The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 4

"It was a long time ago," Rory began. "'Bout the middle o' the 17th century. An' in this 'ere mansion, there was a fine young lady livin'; the last heiress o' this 'ere place. Her name was Adelaide Denzell, and she'd fallen in love wiv a humble seafarin' boy named Augustus Sommers.

"They was a right odd couple by all accounts. An' many a person frowned upon their engagement. Why! A lady like her gettin' hammered-for-life to a common bloke like 'im? It didn't go over too well, I can tell you! But Lady Denzell didn't care. No, not a bit! An' them two were just as fixed on gettin' married as any lovers could be.

"But, afore too long, both of 'em started a-fearin' that it just weren't meant t' be. Augustus was called away on a long voyage in a ship. He made every promise t' return an' marry Adelaide come springtime. But spring turned into summer, an' summer faded into fall, an' still Augustus's ship never came back. Days turned into months, an' then into years. Lady Denzell 'adn't a choice but t' guess that her lover was dead."

As Timothy listened, his heart filled with pity. In his imagination, he could just picture the fair lady gazing out to sea with a yearning look in her eyes. If only she could see Augustus' ship sailing back over the horizon. If only she could hear his voice one last time. But her hopes were dashed day by day, until there was no hope left.

Like the changing seasons of every year, Adelaide's life went on. The spring of her youth turned into the autumn of middle age. She had spent all of the meager inheritance her ancestors had left her. A few gambling relatives had squandered the family fortune long before it had fallen into Adelaide's hands. So she lived a very sensible, frugal life.

She never forgot her lost sailor boy. He had been the only one who had loved her. The few relatives who had been left in her family had been too selfish to love. They had never even written her any letters. Instead, they had left her to fend for herself and live all alone and heartbroken.

But one day, while the lady had sat staring at the shoreline, she had seen an elderly seaman walking toward her home. His hair had been almost completely white; his face had been weathered from a life of laboring under the wind and sun. But, even at seventy, he was a handsome, noble looking man.

Adelaide's heart had leapt with a strange feeling of recognition. She had known immediately that it had been her sailor boy. And, although he had been shipwrecked in the Americas and put through countless adventures across the sea, he had made his way back to her at last. His body was now growing weak, but his love was as strong as ever, and he had proof of the tales he told his long-betrothed lady.

"The legend goes," Rory continued, "that Augustus brought his lady a fine bit o' gold; for, after they was married, they 'ad no lack o' money! Then, all of Adelaide's relatives flocked to her 'owse an' tried to act all friendly-like. Each one hoped to get their greedy fumbles on the elderly couple's money. But Lady Denzell would 'ave none of it. Ya see, she never wrote an actual will! Instead, she wrote the oddest bit o' rhyme you've ever 'eard. An', at her funeral, there was many a downcast face t' be sure. The rhyme goes somefing like this:

'For my death, ye waited long,

Thy minds art worth reviling,

With hearts brimful of woeful wrong,

A treasure thou art desiring.

Inherit now all I give to you,

A word of admonition.

The pure in heart will gain the prize,

This is my decision.

So if thine eyes are open,

Thine ears quick to hear,

You're soon to be awoken,

The path, though hidden, shall shine clear.'"