ROGER TREWINION.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 12818, 18 March 1905, Page 3 (Supplement)

ROGER TREWINION.

BY .in.SK.PH lincKlNi:

[iTiiusinr a srntvi. aM.vxcemf..nt.l

Author of -The qcmiiiK of the kins. All Men Are Mum. rise Story of Amlta-v I'nllfa-.." etc . etc.

ciiM'ii.i: viii

Tin: iiki.i\M\<: "'■' '"" ' Ni '- 0. beware, my lord, of iciilo.i-Iy; 1, is the Kreen-cyr.l mo,--;...- which ''><>'"; The meat it 1 — - on; thai rueliold lives in Who."' cert 'in of his late, loves not hi-. \\ ronaer. , , But O. what damned minuic- tells lie <>< . Who dole-, .let. d inbts. «-n-)ecti. .vet "» !,l » '— -Othello."

Al( ,m, in mv room that .li-jl.t I '"'.-•"> ,„ think again. I had hur.ied luek lion. ll„. cave with feaiftil speed, never daring to stop or think. Now I could do both, and for hours I tried to solve the problem befoie me. What was the meaning of this night's adventure? Hail these women the power to rid me of a terrible calamity, or were the* seeking simply the protection I should he able to afl'oid in the future years - .' II,"V weie all in bad repute, and ofttinies I lie anger <>! the people was aiou-ed against them, and if they could gain me as their friend thev would be comparatively sale. Did they seek to frighten me into a promise, or was there some dread meaning in their Wolds?

These ijiie-iions drove me to pray, of. rather, to say my prayers. I did not. could not. icallv pray.' To' me there was no real (J,,d. All was' as misty and unreal as the mythical stoiies I had read about the fabled Greek gods. For bonis I sought light, and help, and strength ; but none came, and when daylight came I was still in doubt. The next', day I passed by old Deborah's cottage. I 1 bought .-lie might have something to say to me, but when she saw me she 'bent her head and would not answer to my "good day." Try as I would I could not help feeling 'thai -he had ill-will against me. ami would lose no opportunity to do ine an injuiv. Once 1 thought of speaking to inv father about it, but I dared not 101 l him that 1 had been to Fraddam's cave at midnight: that act was ill itself enough to bring darkness to my future, it there wete any truth in the stories which floated in the very atmosphere of my life. Days lengthened into weeks, and weeks into months, and nothing happened. Old Mally Udv passed and re-passed me, but she gave no sign of our midnight encounter. She dropped her usual curtsey of respect when she saw me. Thus it, was that the awe of the night in Fraddam's cave died out. I gave up seriously thinking about, it, and as the affairs of the Trewinion estate began to rest on me my mind was fully occupied. During the months that followed. I believe J was moodv and taciturn. At any rate, my sisters did not, find so much pleasure in'being with mo as formerly, while Until) was still my mother's companion. She wa.s alwavs kind to me. and seemed glad if she weic able to do little sisterly acts, but we were never alone together, and never were there any confidences between us. On my twenty-first birthday there were great festivities* at our house. All the tenant fanners, their wives, and their children, together with the cottagers and labourers on the estate, were invited.

These, with the neighbouring gentry, made a. gay scene. There was one vacant place, however, which largely spoiled the enjoyment of the day. This was my brother Wilfred's. Pie had been pressed to return, homo, but had refused to do so, even for the celebration of my corning of age. Indeed, he intimated that he did not wish to do so until, his three years of college life should come to an end.

My father was annoyed at this: but my mother said not a word. It seemed to me that she had expected things to turn out so, and was not at all surprised. Her behaviour to me after mv birthday was more marked than ever. She look no pains to make herself friendly towards me. yet. unless Deborah Teague were right, she was my mother.

The months slipped rapidly bv, until three years had elapsed since Wilfred 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 sisters often "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 or stately, but she was as fair as a spring morning, and lovely beyond compare. Great pains had been taken with her education, and this, added to her personal charms, caused her to be envied for miles around by girls of her own age. Her old friend Mr. Inch had remained at rim- house all this time, and tried to gratify her every wish. He was friendly with 'Wilfred, arid I found out that they corresponded regularly. Willi mo, however, he was not nearly so friendly. He was always polite, almost painfully so; but he never looked me straight in the face, and often. I thought, regarded me with dislike. I explained this partly by the fact of my uncouth ways and partly by his intimacy with my mother, who regarded him with great favour.

