Читать книгу The Way Beyond - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 10

Meanwhile young Richard, astride his favourite hunter, "Saladin," was riding by leafy ways; but although the spirited animal bore him gallantly, though the heavens were bright above him and the glad earth green below, his youthful brow (so very like his father's) was dark with anxious thought, his long-lashed eyes (so wonderfully like his lovely mother's) were troubled, and his firm-lipped mouth showed grim.

He went by lanes and grassy tracks, a devious course that he followed unerringly until it brought him at last to a small wood, its grassy depths pierced, here and there, by shafts of sunny radiance; a remote place and very silent except for the soft rustle of leafage and the sleepy call of some bird.

At the edge of this wood Richard drew rein to glance about and listen eagerly; then he consulted his watch, sighed impatiently and, drooping in the saddle, became lost again in thought. And yet his ears were quick to catch the sound of her step, light though it was, for lifting his head suddenly, he turned and seeing her, forgot all else.

Tall was she, yet not too tall, and moulded on splendid lines from shapely feet to the braids of bronze-red hair that crowned her glowing beauty; a loveliness that glowed indeed with a quick, generous vitality, for her deep, soft eyes, widely-spaced, shone beneath their low-arching brows, her cheeks were flushed, her tender-curving lips vividly red; these, with the kindly old sun to glorify all the warm, voluptuous beauty of her, she seemed to young Richard a radiant goddess rather than mere human creature very much in love. And no wonder!

Mutely they gazed upon each other in an ecstasy beyond words, look answering look so eloquently that joy grew to a pain at last and, trembling, he murmured her name:

"Rosemary!"

Then he was out of the saddle, had caught her hands and feeling they were trembling also, kissed them.

"Oh, Richard!" she whispered. "Oh my dear ... can you ... ah, do you love me so?"

"More than my life, Rosemary! So now ... may I kiss you?"

"And this is why I could ... worship you," she sighed, touching his dark hair very tenderly, "to plead for what you might take! But first ... dear love ... have you told them? Does Sir Peter know that we ... that you are going to marry me?"

Now at this, Richard's arms fell from her, and stepping back, he looked at her with eyes more troubled than ever.

"No," he answered, bowing head almost guiltily. "No, not yet. Ah, believe me," he cried, seeing her stricken look, "I meant to, dear heart, I tried to speak of it this morning but couldn't ... somehow."

"Oh, Richard—are you afraid to speak?" she questioned distressfully. "My dear, are you ... ashamed of me?"

"No, no! Ah, never that!" he cried passionately. "How can you think me so vile, so contemptible? You know I love you ... adore you ... And God knows I cannot live without you, Rosemary, and won't! I would have told my father all this, indeed I began to, but he ... oh he's so difficult, so damnably stately and remote that he seems of another world and age. But I shall have it out with him to-night, I swear it,—and then ... marry you whatever he says."

"And my dear lady, your mother?"

"Ah, God bless her! Rosemary, I told her and the sweet angel blessed our love.... Oh Rosemary ... kiss me!"

"Not yet, oh not yet or I shall forget everything, and I have so much to say. Come and sit down under our old tree."

But when they were seated beneath this aged tree whose spreading boughs had sheltered them so often of late, they could but look and sigh for pure happiness by reason of their very nearness while the horse Saladin, cropping the grass hard by, often lifted his noble crest to roll an eye at them and snort, for these two young, strange humans, though seated so very close together, still neither kissed nor spoke nor so much as touched hands ... what wonder Saladin snorted in equine contempt?

Thus then they sat, Rosemary staring down at the bonnet-strings her strong, shapely fingers were twisting, and Richard gazing at her beautiful, down-bent face whose loveliness was made even more alluring by its sudden, bewildering changes, or so thought Richard: This nose, for instance, though perfect in itself, yet because of its delicate, so sensitive nostrils, became positively adorable; this rose-red mouth, with its sweet, subtle curve of mobile lips, broke his heart when it drooped.... And, by heaven, it was drooping now! He seized her hands to kiss and kiss them, he lifted her head that he might look down into her eyes, and gazing into these tender deeps, he questioned her in voice anxious and a little uncertain:

"Rosemary ... oh my dearest ... what is it?"

"You!" she whispered. "Me! Your father and mother! They are such great people ... so proud of you! And you, their one son, and I am ... only just me! Oh, Dick, when ... if ever I am your wife, are you sure you won't ... regret or be ... ashamed of poor me?"

"Ashamed?" he cried fiercely. "Don't say it! Never think it! See, I'll kneel to you, Rosemary, here now on my knees I thank you for loving me, because ... oh, my dear, I should be lost without you! I loved you years ago as a child, as a man I adore you, need you, want you,—must and will have you ... so, Rosemary, be merciful and marry me."

Then she was on her knees before him and thus kneeling even as he, set her hands upon his shoulders and gazed at him, head thrown back, but in her eyes such look as he had vaguely dreamed yet never seen there until now; a look that fired yet awed him by the very wonder of its sweetly fearless revelation.

"Richard," she murmured, "I am yours, now and always, with every breath of my heart ... but, oh, my dear, because I do love you so, how ... how can I ever be your wife, except your father consent."

