from the dizzy height to theragged rocks below. 

"Curse you, " he cried; "but you have not a child to deal with, or thepuny boy whose weakness you used to take advantage of. I am not goingto let Trewinion go. I have not enjoyed it for ten years to lose itnow. If Roger did not die ten years ago he shall die now. "

With that he sought to drag me nearer the cliff, while I gripped himfirmly. He did not fight defensively now. For him, everythingdepended on the struggle. To rob me of my love, and to rob me of mymoney, he had schemed to get me away, and now that I had come back hedetermined to hold by all he had stolen. Nor did I fight defensively. I felt I had lost Ruth, ay, I had lost my life itself through him, andI gripped him with a grip of iron. I thought of misery, and revenge;he of disgrace and the loss of what he held dear. 

I soon found out that, as he had said, I had not a child or a puny boyto deal with. His muscles seemed of iron, and he coiled around me likea serpent. If I hated, he hated still more, and with the malignity ofa demon he sought to master me. I was, however, the bigger and thestronger man, while the past ten years of my life had developed myphysical strength greatly. Toil and exposure had given me power ofendurance unknown to him, and soon I felt his grasp weaken. Little bylittle I mastered him, until with the grip of a giant I crushed him inmy arms. 

He looked up at me despairingly. 

"You will not kill me, Roger?" he gasped. 

"Would you not have killed me if you could?" I said, for there wasmurder in my heart. "You have killed my Ruth, and now----"

I did not finish the sentence, for, in spite of myself, I felt himdragging me nearer the edge of the cliff, nor was I able to stop himuntil we were within a foot or so from the awful precipice. Then Ilifted him from the ground and held him. His strength seemed gone, while mine was unabated. 

What should I do with him? He was the destroyer of my life'shappiness, he had killed my love, he had filled me with despair; but hewas my brother. Should I destroy the venomous life that wrought onlyevil? or----

"Hurl him over!" said the devil within me, "he is your blight, yourcurse! Show him no mercy, let him be dashed to pieces, and thus youwill avenge your misery, and avenge Ruth's death!"

[Illustration: "'Hurl him over!' said the devil within me. "]

"No, no, he's your brother, forgive him!" said another voice. 

All this passed through my mind in the moment, that I felt him struggleagain, then, with an awful shriek, he fell from me. 

I stood alone on that dizzy height--alone! I was the conqueror. I wasavenged. Ruth's murderer was dead. 

I looked around me, and I remembered where I stood. 

Long years before I had gone to the vicarage, and on this spot I hadseen a shadowy, shapeless figure in white!

On the night my father had died I was standing on this place when I sawbetween the prongs of the "Devil's Tooth" the omen of darkness. 

Now, standing there alone, I realised what had been done on this placeof evil memory. 

I stood on the edge of the cliff and looked down I could see nothing, but below me I heard the waves break upon the rocks, and they seemed tolaugh with fiendish glee, and mock me in my black despair. 

CHAPTER XVIII

HELL!

I cried to God, "Oh, I am so weary. "

God said, "You have not seen half hell. "

I said, "I cannot see more, I am afraid. In my own narrow little pathI dare not walk, because I think that one has dug a pit for me; and ifI put my hand to take a fruit I draw it back again, because I think ithas been kissed. If I look out across the plains the mounds arecovered houses; and when I pass among the stones I hear them crying. The time of the dance is beaten in with sobs, and the wind is alive. Oh, I cannot bear hell. "--OLIVE SCHREINER. 

For some time I was conscious of nothing, but by degrees I realisedwhat I had done. An awful crime rested upon my soul, a crime only theshadow of which had rested upon me before. 

The hatred of years had found expression at last. The serpent that hadlain in my heart, writhing and turning, and growing for years, had atlast lifted its head, the latent devil had asserted itself, and I was amurderer. 

A murderer!

The ghastly, terrible truth pressed itself upon me more and more. Iwas alone on the weather-beaten cliff, around me all was still; beneathme was the ever sobbing sea telling me of what I had done. 

A murderer?

Oh! The terror of that thought. Even now, after long years, Itrembled at what I then realised. I, Roger Trewinion, trained by agodly father, surrounded during my early life with every goodinfluence, was a murderer. In my madness I had arisen like Cain andtaken away my brother's life; in my hatred I had wrought desolation. 

Alone! alone; with only the mocking sea to speak to me from without;while within I felt the fires of hell. 

I saw, as in a lightning flash, the events of the past twenty years. Isaw myself and Wilfred playing, rollicking on the cliffs, I saw usrushing home from school, and nutting among the woods. Again we weretogether in the waving cornfields, or swimming in the shining seas. Wewere reared in the same home, and had through our childhood slept inthe same room. We both bore the same name, and the same blood ran inour veins. 

And I remembered more than that. Thousands of incidents concerning thehappy days of childhood flashed through my memory. Then we had fewcares and many joys. I saw us sitting in the old family pew in church, and the lines of the old hymns we had sung came back to me, hymns aboutthe love of God and the Cross of Christ. 

And I had murdered him! Never, in my wildest moments, did I dream thatmy hatred of Wilfred would ever take outward form in actual killing. Idid not mean to kill him when we stood together, and held him in myarms. But he fell from me--fell from that awful height, down, down, among the cruel jagged rocks, and would be dashed to pieces, while themocking waves would sweep over him. 

Now, where was the purpose of my hate, my revenge? They had not wonback the lost years of my life, they had not given Ruth back to me. Myevil deed had only made the evil more evil; had poisoned my own soulwith a poison more deadly. What right had I to visit vengeance upon mybrother's wrong-doing? Was I perfect? Had not hatred mastered my lifefor years? Had I not allowed my lower nature to conquer my higher?Yet I had dared to avenge my wrong. I had dared to take the work ofGod into my own hands. "Vengeance is Mine, I will repay, " said theLord. 

Bitterly now did I feel the truth of this, for God was taking Hisvengeance on me! I--I had broken His laws, I had yielded to the devil, I had hurled the crown of my manhood from me. 

And I still stood alone, with bare head and burning eyes, while in myheart burned a scorching, tormenting, yet non-consuming fire. 

Then a more terrible thought came. What I had done could never beundone. Never! Age upon age might pass away, but that fact, ghastlyand black, would remain! It might be possible, I did not think He everwould, but it might be possible that in the far-off future God wouldforgive me. But then, even God could not undo the fact that I hadkilled my brother. 

But I had not intended to throw him over the cliff. His death was dueto an accident; I had not altogether yielded to the strivings of thedevil. True, true, and yet murder was in my heart, for did I not hatehim and had I not hated him for years. 

"Whoso hateth his brother is a murderer. " So said the disciple of theSon of God, and I had hated him, and now neither God nor eternity couldundo what I had done. 

I thought of my mother. Soon she would learn that Wilfred was dead, and then her sky would be black, and it would be I, Roger, who hadblackened it. The deed which would bring her grey hair with sorrow tothe grave, had been done by me. 

"Ah, " I thought, "if I could only cease to be, cease to think, " butthat, I knew, could never be. Had I hurled myself from that dizzyheight, so that my battered body might be beside my brother's, theawful thing I had done would remain, and I should remain. I might killthe body, but I could not kill the soul; and self-murder would make mycrime greater, not less. 

Oh, how desolate the world was. The summer sky had no beauty; thefields, which I could still dimly see, were shorn of every loveliness. 

Then I looked seaward, and the only visible object was the ghastly rockwhich was ever a nightmare to my soul. 

What was it I saw there? It was a light, like the light I had seen onthe night of my father's death, a weird, ghostly light, moving betweenthe great grey prongs. 

I remembered then of what that light was supposed to be the omen, andmy senses seemed to leave me. Everywhere, everywhere, I could heartaunting voices crying "Murderer! Murderer!" The winds as they sweptby said it, the sea playing with the pebbles on the beach said it, andthousands of voices all around me uttered the same dread word. I putmy fingers in my ears to keep away the hideous sound; but not so couldI silence conscience. The word came not from without, but from within. It was my guilty soul that repeated it, until I longed to have thepower to flee from the self which I loathed. 

Not only did my ears hear the word; my eyes saw it. Everywhere it waswritten. On the broad sky I could see it written from end to end. Iturned to the sea, and on its silvery waters the same awful word wastraced, in letters that were black as the blackest night. I turned myeyes landward, and it was there, and when I closed them I saw it still. 

Yet I was not sorry for what I had done! I suffered the pains of hell, but I was not sorry, nor did I hate my brother the less. Could I haveshed one bitter tear or realised one true feeling of repentance Ishould have suffered less; but I could not, and this made my hellharder to bear, it made my hell a hell of the blackest kind. Dives didnot feel the burning so keenly as I, for in his pain he could stilllove his brothers and long for their salvation; but I was in worsestraits than he. I hated all, because of my hatred of one. 

And all the time I felt this, I stood on the verge of the cliffshundreds of feet above the ever-sounding sea. My loneliness wasterrible! I longed to hear some voice, to feel the grasp of somefriendly hand, yet I dreaded the approach of any one. 

My eyes and ears were, after a while, delivered from the terrible word, and looking again I saw the mysterious light moving among the prongs ofthe "Devil's Tooth, " then I saw a form approaching me, a grey, bent, ungainly form. 

Trembling I waited as it approached, until it stood close by my side. 

"What do 'ee zee?" said a croaking voice. 

I did not reply. I felt that I could not. 

"Es it the light you be lookin' at? That's Betsey Fraddam's lantern, that es, and that do'ant tell'ee of any good luck. "

I knew now that it was old Deborah Teague who spoke. The years had notsoftened her harsh features, nor did she seem older than when I hadleft Trewinion, save that she stooped more. My blood curdled when Iknew it was she. When I stood on this place last she had come to meand had repeated some lines of the Trewinion's curse; she had told meof the darkness that was approaching, and now on the night that I hadcome back, the night on which I had been engaged in a deed of darkestdark on this same dread spot, she had come to me again. 

Yet did I not reply. 

"Who be you?" she continued. 

I remained silent, looking again towards the "Devil's Tooth, " whereangry flames leaped up. 

The old dame laughed when she saw my evident fear, and continued in herhoarse, croaking voice:

"That's ou'll Betsey cookin' her broth, that es; and it was made whereyou do'ant want to go. I shudn't stay there much longer or ou'llBetsey 'll bring'ee some, and nobody ever refuses her. "

With that she hobbled away, leaving me again alone. But I did not staylong. A maddening desire came into my heart to get away, and witheager feet I rushed landward. 

Where should I go? Somewhere, anywhere away from Trewinion, away fromthis dark deed of my life. For a mile I rushed blindly on. Then Istopped. I must make up my mind what was to be my destination. 

Morton Hall! I had not been thinking of it, but that was the placethat impressed itself on my thought and memory. I would go there. Forwhat purpose I did not know, but in my misery that one place seemed toinvite me. I could do no good, for Ruth was dead, and laid in the coldtomb. Dead, dead, and she had died loving me! The thought softened myhell, and yet it made it harder to bear, for while it put tendernessinto my heart, it made me feel more than ever unworthy even to mentionher name. 

I stopped in my journey again, for I had started in the direction ofRuth's home, and, looking upward, I saw a star that was nearer to methan any other, and it seemed to look lovingly upon me; then my heartwas subdued, and I sobbed like a child. 

Again a mad frenzy possessed me, and I rushed away in the direction ofRuth's home as though the powers of darkness pursued me. 

CHAPTER XIX

TOWARDS RUTH'S GRAVE

But if you look into it, the balance is perfectly adjusted, even here. God has made His world much better than you and I could make it. Everything reaps its own harvest; every act has its own reward. Andbefore you covet the enjoyment which another possesses, you must firstcalculate the cost at which it was procured. --FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON. 

Morton Hall was about thirty-five miles from Trewinion, in asouth-easterly direction. It lay on the opposite side of the county, and the country between was hilly, but fertile. I did not know theroad well, but I knew it well enough for my purpose. By travelling atthe rate of four miles an hour I could reach the Hall in nine hours. Icould give no reason for going thither except that I was drawn by anirresistible power, a power by means of which I hoped to quench theawful fires in my soul. 

The night was clear, and the stars shone brightly overhead. These Ihad studied through the long years of my seafaring life and so knewtheir location well. Fixing on one which lay in the direction in whichI desired to go, I followed it as my guide. 

To analyse the feelings that possessed me that night would beimpossible. One hears sometimes of a murderer "escaping. " That maynever be. The officers of the law may not suspect him, the hangman'srope may never come near him, but no murderer escapes. He neverescapes the terrible undefinable fear which constantly dogs him, theghastly gnawing which eats at his heart. 

At every step I saw my brother Wilfred. I constantly heard his voice, and every footfall spoke of what I had done. The hedges were full ofgrinning devils, which mocked me, while the stars that spangled the skyspelt the word that was dragging me deeper into hell. 

Time after time I tried to comfort myself with the thought that I didnot intentionally kill him, that it was an accident which caused him tofall upon those cruel rocks hundreds of feet below, but I found nocomfort in the thought. I could not get rid of the fact that I hatedmy brother, and that whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer. Evenhad I not done the deed, even had Wilfred been alive, I was still amurderer at heart. I had hated him alive, I hated him still, and evennow I had no sorrow at what I had done. 

On, on I went, wildly yet wearily; tired I was, but I never rested, norabated my speed, and ever as I went ghastly thoughts tormented me. NowI pictured him lying bruised and bleeding among the rocks, alive yethelpless; and as he lay I saw the tide rising all around him, andlaughing at his cries for help. Then I saw him a ghastly, mis-shapenmass, crushed and battered beyond all recognition, with eyes red asblood and bursting from their sockets. Again I saw him, and the scenewas more terrible still. He was entering a great gulf which I knew tobe the mouth of hell, and as he went I saw that he was attended byghastly, pallid creatures, who were cold and clammy in spite of thefires that burned in their breasts. 

"Who sent you here?" they cried, in harshly grating voices. 

"My brother Roger!" he answered. 

"Breathe the prayer dearest to your heart!" they grinned. 

"May he wallow in a hell a thousand times blacker and more painful thanthis, " he said. 

"Your prayer shall be granted, " they screamed. 

Then I lost him amidst gloomy caverns, that burned with fires giving nolight, and I realised that I was still tramping madly on towards thesouth-east, but I knew his prayer was answered--my hell was blackerthan his. 

Oh! the length of that awful night. Every second seemed a minute, every minute seemed a day, nay, a night, a thousand dark nights! I wasin eternal punishment! I had died into eternal death!

How many hours I had tramped on I knew not, when I saw in the easternsky a red tinge which made the whole horizon seem a wall of heatedsteel, set in diamonds. North and south the sky appeared more bluebecause of the brighter colour in the east, and it looked more distant, more unfathomable. Of what moment was this earth of ours in this vastspace which separated it from the nearest star? It was but as the finedust of the balance, and yet I, the loathsome thing that walked theearth, could feel--could suffer--I was something more than the earth!

Slowly the day dawned, brighter and brighter became the flush in theeast, one by one the stars sank out of sight, and suddenly I saw agolden streak of light flash across the hills, then another, and stillothers, until a disc of the king of day became visible. A minute moreand it was day! Day! and yet I was still in night, the gloomy fires ofmy heart were still unquenched, the darkness of my soul was stillunillumined. 

I now began to think about what my mother would say, what she wouldfeel. When Wilfred did not come home a search would naturally be made, and in time he would be found. And what then? I dared not think ofthat!

Presently I saw a labourer with hedging tools on his shoulder. I wouldspeak to him, it would relieve my feelings to hear the sound of a humanvoice. 

Closer and closer we came until we were within a few yards of eachother. I could not speak to him. I was ashamed. I was a guiltywretch, and could not look an honest man in the face, so I passed bywithout looking at him or speaking a word. Another mile I tramped, then I saw a farmer coming in his cart; evidently he was going to somedistant market. I would speak to him. I had now got over the shockwhich the sight of the other man had given me. 

"Could you tell me, " I said as he came near, "how far Morton Hall isfrom here?"

"Morton Hall, " he replied, "I' sh' think I cud. I ain't a lived inthis ere neberhood for vive and vorty year wiout knawin' that?"

I waited for him to go on, but he did not speak another word, and then, looking at me strangely, prepared to drive on. 

"_Will_ you tell me, then?" I said. 

"You asked me if I _cud_, " he said, "not ef I _wud_. Es, I'll tell'ee, tes nine mile'n haaf, " and the farmer drove on. 

Nine miles and a half! I had walked twenty-five miles then, and more. I was very tired, and I knew not why I should go there; but, impelledby a strong power, I hurried on. 

By this time the day was quite warm, and soon I began to feel theperspiration ooze from my forehead, so seeing a stream of clear waterrunning by the roadside I stooped down and washed myself. It helpedand refreshed me much, and enabled me to think more calmly. Then Iremembered that many a long hour had passed since I had tasted food. Ifelt hungry and faint, but I walked on, for there seemed small hope ofobtaining food for some time. Happening, however, to pass near afarmhouse I heard some one singing. It was a milkmaid sitting amongher cows, singing as she worked, and her song was the expression of alight heart free from guilt. Jumping over a stile I made my waytowards her, and seeing me coming she stood up and curtsied. 

"Can you sell me some milk, Mary?" I said. 

"No sur, I can't sell any, and my name edn't Mary but Em'ly, but I cangive 'ee zum. "

With that she ran to the house, and soon appeared with a quart jug, which she dipped into the bucket and filled, then handed it to me. Idrank it greedily, and I did not take my lips from the jug until I hadnearly emptied it. To me it was both meat and drink, and it gave menew life. I offered the girl money, but she refused it indignantly. 

"As thoa, " she said, "anybody cud taake money vur a drap a milk. "

I had no difficulty in accomplishing the remaining distance after this, and soon after I came to the park gates of Morton Hall. Then the realdifficulty of my position was revealed to me. What should I do now Ihad travelled these thirty-five long miles? what object could I have invisiting the house? what should I say if any one asked me my business?

Although I could not settle this in my mind, I opened the gate andstrode up the long drive. It was a fine house, and had been kept ingood repair. Great trees bordered the way, but hid not the colossalpile that was plainly to be seen at the end of the widening avenue. 

Without waiting a second, or being able to give a reason for what I wasdoing, I went to the main entrance and rang the heavy bell. 

An old, grey-headed servant appeared, looking exceedingly solemn, andasked my business. 

"I want to see the owner of this place, " I said, speaking on theimpulse of the moment. 

"There is no owner, " was the reply. 

"How is that?" I asked, abruptly. 

He looked at me keenly for a minute, as though to sum up my socialposition and qualities before answering. Evidently he was an old andtrusted servant. 

"It is not a matter for strangers, " he said, "but if you have anybusiness I will convey it to the person who is at present in charge. "

"My business is of importance, " I said, speaking from secret impulse, and not knowing what I should have to say next. "I can only entrust itto the owner. "

"But the owner is dead, " he replied, "and who the new owner will be isnot known yet. There are many claiming to be next-of-kin, and Mr. Inchand the lawyers are busy at work. "

"Mr. Inch is the steward, I suppose?"

The man nodded, but did not speak. 

"The late owner was a lady, " I said, speaking more calmly than I hadthought myself capable. "I used to know her. Miss Ruth Morton was hername. I have a message of great importance; but you say she's dead. "

Again the servant looked at me keenly. 

"I know Mr. Inch too, " I went on, "and I must see him. Perhaps he wasnot as faithful to his mistress as he should have been; he must answerme that. "

This I said as one in a dream, for I had not thought of it before. Itcaused a light to flash from the man's eyes, however, and he spoke morefreely. 

"I will tell Mr. Inch you are here, " he said, "and I will answer anyquestion I can. I have been a servant in this house all my life, and Iloved Miss Ruth like as if she were my own child. "

"Did she ever live here after her father's death?" I asked. 

"Not until she came of age; then she used to come here through thesummer months, but returned to Trewinion, I believe, because of herfather's wish. "

"What did your mistress die of?" I asked, abruptly. 

The old man was silent. 

"Can you not tell me?" I urged. 

"I cannot, " he said, stiffly. "I dare say you could know by applyingto the doctor. "

I could not help noticing a strange look in his eyes as he spoke, but Isaid quietly. 

"Then you will, perhaps, tell Mr. Inch I wish to see him. "

"Yes sir. What name?"

"No name. "

"No name? He will not see you. "

"Tell him a friend of the Trewinion family wishes to see him. "

He gave me a searching look and then went away, and in a minute morecame back and showed me into a room, telling me that Mr. Inch would seeme immediately. 

I had not to wait long. Soon I heard a slow, measured step along thehall; then the handle of the door turned, and Mr. Inch and I weregazing steadily into each other's face. 

CHAPTER XX

"VISIT HER TOMB"

 O, how blest are ye whose toils are ended! Who through death have to God ascended! Ye have risen From the cares which keep us still in prison. --LONGFELLOW. 

"I am at your service for a few minutes, " he said stiffly; "but ourinterview must be short, for I have much to do. "

"And I have much to speak to you about, " I said, still confused as tothe issues of our interview, but dimly feeling that he was in some wayresponsible for Ruth's death. 

"I am ignorant as to what it can be, " he said, looking at me curiously, "for certainly I do not remember ever seeing you before. "

"You do not remember, " I said, "but you have nevertheless seen me. "

"Yes?" he said, still questioningly. 

