Coelebs: The Love Story of a Bachelor
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having Diogenes on the chain was manifested when themoment arrived for Mr Chadwick to separate from Diogenes and his newmaster and proceed on his homeward way. Diogenes, despite a very realattachment for his new owner, was faithful to the old allegiance andshowed so strong a desire to follow Will Chadwick to the Hall that MrMusgrave had to exert his strength in order to restrain him. Thebusiness of holding Diogenes as he tugged determinedly at the chain putMr Musgrave to the undignified necessity of tugging also. Mr Chadwickleft them struggling in the road and proceeded on his way with an amusedsmile; a smile which broadened and finally ended in a laugh.
"I wonder what he smears on the coat to make him that colour?" he musedas he walked. Then he laughed again.
With the knowledge of the Chadwicks' return Mr Musgrave realised thenecessity for keeping Diogenes once more strictly on the chain, saveonly when he had the dog with him in the house; and Diogenes, resentingthis return to captivity, sulked in his kennel and brooded dark plans ofescape during his compulsory inactivity. The desire to escape hardenedinto an unalterable resolve following on a visit from Peggy, which visitmoved him to such transports of delight that Peggy found it as much asshe could do to prevent herself from being knocked over. She clung,laughing, to Mr Musgrave's arm for support when Diogenes hurled himselfupon her; and King, who at the moment of her arrival had been engaged inthe motor-house with Mr Musgrave, regarded the grouping with disfavour,until, catching Mr Musgrave's eye, he left what he was doing andretired.
"Oh," cried Peggy, "isn't he glad to see me?"
She let go of Mr Musgrave's arm and busied herself with Diogenes, whileMr Musgrave looked on, feeling unaccountably very much out in the cold.
"He is looking well," she said, glancing up at John Musgrave andflushing brightly as she met his eye. "He has grown quite stout."
"That," said Mr Musgrave, "is Martha's fault. She can't understandthat over-feeding is as injurious as the other extreme. She shows heraffection for Diogenes by pandering to his appetite."
"Martha is a dear," the girl said warmly. "You are a lucky dog,Diogenes, to have found so kind a home. I hope he is good, that hedoesn't give any trouble. Has he broken anything more?"
"No," said Mr Musgrave, and smiled at the memories her words recalled."He behaves excellently. Of late I have accustomed him to the house. Ifind him companionable, and he dislikes being chained here."
Peggy looked amazed.
"But I thought you--didn't allow dogs indoors?" she said.
"I have never had a dog before," he replied. "I allow Diogenes the runof the house. The concession was made when you went away, because--because he seemed to miss you."
"You dear?" Peggy said, hugging Diogenes.
It was not very clear whether the term of endearment referred to MrMusgrave or the dog; but, since it was Diogenes who received theembrace, the verbal caress might have been intended for the man. Peggystood up, and turned to John Musgrave impulsively.
"What can I say," she cried, "what can I do to prove how grateful I am?"
"I don't think any proof of your gratitude is needed," he replied."Besides, there is no reason why you should feel grateful. In the firstplace, it was a small thing to do; and in the second, I have grownattached to the dog, and am glad of his company. My fireside would seemvery solitary without him."
Peggy's bright face clouded.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, thinking of her plans for the resurrection ofDiogenes. "Then you will want to keep him?"
He shook his head.
"I quite appreciate the fact that he is only a trust. When you areready for him he will be more than glad to return."
"But," she protested, "that wouldn't be fair--to you."
Unwittingly Mr Musgrave had roused her sympathy by that reference tohis solitary fireside. It seemed rather selfish to claim Diogenes whenhe had grown attached to the dog.
"It wouldn't be fair to you," he returned, "or to Diogenes, if I kepthim. That was not a part of the contract."
"Was there any contract?" she asked, smiling. "I understood that yousacrificed your personal inclination in order to get Diogenes and me outof a hole. It was a hole, wasn't it?"
She laughed. It was easy to laugh now over the miseries of thatmorning, but it had been no laughing matter at the time. John Musgravehad rendered her an unforgettable service in rescuing her from thatdilemma.
