Peregrine's Progress Part 80

"Aye, there are so, sir--coveys of 'em, very fine feathers an' pretty as pictoors t' look at but--"

"Ah!" said I, as he paused, "that kind?"

"Aye, sir, if ye know what I mean."

"I do! Raydon Manor seems haunted in many ways."

"Aye, sir, an' this is very sure--if Innocence ever goes in, it never comes out!"

Thus we talked, George the landlord and I, while his pretty, buxom wife bustled quietly to and fro or vanished into the mysteries of her dairy, whence came the creak of churn, the c.h.i.n.k of pot or pan and suchlike homely sounds where her two trim maids laughed and chattered over their labours.

It was a glorious afternoon and, at my suggestion, George brought me into a garden behind the inn where flowers rioted, filling the air with their mingled perfumes, and so to a well-stocked orchard beyond, whence came the warm odour of ripening fruit.

"You have a very beautiful home, George."

"An' all thanks to my little old woman, sir. I were a soldier once an'

a tur'ble drinker, but Mary--Lord, sir, 'tis wonnerful how good a good woman can be an' how bad a bad 'un can be--though she's generally made bad, I've noticed! Damme, sir, axin' your parding but damme notwithstanding, there's some men as I'd like to 'ave wrigglin' on the end of a bagnet!" And he turned to scowl fiercely towards a stretch of dark woodland that gloomed beyond a rolling stretch of sunny meadow land.

"The sentiment is a little b.l.o.o.d.y, George," said I, glancing at this stretch of dark wood, "but under the circ.u.mstances, I think it does you credit. And now, seeing I have a full hour to wait for Mr.

Vere-Manville, I will take a little stroll and waste no more of your time;" and smiling down his protestations to the contrary, I sauntered off through the golden afternoon.

To-morrow the term of my patient waiting was to be accomplished; Diana was coming back to me! At this thought there rushed over me such an eager, pa.s.sionate joy that my breath caught and I paused to lean across a gate, endeavouring to picture her to myself as she now was, 'a changed Diana and yet the same', even as she had written. And as I stood thus, down to me through the sunny air came the song of a mounting lark who, as if knowing my thought, seemed striving to sing forth something of the ineffable happiness that thrilled me. The song ended, I went on again, walking slowly, my head bowed, lost in a happy dream. And presently I found myself walking amid trees, through an ever-deepening shadow, and, looking up, saw I had entered the pine wood. For a moment I hesitated, minded to turn back into the sunshine, then I went on, picking my way among these gloomy trees, the pine needles soft beneath my tread; thus, since there was no wind, I walked in silence broken only by the faint jingle of my spurs and the rustle of my advance, a silence that affected me with a vague unease. There seemed something stealthy in this uncanny stillness so that I grew stealthy also and set myself to keep my spurs from jingling, for unseen eyes seemed to be watching me. The deeper I penetrated this dismal wood, the darker it grew, and I advanced, cautious and silent, and with a vague sense of expectancy though of what I could not determine. With the glad sunshine my joyousness had vanished, in its stead came again doubt and foreboding with my devil that gibbered upon my heels; demons and evil things seemed all about me.

But suddenly I came out upon a narrow track or rather footpath and though the kindly sun contrived to send down a fugitive shaft ever and anon, yet my depression was in no wise abated and I began to hurry my steps, anxious to be out of these dismal shadows. All at once I halted, for before me was a lofty wall and I saw that the path led to a low-arched doorway or postern, a small door but of great apparent strength, that seemed to scowl upon me between its deep b.u.t.tresses.

And now as I gazed there grew within me an indefinable feeling, a growing certainty of something very threatening and sinister about this door, and turning, I hasted back along the path, turning neither to right nor left, hurrying as from something beyond expression evil.

Nor did I stop or glance back until I was out in the pure sunshine and the cosy inn of the "Soaring Lark" seemed to smile at me beyond broad meadows, blinking its bright cas.e.m.e.nts like so many bright eyes in cheery welcome. But even so I shivered, for the gloomy shadow of the wood seemed all about me still and therewith a growing depression that would not be banished but held me in thrall despite sunshine and cheery inn. What was it that I feared? I asked myself, and why--why--why?

I found Anthony awaiting me, but even his cheer presence failed to dispel my gloom. And so in a while, my horse being ready, we set out for London with hearty "G.o.d-speeds" from George and his wife Mary. But all the way back, my mind still laboured with these same perplexing questions:

What was it that I feared? And why--why--why?

And thereto I found no answer.

