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
buttress 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 nobody," 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 title, 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."
And with that I gave him two or three sound cuts and then flung him from
me against the wall, where he lay groaning and cursing me.
After that I saw Jasper Stapleton no more. He never showed his face in
Beechcot again, and in a few days his mother, Dame Barbara, disappeared
also; and so they vanished out of my life, and I was glad of it, for
they had worked me much mischief.
When I reached the manor-house I let myself in by a secret way that I
knew of and went straight to the great hall, where sat my uncle, Sir
Thurstan, wrapped in cloaks and rugs, before a great fire of wood. He
was all alone, and hearing my step he half turned his head.
"Is that Jasper?" he inquired.
"Nay, sir," said I. "It is I--Humphrey--and I am come home again."
And I went forward and kneeled down before him and put my hands on his
knees.
For a moment he stared at me as men stare at ghosts, then he gave a
great sob of delight, stretched out his arms, put them about my neck,
and wept over me like a woman.
"Oh lad, lad!" said he. "If thou didst but know how this old heart did
grieve for thy sake. And thou art here, well and strong, and I did cause
thy name to be graven on thy parents' tombstone!"
"Never mind, sir," said I, "we can cut it out again. Anyway I am not
dead, but I have seen some rare and terrible adventures."
"Sit thyself down at my side," quoth he, "and tell me all about them.
Alive and well--yes, and two inches taller, as I live! Well, I thank God
humbly. But thou art hungry, poor boy,--what ho! where are those
rascals? Call for them, Humphrey,--thou must be famished."
"All in good time, sir," said I, and went over to the rope which led to
the great bell and pulled it vigorously, so that the clangor filled the
park below with stirring sound. And Geoffrey Scales, waiting impatiently
at the inn, heard it and ran round with the news, and they rang the
church bells, and every soul in Beechcot that could walk came hurrying
to the manor and would have audience of me in the great hall.
Thus did I come home again. And having told my story to my uncle, Sir
Thurstan, and to Master Timotheus Herrick, we agreed that for the
present we would leave Jasper Stapleton's name out of it. But somehow,
most likely because Jasper and his evil-tongued mother disappeared, the
truth got out, and ere long everybody knew my story from beginning to
end.
Within a few weeks of my home-coming Rose and I were married in Beechcot
church, and again the bells rang out merrily. Never had bridegroom a
sweeter bride; never had husband a truer or nobler wife. I say it after
fifty years of blessed companionship, and in my heart I thank God for
the delights which he hath given me in her.
And now I have brought my history to a close. Yet there is one matter
which I must speak of before I say farewell to you.
It is about twenty years since one of my servants came to me one
summer evening and said that an old man stood at my door waiting to
see me. I followed him presently, and there saw a tall, white-haired,
white-bearded figure, dressed in a rough seaman's dress and leaning
upon a staff. He looked at me and smiled, and then I saw that it was
Pharaoh Nanjulian.
"You have not forgotten me, master?" he said.
"Forgotten thee! May God forget me if ever I forget thee, my old, true
friend!" I said, and I led him in and made him welcome as a king to my
house and to all that I had. And with me he lived, an honored guest and
friend, for ten years longer, when he died, being then a very old man of
near one hundred years. And him I still mourn with true sorrow and
affection, for his was a mighty heart, and it had been knit to mine by
those bonds of sorrow which are scarcely less strong than the bonds of
love.
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,
every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and
intent.