CHAPTER XVIII
_How the Sergeant went upon his guard_
The Arcadians, one and all, generally follow that excellent maxim whichruns:
"Early to bed, and early to rise Makes a man healthy, and wealthy, andwise."
Healthy they are, beyond a doubt, and, in their quaint, simple fashion,profoundly wise. If they are not extraordinarily wealthy, yet are theygenerally blessed with contented minds which, after all, is better thanmoney, and far more to be desired than fine gold.
Now whether their general health, happiness, and wisdom is to beattributed altogether to their early to bed proclivities, is perhaps amoot question. Howbeit, to-night, long after these weary Arcadians hadforgotten their various cares, and troubles in the blessed oblivion ofsleep, (for even Arcadia has its troubles) Bellew sat beneath the shadeof "King Arthur" alone with his thoughts.
Presently, however, he was surprised to hear the house-door open, andclose very softly, and to behold--not the object of his meditations, butMiss Priscilla coming towards him.
As she caught sight of him in the shadow of the tree, she stopped andstood leaning upon her stick as though she were rather disconcerted.
"Aunt Priscilla!" said he, rising.
"Oh!--it's you?" she exclaimed, just as though she hadn't known it allalong. "Dear me! Mr. Bellew,--how lonely you look, and dreadfullythoughtful,--good gracious!" and she glanced up at him with her quick,girlish smile. "I suppose you are wondering what I am doing out here atthis unhallowed time of night--it must be nearly eleven o'clock. Oh dearme!--yes you are!--Well, sit down, and I'll tell you. Let us sithere,--in the darkest corner,--there. Dear heart!--how bright the moonis to be sure." So saying, Miss Priscilla ensconced herself at the veryend of the rustic bench, where the deepest shadow lay.
"Well, Mr. Bellew," she began, "as you know, to-day is my birthday. Asto my age, I am--let us say,--just turned twenty-one and, being young,and foolish, Mr. Bellew, I have come out here to watch another veryfoolish person,--a ridiculous, old Sergeant of Hussars, who will comemarching along, very soon, to mount guard in full regimentals, Mr.Bellew,--with his busby on his head, with his braided tunic and dolman,and his great big boots, and with his spurs jingling, and his sabrebright under the moon."
"So then--you know he comes?"
"Why of course I do. And I love to hear the jingle of his spurs, and towatch the glitter of his sabre. So, every year, I come here, and sitamong the shadows, where he can't see me, and watch him go march, march,marching up and down, and to and fro, until the clock strikes twelve,and he goes marching home again. Oh dear me!--it's all very foolish, ofcourse,--but I love to hear the jingle of his spurs."
"And--have you sat here watching him, every year?"
"Every year!"
"And he has never guessed you were watching him?"
"Good gracious me!--of course not."
"Don't you think, Aunt Priscilla, that you are--just a little--cruel?"
"Cruel--why--what do you mean?"
"I gave him your message, Aunt Priscilla."
"What message?"
"That 'to-night, the peaches were riper than ever they were.'"
"Oh!" said Miss Priscilla, and waited expectantly for Bellew tocontinue. But, as he was silent she glanced at him, and seeing himstaring at the moon, she looked at it, also. And after she had gazed forperhaps half a minute, as Bellew was still silent, she spoke, though ina very small voice indeed.
"And--what did--he say?"
"Who?" enquired Bellew.
"Why the--the Sergeant, to be sure."
"Well, he gave me to understand that a poor, old soldier with only onearm left him, must be content to stand aside, always and--hold hispeace, just because he was a poor, maimed, old soldier. Don't you thinkthat you have been--just a little cruel--all these years, AuntPriscilla?"
"Sometimes--one is cruel--only to be--kind!" she answered.
"Aren't the peaches ripe enough, after all, Aunt Priscilla?"
"Over-ripe!" she said bitterly, "Oh--they are over-ripe!"
"Is that all, Aunt Priscilla?"
"No," she answered, "no, there's--this!" and she held up her littlecrutch stick.
"Is that all, Aunt Priscilla?"
"Oh!--isn't--that enough?" Bellew rose. "Where are you going--What areyou going to do?" she demanded.
"Wait!" said he, smiling down at her perplexity, and so he turned, andcrossed to a certain corner of the orchard. When he came back he heldout a great, glowing peach towards her.
"You were quite right," he nodded, "it was so ripe that it fell at atouch."
But, as he spoke, she drew him down beside her in the shadow:
"Hush!" she whispered, "Listen!"
Now as they sat there, very silent,--faint and far-away upon the stillnight air, they heard a sound; a silvery, rhythmic sound, it was,--likethe musical clash of fairy cymbals which drew rapidly nearer, andnearer; and Bellew felt that Miss Priscilla's hand was trembling uponhis arm as she leaned forward, listening with a smile upon her partedlips, and a light in her eyes that was ineffably tender.
Nearer came the sound, and nearer, until, presently, now in moonlight,now in shadow, there strode a tall, martial figure in all the glory ofbraided tunic, and furred dolman, the three chevrons upon his sleeve,and many shining medals upon his breast,--a stalwart, soldierly figure,despite the one empty sleeve, who moved with the long, swinging stridethat only the cavalry-man can possess. Being come beneath a certainlatticed window, the Sergeant halted, and, next moment, his glitteringsabre flashed up to the salute; then, with it upon his shoulder, hewheeled, and began to march up and down, his spurs jingling, his sabregleaming, his dolman swinging, his sabre glittering, each time hewheeled; while Miss Priscilla leaning forward, watched him wide-eyed,and with hands tight clasped. Then, all at once,--with a littlefluttering sigh she rose.
Thus, the Sergeant as he marched to and fro, was suddenly aware of onewho stood in the full radiance of the moon,--and with one handoutstretched towards him. And now, as he paused, disbelieving his veryeyes, he saw that in her extended hand she held a great ripe peach.
"Sergeant!" she said, speaking almost in a whisper, "Oh Sergeant--won'tyou--take it?"
The heavy sabre thudded down into the grass, and he took a sudden steptowards her. But, even now, he hesitated, until, coming nearer yet, hecould look down into her eyes.
Then he spoke, and his voice was very hoarse, and uneven:
"Miss Priscilla?" he said, "Priscilla?--Oh, Priscilla!" And, with theword, he had fallen on his knees at her feet, and his strong, solitaryarm was folded close about her.
The Money Moon: A Romance Page 18
