I have now told how I came by these confessions of Roger Trewinion, so I need write little more concerning them.
Let it be understood, however, that my only share in the story is that of editor and reviser. Much of it had to be re-written and much of the dialect transposed into ordinary English. Still, the history stands practically as I found it, and, wherever I have re-written or revised, I have endeavoured to retain the spirit in which Roger Trewinion originally wrote.
Of the belief and deeds of the writer, I may have a few words to say by and bye; but my only duty at present is to lay before you the history he wrote at a time when strange deeds were done in this western county, and when its people were influenced and bound by strange and sometimes cruel superstitions.
THE END OF PROLOGUE.
CHAPTER I
THE PROPHETIC WARNING
"And the boys grew, and Esau was a cunning hunter, a man of the field; and Jacob was a plain man, dwelling in tents. And Isaac loved Esau; but Rebekah loved Jacob."
What I, Roger Trewinion, am about to write is true. I tell what I have seen, and heard, and have been.
I was born in the year of our Lord, 1750. I am now sixty years of age.
My family is an ancient one; not that I boast of it, for families reckon as little when the terrible realities of life press heavily upon us. Still, in mentioning the fact that my family is ancient and honourable, I do not do so without a purpose. Events will show that it matters not much what name we bear if the man within us be not strong to resist temptation.
Our family included, besides myself, one son and two daughters. The son, my brother, was called Wilfred, my two sisters, Katherine and Elizabeth. I am the elder son, and am called Roger after my father. Wilfred was born two years after me. Katherine and Elizabeth were respectively four and six years younger than myself.
People always said I was a true son of my father. From my childhood I was big, strong, and daring. I must add, too, that I was passionate and revengeful. My brother was neither so tall nor so daring as I; but he was, nevertheless, exceedingly strong and wiry, and although, being the older, I was the stronger of the two, I often had difficulty in proving myself the master. Especially was this seen when we used to wrestle on the soft, spongy grass that grows on the headland. I could lift him from the ground and throw him over my head, such was my advantage in weight and strength. Yet so cunning was he, and so agile, that he would cling around me, and twine his limbs around mine, so that I had to be very careful or I should have been disgraced by being thrown.
Our dispositions, too, were different. I was noisy, boisterous, passionate and outspoken. Wilfred was quiet and thoughtful. I often did deeds without thinking; but not so Wilfred; he weighed and considered both his words and actions. Consequently I was ever getting into scrapes, but Wilfred seldom or never.
I was my father's favourite. I was a sturdy young dog, he said, just like the rest of the Trewinion race, and would be an honour to my name. Wilfred, on the other hand, received but little notice from my father, but was the darling of my mother's heart. My father saw little or no fault in me and saw plenty in Wilfred. My mother saw only perfection in Wilfred and only imperfections in me. This, I am afraid, raised a barrier between my mother and my father, for which I was then, and am now, truly sorry.
In spite of these differences I loved Wilfred very much. Was he not my brother? were we not born in the same room? did not the same mother suckle us? and did we not both bear the name of Trewinion? Wilfred, however, did not love me so much. I think it was because he was a little jealous of me. The jealousy came about in this way.
Maidens love strength and daring; and as I was able to do for my sisters many thing which Wilfred was unable to do—such as scaling the cliffs for rare plants, getting precious stones, and so forth—I was more beloved by them than Wilfred was. Thus, as he saw Katherine and Elizabeth ever clinging to me, and avoiding him, he would look darkly at me, and go with his sorrows to our mother, who, in her kindness of heart, would give him comfort and sometimes indulgences which I do not think were always good for him.
Still, we were fairly good friends, and sometimes after I had fought a boy for teasing him, we would be quite happy together.
I am writing these things now because I think they have a bearing on some of the events that happened in my after life.
We were educated at the vicarage of Trewinion by the vicar, the Rev. Thomas Polperrow. The living of Trewinion was only worth about £100 per annum, and so Mr. Polperrow was glad to augment his salary by taking pupils. There were eight boys besides ourselves, who came from places some three or four miles around; so we were able to have right merry times together.
I was not a very good scholar. I found it difficult to apply myself to any task; Wilfred, on the other hand, was the best pupil the vicar had. At twelve years of age he was quite a Latin scholar and was great at Euclid, and mathematics generally. This was exactly as it ought to be, my father said, for Wilfred was to be a clergyman, and when Mr. Polperrow died could be installed into the living. But although Wilfred had the advantage as far as scholarship went, I had the advantage of him in other ways. To save my life I could not conjugate a Latin verb; but I knew every creek and cove on our rockbound coast; and had gone into every cave that honeycombed the cliffs. This was considered exceedingly daring on my part, by those who believed, as many did, that these caves were the nocturnal homes of witches and dark spirits of the dead. It was true that I did not go after dark, for the sobbing waters of the sea wailed and made terrible noises as they swept into the caves at night time, and it was then that I used to hear strange cries as I stood on the top of the cliffs and listened.
I had no doubt then, nor do I doubt now, that spirits from the invisible world do appear in such places, and what I have to relate will fully bear out my belief. Mr. Polperrow, the vicar, has proved on many occasions that the belief in spirits appearing on earth is scriptural.
I had reached the age of fifteen when my father came to me as I rambled about the great headland on which our house is built.
"This is your birthday, Roger," he said.
"Yes, father," I replied. "Thank you for the new pony. I have just ridden over to Rosecarrow to see Tom Tremain. He goes like the wind."
"Ay, I saw you ride away. You have a firm seat, Roger. I am glad to see you ride so well."
"Well, I ought to ride well, father, for you taught me," I replied.
"Let's see, you are fifteen to-day, Roger, are you not?"
"Yes, fifteen to-day."
"What a big lad you are. What weight are you?"
"Nearly eight score pounds, father," I replied.
"So much, eh? Well, well, the Trewinions are a big race. I weighed as much when I was your age."
"And see what a big man you are now."
My father did not reply for a minute; then he said slowly—
"Roger, my boy, when I was fifteen my father took me into the library and read to me something which closely affected my welfare. There is no knowing how long I may live, and I think that what was read to me then should be read to you now, for it applies to all the Trewinion heirs. Come with me."