y centre, and in spite of all my hardships and
buffetings I sobbed like a child.

I was surprised that no signs of life appeared. I looked at the fields
and saw not a single soul. I looked at the little cove. A few boats
were rocking idly on the waters, but no human being was near. Was the
place deserted? Then I began to think. The day of the week was
Monday, and it was the third Monday in September. Yes, that was the
feast day of Trewinion parish. Yesterday the parish church would be
crowded; to-day the parishioners would meet at the Churchtown, where
there would be great festivities. It was a general holiday for the
whole parish, and the people had congregated on the village green over
by the church.

Still, I expected a few servants would be at home, and mother, and,
perchance, Wilfred. He would never mix with the rowdy villagers, as he
called them, and would probably be in the library following some
favourite literary pursuit. What should I do? Go home and proclaim
myself as Roger Trewinion, owner and master of everything? No, I did
not like to do that--yet I must know how things stood. I must know
about everything, where Ruth was, and what position she held!

And still I stood gazing on the old house on the cliff until I saw a
man come out and slowly saunter down the drive.

It was Wilfred.

I started to go forward and speak to him, but stopped immediately
after. Long years of foreign travel and passing through dangerous
scenes had made me careful. I knew not how I should be received, and I
must not give Wilfred the whip hand of me. No, I would find out what
had happened at home during the intervening years. I would go on to
the village green, and there, perchance, I should see those who knew me
in the past, and should give them a chance of recognising me.

Passing near the church, however, I could not resist the temptation to
enter. To an ordinary sightseer, it would doubtless possess small
attraction, but to me who accompanied my father there more than twenty
years before, and where I had received what little religious
instruction I possessed, it was of more than ordinary interest.
Besides, my father was buried beneath the altar steps, and I longed to
see the place again. Accordingly I entered the churchyard, and finding
the church door open, entered the sacred building. Instinctively I
found my way to the eastern end of the church, and there experienced
one of the strangest sensations