Roger Trewinion Part 38

"Could you tell me," I said as he came near, "how far Morton Hall is from here?"

"Morton Hall," he replied, "I' sh' think I cud. I ain't a lived in this ere neberhood for vive and vorty year wiout knawin' that?"

I waited for him to go on, but he did not speak another word, and then, looking at me strangely, prepared to drive on.

"_Will_ you tell me, then?" I said.

"You asked me if I _cud_," he said, "not ef I _wud_. Es, I'll tell 'ee, tes nine mile'n haaf," and the farmer drove on.

Nine miles and a half! I had walked twenty-five miles then, and more.

I was very tired, and I knew not why I should go there; but, impelled by a strong power, I hurried on.

By this time the day was quite warm, and soon I began to feel the perspiration ooze from my forehead, so seeing a stream of clear water running by the roadside I stooped down and washed myself. It helped and refreshed me much, and enabled me to think more calmly. Then I remembered that many a long hour had pa.s.sed since I had tasted food. I felt hungry and faint, but I walked on, for there seemed small hope of obtaining food for some time. Happening, however, to pa.s.s near a farmhouse I heard some one singing. It was a milkmaid sitting among her cows, singing as she worked, and her song was the expression of a light heart free from guilt. Jumping over a stile I made my way towards her, and seeing me coming she stood up and curtsied.

"Can you sell me some milk, Mary?" I said.

"No sur, I can't sell any, and my name edn't Mary but Em'ly, but I can give 'ee zum."

With that she ran to the house, and soon appeared with a quart jug, which she dipped into the bucket and filled, then handed it to me. I drank it greedily, and I did not take my lips from the jug until I had nearly emptied it. To me it was both meat and drink, and it gave me new life. I offered the girl money, but she refused it indignantly.

"As thoa," she said, "anybody cud taake money vur a drap a milk."

I had no difficulty in accomplis.h.i.+ng the remaining distance after this, and soon after I came to the park gates of Morton Hall. Then the real difficulty of my position was revealed to me. What should I do now I had travelled these thirty-five long miles? what object could I have in visiting the house? what should I say if any one asked me my business?

Although I could not settle this in my mind, I opened the gate and strode up the long drive. It was a fine house, and had been kept in good repair. Great trees bordered the way, but hid not the colossal pile that was plainly to be seen at the end of the widening avenue.

Without waiting a second, or being able to give a reason for what I was doing, I went to the main entrance and rang the heavy bell.

An old, grey-headed servant appeared, looking exceedingly solemn, and asked my business.

"I want to see the owner of this place," I said, speaking on the impulse of the moment.

"There is no owner," was the reply.

"How is that?" I asked, abruptly.

He looked at me keenly for a minute, as though to sum up my social position and qualities before answering. Evidently he was an old and trusted servant.

"It is not a matter for strangers," he said, "but if you have any business I will convey it to the person who is at present in charge."

"My business is of importance," I said, speaking from secret impulse, and not knowing what I should have to say next. "I can only entrust it to the owner."

"But the owner is dead," he replied, "and who the new owner will be is not known yet. There are many claiming to be next-of-kin, and Mr. Inch and the lawyers are busy at work."

"Mr. Inch is the steward, I suppose?"

The man nodded, but did not speak.

"The late owner was a lady," I said, speaking more calmly than I had thought myself capable. "I used to know her. Miss Ruth Morton was her name. I have a message of great importance; but you say she's dead."

Again the servant looked at me keenly.

"I know Mr. Inch too," I went on, "and I must see him. Perhaps he was not as faithful to his mistress as he should have been; he must answer me that."

This I said as one in a dream, for I had not thought of it before. It caused a light to flash from the man's eyes, however, and he spoke more freely.

"I will tell Mr. Inch you are here," he said, "and I will answer any question I can. I have been a servant in this house all my life, and I loved Miss Ruth like as if she were my own child."

"Did she ever live here after her father's death?" I asked.

"Not until she came of age; then she used to come here through the summer months, but returned to Trewinion, I believe, because of her father's wish."

"What did your mistress die of?" I asked, abruptly.

The old man was silent.

"Can you not tell me?" I urged.

"I cannot," he said, stiffly. "I dare say you could know by applying to the doctor."

I could not help noticing a strange look in his eyes as he spoke, but I said quietly.

"Then you will, perhaps, tell Mr. Inch I wish to see him."

"Yes sir. What name?"

"No name."

"No name? He will not see you."

"Tell him a friend of the Trewinion family wishes to see him."

He gave me a searching look and then went away, and in a minute more came back and showed me into a room, telling me that Mr. Inch would see me immediately.

I had not to wait long. Soon I heard a slow, measured step along the hall; then the handle of the door turned, and Mr. Inch and I were gazing steadily into each other's face.

CHAPTER XX

"VISIT HER TOMB"

O, how blest are ye whose toils are ended!

Who through death have to G.o.d ascended!

Ye have risen From the cares which keep us still in prison.

--LONGFELLOW.