II
Will and I finished our tour around the Cornish coast, and then I came back to London, and made arrangements for the publication of the manuscript which had been given to me for that purpose.
I had re-written all that was necessary, and had corrected the last proof sheets from the printers, when I recollected that we were near the date on which I had promised to go to Trewinion Manor. I must confess that, sitting in my rooms in London, weary with the amount of work I had done, the thought of spending a few days among the scenes in which I had been led to take so much interest, was very fascinating to me, and I eagerly began to make preparations for going.
Two days before the time for starting, I received the following letter;—
"DEAR ——, I must ask you to delay your visit a little while—how long I hardly know—yet. I have received information, which has every evidence of being true, that my son is not dead. I have no time to go into details now, but I pray God, ay, I even hope, that there is yet happiness in store for me. Indeed, I feel like saying, with one of my ancestors of whom you have read, 'There is no curse, God is love!' Yet, I am naturally terribly anxious, and I leave Trewinion to-day to verify the information, and please God to bring home my son! The very thought is Heaven! Ah, dear God, may it be so!
"I will let you know all later on, for I have come to feel that you are my friend, and if—if all is well, I will give you such a welcome as man never had before.
"I shall be doubly glad to see the 'confessions' printed, if my hopes are realised.
"Anxiously, yet hopefully.
"ROGER TREWINION."
I have finished my work. I have told how I came by the strange history here given, and, without sacrificing altogether the quaint and characteristic Cornish vernacular, I have endeavoured to tell the tale in homely English, and, as far as possible, in the spirit of the time in which the events herein narrated passed.
Of the final outcome of the matter mentioned in the letter just quoted, it is not for me to say anything now. It may be that at some future time I shall have an opportunity of following still further the fortunes of the Trewinion family; but, in laying aside my pen for the present, I must express my feelings of thankfulness that hope had dawned in the sky of the lonely man whom I met in the old house on the cliff.
THE END OF EPILOGUE