"Yes!" I replied. "I am at present travelling like that ancient god ofnight whom men call Nemesis. I was for years lost to the earth, now Iam come back, if not to restore the righteous to their true position, at any rate to punish betrayers and oppressors, and you are both abetrayer and an oppressor. "

"Do you know to whom you are speaking?"

"Yes. "

"Then I will call a servant and see that you are shown off thepremises. "

"No, you will not. "

He looked at me strangely. "A friend of the Trewinions, " he murmured, "surely he must be mad. "

"Yes, I am nearly mad, " I replied, "but I am sane enough to know thatRuth Morton was not fairly treated, and although there is nothing butdarkness for me in the world, and although every deed I do leads mefurther into the thick darkness, it shall be my work to unmaskvillainy. "

"Unmask villainy?" he said, as if in surprise, and then made a movementtowards the door. 

"No, " I said. "Think one minute before you call a servant. Let yourmind go back a few years. Remember a dark, wild night many years ago, when you and your mistress were shipwrecked upon a rock on the northerncoast. Think of who saved you. "

"It cannot be!" he said, staring amazedly at me. 

"You did not like him, did you?" I said. "You cared more for theyounger brother, and played on the elder's trusting nature and helpedto get him away. You swore that a body which was washed on the shorewas his, although in your heart you knew it was not. You persecutedyour mistress by constantly trying to make her marry the man she didnot love, and on the tenth anniversary of his departure you appearedarmed with her father's will and drove her to the promise which killedher. "

He grew as pale as a sheet. 

"You are Roger!" he gasped. 

"I am Roger, " I said. 

"But what will you do?" he said, his face ashy pale. 

"Do?" I cried. "I will destroy Ruth's destroyers, and then destroymyself. I will sift your dealings to the bottom and then----"

"Stop, Roger, " he cried; "stop! I have sinned, but I have also beensinned against. I loved Ruth, ay, loved her like my own child; butWilfred got me into his power, and then, like the devil he was, he mademe do his will. Oh, I have suffered as well as you, more than you! Hefound out the one weak place in my life, as he found out everythingelse, and then he held me fast. Oh, I have waded through the blackestslime for him. But for his power over me I should have scorned to dowhat I did; I would have died before I would have taken advantage ofher loyalty to her father's slightest wish; and now----"

"Now, because you had no mercy on her or on me, I shall have no mercyon you, " I said. "Everything shall be made known, all your deeds shallbe dragged into the light of day. "

"No, no, Roger; she would not have done that. She forgave meeverything, for at the last I confessed to her all that had been done. She suffered terribly at your departure, and more, I believe at thethought of wedding Wilfred, and yet she forgave me. Oh, I wish you hadseen her at the last, so calm, so patient, and so beautiful. She lovedyou to the last, Roger, and one thought that cheered her in the hour ofdeath was that she would soon see you again. "

"Did she think I was dead?"

"She believed you died soon after you left home, " he replied. But Idid not believe him. 

"And she loved me; did she confess it?"

"Not to me, but to the maid who was with her; her whole life and beingseemed to be gone over to you; and thus it was that the thought ofobeying her father's will killed her. "

And I had been away from her all these years; I had been robbed of whatwas most dear. I was glad I had been revenged on Wilfred now, and thegladness was fiendish. This man, too, should reap as he had sown; ashe had helped to make me suffer I would make him suffer. I knew thatsooner or later my struggle with Wilfred would be made known, and thatI should be suspected of his death; but I did not care, madness was inmy heart again. 

I burst forth with expressions of hatred and determinations of revenge, the old man still cowering meanwhile before me. Then he spoke. 

"Roger, who are you that you should seek revenge? Is your life whollypure and free from stain? Think, you, if you ruin my life by bringingme to disgrace, or if you destroy your brother Wilfred, that Ruth couldwelcome you to Heaven, if God should even allow you to go there? Shedied with the look of a glorified angel on her face; I wish you hadseen her, you would not talk of revenge. "

All the time I had been living as in a dream. A vague feeling ofdarkness and revenge possessed me. I felt drawn on by unknowninfluences--whither, I could not say. 

These words of the old steward and friend to the Morton family arousedme. Who was I, indeed, that I should seek revenge? I was the murdererof my brother, I had yielded to as low impulses as they, and yet Italked of myself as Nemesis. How, indeed, should I dare to meet Ruthagain with such a sin on my soul?

Without a word I left the house, Mr. Inch staring amazedly after me. Istrode down the drive towards the park gates, and had gone, perhaps, half the distance, when I was chained to the earth by the memory of theold man's words:--"She died with the look of a glorified angel on herface; I wish you had seen her. "

No sooner had these sounded in my memory than another voice seemed tospeak. 

"Go and see her, " it said. "Visit her tomb. "

At first I was almost stunned by the thought. To see my Ruth againwould indeed be ecstasy, but even as I so thought I heard another voicespeaking in cruel mockery. That which I should see would not be Ruth, she would be far away, where I might never go. Yet the idea stillhaunted me. I would go. It might ease the terrible madness of my soulif I could see even in death the lips that had confessed their love forme. 

How should I accomplish my object? I remembered Bill Tregargus'swords, "She was buried in the vault under the Communion. " To thechurch then I would go, and I would see her face again, although it wasthe face of the dead. 

My first work was to go to the village sexton and get the church keys, so when I arrived at the village I enquired for his house. Idiscovered that he was a bachelor, and lived alone on the outskirts ofthe village. I quickly made my way thither, and, on arriving, foundthe door locked. Evidently he was out. On making further enquiries, Ifound that he had that day gone to the nearest market town, andprobably would not be home until dark. It was now about noon, and, faint and hungry, I found my way to the village alehouse, where, afterhaving had something to eat, I tried to think. 

Since yesterday, I had lived a lifetime. Yesterday at that time I hadnot arrived home, I had not seen Bill Tregargus, I knew nothing of whathad occurred. Now I was branded with the brand of a murderer. Thewild deeds I had done when I sailed the seas as a pirate scarcelyweighed on my conscience at all; but this deed, though I did notrepent, and though my hatred remained unabated, made life unendurable. 

Hour after hour I sat in the parlour of the village inn, thinking, wondering and fearing. Would the landlord be so obliging, I wondered, if he knew what I had done; would he not loathe my presence, anddeliver me to the justice of man?

Yet who are the murderers of the world? Are they to be found amongthose only who do actual murder, or are murderers a class of people whoare capable of murder? Is not every man who is not filled with Divinelove capable of murder, and are not many free from the stain ofmurderous deeds merely because they have never been provoked, tempted?Who shall judge as to who are real murderers? None but God alone!

Night drew on at length, and full of the thought which became dearereach hour, I found again my way to the sexton's house. This time hewas at home. He stared at me in astonishment when I told him what Iwanted. 

"Want to go in th' oul church after dark!" he said. "You must bemazed. "

"Why?"

"Why! You cudden git more'n two people in the parish to do it. Me andthe passen be the only two that be'ant afraid. "

"But I don't want you to go with me, " I said. "I simply want you tolend me the keys, and I'll bring them back to you again. "

"And you we'ant want me to go in the churchyard nuther?"

"No. "

"I must'n do it, " he said. "The passen 'ud give me the sack straightoff ef 'ee was to knaw it. "

"No one need know, " I said. 

For a long time he held out. I could see that he would willingly havelet me enter the church at daylight, and would himself have gone withme; but at night he was afraid to do so, and was also afraid to let mehave the keys. 

"I ca'ant 'ford to lose my place, " he said; "not that the burryin' eswuth much. I ain't a berried a livin' soul for a long time, so timeses bad in that way; but I git a goodish bit for clainin' the church. "

"How much do you get a year?"

"I make so much as ten shillen a week oal the year round, " he said. "Ido'ant knaw how much that es a year. "

I took fifteen guineas from my pocket, and put them before him. 

"There is more money than you would get in a whole year, " I said. "IfI don't bring back the keys in safety, you'll have that money to takeyou where you like to go, and if I bring back the keys you shall havefive of them for your trouble in lending them to me. "

"You'm sure you won't do no harm. "

"Perfectly. "

"Then take 'em, " and going to a little recess in the room he took thekeys from a nail and gave them to me. 

"I expect you to be waiting for me here when I come back, " I said. 

"Oa, never fear, I sha'ant steer out of the 'ouse, " was his reply. 

I took a lantern, in which the old man had placed a candle, andprepared to start. 

"You'm sure you beant goin' to do nothin' wrong, " he said. 

"Perfectly, " I replied. "You will not regret it for an instant. "

He looked at me again, then, as if they were an enormous fortune, atthe guineas that lay on the table, and seemed reconciled. 

"Tha's the kay of the church, " he said, pointing to the biggest in thebunch, "the churchyard gates is allays left unlocked. And I'll bewaitin for 'ee when you come back. How long shall 'ee be?"

"I don't know; perhaps an hour, " and with a beating heart I went awaytowards the church. It was a great, grey, gloomy pile, the foursteeples on the square tower at the western end reminding me of theprongs of the "Devil's Tooth. "

I entered the churchyard gates. All was silent as death. I hadexpected it to be so; no one ever dared to enter there after dark, unless it was a cluster of worshippers gathered together in churchtime. Even this did not happen often, for rarely was an eveningservice held there. Like many other country churches in Cornwall, thetime of worship was morning and afternoon. Had I got into the churchin the afternoon I should not have been free from observation, for thecountry folk are courageous in the daytime, and often prowl around thechurchyard; but at night I knew if I entered I should be leftunmolested. 

Slowly I wended my way down the churchyard path. I began to realisenow what I was going to do, and for the first time the thought struckterror. Yet did I not hesitate in my purpose. I remembered everysuperstitious association of my early childhood. Stories of thetroubled dead roaming around their graves came back to my mind. I sawthe grey tombstones grim and lonely, as if inviting those in whosememory they were erected to bear them company through the silent night. 

A lonely churchyard is an awful place, and this one seemed more awfulthan others to me, who was about to visit the dead!

How plainly my footsteps sounded as I went down the gravelled footpath. I felt as though I were disturbing the dead in their graves. 

What was that dark grey form moving among the tombstones? Was it thevillage witch gathering the nettles that grew on the suicide's grave, in order to work her mystic spells and secret charms? Was that sound Iheard her dark laughter, as she plucked the mugwort of evil repute?

No; it was only my excited imagination conjuring up dread objects andnoises. 

I stood at the door of the belfry tower. It was grey, and ironstudded. Should I enter this way? No; my passage among the bell-ropesmight set the bells jangling in ghastly discord, and quickly I hurriedto the church porch. 

I stood and listened; but could hear no sound. The stone seats aroundthe porch looked very cold, and the parish notices that were pastedaround its walls looked to me like the letters of departed spirits. 

I lit the candle in my lantern, and fumbled among the keys, my handstrembling as I did so. I found the right key at length, and placed itin the door. I tried to turn it, but it would not move. I pushed it alittle farther and tried again. The lock was very stiff, it was butseldom moved--once or twice a week at most, and even more seldom oiled. In spite of the rust, it at length yielded to the strength of my hand, the bolt shot back with a rough grating sound, the great door swungback on its rusty hinges, and I entered the silent church. 

I withdrew the keys and shut the door. It closed with a bang thatsounded terrible in the great building, but I did not heed. I wenteastward towards the Communion, under which was the tomb of the Mortons. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE VAULT UNDER THE COMMUNION

There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, butwhich are too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction. These the mere romancist must eschew, if he do not wish to offend ordisgust. They are with propriety handled only when the severity andmajesty of truth sanctify and maintain them. We thrill, for example, with the most intense of "pleasurable pain" over the accounts of thePassage of the Beresina, of the Earthquake at Lisbon, of the Plague ofLondon, of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, or of the 123 prisoners inthe Black Hole at Calcutta. But in these accounts it is the fact--itis the reality--it is the history which excites. As inventions weshould regard them with simple abhorrence. --EDGAR A. POE'S _Tales ofMystery and Imagination_. 

I stood alone in the old church. How silent everything was! The greatgrey granite pillars, surmounted by circling arches, appeared inghostly array before me; the high-backed pews seemed to be peopled bydim, shadowy figures, who had come back to watch me as I looked on theface of my loved. Everyone of the tablets on the wall was to me a faceof warning. My footfall echoed and re-echoed, until I fancied thesilent church peopled by innumerable visitants from the spirit land. 

A dim light which caused weird shadows to fall across the old building, came in through the small windows, while the light of my lantern madeother shadows more dark, more forbidding. 

I wended my way towards the Communion, for even there Bill Tregargus'swords came back to me. "She was buried in the vault under theCommunion, " and there I should see all that remained of the only womanI had ever loved. I passed by the reading desk, then came to thepulpit, but I did not pause either to examine the curious carvings onits front or the ancient worm-eaten wood of which it was made. 

At length I stood by the Communion, and a great fear laid hold of me. Tremblingly I looked around the church. All was silent save the nightwinds as they moaned in the tower at the western end. Then an owlhooted dismally, and soon after I heard three distinct raps at awindow, as though a large bird had tried to break the glass and thusenter the church. 

What did it mean? Deborah Teague had spoken of three raps as a sign ofdeath. To whom could it apply? To me? I was not anxious to live, andyet I shuddered. 

"Perhaps I shall die, " I thought, "and see my darling again; but howcan I meet her? Have I not a murderer's hand and a murderer's heart?"

I turned the light of my lantern upon the altar table, and on it I sawa cloth, on which was embroidered a cross, the symbol of the Saviour'sdeath, and this made me remember how He had spoken to a dying thief. For a moment the thought gave me comfort, but in the next I recollectedthat the thief was penitent, and that I had no proof he was, as I was, a murderer. And I was not penitent; I still hated Wilfred. He hadrobbed me of earthly happiness here and Heaven hereafter. I hated him;and I was a murderer. After that the cross brought me no comfort. 

Before going to the sexton's I had provided myself with a short pointedpiece of iron. It was the only instrument I could procure with whichto open the vault without attracting suspicion. 

I quickly found the burial place of the Mortons. A tablet was on thewall, on which were written these words:--

 "Under this stone, and waiting for a joyful resurrection, lie buried all the mortal remains of

 JOHN MORTON, OF MORTON HALL, Who lived and died in the fear of the Lord. He was hated by none, and beloved by all. "

Then followed a eulogy of his life and works, his gifts to the church, his kindness to the poor, together with many other things. 

I looked beneath the tablet on the floor of the Communion, and saw thata large slab had been lately moved. No doubt, then, that Ruth had beenburied in the family vault. 

With trembling hands I placed my piece of iron beneath the joints ofthe floor, and with but little difficulty lifted it up; then I slippedmy hands beneath the stone and lifted it still higher. 

Air, stifling, unwholesome, came from underneath, and again I felt likeleaving my purpose unfulfilled; but a stronger impulse urged me toproceed, and I moved the stone still farther. A minute later I hadturned it back, and Ruth's grave was opened. 

For a minute my heart ceased to beat; then it seemed as though my bosomwere not large enough to contain it. Not that I feared the dead, atany rate not Ruth. Had I not been guilty of that awful deed the nightbefore I do not think I should have been so moved; but with murder onmy heart, to look on the face of my beloved was terrible. And yet Ifelt I could never rest until I had seen her. 

I stared into the vault. 

At one end were steps by which I could descend. At the other was adark object. 

My blood seemed to freeze in my veins, yet I went down the steps, slowly and steadily, until I stood in the abode of the dead. 

Never shall I forget how I felt. Never while consciousness remainswill the awful sensations that possessed me be altogether taken away. 

Around me was the dust of departed generations of the Morton family, while close to me was the face of one whom ten years before I had seena bright and beautiful maiden. Ruth, whom I had ever loved, and whohad died of love for me, was there!

Vague thoughts of how she would look floated in my brain, and in mydelirium I fancied that her spirit had come back to watch me as I tookone last look at her dead face. 

The coffin was placed in a recess in the tomb. I knew it was hers, forit was new, and had been only lately placed there. 

I thought I had heard a sound above. I listened for a second, butcould hear nothing save the wild beatings of my almost breaking heart. Then I placed my hand on the coffin. 

It was fastened with what looked like golden clasps, large and strong, which pressed closely on the grey oak of which the coffin was made. Mechanically I moved the clasps, and then lifted my lantern nearer. 

Again I listened, but all was silent. If the spirits of the dead werethere they made no sound. 

I lifted the coffin lid. 

For a second I held it in my hand, then I turned it back. 

Even then I could not bear to look in and see my darling's dead face, and stood trying to gather together sufficient courage. 

I let the light fall upon the head of the coffin and looked. 

Yes, it was Ruth, little altered from when I had seen her last, exceptthat she looked thin and pale, oh! so pale. 

She was not like anyone dead; in spite of her stony stillness, therewas the shadow of colour upon her thin cheeks. 

I looked at her like one entranced, then glanced fearfully around thevault, which was only faintly lit by the flickering candle burning inmy lantern. 

A longing came over me to get away, but I felt I dare not, I mustremain longer with Ruth. I felt that she was glad I was there, andwould not have me leave her so soon. 

Yet she lay like a beautiful piece of marble. Her hands were folded onher breast, and she looked peaceful, so peaceful. 

How I loved her, and how I longed for one word, one movement whereby Icould know she loved me!

I do not know how long I stayed there. I lost all thought of time as Istood gazing at the face of my darling. Everything like fear passed, for in spirit I was with her. 

I kissed her cold lips, as if to bid her good-bye, then seeing thecandle in my lantern had burnt low, I began to think in a dazed kind ofway that I must go. But it was so hard, so terrible! If I could onlyhave some memento to take, something I might aways keep until I, too, should be laid under the cold sod!

What was that?

Flashing from her finger that lay on her heart I saw a ring. Dare Itake it?

At first I shuddered at the thought. Robbing the dead seemedsacrilege, yet it did not seem like robbery. And was I not sure thatshe would wish me to take it? It might comfort me during the littletime I had to live, for I could carry it everywhere with me. 

I took her hand in mine. 

Slowly I began to remove the ornament. It was a thick gold circle, andthree large diamonds had been inlaid and flashed brightly. 

It was rather hard to pass over the joint, but I was determined topossess it. Then I stopped as if stunned, and trembled like an aspenleaf. 

I felt the hand move!

Yet I did not drop it. I could not, it seemed welded to mine. 

Was it the judgment of God for seeking to rob the dead? I looked ather face, as if expecting a curse, and my heart seemed to come into mymouth. 

Her eyelids began to quiver, her mouth to twitch, [*] and her whole bodyto give signs of life. 

To say that I was awed would be but to hint at my feelings. At first Ithought it was her ghost rising to denounce me, but soon I saw it wasphysical life, and then I thought God was working a miracle. 

Almost unconsciously I went on rubbing her hands, while evidence ofreturning life became plainer and plainer. 

Then I trembled lest the shock of seeing me there in that silent vaultshould kill her, or do her serious injury, and yet I longed to hear herspeak, I longed for expressions of her love. 

Still more plainly did life appear, until I saw her open her eyes. They were dull and had a blank expression, but by and by they becamebrighter. She looked around the vault as if in wonder, then her eyesrested on the lantern, and again she turned them towards me. For aminute she gazed, then with a cry she sat upright. 

* Although the reader may regard the foregoing as wild and impossible, I can vouch for the truth of a story identical in many points with thattold by Roger Trewinion. The wife of a nobleman of the West ofEngland, whose name is well-known in Cornwall, was supposed to be dead, and was buried in the family vault situated in the old parish church. A valuable ring which was on her finger when she died was allowed toremain, and it was known by the servants and villagers that thisornament was in the tomb with her. The sexton determined to get it, and accordingly at midnight made his way to the church. In seeking toremove the ring he caused the latent life to assert itself, and seeingthe lady move he ran out of the church, leaving the lantern behind him. She became conscious, took the sexton's lantern, and found her way backto the hall. She lived long enough to become the mother of a son, whoafterwards became the heir of his father's estates. --_Note by the_EDITOR. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE VOICE OF THE DEAD

 Oh, one more kiss from your lily-white lips, One kiss is all I crave; Oh, one more kiss from your lily-white lips And return back to your grave. --_Old Cornish Song_. 

Long years have passed since the events I am now narrating, yet myflesh creeps as I write. Imagine, if you can, the circumstances thatsurrounded me; think of the position in which I was placed. I hadlearnt amidst anguish and despair that the woman I loved, and who Ithought had called me home, was dead, and I had determined to visit hergrave and to see her dead face. Then when I had found my way to hertomb, and uncovered her resting-place, I had seen the one whom I hadthought dead move, and give other signs of life. When she sat up inher coffin my blood froze in my veins. 

Was it my Ruth who lived? Was her death only fancied after all? Now Isaw a purpose in all my blind wanderings! Now I understood the crywhich I had heard sweeping across the weary waste of waters, "Come homeand save me, Roger!" Now I saw meaning in my mad impulse to come toMorton Hall, even when the fires of hell burnt in my soul! Now I knewwhy I had heard the strange words, "Visit her tomb!"

Merciful Heaven, from what had I saved her? Suppose she had regainedconsciousness while within the narrow confines of that narrow coffin!No air, no room, no light! The horror of the thought is enough todrive one mad; what then must the reality be?

This flashed through my mind in a moment, but I did not stay to thinkof it. How could I? The dread "might be" had not become a reality, and my Ruth--the Ruth that I had been mourning as dead, Ruth for whommy heart had been weeping tears of blood--was alive; she was sitting upin her coffin, she uttered a cry. Ruth was not lost for ever. 