At length the day arrived when Wilfred came back. I shall' never forget it. for it began a new era in my existence. I awoke on the morning of that day bright and cheerful, with not a cloud that was worth Ihe mentioning upon the sky of my life. When I retired to rest all was changed. I awoke a. boy, [ went to sleep a man. But for that day these confessions would never have been written; the events I shall relate would never have coino to pass. Even now. as I look back, my heart beats more rapidly at the thought of it, and a strange feeling possesses me, which reminds me of what I felt then.

I remember how anxiously I saw the horses being attached to the old family carriage, and with what joy 1 caw my father and mother driven away to meet the coach by which Wilfred was to tome. I longed, as much as anv 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 I loved him vcrv much.

We all stood at the old ball door as the carriage drove up. and watched mv father alight. Then another form stepped on the haul gravel and carefully assisted my mother.

1 should scarcely have recognised him as mv brother. He bad gone away but little more than a. boy. he had returned a handsome, cultured man. He was not big and clumsy like mvself. but tall and lithe, and vet exceedingly muscular. There was grace in his everv movement, while refinement was stamped noon his handsome face. I could not help feeling the contrast between us. I was a ijrrat. boorish count it clown, he was as handsome as a Greek nod. Surely, too, there was a look of malicious satisfaction on my mother's face as she saw the difference bit ween nw. He seemed to change the vcrv atmosphere of the house. Everything had a new meaning when associated with him. Mv sisters looked at him with admiration, while Ruth was evidently fascinated by the charm of his presence. In his boyish days he had often seeni°d sulky, but thai was all gone. His demeanour towards mv father was at once inspect fill and nflV.-tionate, to his mother he was kind and loving, to the fills he was ['allai't and considerate, while to me I thought he extended an air of patronage. The old Wilfred was gone, and a new Wilfred had taken bis place: a Wilfred who was brilliant, gallant, scholarly.

I remember that we dined early that day —about thtee o'clockafter which I went out alone, as 1 often did. and sat upon the great headland which stood out against the sea. 1 remained there some time tbinkin" and wondered wbaf kind of a life we should lead now thai Wilfred had come back. 1 fell in some way ihat 1 had no right to mv father's estate: I was not fit for if. and thai I lived there on mv brother's bounty.

Tb"se thoughts were disturbed bv the sound of voices, and looking up I saw a sight thai caused my brain to whirl and my heart to throb violently.

Wilfred unci Rut', vote welkins; aim-in-arm, and he was lon king at her at once l.nder'v .iikJ will) an air of proprietorship. Then T kti"w what T did not know before, then I realised what nearly ilvove me wild. I loved Rnili Morton with fill the strength of mv Kpinp. while she. I could tell from the tender. confiding look on Iter face, was in love with niv brother Wilfred.

1 staggered (o mv feet, scarcely knowing what I was doing, and stared fheiu in the face foolidilv. '

" Aii. Honor." said Wilfred, lightlr. "enjoviiii; yniii=plt in ho old wav?. All play and no work. TTapnv fellow, yon. Reiser hid ;'■••>!. some people are horn liv-kv."

1 felt mv-elf (reded as a child. ' There was ,-i sali>io;.l look upon his face as he Mink", and his tone wis- that of a man speaking (o another of inferior intellect.

1 did not answer his sally. T onlv felt desirous of joining in (heir walk, of baving a chance, no le=s than be. of speaking to Ruth, mi I stammered out :

"You jii-i-, going for a walk; let me go with -~:•."

lie did not hesitate a minute before reDiviiii.'. and in the same tone as he spoke befnr<\

"'Nun won't iiiiml. Till sin*. osier. wllP'l I (HI von (lut we prefer taking (bis walk alone. We haven't met for three rears, and have so much Jo say to each other."

i was treated as a child, and ! Itecnnie angrv. I was about to say something foolish, hut before I could utter (lie words they wore gone, and 1 heard Wilfred laugh a. low. sneering kind of laugh. 1 think I was marl during the remainder of that, afternoon. Mr brain was on lire, and everything seemed to whirl around me. My love was no sooner known to myself than (he object of it was snalihed from me hv another, and that other mv brother.

