Peg O' My Heart Part 71

"Anyway, mater, it's a go! I'll do it. It will take a bit of doin', but I'll do it."

"Bless you, my boy," said the overjoyed mother, "Bless you."

As they came out of the little arbour it seemed as if Fate had changed the whole horizon for the Chichester family.

Mrs. Chichester was happy in the consciousness that her home and her family would lie free from the biting grip of debt.

Alaric, on the other hand, seemed to have all the sunlight suddenly stricken out of his life. Still, it was his DUTY, and duty was in the Chichester motto.

As mother and son walked slowly toward the house, they looked up, and gazing through a tiny cas.e.m.e.nt of the little Mauve-Room was Peg, her face white and drawn.

Alaric shivered again as he thought of his sacrifice.

CHAPTER XIV

ALARIC TO THE RESCUE

Mrs. Chichester went up to the Mauve-Room a little later and found Peg in the same att.i.tude, looking out of the window--thinking.

"Good morning, Margaret," she began, and her tone was most conciliatory, not to say almost kindly.

"Good mornin'," replied Peg dully.

"I am afraid I was a little harsh with you last night," the old lady added. It was the nearest suggestion of an apology Mrs. Chichester had ever made.

"Ye'll never be again," flashed back Peg sharply.

"That is exactly what I was saying to Alaric. I shall never be harsh with you again. Never!"

If Mrs. Chichester thought the extraordinary unbending would produce an equally, Christian-like spirit in Peg, she was unhappily mistaken. Peg did not vary her tone or hear att.i.tude. Both were absolutely uncompromising.

"Ye'll have to go to New York if ye ever want to be harsh with me again. That is where ye'll have to go. To New York."

"You are surely not going to leave us just on account of a few words of correction?" reasoned Mrs. Chichester.

"I am," replied Peg, obstinately. "An' ye've done all the correctin'

ye'll ever do with me."

"Have you thought of all you are giving up?"

"I thought all through the night of what I am going back to. And I am going back to it as soon as Mr. Hawkes comes. And now, if ye don't mind, I'd rather be left alone. I have a whole lot to think about, an'

they're not very happy thoughts, ayther--an' I'd rather be by meself--if ye plaze."

There was a final air of dismissal about Peg that astonished and grieved the old lady. How their places had changed in a few hours!

Yesterday it was Mrs. Chichester who commanded and Peg who obeyed--SOMETIMES.

Now, she was being sent out of a room in her own house, and by her poor little niece.

As she left the room Mrs. Chichester thought sadly of the condition misfortune had placed her in. She brightened as she realised that they had still one chance--through Alaric--of recouping, even slightly, the family fortunes. The thought flashed through Mrs. Chichester's mind of how little Margaret guessed what an honour was about to be conferred upon her through the n.o.bility of her son in sacrificing himself on the altar of duty. The family were indeed repaying good for evil--extending the olive branch--in tendering their idol as a peace-offering at the feet of the victorious Peg.

Meanwhile, that young lady had suddenly remembered two things--firstly--that she must not return to her father in anything Mrs. Chichester had given her. Out of one of the drawers she took the little old black jacket and skirt and the flat low shoes and the red-flowered hat. Secondly, it darted through her mind that she had left Jerry's present to her in its familiar hiding-place beneath a corner of the carpet. Not waiting to change into the shabby little dress, she hurried downstairs into the empty living-room, ran across, and there, sure enough, was her treasure undisturbed. She took it up and a pang went through her heart as it beat in on her that never again would its donor discuss its contents with her. This gentleman of t.i.tle, masquerading as a farmer, who had led her on to talk of herself, of her country and of her father, just to amuse himself. The blood surged up to her temples as she thought how he must have laughed at her when he was away from her: though always when with her he showed her the gravest attention, and consideration, and courtesy. It was with mingled feelings she walked across the room, the book open in her hand, her eyes scanning some of the familiar and well-remembered lines.

As she reached the foot of the stairs, Alaric came in quickly through the windows.

"h.e.l.lo! Margaret!" he cried cheerfully, though his heart was beating nervously at the thought of what he was about to do--and across his features there was a sickly pallor.

Peg turned and looked at him, at the same moment hiding the book behind her back.

"What have you got there, all tucked away?" he ventured as the opening question that was to lead to the all-important one.

Peg held it up for him to see: "The only thing I'm takin' away that I didn't bring with me."

"A book, eh?"

"That's what it is--a book;" and she began to go upstairs.

"Taking it AWAY?" he called up to her.

"That's what I'm doin'," and she still went on up two more steps.

Alaric made a supreme effort and followed her.

"You're not really goin' away--cousin?" he gasped.

"I am," replied Peg. "An' ye can forget the relationship the minnit the cab drives me away from yer door!"

"Oh, I say, you know," faltered Alaric. "Don't be cruel!"

"Cruel, is it?" queried Peg in amazement. "Sure, what's there cruel in THAT, will ye tell me?"

She looked at him curiously.

For once all Alaric's confidence left him. His tongue was dry and clove to the roof of his mouth. Instead of conferring a distinction on the poor little creature he felt almost as if he were about to ask her a favour.

He tried to throw a world of tenderness into his voice as he spoke insinuatingly:

"I thought we were goin' to be such good little friends," and he looked almost languishingly at her.

For the first time Peg began to feel some interest. Her eyes winked as she said:

"DID ye? Look at that, now. I didn't."

"I say, you know," and he went up on the same step with her: "I say--really ye mustn't let what the mater said last night upset ye!

Really, ye mustn't!"