"I doubted him, Humphrey. I felt sure there was some strange mystery, but how could I find it out? And what could be done--they could not drag Scarborough Bay for your body. Humphrey, did Jasper play some trick upon you--did he get you out of the way?"

"He did, Rose. Yea, he got me out of the way so well that I have been right round the world since last I set foot in Beechcot. Think of that, my dear. Right round the world! I have seen Mexico and the Pacific and Java and the Celebes and Africa, and I know not what, and here I am again."

"But you have suffered, Humphrey? Where--and how?"

So I told her very briefly of what had happened to me in the cells of the Inquisition, and as I spoke, her sweet face was filled with compa.s.sion and her eyes were bright with tears, and she held my hands tightly clasped in her own as if she would never let them go again.

"Can such things be?" she asked. "Oh, why G.o.d does allow them I cannot understand. My poor Humphrey!"

"Naught but G.o.d's help could have brought us through them, dear heart,"

I answered. "And, indeed, I think naught of them now, and would cheerfully face them again if I thought they would cause you to love me more."

But she answered that that was impossible, and scolded me very prettily for thinking of such a thing.

And then came Master Timotheus back from reading prayers, and entered the parlor, carrying a great folio in his hand and blinking at us through his big spectacles. And when he saw me, he stopped and stared.

"Here is a visitor, father," said Rose. "Look closely at him--do you not know him?"

But the good man, taking my hand in his own, did stare at me hard and long ere he discovered me, and then he fell upon my neck and embraced me heartily and wept with joy.

"Of a truth," said he, "I might have known that it was thee, Humphrey, for two reasons. First, I have been of an uncommonly light-hearted nature all this day, and did once detect myself in the act of singing a merry song; and secondly, I saw on entering the parlor that Rose's face was brighter than it hath been since last we saw thee."

Then he laid his hand on my head and blessed me, and thanked G.o.d for sending me home again; and he shed more tears, and was fain to take off his spectacles and polish them anew. And he would have had me sup with them, but on hearing that I had not yet seen my uncle he bade me go to him at once, so I said farewell for that time and took my way to the manor.

CHAPTER XXI.

HOW THEY RANG THE BELLS AT BEECHCOT CHURCH.

As I walked across from the vicarage to the manor house, the moon came out in the autumn evening sky and lighted the landscape with a brightness that was little short of daylight. I stood for a few moments at the vicarage gate admiring the prospect. Far away to the eastward rose the Wolds, dark and unbroken, different indeed from the giant bulk of Orizaba, but far more beautiful to me. Beneath them lay the village of Beechcot, with its farmsteads and cottages casting black shadows upon the moonlit meadow, and here and there a rushlight burning dimly in the windows. I had kept that scene in my mind's eye many a time during my recent tribulations, and had wondered if ever I should see it again.

Now that I did see it, it was far more beautiful than I had ever known it or imagined it to be, for it meant home, and love, and peace after much sorrow.

My path led me through the churchyard. There the moonlight fell bright and clear on the silent mounds and ghostly tombstones. By the chancel I paused for a moment to glance at the monument which Sir Thurstan had long since erected to my father and mother's memory. It was light enough to read the inscription, and also to see that a new one had been added to it. Wondering what member of our family was dead, I went nearer and examined the stone more carefully. Then I saw that the new inscription was in memory of myself!

I have never heard of a man reading his own epitaph, and truly it gave me many curious feelings to stand there and read of myself as a dead man. And yet I had been dead to all of them for more than two years.

"And of Humphrey Salkeld, only son of the above Richard Salkeld and his wife Barbara, who was drowned at Scarborough, October, 1578, to the great grief and sorrow of his uncle, Thurstan Salkeld, Knight."

"So I am dead and yet alive," I said, and laughed gayly at the notion.

"If that is so, there are some great surprises in store for more than one in this parish. And no one will be more surprised than my worthy cousin, but he will be the only person that is sorry to see me. Oh, for half an hour with him alone!"

At that very moment Jasper was coming to meet me. I knew it not, nor did he.

Between the churchyard and the manor-house of Beechcot there is a field called the Duke's Garth, and across this runs a foot-path. As I turned away from reading my own epitaph, I saw a figure advancing along this path and making for the churchyard. It was the figure of a man, and he was singing some catch or song softly to himself. I recognized the voice at once. It was Jasper's. I drew back into the shadow cast by the b.u.t.tress of the chancel and waited his coming. We were going to settle our account once and forever.

He came lightly over the stile which separates the garth from the churchyard, and was making rapid strides towards the vicarage when I stopped him.

"Jasper," I said, speaking in a deep voice and concealing myself in the shadow. "Jasper Stapleton."

He stopped instantly, and stood looking intently towards where I stood.

"Who calls me?" he said.

"I, Jasper,--thy cousin, Humphrey Salkeld."

I could have sworn that he started and began to tremble. But suddenly he laughed.

"Dead men call n.o.body," said he. "You are some fool that is trying to frighten me. Come out, sirrah!"

And he drew near. I waited till he was close by, and then I stepped into the moonlight, which fell full and clear on my face. He gave a great cry, and lifting up his arm as if to ward off a blow fell back a pace or two and stood staring at me.

"Humphrey!" he cried.

"None other, cousin. The dead, you see, sometimes come to life again.

And I am very much alive, Jasper."

He stood still staring at me, and clutching his heart as if his breath came with difficulty.

"What have you to say, Jasper?" I asked at length.

"We--we thought you were drowned," he gasped out. "There is an inscription on your father's tombstone."

"Liar!" I said. "You know I was not drowned. You know that you contrived that I should be carried to Mexico. Tell me no more lies, cousin. Let us for once have the plain truth. Why did you treat me as you did at Scarborough?"

"Because you stood 'twixt me and the inheritance," he muttered sullenly.

"And so for the sake of a few acres of land and a goodly heritage you would condemn one who had never harmed you to horrors such as you cannot imagine?" I said. "Look at me, Jasper. Even in this light it is not difficult to see how I am changed. I have gone through such woes and torments as you would scarcely credit. I have been in the hands of devils in human shape, and they have so worked their will upon me that there is hardly an inch of my body that is not marked and scarred. That was thy doing, Jasper,--thine and thy fellow-villain's. Dost know what happened to him?"

"No," he whispered, "what of him?"

"I saw him hanged to his own yard-arm in the Pacific Ocean, Jasper, and he went to his own place with the lives of many an innocent man upon his black soul. Take care you do not follow him. Shame upon you, cousin, for the trick you played me!"

"You came between me and the girl I loved," he said fiercely. "All is fair in love and war."

"Coward!" I said. "And liar, too! I never came between her and thee, for she had never a word to give such a black-hearted villain as thou hast proved thyself. And now, what is to prevent me from taking my revenge upon thee, Jasper?"

"This," he said, very suddenly, whipping out his rapier. "This, Master Humphrey. Home you have come again, worse luck, and have no doubt done your best to injure me in more quarters than one, but you shall not live to enjoy either land, or t.i.tle, or sweetheart, for you shall die here and now."

And with that he came pressing upon me with a sudden fury that was full of murderous intent.

Now I had no weapon by me save a stout cudgel which I had cut from a coppice by the wayside that morning, and this you would think was naught when set against a rapier. Nevertheless I made such play with it, that presently I knocked Jasper's weapon clean out of his hand so that he could not recover it. And after that I seized him by the throat and beat with my cudgel until he roared and begged for mercy, beseeching me not to kill him.

"Have no fear, cousin," said I, still laying on to him, "I will not kill thee, for I would have thee repent of all thy misdeeds."