Peregrine's Progress Part 75

CHAPTER II

INTRODUCING JASPER SHRIG, A BOW STREET RUNNER

"Ham, Peregrine?"

"Thank you, no, Anthony!" said I, shuddering slightly. "But where are the others? Asleep still?"

"Gone, Perry. At sight of this ham Jerny shied like a wild colt, Devenham moaned, and together they tottered forth into the bleak world. Did you say ham, Perry?"

"I--did--not!"

"Beef then--beef looks excellent! Beef?"

"Horrible!" I exclaimed, turning my back on the breakfast table. "Eat if you can, Tony, but talk you must and shall."

"Of last night, Peregrine?"

"Of Diana. I've scarcely had a word with you since your arrival."

"Which was last night."

"How is she, Anthony? Is she indeed handsomer--lovelier? Did she seem happy? Did she talk about--did she--happen to mention--"

"She did, Perry, talked of you frequently, very much so! Won't you try a cup of coffee and a crust--"

"Tell me how--where you first met her."

"It was at the amba.s.sador's ball and mark you, Perry, there were some uncommonly fine women there, though none of 'em, no, damme, not one to compare with my Loveliness, of course--"

"You mean Barbara?"

"Of course. Well, my boy, we'd made our bow and here was Loveliness worrying in her pretty fashion because my cravat had shifted or some such, and here was I pulling at the thing and saying, 'Yes, dear,' and making it worse when, as the poet says, 'amid this glittering throng of lovely women and gallant men' my charmed eye alighted upon a haughty beauty, a ravishing creature condescending to be worshipped by a crowd of fawning slaves, civilian, soldier and sailor of all stations and ranks, from purple-faced admirals and general officers to pink, downy-whiskered subalterns. 'Egad, Loveliness,' says I, jerking at my cravat, 'what asinine fools brave men and gallant gentlemen can make of themselves for lovely woman--look yonder!' 'Where?' says she.

'There!' says I, 'the dark, dazzling beauty yonder!' So Loveliness looks, and at that very moment Beauty breaks from the abject circle of her fawning slaves and comes running. 'Diana!' cries Loveliness.

'Barbara!' cries Beauty, and they are in each other's arms--and there you are, Perry. Astonishing how they love each other. So when I left to attend this birthday of yours, Loveliness must stay with her Diana--I miss her most d.a.m.nably!"

"Has she so many admirers?" I sighed.

"Hordes of 'em, Perry! Troops, squadrons, regiments, begad! So has my Loveliness, for that matter."

"And are you never jealous?"

"Devil a bit, dear fellow. Though," said he, slowly clenching his right hand into a powerful fist and scowling down at it, "given the occasion--I could be, Perry, y-e-s, madly, brutally--I could kill--do murder, I believe. Oh, pshaw! My Barbara is so sweet, so purely a thing of heaven that sometimes I--I hate myself for not having been better--more worthy. Women are so infinitely better than ourselves, or so infinitely--worse. And she sent you a letter--here it is!"

"A letter? Diana? Where?"

"A snack of ham or beef first, Perry, love letters don't go over-well on empty stomachs--" But here I caught the letter from him and sat with it in fingers that shook a little, staring at the superscription.

"Her writing has improved amazingly!" said I.

"Dear fellow," he answered, sharpening the carving knife quite unnecessarily, "go away and read it, seek some quiet spot and leave me to eat in peace."

"Thanks, Tony," said I gratefully, and hastened into the next room forthwith, there to read and re-read the superscription, to commit all those tender follies natural to lovers and finally to break the seal.

DEAR, DEAR MY PEREGRINE: Very soon we shall see each other, and this thought makes me tremble with alternate happiness and dread. Yes, dread, my Peregrine, because these years have changed me in many ways--oh, shall I please you as I am now? Will you love me as you did when I was only your humble Diana of the Silent Places? For Peregrine, you loved me then so very much, so truly and with such wonderful unselfishness that I am afraid you may not love the Diana of to-day quite so well as the Diana of two years ago. But dear Peregrine, know that my heart is quite--quite unchanged; you will always be the one man of all others, the Peregrine whose generous love lifted me high above my girlish dreams but never oh, never any higher than his own heart. So Peregrine, love me when I come back to you or these long two years will have been lived in vain and I shall run away back to the Silent Places and die an old maid.

Perhaps I shall seem strange when we meet, but this will only be because I fear you a little and doubt a little how you may feel towards this new Diana--so love me, let me see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. It is so much easier to write than to say, so I will write it again--Love me, Peregrine, love me because I am yours--now and always.

DIANA.

Having read this letter I laid it down and took from an inner pocket another letter, somewhat worn and frayed by over-much handling, which bore these words, smudged and blotted a little, though written with painful care.

DEAR PERRYGREEN: Your letter has made me cry dredfully. I cannot bear to think of you so lonly because I am lonly to. I cannot bear to think of you on your nees I would rather think of you as I saw you last so brave and determined. Pray for me as I pray for you only don't rite to me or I shall run back to you because I am not very brave and want you so. O dear Perrygreen always love

YOUR DIANA.

"You're looking confoundedly glum, Perry; I hope the _billet_ is quite sufficiently _doux_?"

"Quite--indeed, quite!" said I, starting out of my reverie. "It is a letter such as only Diana could have written--"

"Then your woe undoubtedly proceeds from stomach; for the emptiness of same I prescribe ham, shall we say mingled--judiciously blended--with beef--"

"Abhorrent thought!" I exclaimed. At this moment, after a discreet knock on the door, my valet Clegg entered.

"Sir," said he in his soft and toneless voice, "the groom is below; shall you ride or drive this morning?"

"Neither!" I answered, whereupon Clegg bowed and withdrew.

"Excellent!" nodded Anthony. "Nothing like walking to make an empty stomach aware of its vacuity. By the way, queer article that Clegg fellow of yours--face like a mask! Where did you pick him up?"

"I don't remember. He had excellent references, I believe. Why do you ask?"

"Fancy I've seen him before. Come, let us adventure forth in search of your appet.i.te."

To us in the hall came Clegg to bring our hats and canes.

"Were you ever in the service of a Captain Danby?" enquired Anthony, his keen gaze on Clegg's impa.s.sive face.

"Yes, sir, I was valet to Captain Marmaduke Danby--two years ago."

"I saw you with him once at a small inn called 'The Jolly Waggoner.'"

Clegg bowed deferentially, but when he looked up his pale eyes seemed to glow strangely and his pallid cheek was slightly flushed.