Читать книгу Our Admirable Betty - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 18

It was at this juncture that the Major became aware of a tall, buxom, not to say strapping country-wench approaching down the lane, sun-bonnet on head and large basket on comely arm; one garbed as all maids should be, in simple gown that allowed free play to vigorous, young limbs; one who moved with step blithe and purposeful, doubtless busied upon some useful and womanly duty as all women should be.

So thought the Major as he watched the approach of this rustic lass, comparing her in her naturalness and simplicity to wood-nymphs and dryads and goddesses of groves and fountains, and altogether to the disadvantage of patched and powdered beauties in their coquettish frills and furbelows. Sighing again, he turned to go back.

"God bless your honour and, so please your honour, a humble good day to your honour!" said a voice.

The Major stopped, wheeled, and dropped his cane:

"Betty!" he exclaimed.

"John!" said she. But, meeting his look, flushed and drooped her lashes, whereupon he fell to stammering.

"I—I was but now—'Tis strange but I was——"

"Thinking of me, Major John?"

"Indeed!" he answered.

"Kindly, Major Jack?"

"Pray," he enquired, "pray—er—are you alone?"

"Momentarily!" she sighed. "But Sir Benjamin Tripp is somewhere about, the Marquis is not far hence and Mr. Marchdale mopes at hand——"

"You mean they seek you——?"

"Most pertinaciously, sir, but quite vainly by reason that I can climb."

"Climb?" repeated the Major, staring, "pray what?"

"A wall, sir."

"Wall?" he murmured.

"Two, sir. I had to run away. They're dear creatures, to be sure, but the Marquis persists in recounting pedigrees of horses and dogs, Sir Benjamin rhapsodises in metre and poor Mr. Marchdale, being very young, is so egregiously in love with me that I climb and clamber over walls and here I am. Pray aid me over this stile ere they find me."

The Major's aid was so energetic and prompt that Lady Betty was over the stile and walking beside him, flushed and a little breathless all in a moment.

"You are forgetting your fine cane, sir," said she in a small voice.

"Aye, to be sure!" And flushing, he picked it up rather hastily.

"And now prithee my basket—'twould never suit so fine a gentleman." The Major flushed, seeing which she added: "Though indeed I do like you infinitely so."

"And I," said he impulsively, his keen, bright glance appraising her from head to foot, "I find you infinitely more—more—er—womanly as 'twere—but pray why so large a basket?"

"To carry eggs, sir, and butter and such. Some of your tenants are miserably poor, Major John."

"Hum!" said he, thoughtfully. "And you buy them butter——"

"I make them butter, sir."

"Ha—do you, by Jove!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining.

"I make them butter with the aid of certain polite, perspiring, and I greatly fear, profane gentlemen." The Major's smooth brow grew ruffled.

"Meaning whom, mam?"

"Well, to-day 'twas Sir Benjamin Tripp, the Marquis, Sir Jasper Denholm and Mr. Marchdale. To see Sir Benjamin churning is—O 'tis rare, 'tis killing!" And my lady stood still the better to laugh.

"Sir Benjamin Tripp—churning?" exclaimed the Major.

"So hot—so scant o' breath!" she gurgled. "And his ruffles flip-flopping and his fine peruke all askew. To-morrow 'twill be Lord Alvaston and Captain West and—O 'twill be pure!" and once again she trilled with laughter until, beholding the Major's expression, she stopped breathless and wiping her eyes on the back of slender hand like any rustic lass. "Doth it not strike you as comical?" she demanded.

"O vastly!" said he, and sighed.

"If you had but seen Sir Benjamin, poor, dear, good creature—he did so blow and pant!"

"Extreme diverting!" admitted the Major and sighed again.

"And pray, Major d'Arcy, do you always utter deep-fetched and doleful breathings when amused? Smile, sir, this instant!" The Major obeyed, whereupon she shook critical head: "'Twas much like a grimace caused by an extreme anguish, but 'twill serve for one so preternaturally grave as Major d'Arcy."

"Do I seem so grave, indeed?" he questioned wistfully.