And still I did not know what to do; still I could not act or speak!My mind was confused, my head was dizzy; the very vault in which Istood seemed to whirl around. 

For a second we gazed into each other eyes; she with a fearful, yetcurious, wondering look, I with a look of madness, at once of joy, offear, of dread!

Then she spoke, slowly, tremblingly, but still clearly, and Iremembered the voice. 

"What is this? Where am I? Is this Heaven?"

"All is well!" I whispered. 

"It must be, " she said, in a dazed kind of way. "I am so rested, sofree from pain, and then your voice is so familiar. Where am I, andwho are you?"

"Think, " I said; "but do not be afraid; remember where you were last, and then know that all is well. "

"All is well, " she repeated slowly, as if trying to impress the thoughton her half-awakened mind, "I am so glad. "

"You are safe here, " I went on, "no one shall harm you in any way. Donot be afraid whatever you may see. "

She looked around the vault, then a look of horror came into her eyesas she saw where she sat. 

"I am in a coffin!" she gasped. "Am I dead?"

"No, " I said, "it is all a mistake; but all is well. Think, try andremember the past. "

I saw that she made a mental effort, and then slowly light came intoher eyes. 

"I was very ill, " she said, "and so weak and weary. I wanted to diebecause--because--what was it? Oh, I remember now--because I was towed--Wilfred, and I did not love him, and my wedding robe was made, andthe wedding day was fixed, and I gave up hope that he was ever cominghome. "

My heart began to beat with joy. Life and light came back to my heart. That "he" meant me--Roger. 

"And then?" I said, almost unconsciously. 

"And then I thought I was going to die, and I was glad, for I felt Icould not endure being wedded to another. "

She spoke as if dreaming, or as if she unknowingly expressed thethoughts that dimly passed through her mind. 

"Well, " I said, "you wanted to die; you grew weaker and weaker, untilyour friends thought you were dead, and you were brought here. "

"Here! Here!" and she looked eagerly around. "Where am I? The lightis so dim that I cannot see. "

The candle was now very low in the socket of the lantern, and Iscarcely knew what to do, but I tried to assure her that all was well. 

"You need not be afraid, " I said, "It was all a mistake. You werethought to be dead, and you were brought to the grave of your family. "

"The grave, the family vault, " she said, "in the church, under theCommunion! But how came you here, and who are you?"

The time had come for me to tell her, and I trembled lest I should saya mistaken word, or arouse a harmful feeling. I felt that theslightest thing might unhinge her delicately-balanced mind, and Iscarcely knew what to say. 

"Can't you think who I am?" I said at length. "You called me home whenI was away on the distant seas. I heard you say 'Roger, come home, 'and I came, for I knew that you needed me. "

"Roger! Roger!" she said; "what! my Roger?"

The words came out apparently unthinkingly. She did not know what shewas saying. 

"Yes, Roger, " I said, "your Roger. I came back to find you, I heardyou were dead, and it drove me nearly mad. I felt I must come and seeyour dead face, so I came here and found you, not dead, but onlyasleep, and I--I awoke you. "

I watched her face as I spoke, still holding her hand in mine. Slowlyshe realised things as they were; slowly one fact after another passedthrough her mind, until she saw clearly. 

At first there was an expression of horror on her face, then she lookedeagerly at me and I saw tenderness--love in her eyes. 

I dropped her hand and opened my arms. She did not hesitate a moment, but struggled to come to me, so I took her in my arms and pressed herto my heart!

Oh, how she clung to me, while I held her fast, my heart trembling forjoy as I heard her whisper, "My Roger come home to me!" Then Irealised how cold she was, and saw too, that she was wrapped only in ashroud. 

"You are cold, Ruth, " I said. 

"So cold, Roger; but I do not mind now!"

The light in the lantern became dimmer, and I had no more candle. Ithought of the candles in the church, and wondered how I could get atthem. 

"Ruth, " I said, "could you bear to stay here while I go into the churchfor another light? Our candle is nearly out. "

"No, Roger, " she said, clinging to me, "I could not bear for you toleave me, " and she clung to me more closely. 

I lifted her out of her narrow bed and prepared to carry her. I hadnot much difficulty in this. She was very light, very thin. 

Taking the lantern in my hand I bore her away from her dreadresting-place. With what a sense of relief I lifted my darling throughthe narrow entrance! With what gladness I realised that she was notdead! When I went down my heart was cold and heavy as lead; now it waswarm; it beat with new life. I went down in what seemed to be thedarkness of death; I came out into the light of Heaven!

I seized a candle which stood on the Communion table and lit it fromthe one in my lantern which had almost gone out. 

Then I tried to take off my coat to wrap her in, but this she would notallow me to do. She was still unselfish Ruth, suffering herself ratherthan let another suffer. So I took the cloth that lay on the table, the doth which was marked with a cross. I wrapped her in that, andsurely I committed no sacrilege in doing so. It was large and warm, and entirely covered her, all but her white feet that peeped out fromunder her shroud. 

I took another look at her, a longing, loving look. Her old beauty wascoming back; she was losing all fear as she realised my presence. 

"Ruth, " I said, "it is your Roger who asks you, may I kiss you?"

A faint smile came into her face, something like the smile I had seenin the olden days. 

"Dare you kiss me in my shroud, Roger?" she said. 

Even then she could not repress the quaint, quiet humour I had lovedyears before. 

Dare I! I covered her face with kisses, and as I did so I forgoteverything, forgot all I had done, forgot where I was. I only knewthat I held Ruth in my arms, and that her lips met mine!

Then, in spite of her protests, I took off my coat and wrapped itaround her little feet. 

"What are you going to do with me, Roger?" she said. 

"I am going to carry you home, " I said. 

"Home! Home where?"

"Home to Morton Hall. "

"Can you?" she said. "It is a long way. 

"Can I?" I said with a laugh. 

She looked at me as though she gloried in my strength, and was glad shecould trust herself to me. 

I carried her down the silent church; but no longer did my lanternthrow weird shadows on the floor; no longer were the pews filled withforbidding spectres. For now the church was full of bright rejoicingangels. 

When I came to the church door, and saw the heavy clanging keys, Iwondered what I was to do with them. 

The old sexton would lose his senses if he were to see the preciousburden I bore. I locked the great door and took her out into thesilent night. 

I no longer needed the lantern; the light of the moon was clear andbright. It was indeed a relief. To me, after being immured in thechurch, the clear, pure air was welcome beyond expression. And if itwas welcome to me, it was a thousand times more so to Ruth. I do notthink she fully realised from what she had escaped until now. She gavea cry of gladness, such as a bird gives when freed from a cage. Behindher were suspense, cruelty, doubt, despair, death and the grave; beforeher--ah, what?

I bore her on, feeling no weariness, no pain, no sorrow. Thegravestones told me no sad stories, the shadows of the trees were onlybeautiful pictures painted on the green grass. 

When I came to the churchyard gate I saw the old sexton. 

"What have 'ee got there?" he gasped. 

[Illustration: "'What have 'ee got there?' he gasped. "]

"Take your keys and lantern, " I said. 

He took them both mechanically, and then looked at Ruth awestruck. 

"Where did 'ee take et from?" he said, in a hoarse whisper. 

"Her grave, " I said. 

He took a look at Ruth's face, which was clearly to be seen in themoonlight, and immediately recognised it. 

"Great Loard!" he cried, "'tes our dead lady's face, 'tes our deadlady, and the devil have got her. "

With a cry which showed how real were both his fear and belief, herushed away from us. 

I did not stop him: I did not think it necessary; soon the truth mustcome out, and then all his fears would be allayed. 

Never shall I forget the journey from the village church to the home ofthe Mortons. My joy was so great that I did not feel Ruth's weight atall, and when she asked me anxiously, yet lovingly, if she wearied me, I only pressed her more closely to my heart, while she only nestledmore contentedly. And small wonder? Had I not brought her back fromthe dead, and had she not found herself free from the terrible chainthat bound her, free to speak to the man she loved?

Nearer and nearer we came to her home, the home which all thought shehad left for ever. We came within a few yards of the front entrance, when a great dog came bounding up with a furious growl. I wondered howI should get rid of him; but Ruth spoke only one word, and he did notknow how to express his joy; he walked by our side and licked theshroud she wore. 

I seized the great bell, the bell I had rung that morning. Soon itsclanging voice echoed through the hall, and soon after we heard thesound of voices, and footsteps echoed along the corridors. 

A minute later we heard the bolts shoot back from the door at which westood. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SHADOW OF EVIL'S REWARD

Avenge not yourselves; but rather give place unto wrath, for it iswritten, Vengeance is mine, and I will repay, saith the Lord. . . . 

Be not overcome of evil; but overcome evil with good. --_The Epistle to the Romans. _

When the door opened, I saw two men-servants, each bearing a candle, each looking as frightened as men could well look. One I recognised asthe man to whom I had spoken in the morning, the other was evidently anunder-servant. 

Each stared at me and at the burden I bore in amazement. The onerecognised me, the other evidently wondered who I was. 

"May I ask what you want, " said the old servant, "and why you arousethe house at this time of the night?"

"Show me a room where your mistress can rest, " I said. 

"My mistress?" said the man. "Great God, who are you?"

As he said this he took a look at Ruth's face, and then with a shriekof fear he rushed away from us. 

"Come back, " I said, "there is nothing of which you need be afraid. "

"Afraid!" he gasped, "that is the dead body of my mistress. "

"Your mistress is not dead, " I said; "she is alive; show me a roomwhere I may rest her, and she will speak to you. "

Tremblingly he led the way to a room, where I laid her down, and then, at my command, he went away to get food and drink for her. 

Soon after the other servants appeared. The shriek of horror given bythe man when he caught sight of Ruth's face had aroused the household. Never shall I forget the expression on their faces as they looked at meas I sat by the side of the precious burden I had borne. Evidently theyounger of the two servants had told them what I had said, for theywere afraid to speak, and kept gazing at us fearfully, yet wonderingly. 

Ruth was now becoming exhausted. After the scene in the church thejourney home had been too much for her. Perhaps, also, the awfulnessof her position together with dread memories, were too great for her tobear, so I bade the servants hurry in getting refreshments for her. 

After taking some food she was, however, strong enough to sit up and totalk. 

I will not describe what followed, nor how the servants crowded aroundher, weeping and trembling. Some I found were on the point of leaving, having received their discharge, while others wondered what theirfuture would be. There had been every probability that the householdwould be broken up, and those who had grown grey-headed in the serviceof the family grieved much at the thought of leaving. And now, whenall hope was gone, their mistress had come back, and their joy andtheir astonishment knew no bounds. 

Presently we heard a tottering step outside the door, and in anothersecond Mr. Inch appeared on the scene. For a minute I thought he wouldhave fainted; but by a great effort he mastered himself, and cameslowly to the place where Ruth sat, looking at her steadily in the facefor, I should think, a minute. Then he heaved a great sigh, and said;"Great God, Thy ways are wonderful!"

I had been holding Ruth's hand all the while, and I felt her shudder asMr. Inch approached. I was sure that she felt that he had not acted asher friend, and now, in spite of herself, she feared him, andunconsciously she came nearer to me. 

I think the old man saw this, for a strange look passed over his face, and he did not take her hand, as I was sure he had intended to do. Heturned towards me, however, and said:

"Tell me, Roger Trewinion--tell us all, how this great miracle has beenaccomplished. "

A look of intelligence passed over the servants' faces as my name wasmentioned. Apparently, it was well known to them, and all listenedeagerly for my answer. 

Then I told how, in leaving the house that morning, I had heard thevoice telling me to visit her tomb, and had determined to do so. Iwill not describe the excitement and wonder of those who heard myexperiences. It would take a pen far more able than mine to convey tothe minds of my readers the terrible interest that was taken. 

Perhaps I ought not to have told the story before the servants; but wewere too excited to know what was right and seemly. Indeed, sooverwrought were we that Ruth had not been divested of her strangegarments, and soon after I had finished my narrative I felt howthoughtless I had been, and how neglectful of her comforts. 

When Ruth was taken to her room, however, with two of the maids toattend her, the excitement began to pass away, and the servants, withthe exception of the old man whom I had seen at my first visit, returned to their rooms. 

For a few minutes Mr. Inch and I were left alone; he still trembledwith fear and wonder, perhaps also because of a troubled conscience, Iwith a strange joy surging in my heart, thinking only of the blissfulpresent. 

"This will cause much talk, and necessitate much investigation, " saidthe old steward. 

"I suppose so, " said I, absently. 

"A great lawsuit would have come on, " he said. "Two parties wereclaiming the property. Lawyers are preparing the case on either side, and the matter has already become public. "

"That will all come to an end now, " I said. 

"I suppose so; but it will be the wonder of the countryside. I wonderwhat Wilfred will say?"

I had forgotten Wilfred. The feelings aroused by seeing Ruth alive hadfor the time quieted all my bitter memories of my struggle withWilfred, together with its awful ending. 

"I wonder what Wilfred will say!"

The words struck terror into my soul. Wilfred, unless now discovered, was lying bruised, battered, dead, on the great rocks beneath thecliffs. Perhaps the fishes might know of his presence, and the greatsad sea would sweep remorselessly over his lifeless body; but Wilfredwould never know of what had been done. 

My heaven of joyful thoughts was gone now. The hell of bittermemories, the hell of a murderer possessed me. 

The old man's remark was left unanswered. It had dashed me down into agreat gulf; it had led me to make what was to me a terrible resolve. 

A little while later Ruth came back to the room again. The servantshad tried to persuade her to retire; but she declared that she couldnot sleep and she wished to come to me. 

She was Ruth again now, Ruth as I had seen her last. She had got ridof her terrible garments, and except that she looked very pale, and wasa little older, I saw no difference in her. But there was adifference. Love was shining out of her eyes, and she did not hidefrom me the fact that I was the king of her heart. 

But this gave me no joy now, no heaven. The ghastly form of my brotherWilfred stood between us. I took her hand as she came in, and tried tosoothe her, for I felt that she was still trembling, that she felt safewith no one but me. Then the old steward rose up and left us, and theservants likewise retired from the room. They saw our relations toeach other, and although it was night we were left in the room together. 

Again for a time I banished my dark thoughts, for a time I allowedlove, rather than duty, to fill my world, and I yielded to the gentlewitchery of her presence. I had made up my mind to tell her all; but Ipostponed it for a while. "Time enough yet, " I said; "let me have somehappiness before eternal night sets in. "

How gentle, how kind, how loving she was! Her every word told of thelove she bore me, and had borne me for long years, every word told mehow she believed in my goodness and purity. 

What we talked of, I may not recount. I only know that for a few shortminutes we lived in the blissful present. The thought of her greatlove was more powerful than the dread remorse which had possessed me alittle while before. 

And was it any wonder? Think, if you can, how I must have felt! Tenlong years before I had left her, thinking she loved another, and allthose years I had roamed the world in misery and hopeless despair. Ihad come back at the summons of a voice which I had heard, or thought Ihad heard, sweeping across the wide seas, and when I had arrived at theplace where I had hoped to see her I had heard she was dead. Then, after grief that amounted to madness, I had discovered her alive, andhad found that she loved me. More than that, she was with me, we werealone, and I felt her hands in mine. Was it to be wondered at then, that darkness should, for the time, be driven away?

Swiftly the time passed, sweetly her gentle voice sounded as she toldme how happy, how safe, how contented she was, and, in spite of herterrible experience, how little weakness she felt; and then she askedme to relate to her my adventure since the night on which I left theTrewinion Manor. 

Again I remembered what I had done, again the agonies of remorse, whichhad been awakened by memory, began to eat into my soul. But I wouldtell her all. I would faithfully relate the tale of the years that hadpassed, I would faithfully tell her what I had done. 

And so I cast my mind back and told her what I have written in thesepages. How I had gone away to sea, and how, for years, I had sailed inevery clime, and with men of different nationalities. I recounted howI had been taken by the pirates, and how for two years I had been withthem. I kept back nothing from her. I told her of many wild deedsthat I had done, and of the wild life I had led. By and by I came tothe night on which I had such a strange dream, or else had seen such astrange vision, and here I hesitated. It seemed so wonderful, andwithal so unreal. I told it her, however, while she listened withwonder-lit eyes. 

"Yes, Roger, " she said, "it all happened just as you saw it. "

"And did you cry out, Ruth. Did you say, 'Roger is here?'"

"I did. I felt you were there, although I could not see you. "

"And then, Ruth; what did you do?"

"I went out into the night. I knew your habit of going out on to theheadland when you desired to be alone, and I felt I must go somewherewhere you had been. "

"Yes, Ruth, and afterwards?"

"I went out and wandered for a long time, until I felt my heart wasbreaking. I seemed all alone in the world, with no one to help me, andI cried out in anguish, 'Roger, come home. '"

"And I heard you, Ruth. After I had seen you in my dream, or whateverit was, I went on deck, and while there I heard your cry, and Ianswered back. Did you not hear me?"

"No, Roger, I heard nothing in answer to my cry, save a kind of wail, which, as it mingled with the splash of the waves seemed to be only amocking echo of my words. "

"And yet your words called me home. "

"Thank God--and then?"

I told her how I had come home, and had met with the fisherman who hadinformed me of her death, and how she had died because of Wilfred andMr. Inch, who had goaded her to do what was death to her. 

"And what followed, Roger?" she said, anxiously, as I hesitated aminute. 

"I hated Wilfred as I never hated man before. I felt that he wasdeserving of the worst that could befall any man, and I determined tobe revenged. "

Again I hesitated, and again she told me to go on. 

Should I tell her? Should I with a few words blacken her life, shouldI destroy her every hope? Yet the truth must out. It always does, andI should but put off the evil day by refraining from telling her. Yetit was terribly hard, the man must have a steady hand who writes hisown death-warrant without shaking. 

She saw, I think, how terrible was the ordeal, for she nestled closerto me and spoke gently. 

"Dear Roger, " she said, "it must have nearly driven you mad to meethim. "

I think this gave me strength, for I clenched my hands nervously, andbegan to tell her of our meeting and of the darkest deed that everblighted my life, wondering in my heart what she would say and do whenshe knew what I had done. 

CHAPTER XXIV

CAIN

And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth toreceive thy brother's blood from thy hand. . . . A fugitive and avagabond shalt thou be in the earth. 

And Cain said to the Lord, My punishment is greater than I canbear. --_The Book of Genesis. _

At last, I had told her. The dread truth which I had trembled for herto know was made known. Word by word, sentence by sentence, oftenhesitating, often stammering, I related our meeting, the awful struggleon the cliff with its terrible ending. 

Then I felt her tremble. 

"And Wilfred is dead?" she gasped. 

"Dead, " I repeated. 

"And you killed him?"

"I--I killed him. "

"Then you are a--a----"

"Yes, I am. My God, I am a murderer!"

I felt her shrink from me, I saw the blood recede from her face, and inanother second she lay motionless in my arms. 

I laid her gently down in an old settle, and ran into the hall shoutingfor help. The two women servants who had attended upon lier quicklyappeared. 

"Your mistress!" I gasped. "Make haste. "

They hurried to the room and found Ruth lying as one dead. 

I could not stay there while they tried to restore her. I felt I hadkilled her, and my head whirled so that I could scarcely stand. Untilthen I did not know what a man could bear and still live. No tongue orpen can describe what I suffered. I had been in hell the night before;it was worse now. Then only the death of the man whom I had hatedpressed on my conscience, now, I feared, I had by the same deed killedmy darling, whom only a few hours before, I had taken from a livinggrave. 

Presently I heard the sound of horses' hoofs on the gravel outside thehouse, and in another minute the village doctor entered. Unknown tome, Mr. Inch had sent for him, thinking Ruth might need his advice. Evidently, too, the servant who had been to fetch him had told him ofthe strange event that had happened, for when he saw me he exclaimed:

"Great heavens, you did it, did you? Well, its the most wonderfulthing that ever happened. "

I think he would have stayed a few minutes with me had I allowed him, but I hurried him quickly to the room where Ruth was, while I stayed atthe door and listened. 

At length I heard a woman's voice say, "She's coming to, " and a greatburden rolled away from my heart. At all events, Ruth's death wouldnot lie at my door, and so far my mind was at rest. By and by I heardmore whispering, and then I heard Ruth speak. Was she not asking forme? I thought so; certainly, I heard my own name. 

I entered the room, and found Ruth sitting up, while the doctor waswalking excitedly round the room, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. 

She looked up and our eyes met. Then I knew that a great gulf wasbetween us, as great as the gulf that lies between Heaven and hell. She could not come to me, I could not go to her. We were divided, notby distance, but by my guilt. We were in the same room, and yet, nowthat she knew what I had done we could not be as we were. 

In spite of this, however, I made a step towards Ruth as if to take herhand, but I saw as I came nearer a look of terror came into her eyes, and she shrunk from me with a cry of pain. Now I knew my doom wassealed, and without a word I turned and walked away from her. I lovedher still; God only knows how; but I could not stay with her when mypresence caused her so much pain. Nay, I felt that if my love wereworthy the name, she must never see me again. Would she not feel thatshe had loved a man whose hands were stained by his brother's blood?

