Roger Trewinion Part 44

Never shall I forget the expression on their faces as they looked at me as I sat by the side of the precious burden I had borne. Evidently the younger of the two servants had told them what I had said, for they were afraid to speak, and kept gazing at us fearfully, yet wonderingly.

Ruth was now becoming exhausted. After the scene in the church the journey home had been too much for her. Perhaps, also, the awfulness of her position together with dread memories, were too great for her to bear, so I bade the servants hurry in getting refreshments for her.

After taking some food she was, however, strong enough to sit up and to talk.

I will not describe what followed, nor how the servants crowded around her, weeping and trembling. Some I found were on the point of leaving, having received their discharge, while others wondered what their future would be. There had been every probability that the household would be broken up, and those who had grown grey-headed in the service of the family grieved much at the thought of leaving. And now, when all hope was gone, their mistress had come back, and their joy and their astonishment knew no bounds.

Presently we heard a tottering step outside the door, and in another second Mr. Inch appeared on the scene. For a minute I thought he would have fainted; but by a great effort he mastered himself, and came slowly to the place where Ruth sat, looking at her steadily in the face for, I should think, a minute. Then he heaved a great sigh, and said; "Great G.o.d, Thy ways are wonderful!"

I had been holding Ruth's hand all the while, and I felt her shudder as Mr. Inch approached. I was sure that she felt that he had not acted as her friend, and now, in spite of herself, she feared him, and unconsciously she came nearer to me.

I think the old man saw this, for a strange look pa.s.sed over his face, and he did not take her hand, as I was sure he had intended to do. He turned towards me, however, and said:

"Tell me, Roger Trewinion--tell us all, how this great miracle has been accomplished."

A look of intelligence pa.s.sed over the servants' faces as my name was mentioned. Apparently, it was well known to them, and all listened eagerly for my answer.

Then I told how, in leaving the house that morning, I had heard the voice telling me to visit her tomb, and had determined to do so. I will not describe the excitement and wonder of those who heard my experiences. It would take a pen far more able than mine to convey to the minds of my readers the terrible interest that was taken.

Perhaps I ought not to have told the story before the servants; but we were too excited to know what was right and seemly. Indeed, so overwrought were we that Ruth had not been divested of her strange garments, and soon after I had finished my narrative I felt how thoughtless I had been, and how neglectful of her comforts.

When Ruth was taken to her room, however, with two of the maids to attend her, the excitement began to pa.s.s away, and the servants, with the 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 trembled with fear and wonder, perhaps also because of a troubled conscience, I with a strange joy surging in my heart, thinking only of the blissful present.

"This will cause much talk, and necessitate much investigation," said the old steward.

"I suppose so," said I, absently.

"A great lawsuit would have come on," he said. "Two parties were claiming 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 wonder what Wilfred will say?"

I had forgotten Wilfred. The feelings aroused by seeing Ruth alive had for the time quieted all my bitter memories of my struggle with Wilfred, 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 the cliffs. Perhaps the fishes might know of his presence, and the great sad sea would sweep remorselessly over his lifeless body; but Wilfred would never know of what had been done.

My heaven of joyful thoughts was gone now. The h.e.l.l of bitter memories, the h.e.l.l of a murderer possessed me.

The old man's remark was left unanswered. It had dashed me down into a great 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 servants had tried to persuade her to retire; but she declared that she could not sleep and she wished to come to me.

She was Ruth again now, Ruth as I had seen her last. She had got rid of her terrible garments, and except that she looked very pale, and was a little older, I saw no difference in her. But there was a difference. Love was shining out of her eyes, and she did not hide from 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 brother Wilfred stood between us. I took her hand as she came in, and tried to soothe her, for I felt that she was still trembling, that she felt safe with no one but me. Then the old steward rose up and left us, and the servants likewise retired from the room. They saw our relations to each 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 allowed love, rather than duty, to fill my world, and I yielded to the gentle witchery of her presence. I had made up my mind to tell her all; but I postponed it for a while. "Time enough yet," I said; "let me have some happiness before eternal night sets in."

How gentle, how kind, how loving she was! Her every word told of the love she bore me, and had borne me for long years, every word told me how she believed in my goodness and purity.

What we talked of, I may not recount. I only know that for a few short minutes we lived in the blissful present. The thought of her great love was more powerful than the dread remorse which had possessed me a little while before.

And was it any wonder? Think, if you can, how I must have felt! Ten long years before I had left her, thinking she loved another, and all those years I had roamed the world in misery and hopeless despair. I had come back at the summons of a voice which I had heard, or thought I had heard, sweeping across the wide seas, and when I had arrived at the place 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, and had found that she loved me. More than that, she was with me, we were alone, 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 pa.s.sed, sweetly her gentle voice sounded as she told me how happy, how safe, how contented she was, and, in spite of her terrible experience, how little weakness she felt; and then she asked me to relate to her my adventure since the night on which I left the Trewinion Manor.

Again I remembered what I had done, again the agonies of remorse, which had been awakened by memory, began to eat into my soul. But I would tell her all. I would faithfully relate the tale of the years that had pa.s.sed, I would faithfully tell her what I had done.

And so I cast my mind back and told her what I have written in these pages. How I had gone away to sea, and how, for years, I had sailed in every clime, and with men of different nationalities. I recounted how I had been taken by the pirates, and how for two years I had been with them. I kept back nothing from her. I told her of many wild deeds that I had done, and of the wild life I had led. By and by I came to the night on which I had such a strange dream, or else had seen such a strange vision, and here I hesitated. It seemed so wonderful, and withal so unreal. I told it her, however, while she listened with wonder-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 the headland when you desired to be alone, and I felt I must go somewhere where you had been."

"Yes, Ruth, and afterwards?"

"I went out and wandered for a long time, until I felt my heart was breaking. I seemed all alone in the world, with no one to help me, and I cried out in anguish, 'Roger, come home.'"

"And I heard you, Ruth. After I had seen you in my dream, or whatever it was, I went on deck, and while there I heard your cry, and I answered 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 a mocking echo of my words."

"And yet your words called me home."

"Thank G.o.d--and then?"

I told her how I had come home, and had met with the fisherman who had informed me of her death, and how she had died because of Wilfred and Mr. Inch, who had goaded her to do what was death to her.

"And what followed, Roger?" she said, anxiously, as I hesitated a minute.

"I hated Wilfred as I never hated man before. I felt that he was deserving of the worst that could befall any man, and I determined to be 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, should I destroy her every hope? Yet the truth must out. It always does, and I should but put off the evil day by refraining from telling her. Yet it was terribly hard, the man must have a steady hand who writes his own death-warrant without shaking.

She saw, I think, how terrible was the ordeal, for she nestled closer to me and spoke gently.