"It was a hole--yes," he admitted. He looked at her fixedly. "If, asyou say, I sacrificed my inclination on that occasion, I have beenadequately rewarded since; and so, you see, I can't look on the matteras one requiring thanks. I will keep Diogenes until you are quite readyfor him; then you can come in and fetch him, as you do now--and notbring him back again."
While he spoke it was abruptly borne in on John Musgrave's consciousnessthat he would miss, besides Diogenes, these surreptitious visits ofPeggy Annersley's to which he was growing accustomed, though he did notalways see her when she slipped in at his back entrance; but when hepurposely put himself in the way, as upon the present occasion, he feltincreasingly obliged to Diogenes, and to the accident of circumstancesthat was responsible for bringing her there.
"I believe," Peggy said unexpectedly, "that I shall be rather sorry whenthat day comes. It's such fun sharing a jolly secret like this. Thereis a feeling of adventure... a sort of alliance of conspiracy. IfMoresby only knew!"
If Moresby did not actually know, it suspected more than Miss Annersleyguessed, and it was beginning to talk. Mr Musgrave's reputation, whichhad stood the test of years, was suddenly observed to be incliningdangerously, upsetting the popular belief in the rocklike foundations ofits structural character; suggesting, indeed, the sandy nature of thesoil which formed its basis. The best of servants will talk; and, savefor Martha, Mr Musgrave's servants were not superior in this respect toany others. Miss Peggy Annersley's visits to Mr Musgrave'sestablishment were fairly generally known and discussed in the village.
"When I take Diogenes from you," Peggy added, "you will have to come andvisit him. He'll feel hurt if you don't."
"I shall come," John Musgrave answered quietly, "often. After all, Ihave a certain right in the dog."
Peggy nodded.
"He's yours and mine," she rejoined, with a beautiful disregard for thefact that Diogenes was in reality Mr Chadwick's property. "He's reallymore yours than mine, because he would have had to go to strangers ifyou hadn't saved him, and then I should never have seen him again. It'srather amusing being joint owners in a dog. Do you remember telling meyou didn't like dogs? I knew you must be mistaken."
"I am beginning to believe," he replied, "that that was only one of manymistaken ideas. It is, as a matter of fact, a mistake to express adecided opinion on any subject in which one is inexperienced."
Peggy glanced at him with newly-kindled interest, a little puzzled aswell as pleased at his frank admission. Then meeting his gaze fully sheabruptly lowered her own, and looked delightfully shy.
"I think," she said irrelevantly, "I'll take Diogenes for his walk."
Mr Musgrave stooped and unfastened the chain. There was no need for alead when Diogenes went abroad with Peggy.
"Come with me," she said coaxingly, when they reached the gate, "as faras the second field. There are bulls in it."
Mr Musgrave thought it very proper that Peggy should be afraid ofbulls; he therefore very willingly accompanied her for her protection.And when the danger was past, having in mind that possibly the bullswould be still there when she returned from her walk, he suggested theadvisability of his accompanying her all the way.
"Will you?" Peggy cried. "That will be nice. You are sure you don'tmind?"
Mr Musgrave was very positive on this point. Indeed, he minded solittle that when they met the vicar, and subsequently Miss Simpson, heexperienced so little embarrassment in being seen in Miss Annersley'scompany that he felt rather pleased than disconcerted when theseencounters sprang unexpectedly upon them. Mr John Musgrave was, in thelight of Moresby traditi
on, "walking out."
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
Mr Errol, seated in his pleasant drawing-room scanning a newspaperwhile his wife occupied herself with some sewing in the twilight hourbefore the lamps were lighted, suddenly lowered his paper, and lookedwith surprised eyes towards the window, which he faced. For a moment hedoubted the evidence of his senses. Had his eyesight been less keen andhis mind less evenly balanced, he might have been deceived intobelieving that his imagination was playing him tricks; but, after thefirst moment of doubt, he realised that the amazing sight