I did not even say "good-bye. " I do not think I could have done so, for weights seemed to hang upon my lips. Yet it was terribly hard togo. We had been separated for more than ten long years, and then wehad met, as perhaps lovers never met before, met for a few brief hoursonly to be again divided. 

I stood alone in the hall, as if waiting for some voice to recall me, but I heard none, so I placed my hat upon my head to go out alone. AsI walked towards the door I thought of the sweet hours we had spenttogether, and of the Heaven of which my sin had deprived me. Butnothing could undo the past. I must reap the harvest of my sin. Before I had gone far, however, Mr. Inch stepped out of one of therooms and met me. 

"Are you going out, " he said in astonishment. 

"Yes. "

"But why? Surely there is no reason. "

"Yes there is. "

"But you are not going far? You will soon return?"

"I do not know how far I shall go; but I shall never return. "

He looked at me in wonder; then a look of intelligence came into hisface as though he had guessed the reason of my departure. 

"Perhaps you do not know Miss Morton's feelings toward you, " he said, with a smile. "This wonderful night has doubtless made us allhalf-mad; but don't forget what it was that caused her illness and, aswe thought, her death. "

"I know all, " I said, "but I must go. "

I placed my hand on the door handle when a thought struck me, and Iturned to him again. 

"But remember for all that, " I said, "that Miss Morton is not without afriend. Remember that I know how false have been your dealings withher, and now, if she be defrauded of one penny in the future, or if youin any way seek to take advantage of her, you shall be thrown into afelon's cell. Your past shall only be forgiven on the condition thatyour future be blameless. "

"Roger Trewinion!" he cried, "I know it may sound cowardly to shift asin upon another's shoulders, but your brother is guilty of all thereal wrong. I was only a weak tool in his hands. But for the future, so help me God, I will serve my mistress faithfully. "

"See that you do, " I said, and then, leaving him half dazed, I went outof the house. 

Thus I was alone again, alone in the night! My sin had driven me away, and now I was cast upon the world again, with no one to help me, no oneto love me. For I could not for a minute think that Ruth could love menow that she knew what I was, and of what I had been guilty. 

Down the long avenue I tramped, thinking all the time of what mighthave been, and hating myself for what I had done. For a time I wentheedlessly, and then I began to decide which course I should take. 

I have heard it said that murderers are always possessed by the ghastlydesire to look on the face of their victim, to visit the scenes whichare associated with the deed that cursed them for ever. Whether thisbe true or not I cannot say, but I had not gone far, before I wasfilled with the dread longing to go back to the spot where Wilfred andI had struggled, and yielding to it I started to retrace the wearysteps which I had trodden only a few hours before. 

After walking two or three miles in a vague, half conscious sort ofway, I felt a great desire to sleep, and seeing by the light of themoon a haystack in a field close by, I clambered over the hedge andwalked, towards it. I found it to be only half-built; evidently, therewas a late crop of hay being carried, and most likely the stack wouldbe finished the next day. A pile of hay was lying on one side, waitingto be thrown on the stack, and on this I threw myself, and quickly fellasleep. 

When I awoke it was broad daylight, and from the sound of voices nearme, the haymakers were evidently at work. I rose up from myresting-place, and as I did so, those who had been partaking ofcroust[1] gazed at me in astonishment. 

I was not dressed like an ordinary tramp, however, and so was treatedcivilly. 

"Will you tell me what time it is, " I said, after some remarks had beenpassed. 

"Nearly leben o'clock in the vorenoon, " said one of the men. "'Ave 'eebin slaipin' here oal night?"

I nodded. 

"Then you must be awful ungry. "

"Yes, " I said, "have you anything to eat?"

For reply, a basket containing a good deal of wholesome food was placedbefore me. I ate heartily, for I was hungry, and after making a goodmeal prepared to go on. 

The men did not ask me who I was, or where I was going, but lookedsmilingly on the few coins I gave them, and wished me a good journey. 

I went on in a dazed way the whole of the day, stopping only once forrefreshment at a little wayside alehouse. I inquired of the landlordif he had heard any news, but he said, No, nothing had happened exceptthat his sister-in-law had got another, her eleventh baby. As I didnot regard this of much importance, I trudged on again as soon as I hadfinished my meal. That I might be going in the teeth of danger did notoccur to me; in fact, I never troubled about any punishment for mydeed, except the terrible punishment of my conscience. 

About eight o'clock in the evening, I entered the parish of Trewinion, and soon, as if drawn by a magnet, I found my way to the place whereWilfred and I had met. 

How vividly everything came back to me, and yet I seemed to have livedlong years since we met. Only two days had elapsed; and I had seemedto have grown old in that time. In my excited imagination I picturedhim coming towards me again; but soon my illusions were dispelled. 

I looked up towards my old home, wondering if I should see any signs ofwhat had happened, but the house was quiet, and, except for a fewlights that flashed from the windows, I saw no signs of life. Theprongs of the "Devil's Tooth" still lifted themselves in the air, butno light was there; evidently Betsey Fraddam was not visiting her oldhaunt that night. 

Again I stood on the place on which we had wrestled, again I lookedfrom the dizzy heights on the rocks below, as if trying to see Wilfred, but nothing was visible. The rocks told no stories; the moaning seadid not recount what had become of my brother's body. 

Had he been found, I wondered? It could scarcely be otherwise. Fisherman were constantly tramping along the beach, and when he wasmissed search would certainly be made. Still it might not have sohappened; I would go down to the beach to see. The tide was ebbingout, and I could easily walk along the sands at the foot of the cliffs. 

I went to the place where a rough track had been made, and soon got onthe beach. It was a glorious night; the sea shone beneath the silverylight of the moon, and had I any melody in my heart the splash of thewater on the beach must have made music to me; but there was nothingbut remorse and despair within me, thus, what would have otherwise havebeen a song of gladness was only a wail of misery. 

When I came to the place beneath the point where we had wrestled, Ilooked for a sign of Wilfred's body, but there was nothing to be seen, nor was there any marks on the sand, not even a footmark was visible. This was not altogether strange, for the tide would have washed awayany such marks, and yet I wondered at none being visible when such aterrible tragedy had taken place. 

Near here was a cave, and, scarcely knowing what I was doing, I enteredit. I spoke, but was frightened by the echo of my own voice. I darednot stay there long. Every sound was magnified so, and as the wavesbroke upon the shore their echo thundered around the walls of my grimresting-place, until it seemed filled with thousands of dark spirits ofthe dead. 

I went out again into the night, and wandered on until I came to thewitches' cave. I seemed drawn, as if by a charm, and for a minute Ihad a strong desire to go where I had gone long years before, whenDeborah Teague tried to make me promise ever to be her friend; butfancying I heard sounds within the dark confines of the cavern, Ihurried away filled with superstitious fears. 

Then a new feeling possessed me. I must get away from England andnever return. There was no hope; no peace for me here. Wilfred wasdead--destroyed by my hand, and Ruth loathed me. I would go away onthe wild seas again, and perhaps, although I could never knowhappiness, I might find forgetfulness. Here I should be ever hauntedby fears; here, too, I was in danger of the law, once away I should besafe. 

The thought brought relief, it gave me something to do. It was anescape valve for my feelings, and without waiting a second I started onthe road to Falmouth. 

A few days later I was sailing down the Bay of Biscay, bound forBarcelona, where I hoped I might find Salambo, who had been captain ofthe pirate ship. 

[1] "Croust" is a corruption of the word "carouse. " This designates ameal which harvesters and haymakers have between ordinary meals onaccount of specially hard work. --EDITOR. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE VOICE OF A FRIEND

The journey to Barcelona was uneventful, at any rate for me. Duringthe whole time I lived in a kind of hideous dream. I was ever thinkingof what I had seen and done during the little time I had been inEngland, but nothing was real save a horrible weight that oppressed me. I know that the captain sought to be friendly, while some of thepassengers seemed to be interested in the sad, silent man who eversought to be alone, but I paid little heed to their overtures. Howcould I when two ghastly passions, hatred and remorse, possessed me?

Sometimes I caught myself thinking of what Ruth had told me duringthose two or three sweet hours we were together. I remember asking herwhy she had seemed to love Wilfred the better, and why, when she sawhow I loved her, she did not in some way let me know that she cared forme. And blushingly she told me that, besides the reports about myboasting that she would have to marry me, which she only half believed, she was afraid I would think her forward and immodest. This set methinking how it had all ended. How through misunderstandings our liveshad been ruined, until life seemed a tragedy, and Providence only adream. But no relief came to me, the burdens which I had myself madestill crushed me to the earth, and I could see no brightness in thefuture. 

We reached Barcelona at length, and I set out to find Salambo. I knewthat if all had gone well with him I should have little difficulty inthis. He had given me instructions which were unmistakable as to hiswhereabouts, so I started at once for the house at which he told me toinquire. 

I found that this house was occupied by his own parents, and no welcomecould be warmer than mine when I told them my name. 

I asked them if their son was well, and I quickly found that he waswell and happy, that he had found Inez, that they had been wedded, andwere living not far away from them. 

Quickly I found my way thither, and soon Salambo and I stood face toface. Only one look at him was enough to convince me that his parentshad told me the truth. 

"All is well with you, Salambo?" I said. 

"Ah, all is well, " he cried, "the saints have been good to me. Youmust see my Inez, she will be here directly. "

This gave me a little hope. Salambo had committed a sin similar tomine, and yet he was happy. He had become wedded to the woman heloved, in spite of the terrible past. Might there then be some chancefor me? Not that I expected to wed Ruth, I gave up all thoughts ofseeing her again; but I might find rest from the terrible pangs whichnow made life almost unbearable. I resolved before the day was over tohave a long talk with my old captain, and, if possible, to seek thesame means to obtain ease and happiness. 

Presently his wife came into the room. They had only been wedded ashort time, and she blushed at being introduced as his wife; but I saw, in spite of everything, that she was happy. Not that she looked freefrom pain. There was a look in her great black eyes which told me thatshe had suffered terribly in the past, and the silver streaks in herraven black hair told the same story. 

She was very beautiful, and I did not wonder that Salambo loved her. From the way her eyes rested on him I knew that he reigned king of herheart. 

We sat together during the evening, sometimes talking and sometimeslistening to Inez--for such Salambo would have me call her--as she sungsome sweet Spanish love songs, until the time came for her to retire, and then we two men, who had passed through many strange scenes, wereleft together. 

"You are very happy, " I said, when she had left the room. 

"Happy as man can be, " he replied. "My Inez through all these longyears was faithful to me, and has ever been as pure as an angel. Andyou, Tretheway, or rather, Trewinion, how did you find affairs at home?not well, I fear. "

I told him, just as I have written it in these pages, all that hadhappened since I left him. When I described my meeting with BillTregargus, and how I had heard that Ruth had died of a broken heart, driven to death by Wilfred, I saw the tears start to Salambo's eyes, and he eagerly asked what followed next. Then I told him of my meetingwith Wilfred, what we had said to each other, and how we had engaged ina deadly struggle on the cliff. 

"And didn't you kill him?" he cried, clenching his hands nervously;"didn't you hurl the viper on the rocks beneath?"

"Would you?" I said. 

"Would I?" he cried, "ay, and be proud that I had rid the world of sucha one. The saints would sanction such a deed. "

I told him what had happened, at which he gave a great sigh as if ofrelief, after which a scornful smile played around his mouth as I toldhim of the terrible sufferings I had endured. 

He did not speak a word during the recital of the visit to Ruth's home, but gave a start as I told him of my determination to visit her grave. Then he sat like one entranced as I described my entrance into thechurch, and related how I lifted back the stone from the vault. Breathlessly he sat while I narrated how I had removed the clasps fromthe coffin and looked on the still face of my darling; and then leaptlike a madman from his chair as I told how I felt her hand move. Afterthat, while I related the remainder of my story, he walked up and downthe room excitedly, sometimes laughing and again giving a cry ofgladness, until I came to that part where I told Ruth of my sins, whereupon he sat down again, still staring at me wildly. 

"And you left her because of that?" he said in astonishment, when I hadfinished. 

"I could do no other, " I replied. 

"Ah, but you could, " he cried. 

"How?" I asked. 

"Why, that action of hers did not express her aversion of you, or if itdid it could be easily overcome. You should have remained with her andshe would soon have forgiven you. "

"How could she when I could not forgive myself? Besides, if I hadstayed in England I should have been arrested as a murderer, and thatwould have brought her worse sorrow still. "

"That need not have been, " he replied. "You could have brought herhere, ay, and she would have gladly come, too. "

I dismissed this suggestion, for I knew it was not possible. 

For three weeks I remained with Salambo, then I felt that I could stayin Barcelona no longer, and must be on the move. Bitter memories stillurged me to go somewhere, it mattered not where, in search of peace. 

I told Salambo this, and he did his best to persuade me to stay withhim, Inez adding her entreaties to his; but I felt I could not. Something, I knew not what, impelled me to leave them, so I got a berthon board a vessel, and went away again to follow the calling I hadfollowed so many years. 

We shook hands at the vessel's side; he to go back to his home and tohappiness, and I to sail down the Mediterranean, still in search ofrest and peace. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE VOICE OF GOD

 Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea! And never a saint took pity on My soul in agony. --_The Ancient Mariner. _

For a year I sailed the Mediterranean as a common seaman. I thought, or rather, I hoped, that by hard work and mixing in the society of menwho had borne something of the brunt of life, besides visitingdifferent towns at which we had to call along the coast, I shouldbanish from my mind what became more and more terrible to me. It was avain hope. 

At the end of the year I despaired of finding happiness or peace again. "There is no such thing as forgiveness of sins!" I said, "and life isbut a bitter mockery. "

Ofttimes I wondered what had become of them at home. At night timeespecially I found myself thinking of Ruth and how she bore herterrible trials, and this led me to wonder what had become ofWilfred--had he ever been found, and, if so, had I been suspected ofhis death? Naturally, Bill Tregargus would think of me; but would hetell of his meeting with me? Then again, would Ruth feel it her dutyto denounce me as a murderer, even though I had saved her from the mosthorrible fate imaginable? I knew how great was her sense of right; Iknew, too, how much she had loved me, and I did not know what courseshe would take. 

But never one ray of light, or hope, or comfort came in the thickdarkness. Sometimes I was tempted to drown my troubles in drink, but Iremembered my father's death, and refrained from doing so. Again I wastempted to seek forgetfulness in what was unworthy, but I rememberedRuth and was saved from that. 

One day, about a year after I had left Salambo, the vessel in which Iwas sailing arrived at Smyrna, where we had to stay some days. Towardsevening we were at liberty to go into the town, and I as usual strolledaway alone. I had not gone far, when, lying on the side of the street, I saw a little crippled child who had apparently lost its way, or wasin some trouble, for it was sobbing bitterly. I came close and liftedthe child to its feet, and as I did so caught sight of its face. Itwas a little girl about five years old. She was by no means pretty, onthe contrary, her face was almost evil, and for a moment I felt likepassing on without taking further notice, when the prayer which hadconstantly been on my lips of late came to my mind. Hitherto I hadreceived no answer to it, but now I felt that I loved this littlecrippled, ugly child. 

In my constant visits to this coast I had picked up a smattering ofGreek, so I spoke to the little maiden, and asked her where she lived, and without hesitation she told me. With a strange feeling in my heartI took her in my arms, and carried her in the direction of her home. As I walked on I met some of my crew, who laughed to see me with mystrange burden, but I did not mind, nay, rather, I rejoiced because ofwhat I was able to do. And all the while I continued to breathe thisprayer, "Lord, help me to love. "

We reached her home at length. A miserable place it was, and I foundout that the little maiden had no father. He had died a few monthsbefore, but she had a brother and sister, both younger than herself, who lived with their mother. I did not stay long, although I felt astrange feeling of pity for the poor desolate ones, but I left somemoney with them and walked away alone. 

As I did so I remembered the words I had heard often in our old church. "Inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these My littleones, ye have done it unto Me. " "Unto Me"--unto whom? I called tomind that they were the words of our Lord, and I asked myself what itmeant. "Ye have done it unto Me. " I repeated again and again. "Howhave I done it unto the Lord?"

One day while I had been in Barcelona, I had gone into a church, andhad made confession of my sins to a priest. I remembered that Salambowas a Catholic, and I wondered if by making confession peace would cometo my heart. The priest had told me that I must forgive every one, anddo penance. But I was not able to forgive; as for penance, it seemedto me that no man could suffer worse penance than I had alreadysuffered. Besides, I remembered that the priest was an enemy to thefaith which I had been taught to believe, and so, perhaps, prejudicehindered him from helping me. 

His words returned to me that night, however, and I asked myself forthe hundredth time how it was possible for me to forgive Wilfred. 

"He is dead, and I have killed him!" I said to myself, "and yet Icannot forgive him. I hate him still. He has robbed me of everythingI hold dear. How can I forgive him? How can I find peace?" Then, asif in answer to my cry, came the words, "Come unto Me all ye thatlabour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. "

I do not know how, but the message of our Lord had a new meaning. Ihad heard it read a hundred times without ever thinking of its meaning, but now my heart throbbed with a new hope as I thought of it, "Comeunto Me, Come unto Me, and I will give you rest. " I kept repeating thepassage. 

"Lord, how can I come!" I cried, "and how can'st Thou hear my voice, the voice of a murderer?" and then, as if in answer to my cry, I seemedto hear the words, "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise castout!"

That night for the first time for years I truly prayed. I prayed forlight, for penitence, for forgiveness. Ay, I did come to Christ as apoor penitent wayward sinner, and even as I prayed, I caught myselfthinking of my brother Wilfred. Without realising what I was doing, Iremembered some of our boyish freaks. I thought of the happy days wehad spent together and of the times we had knelt side by side andprayed; and then, I know not how, I realised that the hatred I had feltfor Wilfred was gone. God had answered my prayer; I had learned tolove, and to love my enemy. 

Do not imagine that my burden was gone when I felt this. The memory ofthat terrible night became more vivid; but I was changed. I was notthe man I was on the night when I madly wrestled with my brother. Godhad answered my prayer, and in doing so He had changed me. 

I went back to the vessel a new man, with new feelings, new desires, new aspirations. 

Night came on again, and still the vessel remained in the harbour atSmyrna. I sat on the deck alone, looking sometimes at the lights ofthe town, and again at the moonlit sea, still longing and praying forrest. Hour after hour I remained, until my heart grew so sad that Ibegan to realise a misery as great almost as that I had known beforethe hatred I had for my brother was taken away. 

"Oh, God, what shall I do?" I cried at length. 

What was it that answered me? A voice from Heaven, or was it my ownheart? All I know is that, sounding from I know not where, I heard thewords, "Go home. "

I felt I could not do this. I could not bear to go back to the scenesof my misery and sin. I should be ever seeing the dead face of mybrother; there would be less rest for me there than here. Nor it wouldnot be safe to do so. Perhaps even now the officers of the law werein-- But I would not think of that. 

All through the night I struggled and prayed, but ever in answer camethe same dread message:

"Go home. Confess your sins. "

At length strength came; at length the battle was fought. I made up mymind to go home, to give myself up to the officers of the law as mybrother's murderer, and in a moment the burden was gone, and I was afree man. 

I will not try to describe with what feverish anxiety I made my wayback to England. I only know that some secret power seemed to beurging me back, and although I felt I was going to my death, I was gladwhen I landed in Falmouth harbour. 

Once on my native soil my love for life became strong, and I had tofight my battle over again, or I should have had to do so if I hadallowed myself time to think of it; but I stifled all thoughts ofescape, and hurried on to my old home. 

When I arrived within a mile or so of Trewinion, I paused, and began toponder as to what course would be best. Should I go to the villageconstable, Philip Pinch? I knew him well as a lad, and had seen himwhen I had been home the year before. Or should I go straight to theold house on the cliff, and there, before my mother and servants, confess my sins. 

The desire to see the old place was so strong that I determined to takethe latter course. If I surrendered myself to Philip Pinch I should betaken at once to the lock-up, and thence to Bodmin gaol, while if Iwent home I should have one more sight of the old rooms which I had notseen for more than eleven years. 

And so, with fast-beating heart and limbs trembling, I hurried onward. Feverishly I opened the postern door which admitted me into the groundssurrounding the house, and then, with a pain at my heart which no wordscan describe, I went up to the tower entrance and rang the bell. 

CHAPTER XXVII

WITHIN THE OLD HOME

Eleven long years. Yes, it was that since I had last stood by the halldoor. I had left it with a mad passion in my heart, with fierce griefraging within me; I returned saddened by sin, stained by crime, yetsubdued and repentant and hopeful. 

I could not help thinking of this as the bell clanged within the widehall and echoed through the silent house, while memories of the olddays flashed like lightning through my excited brain. 

How singular it was, that I, the rightful owner, should stand ringingfor admission like a stranger, and more singular still it seemed at thetime, that I should for long years have been a wanderer away from thehome of my fathers. And I stood there as a culprit. I was about toenter my home, only to come out a prisoner, a man accused of an awfulcrime. I was not sure if they would hang me, for his death was anaccident. I did not hurl him from me; he slipped from my hands inspite of me, and yet murder was in my heart. 

And thus I stood at my own door after eleven years of weary wandering, of lonely agony, of God-forsaken life, waiting excitedly, yet with anumbing pain at my heart, for the meeting with my mother. Ah, howshould I look her in her face when she asked me for her son; how shouldI withstand her withering scorn, her terrible wrath? It was eventime, and the October winds had shorn much of the foliage from the trees, what remained being russet brown. The wind, too, as it played amongstthe shivering leaves, told only a tale of decay and death. 

