Our Admirable Betty Part 30

"Nay, he's very secret."

"Pro-digious!" exclaimed the Sergeant, his eyes shining. "His honour was ever a great hand at surprises--ambuscades d'ye see, madam--ambushments, my lady, sudden onfalls and the like, and for leading a forlorn hope there was none to compare."

"You mean he has fought in a battle, Sergeant?"

"A battle, mam!" The Sergeant sighed and shook reproachful head.

"Twenty and three pitched battles, my lady and twelve sieges, not to mention sorties, outpost skirmishes and the like! 'Fighting d'Arcy' he was called, madam! Sixteen wounds, my lady, seven of 'em bullet and the rest steel----"

"Heavens!" exclaimed my lady, "I marvel there is any of him left!"

"What is left, my lady, is all man! There never was such a man! There never will be."

"'Fighting d'Arcy'!" she repeated. "It sounds so unlike--and looks quite impossible--see yonder!" And she turned towards where, afar off, the object of their talk limped towards them his head bent studiously above an open book from which he raised his eyes, ever and anon, as if weighing some abstruse pa.s.sage; thus he presently espied my lady and, shutting the book, thrust it into his pocket and hastened towards her.

Hereupon the Sergeant saluted, wheeled and marched away, yet not before he had noted the glad light in the Major's grey eyes and, from a proper distance, had seen him clasp my lady's white hand and kiss it fervently. Instantly the Sergeant fell to the "double" until he was out of sight, then he halted suddenly, shook his head, smacked hand to thigh and laughed:

"All I say is, as there ain't, there never was, there never will be a word for it--not one!"

CHAPTER XVIII

HOW MAJOR D'ARCY RECOVERED HIS YOUTH

So the Major kissed my lady's hand, kissed it not "on one extreme finger-tip," but holding it in masterful clasp, kissed it on rosy palm and dimpled knuckles, kissed it again and again with all the ardour of a boy of twenty; and my lady sighed and--let him kiss his fill.

She wore her rustic attire but her simple gown was enriched here and there, with the daintiest of lace as was her snowy mob-cap; and surely never did rustic beauty blush more rosily or look with eyes more shy than she when at last he raised his head:

"Good morrow to your worship!" said she softly, "I trust your honour slept well?"

"No!" he answered, speaking with a strange, new vehemence, "I scarce did close my eyes all night for thought of you----"

"Of me?"

"And of my--my folly! I looked for you this morning--I wished to tell you ... I ... I----" Seeing him thus at a loss, my lady smiled a little maliciously, then hasted to his relief:

"This morning?" said she gently, "I was making more b.u.t.ter for my poor folk--with the aid of my lord of Alvaston, Captain West, and Sir Jasper. But they proved so awkward with the churn that Sir Benjamin must needs show 'em how 'twas done. And after he made much of my rhubarb wine and would have them all taste it and insisted on the Captain drinking three gla.s.ses--poor man!"

"Wherefore 'poor'?"

"Why, sir, 'tis truly excellent wine--to look at, but I fear 'tis perhaps a trifle---sourish!" Here she laughed merrily, grew solemn and sighed, glancing shyly at the Major who stood, head bowed, fumbling with one of the gold b.u.t.tons of the plum-coloured coat.

"I--trust your ladyship is well after your--your fright of yesterday,"

said he at last.

"My ladyship is very well, sir," she sighed, "though vapourish!"

"Which means?"

"Perhaps I--mourn my lost divinity."

Her tone was light, but he saw that her lips quivered as she averted her head.

"Betty," he cried impulsively, "I was a fool! All night long I've burned with anger at my folly, for I do know you could never be aught but pure and maidenly no matter what you--you chanced to wear. So do I come craving your forgiveness."

"O Major--Major Jack," she sighed, leaning towards him, all glowing tenderness, "first hear me say you spoke me truth, it--it was indeed--unworthy--a hoyden trick! But I have trod a different world to you--a world of careless gaiety and idle chatter, where nought is serious, reverence unknown and love itself a pastime. So I have loved no man--save my brother Charles for we've been lonely all our days--nay, Major John!" for he had caught her hand to his lips again.

"And I dared think you unmaidenly!" he murmured, in bitter self-reproach.

"So would the mother I never knew had she seen me as--as poor Aunt Belinda saw me--and yet--I vow 'twas monstrous laughable!" and my lady hovered between laughter and tears.

"Am I forgiven?" he pleaded.

"Aye, most fully!"

"Why then--to prove it--will you ... would you----"

"Well, your honour?" she questioned humbly.

"Would you permit me to show you the rose-garden?"

"But I have seen it!"

"Aye to be sure, so you have!" he answered, a little dashed. "Though the roses were scarce in bloom then."

"Truly I do love roses, Major Jack----"

"And they are in the full splendour of their beauty----"

"But--this wall?" she demurred. "And ... no ladder!"

He reached up eager arms. "O Major John!" she exclaimed and drew back, blushing as rosily as the shyest maid that ever tripped in dairy.

"'Twould be so--so extreme unmaidenly--wouldn't it?" The Major flushed and his arms dropped. "Though indeed I--do love roses!" she sighed.

The Major glanced up eagerly. "But 'tis so awkward and someone might see----"

"Not a soul!" he a.s.sured her.

"Then ... if you'll turn your head a moment ... and are sure none can spy ... and will be vastly careful ... and are quite, quite sure you can manage----"

It was managed almost as she spoke, he with an a.s.sured adroitness, she with such gracious ease that, in the same moment they were walking side by side over the smooth turf, as calm and unruffled as any two people ever were or will be. "'Tis a dear orchard, this!" she sighed, stopping to pat the rough bark of a huge, gnarled apple-tree.

"'Twas here I first saw you," said he.

"Stealing your fruit!" she nodded.

"It seems long ago."

"And yet 'tis but a few short weeks."