CHAPTER V
IN WHICH WE MEET OLD FRIENDS
Morning with a glory of sun flooding in at the small aperture beneaththe gable and through every crack and cranny of timeworn roof andwalls; a glory to dazzle my sleepy eyes and fill me with ineffablegladness, despite my cuts and bruises.
For a moment I lay blinking drowsily and then started to my elbow, myevery nerve a-thrill to the sound of a soft and regular breathing.
She lay within a yard of me, half-buried in the hay that clung abouther shapeliness; and beholding her thus in the sweet abandonment ofslumber, so altogether unconscious of my nearness, it was with ahalf-guilty feeling that I leaned nearer to drink in her loveliness.
Her hair was disordered, and here and there a stalk of hay hadensconced itself in these silky ripples, and no wonder, for observinga glossy curl above her ear I had an urgent desire to feel it twinedabout my finger, and shifted my gaze to her face, viewing in turn hercheek rosy with sleep, her dark, curling lashes, her vivid lips, thecreamy whiteness of her throat.
But--even now, even as I mutely worshipped her thus, something in thevoluptuous beauty of her troubled me. Memory waked, Imagination burstits shackles and began its fell work:
Other eyes than mine had seen her thus ... other hands ... otherlips.... Before me flashed a vision of Devereux's evil featureshatefully triumphant. And yet ... Great God, was this indeed the faceof a wanton? Could such horror possibly be?
In imagination the dead lived again, the past returned, and through myclosed lids I saw Devereux--her "slave and master" lean to gloat uponher defenceless beauty, bold-eyed and on his cruel lips the smile of asatyr.... And bowing my sweating temples between quivering fists, Iground my teeth in agony.
Now as I crouched thus, plagued by the obscene demons of myimagination, I was aroused by a distant sound and opening my eyes sawhow the sun touched Diana's sleeping form like the blessing of God.And yet ... what of that night at Raydon Manor? She had volunteered meno word of explanation--not one--and why?
Up to me, borne on the sunny air, came the sound of a whistle thatbrought me to my feet eager for action, for conflict or deathitself--anything rather than the harrowing torment of my thoughts.Very cautiously I crossed the uneven floor and lifting the trap assilently as possible, I set the ladder in place and descended. Thewhistling had stopped, but in its stead I caught a sound of stealthymovement outside the barn, and glancing about, I presently espied mywhip where I had dropped it last night, and with this in my hand Igently unbarred the doors and opening them a little way, stepped outinto the radiant morning. And then, tossing aside my whip, I ranforward, both hands extended in eager greeting.
"Why, Jerry!" I exclaimed. "O Jerry Jarvis, you come like an angel ofheaven!"
"Lord!" exclaimed the Tinker, grasping my hands very hard. "Lord loveyou, Mr. Vereker--"
"Call me Perry as you used."
"Why, then--here's j'y, Perry--but as to angels, who ever see an angelin cord breeches--an' patched at that! But God bless us all--whatshould bring you hereabouts--"
"Love, Jerry--love--"
"You mean--Anna?"
"Yes, we are to be married as soon as possible."
"What, you an' Anna?"
"Who else, my Jeremy?"
"But she's a-breaking her 'eart over summat or other--"
"No, she's lying fast asleep in the loft yonder and looking assweet--as good and pure as--as--"
"As she is, Peregrine!"
"Yes, Jerry. But what are you doing here, God bless you!"
"Didn't you know as she wrote me two days since--app'inting me to meether here--and here I am, a bit early p'raps, but then I thought shewas lonely--in trouble, d'ye see--in trouble. And then, Lord, if youonly knew how hungry--aye, ravenous I am for sight of her arter allthis time--"
"Why, then, you shall see her--at once."
"Nay, let her have her sleep out; let's you an' me get a fire going.I've a frying pan in my cart over yonder--ham an' eggs, lad!"
"God bless you again, Jerry--breakfast! And here among the trees itwill be like old times, though Jessamy ought to be with us, ofcourse."
"Well he's over at my little camp not so far away. I'm pitched t'other side Amberley wood."
"How is he, Jerry?"
"Mighty well. He's rich again, y' see--aye, richer than ever an'pursooed by several widders in consequence. He's come into a mort o'money, has Jessamy. But you know all about it, o' course?"
"Not a word."
"Lord, an' 't was your uncle, Sir Jervas, as done it! Left Jessfive--thousand--pound! Think o' that!"
Thus, talking like the old friends we were, we set about collectingsticks and soon had the fire burning merrily. All at once we stoodsilent and motionless, for Diana was singing.