At length I heard a step along the stone, corridor, an aged step, asthough the one who came was weary and tired. All this I noted as Istood waiting while the door opened. 

It was Peter Polperrow, who had been servant of Trewinion long before Iwas born. He looked at me with some astonishment, not unmixed withfear. 

"Whom do you want to see, sir?" he asked. 

"Mrs. Trewinion, " I said. 

He eyed me from head to foot, as if afraid that by admitting me, heshould be doing wrong. 

"I cannot admit a stranger, " he said at length, "and I cannot let yousee my mistress until I know who you are. "

"Is she well?" I asked. 

Again he seemed to wonder why I should ask such a question, and heanswered sadly:

"Yes, considering all things; but what is that to you? Who are you andwhat do you want?"

I suppose I was not of a very prepossessing appearance. Like most ofmy race, I was large and strong, but my clothes were somewhat coarse, and my hands were brown and bare. Then my face was covered with a hugebrown beard, and I was tanned by long years of exposure to sea air. 

"Take me to some room where we can talk together, Peter Polperrow, " Isaid. 

"Peter Polperrow!" repeated the old man; "Who are you that you know myname?"

"I will tell you soon, Peter, " I answered; "meanwhile lead me to Mr. Roger's old room. I will promise you no harm. "

"Master Roger!" repeated the old man; "he has not been here for longyears. He has gone away, God only knows where for that matter; nearlyeverybody believes him to be dead, and so I suppose he'll never returnany more. But what do you know of Master Roger?"

"Lead me there and I'll tell you. I can tell you many things you wouldlike to know. "

He seemed to be staggered at my words. 

"Do you know him?" he asked. 

"Yes; I have seen him, and spoken with him. "

"What! Seen Mr. Roger!"

"Yes. "

New life seemed to come into his withered, aged form, a new interestcame into his aged face. 

"Seen him! When, oh when did you see Mr. Roger?"

"I have been with him to-day. "

Still the simple old man did not catch my meaning. He evidently couldnot think that I was Roger. 

"Where did you see him? Is he coming home?" he asked anxiously. 

"Take me to his room and I'll tell you. "

Without another word he led me to the room I used to call mine, Ifeeling a kind of shiver as I stood within the walls of the old house. 

At length we were alone, but it was dark there; we could scarcely seeeach other's faces. 

"Get a light, Peter, " I said. 

He hobbled away, and soon returned with a candle, revealing thefurniture of the room just as I left it years before. 

"No one has slept here since Mr. Roger left, " said Peter tremulously. "I don't think that anyone dare that knew him, and certainly no oneshould with my consent. "

"No one but me, Peter, " I said. 

"What do you mean? Who are you, and--and when did you see Mr. Roger?Tell me quickly. "

"Peter, " I said, "does nothing tell you? Hold the light to my face andthen think. Have you never seen me before?"

The old man held the candle as I had desired him, and looked steadilyat me, but there was no flash of recognition, no look of joyfulsurprise. 

"I doan't remember; I never seed 'ee before. "

He said this dreamily, and in so doing relapsed into the old Cornishvernacular. 

"Look again, Peter. Remember how Wilfred and I used to wrestle on theheadland. Remember how I frightened you by telling you that DeborahTeague had ill-wished you. Think of an awful storm, and that wreck onthe 'Devil's Tooth, ' and of the young lady I saved. Can't yourecognise me now?"

Then old Peter knew me, and tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks. 

"Oh, Master Roger, " he said, "thank God you've come home; but to comelike this, to come home as a----" But he could say no more, he sobbedlike a child. 

He had heard then. Somehow it must have been rumoured abroad that Ihad killed my brother, and so my presence was painful to him. PerhapsBill Tregargus had told that he had seen me, and heard me vowvengeance. Perhaps Ruth had in a moment of madness revealed theterrible truth!

"Do you think my mother will see me, Peter?" I said to the faithful oldservant as gently as I could. 

"Oh, Mr. Roger, " he sobbed, "you was so young, so beautiful, so happyin the old days, and I always looked forward to you becoming master, and servin' you till I died, and now to see you come home like this, aringin' at the door, when you should have walked straight in, and to beasked questions by me when----when----"

"Never mind, Peter, " I said, "it cannot be undone now, but still youwon't mind doing something for me now, for the sake of old days. "

"Do! I'll do anything, " he cried. 

"I'm going down to the library, " I said; "will you go and tell mymother to come there? but don't tell her it is I who want to see her. Simply say that a stranger is asking for her. "

I found my way into the library. Candles which cast a flickering lightwere placed on the table, making the room ghostly enough. 

How well I remembered the old place, and how memory after memory cameback to me as I waited there. I often thought of the time my fatherhad led me there on my fifteenth birthday, and told me of the curse ofmy race, and many other things which seemed to have cast a shadow overmy life. Then I thought of how terribly his words had been fulfilled. The story of the curse was no meaningless jargon. It contained awfultruths, which had been fulfilled in me. And yet I was not sure. Perhaps what had happened was the simple outcome of broken laws;perhaps Trewinion's curse was an old wives' fable. Still, the truththat my life was cursed was ever before me. I felt that even then Iwas, humanly speaking, branded with the hand of Cain. God had forgivenme, but man never would; the sin of my life could only be wiped out byyielding myself up to the hands of justice. 

And this I had come home to do. I was waiting there to tell my motherthat I had murdered her dearest son, that I had taken all joy andbrightness from her life, and then, having brought the greatest sorrowa son can bring upon a mother, I would go to meet my righteous judgment. 

Presently I heard the sound of footsteps, and soon my mother enteredthe room. 

I had no difficulty in recognising her. Ten years had worked butlittle change in her appearance. Certainly her hair was tinged withgrey, and the lines on her face were deeper, but otherwise there was nodifference. There was still the cold expression--which was ever thesame, except when her eyes rested on Wilfred--still the same statelycarriage. 

She glanced at me for a second, and then asked my business. 

"Mother, " I said, standing up. 

She looked at me keenly for a few seconds, then she cried hoarsely, "MyGod, what brought you here?"

"Mother, forgive me, " I said. 

I thought she recoiled from me as if in abhorrence. I know that shestepped back from me. 

"Why have you come?" she said, and I saw fierce hate gleaming from hereyes. "Have you not caused misery enough? Are you not content withthe lives you have poisoned? You went away; why did you ever comeback?"

"I could not rest, mother, " I said, humbly, for I felt I deserved herreproach. "I wanted to tell you all; I wanted your forgiveness. "

"Tell me!" she cried, "as though I did not know. Forgive you, how canI forgive you when but for you my boy might have been----"

"Let me tell you everything, mother, " I cried. "God knows I havesuffered much for what I have done, but He has forgiven me, and Iwanted your forgiveness before I die. "

"Do I not know? Have I not heard?" she went on. "Has it not been thetalk of the neighbourhood? Have you not ever been my son's enemy?When you were children it was you who had your father's affections, itwas you who saved the life of the only one my Wilfred loved, it was youwho stood between Wilfred and his right position. It was you who keptRuth from loving him, and although you went away you were ever theblack blot on his life. And now you have come back again. Why? Tobreathe more poison, to carry out more of your murderous designs. "

"No, mother, I have come to atone for the wrong I have done rather thanto do more wrong. "

"That can never be. You can never atone for the wrong you have done. You were born to curse my son's life, and you have done it. You havestripped my life of happiness, and now you come again, to take awaywhat paltry right, I suppose, you claim. "

"But, mother!"

"Call me not 'mother, ' you are no son of mine. "

"Not your son!" I cried, "how can that be?"

She did not answer me, and my memory flashed back to the time whenDeborah Teague had hinted that she was not my mother. Now her madjealousy of my position was explained. Now I knew why Wilfred was alland I was nothing. This woman was not my mother, and as a consequencetrue affection had not existed between us. 

"Whose son am I, then?" I continued, after a pause, "and who is mymother. "

"I shall not say, " she said, "it is enough that you are not my son. "

"And my sisters, Elizabeth and Katherine, are they not really mysisters? If not, who are they, and who are you?"

"I shall not tell you, " she said, and then stopped, as if in doubt. "Yes, I will though, " she continued. "You are not my son, for you arethe son of your father's first wife. No one here knew that he wasmarried before he married me, I made him promise none should. He neverbrought his first wife home here, for he married her privately. Hewould have brought her home when you were born had she not died. A fewmonths afterwards he married me, and I came home as his wife, and youpassed as my child, it being given out that we had been married morethan a year. When I had a child of my own I hated you, and when I sawyour father loved you best I hated you more. Now you know why I havealways been your enemy. " This information stunned me. I had notexpected this kind of meeting. As yet no definite word had been spokenconcerning the real object of my coming all the way from Asia. Idetermined, however, to do my duty and to confess my sin. Only when Ihad realised strength to do the right had I realised ease ofconscience, and because Wilfred was only my half-brother was no reasonwhy I should keep back the words that seemed to burn my lips. 

I was about to speak again and tell all when I saw a form in thedoorway which made me think my senses must have left me, and I hadbecome a madman. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

TREWINION'S CURSE

I rose from the chair on which I had been sitting during the latterpart of my conversation with my mother, and made one step forward. 

"Wilfred!"

"Roger!"

"You here!" I exclaimed bewildered. 

"Ah, my presence surprises you, does it?" he said, and every tone ofhis voice told of vindictiveness--hatred. 

For a moment I could not think; my head whirled and I staggered to myseat as though I were a drunken man. Wilfred was not dead, the guiltof his murder did not rest upon me, I was free--free! I had not hurledhim to his death on that awful night; my gloomy forebodings had no realfoundation. 

How had he managed to escape? I had stood with him alone on that dizzyheight, and as far as I remembered the cliff was perpendicular there;he had I felt slipped from me, and I had heard the sound of a fallingbody. 

"What do you here?" he exclaimed, after a minute of silence; "how daredyou return to your native shore thinking as you did. "

"I thought you dead, " I gasped, "dead by my hand, and I could not rest. I wandered from place to place, but I found no peace, until Idetermined to confess what I thought I had done. "

"And you came home for that?"

"For that. "

"Fool, fool that I was not to think of the idiot's conscientiousness, "he muttered, "then all might have been arranged even yet; but now heknows all, and I am undone. "

"But how did you manage to escape?" I asked, still in a dazed kind ofway. 

"I will tell you, " he replied, with a bitter, mocking laugh, "fornothing can be altered now. You thought you knew more than anyoneabout our coast, but I had found a place of which you knew nothing. There is a crevice and a broad ledge beneath that place where wewrestled, and finding that you were stronger than I, I determined to doby cunning what I could not do by brute force. So dragging you to thisplace I slipped from you, fell down upon this ledge, and allowed you tothink you had murdered me!"

He spoke with all the bitterness and cruelty of which any one could becapable, and as I thought of what I had suffered, of the hell in whichI had lived through long months, I realised something of the oldfeeling which I had entertained for him on that awful night. 

"And after all, I have served you out, " he went on. "I have enjoyedTrewinion's wealth for eleven years, and I have made the most of it. You may claim possession if you will; but precious little you willhave. I have mortgaged it up to every farthing it is worth, and if youhadn't come soon you would have found another family here. Even nowyou will have a difficulty in keeping the house above your head, " andhe laughed mockingly. 

As he said this, it struck me that he was trying to make me angry, andas I saw the wickedness and meanness of his heart, I felt a greatbitterness rising within me. Then I remembered what I felt atSmyrna--how I had prayed that God would help me to love, and in asecond the bitterness was gone, and all harsh feelings were turned topity. I saw the veil torn aside, and I knew that, much as I hadsuffered, he had suffered more; that deep as I had been in hell, he hadbeen in a hell yet deeper. I did not remember the deceit, the fraud, the treachery he had practised towards me, I only thought of thepossible Wilfred, the Wilfred as he might have been, and as Godintended he should be. 

"And what do you intend to do?" said my mother, for such I shallcontinue to call her. 

"Do, mother, " I said. "I shall do nothing. "

"Do! What can he do?" laughed Wilfred. "His hands are tied. I amglad on the whole that he has come, for the place is accursed. It hasnever given me anything but misery. I have been in a constant fever. And Roger will suffer more, I am glad to say. As for you, mother, serve you right if you never have another day's happiness. "

"Wilfred, my boy, " said mother, "how can you say so?"

"Say so, " repeated Wilfred, "because you have been my real curse. Whotaught me first to envy Roger? You. Who taught me to hate himafterwards? You. Who was ever at my elbow seeking to make memisrepresent his every action? You. Who taught me how to deceiveRuth? You. But for you I should have been content to be the youngerson, content to be the vicar of the parish; but bitterness wasinstilled into my heart as a child, until I hated him as I hate all theworld. I wish he had killed me a year ago, for then I would havehaunted him until life should be such a ghastly possession that heshould seek death. But, never mind. Trewinion's curse is fulfilled inhim; he has suffered, and he will have to suffer. "

"How?" I said, with pain at my heart. 

"How?" he said, "You have broken every condition of happiness, you haveviolated every law of our people. It is a law that Trewinion's heirshould never be away from the homestead for more than six months at atime, and you have been away eleven years. It is written in the curse, at which you have reason to tremble, that if you stray from God's purelaws you shall be cursed and crushed by a younger brother. The curseof our people ever rests upon the heir who hates, and you hate me. "

I did not believe in the "curse" at this time; I felt that Wilfred hada purpose in speaking thus, and yet a strange awesome feeling creptaround my heart as he spoke. Did Wilfred really believe in this legendof our people? I did not know. Certainly all our family had believedit in the past, and strange things had happened to our race. Wasill-luck ever to follow me? Was a dark pall ever to rest upon my life?

All this time I had been living in a sort of dream. I had as yetscarcely realised that Wilfred was not dead, as yet the awful weightthat had so long rested upon my shoulders was scarcely lifted. 

"Wilfred, " I said at length, "why you speak thus I do not know. For myown part I have ceased to believe in that old story which has beenhanded down from generation to generation. Or if I believe it, Ibelieve that it is as applicable to the rest of the world as to me. Ifwe sin we suffer, if we hate we live in hell. I have sinned, and Ihave suffered, I have hated and I have been in hell. But I trust it isover now. I have repented of my sin, and I believe God has forgivenme. I do not believe a curse can rest upon those whose hearts are fullof love. "

"But that does not free you, for you hate--you hate me. "

"No, Wilfred, no, I love you. "

"Love me! You do not know. I have always schemed to ruin you. All mylife I have hated you; all my life I have sought to thwart your everypurpose. All the misery you have had has been through me, your yearsof homeless wandering have been due to me. It was I who sought to takeaway the love of the woman to whom you had given your heart, and sinceyou left the last time, and she believed that you did not intend tokill me, I have been to her and told her that you used the basest meansto kill me, and that I only escaped by a miracle. I tell you I haveblackened your life at every possible opportunity, I have robbed you ofthe best part of your manhood, through me you will die lonely, forsaken, despairing; do you hate me now?"

"And does Ruth believe you?" I said. 

"Yes, " he shrieked, "and she shudders at the mention of your name. Youare the terror of her life, and I have made you so. "

Again I had to struggle or I should have hated him again. Ay, I beganto hate him in spite of my trouble, and then I prayed as I had prayedaway in Smyrna, "Lord, help me to love, " and even as I prayed all mybitter feelings passed away, as they had passed away then. 

"Brother Wilfred, I love you still, " I said. 

He seemed staggered at my words, and he turned to his mother as thoughin astonishment. 

"Are you going to be a fool?" cried she, "are you going to yield to hisfolly? Surely, if he is a fool you need not be one. He believes thatTrewinion's curse is an old wives' fable--let him believe it. But youare the younger brother, and according to it you have the power tocurse him. Curse him, then; let all the darkness that can befall aTrewinion fall on him. If he be married, let curses fall on him andhis wife. If he has children, let curses rest upon them. While helives let darkness ever be in him and around him, and when he dies maypowers of darkness attend him even as they attended his father'sfather. "

My mother spoke in a voice full of passion, and I knew if such a cursecould take effect she would hurl it at me. Her words, too, seemed tofan Wilfred's hate into a flame, a hatred which, I thought, lessenedwhen I told him I loved him. 

"Ah, yes, " he cried, "you do not believe in those lines our fathershowed you on your fifteenth birthday They have become to you but anidle tale, but you will know they are true, and you will know, too, that Wilfred cannot be thwarted without making you suffer. Listen tothem:--

 If from God's pure laws he stray, Trewinion's power shall die away, His glory given to another, And he be cursed by younger brother. Then this son, though born the first, By the people shall be cursed; And for generations three, Trewinion's heirs shall cursed be. 

I tell you you cannot escape, and if there is any power in the curse ofthe younger brother, I call it upon you now. "

"Doan't'ee be a vool no longer, " said a voice at the door; "Stop!" saida strange, croaking voice, and turning, I saw the form of DeborahTeague, more bent and more wrinkled than when I last saw her. 

"I seed Maaster Roger comin' up here, " said the old dame, "and Ivollied un. You've a gived me a good dail of liberty in this ere'ouse, and so no noatice was took of me when I stopped and 'arkened atthe door. I knaw every word that ev bin zed, and this I can tell 'ee, no curse can hurt Maaster Roger now. "

"Why?" asked my mother. 

"Why? Because you ca'ant hurt nobody who's heart es vull of love. Curse hes cheldren you may if ever he do 'ave any, ay even to the thirdgeneration; because you be a Trewinion, but he you ca'ant curse, for'ee do love hes enemies, and he do bless them that do curse him. Ef hewere ere with hes heart full of revenge and hatred, then 'twould bedefferent, but you ca'ant hurt un now. "

"Then, " cried Wilfred, "if there is truth in this story, I curse hischildren and his children's children, for he has robbed me ofeverything that makes life worth the living. "

When the old woman had gone I turned and looked at my mother's face. Amarked change had come over it in the last few minutes. She seemed tobe making a great resolve. 

"Mother, " said Wilfred, "what are we to do?"

But she did not speak; a stony stare had settled on her face. 

"What is the matter with you?" asked Wilfred, anxiously; "tell me?"

Still she did not answer him, but instead stepped out into the hall, where old Peter Polperrow stood waiting as if he expected somewonderful transformation. 

"Tell every servant to come at once into the library, " she said quietly. 

Meanwhile Wilfred and I waited, wondering what she intended to do whenher order was obeyed. 

CHAPTER XXIX

MOTHER AND SON

A few minutes later all the servants assembled in the library. Most ofthem were old and trusted, and had been in the house for many years. There was a look of eager expectancy on their faces, as though they hadheard strange news. 

"Do you know who this is?" said my mother, pointing towards me. 

Evidently Peter Polperrow had told them of my arrival, for without amoment's hesitation they answered:

"It's Mr. Roger. "

"You recognise him, then?"

"Ay, that we do. "

My mother looked at Wilfred with a yearning look, and then turningtowards them said, "Mr. Roger left this house eleven years ago. Many of you were servantshere then, and since then you have served my son and me faithfully; butyour rightful master has come home, and now I resign all authority andcommand to him. "

"But mother----" I interrupted. 

"Stop, " she went on, "I must do my duty. It will not be muchlonger"--turning to the servants--"that I shall be with you, but this Imust confess; I have been the means of Mr. Roger being away from you;through me you have been deprived of your rightful master. "

It must have cost her a terrible struggle to say this, for she was aproud woman, and regarded servants as inferior beings to herself, and, as with blanched face and trembling step she left the room immediatelyafter, I realised that she had come to some resolution which as yet wasunknown to me. 

Meanwhile all the older servants crowded around me, each expressinggladness because of my return, and gladly acknowledging me as master. And all the while Wilfred sat like one entranced, never moving, neveruttering a word. 

They left us at length and thus Wilfred and I were alone together. Fora time neither spoke, then I held out my hand to him. 

"Wilfred, " I said, "let us shake hands and be brothers once more. "

"You are no brother of mine, " he said, without moving. 

"We are both blessed with the same father, Wilfred, " I said. 

"But not with the same mother. You know that. Has she told you?"

I nodded. 

For a minute he did not speak, but looked at me with such a stony starethat his face seemed entirely changed; then he said slowly, butdistinctly:

"I hate you. "

"Come, Wilfred, " I said, "let the dark past be buried. We can makesome arrangement about the property, if any remains, that will beagreeable to us both. I have no heart to quarrel about money. "

"Share with you, when I have been master and have had entire control?"he said. "Never!"

"Nay, Wilfred, be not so hard. Don't let us remember those things thatwill cause bitter feelings, but think of what is bright and pleasant. "

"Bright and pleasant, " he answered; "what is there bright and pleasantfor me now you have returned? Nay, nay, I am accursed; but, byheavens, so are you. "

"And you will not shake hands?"

"Never. "

At this moment a servant entered the room with the message that ourmother wanted to see us both in her private sitting room. 

Neither of us delayed in answering her summons, and in a minute more wewere seated near her. I thought I detected a change in her face as Ientered; something of her harshness had gone, and a look of tenderlonging had taken its place. 

"Mother, " I said, as naturally as I could, "I have been very forgetfuland unbrotherly, but I have heard nothing of my sisters, are they welland happy, can you tell me anything about them?"

