Roger Trewinion Part 43

"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 seen in 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 loved years before.

Dare I! I covered her face with kisses, and as I did so I forgot everything, forgot all I had done, forgot where I was. I only knew that 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 it around 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 she could trust herself to me.

I carried her down the silent church; but no longer did my lantern throw weird shadows on the floor; no longer were the pews filled with forbidding spectres. For now the church was full of bright rejoicing angels.

When I came to the church door, and saw the heavy clanging keys, I wondered what I was to do with them.

The old s.e.xton would lose his senses if he were to see the precious burden I bore. I locked the great door and took her out into the silent night.

I no longer needed the lantern; the light of the moon was clear and bright. It was indeed a relief. To me, after being immured in the church, the clear, pure air was welcome beyond expression. And if it was welcome to me, it was a thousand times more so to Ruth. I do not think she fully realised from what she had escaped until now. She gave a cry of gladness, such as a bird gives when freed from a cage. Behind her were suspense, cruelty, doubt, despair, death and the grave; before her--ah, what?

I bore her on, feeling no weariness, no pain, no sorrow. The gravestones told me no sad stories, the shadows of the trees were only beautiful pictures painted on the green gra.s.s.

When I came to the churchyard gate I saw the old s.e.xton.

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'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 hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Her grave," I said.

He took a look at Ruth's face, which was clearly to be seen in the moonlight, and immediately recognised it.

"Great Loard!" he cried, "'tes our dead lady's face, 'tes our dead lady, and the devil have got her."

With a cry which showed how real were both his fear and belief, he rushed away from us.

I did not stop him: I did not think it necessary; soon the truth must come out, and then all his fears would be allayed.

Never shall I forget the journey from the village church to the home of the Mortons. My joy was so great that I did not feel Ruth's weight at all, and when she asked me anxiously, yet lovingly, if she wearied me, I only pressed her more closely to my heart, while she only nestled more contentedly. And small wonder? Had I not brought her back from the dead, and had she not found herself free from the terrible chain that bound her, free to speak to the man she loved?

Nearer and nearer we came to her home, the home which all thought she had 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 how I should get rid of him; but Ruth spoke only one word, and he did not know how to express his joy; he walked by our side and licked the shroud she wore.

I seized the great bell, the bell I had rung that morning. Soon its clanging voice echoed through the hall, and soon after we heard the sound of voices, and footsteps echoed along the corridors.

A minute later we heard the bolts shoot back from the door at which we stood.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SHADOW OF EVIL'S REWARD

Avenge not yourselves; but rather give place unto wrath, for it is written, 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 as the man to whom I had spoken in the morning, the other was evidently an under-servant.

Each stared at me and at the burden I bore in amazement. The one recognised me, the other evidently wondered who I was.

"May I ask what you want," said the old servant, "and why you arouse the house at this time of the night?"

"Show me a room where your mistress can rest," I said.

"My mistress?" said the man. "Great G.o.d, who are you?"

As he said this he took a look at Ruth's face, and then with a shriek of 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 room where 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 by the man when he caught sight of Ruth's face had aroused the household.