"Easily, my Rosemary, for marry me you must, you shall!"

"Why, then, if I must ... I will," she sighed, her radiant eyes upraised to the cloudless heaven, her shapely arms out-flung. "For, oh how may we help it when love is so wonderful?"

"Rosemary!" he breathed, and would have kissed her, but she stayed him, though very tenderly.

"Oh wait, my dear!" she pleaded. "For we must not be wed in secret as if our love were shameful; first you must tell Sir Peter and your mother."

"Of course, dear Heart."

"But suppose he forbids us, as I fear ... as I know he will, Richard?"

"Why, then we'll be married at once!"

"But ... oh Dick, I'd forgotten,—you're not of age!"

Now at this young Richard clenched his fists and scowled on the universe.

"I shall be ... very soon!" said he, at last.

"Not for a whole year and three days, Dick."

"Then I'll swear I am, and we'll elope, to be sure. Yes, by Heaven, we'll elope!" Rosemary shook her head.

"No," she sighed, "we must wait." Now though her voice sounded gentle as ever, there was in the resolute set of her changeful mouth an expression of such purposeful determination that, known of old, now filled him with dismay.

"But ... oh Rosemary——" he began, then, suddenly dumb, glanced up and beheld a young gentleman in scarlet hunting coat who smiled at them from the edge of the wood.

"Not praying, surely?" he enquired, bowing to Rosemary, hat in hand. "That you should grovel to Beauty, Dick old fellow, is but natural and exactly proper,—but that Beauty should abase herself to——" Up sprang Richard with look of such passionate menace that the speaker recoiled and instinctively lifted the heavy hunting crop he carried; even so Richard would have been at him but that Rosemary, quick as he, had leapt between them.

"Damn you, Iford!" quoth Richard, fuming.

"The same to you, Dick,—with apologies to Rosemary. And my appearance here is an intrusion quite premeditated and with no apologies to you, Dick." And Lord Iford, lounging against a convenient tree, smiled. Unlike his large sire, Lord Iford was slim and delicately made, his face, pinkly smooth beneath curling, golden hair, might have suggested cherubs and innocence but that his large, blue eyes were anything but innocent and held a lack-lustre, almost haggard weariness—except when they dwelt on Rosemary's loveliness, then they glowed; and jealous Richard, quick to look for and perceive this, clenched his fists and spoke on the instant:

"Rosemary, pray stand aside."

"Rosemary," said my lord, "pray stand where you are and avert very probable ruffianism." Slowly she turned and fronting the speaker, changed from sighing, tremulous girl to resolute woman serenely confident; the eyes that had so lately viewed Richard with such melting tenderness were now bright and steadfast, the gentle mouth had a strangely indomitable expression and her voice when she spoke though soft by nature, was resonant and wholly assured:

"My lord, if you have any respect for me, I beg you will go."

"Confound me, Rosemary," sighed his lordship, ruefully, "but what a glorious witch you are! Since you put it so I can but obey you. But don't—oh pray, don't bend those lovely knees to our Dick any more."

"Iford," cried Richard furiously, "do you go or shall we——?"

"Please hush, Richard! Lord Iford will go because I ask."

"At once, my goddess, to please you. Though our Richard is a little overbearing, you see he is a man of his hands, Rosemary, a boxer and esteemed a crack pistol shot at Oxford ... and devilish perilous to quarrel with, eh, Dick? Well, we won't quarrel, old fellow, at least not here and now. Some day perhaps I may feel more inclined and then,—well, I may surprise you, Dick, and make it—once for all. Until which joyful day, God bless you!" And with smiling reverence to Rosemary Lord Iford strolled away, while she looked upon him with eyes a little troubled.

"Dick, what did he mean about 'quarrelling once for all'?"

"Anything or nothing. Let's forget the fellow and sit down again."

"Are you so dangerous, Richard?"

"Reasonably. But come, dear Heart——"

"I could almost like him sometimes, Dick."

"Who,—Iford?"

"Yes. And I think ... I think he might be dangerous too, Richard,—deadly perhaps."

"Absolutely poisonous!" quoth Richard, hot with swift jealousy. "And yet no, I beg his pardon! Iford's not such a bad fellow."

"Though indeed, Richard, I've seen him—very drunk."

"Well, but ... but, dear Heart," stammered Richard, "I'm afraid I've been the same ... once or twice at Oxford."

"Oh, but not now, Richard dear."

"Why no, but—only because I don't like it. Oh, I'm a very ordinary fellow, not half good enough for you, I know. But I ... well, I do try to be worthy of your love, Rosemary. You are so good, so pure and wonderful that I ought to kiss your dear, beautiful feet ... and so I will ... someday."

"Oh, Dick," she murmured, flushing cheek against his, "I'm terribly human really ... not half so good as I try to seem. Sometimes I feel a dreadful hypocrite and despise myself. And now, Richard, I have to tell you that I'm going away from Abbeymere—soon! At once!"

"Well, I'm glad you are leaving these people, but when, and why so soon?"

"Because," she answered with quick gesture of passionate loathing, "if I were timid and easily frightened as I suppose a girl ought to be,—well, I should be terrified now."

