"Why should I be the last of my race?" he repeated—"ah, man, you do not know."
"I know that you could wed some pure-minded woman who would drive thoughts of the curse away, even such a one as your grandmother, the Ruth whom I read of in the confessions."
"And do you think I could marry? Let me tell you. When I was about five and twenty I determined that I would not succumb to dark feelings. I went into society, and I fell in love with an angel. Ay, she was an angel, and it is she who makes me believe there is a heaven, for I am sure such a soul as hers could never die. Well, my love was returned, and I laughed at all thoughts of the curse, and soon I was wedded to my darling. For three years I was in Heaven. My life was full of joy and gladness, and Alice was as happy as I. But at the end of that time every hope was dashed to the ground, every joy was stamped out of my life. And why? I have not spoken of this for many a long year, but I feel a relief in being able to speak about it now. A year after we were married, a baby was born to us, a bright, bonny boy, and we called him Roger, the old family name. My joy knew no bounds, and I breathed defiance against my enemies. How could there be a curse, I said, when God had given us such a boy? Ah, how we loved him, Alice and I, how we watched him as, day by day, he grew in strength of body and mind! A year passed by and all was well, still another passed and nothing seemed to darken our sky. Our boy was now two years old, and was strong and healthy, while my wife and I looked forward to long years of happiness.
"But the curse had been laid upon my race, and it crept upon us like a crawling poisonous serpent. Just after our boy's holiday he was missing. We searched for him high and low, we scoured the country side, but we never saw him alive again."
"What became of him?" I asked anxiously.
"A week after we missed him some fishermen discovered the body of a child, bruised and beaten beyond recognition, but still wearing clothes similar to those worn by our boy. And thus we concluded, that he must have strayed and fallen over the cliff."
I felt it useless to speak. Words, I knew, would only add to the suffering caused by the awakening of these bitter memories.
"It broke our hearts," he continued, hoarsely, after a minute's silence. "Soon I saw that grief was killing my wife. God only knows how I prayed for her. I consulted all the best physicians; but it was no use, in three months sorrow killed her, and—I was left alone."
He laid his head on the table, while sobs shook his mighty frame, and for minutes he did not speak. Mastering himself at length, he continued, more calmly.
"Then I shut myself up here. I dismissed all the servants save the two you have seen, and have for years refused to mix with my fellows. I grew churlish and bitter. I talked strangely, until stories were circulated about me, wild and foolish, of course, but still making me become more a misanthrope than ever. Why I gave you admittance yesterday I do not know, but acting on sudden impulse I did so, and then was led to allow you to see those confessions, and still further to relate my story. Now do you believe in the curse? Now do you believe that, remorseless as fate, it is dogging me, and will dog me, until, mad with despair, and taunted by powers of darkness, I go away into darkness?"