It was an Italian love song full of sweet rippling notes and trillsbut, as she sang it, a very ecstasy of yearning tenderness thatchanged suddenly to joy and rapturous happiness, her glorious voiceringing out full-throated, rich and clear, inexpressibly sweet,swelling louder and louder until suddenly it was gone and we standingmute with awed delight.
"She's a-doin' her hair!" whispered Jerry. "She allus used to sing inthe morning a-doin' her hair, I mind, but never--ah, neverso--wonderfully!"
And then she began again, this time that Zingari air we bothremembered so well. Singing thus, she stepped out into the sunlightbut, seeing us, stopped in the middle of a note and ran forward (evenas I had done) with both hands outstretched in greeting.
"Jerry!" she cried. "My dear, good Jerry!"
But the Tinker drew back, a little abashed by the wondrous change inher.
"Why, Ann--why, Anna!" he stammered. "Can this be you--so--sobeautiful? Speaks different too!"
"O Jerry dear--won't you kiss me?"
"Glory be!" he exclaimed, taking her outstretched hands. "Though sovery different 'tis the same sweet maid--'tis the very same Ann aslearned to read an' write s' wonderful quick--Glory be!" And so theykissed each other.
Then walking between us, busy with question and answer, he brought uswhere stood his weather-beaten, four-wheeled chaise with Diogenes,that equine philosopher, cropping the grass as sedulously as though hehad never left off and who, lifting shaggy head, snorted unimpassionedgreeting and promptly began to nibble again.
Butter, a new loaf, ham and eggs and coffee! What hungry mortals coulddesire more? And now the Tinker and I, sitting side by side in theleafy shade, watched our Diana who, scornful of all assistance,prepared breakfast with her own quick, capable hands.
What words are there may adequately describe this meal? With whatappetite we ate, all three; how we talked and laughed for small reasonor no reason at all.
"Lord, Ann!" exclaimed the Tinker, glancing from the piece of ham onhis knife point to Diana's stately beauty.
"'Tis wonderful what two years can do! You don't need any book ofetiquette these days--you look so proud, so noble--aye, as any duchessin a nov-el or out! Lord love you, Ann, it don't seem right any moreas you should be a-drinkin' coffee out of a tin mug along of atravellin' tinker in patched breeches, that it don't! I reckon you'veseen a lot o' the grand world an' plenty o' fine folk, eh Ann?"
"Enough to know the simpler joys are always the best, dear Jerry, andto love the Silent Places more than ever. And as for you, Jerry, therenever was such a tinker before--"
"And never will be again!" I added.
"And so we mean to stay with you awhile, don't we, Peregrine?"
"Excellent!" said I. "We will shift camp to the old place--"
"The little wood beside the stream beyond Wyvelstoke," said Dianasoftly, "that dear place where Love found us--in the dawn--and youclasped the little locket about my neck, Peregrine."
"Which you don't wear now, Diana!"
"Which you shall put back--one day--soon, Peregrine."
"Why did you take it off, Diana?"
"Because!" she answered.
"Because of--what?" I persisted.
"Just--because!" she answered in the old
tantalising way. And so wesat a little while looking into each other's eyes.
"By Goles!" exclaimed the Tinker so suddenly that we both started,having clean forgotten him for a while. "'Tis good to be young, but'tis better--aye, much better, to be in love, that it is! And--you maybe mighty fine folk up to London, but you'll always be just childrento me--my children o' the woods!"
"And so, Jerry, we'll stay with you until we are married if you'llhave us?"
"Have you?" he repeated, a little huskily. "Have you? Why, Lord loveye--I feel that proud, an' s' happy as I don't know what--only--Godbless ye both--Amen!" So saying, he arose rather abruptly and hastenedoff to harness Diogenes.
"Diana," said I, drawing her to me, "Diana, what do you mean by'because'?" And standing submissive in the circle of my arms sheanswered:
"Because you love me so truly, Peregrine, doubt cannot make you loveme less. But because of your doubt I have grieved, and because Igrieved I ran away, and because I ran away you came to find me, andbecause of this I am happy. But because I am--a little proud also, Iwill not wear your love-token until you know how unjust are yourdoubts, and because I am a woman you shall not know this until Ichoose. But because I love you in spite of your doubts as you love mebecause you are so nobly generous, I am yours for ever and ever. Sohere's the answer--here's the meaning of 'because' and now--won't youkiss me, Peregrine?"
Thus stood we awhile amid the whispering leaves, and by the touch ofher mouth doubt and heaviness were lifted from me. Then hand in handshe brought me where we might behold the barn, no longer a place ofevil, gloomy and sinister, but transformed by the kindly sun into aplace of beauty, dignified by age.