"Terrified? You, Rosemary!" exclaimed Richard, in smiling disbelief. "I can hardly believe it—unless——" He broke off scowling suddenly. "Ah, you can't mean because of Iford?"

"No, Dick,—-because of his ... father."

"What? The Earl? Abbeymere? Has the damned old rake dared——"

"Nothing, Richard, nothing actually. He has never done anything, never said anything and yet ... and this is what makes it terrible,—I know he is vile! It is in his eyes, his chuckling laugh, the very air about him,—a hateful, gloating evil, a creeping, stealthy menace. And so—I'm going, Dick."

"To-night!" nodded Richard, his eyes bright and eager. "We'll go this very night."

"We?" she repeated, and meeting his look, uttered a little gasp of ecstasy.

"We! To-night! You shall go with me, my Rosemary."

"Oh! But ... where?"

"Wherever you will. We'll elope! London, Paris, I've plenty of money and can borrow more."

"No, Dick, ah—no!"

"Yes!" he cried, and clasped her in his arms; for a moment she yielded, clung to him, trembling to the fire of his kisses, then she held him away, breathless, trembling, but strong almost as he.

"Don't!" she pleaded. "Oh, my dear, if you love me be merciful; let me think ... your mother and father——"

"They have each other."

"They would hate me!"

"And should learn to love you."

"And you are ... so young, my darling."

"It's the time for love. We'll be married to-morrow and——"

But with supple twist she broke from him crying, "No!" and "No!"

"Then you don't love me enough!" he reproached her.

"I love you too much."

"You won't trust me!"

"Oh, Richard, I'd trust you with myself, my life, all that I am ... but I love your mother and I can't ... I won't steal her son away ... like a thief!"

"Steal?" he repeated fiercely. "You treat me like a child."

"When I was a child, Richard, she treated me like an angel of heaven and I must be able to meet her unashamed."

"Where's the shame in marrying me?"

"In doing it so deceitfully, without her knowledge."

"So you refuse to let me take you away, trusting to my honour?"

"I must refuse, I must!" she cried, wringing her hands. "Oh, don't you see?"

"Very well!" quoth Richard, extremely grim and stately (almost) as his father. "So be it! Then I shall go with you to the house and horse-whip the Earl, damn him! And Iford and anyone else that offers!" and turning sharp about, he began searching for his horse-whip. So she called softly:

"Richard!" But he unheeding, she reached out yearning arms, murmuring: "Dick! My darling!" He never so much as turned his head; therefore, with pantherine leap she was upon him, shaking him with passionate strength.

"Ah, do you think," she panted, her eyes blazing into his, "dare you think it so easy for me to refuse ... shutting myself out of paradise ... to wait and wait a long long year? Do you think yourself the only sufferer—do you?"

"Will you go away with me, trust me, marry me?" he demanded.

"Yes, I must if you force me, because I am yours and always was."

"To-night?"

"No! To-night you must explain to your father and mother, must tell them you are going to marry me. And then I want you to give this letter to your mother."

"Oh? Yes, very well," said he, taking the letter she tendered and thrusting it into his pocket. "But, if not to-night, then it must be—to-morrow?"

"No, Richard! You forget—in three days will be your twentieth birthday."

"Well?"

"Your dear mother! She will want you with her on that day, you know she will."

"Yes, but——"

"There shall be no 'but'!" said Rosemary sighing, but with her resolute look. "I will not grieve your mother more than I must. You shall keep your birthday with her. To-day is Monday, come to me here at this hour on Thursday and take me ... wherever you will."

"Rosemary!" he cried, casting himself on his knees before her. "How I worship you! I shall begin to live—on Thursday. With you always beside me I may do something worth while at last.... But always I shall love you ... with my last breath...." He choked, and in the reverent, young eyes upraised to hers, she saw the glitter of tears and, stooping to kiss them away, wept also.... And thus, lost in each other and the wonder of their love, how should they be aware of the eyes that watched them so furtively amid the leaves, or of the ears that hearkened so avidly?

"And yet four days is a long time!" sighed Richard.

"Yet ... only four days!" she answered, sighing also.

"Anything may happen—in four days!" quoth Richard, gloomily.

"Four days will soon pass, dear," said she smiling wistfully.

"I would to God they had."

"And you'll tell your father to-night, Richard dear?"

"The moment I see him."

"And now ... I must go."

"Then I'll see you as far as the wicket gate."

"No, please. I'd rather part here by our old tree."

"And you'll be quite safe? I mean Abbeymere, damn him! I mean you don't think ... anything could happen?"

"No, no! Never worry, Richard darling ... your love is all about me. Good-bye my own love."

"Until Thursday!" he murmured. "Oh glorious, heavenly Thursday!" So they kissed each other sighfully because of this dreary infinitude of four days; then, standing bare-headed, he watched her go from him, nor moved until all sight and sound of her had vanished and died away.

Then he was seized of a strange, wild impulse to run after her and bear her away to the peace and safety of his father's house, but checked the impulse and calling to Saladin, swung heavily to saddle and rode away ... quite forgetting his whip.