by Tom Bevan
Chapter XXVI.
ALL ON A BRIGHT MARCH MORNING.
The March winds were blowing, and the daffydowndillies were noddingmerry heads in the sunshine. The hawthorn hedges were dotted with thebright green of bursting buds; and behind this promise of cover fromthe prying eyes of predatory urchins, the small birds were busyhouse-building. The tall elms were still bare of leaves, but the rookshad framed their crazy nests, and were now busy following theploughman, and waxing fat on succulent worms. The sedgy pools andditches in the forest were noisy with the hoarse croaking of coloniesof frogs. Lambs skipped in the farmers' meadows, and cropped the grassthat had already lost the brown tinge of winter.
Spring was come, vouched for by the calendar, the place of King Sol inthe blue heavens, and the changing aspect of reawakening nature.
By every token of a healthy youth and a glorious March morning,Johnnie's thoughts should have been light, fanciful, and centred roundthe fair image of Mistress Dorothy Dawe. Alas! they were dark as amidwinter night, and as gloomy as a funeral oration.
"'She only drove me to despair, When--she--un-kind--did--prove.'"
Johnnie hummed the last few bars of a popular madrigal in slow anddirge-like tones. "She" was still wayward and unkind, and "He" wassetting out on the morrow in search of treasure to lay at a maiden'sfeet. The young fellow's visions of the Indies were no longer rosy,but drab as November skies. He was pledged to set his face westwardho! but the zest was gone out of the enterprise. He leaned over agate, and watched the gulls fishing in the river.
Johnnie did not hear a light step coming down the meadow towards him;no sound disturbed his melancholy reflections. "Jack!" murmured a softvoice.
The young man started as though an arrow had struck him. His faceflushed hotly, and a gleam of pleasure lighted up its gloom.
"Good morrow, Mistress Dorothy," he said. "I suppose thy father waitsat the house? I will go to him at once."
He turned from the stile; but on his arm there was the flutter of ahand like to the flutter of a bird's wing, and he stopped. He turnedto look at the river again, and the maiden's eyes followed his. Therewas silence whilst a man might have told ten score.
"The wings of the gulls flash like silver in the sunshine," venturedDorothy.
"So I have thought."
A pause.
"Thou art leaving us to-morrow."
"That is why I have been watching the gulls for near an hour."
"I don't understand."
"Paignton Rob says that these white gulls are found all the world over.I shall see them a thousand leagues away--screaming round the ship;massing in white armies on the New World cliffs; fishing in the rivers.My last vision of home must have white gulls in it. Away yonder theywill be fairy birds to me, calling up pictures of my ancestralhomestead along Severn side. The forests there will not recall theforest here. How shall their stifling heat and towering palms, theirgaudy birds and flowers, their roaring beasts and loathly reptiles,remind one of the cool, sweet glades, the scented bracken, the gnarledoaks, the leaping deer, and sweet-throated songsters of home? 'Tis thevision of the river, the tide, and the wheeling gulls that I shall seeagain in the land of 'El Dorado.'"
There was a sadness and pathos in the forester's voice that wentstraight to the heart of the forest maiden. The hand was on his armagain, fluttering, trembling. "I have been very wicked!" The flutynotes of a sweet voice were broken.
"Who says so?" demanded Johnnie harshly and loudly.
"I do; you do."
"I do not!"
"But I have hurt you."
"Why shouldn't you do so, if it pleases you? Women must aye bemeddling with pins and barbs. If they be not pricking velvets orhome-spun, they must be thrusting sharp points into those that lovethem best. Why shouldst thou differ from others of thy sex?"
The young man's voice was bitter; the barbs still rankled. They hadbeen long in the wounds they had made, and there was fieryinflammation. How often had he told the maid that she was like noneother of her sex; that she was peerless--stood alone! The memory offormer passionate declarations flashed across the minds of them both,and both sighed down into silence.
"Wilt thou not forgive me?"
"Why didst thou flout me, Dolly?"
"Just a maid's foolish temper. Think how full of whimsies we women be.Men be not so; they have strength denied to us, the weaker vessel."(Johnnie's face was visibly softening. Dolly sighed with renewed hope,and went on.) "I was hurt because thou didst plan and resolve to go tothe Indies without ever a word to me. I was not thought on. The Queenmoves a finger, and straightway thou art fashioning wings to take theeto the ends of the earth. 'Twas thy duty so to do, but why treat me asa chit or child of no account? Thy head was ever bobbing against thatof Master Jeffreys, or pouring plans into the one ear of Paignton Rob.'Mum' was the word if ye did but catch the rustle of my gown. Thouhadst vowed to share thy life with me; yet there did ye sit, likeconspirators, planning momentous issues in life, with never a chancefor me to utter 'Yea' or 'Nay.' Was that just?"
"I told thee of my resolve as soon as I had made it firm."
"That was a day too late for my pride. The Dawes have some pride, JackMorgan."
"They have reason for it, Mistress Dawe."
"Their friends should respect it."
"I was hoping to increase it. Why, thinkest thou, did I resolve torisk life and limb in the Indies, unless to gather wealth, that I mightlay it at thy feet?"
"Nay; thou wert bitten by the flea of adventure, and must needs rushabout the world to deaden the itching. Suppose that I had rather havethee remain at home, being but a plain maid, who would find contentmentas a farmer's wife?"
The idea had not occurred to Johnnie, and he gasped in astonishment.Dolly saw his confusion, and wisely did not press her point. On thecontrary, woman-like, she dropped the whole thread of the argument, andsimply exclaimed a little plaintively,--
"I am sore wearied!"
"Wearied!" cried Johnnie, facing round. "Wearied of what?"
"I have walked from Newnham, and 'tis a trying journey with the windbuffeting one so rudely."
"I thought thou hadst ridden with thy father."
"I walked alone; I wanted to see thee alone. Why should we part illfriends, that have loved one another?"
The next moment a tearful maid was in a strong man's arms. All thewrongs on both sides, real and imaginary, were forgiven and forgotten.Two happy, laughing lovers sat and watched the gulls wheeling, dipping,rising in the spring sunshine.
"Thou hast rare roses in thy cheeks, sweetheart," said Johnnie.
"'Tis the wind," replied Dolly.
"'March wind!'" murmured the youth.
"'April showers!'" sobbed the maiden; for she thought of the morrow,and the tears came into the brave blue eyes.