"Good-bye, old barn!" she whispered. "Look, Peregrine, it is so very,very old, and cannot last much longer--and I love it because it wasthere my man fought for me; it was there he showed me how trulygenerous, how wonderful is his love for me--O Peregrine, my gorgiogentleman, what a man you are! Good-bye, old barn!" she whispered."Good-bye!"
And when I had led forth my post horse and tethered him behind thefour-wheeled cart, we clambered in all three, Diana sitting closebeside me so that the kindly wind ever and anon would blow a tress ofher fragrant hair across my lips to be kissed.
And so the dead went back to his grave and my demons fled awhile.
"Perry," said the Tinker as, turning from the highway, Diogenes ambleddown a narrow lane, "you've forgot to ask about this here watch o'mine."
"Well, how is it, Jerry?"
"Never was such a watch! Look at it! Reg'lar as the sun! Which rilesJessamy. Y' see, his ain't to be depended on nowadays, owing to aboot--"
"A boot, Jerry?" laughed Diana.
"At Maidstone Fair, Ann! Jessamy was preachin' Brotherly Love when alarge cove in a white 'at up an' kicked him in the watch, which is aptto be a little unsettlin' to any timepiece. Anyhow, Jessamy's hasnever gone right since."
"His watch again!" cried I. "Last time the trouble was a brick, Iremember."
"But Jerry, what happened to the 'cove' in the white hat?" enquiredDiana.
"Well, arter it was all over, Jessamy took him aside into a quietcorner an' they prayed together."
"Jessamy was always a forceful evangelist!" she laughed.
"And there he is."
"Where?" questioned Diana.
"Listen and you'll hear him, Ann!" Sure enough from the boskagesadjacent came the ring and tap of a hammer to the accompaniment of arich, sweet voice unpraised in song.
Hereupon, setting two slim, white fingers to her mouth, Diana whistledloud and shrilly, to the Tinker's no small delight. Ensued aprodigious rustling and snapping of twigs and into the lane sprang theslender, shapely figure of Jessamy himself, as bright of eye, as lightand quick of foot as ever.
I will not dilate upon this second meeting, but it was good to feelthe hearty grip of his fingers, to hear the glad welcome in his voice,to see how gallantly he stooped to kiss Diana's hand, and how hissun-tanned cheek flushed beneath the touch of her lips.
"Why, Anna!" he exclaimed. "Well, well--you ha' become so--so--youlook so uncommon--what I mean is--"
"Beautiful!" said the Tinker. "Be-autiful's the word, Jess!"
"Aye, aye, shipmate, so it is, comrade!"
"And the next word is strike camp, Jessamy, up stick an' away, Jess--"
"We're going to the old place, Jessamy!" nodded Diana.
"Where you instructed me in the 'noble art,' Jessamy!" said I.
"So it's all together and with a will, Jess!" added the Tinker.
"Aye, aye--and heartily!" laughed Jessamy.
I will pass over the labour of the ensuing hours wherein we allwrought cheerfully; but evening found us camped within thatoft-remembered wood beside the stream whose murmurous waters seemed tofind a voice to welcome us.
CHAPTER VI
WHICH, AS THE PATIENT READER SEES, IS THE LAST
The Tinker stood resplendent in brass-buttoned coat of bottle greenwhich, if a little threadbare at the seams, made up for this by theastonishing size and sheen of its buttons.
At this precise moment (I remember) he was engaged in brushing itvigorously, pausing between whiles to pick carefully at certainrefractory blemishes, to give an extra polish to some particularbutton, or consult the never-failing watch, for to-day Diana and Iwere to be married.
"By Goles, Peregrine, it's past twelve o'clock already!" heejaculated. "They ought to be here soon and--"
He checked suddenly and stood hushed and mute, for Jessamy hadappeared,--a glorified Jessamy, resplendent from top to toe; his bootsshone superbly, his coat sat on him with scarce a wrinkle, but hischief glory was his shirt, prodigiously beruffled at wrists and bosom.
The Tinker eyed these noble adornments in undisguised admiration.
"Lord, Jessamy!" he exclaimed. "Lord, Jess!"
At this, Jessamy's diffidence vanished and coming to the little mirrorthat hung against an adjacent tree, he scanned his reflection with anappreciative eye.
"Aye, aye, Jerry," quoth he, "when I wears a frilled shirt--whichain't often, as you know, Jeremy--I wears one with--frills!"
"Jerry, dear--O Jerry!" called Diana from the dingy tent.
"Yes, Anna!"
"I want you to come and hook up my dress!"