I tried to convince myself that lie was more worthy tlian T. ]' told myself that 1 was a country bumpkin, an ignorant down, anil unworthy to aspire to a maiden like Ruth Morton. ' That T was under a curse, that J dared not leave the TieMinion lands for six months at a time, and that it was better .she should love Wilfred, 'this, however, did not, satisfy inc. Try as I would to stifle iT I could not help thinking 1 had more claims: to her love than lie. What had lie clone for her? Nothing! T. on the other hand. htwl twice risked my lift- for hers. But for lire she would hive died, and yet she had bestowed her love on another. Had she? 1 could not. toll, and yet there could be little or no doubt about it. Wilfred was capable of winning any woman's affection, and I felt sure she would not. resist his wishes. The very first d'iy of his re!urn hey had cone away together, ami no doubt he would impress her with his cleverness and greatness. < 1 would know the, truth ami that soon. Such was my determination. J would ask her to walk alone with mo as she had done with Wilfred, and then I would find out.

I cannot describe my new-found love, or, rather, the knowledge of the love I had felt for years. It was so strange, so great. I had from the first- taken a great interest in Ruth; from the first I had regarded her as a very dear sister. Now she was a thousand times more than a sister. Nothing was too good for her. My one great thought, was to give Ruth happiness and joy. Why. then, did I not. without a murmur sacrifice her to Wilfred? Surely he could give her more happiness and joy than I? Strange as it may .seem I felt that he could not. I shuddered at the thought of her belonging to him in any way, and I ground my teeth at tho thought of their being together. Perhaps this was because of my jealousy. Nevertheless, lam sure that rough, uncouth, aye, half-savage as I was, J would willingly have laid down my life to »ave her from pain.

■ I had no chance to speak•to her that day, nor the next, nor indeed for many days. When my chance came- something stepped in between us. Either Wilfred was with Ruth, or my mother claimed the girl as her companion. 1 need not say that this maddened me more than ever, and made me act in anything but a creditable way. I would leave the merry family party and go down to the village to talk with the fishermen. I would seek to forget my own sorrows by laughing at their jokes, or entering into their lives. Again, I would indulge in long, lonely walks, or go away fishing alone. I knew I was fighting against my own interests by doing this. I knew I was allowing my brother to use every fascinating art in his power. •At length my time came. We had all been out in the' harvest ileitis together, watching the reapers cut the golden wheat and gather it into sheaves. Surely the earth has few fairer sights than this! I have travelled over a great deal of the globe, but-1 have seen nothing fairer than our old Trewinion fields at harvest time. Especially was this so beneath the light of the harvest moon. I shall never, "forget it. As twilight faded a thin mist rose from the earth, which. as the pale moon's rays shone through it, looked strangely beautiful. The corn moughs- (stacks)! too. looked weird and ghastly in the dim light, while the silver sea in' the distance ma/la a low. delicious music as it gently rippled on the shore. In the distance I could hear the men and women singing on their homeward way some plaintive Cornish songs, which to me blended sweetly with the low sighing of the wind. Ruth and I had by pome means became separated from the rest, and my heait fluttered rapidly, for I had determined to find out if she loved my brother Wilfred.

fred. It has never been mv way to lead up slowly to a subject. What 1 have to say 1 must blurt out at once, oftliines in a way that gives paiu to those to whom I speak. "Ruth," I said. "1 have long wished to tell you something." "Have you. Roger?" she said, cheerfully, " then tell* me at one?, for you have made mo 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 at, Honeysuckle Lane."

"Very well,"' she said, gaily: "and you'll pluck some of the honeysuckle for me, won't you? I can smell it fioni here; how delirious it is. Wouldn't Wilfred enjoy this?" She was thinking of Wilfred even now. when she was alone with me, and I was about <> burst out with an angry remark about my brother when I looked down into her face.

