Roger Trewinion Part 5

"It seems very curious, father," I said, when he had finished. "It is poor poetry, and has little or no meaning."

"I will say nothing about the poetry," replied my father; "no doubt it seems to you poor, silly doggerel; but I have no doubt of this, Roger, your interest and mine lie in abiding by what it says."

"But it seems so vague, father," I urged.

"Not so vague, Roger. Your grandfather took to unlawful ways. He kept a smuggling vessel, which in some cases ought to have carried a black flag, and the maiden he loved was given to another, who died of a broken heart. For twenty years my father's life was a curse. His mind was filled with the most horrible fancies. Dark dreams haunted his pillow, and then, although he married my mother, he was until the day of his death hara.s.sed by difficulties and crushed by oppressors."

"And did he die happy, father?"

My father looked very strange as I asked this question, and for a moment did not reply. Then he said, slowly:

"Roger, my boy, I was with him at the last, and never shall I forget the scene. It was as if a terrible dread rested upon him; and he seemed to feel an awful presence in the room.

"'Can I do anything for you, father?' I asked.

"'Send for the parson, Roger,' said he, 'and let him give me rest, or the curse that rests on me will rest on you.'

"It was midnight, and no one would dare to go, so I rode away alone to the vicarage. It was an awful ride. The powers of darkness seemed to know my object, for the elements were against me and I heard terrible howling along the sea coast; but I feared lest the curse of the Trewinions should fall upon me. The vicar was afraid to come when I told him about my father; but I threatened to drag him thither by the hair of the head if he refused. At length I got him to ride in front of me, and we came to my father.

"Ah, Roger, his cries were fearful! 'Take away Trewinion's curse!' he screamed, and he looked as though he saw angry spirits around him.

"The parson prayed, and, in the name of One above, commanded all evil to depart; but for a long time no ease came. Then there was a noise outside--three raps against the window, as though a bird had flown up against it. The moment after the light in the room changed.

"'Do you forgive everyone?' said the vicar.

"'No,' said my father, 'I can never forgive the man who stole from me the woman I loved.'

"'But,' said the vicar. 'Trewinion's curse cannot be removed while unforgiveness is in your heart.'

"My father looked at the blue light on the table, and then said, 'I'll try and say the Lord's Prayer.' He went steadily until he came to the words, 'Forgive us our trespa.s.ses as we forgive them that trespa.s.s against us.'"

"'I can't say the words,' he groaned.

"'Say them with all your heart and the curse will be taken away,' said the vicar.

"My father tried again and succeeded, and no sooner had he done so than the light changed and a holy calm rested upon us all.

"'It's gone,' said my father. 'May G.o.d bless you, Roger, and do you never forget the Trewinion's warning.'

"By this he meant the lines we have been reading.

"'I will never forget, father,' I said, and soon after he died happily."

My father left me then, placing in my hands the old nurse's lines. For a long time I mused over what he had said, and wondered about my grandfather's death-bed scene. Was it as my father had said? Was it Trewinion's curse that rested upon him? I began to think of what the vicar, my schoolmaster, had told us only the day before--that every sin brought a curse, brought misery, brought remorse, and while sin or unforgiveness was cherished in our hearts we could not realise happiness or forgiveness. Was this the case with my grandfather, or was my father's belief right?

The interview made a deep impression upon me, however, and a great awe rested on me for days. I felt that as the heir of the Trewinions I was surrounded by terrible powers, and I did not know whether they were good or evil. So my young mind was fed, and so my imagination was stimulated.

What was to be my future? What had the powers which took such an interest in my race in store for me? Looking back over the years that are gone I ask, Were the things told me superst.i.tious fancies, or is the Trewinion curse a reality? Remembering what has happened between then and now, I dare not answer the question.

CHAPTER II

THE WITCH'S WARNING

_Ban._ The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, and these are of them. Whither are they vanished?

_Macbeth._ Into the air; and what seemed corporal, melted, As a breath of wind. Would they had stayed!

_Ban._ Were there such things here as we do speak about?

Or have we eaten up the root That makes the reason prisoner?

_Macbeth_, Act. I, Scene 3.

Let it not be supposed that Wilfred and I ever had any quarrels, at any rate before my fifteenth birthday. I do not remember even one. This, however, was not my fault. Ofttimes when I was displeased I said things which, if said to many brothers, would have provoked a quarrel; but Wilfred apparently took no heed of my angry words; save to give me a peculiar look, which sometimes almost made me shudder. But he never lost his temper in return, or indulged in violent speech. This was peculiarly trying to me, for I was pa.s.sionate, and longed to give vent to my feelings; but he would shrug his shoulders at my rage and, with a strange smile, walk away.

Consequently, although my brother never spoke angrily to me, there were no confidences between us. We never told each other our thoughts, as most brothers do, and we were never companions in any escapades or adventures. Thus I did not speak to him about the curse of the Trewinions, nor of what my father had communicated to me about the history of our house. Yet Wilfred seemed to know far more than I did about everything appertaining to our people.

At first I wondered about this, but after a while I began to realise how much my mother and Wilfred were to each other, and how often they walked together. Besides, I often saw him in the library conning over books that to me contained no interest whatever.

About three years after the interview with my father, that is to say, when I was eighteen years of age and Wilfred sixteen, I had gone out on the headland, and, in a dreamy way, was watching the sea birds as they soared around and around, ever and anon making a dive into the water.

Up to this time I had remained a pupil of the Rev. Thomas Polperrow, but had been told by my father that my school days were over. He would, he said, have sent me either to Cambridge or Oxford but for the fact that the Trewinion heir was forbidden by the laws of the family to leave the house for six months together. In my case it did not matter so much, as Mr. Polperrow had given me all the advantages of his University education; and as I was not to be a man of letters like my brother Wilfred, I had all the learning that was necessary for filling the position of Squire of Trewinion Manor.

I was thinking of these things when my brother Wilfred came to me on to the headland.

"It's fine to be you, Roger," he said.

"Why, Wilfred?"

"Because your cares are over. Your life will be one long holiday, you will have everything you need, and will be the most important man in the country side."

"Yes," I said, "and you, Wilfred, will be a great scholar. You will be a clergyman and write books. Your name will live long after I am dead and forgotten."

"It is false," he said. "My prospects are of the dreariest nature.

You will give me the living of Trewinion when Mr. Polperrow dies, and I shall drone out my life on your bounty. Ah! The thought makes me mad."

"No, don't say that, Wilfred," I replied, "you will inherit the vicarage as your right, while you know that everything I can give you I shall. Besides, I cannot help being the eldest."

"No, no, you can help nothing, Roger; but there, although I shall be 'Wilfred, the penniless' I shall go to Oxford, and perhaps something will turn up there for me."

"And even if nothing does turn up, Wilfred, and you have to bury your talents down here, we shall still be brothers, and we shall still have each other."

I said this because my heart was very tender towards him. I felt sad that I should have so much and he so little; but he only looked curiously at me, and a strange light played in his eyes.

He left me for a minute, and, walking to the very edge of the cliff, stood watching the waves; then he came back to me again and I thought his sadness was gone.

"What a long time since we've wrestled, Roger," he said; "let's have a hitch now."

Wrestling was then, as it is to-day, the favourite sport of Cornish youths; so I gladly took off my coat, and we began our fun. I soon saw, however, that Wilfred did not regard it as fun. He strained every muscle of his body in order to throw me, until I had to put forth my whole strength. Although I was stronger and heavier than he I had not much advantage. He was so supple and knew so many clever tricks that he was constantly in fair way of obtaining the mastery.