"Lord, Anna! To do what?"
"Hook up my dress for me."
"But--Ann--"
"I can't possibly do it myself, so come at once, there's a dear!"
"Won't Perry do, Ann?"
"Certainly not!"
"But I never hooked up a lady in my life, Ann!"
"Then you're going to hook up this lady now. So come at once and don'tbe silly!"
"Why, very well, Ann! But if I do it up all wrong an' sp'ile ye--don'tblame me, that's all!" Saying which, he disappeared into the dingytent, leaving me to survey myself in the small mirror and find faultwith my every feature and so much as I could see of my attire, whileJessamy hovered near, eyeing me a little anxiously.
"You don't feel anywise groggy or--shaky o' your pins, do ye, Perry?"he enquired solicitously.
"Not yet, Jessamy."
"Why, very good, brother! But if so be you should feel it comin' on,jest tip me the office--I've a lemon in my pocket. There's some, beinggroggy, as nat'rally turns to a sup o' rum or brandy, but the bestthing as I knows on to pull a man together is a squeeze o' lemonand--here comes the rest o' your backers--hark!"
The crack of a whip, a jingle of bits and curb-chains coming rapidlynearer, and then the air rang with a cheery "view hallo!"
A rustle of petticoats and Diana was beside me, a radiant vision inthe gown she could not hook up for herself, and side by side, we wentto meet our guests, and thus beheld a coach-and-four galloping alongthe lane, the sedate Atkinson seated in the rumble and upon the boxthe tall, athletic form of Anthony, flourishing his whip in joyoussalutation, a cheery, glad-eyed Anthony; and beholding her who sat soclose beside him, I understood this so great change in him. Reining upin masterly fashion, he sprang lightly to earth an
d taking his wife inpowerful arms, lifted her down, pausing to kiss her in midair, andthen she had run forward to clasp Diana in eager embrace.
"Begad, Perry, old fellow, all's well at last, eh?" exclaimed Anthony,grasping my hand. "What I mean to say is--will ye look at 'em, begad!Did mortal eyes ever see so much dooced loveliness and beauty begad?What I say is no--damme if they did! And here's his lordship to say asmuch."
"Ah, Peregrine," said the Earl, limping forward, "if this is a happyday for you, to me it is no less so. How say you, friend Jarvis--andyou, Jessamy Todd?"
"Peregrine," said Barbara, as we came within sight of the dingy tent,"has she told you--has Diana told you how nobly she stood my friendand at what cruel cost--has she?"
"Not a word!" said I, beginning to tremble.
"Ah--that was so like you, Di--so very like you, my brave, dear girl."
"There was no need, Barbara. Peregrine's love is such that--though hedoubted, being human--he loved me still!"
"Then I'll tell him--here and now! No, over yonder by the brook. Andyou, Tony--Anthony dear, you must come and help me."
"Yes, tell him, Barbara," quoth his lordship; "tell him, as you toldme, that Peregrine may know how brave and generous is she who honourshim to-day."
And so, with Barbara's hand on one arm and Anthony's on the other, Icame to that leafy bower beside the stream where I had known Diana'sfirst kiss.
"You will remember," began Barbara, seated between us, "you willremember, Peregrine, how, when first we met, I was with Captain Danby?I fled with him to escape a worse man, I mean Sir Geoffrey Devereux orHaredale, as his power somehow, for even while I was at school he gaveme to understand it was his wish I should marry his friend Haredale. Iwas very young, my mother long dead, and flattered by the attentionsof a man so much older than myself, I wrote him letters--silly,girlish letters very full of romantic nonsense--Anthony has seen them.But the oftener I met Sir Geoffrey, the less I liked him, until myfeeling changed to dread. Captain Danby, seeing this, offered hishelp, and deceiving his friend would have deceived me also, as youwill remember--"
"Damned scoundrel!" snorted Anthony.
"It was while in Italy with Diana--Anthony had just left me--that Imet Sir Geoffrey again. He dared to make love to me and when Irepulsed him, threatened to show my silly letters to Anthony. Then,thank God, we came home! But he followed and upon the night of thereception sent Captain Danby to me at Lord Wyvelstoke's house with aletter--"
"Ah--it was your letter?" I exclaimed.
"Yes, Peregrine--a dreadful letter, repeating his threat that unless Iwent to his chambers that very hour he would send Anthony theletters--and I knew--I knew that if my Anthony ever saw them, he wouldfight Sir Geoffrey and be killed--"
"Not alone though, Loveliness!" said Anthony, between shut teeth.
"In my dread I confided in Diana--"
"And she--went with you," said I hoarsely, "in--Danby's chaise!"
