Читать книгу The Way Beyond - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 14

And it thus befell that at the place where by-lane met high-road, headlong Richard very nearly rode down his stately father. However, both managed their rearing horses very featly and with instant address, whereafter Richard, murmuring breathless apologies, took off his hat and bowed to Sir Peter who, bare-headed also, bowed graciously to him ere they rode on together. And when they had progressed some fifty yards:

"Father——" said Richard.

"My dear Richard——" said Sir Peter, both in the same moment; and instantly both were dumb, then:

"I fear I interrupted you, sir," said Richard.

"You were about to say—what, Richard?" enquired Sir Peter.

"Referring to our conversation this morning in regard to Rosamond, sir ... Rosamond Beverley, though I esteem her very highly yet, father, I ... I must tell you that I cannot ever think of her as a ... possible wife."

"No, Richard?"

"No, sir. Because I ... it so happens I am in love ... engaged to ... going to marry a ... a ... another lady...."

"Richard, you amaze me!"

"Yes, sir, I ... I was afraid I should."

And after they had ridden a while in a somewhat ominous silence, Sir Peter eased his horse to a walk and turned to find his son eyeing him a little apprehensively.

"My dear Dick," said he, keen eyes suddenly gentle, "I shall be first to wish you joy if the lady you have chosen to bear our name be worthy to bear your children and——"

"Thanks, Father, oh thanks!" cried Richard, glad-voiced. "Then pray congratulate me, for she is indeed the sweetest, loveliest, most beautiful ... if you could only see her ... so good, so pure that I ... oh I know myself quite, quite unworthy."

"A very right sentiment, Dick."

"Oh, Father, could you have but heard her dear, soft voice ... seen her as she stood at the edge of the coppice to bid me Good-bye——"

"What coppice, Richard?"

"At Fallowdean, sir. She looked so adorable, so absolutely bewitching ... yet such an angel, and her dear eyes——"

"Fallowdean?" exclaimed Sir Peter, stiffening. "Can it be possible the preposterous suggestion is fact? My son! ... A governess?" ... Richard's ecstatic smile vanished, his brow darkened, his eyes grew keen and stern as Sir Peter's own.

"Sir," said he, chin aloft, "this lady, who would so honour me, does happen to be a governess. And pray—what then?"

Instead of deigning answer Sir Peter urged his horse to faster gait, Richard perforce did the same, and they rode a while, knee to knee, in silence tense and a little grim. At last quoth Sir Peter, level gaze straight before him:

"Favour me with the name of this young person."

Richard's cheek glowed hotly, he sat very erect,—then he smiled suddenly and thereafter began to laugh, and so heartily that Sir Peter eyed him in growing astonishment.

"Perhaps," said he, at last, "you will have the courtesy to give reason for your very strange mirth, sir?"

"Why really, Father, it seems such a silly travesty, so preposterous and utterly ridiculous to misname any creature blessed with such gracious stateliness and glorious beauty a ... young person."

And now Sir Peter frowned in turn, viewed this son of his with a new interest and bowed.

"I accept the rebuke, Richard. Favour me with the name of this lady."

"Why, Father, you and mother know her, knew her very well once—she is Rosemary,—Rosemary Ford, Black George's daughter."

Sir Peter reined up so suddenly that his animal reared.

"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "I ... never dreamed of this!"

"I did, Father, years ago, even as a boy, I think. And when I saw her, quite by accident, just after we returned from abroad, I ... ever since then, sir, I have only lived to make this glorious dream come true."

"Then ... she has agreed to marry you?"

"Yes, Father, thank Heaven! But only after refusing me over and over again, until she grew tired of saying 'no,' I suppose. Anyhow, she has promised at last to ... be my wife, but even so, not until I had told you and my mother."

"And does she ... Rosemary, imagine this marriage will be pleasing to your mother ... and me?"

"No, Father, and that's the wonder of it. She has a strange, well—almost dread that such marriage will grieve you ... so ridiculous! And yet she grieves, too."

"Richard, you surely know that I ... and your mother, of course, hoped that you would choose one in your own class——"

"Wait, sir—wait until you see my Rosemary, how sweet, how perfectly wonderful she is, then you will understand how greatly fortunate I am and how unworthy, of course."

"She owes a very great deal to your mother, Richard."

"She knows this, sir, and is deeply—oh, deeply grateful."

"It was your mother chose her name."

"And of course it suits her perfectly because it is the most beautiful name in all the world."

"When her own mother died, Richard, it was your mother had her educated as if she had been her own daughter."

"My mother is an angel, sir!"

"Not yet, Dick, thank God! Now, bearing all this in mind, how if your angel-like mother should ask you to forego this ... youthful passion?"

"I ... oh, Father, I have reason to think she won't!..."

"Or to wait a short year or so?"

"Impossible, sir, I am pledged, sworn, betrothed——"

"You wish to marry Rosemary Ford soon, then?"

"No, sir, I am going to marry her on Thursday next."

"Good God!" exclaimed Sir Peter. "You are mad!"

"Sir, I am in love."

"You are a mere boy——"

"Yet old enough for this, sir."

"You are not twenty——"

"On Wednesday, sir. And even to-day am hours older than when you suggested I should speak to Rosamond."

"But, Great Heavens, boy, with no idea of your rushing into instant wedlock! Preposterous! Thursday! Three days hence! Most absurd! Does she ... Rosemary agree then to this wild, boyish folly?"

"After three months of my very earnest pleading, suing and supplicating, sir, and on condition that I warned you."

"Warned me, indeed! I am shocked, Richard, profoundly shocked! I fondly imagined my son possessed of a more seasoned judgement! To marry at your age! And ... this girl! Confound it, boy, this very unseemly haste is——"

"Pardon me, sir, I repeat, for three weary months I have prayed and implored, pleaded and supplicated——"

"To undertake such responsibilities! And not twenty! How shall you contrive? What are your plans? How will you live and where?"

"We have not yet decided, sir."

"Have you given these vital matters a thought?"

"Well, to be frank, sir,—hardly."

"Of all the crass, confounded folly!" exclaimed Sir Peter. "How in the name of Reason—ah, thank the Lord we're home ... and your mother there on the terrace awaiting us!"