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 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.