Читать книгу Our Admirable Betty - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 5
ОглавлениеWHICH TELLS HOW THE MAJOR CLIMBED A WALL
A wonderfully pleasant place was the Major's orchard, very retired and secluded by reason of its high old walls flushing rosily through green leaves; an orchard, this, full of ancient trees gnarled and crooked whose writhen boughs sprawled and twisted; an orchard carpeted with velvety turf whereon plump thrushes and blackbirds hopped and waddled, or, perched aloft, filled the sunny air with rich, throaty warblings and fluty trills and flourishes. Here Sergeant Tring, ever a man of his hands, had contrived and built a rustic arbour (its architecture faintly suggestive of a rabbit-hutch and a sentry-box) of which he was justly proud.
Now Major d'Arcy despite his many battles had an inborn love of peace and quietness, of the soft rustle of wind in leaves, of sunshine and the mellow pipe of thrush and blackbird, hence it was not at all surprising that he should develop a sudden fancy for strolling, to and fro in his orchard of a sunny afternoon, book in hand, or, sitting in the Sergeant's hutch-like sentry-box, puff dreamily at pipe of clay, or again, tucking up his ruffles and squaring his elbows, fall to work on his History of Fortification; and if his glance happened to rove from printed page or busy quill in a certain direction, what of it? Though it was to be remarked that his full-flowing peruke was seldom askew and the lace of his cravat and the ruffles below the huge cuffs of his Ramillie coat were of the finest point.
It was a hot afternoon, very slumberous and still; flowers drooped languid heads, birds twittered sleepily, butterflies wheeled and hovered, and the Major, sitting in the shady arbour, stared at a certain part of the old wall, sighed, and taking up his pipe began to fill it absently, his gaze yet fixed. All at once he sprang up, radiant-eyed, and strode across the smooth grass.
The faded sun-bonnet was not; her black hair was coiled high, while at white brow and glowing cheek silken curls wantoned in an artful disorder, moreover her simple russet gown had given place to a rich, flowered satin. All this he noticed at a glance though his gaze never wandered from the witching eyes of her. Were they blue or black or dark brown?
"Sir," said she, acknowledging his deep reverence with a stately inclination of her shapely head, "I would curtsey if I might, but to curtsey on a ladder were dangerous and not to be lightly undertaken."
Quoth the Major:
"It has been a long time—a very long time since you—since I—er—that is—
"Exactly five days, sir!"
"Why—ah—to be sure these summer days do grow uncommon long, mam—
"Which means, sir, that you've wanted me?"
The Major started:
"Why er—I—indeed I—I hardly know!" he stammered.
"Which proves it beyond all doubt!" she nodded serenely.
The Major was silent.
"Then, sir," she continued gravely, "since 'tis beyond all doubt you wanted me and hither came daily to look for me, as methinks you did—?"
Here she paused expectant, whereupon the Major stooped to survey his neat shoe-buckle.
"Well, sir, did you not come patiently a-seeking me here?"
"Why, mam," he answered, rubbing his chin with his pipe-stem, "'tis true I came hither—having a fancy for——"
"Then, sir, since being hither come you found me not, why, having legs, didn't you climb over the wall and seek me where you might have found me?"
The Major caught his breath and nearly dropped his pipe.
"Indeed it never occurred to me!"
"To be sure the climbing of walls is an infinite trying and arduous task for—ancient limbs," she sighed, shaking her head, "yet—even you, might have achieved it—with care."
The Major laughed:
"'Tis possible, mam," said he.
"And it never occurred to you?"
"No indeed, mam, and never would!"
"Then you lack imagination and a man without imagination is akin to the brutes and—" but here she broke off to utter a small scream and glancing up in alarm he saw her eyes were closed and that she shuddered violently.
"Madam!" he cried, "mam! My lady—good heaven are you sick—faint?"
Regardless of the cherry-tree he reached up long arms and swinging himself up astride the wall, had an arm about her shivering form all in a moment; thus as she leaned against him he caught the perfume of all her warm, soft daintiness, then she drew away.
"What was it?" he questioned anxiously as she opened her eyes, "were you faint, mam? Was it a fit? Good lack, mam, I——"
"Do—not—call me—that!" she cried, eyes flashing and—yes, they were blue—very darkly blue—"Never dare to call me—so—again!"
"Call you what, mam?"
"Mam!" she cried, gnashing her white teeth—"'tis a hateful word!"
