ave blackened lives and terrible deaths.

What is that? It is Ruth asking me if my work is not almost done, and
I answer, "Yes, I have almost done." And as I answer, I look up from
my paper and see my dear one who has been with me for long years, ever
my comforter, my counsellor, and joy. She has lost the fresh bloom of
her womanhood, but to me she was never so beautiful as now. Never did
I think that such a pure soul could exist on earth, or that a woman
could be so brave in difficulty, so hopeful in sorrow, so comforting in
the hours of darkness.

I look forward with hope and joy. Let the lamp of life burn dimmer and
dimmer, I fear not. Ruth will be near me, and her presence will make
me strong. But a few more years, and Ruth and I must enter the dark
valley from which we shall never return, but she will be by my side,
and in her dear presence, I am full of hope.

THE END OF ROGER TREWINION'S CONFESSION.

EPILOGUE

I

Thus finished the story, a story of sin, and sorrow, and of a curse. I
must confess that when I laid it aside the life of Roger Trewinion had
become very real to me, and for a long time I sat thinking over the
events which were related. Everything was more vivid to me, for I had
for days past been living in the atmosphere of superstition, and
speaking to people who still believe in many of the things about which
Roger Trewinion spoke. Moreover, I had seen the old house, I had
realised the rugged grandeur of the rock-bound coast, I had let my
imagination brood over the great mass of rocks which are called the
"Devil's Tooth." In spite of myself, too, I began to be influenced by
the story of the "curse," which, although not clearly explained, was
fearfully spoken about. Yet I could not see why a man like the present
Roger Trewinion should allow himself to become a misanthrope because of
it. Perhaps succeeding events had led him to shun society; but
whatever may have been the explanation of his attitude, I longed to
know more about himself and his family, and before I went to sleep I
made up my mind that I would go back to Trewinion Manor and see whether
the "Trewinion curse" had manifested itself since the time the
grandfather of the present squire wrote his confessions.

It was midday, when I left my apartment, and, on entering the reading
room of the hotel, I found my friend Will just on the point of sending
to see if anything had happened to me.

"Well, have you read the