Roger Trewinion Part 58

"Then," I said, "if it is true, I cannot allow you to link your life with 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 bear them with you. I do not believe a curse can fall on a heart that is full of love like yours; but if you are to be cursed, Roger, I shall help you to bear it."

And thus there was light, even on the one black cloud of the sky of my life.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

THE DAWNING OF THE MORNING

I would fain linger over that evening, and the days which followed. To me a new life full of joy and pleasure began. And yet I did not feel quite at rest. A fear constantly haunted me that Ruth would be taken away from me, so I begged her that there should be no delay in arranging for our wedding.

When I left her the following morning, I made her promise that she would not go out of the house, unless under sufficient escort, while she in return made me promise that I would not for any length of time stay away from her. With a sad heart I mounted Black Bess to ride back to Trewinion Manor, and watched her until we could no longer see each other as she stood with tearful eyes at the hall door, but it was only to 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 of Wilfred's schemes.

"And you, Roger?" she asked anxiously, "are you going to give me Ruth for a daughter?"

I think my answer satisfied her, for a look of contentment came into her eyes.

As soon as possible I consulted the old family lawyer, and together we discussed the affairs of the estate. They were quite as bad as Wilfred had declared. Everything he could turn into money he had sold or mortgaged, until there was scarcely any unenc.u.mbered property; but the lawyer told me that, with care and economy, I might in a few years replace what Wilfred had so extravagantly wasted.

I also visited my sisters, and found them delighted beyond measure at seeing their brother again, and looking forward with joyful antic.i.p.ations to welcoming their new sister.

Altogether my life was very happy, and as I constantly rode over to Morton Hall to see the sweet woman who had promised to be my wife, and watched the gladsome smile that lit up her face whenever she saw me coming, my cup of joy was full.

A month later we were wedded in the old church, from which I had carried her more than a year before.

When I entered the gloomy building, I almost felt like shuddering, so awful were its a.s.sociations, and when I saw the clergyman take his stand near the very spot from which I had turned back the stone, to enter the resting-place of the dead, I could not help picturing what I had then seen. I think Ruth must have felt it too, for her hand trembled in mine. Perchance she thought of the awful doom from which, by the mercy of G.o.d, I had rescued her; but when I heard the old clergyman p.r.o.nounce us man and wife, and then repeat in solemn tones the words that were full of meaning to me, "whom G.o.d hath joined together let no man put asunder," my heart thrilled with a new joy, for I felt I possessed the greatest blessing on earth.

And then as the bells pealed out, while with Ruth on my arm we traversed the long nave, it seemed as though the angels of G.o.d were there to smile on our wedding morn.

And what of Ruth? In her great happiness, she could scarcely grieve for the long years of pain, and as she nestled nearer to me, on our way back 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 other again.

At the wedding festivities, my mother sat, pale and sad, perchance thinking of Wilfred, of whom we had heard nothing since the night he had been disappointed of his hopes. As soon as they were over, we went back to Trewinion, which we both decided should be our home.

I shall never forget the scene as we returned and entered by the postern door into the grounds. All the people in the parish had gathered together to do us honour, and with gladsome words and hearty cheers they bade us "welcome home." They lit great bonfires on the headland, 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 brooded over the past, and was anxious about Wilfred.

"Mother," said Ruth, brightly, "your sad days are over now; let only bright 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 have had happiness instead of misery these eleven long years? How can I think of gladness when my accursed selfishness has destroyed my boy's life, made him hate his mother, and driven him into the world an outcast? And, besides this, it is I who have led him to curse you and be 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 turning round we saw Deborah Teague. She was ninety years of age now, and bent almost double, but she had hobbled up from her cottage to speak to the new squire.

"Maaster Roger," croaked the old dame, "do 'ee remember that there night when you come'd up to Betsey Fraddam's cave in the middle ov the night?"

"Very well, Deborah," I answered.

"People do zay as 'ow we ain't got no power," she went on; "but ded'n us tell 'ee true? We tould 'ee you'd 'ave to suffer; but there's no curse 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 do hate, 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 'em to love, for love es the only power 'gainst curses, and as sure as you'd live, yer brother es yer enemy, and aw, Maaster Roger, remember Trewinion's curse!" As she spoke she lifted her skinny hand, as I had seen 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 the years 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 that Wilfred was married. During the years of my absence he had made the acquaintance of a lady whose father's estate joined Ruth's, and whom he had fascinated by his handsome presence and smooth speech.

The news made me glad at first, for I hoped that his marriage would put an end to his enmity and make us brothers again. But when I went to see him he at first refused to see me, and then he told me he had only married to gain wealth and power, both of which should be used to crush me and mine.

And so, to my heart's deep sorrow, he still remained my enemy, the door of his heart continued to be shut towards me, and the one black cloud on my sky continued to remain.

After that two years pa.s.sed quietly away, during which time my mother grew weaker and weaker, and although I trust that her life was not altogether sad, yet she was constantly weighed down with the one great trouble of her life. At the end of two years she became too weak to leave her room, and after a few weeks pa.s.sed away. Before she did so, however, she asked us to send for Wilfred; but he refused to obey her summons, and so she never saw him from the night on which he told her he hated her for cursing his life.

Shortly after she died a boy was born to us, but he only lived a few weeks. Then a little girl came; but she too was taken, and we began to fear the curse of my race. After that two more years pa.s.sed away without any event of importance, save that Deborah Teague died, and then another boy came, whom we called Roger, and he is with us yet, our joy 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 I believe in the legend of my race, and so I know not whether my son may have to suffer, and his children inherit a dreadful legacy.

It is true Wilfred still hates me, and has taught his children to hate me and mine. In a letter he sent me not long since, he tells me the curse of the Trewinion shall still fall on Trewinion's heirs, that they shall have blackened lives and terrible deaths.

What is that? It is Ruth asking me if my work is not almost done, and I answer, "Yes, I have almost done." And as I answer, I look up from my paper and see my dear one who has been with me for long years, ever my comforter, my counsellor, and joy. She has lost the fresh bloom of her womanhood, but to me she was never so beautiful as now. Never did I think that such a pure soul could exist on earth, or that a woman could be so brave in difficulty, so hopeful in sorrow, so comforting in the hours of darkness.

I look forward with hope and joy. Let the lamp of life burn dimmer and dimmer, I fear not. Ruth will be near me, and her presence will make me strong. But a few more years, and Ruth and I must enter the dark valley 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. I must confess that when I laid it aside the life of Roger Trewinion had become very real to me, and for a long time I sat thinking over the events which were related. Everything was more vivid to me, for I had for days past been living in the atmosphere of superst.i.tion, and speaking to people who still believe in many of the things about which Roger Trewinion spoke. Moreover, I had seen the old house, I had realised the rugged grandeur of the rock-bound coast, I had let my imagination brood over the great ma.s.s of rocks which are called the "Devil's Tooth." In spite of myself, too, I began to be influenced by the story of the "curse," which, although not clearly explained, was fearfully spoken about. Yet I could not see why a man like the present Roger Trewinion should allow himself to become a misanthrope because of it. Perhaps succeeding events had led him to shun society; but whatever may have been the explanation of his att.i.tude, I longed to know more about himself and his family, and before I went to sleep I made up my mind that I would go back to Trewinion Manor and see whether the "Trewinion curse" had manifested itself since the time the grandfather of the present squire wrote his confessions.