CHAPTER VI
I AM HAUNTED OF EVIL DREAMS
Either George was of different fibre to me, or the rum had beenneither hot enough nor sufficiently strong, for on awaking I foundmyself full of pain, the least movement an agony, my head throbbingwoefully and I burning with fever.
George looked at me and, shaking his head, hurried for his wife, who,having taken my pulse and felt my brow, clucked over me like adistressed and motherly hen and ordered me immediately to bed,whither, after some argument and faint reluctance on my part, I waspromptly conducted by the indefatigable George, and where, having beenduly physicked by his Mary, I sank to a restless slumber. And nowensued a dim period of troubled dreams and horrible nightmares.
I awoke to find my chamber full of the glow of evening; through theopen lattice breathed an air sweet with a perfume of flowers; borne tomy drowsy hearing stole a mingling of soothing, homely sounds, thesnort of a horse from the stable, the clucking of hens, the faintrattle of a pail, to all of which peaceful sounds I hearkened in lazycontent and with no desire to move. Vaguely, at the back of my mind,was a memory of some trouble now forgotten, nor did I seek toremember, content to stare out upon this summer evening; nor did Itrouble to move even at the opening of the door and thus presently wasaware of Anthony bending over me.
"Why, Perry, are you awake at last? How are you, old fellow?"
"Very well, Anthony," I answered, vaguely surprised to hear my voiceso far off, as it were. "Very comfortable, Tony, only--a littleweary--"
"And no wonder, Perry, here you've lain raving all last night and mostof to-day."
"Raving, Tony?"
"Aye--all about some damned postchaise or other with red wheels."
"Postchaise?" said I, wondering. "Postchaise? How long have I lainhere?"
"This will be the fourth day, Peregrine."
"Four days!" said I. "Impossible!"
"I rode down yesterday on the off-chance of finding you here--and hereyou were, begad, raging in fever and cursing and swearing verycreditably, 'pon my soul! And all George could do to hold you down--"
"I'm better now, Anthony--get up to-morrow--"
"For which God be thanked!" said he fervently, and seating himselfupon the bed, he grasped my hand. "Peregrine," said he solemnly, "youhave honoured me with your friendship and as your friend I make boldto offer you a friend's advice,--in heaven's name, old fellow, be morediscreet!"
"In what particular, Anthony?"
"There is but one, Perry--only one, dear fellow, and spelt with fiveletters--woman."
"You grow cryptic, Anthony."
"My dear Perry," said he, beginning to fidget with his stock, "my verydear fellow, as may be supposed, your extraordinary sudden andperfectly inexplicable flight from Wyvelstoke's reception anddisappearance has caused no small consternation, and, to one person inparticular, very much grief and anxiety. Under these distressingcircumstances, I, as your friend, sought an answer to the riddle,the--the reason for your--very mysterious disappearance, and naturallyarrive at the conclusion that it is a case of--er--_cherchez lafemme_, Perry--"
"The devil you did!" exclaimed I.
"I haunted all the clubs, Perry, and with your uncles made discreetenquiry for you in every likely and unlikely quarter--yesterday, as alast possibility, I rode down here and learned from George how youcame staggering in at dawn, plastered with mud, wet to the skin andaccompanied by the lady who, I may inform you, had the good judgmentto disappear as soon as possible--"
"The lady," said I, trembling and indignant, "was a poor distractedcreature I found on my way--"
"Precisely, dear fellow! So here am I to lend you such assistance inthe matter as a friend may. No reason to worry yourself, only inheaven's name be a little discreet, Perry--discretion's the word,"
"Discretion be damned!"
"Precisely, old fellow! And now only mention how I may assist you inthis unfortunate situation?"
"By listening to me!"
"Ears wide open, Perry."
So I told him briefly of the storm, how, dazed and shaken after beingthrown by Wildfire, I wandered into the wood and came upon the poor,distracted girl and brought her back with me to the "Soaring Lark." Toall of which he listened, tap-tapping softly with his foot.
"Ha--outside that accursed house!" he exclaimed, when I had done. "Theplace should be burned down!" And then in a different tone, glancingat me somewhat askance, "But then, Perry--egad--don't ye see this doesnot explain your abrupt departure from the reception and flight fromLondon--now does it?"
"Not in the least, Anthony. Nor can I offer any explanation."
Here Anthony pursed his lips to a soundless whistle and began his softtap-tapping again.
"Diana was--deeply hurt," said he at last. "Every hour she is grievingfor you--breaking her heart, Perry--as we sit here."
"For God's sake, Anthony," I cried passionately, "keep your feetstill!"
"Eh? Oh, begad, forgive me, Perry! Consequently, she will be overjoyedto learn you are here safe. She will post down to you as fast ashorses can bring her--"
"Need she know, Anthony?" At this he turned with a kind of leap andglanced at me with a startled expression.
"Lord, man--you are really ill!" he exclaimed.
"Ill or no, Anthony, if you are truly my friend and value myfriendship, promise me--swear to me she shall not come near me!"
