ROGER TREWINION.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 12853, 29 April 1905, Page 3 (Supplement)

ROGER TREWINION.

[I'UBLISHP.D JY SPECIAL aERaNCEMEXT.]

BY JOSEPH HOCKING, Author of " Tlio Coming of the King," " All Men Are Liars," " The Story of Andrew Fairfax." etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXII. THE VOICE OF THE DEAD. He stayed the corpse beside the grave? " A sign, a sign!" quoth he. " Marv Mother, who rules Heaven, Send me a sign it I be forgiven By the woman who so 'oved 'i.e. •

A white dove out of the coffin flew; Earl Harold's mouth it lust.; He fell on his faro wherever he stood. And the white dove carried 1113 sot.i to Gou, Or ever the bearer's wist.

CiiXei.es KTNGSIjEY.

01). 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 liave passed since the events I am now narrating, yet my flesh creeps as I write. Imagine, if you can, the circumstances that surrounded me; think of the position in which I wa-~ placed. 1 had learnt amidst anguish and despair that the woman I loved, and who I thought, had called me home, was dead, and 1 bad determined to visit her grave and to see her dead face. Then when I had found my way C; he: tomb, and uncovered Tier rest-ing-place, I had seen the- one whom I had thought dea<? move, and give other signs of life. When she sat up in her coffin my blood froze in my veins.

War it my Ruth who lived? Was her death only fancied after all? Now 1 saw a purpose in all my blind wanderings! Now I understood the cry which I bad heard sweeping across the weary waste of waters-, "Come home and save me, Roger!" Now I saw meaning in my mad impulse to come to Morton Hall, even when the fires of hell burnt in my soul! Now I knew why J had heard the Strang-- words, " Visit her tom'b!"

Merciful heaven, from what had I saved her? Suppose she had regained consciousness while within the confines of that narrow coffin! No air, 110 room, no light! The horror or the thought is enough to drive one mad ; what, then, must the reality be?

This flashed through my mind in a moment, but I did not stay to think of 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 whom my heart, had been weeping tears of bloodwas alive ; she was sitting up in her coffin —she uttered .> cry. Ruth was not lost for ever.

And still I did not know what to do: still I could l not act or speak! My mind was confused, my head was dizzy; the very vault in which I stood seemed to whirl around.

For a second we gazed into each other's eyes; she with a fearful, yet curious, wondering look, I with a look of madness, it once of joy, of fear, of dread ! Then slie spoke, slowly, tremblingly, but still clearly, and I remembered the voice. "What is this? Where am I? Is this heaven?"

"All is well!" I whispered. "It must be," she said, in » dazed kind of way. "lam so rested, so free from pain, and then your voice is so familiar. Where am I, and who 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 repeater slowly, as if trying to impress the thought oh he. halfawakened mind; "I am s<> glad." "You are safe here," I went on; '"no one shall harm you in any way. Do not be afraid whatever you may see." Sfc« looked arounr the vault, then a. loot i.' horro. came into lie., eyes ass she saw where she sat. "I am in a coffin!" she gasped. "Am I dead?" "No," I said. "it is oil a mistake} but all is well. Think, try and remember the past." I saw that she mad*.- a mental effort, and then slowly -light came into lie. eyes. "I was very ill," she said, "and so weak and weary. I wanted to die because cause—what wa? it? Oh, I remember now ——because 1 wit/ to —Wilfred, and I did not love him, and my wedding robe was made, and the wedding day was fixed, and f gave up hope that lie was ever coming home." 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 1 was going to die. and I was glad, for I felt I could not endure 'being wedded to another." She spoke as if dreaming, or as if she unknowingly expressed the thoughts' that dimly passed through her mind.