"Both are married and both are happy and well, " she replied absently;"but we can talk of them on some other occasion. I want us to speak ofsomething else just now. "

"Yes, mother. "

"Roger, will you give us an account of what you were doing and whereyou went during those years you were absent from us. "

I told her all, not in such great detail as I have written it here, butI told her enough to give her the information she desired to know. Ittook me a long while, but she sat patiently during the whole time, listening attentively to every word, while Wilfred sat with the samestony stare upon his handsome face. 

When I had finished she rose and took Wilfred's right hand in her lefthand, and my right hand in hers and tried to draw us together. 

"Roger and Wilfred, shake hands, " she said. 

"Gladly, " I replied. 

"Never, " cried Wilfred, drawing his hand away. "Mother, do not thinkthat the hatred of a lifetime can be destroyed in a moment of weakness. It took you years to teach me to hate Roger; you cannot make me lovehim in a minute. I will never take his hand. I will be his enemy aslong as I live. In my heart of hearts I have cursed him, and I willnot be friendly now because of a whim of yours. "

"Wilfred, " she said, "as you value my happiness, as you value your ownhappiness, here and hereafter, do not refuse. Roger, " she continued, turning to me, "great as has been your misery and loneliness, it hasnot been nearly as great as mine. Oh, if you have suffered for yoursin, I have suffered a thousand times more for mine. Morning, noon andnight, I have had no rest, no comfort. When I married your father Ipromised that, God helping me, I would do my duty by you, but as soonas Wilfred was born I hated you, and I vowed that he should beTrewinion's heir and not you. No one but Wilfred knows how I haveschemed, deceived, sinned for him, and now, when I am getting old andam yearning for love, he, my only son, has turned against me. Oh, Imight have known that the harvest of my sin could not bring happiness;but I loved him so, and trusted him so fully. Oh, Wilfred, you cannever have anything but misery while you are your brother's enemy. Learn to love him, Wilfred, and even yet all may be well. "

"No, I cannot, and I would not if I could, " he cried, savagely. "Bothof you have helped to blacken my life. You taught me to hate anddeceive, and he, in spite of all we have done together, has thwartedour every purpose. And now why should I love him, or you either. Nay, I hate you both. "

Never shall I forget the cry she gave, so full of anguish and despair. 

"Hate me, Wilfred!" she gasped. 

"Yes!" he cried, harshly. "You taught me to be greedy, and selfish, and deceitful, but you did not tell me of the futility of money andposition to satisfy, nor yet of the terrible power which they have, nonot even when you knew they would mock me. But for you I should havebeen poor perhaps, but still happy, while now there's nothing butmisery for me here, and hereafter. I tell you I believe we both soldour souls to the devil to get rid of Roger and obtain Trewinion, andnow he is chuckling over his bargain. "

"But have you no love for me, your mother?" she cried in anguish. 

"None, " cried he, cruelly, "I love nothing but myself. "

Never before have I witnessed the payment in full of the ghastly wagesof sin as I did then. Never shall I erase from my memory the awfullook upon her face. 

"Then, Wilfred, for your own sake, if not for mine, learn to love, toforgive. Naught but misery can come from sin, I know it too, too well. "

"I care not, " he answered. "There was only one that I ever reallyloved, and that love you cankered. But I did love her, more than aughtelse, and she has been taken from me, and he has done it. With her bymy side I could have forgiven you, I could have learned to forget mygreed; but now it can never be, and although I believe that I have atlast made her hate Roger, she still despises me. And now what have Ileft to live for? Nothing but this; I will be a curse to him. Rogersays he believes that the old stories about our house are false, butstrange things have happened, and they say that the younger brother cancurse the elder. I know what Deborah Teague said; but I repeat it, ifI cannot curse him I will curse his children and his children'schildren. If ever I wed and have children I will teach them to hateall that is near and dear to him. You told me to do so this verynight, and although you have suddenly changed your wishes, I will abideby your command. "

"Oh, God, " my mother cried out in agony, "my punishment is greater thanI can bear. My own son, for whom I have sacrificed everything, hasdiscarded me, spurned me. My daughters have left me, no one loves menow. "

No man with any manhood left in him could have refrained from pityingher, so helpless, so forsaken. My heart was strangely stirred withinme, and tears started to my eyes. 

"Mother, " I said, "I love you, will you let me be your son?"

"You, Roger! Why I have always been your enemy, it is I who has causedyou all your misery and pain. You cannot really love me?"

How fondly she looked at Wilfred even yet, as though she hoped for sometender word or look, but he only walked up and down the room, mutteringsavagely, yet casting furtive looks towards us. 

"I cannot love you as I love Wilfred, " she said; "he has discarded me, but I shall love him as long as I live. I am a poor, weak, selfishwoman, but I want your love, Roger, and your care; if you can forgiveme, and love me. "

I laid her poor, weary, aching head upon my breast, where she seemed tofind ease in sobbing out her grief. 

No sooner did Wilfred see this than, with a mocking laugh, he walkedout of the room, leaving us together. 

"Will you kiss me, Roger, my son?" she said, presently. 

I kissed her, while the tears trickled down my cheeks, and I wonderedmuch to see her who had been so haughty, so cold, become subdued andpenitent. 

CHAPTER XXX

THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT

No words can describe how strange I felt when I stood again in my ownbedroom alone. There was the old bed at the corner of the room, justas I had left it long years before. Indeed, nothing in the room hadbeen changed, and it seemed at times as though I had never been away atall, that the past eleven years were only a long dream, and that I wasstill the gay young Roger who sported on the headland with his youngerbrother. 

I was very excited, and although I had not slept for many hours, I didnot feel at all like retiring to rest. I was glad to sit alone, andlisten to the roll of the waves on the beach, and think of the strangeevents which had taken place. 

And then there was Ruth. Although I had scarcely mentioned her namesince I had arrived she was ever in my mind. Could I now ask her towed me? My hands were free from the stain of blood, and hatred was nolonger in my heart. Surely I might go boldly to her now, and tell herall I desired her to know, yet on the other hand I remembered her lookwhen I last saw her face, the shudder with which I was sure she hadrecoiled from me. Besides, Wilfred had told me that he had more thanever poisoned her mind against me. And yet I loved her so much! Allthe experiences during the eleven years of my wandering life had butstrengthened my love for her, and that love for her was, I believe, theonly link that held me to Heaven, the only power that saved me fromfalling into hell. And thus I mused on, when--

What was that I heard?

At first it seemed like a stealthy step, but I was not sure; then a fewseconds later I thought I heard someone whispering. I opened my doorand listened, but could detect nothing. 

"It is my fancy, " I said, "or else the servants are preparing to getup. "

I did not know the time, but I knew that morning must soon be breaking. A drowsy sensation was now creeping over me, so I prepared for a fewhours' rest, but as I lay down on the old bed I had used as a boy Idistinctly heard the sound of horses' hoofs; They seemed a good wayoff, but I was not sure, as the night was still, and the sound wouldtravel far and fast; but there was nothing to trouble about, so with asweet feeling of restfulness I fell asleep. 

When I awoke it was broad daylight, and with a glad feeling at heart Idressed quickly and looked out of the window. Yes! I was home atlast. The long bitter years of hatred and remorse were behind, thefuture, though cloudy, could never be as dark as the past had been. 

I heard a knock at the door, and on opening it found my mother standingwith a look of expectancy on her face. She gazed up into my eyes, asif in doubt about her reception, and then allowed herself to be foldedin the arms of her rough sailor son. I knew all the time it was not mylove she craved for, but she was glad even for that, so hungry was herheart. 

"Roger, do you know it is past mid-day?" she said, with a sad smile. "I thought something was the matter with you, but on listening at thedoor I heard you breathing regularly, and so let you sleep on. Butcome to the breakfast-room, I'm sure you must be hungry. "

We went down the broad staircase together arm in arm, while theservants flitted around excitedly at the advent of Mr. Roger. Howgladly, how proudly they waited on me, while my mother told me that theinhabitants of the parish had arranged to have a bonfire, and that alot of festivities had been arranged in honour of my arrival! I seemedto be living a new life, to be breathing a new atmosphere, and so kindwas my mother to me that by and by I broke down and sobbed like a child. 

Then we went out on the headland together, she holding my arm, whilethe servants smiled and whispered one to another that it was "somethin'like. "

By and by, after talking of many things relative to what had happenedin the years of my happiness, she said:

"Roger, you still love Ruth?"

"More than ever, mother. "

"I shudder when I think of the dreadful fate from which you saved her. "

"You heard of that, then?"

"Heard of it? Why, it was the talk of the county. The more so as youso suddenly disappeared. "

"Did no one know why?"

"No one except Wilfred and I, unless you told Ruth, I fancy you didtell her, for when Wilfred and I went over to see her she seemed amazedat the sight of him. "

"And Wilfred told her of our struggle?"

"Yes, Roger. "

"He deceived her. "

"He tried to. I do not know if he succeeded. "

I saw this turn in the conversation pained her, so I was silent. 

After a few minutes she spoke again. 

"Are you going to Morton Hall?"

"I do not know. "

"Why?"

"I am afraid she hates me, loathes me. I could not bear to see herturn away from me in terror. "

"I wish you would go, Roger. "

"Why, mother?"

"Because I love her, and I think, I am sure, you will never be happyunless you do. "

"But, mother, do you think that----"

"Nay, Roger, I would not tell you if I could. It is for you todiscover that. "

I could not bear to talk any more about it just then, so to change theconversation I asked her if she had seen Wilfred. 

"No, " she replied, "but I am not surprised at that he has gone away forweeks together sometimes, and I have had no idea where he has been. "

I was about to ask another question when I heard a voice behind me. 

"Right glad to see 'ee, Maaster Roger. "

"Bill Tregargus, " I said, "and I am glad to see you. "

There was an uneasy look on his face, however, and although he touchedhis hat to my mother, and made many remarks about his happiness atfinding me home once more, I saw that something was wrong. 

"Cud I ave a vew words in private with 'ee?" said Bill, at length. 

"Certainly, " I said, and my mother, evidently thinking that Bill hadcome relative to some matter connected with the estate, left us. 

"Ave 'ee seed yer brother, sur?" said Bill, as soon as she was gone. 

"Yes, last night. "

"'Scuse me, sur; but was 'ee friendly?"

I did not resent this question, for Bill knew of our past relations, heknew what I had said when I heard of Wilfred's cruelty to Ruth. 

"No, " I said. 

"You'll forgive me, Maaster Roger, " went on Bill, "but I've got araison for axin'; was anything said about Miss Ruth?"

"Nothing definite. Why?"

"Maaster Roger, " said Bill, as if feeling his way, "people do zay as'ow he will never stand no chance wi' Miss Ruth now, but do 'ee think'ee wudd'n try to kip you from 'avin' 'er?"

"I think he would, " I cried. "But what then?"

"Maaster Roger, I'm afraid he'll bait 'ee after all, ef you doan'tmaake haste. "

"I don't understand; tell me what you mean quickly. "

"Well, Maaster Roger, yesterday I was over to Polcoath Downs. As youknaw, 'tes 'bout fifteen mile from here. I've got a brother as do livethere, the waun younger'n me. You remember Daniel, doan't 'ee?"

"Very well. Go on quickly. "

"Well, I 'adn't seed un for a long time, so I stayed till nearlymornin', and as I was comin' on the road 'bout an hour afore daylight Iheerd the sound of hosses. I was goin' down a steep hill when I heerdit, and I wondered who twas comin' at that time. In a minute more Iseed two men comin' ridin'. They wa'ant goin' very vast, so I couldhear 'em talkin. When I got to the bottom of the hill I sed to meself, I wan't let those chaps zee me, so I gets under a bush cloase to a poolbeside the road. As luck wud 'ave it, they got off their 'osses rightagainst where I was, so as to let um drink, and then I seed that one ofthem was yer brother, and tother a strange chap, as Maaster Wilfred'ave got very thick wi'. "

"Who was he?"

"I don't knaw, 'cept 'ee's a bad un. 'Ee don't do nothin' but loafaround the Manor and the kiddley-wink (beershop). I'm told as 'ow he'sterrible thick wi' Maaster Wilfred, who do kip un to do all soarts ovdirty jobs. I've 'eerd 'ee's from Plymouth, and he goes by the name ofJake Blackburn. "

"Well?"

"Well, Maaster Wilfred wur sayin' somethin' about his brother comin''ome again and wishin' he knawed he wur comin', as then Jake cud 'avestopped un from comin' home. Then, Maaster Roger, I 'ad a sort o'notion 'ow that you'd come 'ome again, and I wur glad. "

"What then? Tell me quickly. "

"Then your brother said as 'ow he'd pay you out now, and that, thoughyou might get the old estate, which was mortgaged, you shud never 'avethe girl you loved. "

"Why? How?"

"I couldn't rightly make out, but I heerd Maaster Wilfred zay that he'dkill yer weth hes own 'and rather than you shud ever 'ave her. Then I'eerd Jake Blackburn ax what 'ee'd got to do wi' that, and your brothertold 'im that ef Miss Ruth didn't come down from 'er 'igh 'oss, there'dbe some work for 'im to do. "

"You don't mean to say that Wilfred would use this villain to killRuth?"

"I don't say nothin', sur, but I knaw Maaster Wilfred wur awful mad, and wur tellin' Jake that ef 'ee ded'n do as he was told he'd put a'angman's rope round es nuddick. I 'eerd un zay, too, that he wud tell'er you was dead, and that it wur 'er place to 'ave him, and if shewudden--well, and then they was whisperin' one to another. "

"And are you sure they were going there?"

"As sure as I can be, sur. I 'eerd em zay they'd git to Morton Hall byten o'clock. "

"And now it's after two. Why did you not tell me before?"

"I've bin three times this mornin' sur, but they zaid they wudden wake'ee. I've told 'ee as soon as ever I cud. "

I could not believe in what Bill had said, it was too terrible, but Ihurried madly back to the house, he keeping by my side. 

"Do you really think he is capable of such a thing as you hinted at, Bill?" I said. 

"I'm sure 'ee's capable of doin' any devilish thing, " said Bill;"beside, 'e've bin drinkin' 'ard lately. "

The thought was ghastly in the extreme, and yet as I remembered thelook on his face the night before, when he said he would ever seek tocurse my life, I felt the truth of Bill's words. He had tried tomurder me in order to retain wealth, would he not murder her ratherthan see her make me happy? Then the thought came to me--was this apart of the curse? For the past eleven years I had never known realhappiness. Before I had raised the cup to my lips it had been dashedout of my hand. Was it to be now as it had ever been? For a moment Ibelieved that an evil power attended me, and that I could not ridmyself of the evil to which I had been born. Then I thought of oldDeborah Teague's words. "You ca'ant curse waun that do love everybody, and whose heart es full ov love. " This comforted me; not that Ibelieved particularly in anything she might say, but because her wordssounded true. 

Anyhow, if such were the case, I would resist my fate, I would struggleto the end, and God would help me. 

I rushed to the stables, where two or three men lolled around. 

"Are the horses all in the stables?" I asked. 

"No, sur, there be two gone. "

"Good ones?"

"The best we've got, sur. Brown Molly es a thora breed, sur, and willrun till she do drop; and Prince is nearly so good. "

"Have you a good horse now?"

"There's Bess. She's a bra mare, jist brok in, sur. "

"Saddle her at once for me, and stop! Do you know who has the othertwo horses?"

"No, sur; but Master Wilfred do often take hosses without we knawin''bout it. "

"Just so. Bring Bess to the hall door immediately. "

I rushed into the house, where I found my mother. I told her all Billhad related to me. As I did so I saw her face pale to the very lips. 

"Oh, Roger, oh Roger!" she cried, "save him. "

"Do you think Bill's surmise correct?"

"Oh, Wilfred, Wilfred, you will kill me yet, " she murmured. "Ridefast, Roger, ride for your life. Don't wait a moment if you would saveher, and save him!"

The horse was brought up to the door at that moment, a powerful blackmare, well fed and exercised. 

I kissed my mother and prepared to go, but she held my arm for a moment. 

"Be careful and watchful, " she said, "he's very cunning; but, oh, myGod, save him from this!"

I jumped into the saddle, and in another minute was riding with a fastbeating heart towards Morton Hall. 

CHAPTER XXXI

TO THE RESCUE

For the first mile I rode almost without heeding the direction I wastaking, or thinking of what was the best way to proceed. 

My mind was too full of terror. Perhaps even then Wilfred with hisdevilish cunning was weaving a net from which my darling could notescape. Aided by the villain with whom he had been so friendly, hemight destroy my happiness for ever. And so, unthinkingly, I allowedthe mare to carry me whither she would. It did not matter, however. By a strange instinct, which I am sure some animals possess, she seemedto divine the road I wanted to go, and plunged forward joyfully. 

I was no light weight to carry. It is true that the past year's sorrowhad worn me very much, so that there was but little flesh on my great, gaunt frame; but I still weighed nine score pounds, and thus would tireany horse that had to carry me a long distance. I could not haveridden a more noble animal, however; I think she united all thequalities of strength and speed, and tore along the road as though shefelt my weight no more than if I had been a feather. It was but littleI had done in riding during the eleven years I had been away, but Ifound I had not lost my old skill, and soon I was able to bring BlackBess into entire subjection, and settled down into a good swinging trot. 

I longed to gallop the gallant animal all the way, so anxious was I toreach Morton Hall; but I knew that she could not hold out at such aspeed, so I patted her neck and gave her a few kind, caressing words, at which she whinnied a little and tossed her head proudly, as if totell me she was prepared to go as fast as I liked. 

Thirty-five miles. It was a long stretch of land, and difficult tocover quickly. In most places it was very hilly, which would oftencheck our speed. I calculated, however, to get to Morton village infour hours. It was just after two o'clock when we started; by six weshould get there if nothing was amiss. It was in the month of October, so that the day would be nearly gone ere I should see the old villagechurch, which a year before had been the scene of such a wonderfulevent. 

After riding an hour I was able to think more clearly, and to form someidea as to the steps I should take. I remembered that I had a cunning, unscrupulous man to deal with, one who, in his disappointment andjealousy, would stop at nothing. There were but little data on which Icould build my theories, or form my plans. The first question thatappealed to me was, What was Wilfred likely to do? What steps would hetake?

From what Bill Tregargus had told me I gathered that he was going totell her that I was dead, and again press upon her his suit, and thenif she would not listen to him to--well, I knew not what. 

But I was sure he would not dare to harm her in her own home, where shewould be surrounded by so many servants and friends. No, he would seekto lure her away alone; where I could not guess; but knowing Wilfred asI did, I felt sure that this would be his plan. The execution of thisplan would, however, be delayed till dark, so my hope lay in arrivingbefore sunset. 

Let no one think, then, that I was riding on a scheme of vengeance; onthe contrary, my intention was to save. I hoped to save Wilfred fromcommitting a dark deed, I longed to save Ruth from becoming a villain'sprey. I had no desire to hurt either Wilfred or his accomplice. Nogood could come of that. To meet evil with evil is useless for anygood purpose. 

At length my heart began to beat loudly, for I knew I was nearingMorton Hall. I passed by the farm where a year before a buxom maidenhad given me some new milk, and when I had ridden a little farther Isaw a great clump of trees which I knew surrounded Morton Church. Itwas well that the journey was nearly over, for Black Bess was coveredwith foam, and by her spreading nostrils and hard breathing I knew shewould be glad to rest. 

Knowing nothing of Wilfred's schemes, I had no definite plans made; butI had been revolving a dozen in my mind, and determined, if necessary, not to hesitate to take bold action. 

Just before coming to the village, I decided that it would not be wiseto go to the inn. My brother would very likely stable his horses thereand for aught I knew might have watchers on every hand. Where should Igo, then, so as not to be noticed?

When last there, I discovered that there was no need for me to go intothe village in order to reach Ruth's house. Perhaps it would be betterto ride there direct, and make the necessary inquiries. Perhaps--Godknows how I hoped it--she was still in the house, Wilfred not havingbeen able to concoct a plan sufficiently plausible to get her awayalone. If so, I should meet her, and be able to warn and protect her. 

This I would do, then, but I dared not go dusty, dishevelled, travel-stained as I was. So I got off my horse, and washed myself in astreamlet that trickled beside the road. Then I picked up a wisp ofstraw and rubbed down the mare. It was but little I could do for her, but I wiped the foam from her, and made her look less conspicuous thanshe had been before. This done, I mounted again and rode direct to theHall. 

How my heart thumped as I neared the stately old mansion, and how Ihoped and prayed that I might be successful in my mission! I thoughtnot of myself now. My one thought was to save Ruth, and to saveWilfred. 

Daylight had begun to fade as I rode up to the Hall door. A stable boyhad seen and followed me. Without a moment's hesitation I flung myselffrom the faithful creature who had borne me so gallantly over thoselong weary miles. 

"Take this mare, rub her down well, feed her well, and wrap her upwarmly. And, stay--don't give her too much water. "

He looked at me in astonishment, then a look of recognition came intohis face. Evidently he had seen me before, for he grinned and touchedhis cap as he said, "I'll zee to 'er proper, sur. "

I would have followed him and made sure that he did as I commanded;for, brought up among horses as I had been, I had learnt to care forthem, and to see them properly provided for, but now, other matterswere more pressing. So I threw him a crown piece, and hurried to thedoor. 