CHAPTER IV

OF A SCARABAEUS RING AND A GOSSAMER VEIL

"Ye're a little pale--yes, a trifle haggard, Perry, but there's nothing like a romantic pallor to attract the feminine regard and captivate the female heart, my boy--I'm married and I know! But your dress is a thought too sombre, I think, considering your youth, though I'll admit it suits you and there's a devilish tragic melancholy Danish-air about ye as should nail the female orb--"

"Don't be an a.s.s, Anthony. How is my cravat?"

"Work of art, begad! How are my pantaloons, Perry? My tailor's made 'em too loose, the d.a.m.ned scoundrel. I'm wrinkled like a rhinoceros, by heaven! Keep your eye on 'em when I bend--"

"My dear Anthony," said I, "if they were any tighter you couldn't bend--"

"Well, my coat, Perry--how is it behind?"

"Admirable!"

"Feels like a sack, demmit! My Loveliness has the eye of a hawk, you'll understand--hasn't seen me for a whole month--nothing like first impressions, begad. Feels like an accursed sack, I tell you--"

"Gentlemen, the carriage awaits!" murmured Clegg from the doorway.

"What--already?" cried Anthony, clapping on his hat and reaching for his surtout.

"You forget we're Lord Wyvelstoke's privileged guests.--Come, Anthony!" and I led the way down to the carriage.

"Ain't you nervous, Perry?" enquired my friend, as we rolled smoothly away.

"No."

"Queer fish--I am!" said he, fidgeting with his cravat.

"You're deuced cool, devilish serene and enigmatical at times, like your uncle Jervas."

"You flatter me, Tony."

"Devil a bit--and this coat of mine feels like a--what the devil are we stopping for?"

We had reached the top of St. James's Street and glancing through the window, I saw our progress blocked momentarily by converging traffic; I was about to lean back in my seat again when my careless glance was arrested by an elegant closed chaise going in the opposite direction; the light was still good, and thus I saw this for a black-bodied chaise picked out in yellow with red wheels. The window was down and thence fluttered a lady's scarf or veil, a delicate gossamer thing spangled with gold stars; as I watched, from the dim interior of the chaise came a woman's white hand to gather up this glittering scarf, a shapely hand sparkling with gems, amongst which I saw one shaped like a scarabaeus; then the chaise rolled away and was gone.

"What the dooce are you staring at, Perry?"

"Nothing!" I answered, frowning. "Nothing!"

His lordship's house was ablaze with lights and, though we were so early, in the street immediately before it was a crowd that pushed and jostled as we mounted the carpeted steps and were ushered into the lofty hall. Here, the footmen having relieved us of our hats and coats, we found the sedate Atkinson as gravely imperturbable as I remembered him two years ago, who acknowledged my greeting with sedate smile and grave obeisance and brought us forthwith to a chamber where I found Lord Wyvelstoke in confabulation with my two uncles.

At our entrance they rose, and his lordship limped forward to welcome us; and looking upon his slender, elegant figure, beholding his impa.s.sive face with its air of serene and conscious power, I warmed to the kindness of his smile, even as I had done two years ago.

Our greetings over, his lordship slipped his arm in mine and led me apart.

"Well, Peregrine," said he, with his old, keen look, "I perceive your two years of self-sacrifice have not been in vain; you are grown in every sense. And to-night unselfishness shall have its full reward.

To-night, Peregrine, I render back to you your Diana, but a Diana glorified--a woman, and one who has endeared herself to me by her great-hearted and n.o.ble qualities. In her is nothing paltry, education has not stunted or narrowed the soul of her. She has been faithful to her task for your sake and faithful to you for Love's sake. By your unselfishness she has indeed become all that we hoped--and more, one to be proud of. But I grow garrulous in her praise--go to her and see for yourself. She is awaiting you in her boudoir with Mrs.

Vere-Manville."

So saying, his lordship rang and the silent Atkinson appeared, who led us up a wide stairway and so to a dainty chamber where, bowing, he left us.

A faint perfume was in the air, elusive but sweetly intimate. Upon an ottoman lay a fan and a pair of lace mittens.

"Begad," murmured Anthony, sniffing, "there's nothing like perfume to give a fellow palpitations, and palpitations always make my cravat too tight--devilish thing's choking me! A good woman, Perry, can be the most doocedly alluring, devilish engaging, utterly provoking creature in creation--far more so than--t' other sort. I'm married and I know!"

"Yes," said I, looking down at the discarded fan and deeply stirred by the elusive fragrance.