"Egad, Peregrine, you are damned ill!"
"Promise--promise! Swear me this, Anthony!" cried I, starting up inbed to grasp at him with eager hands. And then came Mary, running, toclasp me in eager arms and lay me back among the pillows.
"Mr. Anthony!" she cried. "Oh, Mr. Anthony, didn't I warn 'ee not toexcite 'im then--oh, Mr. Anthony!"
Lying thus helpless, I felt myself shaken as by an ague fit, sawAnthony staring down at me fearful-eyed ere he crept from the room,felt an arm beneath my head, a cup at my lips and, drinking thirstily,lay awhile staring up at the ceiling, where red wheels seemed to spinthrough the mist of a gossamer veil spangled with gold stars.
It lay curling across my pillow close to my eyes, stirring gently asif endowed with life, a delicate, shimmering filament, never quite atrest, that glowed where the light caught it, and I watched it drowsilyuntil, hearing a stealthy sound, I glanced up to behold my uncleGeorge standing beside the bed.
"Why, Peregrine," said he softly, his handsome face unwontedly grave,"how are you, dear lad?"
"Thank you--I am greatly better and here is a hair on the pillow,Uncle George! This is neither your hair nor mine, and Mrs. Mary's isbrown, as I remember. So whose hair is this, Uncle George?"
"Hair?" he repeated, fumbling with his whisker. "I don't see any hair,Perry."
"Here on my pillow, Uncle."
"Well, what of it, lad. Your Aunt Julia's, perhaps--"
"Hers is black. And this is--not black, you'll notice, sir, and--verylong."
"Why, so 't is! But if it distresses you--there, away with it!"
"But whose is it?" I persisted.
"Lord, Perry, how should I know--why worry about such a trifle.Compose yourself, dear lad. I'll have 'em wake Julia, she was up withyou all night--egad, she'll be overjoyed to see you so much better--"
"Pray no--don't disturb her. Have I been here long?"
"Nine days, Peregrine--touch and go--knocking at death's door,boy--and raving like any madman."
"What--what about, sir?" I questioned, beginning to tremble.
"A lot o' wild nonsense, Perry--"
"What, sir--what?" I demanded.
"There, there, lad--don't distress yourself. 'T was nothing tosignify--mere sick fancies."
"Fancies concerning what, Uncle George?"
"Well, something about red wheels and a drowned woman in a wood, awall, and a door, and suchlike idle stuff. Y' see, Perry, not contentwith getting yourself wet through, you must let that brute of a horseo' yours throw you on to your head; doctors say 't is a marvel you'realive, and begad, Perry lad, 'tis our firm belief, Jervas and mine
,that you'd ha' died if it hadn't been for your wonderful aunt andDiana--watched over you like the angels they are--saved your lifebetwixt 'em--"
The room seemed to go suddenly black and from the awful darkness myuncle babbled cheerily, while I, smitten by a nauseous faintness,strove to speak yet could not.
"Uncle George," said I at last, "is--is she here--now?"
"Who, Diana? No, lad. But be patient, she's only out riding withBarbara--was with you here all day, she'll be back soon--be patient,she's never long away from you these days, b'gad--"
"No!" cried I, shuddering, "no! Don't let her come near me--don't lether touch me--send her away or I shall die!"
"Good God!" ejaculated my uncle George, glancing about helplessly."He's off again--this cursed fever--must call Julia."
"Don't!" said I, reaching out a feeble hand in supplication. "Thisis--not fever, sir. This is my conscious self imploring you to keepher away from me, or I shall truly die--or run mad--"
"O Peregrine--O Peregrine," he stammered, in choking voice, "thiscan't be you--to say such things--so cruel--this is your olddelirium--you are raving again--you must be--"
"Before God, sir, speaking in all sanity, I beg and implore that youwill--keep her from me."
"Oh, damnation--this is awful!" exclaimed my uncle, his handsome facelooking strangely haggard. "Day and night in your delirium you havelain cursing Diana and with Diana's hand upon your brow and Diana'stears wetting your pillow--and now--O Peregrine, lad, tell me youdon't mean it--that you are a little fevered, yes--yes, people at suchtimes often turn against those they most love--will kill Diana else--"
"Or she me, sir--so keep her away--don't let her touch me--I'll notsee her, I say--I'll not, by God--I'll not--"
"Hush--hush! Don't scream, lad, don't scream!"
He was on his knees, had clasped my trembling weakness in his greatarms and was soothing me, and I weeping for my very impotence, whenthe door opened and Aunt Julia appeared.
"Dear Heaven!" she cried, bending above me. "What have you done,George? What have you done to him?"
"O Aunt!" I cried. "Dear Aunt Julia, don't let her touch meagain--don't let her come near me or I shall go mad--"
"No, no, my loved Perry, no one shall tend you but myself--there, dearboy, be comforted! O George, don't stand gaping--give me the draughtyonder--quick!"
"Promise me, Aunt--swear she shall not approach me again!
"I swear it, dear Peregrine. Come, drink--"
Peregrine's Progress Page 48
