CHAPTER VII "I AM TOLD"

"Maester Hugh!"

I had been leaning against a tree on the lawn, afraid to enter the house, yet knowing that there was nothing else for me to do. At the sound of a voice close to my elbow I turned quickly round, and found myself face to face with our solitary man-servant, a raw country yokel with the garb and manners of a ploughboy.

"Maester Hugh, dost thee want t' master?"

"Ay, William, have you seen him?" I cried.

"That I have, Maester Hugh, and it zeemed to me that he had gone off 'is chump like. He coom down the lane 'bait quater of an hour ago, and insteat o' cooming t' house, blamed if he didna turn in at Varmer Zmith's gate, and be a gone up theer," and the boy pointed to the dark outline of the headland which towered up above us.

I sprang away from him, over the low wall, and up the steep winding path, with a reckless speed which frightened William out of the very few wits with which nature had endowed him, and bereft him of all words. I had but one idea, to get to the top as quickly as possible, and but one hope, that I might find him there when I arrived. I was a trained climber, and I did that night what I had never done before—I forsook the path and clambered right up the precipitous side of the hill, helping myself with hands and feet, heedless that a slip must cost me my life, and between my short, quick gasps for breath faltering out a prayer that I might be in time.

It was granted. As I reached the last ridge, and swung myself on to the summit, grasping with my bleeding hands a friendly heather bush, I saw my father kneeling on the ground close to the edge of the cliff, with his coat and hat thrown on one side, and his arms stretched out to the sea. In a moment I was beside him, and as my hand descended on his shoulder and closed upon him with a firm grasp, I drew a long sigh of relief.

"Father, what does all this mean?" I cried. "What are you doing here? Thank God that I have found you!"

He started as though he were shot, and tried to shrink away from me. But I would have none of it. I dropped on my knees by his side, and locked my arm in his.

"Father, tell me all about it," I pleaded. "Something terrible happened a long while ago, and that man who was there to-night knew about it. Am I not right? Tell me all about it; I am not afraid to hear."

He shivered from head to foot, and his face looked ghastly cold. I reached out my hand for his coat, and made him put it on.

"Hugh, my poor boy, I had meant to tell you this, but I never dreamt that this would come. I thought that I was safe here—away from every one."

"Let me know it," I begged.

"Ay, listen. When I was not much older than you are, I entered the army."

I could not keep back the exclamation which rose to my lips. Had I not always thought that he had been a soldier?

"At my first battle I unwisely deserted my post to save the life of the man whom we saw on Exmoor last night, and whose servant was at the meeting this evening. After the fighting was over I was charged with running away. I thought lightly of it, and appealed at once to the man whose life I had saved to come forward and clear me. He came forward with his servant, but, to my horror, they both deliberately perjured themselves. They swore that they had only seen me running away, and I was found guilty, guilty of cowardice—was cashiered, ruined disgraced for life, and, but for your mother, I should have killed myself."

The tears were swimming in my eyes, and I tightened my grasp upon his arm.

"Father, why did he do it?"

He sprang to his feet, his eyes ablaze with fury and his voice shaking—

"That he might oust me from my home and my father's heart—the cur—and take my position. We were half-brothers, and I was the elder. My father loved me and cared little for Rupert. He was jealous,—ah! I can see it all now,—and seized this opportunity of ruining me and getting rid of me for ever. He succeeded. Every one believed me guilty. My father turned me out of the house, bade me change my name, and forget that I was a—one of a noble family. From, that day to this I have never looked upon his face or seen my old home. Your mother alone believed in me, refused to desert me, and, but for that, I must have died. Oh, God, it has been cruel!"

He covered his face with his hands, and great sobs burst from him. My heart was beating with a passionate pity, but I could not tell how to comfort him.

"Father, you know that I do not believe this thing," I cried. "Tell me the name of the man who has sworn to this wicked lie."

"The same as your own and mine. Devereux. Rupert Devereux. Curse him! On his head be the sin of this thing, if sin there be! Good-bye, my boy; good-bye, Hugh!"

He had made a sudden movement to the edge of the cliff, and it was only by a stupendous effort that I caught hold of him in time.

"Father, what would you do?" I cried. "Are you mad?"

I caught hold of him by the waist, and dragged him back from his perilous position. He submitted without protesting—without speech of any sort. Looking into his face a great fear came upon me. Were my words prophetic, and was he indeed going mad? There was a dreamy, far-away look in his glazed eyes, a look which frightened me more than a wilder one would have done, and his face was like the face of a corpse. Then, with a deep groan, his knees would have given way from under him, but that I still held him up. He was unconscious.