Peregrine's Progress Part 97

"Took or pur-loined it from the young 'ooman Nancy Price, sir, according to 'er own ewidence, as stated to me in my little office this mornin'--an' her a-veepin' all over my papers, pore la.s.s! Aha!"

exclaimed Mr. Shrig, still busied on his researches. "He's got summat in this 'ere 'ind pocket as I can't come at--p'raps you'll obleege me by heavin' Windictiveness over a bit, sir? Why, never mind, sir--done it myself--"

"How--did the young woman come by this letter?"

"'T is in ewidence as years ago she was maid to a lady--now Mrs.

Vere-Manville, it was give her by that same. What, are ye goin', sir?

Werry good, this ain't exactly a cheery spot at present. Will you be so obleegin' as to send a cart an', say, a 'urdle for these ere birds o' mine?"

And so I left him, sitting between his "birds" whose flying days were done, busily making notes in his little book, very like some industrious clerk posting his ledger for the day.

Reaching the "Bull" Inn, I despatched cart and hurdle as desired and, ordering rooms for the night, shut myself therein to escape the general hubbub and horrified questioning my news had called forth. And here, remote from all and sundry, I unfolded the letter a dead man's hand had opened and read these words:

Knowing you vile, I should have grieved for you, pitied you, but loved you still. Believing me vile, you are pitiless, cold, and with no mercy in you. Indeed and you would have shamed me! But true love, being of Heaven, knows no shame and can never die. Oh, you poor, blind Peregrine.

TO MY PATIENT AND KINDLY READER

Here do I make an end of this Second Book, wherein shall be found overmuch of blood, of gloom and shadow, of misunderstanding and heartbreak engendered of my own perfervid imagination; and glad am I and more than glad to have done with it.

And here, since the longest road must end, since after storm and tempest must come peace and heavenly calm, and because "though heaviness endure for a night yet joy cometh in the morning"--here do I begin this Third, last, and shortest Book which those enduring Readers who have borne with and followed me thus far may see is inscribed

DAWN

_Book Three_

DAWN

CHAPTER I

CONCERNING ONE TOM MARTIN, AN OSTLER

I sat upon a hay pile in that same shady corner of the yard behind the "Chequers" inn where once had stood a weather-beaten cart drawn by a four-footed philosopher called Diogenes.

But to-day this corner was empty save for myself, and the yard also except for two or three wains or country waggons and a man in a sleeved waistcoat who chewed upon a straw and stared at the inn, the waggons and myself with a faded, lack-l.u.s.tre eye and sniffed; so frequently indeed, and so loudly that at last it obtruded itself upon my notice.

"You have a very bad cold!" said I.

"I ain't!" he retorted gloomily.

"Yet you sniff very loud."

"Con-sti-tootional!" quoth he. "My feyther done it afore me, an' 'is feyther afore 'im, 'an 'is feyther afore 'im an'--but wot of it, my chap? Can't a cove sniff if so minded?"

"Certainly!" I answered.

"I ain't said nothink to you about wallerin' in that theer 'ay--'ave I? Very well! Why can't you let a man sniff in peace?"

"Very well," said I, "sniff!"

"I will!" said he and immediately did so, louder than ever.

"Astonishing!" said I.

"A cove can sniff without a cold if so be 't is 'is natur' so to do, can't 'e?"

"So I perceive."

"An' 't is a free country an' such so bein', a man's at liberty to sniff or no, an' no offence give or took, ain't 'e? Very well, then!"

"Very well indeed!" I nodded. "I have never heard a man sniff better or louder--"

"You leave my sniffin' alone an' I'll leave you alone--"

"I hope you will," said I.

"Well, I ain't so sure as I will; you wags your chin too much to please me--an' let me tell ye, bold an' p'inted, I don't like the c.o.c.k o' your eye! So s'pose you stand on your pins--"

"Well," I answered, stretching myself more comfortably, "let us suppose so--what then?"

"Why, then, my covey, I'll knock ye off your pins again--prompt an'

j'yful!"

"Under those circ.u.mstances I much prefer to remain as I am."

"Why, then you're a weevil--a worm, ah--an' what's more, a weevily worm at that, an' I spits on ye!"

Here, perceiving that he was about to put his heinous threat into execution, I arose.

"Enough!" quoth I, b.u.t.toning my coat. "Now let Olympus shake, the caverns of ocean roar, the round earth tremble! If you have fists, prepare to use them now--come on, pestiferous peasant, most contumacious clod, and 'd.a.m.ned be he that first cries Hold--enough'!"

"Well, drown'd me!" exclaimed the ostler, staring. "Drown'd me if I ever 'eard sich 'orrid talk in all my days, an' I've groomed for a earl--ah, an' a markis afore now!"

Having said which, he clenched his fists, squared his shoulders and launched himself at me like a charging bull. But profiting by Jessamy Todd's many lessons and painful instruction, I danced nimbly aside, tapped him with my left, spun round to meet his second rush, checked him with a flush hit, swung my right beneath his chin and next moment saw him sitting upon the cobblestones, legs wide-straddled, gaping about him with a vacant air.

"'Oly 'eavens!" he murmured, glancing from the cloudless sky to me and back again. "An' sich a whipper-snapper--'oly 'eavens!"