Again the bell clanged through the old hall, again I stood with beatingheart waiting for the answer, for now I was nearing the great crisis ofmy life--at least, it seemed so to me then. 

The old servant I had seen a year before met me, and despite the dimlight recognised me in a second--joyfully, I thought. 

"Mr. Trewinion, sir, " he said, quickly, "walk in. "

Again I entered the house and with a fast beating heart. 

"Is your mistress at home?" I said, hastily. 

He looked up at me anxiously, I thought. 

"Yes, sir, " he replied, "she is at home; that is, sir, she is not athome now, but we expect her home every minute. "

"Has she been far away?"

"No, sir; oh, no, she's only gone to the village. "

"Do you know why?"

"Why, sir!" he said, looking at me strangely. "She's not gone into thevillage exactly, but to a little cottage just outside. You see, sir, she's mighty good to the poor, and she do visit 'em and carry things to'em. "

"Do you know the one she's gone to visit now?"

"Oh, yes, sir. She's a bedridden old woman. Mistress has been to seeher many a time. "

"Did she walk or ride?"

"Walked, sir; you see, she couldn't ride to Mrs. Bray's, her cottage isamong the fields, and there's no carriage road. "

"She is not gone alone?"

"No, sir, " said the man, evidently wondering more and more at myquestions, "one of the servants went with her to carry the basket. 

"Have there been any callers here to-day?"

"No, sir, no one has been but Mrs. Bray's little maid, who came to saythat her grandmother was worse. "

"Ah! You are sure it was Mrs. Bray's granddaughter; you know the maid?"

"Know her, sir! Of course, know'd her ever since she was a baby; youdon't think that----"

"How long ago did this girl come?"

"About two hours, sir. "

"And how long since your mistress left?"

"Directly after the little maid. "

"And the servant who is gone with her is trustworthy?"

"Oh, yes, sir; why sir, you don't----"

"Where is this old woman's house? Tell me quickly. "

He told me the direction, and assured me that by going across the parkI could reach it in less than ten minutes. 

"I'll go and meet her, " I said, as calmly as I could, "but if shearrives before I do, say nothing of my being here. I shall not be muchlater than she. But point out the road by which she will come. "

He did so, and then wanted to send a servant with me; but of this Iwould not hear. I wanted no prying, gossiping servants to be around. The truth was I feared Wilfred had succeeded in sending Mrs. Bray'sgranddaughter on a false errand, or else had watched her and found outhers. At any rate, I felt sure that he would be cognisant of thechild's visit, and would use it as a means to carry out his designs. 

I hurried across the park like a deer when the hounds are behind it, cleared the fence that lay at its utmost extremity, and struck into afootpath that led to the cottage. The way was very lonely. A fewstraggling houses formed the village and the cottage was some distancefrom them. Two weak, defenceless women could easily be met andoverpowered and without anyone being the wiser. 

Wilfred was not likely to attempt to carry out his designs in daylight, so if the summons to Mrs. Bray's bedside were genuine, the chances werethat Ruth would be allowed to pay the visit first. Perhaps she mightbe there even now, and if I went a little faster I might be in time tosee her before she left the cottage. Filled with this thought, Irushed rapidly on to the little thatched house, and knocked at the door. 

A little girl came, with a tallow candle in her hand. 

"Does Mrs. Bray live here?" I said, pantingly. 

"Iss, sur, she do, " replied the child. 

"Is she alone?"

"Iss, sur, " wonderingly. 

"Has any one been to see her this afternoon?"

"Iss, sur. Miss Murten 'ev bin. "

"Miss Morton, " I said, with a glad feeling at heart. "How long has shebeen gone?"

"Not more'n 'bout vive or ten minutes, sur. "

"Has she gone down the lane?" I said, pointing to the one I took to bethat of which the old servant at the Hall had told me. 

"Iss, sur, " said she, timidly. 

Without another word I rushed down the narrow lane which led to adistant farm, then coming to a stile I jumped over it into a field. 

Daylight was now quite gone, and I knew that I must be careful. True, I did not know that Wilfred and Blackburn had come to the village atall, but I must be ready for any emergency. 

I could dimly see the footpath by the hedgerow, so I ran noiselesslyalong it, until I reached the end of the field, then I stood upon thestile and listened. All was silent as death. 

"Surely, " I said. "My fears are in vain. Ruth has gone quietly backto her home. If I am quick I shall overtake her. "

With this hope in my heart, yet feeling terribly anxious, I rushedalong the hedgeside, and had nearly traversed the length of the fieldwhen I heard what I thought was a smothered scream. 

The sound was near me, too, it seemed to come from the other side ofthe fence which was just before me. 

With beating heart I went stealthily forward and looked over the hedgeinto the other field. 

In the dim light I saw four figures. 

But there was no struggling. They seemed to have only just met, and asI looked I heard a voice that set my every nerve quivering. 

"Wilfred, " said the voice, which I knew was Ruth's, "how came you here?"

"I came to see you, Ruth, " said Wilfred in low, subdued tones. 

"But why did you not go to the house? I have been home all day, and mydoors are never closed to any one bearing your name. "

"I have met you here because I want to see you alone, and because Ihave some strange things to tell you. "

"Well, speak on, " she said, haughtily; "here, Clara, come and stand bymy side. "

"No, " said Wilfred, hoarsely, "I want no servants near; I must speak toyou alone, here, now. Jake, take this jade a few yards away and staythere. "

Jake did as he was told, and the servant, having evidently seen Wilfredbefore, seemed to think no wrong. I saw Ruth look around her as if infear, however, while I, scarce knowing why, waited for what shouldfollow next. 

"Wilfred, " said Ruth, "this is strange acting. Never before has anyone dared to treat me so; but you are an old friend, or I should sayperhaps that I have known you a very long time, and so I grant yourrequest. Speak, but speak quickly. Meanwhile we will walk home. "

"No, " said Wilfred, "I say what I want to say here. "

"Why?"

"Ruth, I am a desperate man, and I must use desperate means. I am notgoing to be frightened out of my purposes; nothing shall stay my hand!"

He spoke with the old intense tone of voice that I knew so well, and Iknew, as he said, that he was desperate. 

"Well, what have you to tell me, Wilfred?" There was no fear in hervoice. Evidently, she felt she was on her own land, and that no onewould dare to molest her, where she was beloved by all. 

"First of all, Ruth, " he said hoarsely, "I am come to tell you thatRoger is dead. News came last night of his death. "

"Died! How?" she gasped. 

"Hanged, " he said, savagely. "The pirate vessel on which he sailed wascaptured, and he has been hanged. One or two of the crew were granteda reprieve, but Roger was the most bloodthirsty man among them, and tohim no mercy was shown. "

She did not speak, and, after being silent a second, he went on. 

"I came to tell you that first of all; I thought you might be glad toknow that he will plague you no more. 

"Then, Ruth, " he went on, "I am come to tell you something else. Icannot live without you, Ruth. I have been mad for love of you forlong, long years. Oh, if you only knew, if you only knew!"

"Wilfred, " she answered, "say no more about that. Surely you know thatwhen I was nearly driven to marry you, the thought of it almost killedme. You cannot come with that petition again. "

"But, Ruth, Roger is dead, and now I have come to beseech you to havepity. I am dying for you, Ruth. Oh, if you will only pity me, and ifalthough you do not love me, you will fulfil my father's wish, and yourfather's wish, and wed me, you will save me. Save me from deathhere--from death hereafter. "

He spoke with passionate earnestness, which I can never forget. Hepleaded for her love as a man fearful of death might plead for hislife. But to all his petitions she gave no encouragement. 

"I cannot do as you ask, Wilfred, " she said, "neither would my father, or your father, if either were alive, have me do it. My eyes have beenopened as to their real wishes, and I cannot marry you. "

"But, Ruth, " he continued, "you do not know. My very existence dependson your answer. Do not think I care for your money; but, driven tomadness by your constant refusal of my love, I have acted foolishly, Ihave blindly engaged in speculation, until Trewinion estate is nolonger mine, except in name. If you do not have pity on me it willbecome the property of strangers, and those who care nothing for us orours will possess it. My mother will be homeless, and the old rooms, which were my father's and--Roger's will be desecrated by others. Formyself I care nothing, but I cannot bear that my mother should have toleave the home of our people. "

She seemed moved at this, for in her pure guilelessness I do notbelieve she ever thought that Wilfred was seeking her for her wealthalone. Hence what he had said appealed to her, as my brother intendedit should, as an additional reason for her to accept him. Still, itdid not alter her determination. 

"I will help you, Wilfred, " she said, "if it is in my power to do so. I will see that all shall be well with your mother, but I cannot do asyou wish. "

"But why?" Wilfred asked hoarsely. "Roger is dead, and even if he werenot you could never wed him when you know that his heart is full ofmurder. You know that he sought my life, and but for a fortunate----"

"I do not know it, " she said passionately, "neither do I know that heis dead. "

"What!" he exclaimed, savagely, "you believe that I----"

"I know that you have deceived me about him in the past, " she said. "Iknow that you drove him from home. I know that you have tried to makeme believe that he sought to murder you, but let me tell you this, Wilfred: If I believed he were dead, which I do not, and if he has beenall you say he has, then, knowing you as I do, I cannot, will not, bewhat you ask. Now, I will go home. Stand aside, please?"

"You refuse, then?"

"Certainly, Wilfred. And now that I have yielded to your wish for thisunseemly interview, I wish it to be the end of all such scenes. "

"Ay, and it shall be, for I have a few words to say. " His tonechanged, and he spoke with haughty insolence. "We are in a lonelyplace, " he said, "half a mile from a house. No one will molest ushere, and you are in my power. I have begged you to grant my request, now you will have to yield to one of two alternatives. The first isthis: The town of ---- is ten miles from here. You will ride therewith me this very night, quietly, and remain there until arrangementsare made for our marriage. "

"What!" she exclaimed, "you seek to force me? You dare not do such athing. "

"I dare do anything, " he said, "for I am a desperate man. Will youaccede to this?"

"Never. I will die first. "

"Then hear my other alternative. There is a vessel lying in the coveyonder. I have got it for this emergency. You will come with me now, and to-night we shall sail for a port where my wishes will be carriedout in spite of you. Stop, if you scream or cry for help I will gagyou, and Jake will do the same by your girl. He has my orders. Choosewhich you like, but one of them you shall do. "

All this time I had listened as in a dream. For a time I seemedincapable of action. I was stupefied by the villainy of my brother, while my blood surged madly at the sound of Ruth's voice. It seemed sostrange that I should have come thus, and be listening to such aconversation. At first I could not think it real, and yet I rememberedI had ridden thirty-five miles to prevent whatever schemes he hadconcocted. 

"Choose quickly, " he went on after a pause. "I have no time to waste. Either you come to the three bridges, where horses are waiting, andride to ----, and marry me as soon as it can be arranged, or you cometo Pendugle Cove. I care not which, but as I am a maddened, desperateman, it shall be one or the other. "

She did not lose her presence of mind. I do not think she realised herdanger. 

"Wilfred, " she said, "I have long known that you were capable of muchthat was bad, but I never thought you were as bad as this. You have myanswer. I will die rather than accede to either of your plans, and youdare not carry them into execution. "

"But I will. Then you will wish you had consented. Jake, PendugleCove, and gag the girl. I will manage Miss Morton. "

He laid his hand on her as he spoke. She gave a slight cry for help, which was instantly choked. 

Then all my stupefaction left me. With one bound I cleared the fence, and in another second I was by Ruth's side. 

CHAPTER XXXII

TWO HEARTS

More than eleven years of seafaring life had accustomed me to danger. During the two years I sailed in the pirate ship I had often beenwithin the jaws of death, for as all the world knows pirates are notdealt leniently with. I had been mixing with men of all nationalities, and had been engaged in all kinds of fray. Thus, I was neverunprepared for a struggle. To be ready to meet danger was secondnature with me. 

Almost instinctively I settled on my plan of attack. They were two toone, so stratagem was required as well as strength. Noiselessly aspossible, and with no parleying, I seized Wilfred, mastered him, andbound him, before he was capable of resisting. No sooner had I donethis than I saw Jake Blackburn coming towards me, as if wondering whatwas the matter, but seeing a man almost twice as big as himselfconfronting him he took to his heels. 

The struggle was so soon over that Ruth scarcely realised what wasdone. Wilfred, however, understood only too well. 

"Jake, Jake, " he shrieked, "help!"

"Jake is gone, Wilfred, " I answered. "He will not help you. "

"Roger, Roger, " cried Ruth, "is that you?"

"It is Roger, " I said, as calmly as I could, "but danger is not overyet. Will you lead the way to the high road, and then on to the Hallas quickly as you can?"

The servant came up just then. She had contrived to free herself, andnow ran to assist her mistress. 

Wilfred writhed and struggled, but I held him fast. This I had littledifficulty in doing, as his hands were firmly tied behind him. Meanwhile Ruth, as if in a dream, led the way home. Silently, yetswiftly, we went on, I wondering all the time, not whether JakeBlackburn would return with his accomplices, if he had any, to carryout Wilfred's design, but whether Ruth still loved me. 

I dared not speak to her. My tongue seemed tied, while she moved onlike one in a trance. 

Presently we came to the churchyard gates, and as we did so I couldscarcely help shuddering. Like lightning the events of a year beforeflashed through my mind. Vividly I remembered going down thechurchyard path and opening the old church door, in order to gaze onthe face of the dead. But Ruth seemed perfectly unconscious of thatwhich haunted me. A look of expectancy was on her face, and by and byshe gave a glad exclamation as we heard the sound of wheels. In aminute more a carriage drove up and stopped at our side. I still heldWilfred by the arm, and he, doubtless feeling that resistance wasuseless, submitted quietly. 

"Roger, " said Ruth huskily, "you will come home with me?"

In reply I was about to enter the carriage with Wilfred by my side; butno sooner did she see this than she exclaimed as if in horror, "Not him, Roger; no, not him. "

"Then I will ride on the box by the driver, " I said. "I will not lethim go yet. "

"But will you be safe?" she said, anxiously. 

"Perfectly safe, Ruth, " I answered. 

Then she allowed the servant to help her into the carriage as if shewere dazed, while I mounted the box with Wilfred. 

We were not long in reaching Morton Hall, I realising more clearly eachminute the position in which I was placed and the hopes dearest to myheart. 

The old servant I had seen on my first visit was delighted as well asrelieved at our advent, but looked strangely at Wilfred, and at myrequest silently opened the door of a room, and left us together. 

I did this because, as I descended from the carriage, Ruth said:

"Say what you must say to him quickly, Roger, I cannot bear for him tobe in the house. I cannot bear to see him again!"

And so he and I stood alone in the room into which we had been ushered, and in the flickering light I saw that his face was pale as death. 

"You have won again, " he said between his set teeth. 

"Be thankful I have won, Wilfred, " I said. "Supposing it had beenotherwise, and you had succeeded in your designs. Would you have beenany happier? Would you not have been haunted with the thought that youhad ruined her life, besides condemning her to the hell of a lovelessmarriage?"

"And would I have cared for that?" he retorted, "My chief thought wasto baulk you, to crush you, as the younger brother should crush theelder, when the elder has been unworthy of his name. To do this Iwould suffer hell, here and hereafter; to do this I would allow myselfto be buffeted, scorned, hated; I would be as I have been, the vileplotter and cunning villain. And why? I hate you, partly because youhave stepped into the place I longed for, but more because my mothertaught me to do so. Ay, and I will hate you, and I will curse you. "

"Wilfred, " I said, "do not goad me too far. I wish you no harm; nay, Ionly wish you good. I have in the past sacrificed much for you; but ifyou plot against Ruth again, or if you lift a finger against her, Ishall be obliged to crush you as I would an adder, not because I hateyou, but because I care for others. "

"And that's your love for me, is it?" he sneered. 

"Yes, it is my love, " I answered; "for I will not allow you to be morea devil than you are while I can prevent it. Remember, Wilfred, thereis a law in England, and to that law I will appeal, and if that lawwill not give me justice, then, Wilfred, you know me, I will take youin hand, and I will lock you up as a fiend, a moral madman, that shouldnot be at large. I will imprison you as I would a mad dog. I want norevenge, for I have no wish for it in my heart, although God only knowswhat I should have felt had you succeeded in your designs to-night. Asit is, I only tell you to beware. "

"And what do you intend doing with me now?" he said. 

"Nothing, " I said. "At first I held you to keep you from doing harm, but when I saw the carriage I brought you here, that I might give youthis warning. "

"And do you think I care for your warning?"

"I do not know, Wilfred; but in roving round the world for more thaneleven years I have learnt to take care of myself. Depend upon it, Ishall use that knowledge, not only to care for myself, but for others. Be careful then. Justice is sometimes as strong a feeling as revenge, and if needs be I shall take terrible means that justice may be done. "

Upon this I cut the handkerchief with which I had bounds his hands, andhe was at liberty. He snapped his fingers in my face. 

"You have given me warning, " he said, hoarsely, "Now I will warn you. First of all I thank you for what you have told me. I will heed yourwords, and you need not fear that I shall put myself within the reachof the law. Experience has taught me wisdom. But I tell you thisagain. If there is any power in evil, you shall suffer. If it ispossible to sell myself to the devil that I may make you accursed, Iwill do it; if the curse of a man who hates can avail, your futureshall be as black as hell, and your children and your children'schildren shall suffer too. I have told you this before, and I tell youso again. Not one penny of the money you can get out of Trewinion willI have; but I shall live, and you shall have reason to know it. "

With that he went out and I did not seek to hinder him. I saw two ofthe servants, evidently under orders to do so, follow him as if to seehim safely out of the grounds, and thus I was left alone. 

I did not think of his words, nor did they have any effect upon me. Iseemed to be encased in an impenetrable armour. Sorrow I did feel forhim, but fear entered not into my heart. 

For some minutes I sat alone, wondering what I should do. I had indeedfound Ruth, and yet I knew nothing of her feeling towards me. I knewnot whether I might hope, or whether the events of the long weary yearshad destroyed all her love for me. I longed to go to her, and yet Idared not. I longed to tell her of the great love that burned in myheart, but something hindered me from doing so. What should I do? Iwas in the same house with her, I had again rescued her from terriblesurroundings, she had spoken kindly to me, and yet I remembered thelook she gave me more than a year ago, and I could not nerve myself toseek her. 

By and by a knock came to the door, and a servant entered. 

"Please, sir, your room is ready, " he said, and led the way to abedroom. 

I followed him bewilderedly, wondering what the end was to be. Everything was so strange that I scarcely realised what I was doing. 

"Miss Morton told me to tell you that she would be in the library, " hesaid as he showed me into the bedroom, and left me. 

It will be remembered that I was more than thirty years of age, and yetno lover of eighteen could have felt more nervous than I. For thefirst time during eleven long years I dared to hope that I might behappy, and yet as I stood outside the door, longing yet not daring toenter, my limbs trembled like those of a woman in great fear. 

At length I knocked timidly, and heard Ruth's voice telling me toenter, and in a second more we stood face to face. 

She stood by the library table with an eager look upon her face. For aminute we did not speak, but looked steadily at each other. 

How beautiful she was in spite of the long years of trouble anddisappointment! True, the first blush of maidenhood was gone, for shewas only four years younger than I, but she was beautiful beyonddescription. Little of stature, yet perfectly moulded, her great, greyeyes still possessed their old charm, while her brown hair made afitting crown for so beauteous a face. To me, the rough sailor, whofor more than eleven years had scarcely spoken to another woman, saveSalambo's wife and my mother, she seemed like an angel. 

All this flashed through my mind as her great eyes met mine. 

"Ruth, " I said. 

"Roger, " she sobbed, "thank God you've come. "

I could not speak another word just then. I could only open my arms;but with a glad look on her face, and with a joyful cry, she laid herface on my bosom. And I--I was in Heaven. My happiness was beyond allthought, all hope. It was joy unspeakable to feel her in my arms, andto know that no cloud intervened. 

"Ruth, " I said after a while, "I have loved you all these long years, loved you when all was darkness, and when there was no hope. When myheart was full of hatred for all else, I loved you. Ruth, I have beena sinful man, rejecting God's help, and breaking His laws, but I haveloved you. "

She did not answer, save to sob as though her heart were too full forutterance. 

"Can you not speak some word, to me, Ruth?" I went on. "I know youmust have hated me when I left you more than a year ago, for in mymadness I thought that I had----"

"No, no, Roger, I never hated you, " she said, quickly. "I loved youall the time. I was mad, I think--and I did not know what I was doing, and I thought I should have died when I knew you were gone. "

"And now, Ruth?"

"Can you ask, Roger, after--after all you have--no, no I do not loveyou because of what you have done, but because I cannot help it, " andshe clung more closely to me. 

After that I remembered little that was said, and what still remainswith me I cannot write down, for such joy as mine comes to man butrarely, and cannot be told to others. 

By and by the dinner bell rang, and Ruth and I entered the dining halltogether, where we found Mr. Inch, still stately and upright, butgrowing very feeble. 

He had heard of my arrival, and now gave me a hearty welcome. I learntafterwards that he had endeavoured to do all in his power to atone forthe past, and that no one could be more true and faithful than he, after he had once shaken himself free from Wilfred's coils. And Ifound, too, that he had constituted himself Ruth's protector, andalthough she often had friends to cheer her in her loneliness, to theend she regarded him as her adviser and comforter. 