"Indeed I—I had not thought it so," stammered the Major. "It is, I believe, a word in common use and——"
"Aye, 'tis common! 'Tis odious! 'Tis vulgar!"
"I crave your ladyship's pardon!" And he bowed as well as his position would allow, though a little stiffly.
"You are marvellous nimble, sir!"
"Your ladyship is gracious!"
"Considering your age, sir!"
"And you, madam, I lament that at yours you should be subject to fits."
"Fits!" she cried in frowning amaze.
"Seizures, then——"
"'Twas no seizure, sir—'twas yourself!"
"Me?" he exclaimed, staring.
"You—and your abominable tobacco-pipe!" Here she shivered daintily.
"Alack, madam, see, 'tis broke!"
"Heaven be thanked, sir."
"'Twas an admirable pipe—an old friend," he murmured.
"O fie, sir—only chairmen and watchmen and worse, drink smoke. 'Tis a low habit, vicious, vain and vulgar."
"Is it so indeed, madam?"
"It is! Aunt Belinda says so and I think so. If you must have vices why not snuff?"
"But I hate snuff!"
"But 'tis so elegant! There's Sir Jasper Denholm takes it with such an air I vow 'tis perfectly ravishing! And Sir Benjamin Tripp and Viscount Merivale in especial—such grace! Such an elegant turn of the wrist! But to suck a pipe—O Gemini!"
"I'm sorry my pipe offends you!" said he, glancing at her glowing loveliness.
And here, because of her beauty and nearness he grew silent and finding he yet held part of his clay pipe, broken in his hasty ascent, he fell to turning it over in his fingers, staring at it very hard but seeing it not at all; whereat she fell to studying him, his broad shoulders and powerful hands, his clean-cut aquiline features, his tender mouth and strong, square chin. Thus, the Major, glancing up suddenly, eye met eye and for a long moment they looked on one another, then, as she turned away he saw her cheek crimson suddenly and she, aware of this, clenched her white fists and flushed all the deeper.
"'Tis abominable rude to—stare so!" she said, over her shoulder.
"You are the Lady Elizabeth Carlyon, I think?" he enquired.
"And then, sir?"
"Then you are well used to being stared at, methinks."
"At a distance, sir!"
Here the Major edged away a couple of inches.
"You have heard of such a person before, then?" she enquired loftily.
"I go to London—sometimes, madam, when I must and when last there I chanced to hear her acclaimed and toasted as the 'Admirable Betty'!" said he, frowning.
"I am sometimes called Betty, sir," she acknowledged.
"Also 'Bewitching Bet'!" Here he scowled fiercely at a bunch of cherries.
"Do you think Bet so ill a name, sir?" she enquired, stealing a glance at him.
"'Bewitching Bet'!" he repeated grimly and the hand that grasped his broken pipe became a fist, observing which she smiled slyly.
"Or is it that the 'bewitching' offends you, sir?" she questioned innocently.
"Both, mam, both!" said he, scowling yet.
"La, sir," she cried gaily, "in this light and at this precise angle I do protest you look quite handsome when you frown."
The Major immediately laughed.
"If," she continued, "your chin were less grim and craggy and your nose a little different and your eyes less like gimlets and needles—if you wore a modish French wig instead of a horsehair mat and had your garments made by a London tailor instead of a country cobbler and carpenter you would be almost attractive—by candle light."
"Is my wig so unmodish?" he enquired smiling a trifle ruefully, "'tis my best."
"Unmodish?" White hands were lifted, and sparkling eyes rolled themselves in agonised protest. "There's a new tie-wig come in—un peu negligée—a most truly ravishing confection. As for clothes——"
"And needles," he added, "pray what of your promise?"
"Promise, sir?"
"You were to teach me how to sew on a button, I think?"
"Button!" she repeated, staring,
"If you've forgot, 'tis no matter, madam," said he and dropped very nimbly from the wall.
"Ah, my forgetfulness hath angered you, sir."
"No, child, no, extreme youth is apt to be extreme thoughtless and forgetful——"
"Sir, I am twenty-two."
"And I am forty-one!" he said wistfully.
"'Tis a monstrous great age, sir!"
"I begin to fear it is!" said he rather ruefully.
"And great age is apt to be peevish and slothful and childish and fretful and must be ruled. So come you over the wall this instant, sir!"
"And wherefore, madam?"
"'Tis so my will!"
"But——"
"Plague take it, sir, how may I sew on your abominable buttons with a wall betwixt us? Over with you this moment—obey!"
The Major obeyed forthwith.
