Part 26 (1/2)
By the time I got there it was broad day, I think about five o'clock, and wistfully I scanned the coast. Yes, there was Trewinion clear and plain, although miles away. The grey, rugged walls stood out distinctly and striking, while the tower lifted its head proudly into the sky. And this home I had given up. Back from it stretched broad acres that were mine, and these I had renounced for a woman.
”Treat her well, Wilfred, or by the Creator of us both you shall curse the day on which you were born.”
I muttered this between my closed teeth, for at that moment I knew I hated him.
Then I remembered the Trewinion's curse.
Do I believe in supernatural agencies, in witchcraft? Am I prey to superst.i.tious fancies? I cannot answer. The unseen world is so linked with the seen that they are but one world. I cannot tell where to draw the line between natural and supernatural. To me the two are one. But this I know; the moment I realised that I hated Wilfred, I was cursed with a terrible curse. Evil pa.s.sions surged within me, I planned dark deeds, murder did not seem hateful, and h.e.l.l far worse than that which I had felt when I had been struggling on the cliff was now my doom.
A bottomless pit! I was in it. A pit of slavery to evil desire, of savage joy which was not joy, at the thought of evil. This was where I was.
He, the miserable sneak, had robbed me of my love, my all. And yet I could not go back. The house was mine, the lands were mine, yet I could not claim them. I was bound, yet I could not see the fetters which chained me.
Does a curse like unto mine follow the footsteps of men who hate, or does the Trewinion race stand alone. Be that as it may, I felt cursed, the clear fountains of my manhood were gone. Roger Trewinion was more demon than man. For hatred poisons the soul.
And yet I loved Ruth. This, I think, was the power that kept me from going back and doing evil, and yet this love did not make me hate the less. Nay, it made hatred more intense.
Long I stood alone in the grey morning, watching the bleak house that stood in the distance, while the sea moaned and sobbed miserably, as if to add another feeling to the misery of my heart. I seemed riveted there. I looked at the five p.r.o.ngs of the ”Devil's Tooth” like one entranced, and thought of their a.s.sociations. I saw the place where I had saved Ruth, when she had fallen from the cliffs. I fancied I detected the place where the witches' cave stood, and I remembered all that had been said.
”Ah,” I cried, ”Deborah Teague is indeed a true prophet. Dark omens have a meaning. I am indeed homeless, friendless, forsaken, and the Trewinion curse is come. I go now, never to return, while my love is given to another, and my power is taken by my younger brother. Yet seemingly I have done nothing to merit this.”
For a time I was mad. I shook my fist and called down curses upon Wilfred and my mother. I prayed that they should never have rest or joy, and that the ghost of my father should haunt them. And yet I could give no real reason for this, only that my heart was black.
I felt I must go on. I must get farther away from the place where my life had been spent; so I gave one look more, one long hungering look that was full of agony, and as at last I turned my eyes away, my heart strings seemed to snap.
Then I set my teeth together, clasped my stick firmly, and, with lowering brow and a black heart, trudged wearily northward.
CHAPTER XIII
A WANDERER
I went on heedlessly for a mile or so. I was stunned, and felt strange and giddy; but by and by I felt I must come to such decision in regard to my course. So I struck into the main road, and continued my journey northward. By this time I felt the warmth and brightness of the day.
The sun was now clear of the horizon, and revealed the glittering dewdrops that hung on gra.s.s and flower. The majestic hills rose on either side of me, the waving cornfields presented a rich and beautiful appearance.
The glories of nature did not soften me, however. My heart was still hard with hatred and disappointment, and I was too busy with my sad thoughts to decide what to do, or to what town to steer.
Presently a man met me, the first I had seen since I started. He was a farm labourer, taking his oxen to the fields to plough, and on looking at my watch I found that I had been walking for about six hours, and that I must be at least twenty miles from home. The man touched his hat, although I was sure he did not know me. Evidently my dress was not that of a workman. If I was to get a place as a workman, I must dress like one.
”Where does this road lead to?” I asked of the man.
”Dun knaw, zur, I'm sure, but they do zay as 'ow it do go to Waadbrudge.”
”Wadebridge, eh? Do you know how far it is away?”
”No, zur, I doan't, for I never bin more'n vive mile away from Treloggas, which is my home, zur, but my maaster es a bit of a traveller, zur. He've bin to Bodmun, and he do zay as 'ow Waadbrudge es fifteen mile on.”
”Fifteen miles. Is it a good road?”
”Oi, iss, zur. You do git into the turnpike dreckly (directly), and then the roads sa smoove as a booard.”