When Ruth and I were again alone in the library, she asked me to relateall that had passed since I had left her on that terrible night. 

Then I told her of the scene at my home on the night before, ofWilfred's avowal of hatred, and then of what had happened in themorning, and of Bill Tregargus's news. I described the journey to theHall, and my inquiries of the servant, and at the cottage where I hadbeen directed. 

"He told me you were dead, " she said hoarsely. 

"I heard him, " I answered. 

"I did not believe him, " she went on; "I could not, something told meeven then that you were near me, and so I was not afraid--but oh, Ishudder at it now. "

"Thank God I was in time, " I said; "and yet I cannot think he wouldhave dared to do what he threatened. "

"I do not know, Roger; I dare not think of it; but what passed betweenyou after you came here?"

Then I told her all, told her of the curse which was said to belong toour race, and related how Wilfred had sworn that if it could reach me Ishould never know happiness. 

"Do you think it is true, " I said, at length; "or do you think thesestories are only vague rumours and idle tales?"

"I cannot say, " she answered. "Your mother told me many wild storieswhen I used to live at Trewinion Manor, and I thought they were true. "

"Then, " I said, "if it is true, I cannot allow you to link your lifewith mine. Why should I bring pain and sorrow on your?"

"I do not know whether these stories are true, " she repeated; "but, Roger, I am yours always. If you are to have sorrows, I intend to bearthem with you. I do not believe a curse can fall on a heart that isfull of love like yours; but if you are to be cursed, Roger, I shallhelp you to bear it. "

And thus there was light, even on the one black cloud of the sky of mylife. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE DAWNING OF THE MORNING

I would fain linger over that evening, and the days which followed. Tome a new life full of joy and pleasure began. And yet I did not feelquite at rest. A fear constantly haunted me that Ruth would be takenaway from me, so I begged her that there should be no delay inarranging for our wedding. 

When I left her the following morning, I made her promise that shewould not go out of the house, unless under sufficient escort, whileshe in return made me promise that I would not for any length of timestay away from her. With a sad heart I mounted Black Bess to ride backto Trewinion Manor, and watched her until we could no longer see eachother as she stood with tearful eyes at the hall door, but it was onlyto be for a day, for on the morrow I determined I would return. 

I found my mother anxiously awaiting me when I arrived home. She was, however, relieved beyond measure when I told her of the defeat ofWilfred's schemes. 

"And you, Roger?" she asked anxiously, "are you going to give me Ruthfor a daughter?"

I think my answer satisfied her, for a look of contentment came intoher eyes. 

As soon as possible I consulted the old family lawyer, and together wediscussed the affairs of the estate. They were quite as bad as Wilfredhad declared. Everything he could turn into money he had sold ormortgaged, until there was scarcely any unencumbered property; but thelawyer told me that, with care and economy, I might in a few yearsreplace what Wilfred had so extravagantly wasted. 

I also visited my sisters, and found them delighted beyond measure atseeing their brother again, and looking forward with joyfulanticipations to welcoming their new sister. 

Altogether my life was very happy, and as I constantly rode over toMorton Hall to see the sweet woman who had promised to be my wife, andwatched the gladsome smile that lit up her face whenever she saw mecoming, my cup of joy was full. 

A month later we were wedded in the old church, from which I hadcarried her more than a year before. 

When I entered the gloomy building, I almost felt like shuddering, soawful were its associations, and when I saw the clergyman take hisstand near the very spot from which I had turned back the stone, toenter the resting-place of the dead, I could not help picturing what Ihad then seen. I think Ruth must have felt it too, for her handtrembled in mine. Perchance she thought of the awful doom from which, by the mercy of God, I had rescued her; but when I heard the oldclergyman pronounce us man and wife, and then repeat in solemn tonesthe words that were full of meaning to me, "whom God hath joinedtogether let no man put asunder, " my heart thrilled with a new joy, forI felt I possessed the greatest blessing on earth. 

And then as the bells pealed out, while with Ruth on my arm wetraversed the long nave, it seemed as though the angels of God werethere to smile on our wedding morn. 

And what of Ruth? In her great happiness, she could scarcely grievefor the long years of pain, and as she nestled nearer to me, on our wayback to the Hall, she whispered that no joy could be as great as ours, because for years we had both despaired of ever meeting each otheragain. 

At the wedding festivities, my mother sat, pale and sad, perchancethinking of Wilfred, of whom we had heard nothing since the night hehad been disappointed of his hopes. As soon as they were over, we wentback to Trewinion, which we both decided should be our home. 

I shall never forget the scene as we returned and entered by thepostern door into the grounds. All the people in the parish hadgathered together to do us honour, and with gladsome words and heartycheers they bade us "welcome home. " They lit great bonfires on theheadland, around which the village lads and girls danced with joy, because of the return and happy marriage of "Master Roger. "

And yet amidst all the joy I could not help sorrowing for my mother. It is true that both Ruth and I, as well as Katherine and Elizabeth, had done all in our power to make her happy, but I saw that she broodedover the past, and was anxious about Wilfred. 

"Mother, " said Ruth, brightly, "your sad days are over now; let onlybright and happy things possess your mind. "

This was after the crowd had gone home, and we sat around a huge fire, for November had come, and the nights were chilly. 

"How can I be happy, " she answered, "when, but for me, you might havehad happiness instead of misery these eleven long years? How can Ithink of gladness when my accursed selfishness has destroyed my boy'slife, made him hate his mother, and driven him into the world anoutcast? And, besides this, it is I who have led him to curse you andbe your enemy, and of this I am sure, if he can ruin your life he will. "

"But he ca'ant, " said a croaking voice in the doorway, and turninground we saw Deborah Teague. She was ninety years of age now, and bentalmost double, but she had hobbled up from her cottage to speak to thenew squire. 

"Maaster Roger, " croaked the old dame, "do 'ee remember that therenight when you come'd up to Betsey Fraddam's cave in the middle ov thenight?"

"Very well, Deborah, " I answered. 

"People do zay as 'ow we ain't got no power, " she went on; "but ded'nus tell 'ee true? We tould 'ee you'd 'ave to suffer; but there's nocurse can stand 'ginst love, and so when you larned to love everybody, oal your darkness went away. "

"True, Deborah, " I answered. 

"But take care o' yer brother still, " she croaked, "ef ever you dohate, or feel enmity to he, or to anybody else, well then--black days'll come. And, Maaster Roger, ef ever you do 'ave cheldern, taich 'emto love, for love es the only power 'gainst curses, and as sure asyou'd live, yer brother es yer enemy, and aw, Maaster Roger, rememberTrewinion's curse!" As she spoke she lifted her skinny hand, as I hadseen her lift it long years before. 

Soon after the old woman left, and I sent one of the servants with her, to see her safely home. 

 * * * * *

I have little else to write, for in narrating what happened during theyears that followed I shall not use many words. My pen drags wearily, and my eyes begin to grow dim. 

About six months after our wedding we received the startling news thatWilfred was married. During the years of my absence he had made theacquaintance of a lady whose father's estate joined Ruth's, and whom hehad fascinated by his handsome presence and smooth speech. 

The news made me glad at first, for I hoped that his marriage would putan end to his enmity and make us brothers again. But when I went tosee him he at first refused to see me, and then he told me he had onlymarried to gain wealth and power, both of which should be used to crushme and mine. 

And so, to my heart's deep sorrow, he still remained my enemy, the doorof his heart continued to be shut towards me, and the one black cloudon my sky continued to remain. 

After that two years passed quietly away, during which time my mothergrew weaker and weaker, and although I trust that her life was notaltogether sad, yet she was constantly weighed down with the one greattrouble of her life. At the end of two years she became too weak toleave her room, and after a few weeks passed away. Before she did so, however, she asked us to send for Wilfred; but he refused to obey hersummons, and so she never saw him from the night on which he told herhe hated her for cursing his life. 

Shortly after she died a boy was born to us, but he only lived a fewweeks. Then a little girl came; but she too was taken, and we began tofear the curse of my race. After that two more years passed awaywithout any event of importance, save that Deborah Teague died, andthen another boy came, whom we called Roger, and he is with us yet, ourjoy and our hope. 

And now what more shall I write? I have told my story so that Roger, my only son, may learn the lessons of my life. 

Looking back now over the days of my life, I cannot say whether Ibelieve in the legend of my race, and so I know not whether my son mayhave to suffer, and his children inherit a dreadful legacy. 

It is true Wilfred still hates me, and has taught his children to hateme and mine. In a letter he sent me not long since, he tells me thecurse of the Trewinion shall still fall on Trewinion's heirs, that theyshall have blackened lives and terrible deaths. 

What is that? It is Ruth asking me if my work is not almost done, andI answer, "Yes, I have almost done. " And as I answer, I look up frommy paper and see my dear one who has been with me for long years, evermy comforter, my counsellor, and joy. She has lost the fresh bloom ofher womanhood, but to me she was never so beautiful as now. Never didI think that such a pure soul could exist on earth, or that a womancould be so brave in difficulty, so hopeful in sorrow, so comforting inthe hours of darkness. 

I look forward with hope and joy. Let the lamp of life burn dimmer anddimmer, I fear not. Ruth will be near me, and her presence will makeme strong. But a few more years, and Ruth and I must enter the darkvalley from which we shall never return, but she will be by my side, and in her dear presence, I am full of hope. 

THE END OF ROGER TREWINION'S CONFESSION. 

EPILOGUE

I

Thus finished the story, a story of sin, and sorrow, and of a curse. Imust confess that when I laid it aside the life of Roger Trewinion hadbecome very real to me, and for a long time I sat thinking over theevents which were related. Everything was more vivid to me, for I hadfor days past been living in the atmosphere of superstition, andspeaking to people who still believe in many of the things about whichRoger Trewinion spoke. Moreover, I had seen the old house, I hadrealised the rugged grandeur of the rock-bound coast, I had let myimagination brood over the great mass of rocks which are called the"Devil's Tooth. " In spite of myself, too, I began to be influenced bythe story of the "curse, " which, although not clearly explained, wasfearfully spoken about. Yet I could not see why a man like the presentRoger Trewinion should allow himself to become a misanthrope because ofit. Perhaps succeeding events had led him to shun society; butwhatever may have been the explanation of his attitude, I longed toknow more about himself and his family, and before I went to sleep Imade up my mind that I would go back to Trewinion Manor and see whetherthe "Trewinion curse" had manifested itself since the time thegrandfather of the present squire wrote his confessions. 

It was midday, when I left my apartment, and, on entering the readingroom of the hotel, I found my friend Will just on the point of sendingto see if anything had happened to me. 

"Well, have you read the confessions?" grunted he, after grumbling somelittle time. 

"I have, indeed, " I answered. 

"And found a lot of foolish jargon, I suppose?"

"I found a strange story, " I answered, "and it has so interested methat I am going to hire a conveyance and drive to Trewinion this veryafternoon. "

Will muttered something about the man going crazy over silly stories, and then burst out laughing, but still showed considerable interest asI related to him the chief outlines of "the confessions. "

After a meal, I started for a twelve-mile drive along the coast, andwas able to enjoy to the full the grand scenery that escaped myattention on the afternoon of the previous day. As I drew near to thehouse, too, I was able to recognize many of the places Roger hadmentioned, which made the events connected with them far more real. Soreal, indeed, were they that once or twice I felt like shuddering as Ithought of the feelings that must have possessed him. Especially wasthis so when I traced the outlines of the "Devil's Tooth, " and when Ithought I recognized the spot on which Wilfred and Roger had struggledfor life. 

At length I reached the postern door, which had looked so formidable onthe previous day, and was again met by the same men I had seen before. The place did not now seem nearly so strange, and I felt as though Iwere a friend of the Trewinion family, and as if the old house had beenlong familiar to me. 

Roger Trewinion welcomed me heartily, and I thought I saw in his facesome indications of expectancy. 

"Well, " he said, after I had been seated a few minutes, "you have readthe confessions?"

"Yes. "

"And what do you think of them?"

"I found them so interesting that I could not leave them until I hadread the last word. "

"And now you understand why I live here like a hermit, and why suchstrange stories are circulated about me?"

"I can see why stories are circulated about you certainly, but I cannotsee why you live here so lonely and forsaken. "

"But you read about the curse, and the way it worked itself out?"

"I read what might easily be explained in the light of to-day. Yourgrandfather saw things through the glasses of the time he wrote. Likeall literature, it is a product of the age and surroundings of thewriter, and must be judged accordingly. "

"Ah, but you do not know all that followed. If you did you would nottalk thus. "

"No, I am here to-day to hear more, so interested have I become. Ifound yesterday that you were a man of culture and intellectual power, and I cannot help wondering that such a story could so influence you. "

"No, honestly, I do not think I am a fool, and, believe me, I have readand studied, as few men have, in order to free myself from the fearthat possesses me. Look at me! I look sixty years of age, and yet Iam only fifty. Fear and dread have made me old. Naturally, I am fondof society, but an invisible presence, which always seems to confrontme, makes me live alone, without friends, without companionship. "

"Will you tell me the sequel of what I have read, then?" I said, anxiously, for I was greatly interested. 

"Yes, I will tell you as plainly as I can. It is said that mygrandfather--the writer of the confessions--died a terrible death, andthat dread thoughts ever haunted him. Of that, however, I cannot speakauthoritatively. "

"I do not believe it, " I said. "No one who reads the closing words ofhis confession could believe such a thing. Nay, I feel sure his endwas peace. "

"Well, it may be so; I hope it is. But directly after his death mygrandfather's brother, the Wilfred he speaks so much about, sent for myfather. What he said to him I do not know, but from that time hebecame as one possessed of the devil. He married, and although hiswife was my mother, and it is hard to say it, she made his lifeterrible to bear. They had several children, all of whom died at anearly age, excepting me. Everything to which my father put his hand, seemed accursed, and every life he touched he blighted. Although, before he died, my grandfather had put the property on a firm andsecure basis, my father, in spite of himself, let a great deal of itslip out of his hands. Disappointed in life, he drifted away into sin, and died with his mouth full of curses, a raving maniac. After hisdeath I of course succeeded him. True, I do not need money, but agreat part of the estate is gone, while the whole of the Morton estatehas passed from my hands. "

"To whom?"

"To the other branch of the family. Before my father's death, Wilfredhad secured the whole of my grandmother's estate, and a great deal ofmine, " as he spoke his eyes lit up with an angry flash. 

"And does the enmity still exist?"

"Ay, does it? Man, I tell you the hatred is not one-sided now. I haveprayed to love, and I cannot; if hatred can make a man liable to comeunder a curse, I am that man. There is bitter undying enmity betweenus. Our family has been looked on by them as robbers of their rights, and enemies of their peace. Wilfred taught his children to look on usso, as he swore he would, and the feeling exists to-day. "

He paused a second and then went on. 

"And now they gloat over the fact that the old Trewinion Manor shall betheirs, the place they have coveted so long, and that I shall pay formy father's sins by dying an accursed death. I am the last of theheirs, and, according to them, am of the third generation, mygrandfather being accounted by them as the first who really felt thecurse. Do you see now why I fear? I saw my father die, and the legendsays that my death shall be worse than his. Even now I can hearshrieks of despair, and his unavailing cries for peace and comfort, andthat I am to die a death worse than that is maddening to think. "

I saw that he had been feeding his morbid imagination by brooding overthese things, and that living alone in that lonely old house of weirdassociations must have led him to live such an unnatural life that hehad become a confirmed monomaniac. 

"But why should you be the last of your race? And why should you giveway to these dread fancies?"

"Why should I be the last of my race?" he repeated--"ah, man, you donot know. "

"I know that you could wed some pure-minded woman who would drivethoughts of the curse away, even such a one as your grandmother, theRuth whom I read of in the confessions. "

"And do you think I could marry? Let me tell you. When I was aboutfive and twenty I determined that I would not succumb to dark feelings. I went into society, and I fell in love with an angel. Ay, she was anangel, and it is she who makes me believe there is a heaven, for I amsure such a soul as hers could never die. Well, my love was returned, and I laughed at all thoughts of the curse, and soon I was wedded to mydarling. For three years I was in Heaven. My life was full of joy andgladness, and Alice was as happy as I. But at the end of that timeevery hope was dashed to the ground, every joy was stamped out of mylife. And why? I have not spoken of this for many a long year, but Ifeel a relief in being able to speak about it now. A year after wewere married, a baby was born to us, a bright, bonny boy, and we calledhim Roger, the old family name. My joy knew no bounds, and I breatheddefiance against my enemies. How could there be a curse, I said, whenGod had given us such a boy? Ah, how we loved him, Alice and I, how wewatched him as, day by day, he grew in strength of body and mind! Ayear passed by and all was well, still another passed and nothingseemed to darken our sky. Our boy was now two years old, and wasstrong and healthy, while my wife and I looked forward to long years ofhappiness. 

"But the curse had been laid upon my race, and it crept upon us like acrawling poisonous serpent. Just after our boy's holiday he wasmissing. We searched for him high and low, we scoured the countryside, but we never saw him alive again. "

"What became of him?" I asked anxiously. 

"A week after we missed him some fishermen discovered the body of achild, bruised and beaten beyond recognition, but still wearing clothessimilar to those worn by our boy. And thus we concluded, that he musthave strayed and fallen over the cliff. "

I felt it useless to speak. Words, I knew, would only add to thesuffering caused by the awakening of these bitter memories. 

"It broke our hearts, " he continued, hoarsely, after a minute'ssilence. "Soon I saw that grief was killing my wife. God only knowshow I prayed for her. I consulted all the best physicians; but it wasno use, in three months sorrow killed her, and--I was left alone. "

He laid his head on the table, while sobs shook his mighty frame, andfor minutes he did not speak. Mastering himself at length, hecontinued, more calmly. 

"Then I shut myself up here. I dismissed all the servants save the twoyou have seen, and have for years refused to mix with my fellows. Igrew churlish and bitter. I talked strangely, until stories werecirculated about me, wild and foolish, of course, but still making mebecome more a misanthrope than ever. Why I gave you admittanceyesterday I do not know, but acting on sudden impulse I did so, andthen was led to allow you to see those confessions, and still furtherto relate my story. Now do you believe in the curse? Now do youbelieve that, remorseless as fate, it is dogging me, and will dog me, until, mad with despair, and taunted by powers of darkness, I go awayinto darkness?"

"No, " I answered, "I do not. "

"Why not?"

"Curses such as that do not exist, as your grandfather half perceived. You would not believe in anything of the sort but for your unhealthyand lonely life. Go out into God's sunshine, lead a healthy, vigorouslife, and your dark fancies will dispel like mist in the summer's sun. "

He shook his head sadly. 

"Nothing can turn the curse aside now, " he said, "only one thing couldever have done so. "

"And what is that?"

"If my son had lived and married, and children had been born to him, then I should not be the last of my race, and the curse must go. "

"But why may not you marry again?"

"I marry!" he exclaimed. "Man, much as I fear the horrible death thatI daily think about, I would rather bear it than that another womanshould take the place of my Alice. No, no, that can never be!"

"Then go out into the world and mix with your fellow creatures, " Isaid, "I believe that even this visit of mine will do you good. "

"Your visit yesterday did do me good, " he answered, "and I hope to seeyou again soon. The old place shall ever be open to you. Come whenyou like. I think you could make me forget some of the dark things oflife. But now about the publishing of these confessions. Can it bedone?"

For a time we talked the matter over, and after a while I drew him onto converse about other things until he became comparatively cheerful. 

II

Will and I finished our tour around the Cornish coast, and then I cameback to London, and made arrangements for the publication of themanuscript which had been given to me for that purpose. 

I had re-written all that was necessary, and had corrected the lastproof sheets from the printers, when I recollected that we were nearthe date on which I had promised to go to Trewinion Manor. I mustconfess that, sitting in my rooms in London, weary with the amount ofwork I had done, the thought of spending a few days among the scenes inwhich I had been led to take so much interest, was very fascinating tome, and I eagerly began to make preparations for going. 

Two days before the time for starting, I received the followingletter;--

"DEAR ----, I must ask you to delay your visit a little while--how longI hardly know--yet. I have received information, which has everyevidence of being true, that my son is not dead. I have no time to gointo details now, but I pray God, ay, I even hope, that there is yethappiness in store for me. Indeed, I feel like saying, with one of myancestors of whom you have read, 'There is no curse, God is love!'Yet, I am naturally terribly anxious, and I leave Trewinion to-day toverify the information, and please God to bring home my son! The verythought is Heaven! Ah, dear God, may it be so!

"I will let you know all later on, for I have come to feel that you aremy friend, and if--if all is well, I will give you such a welcome asman never had before. 

"I shall be doubly glad to see the 'confessions' printed, if my hopesare realised. 

"Anxiously, yet hopefully. "ROGER TREWINION. "

I have finished my work. I have told how I came by the strange historyhere given, and, without sacrificing altogether the quaint andcharacteristic Cornish vernacular, I have endeavoured to tell the talein homely English, and, as far as possible, in the spirit of the timein which the events herein narrated passed. 

Of the final outcome of the matter mentioned in the letter just quoted, it is not for me to say anything now. It may be that at some futuretime I shall have an opportunity of following still further thefortunes of the Trewinion family; but, in laying aside my pen for thepresent, I must express my feelings of thankfulness that hope haddawned in the sky of the lonely man whom I met in the old house on thecliff. 

THE END OF EPILOGUE