Roger Trewinion Part 14

"Since then," she went on, "I have been finding out my mistake, and I have wanted to tell you so; but you have always been so cold and repellent that I dared not. You are rough and stern, Roger, not a bit like Wilfred."

I bit my lip angrily.

"Yes, I know you have saved my life again," she said, as if divining my thoughts. "I know that Wilfred dared not do what you have done; but what I meant was that anyone who does not understand you would think you harsh. Besides, it takes some time to know you."

"But I always felt friendly towards you, Ruth, even though you seemed to dislike me."

"And I shall always be more friendly to you in the future. I want you to forgive me, Roger. Will you?"

She looked at me, and her great grey eyes were full of kindness, and her voice was so gentle that I felt quite uncomfortable.

"Don't talk about forgiving," I said, rather roughly, I expect, "let us be good friends."

She looked very pale as I said this, and then I saw that she was more shaken and hurt than I had at first thought. She would have fallen, I believe, had I not upheld her. I led her to a rock, where she sat down for a rest, and when I had found some fresh water for her, she was quite refreshed. She took hold of my arm as we walked home, however, and I felt a strange pleasure in helping her. She had grown just like one of my sisters to me, and she seemed to regard me as a brother.

We talked quite pleasantly on our way, until we forgot the great danger in which we had both been a little while before. I forget just now what we were talking about; but I know that while we were laughing heartily at something she had been saying we were startled by a voice telling us to stop.

We looked up, and Deborah Teague stood before us. She eyed us keenly, and when she saw how friendly we were, she said, "Maaster Roger, mind what ould Debrah said."

"I always do mind what you say, Deborah," I replied; "you have always been a friend to me."

"Maaster Roger," she continued, "ould Debrah hev vollied the fortins of yer family for years, and she ought to knaw."

"Well, what's wrong now?"

"It wur a woman as tempted Adam, it wur a woman as tempted Samson, it wur a woman as tempted Ahab. Lev Maaster Roger be keerful."

"I hardly know what you mean," I said, a little astonished at this strange speech.

She lifted her skinny hand above her head.

"Mind," she said, "mind Trewinion's curse! Oh, tes comin', tes comin'.

I see it now. Mind, Maaster Roger, my deer, mind. Doan't 'ee forgit what ould Debrah tould 'ee on the night of the storm, years agone.

'Twas the mawther that was too cunning for Esau, ah, and ef Maaster Roger ed'n keerful the mawther'll be too cunnin' for him."

Try as I would I could not help shuddering at her words, while Ruth clutched my arm convulsively.

"Keep boath yer eyes oppen, Maaster Roger, or the curse'll be upon 'ee, for as sure as ould Debrah spaikes tes comin'."

She waddled away when she said this, leaving us to wonder at her words.

What caused her to speak like this? How could she know what she did?--for her words came true. Did she possess some power to peer into the future? Were things clear to her vision to which I was blind? Or was it simply that she was clear headed and clever and her statements amounted only to a shrewd guess?

I will not dare to answer. I have seen so many strange things happen, which I have been unable to explain, that to say she was possessed of a power that was not natural would be unwise. And yet I have been fed upon strange mental food, and have been led to believe in things at which some laugh.

"What does she mean, Roger?" said Ruth, when she had gone.

I was silent.

"Do you think she is a witch?" she continued; "she looks like one."

"She is a strange old woman," I said, as lightly as I could, for I did not want Ruth to be made anxious, "and some think she is a witch; but Mr. Polperrow says she is only a clever old woman who knows more than the common run of villagers."

She was about to ask more questions when we saw my father, Wilfred, and my sisters coming towards us. Both my sisters gave a shout of joy, and I saw a glad look in my father's eyes. But Wilfred's face was black as night, and the gleam of a devil flashed in his eyes. He did not speak, and while the others were anxiously asking questions as to what we did and how we had managed, Wilfred stood and glared savagely at me. His eyes became red, and his face like the face of a corpse.

I asked myself whether my father had accused him of being a coward, or if my sisters had been foolishly praising me, as they sometimes did, for neither Katherine nor Elizabeth seemed to realise how rough and uncouth I was. I noticed, however, that when Ruth began to magnify what I had done, as in her exaggerated notions of things she did, he gave a cynical, sarcastic laugh, and walked back to the house alone.

Did Wilfred care so much about praise, I wondered, or was he bitter towards me because I was heir to the Trewinion lands? Why else should he be so unbrotherly to me?

I do not think my sisters did Ruth any good by talking to her about her danger, for it brought back to her that faintness which she experienced upon the sands, so we soon took her indoors, where, being able to rest in quietness, she recovered.

I do not think it is my nature to remain unfriendly with any one, so I made an opportunity of trying to find Wilfred, in order to know what I had done to offend him. I found, however, that he was with my mother, and did not wish to be seen.

Again Deborah Teague's words came back to me. Was Wilfred's mother my mother? If so, why was it she never allowed me into her private room?

Why were there no confidences between us as there were between her and my brother? Was she the cause of my brother's anger?

That evening we all sat together in the library, as we generally did before going to rest. Ruth still looked pale, and complained of pains.

Evidently her fall had hurt her more than we had thought. My mother sat near her, and lovingly held her hand, often saying soft loving words, as though she wanted to be a mother to her. I was glad of this, for I was sure that Ruth must often feel sad and lonely, and it must comfort her to know that although she was an orphan she was still beloved.

We all joined in conversation, with the exception of Wilfred. He sat behind his mother, never speaking a word. I forget now what were the subjects of discussion; it does not matter much. Still I cannot but wish that some clever painter could have put the gathering on canvas, for to me it looked beautiful. My father was so stately and grand, while my mother was, I think, the handsomest woman I ever saw; and behind her was the clear, Greek-like face of my brother. The three girls, too, looked the picture of contentment. It was a home scene in a quiet old house, and worthy of a painter's skill.

We had been sitting there some little time, when the vicar walked in.

He was always a welcome visitor and I regarded him as a sort of second father. He joined in our conversation quite naturally, and we soon became quite merry together.

Presently there was a lull in our talk, and then Wilfred, without any warning, broke out excitedly, and in a loud voice,

"Father, I want to go to Oxford."

We all looked at him in astonishment. He had been so silent all the evening that this made us think something was the matter.

My father eyed him keenly, and then replied quietly.

"I had arranged for you to go next year, Wilfred."

"Yes, but I want to go now," he said, excitedly. "I've been home here long enough; I've wasted enough time."

"You've not wasted so much time, my boy," said my father, kindly. "Mr.

Polperrow has had you in hand, and has given you a good drilling; besides, you are only just turned eighteen."

"I know," he said; "but I am the younger son, and so shall have no fortune. Thus, I think, I should waste no time in getting an education. Mr. Polperrow told me, not long since, that he could not do much more for me, and as I am to be 'penniless Wilfred' I think I might have a chance to earn my bread."

"You will not be penniless, Wilfred," said my father. "You will be as well endowed as most young men, and I have my plans for the future."

"But I can't stay here longer," he cried. "If I have talents why should I waste them here? Give me a chance, and then the second son may turn out to be as good as the elder."

This was spoken both bitterly and sadly, as if he felt his lot to be hard.

"I have come about this very matter," said Mr. Polperrow. "Wilfred has very great gifts, and the sooner he goes to Oxford the better. I have some little influence there, and if you thought fit I would make arrangements at once."