"As the tomb, sir!" The Major blinked: walked a dozen yards or so in silence and sighed deeper than ever, strove to disguise it in a cough and failing, stood rueful. My lady stopped and faced him:

"Major John—Major d'Arcy, sir, look at me. Now prithee why all this windy woe, this sighful sorrow—what evil thought harrows your lofty serenity to-day?"

"I think," said he, hands tight-clenched upon his cane, "I am haunted by a certain evening in the Mall!"

"O? Indeed? The Mall?"

"Aye, my lady, the Mall." Slowly, slowly her red lips curved, her gaze sank beneath his.

"You mean, I think, when I wore——"

"I do!" said he hastily.

"So you have not forgot?"

"Would to heaven I might!"

"And prithee why?"

"'Twas so unworthy your proud womanhood!"

My lady flushed, averted her head and walked on in a dignified silence until they reached the rustic bridge; here she paused to look down into the stilly pool.

"Heigho!" she sighed. The Major was silent and seeing how he frowned with his big chin out-thrust, she bit her lip and dimpled.

"The moon will be at the full to-night!" Still he didn't speak. "And when the moon is full I always feel excessive feminine and vapourish!" The Major, staring into the gloomy water, gloomed also. "And when I feel vapourish, chiding nauseates me and reproaches give me the megrims."

"I would not reproach you, child——"

"Ancient sir, I am not a child. And you do reproach me—you said 'twas unworthy!"

"Aye, I said so," he admitted, keeping his gaze bent upon the sleepy pool, "I said so, my lady, because I would have you in all things most noble, most high and far removed 'bove fear of reproach. Because I would have you worthy of all reverence."

"Alas!" she sighed, "here is a something trying role for a poor maid who chances to be very human flesh and blood!"

"And yet," said he in his grave, gentle voice, "knowing you flesh and blood, in my thought you were very nigh to divinity also."

"Were?" she questioned softly. "Is my poor divinity lost so soon?" And her arm touched his upon the handrail. The Major sighed and immediately the arm withdrew itself and, before he could speak, she laughed, though her merriment rang a little hollow. "And forsooth is it so deep a sin, so black a crime to have ventured abroad in my brother's clothes? And if it were, pray who is Major d'Arcy to sit in judgment? Am I dishonoured, smirched beyond redemption——"

"No—no——" he exclaimed.

"So stained, so steeped in depravity——"

"Ah no indeed!" he cried, "indeed madam—ah, Betty it was but that it seemed so—so——"

"So what, sir?"

"So—so—unmaidenly."

My lady Betty caught her breath in a gasp, her cheeks glowed hot and angry and she fronted him with head upflung.

"How dare you—how dare you think me so—speak me so!" Even as she spoke, proud colour ebbed, hot anger was ousted by cold disdain and he blenched before the scorn of her eyes; he grew humble, abject, reached out hands in supplication:

"My lady I—I—God knows I would not hurt you! Indeed I did but mean——"

"Enough sir, 'tis sufficient!" said she disdainfully. "Major d'Arcy doth pronounce me unmaidenly—O, 'tis all-sufficing!" and, as she turned her back on him, her very garments seemed to radiate scorn unutterable.

"Stay!" he pleaded, as she moved away. "Ah, never leave me so—do but let me explain—hear me!"

"Be silent, sir!" she commanded, speaking over her shoulder, "I've heard enough, aye—enough for a lifetime!" And stepping from the bridge she turned aside into the wood; but there, his hand upon her arm arrested her.

"Child, whither go you?"

"Whereso I will, sir. A fair, good even to you and—good-bye!"

"Not through the wood, madam! There be rough folk about, the Sergeant tells me—gipsies, tramping folk and the like."

"O sir," she sighed, "I may prefer such to Major—Prudery—d'Arcy!" and setting aside a bramble-shoot she went on into the wood, and, when he would have followed, checked him with an imperious gesture. "Come no further, sir, here be thorns to spoil gay finery—and besides," she added, glancing back at him with merciless eyes, "your sober airs annoy me, your lofty virtue is an offence—pray suffer me to go alone!"