[ "Well," I said, "you wanted in die; you grew weaker and weaker, until your friends thought you were dead, anil you were brought here." " Here! Here!" and she looked eagerly around. "Where am I? The light is so dim that I cannot see." The candle was now very low in. the socket of the lantern, and I scarcely knew what to do. hut I tried to assure her that all was well. "You need lie'; be afraid,'' I said; "it was all a mistake. You were, thought to be dead, and you were on,light to the grave of your family." "The grave, the family vault," sin said, "in the church, undci the Communion! But how came you here, and who are you?" The time had come fo. me to- tell her, and L trembled lest I should saj a mistaken word, or arouse a harmfu" feeling. I felt that the slightest thing might unhinge hei delicately-balanced mind, and I scarcely knew what to sav. "Can't you think who I am?" T saiili at length. "You called me home when J was away on the- distant seas. I heard you say, 'Hosier, come home,' and I came, for I knew that yon needed me." "Rosier' Roger!" she said; "what! my Roger?" 'I lie. words came out apparently unthinkingly. She did not know what she was saying. " i -s. Roger.' - ' I said, " vour Roger. T came back ti liml von. J heard you were, dead, and it drove me nearly mad. T. felt I must come soul see- your dead face, so 1 tame here and found, you, not dead, butonly ii.-leep. and 1 --[ awoke you." I watched iier lace as 1 spoke. si ill holding her hand in mine. Slowly she realised 1 things as they were; slowly one fact after another- passed through her mind, until .she saw clearly. At first then- was an expression of horror on her face, then she looked eagerly at me and f saw I endenie.ss- love in her eves. 1 dropped her hand and opened my arms. She did not hesitate a moment, flint- struggled to come to me. so J look her ill my .arms and pressed her to my heart! Oil, how she clung to me. while T held her fast, mv heart trembling for joy as I heard her whisper, " Mv Roger come home to me!" Then I realised how cold .she was, and saw, too, that she was wrapped only in a shroud. "You are cold. Ruth." T said. "So cold, Roger; but 1. do not mind' now!" The light, in the lantern became dimmer. and I had no more candle. I thought of the candles in the church, and wondered how i could get at them. "Ruth." T said, "could you bear to stay here while 1 go into the church for another light? Our caudle is nearly out." "No, Roger," she said, clinging to me, " I could not bear for yon to leave me," and she clung to me more closely. I lifted her out of her narrow lied raid prepared to carry her. I had not much difficulty in this. She was very light, very thin.

Taking tin 1 lantern in my Land I bore her away from, her dread testing-place. Willi what a sense of relief I lifted my darling through Hip narrow entrance! Willi what gladness T realised that she was not dead ! When I went down my heart was cold and heavy as lead, now it was warm, it beat with new life. I went down in what seemed to lie (he darkness »f death; I came out into the. light of heaven ■

T seized a candle which stood on the Communion table and lit it from the one in my candlestick", which had almost gone out.

Then I tried to lake off mv coat 'o wrap her in, hut. this she would not. allow me to do. She was still unselfish Itu.!i, suffering herself rather than let another suffer. So I took the cloth that lay on the table, tjie cloth which was marked with a cross. I wrapped her in. that, and surely I committed no sacrilege in doing so. It was large and 1 warm, and entirely covered her, all but her white feet that peeped out from under her shroud. I took another look at her, a longing, ravishing look. Her old beauty was coming 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, some : ; thing like the smile I had seen in the olden days. " Dare you kiss me 111 my shroud, Roger?" she said. Dare I! T covered her face with kisses, and as I did so I forgot everything, forgot all J had clone, forgot where I was. 1 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 going to do with me, Roger?" she said. " f am going to carry you home," I said. "Home! Home where?" " Home to Morton Hall." " fan you?'' she said. "It is a long way." " Can 1 ?" I said with a laugh. She looked at me as though she gloried in my strength, and- was glad she could trust herself to inc. I carried her down the silent church; but. 110 longer did my lantern throw weird shadows 011 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 1 was to do with them. The old sexton would lose his senses if he were to see the precious burden I bore. J. locked the great door and took her out into the silent night. 1 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 eo to Ruth. Ido 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, 110 pain, 110 sorrow. The gravestones told me no sad stories, the shadows of the trees were only beautiful pictures painted on the greeu grass. When I came to the churchyard gate I saw the old sexton.

"What have 'ce got there?" he gasped. "Take your keys and lantern," I said. lie took them both mechanically, and thee looked at Ruth awestruck.

" Where did 'cc take et from?" lie said ill a hoarse whisper. " Her crave," I said.

He took a look at Ruth's face, which was clearly to he seen in the moonlight, and immediately recognised it. "Great Loard!" he cried, "'tes our dead lady's face, 'tis our dead lady, and the devil have got her."

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

[ did not stop him ; I did not think it necessary. Soon the truth must come out, and then all his fears would be allaved.

Never shall I forget the journey from the village church to the home of the Mortons. My jov 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. 1 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 herselff 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 lie 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 ball, awl 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 XIII.

