Peregrine's Progress Part 23

"Certainly not! I mean that I shall take my departure just so soon as I find myself sufficiently recovered."

"Why, then," said she, compressing her lips and jutting her round chin at me in highly unfeminine fashion, "you'll have to jump or fly."

"What do you mean?"

"I shall take away the ladder!"

"You would never do such a thing!" quoth I, starting.

"Tush!" she retorted and, turning from me with a disdainful swirl of her short petticoat, began to descend into the depths below, seeing which, I scrambled to my feet and crossed to the trap, only to behold her standing beneath me, the ladder dragged quite out of my reach.

"Fly down, little bird!" she cried insolently. "Jump, Jack--jump!" and snapping finger and thumb at me, was gone before my anger might find vent in words.

Trapped and imprisoned thus, I presently came wandering disconsolately back to the hay-pile and lying there began to ponder upon the extreme unlovely deportment of this strange creature whose almost every speech and look and gesture outraged all my preconceived ideas of "the s.e.x", and bitterly to deplore my present situation.

Evening was falling apace but there was still sufficient light to show me something of the place wherein I lay and the orderly disorder that surrounded me. In one corner, upon a rough board that served for a shelf, stood six battered volumes flanked by divers pots and pans; against the wall near by hung a small, cracked mirror, while dangling from nails driven into the warped and twisted timbering of roof and walls hung a great variety of baskets, large and small and variously shaped, of rush or bent withies, many of which seemed in course of manufacture. These and many other objects I took casual heed of as I lay, but often my gaze would rove back to the six books standing so orderly amid the pots and pans; indeed, these so stirred my interest that I began to wonder what manner of books these might be and what should bring them in such a strange and desolate place, so that despite my aches and pains I felt much disposed to rise and investigate them, but in the end was content to lie and stare at them while the light failed and shadows deepened until, my eyes little serving me, I closed them and fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER XVI

IN WHICH I BEGIN TO APPRECIATE THE VIRTUES OF THE CHASTE G.o.dDESS

a.s.suredly never were the nostrils of mortal youth saluted with odour more inspiring and altogether more delectable than that which, wooing me from the drowsy arms of Morpheus, awoke me to growing consciousness of three several things, namely: light, movement and an extraordinarily poignant hunger.

Being awake, I firstly sniffed of this most appetising aroma, then lifting my head espied the girl busily combing her long hair before that small mirror I have mentioned. Now although the place was illumined by no more than a farthing dip, yet this was sufficient to wake many fugitive gleams and coppery lights in these long, rippling tresses, so that I lay for some time content to watch as she combed with smooth-sweeping motions of arm and wrist; but suddenly this arm grew still and I knew that she was viewing me through this silky curtain as it hung.

"Well?" she demanded suddenly, and putting back the hair from her face, stood looking down at me with her sombre, half-sullen gaze.

"Well?" said I, sitting up. And now, beholding her face framed thus in her glossy tresses, the wide, low brow, the deep eyes, the delicate modelling of nose and chin, the vivid lips, I realised that she was beautiful--beautiful as any fabled G.o.ddess or dryad; and what with this, the rippling splendour of her hair that covered her like a garment, the deep silence of this remote solitude, there rushed upon me a sense of such intimacy that I caught my breath and averted my gaze instinctively, awed by, yet delighting in, this sudden consciousness of her beauty.

"Well," said she again, "d'ye smell it?"

Starting, I glanced up, to find her busied with the comb again and immediately recognised that here was neither G.o.ddess nor dryad but merely a well-shaped, comely young woman with extraordinarily long hair; which fact established, my hunger (momentarily forgotten) returned with keener pang than ever.

"Are ye going to sleep again?" she enquired, finding me silent.

"No!"

"Well, don't you smell it?"

"Pray what is it?"

"A duck as I be roasting to our supper."

"Duck!" I repeated, mouth watering. "I have breathed its enticement ever since I awoke."

"Wi' plenty o' sage and onion, a new loaf, and cheese!" she added, with a nod of her shapely head at each item, "unless," said she, eyeing me askance, "you're minded to starve--as you said?"

At this I grew very despondent and, sighing, watched her twist her glossy hair into two long braids and tie up the ends with small ribbands which I thought a very quaint and pretty fashion.

She now bade me help her to set up the supper table, which proved to be a weather-beaten half-door propped upon baskets. This done, she took the candle and descended below, I following; and here, within an old cauldron pierced with many holes, burned a fire, above which was a covered pot whence emanated that fragrance I have already mentioned, but stronger and more savoury than ever now, so that my hunger was wrought to a pa.s.sionate yearning, more especially when, having removed the pot from the fire, she lifted the cover. Ascending to the loft she p.r.o.nounced supper all ready and bade me sit down and eat. But this I could not do for my pride's sake as I freely confessed, which seemed to surprise her not a little.

"Well then," said she, perceiving me thus determined, "you may eat if you are truly hungry, because none o' the money I prigs pays for this duck."

So down I sat forthwith and never in all my life enjoyed any meal quite so much, as I told her.

"Well, then, eat it!" said she in her ungracious, half-sullen manner.

"I mean to," I retorted, "though I must say you are a wonderful cook."

At this she merely scowled at me and I did not venture another remark until the sharper pangs of hunger were appeased, then, sighing, I spoke again. "Yes, I repeat you are a wonderful cook! But then everything seems so wonderful to me--this place, for instance--so strange and so solitary!"

"It is!" she answered, leaning her chin on her hands and staring at me across the table. "That's why I runs away here to hide from the _chals_ or when in any trouble wi' old Azor--yes, 'tis a very lonely place, which do make me wonder if you be afeard o' ghosts?"

"No--that is, I don't think so--if such things do really exist. But why do you ask?"

"A woman was murdered here once an' they say her spirit walks, so there's few people dare venter here by day an' never a one by night, an' that's why 'tis so lonely an' that's why I loves the place."

"Then you don't believe in ghosts?"

"Well I sees strange things among the Romans; there's the _dukkerin_ and _dukkeripen_, an' the Walkers o' the Heath.

They're a strange folk, the Romans--'specially old Azor!"

"But you are not afraid--never have been?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head slowly, "I've never been afeard of anything or any one yet--except old Azor." And beholding her as she said this, observing the proud cast of her features, the lofty carriage of her head, her compelling eyes, resolute chin and the n.o.ble lines of her form, I knew she spoke truth and began to doubt if she were no more than a mere comely, well-shaped young female, after all.

"Pray, what is your name?" I enquired.

"Anna."

"Indeed it is a pretty name, though you are more like my conception of Diana."

"Who's she?"

"She was a young G.o.ddess."

"A G.o.ddess?" repeated my companion in her deep, soft voice, "that don't sound much like me."

"A G.o.ddess, very brave and strong, who despised all men and feared none!"

"That does sound more like me! Though I thought all G.o.ddesses were beautiful?" she added wistfully.

"So they were," I nodded, "but how do you know this?"