The Major flushed painfully, took off his hat and bowed.

"As you will, madam!" said he and, stepping aside, watched her go until the leaves had hidden her from sight. Then, putting on his hat, he took a score or so of slow strides away and as many slow strides back again, until, being come some little way in among the trees, he halted to listen. Faint and far he caught a rustle, a leafy stirring that told where she moved and, guided by this he began to follow into the depths of the wood. Suddenly he paused to listen intently, cane grasped in powerful fist, then hurried on at speed, choosing his way with quick, soldierly eye and making very little sound for all his haste and so reached a little clearing.

She stood, back set to a tree, hands gripping her basket, head erect and defiant but in her wide eyes a sickening fear as she fronted a tall, burly, gipsy-looking fellow who carried a knobby bludgeon and whose eyes, heedful and deliberate, roved over her trembling loveliness and whose hairy lips curled as he slowly advanced. Then the Major stepped out from the leaves, his gait unhurried and limping a little as was usual. But at sight of him my lady, uttering a gasp, let fall her basket almost forgetting shuddering fear in amazement as she beheld the face that looked out between the precise curls of the Major's great periwig. The gipsy fellow saw it also, and, reading its expression aright, sprang immediately to a defensive posture and spoke between a growl and a whine:

"What now, master? There be no harm done, sir—nought but a bit o' pleasantry wi' a country wench!" The Major neither spoke nor altered his leisurely advance until, coming within striking distance, he leapt. Heavy bludgeon whirled, long cane whizzed and the fellow, uttering a hoarse gasp, dropped his weapon and gave back, clutching at useless, dangling limb. But the Major's long arm rose and fell, beating the man to his knees, to his face; even then, as the fellow writhed helpless, those merciless blows rained down tirelessly until a voice cried:

"Don't! Don't! Ah, Major John—you'll kill him!" The Major stepped back, panting a little.

"Kill him," he repeated gently, "why no, mam, no—his sort take a vast deal of killing. I would but give him such a—er—reminder as shall not fade awhile."

"Nay sir, no more, I beg! And see, your cane is broke——"

"Why so 'tis!" said the Major and tossing it aside he picked up the knobby bludgeon, seeing which Lady Betty caught his arm and held it:

"Nay, you are cruel—cruel! You shall not, I say. He has enough!"

"Aye, perhaps he has," said the Major, "and 'twould be distressing for you of course, though when one must fight 'tis as well to be thorough." Saying which he resettled his ruffles, tucked the bludgeon under his arm and bowed. "Pray let us be going, madam!" My lady hesitated and glanced at her assailant's prostrate figure. "A few bruises, mam, he will be well enough in an hour or so—though somewhat sore. And now, with your leave I'll see you out o' the wood, evening falls apace and the Sergeant was right, it seems." Then he picked up her basket and motioning her to lead the way, followed her through the wood.

For once in her twenty-two years of life my lady Betty felt herself at a disadvantage; twice she turned to speak but he, walking behind with head bowed, seemed utterly oblivious of her, wherefore she held her peace and threw up proud head disdainfully. And yet he had saved her and—from what? At this she shivered and disdain was forgotten. Still it is difficult to express gratitude with proper dignity to a man upon a narrow, brier-set path especially when that man keeps himself perseveringly behind one. So my lady waited until they should be out of the hateful wood.

Thus they went in a silence unbroken until they came out in a bye-lane that gave upon the highway. Here, with the glory of the sunset all about her, she paused, quick-breathing, flushed and with witching eyes a-droop and reached out her hands to him; but the Major chanced to be looking just then at a tall gentleman lounging toward them down the shady lane.

"Yonder is Mr. Dalroyd, I think, madam," said the Major, "he shall relieve you of my presence," and into those pleading, outstretched hands he set—the basket.

My lady started away, her lips quivered and, blinded by sudden tears she turned and sped away.

So the Major limped homeward through the afterglow, quite unconscious of the ugly, knobby bludgeon beneath his arm, his mind once more busied with the problem viewed from yet another aspect:

Question: Might it be possible that a true woman can be womanly no matter what she chance to wear?