Part 43 (1/2)

”Ruth,” I said, ”it is your Roger who asks you, may I kiss you?”

A faint smile came into her face, something like the smile I had seen in the olden days.

”Dare you kiss me in my shroud, Roger?” she said.

Even then she could not repress the quaint, quiet humour I had loved years before.

Dare I! I covered her face with kisses, and as I did so I forgot everything, forgot all I had done, forgot where I was. I 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 you going to do with me, Roger?” she said.

”I am going to carry you home,” I said.

”Home! Home where?”

”Home to Morton Hall.”

”Can you?” she said. ”It is a long way.

”Can I?” I said with a laugh.

She looked at me as though she gloried in my strength, and was glad she could trust herself to me.

I carried her down the silent church; but no longer did my lantern throw weird shadows on 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 I was to do with them.

The old s.e.xton would lose his senses if he were to see the precious burden I bore. I locked the great door and took her out into the silent night.

I 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 so to Ruth. I do 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, no pain, no sorrow. The gravestones told me no sad stories, the shadows of the trees were only beautiful pictures painted on the green gra.s.s.

When I came to the churchyard gate I saw the old s.e.xton.

”What have 'ee got there?” he gasped.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'What have 'ee got there?' he gasped.”]

”Take your keys and lantern,” I said.

He took them both mechanically, and then looked at Ruth awestruck.

”Where did 'ee take et from?” he said, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

”Her grave,” I said.