To me if seemed like the face of on angel. Her large, lustrous grey eyes had a far-away look in them, and.an expression of sweat, placid contentment rested on every feature. Never hove I seen a face so sweet, so beautiful. Tenderness, truth, puiitv were there, mingled with courage,. sacrifice, daring. It was a face never to be forgotten when once seen. Never did I love her as I did then, and I could not say angry word.* about my brother. I have said I was clumsy in my mode of expression. I could say nothing as it should lie said: and now. when I felt I ought to Ik* more than usually careful, I was more than ever confined. "Come, Roger." she said, "what is it you want to tell me?' " I want to know. Ruth,"' T said, my voice trembling. " why you shun me. dislike me, hale me so?" CHAVTKT. IX.

(MI.KN'S or DAItK.VKS*. Look here upon this picture ami on this The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See what a grace wnfl seated on this brow: Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mar-, to threaten and command. -" Hamlet." Act 111.. Scene 3. What are these. So wit herd, ami so wild in their attire. That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth. Anil yet are on't? Live you? or are you alight That man may question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her chappy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. —"Macbeth." Act 1.. Scene 3. She looked up as if surprised at my question. " Mate vim. pljuii you, Roger," she repealed. Whatever led you to ask such a question?" "How can I help asking it," I said. " when it- is true? You never have a word for me now. Your every thought is given In my brother. I suppose it is because Roger i.« a boor, Roger is a clown, Roger is ugly. "What can possess you to speak in such a wav?" she .'aid.

J know 1 had spoken wildly : but I could not help it. 1 was mad with rage and jealousy. Having once begun to speak all judgment ami discretion were gone. I was determined to know my fate, determined to know if she loved mv brother Wilfred.

" I'o.ws*.- me!" I ausweied. "Well. T hardly know: but this 1 know. I'.ver since my prig of a biothei has come homo flora Oxford with bis affected .-mile .and fluttering ways Ruth has had no ears or eves for anyone else." "Still 1 fail to -.i tides stand von," she said. "1 do not doubt," I replied, savagely, "that I am too ignorant a clown to make mv meaning clear. Were Wilfred speak-ing-yon would understand him. He would put his thoughts in such poetic language, and speak in such cooing tones that little Until would b" made to think us he thought ami feel as he fell ; but 1— 1 am nobody." •'

Roger," she siiiil. " von imp not kind, yon are not sneaking Like my bi-_» brother." "No, 1 cannot," [ said, "I do not feel that I am your brother. What kind feeling hove vnii towards me? Not a jot. It "is Wilfred, Wilfred, ever Wilfred."

She walked on by my side in silence. I feeling that 1 had been a brute, a savage. What right had I to speak so roughly, and thus to annoy her? 1 looked down at her face, and 1 saw thai her eyes were filled with (ears ami her lip* trembled. For a moment my jealousy and anger were gone. ''Forgive me. sister Ruth.'' I said. "I ought not to speak so. Tiy and toilet what I have said. See. we aie in Honeysuckle Lane, ami here is some."

I picked a. sprig of honeysuckle a-; I Spoke and gave it- to her. which she received kindly. This emboldened me. Perhaps after all I was not so hateful to her. 1 have not a very poetical nature; hut I think tin? scene by which we were surrounded moused what little 1 had. The birds were finding 'their way to the hedgelows to peek rest for the night, ever and luion giving a faint chirp of content. The beetles wen I humming heedlessly by. the l>ces laden with honey returned to their hives, ami all nature seemed to he at peace. The honeysuckle and the hedge flowers that grew in wild confusion perfumed the lane in which we. walked; the inns hung in thick clusters on the fences. blackberries everywhere abounded. One by one the stars came out of their obscurity until he heavens became glorious; and as we walked on the evening became more still. The harvesters reached their homes, and we no longer heard the sound of their voices. The night wind served only to make delicious music as it- played with the leaves on the trees and hedges or coquetted with the golden corn. Now and then we could hoar the -sea murmur its old, old song. To me it told of peace, ami calm, and beauty. And I was alone with the maiden whom I loved more dearly than my life. I said that Iter kindness emboldened me, so with great- trembling hands I took her bonnet from her head and Move a piece of honeysuckle amid her nut-brown hair. Beautiful, beautiful Ruth! Yes, after the long stretch of weary years I still call her so; but that night she was to me more than beautiful, she was like an angel. J was young and unsophisticated, and— and I did not know what was coming. (To be continued on Wednesday next)