THK SHADOW OP EVILS REWABI).

Avenge not yourselves; but rather gire place auto wrath, for it is written. Venpreanco is mine, and 1 will repay, saith. the Lord. Be not overcome of evil; but overcome evil with good, „ —The Epistle to tlif> Romans,

Ask if I love thee? Oh, smiles eannot tell Plainer what tears are now showing too v*ell* Had I not loved thee my sky had been clear* Had I not loved thee I hail not been here. Weeping by thee. Ask if I love thee? How else could I borrow* Pride from a man's slander, and ijtrengUi from my sorrow? Laugh, when they sneer at the lunatic's bridey Knowing no bliss, save to abide, Weeping by thee. CHARLES KINGSLEY. When the door opened I saw two men* servants, each bearing a, candle, each look-< ing as frightened as men could well do.-' One I recognised as the man to whom I had spoken in the morning, the other was evidently an under-servant. Each stared a ; i me and at the burden J! bore in amazement. The one recognised me, the other evidently wondered who Jj n'iu;. . "May I ask what you want," said tho" old servant, "and why do you arouse thq house at this time of the night?" " Show me a' room where your mint res 3 can rest,'' 1 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- shriek of fear he* rushed away from us. "Come back," [ said, "there is nothing* of which vou need be afraid." "Afraid!" he gasped; "that is the dead body of my mistress." " Vi/.ir mistress is not dead," I said, " she is alive; show me a loom where I nay, rest her, and she will speak to you." 'trembling lie led the way to a room,] where I laid her down, and then, at my command, he went away to get food audi drink for her. Soon after the other servants appealed,, .The- shriek of horror given by the man' when lie caught sight of Ruth's face had aroused the household. Never shall I forget the expression on their faces as theyt looked at me as I sat by the side of the pro-< cious burden I had borne. Evidently the! younger of the two servants had told them! what I had said, for they were afraid trt speak, and kept gazing at us fearfully, yofj wonderingly. Ruth was now becoming exhausted. After the scene in the church the journey] home had been too much for her. Perhaps* also, the a illness of her position, together l 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, weep-*' ing and trembling. Some I found were oui 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 he 'broken up, and those who had grown greyheaded 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 astonish.-* menfc knew no bounds.

Presently we heard a tottering step out* side 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, lie 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 God,. 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 tin-, consciously she came nearer, to me. 1 think the old man saw this, for nl .strange look passed 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 Trewiniontell us all,, . how this great miracle liaa been accom-i plished." A look of intelligence passed 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; i 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 i my readers the terrible interest that was , taken. i Perhaps I ought not to. have . told .thai story 'before the servants ; but we were too r excited to know what was right and seemly..-' Indeed, so overwrought were we' that Ruth!; had not been divested of her strange gar-' inputs, and soon after I had finished my. 1 narrative I felt how thoughtless I had been*, and how neglectful of her coming. ~ When Ruth was taken to her room, how* ever, with two of the maids to attend her.,, the excitement began to pass away, ancfi 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 l>liss«, fill present. • "This will cause much talk, and necessitate much investigation," said the old stex ward. "I suppose so," said I, absently.- " "A great lawsuit would have come on," 1 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; bug it will be the won', der of the countryside. I wonder what! Wilfred will say?" I had forgotten Wilfred. The feelings ( aroused 'by seeing Ruth olive had for the' time quieted all my bitter memories of hay. struggle with Wilfred, together with awful ending. • "I wonder what Wilfred will say!" v i The words struck terror into my soul:* Wilfred, unless now discovered, was lyingi bruised, battered, dead, on the great rocks beneath the cliffs. Perhaps the fishes mignti know of his presence, and the great, sadsea would sweep remorselessly over his life 4 less body; but Wilfred would never know', of what had been done. My heaven ot joyful thoughts was gonrf now. The hell of bitter memories, the hell of a murderer possessed me. '' The old man's remark was left imam swered. It had dashed mo down into d great gulf; it had led me to make whati was to me a terrible resolve.

A little while later Ruth came back fcr* the room again. The servants had tried to persuade her to retire; but she declared that she could not deep and she wished fa, 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 lietf eves, and she did not hide from me th<* fact, that I was the king of her heart.

But this gave me no joy now, no heavenThe 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 lha 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.'. F 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.

iTo be continued oil Wednesday next]