Armorel of Lyonesse

hen Dorcas and Justinian came in-the two old serving-folk, bent with age, grey-headed, toothless-followed by Chessun-thin and tall, silent and subdued. And Ar

eak,"' said

as not rambling: she did not begin one fragment of reminiscence and break off in the middle. She started with a clear story in her mind, which she began at the beginnin

ock o' Monday,"

eem to warrant. The old lady, however, seemed to like it, and continued her narrative without interrupting it at any point.

re covered already with wreck. But not a sign of passengers or crew. Then my husband's father, who was always first, saw something, and ran into the water up to his middle and dragged ashore a spar. And, sure enough, a man was lashed to the spar. When father hauled the man up, he was quite senseless, and he seemed dead, so that another quarter of an hour would have finished him, even if his head had not been knocked against a rock, or the spar turned over and drowned him. Just as father was going to call for help to drag him up, he saw a little leather

' But his voice died away, and Roland was left to wonder what

s very house-and laid him down before the fire-just at your feet, Armorel-and I was standing by. "Get him a cordial," says father. So

, and she seemed to b

and fateful, the Saraband, played in a proper frame of mind, may prove sympathetic. The ancient lady lifted her head, strengthened by the opening bars, which, indeed, are very strong, and resumed her story. Armorel, to be sure, and all her hearers, knew the history well, having heard it every night in disjointed bits. The Tale of the Stolen Treasure was fa

ted. Then the man opened his eyes and tried to sit up; but he couldn't, being still dizzy with the beating of the waves. But he looked at us, wondering where he was. "You are ashore, Master," said father. "The only one of all the ship's company that is, so far." "Ashore?" he asked. "Ay, ashore: where else would you be? Your ship's i

had been in the service of an Indian King; and, though he was only thirty, he had made his fortune and was bringing it home, thinking that he would do nothing more all his life but just sit down and enjoy himself. All his fortune was in the bag. When he recovered he told me that the last thing he remembered, before he was washed off the ship, was

n; but Armorel stimulated her again, and she went on, looking mo

hen he could keep the treasure with a quiet mind. "All's ours that comes ashore," that's what we use

t the man got better, and at last quite well, and one morning he came down dressed in clothes that father lent him, because his own were ruined in the washing of him ashore, and he bade us all farewell. "Captain Rosevean," he said, very earnestly, "when I left India I was rich: I was carrying all

you least expect me." So he went away, and they rowed him over to the Port, and he sailed to Penzance. Father went to his own room, where the treasure was. And my heart sank heavy as lead. The more I thought of the wickedness, the heavier fell my heart. There was father and his son, my husband, and myself and my own son not yet born. T

er came again as he promised. And at last, at last'-her voice rose almost to a shriek, and everybody jumped in his chair; but Armorel continued to play the Saraband slowly and with much expression-'at last he has come back, and we are saved. All that are l

ulous voice, 'you are welcome. Late though it is, Mr. Fletcher, you are welcome. When you came a day or two ago I wondered, being now very old and foolish, if it was really you. Now I know. I remember, though it is nearly eighty years ago. You are welcome again to Samson, Mr. Fletcher. You find me changed, no doubt. I knew you would keep your promise and come again, some time or other. As for you, I see little change. You are dressed differently, and when you were here last you

whispered to Chessun, shuddering

allid cheeks. 'It isn't in nature. He looks no m

her,' whispered Armorel. 'Do no

y promise much sooner. And as for that bag-you saved my lif

m the possession of the bag, cannot believe that you have forgotten it, because if we have suffered for our guilt you must have suffered through

d on open-mouthed: the women with terror undisguised. Was this gentleman, so young and so pleasant, none other than the man whose injury had brought all these drownings u

it so long I had quite abandoned all hope of finding it again. I assure you that I have not come here in s

e good use of it, Sir, and do not forget the poor. I have counted the contents again and again. They are not things that wear out and rust, are th

indeed,' he echoed, 'to

d cease at last-cease at last! I must tell you, Mr. Fletcher,' she went on, 'that when my husband was drowned and my father-in-law died, I took possession of the bag and everything else. I said nothing to my son. Why? Because, until the owner of the stolen bag came back, the curse was

returned fifty years ago and mor

have saved some.' It was wonderful how erect the old lady h

shall have your bag again. Once more you are our guest: this time,

ing. She looked round: her eyes lost their fire: her face its expression:

, and shambled out. Armorel pushed the table into its place, and lit the candles

letcher. Shall I to-morrow morning ask her for the bag? Where is

he ship and company-captain, officers, crew, and passengers-the only one. He was rescued by Captain Rosevean himself and brought here. He

the

y people made by smuggling and by piloting. I have seen her watching you for some days past

ate evening. The family luck has come back-I have brought it back. The Ancient one said so, and you are saved. She may call