Charred Wood

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Charred Wood, by Myles Muredach

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Title: Charred Wood
Author: Myles Muredach
Illustrator: J. Clinton Shepherd
Release Date: August 23, 2005 [EBook #16585]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARRED WOOD ***

Produced by Al Haines

CHARRED WOOD
BY
MYLES MUREDACH

"O, Designer Infinite, must Thou then Char the wood before Thou canst limn with it?"

ILLUSTRATED BY
J. CLINTON SHEPHERD

GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS --- NEW YORK

Made in the United States of America

Copyright, 1917
by
The Reilly & Britten Co.
Published October 17, 1917
Reprinted December 10, 1917
Reprinted October 11, 1918.

Charred Wood

CONTENTS
I THE LADY OF THE TREE II MONSIGNORE III UNDER SUSPICION IV KILLIMAGA V WITH EMPTY HANDS VI WHO IS RUTH? VII BITTER BREAD VIII FATHER MURRAY OF SIHASSET IX THE BISHOP'S CONFESSION X AT THE MYSTERY TREE XI THIN ICE XII HIS EXCELLENCY SUGGESTS XIII THE ABDUCTION XIV THE INEXPLICABLE XV "I AM NOT THE DUCHESS!" XVI HIS EXCELLENCY IS WORRIED XVII THE OPEN DOOR XVIII SAUNDERS SCORES XIX CAPITULATION XX THE "DUCHESS" ABDICATES XXI THE BECKONING HAND XXII RUTH'S CONFESSION XXIII CHARRED WOOD

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
On Killimaga's Cliff. . . . . Frontispiece
Something white swished quickly past him and he stared, bewildered . . . She had stepped out of nowhere.
Saunders looked long and earnestly at his face. "He's the man!" he announced.
"God rest her," Father Murray said after what seemed an age to Mark; "it is not Ruth!"

[Transcriber's note: The Frontispiece and the "Something white..." illustration were missing from the book.]

Charred Wood
CHAPTER I
THE LADY OF THE TREE
The man lay in the tall grass. Behind him the wall of the Killimaga estate, from its beginning some fifty yards to his left, stretched away to his right for over a thousand feet. Along the road which ran almost parallel with the wall was the remnant of what had once been a great woods; yearly the county authorities determined to cut away its thick undergrowth--and yearly left it alone. On the left the road was bare for some distance along the bluff; then, bending, it again sought the shelter of the trees and meandered along until it lost itself in the main street of Sihasset, a village large enough to support three banks and, after a fashion, eight small churches. In front, had the lounger cared to look, he would have seen the huge rocks topping the bluff against which the ocean dashed itself into angry foam. But the man didn't care to look--for in the little clearing between the wall of Killimaga and the bluff road was peace too profound to be wantonly disturbed by motion. And so he lay there lazily smoking his cigar, his long length concealed by the tall grass.
Hearing a slight click behind him and to his right, the man slowly, even languidly, turned his head to peer through the grass. But his energy was unrewarded, for he saw nothing he had not seen before--a long wall, its rough stones half hidden by creeping vines, at its base a rank growth of shrubs and wild hedge; behind it, in the near distance, the towers of a house that, in another land, perched amid jutting crags, would have inspired visions of far-off days of romance. Even in its New England setting the great house held a rugged charm, heightened by the big trees which gave it a setting of rich green. Some of the trees had daringly advanced almost to the wall itself, while one--a veritable giant--had seemingly been caught while just stepping through.
With a bored sigh, as if even so slight an effort were too great, the smoker settled himself more comfortably and resumed his indolent musing. Then he heard the sound again. This time he did not trouble to look around. Something white swished quickly past him and he stared, bewildered. It was a woman, young, if her figure were to be trusted. His cigar dropped in the grass, and there he let it lie. His gaze never left her as she walked on; and he could scarcely be blamed, for he was still under thirty-five and feminine early twenties has an interest to masculine full youth. He had never seen anyone quite so charming. And so he watched the lady as she walked to the edge of the bluff overlooking the sea, and turned to the left to go along the pathway toward the village.
Five hundred yards away she was met by a tall man wearing a long black coat. Was it the priest he had noticed that morning at the door of the Catholic church in the village? Yes, there was no