"Yes. When Sir Geoffrey saw Diana she seemed to fascinate him--herefused to give up my letters--said he could not part with them. Inthis way he tortured me for weeks until at last he wrote from RaydonManor, saying I should have the letters if I would call for them inperson, but it must be at ten o'clock at night--and Diana must go withme. So we went--there were other men there--they had been drinking.When we entered the room, Captain Danby locked the door--I nearlyswooned with horror--"
"Ah, my God!" exclaimed Anthony.
"But then--O Peregrine--before any one could move or prevent--Dianasprang upon Sir Geoffrey--I saw the flash of steel, and he lay backhelpless in his chair, staring up at her--not daring to move, herdagger pricking his throat--yes--I saw the blood! 'Sir Geoffrey,' saidshe in an awful, whispering voice, 'give up the letters and order themto open the door, or I will surely kill you'--and I saw him flinch asthe dagger bit deeper. But he laughed and obeyed her, and so with theletters in my hand, Diana led me out of the room and none offered tohinder us. We had been admitted at the door that gave into the woodand we had just opened it when some one among the trees groaned, andafraid of being seen, we locked the door and ran back to the house andasked Sir Geoffrey for a carriage. And then--Captain Danby hurriedinto the room, saying you and Anthony were outside--in the hall. Thenwe fled into Sir Geoffrey's study and--I think that is all?"
"Yes!" said I dully. "That is all!"
"And enough for one lifetime!" added Anthony. "No more secrets,Loveliness!"
"Never any more, dear Anthony, though it was all for you that Isuffered, and Diana--my dear, dear Diana--kept silence and allowed youto think--to--"
"God forgive me!" I groaned.
"I wasn't worth it, Babs!" exclaimed Anthony, kissing her; and thenhis hand was upon my shoulder.
"What now, old fellow?"
"O Anthony, was there ever such a blind fool? Was ever angel of God socruelly misjudged? My noble Diana!" Hardly knowing what I did, Iturned and began to stumble along beside the brook, conscious only ofmy most bitter remorse. And then a hand clasped mine, and turning tothe touch of these warm, vital fingers, "Diana," said I, "O Diana--"
"You know--at last, Peregrine?"
"I know that I dared to think you unworthy--doubted your sweetpurity--called you--wanton. And I--miserable fool--in my pridefulfolly dreamed that in marrying you--mine was the sacrifice! Oh, I amnot fit to live--Diana--O Diana, can you forgive me?--All my life Ihave been a failure!"
"Dear love, hush--oh, hush!" she sighed in weeping voice. But in theextremity of my self-abasement, I knelt to kiss her hands, the hem ofher dress, her slender, pretty feet. "Peregrine dear, your--yourmistake was very natural; you saw me--at Raydon Manor--"
"I should have disbelieved my eyes!"
"And I could not explain for Anthony and Barbara's sakes. And when Icould have explained I would not, because I wished you to--yes,dear--to suffer--just a little--and because I wished to see if youwere brave enough to forgive your Diana--lift her from shame anddishonour to--to the secure haven of--your love. And you were braveenough and--now, oh, now I'm crying--and I hate to cry, Perry--butit's only because I do love you so much more than I can ever say--sodon't--don't kneel to me, beloved--come to my heart!"
So she stooped and raised me to the comfort of her gentle arms, to thehaven of her fragrant mouth.
And thus the dead was buried at last, mountains deep, and my hatefuldemons vanished utterly away for ever and for ever.
"You would always have been mine, Diana!"
"And so it is I love you, Peregrine! And so it is I am yearning to beyour wife--and yet here we stay and our guests all gone--"
"Gone?" I exclaimed.
"I told them we would follow--in Jerry's cart. Shall you mind ridingto your wedding in a tinker's cart, dear?"
"My wise Diana, I love its every spoke and timber for your sake, socould there never be any other chariot of any age, on four wheels ortwo, so proper to bear us to our happiness, my clever Gipsy-Lady.Come, dear, hurry--for I am longing, aching to hear you call me'husband.'"
"And are my eyes--very red, Perry?"
"Yes--no--what matter? They are lovelier than ever they were--myjewels--let me kiss them!"
"And now--this, dear heart!" said she a little tremulously, and laidthe gold locket in my hand: and kneeling beside this chuckling streamas we had done once before, I clasped it about her white throat andkissed her until she bade me (a little breathlessly) to remember ourwaiting guests.
And thus at last, sitting with Diana's hand in mine, behind Diogenes,that four-footed philosopher, we rattled, creaked, and jolted away toour new life and all that the future held for us.
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