When Ruth and I were again alone in the library, she asked me to relate all that had passed since I had left her on that terrible night.
Then I told her of the scene at my home on the night before, of Wilfred's avowal of hatred, and then of what had happened in the morning, and of Bill Tregargus's news. I described the journey to the Hall, and my inquiries of the servant, and at the cottage where I had been directed.
"He told me you were dead," she said hoarsely.
"I heard him," I answered.
"I did not believe him," she went on; "I could not, something told me even then that you were near me, and so I was not afraid—but oh, I shudder at it now."
"Thank God I was in time," I said; "and yet I cannot think he would have dared to do what he threatened."
"I do not know, Roger; I dare not think of it; but what passed between you after you came here?"
Then I told her all, told her of the curse which was said to belong to our race, and related how Wilfred had sworn that if it could reach me I should never know happiness.
"Do you think it is true," I said, at length; "or do you think these stories are only vague rumours and idle tales?"
"I cannot say," she answered. "Your mother told me many wild stories when I used to live at Trewinion Manor, and I thought they were true."