CHAPTER x.x.xIII

DESCRIBING SOMETHING OF COQUETRY AND A DAWN

It was a glorious summer night, the moon riding high in a cloudless heaven, a night full of a tranquil quietude and filled with the thousand scents of dewy earth. Before him stretched the wide road, a silver causeway fretted with shadows, a silent road where nothing moved save himself.

Thus, joying in the beauty of the night, Major d'Arcy walked slowly and took a roundabout course, and a distant clock chimed the hour of one as he found himself traversing a small copse that ab.u.t.ted on his own property.

In this place of light and shadow a nightingale poured forth his liquid notes rilling the leafy mysteries with ecstatic song; here the Major paused and setting his back to a tree, stood awhile to hearken, lost in a profound reverie.

And into this little wood came two who walked very close together and spoke in rapt murmurs; near they came and nearer until the Major started and looking up beheld a woman who wore a blue cloak and whose face, hidden beneath her hood, was turned up to the eager face of him who went beside her. The Major, scowling and disgusted thus to have stumbled upon a vulgar amour and fearing to be seen, waited impatiently for them to be gone. But they stopped within a few yards of him, half screened from view behind a tangle of bushes. Hot with his disgust, the Major turned to steal away, heard a cry of pa.s.sionate protest, and glancing back, saw the woman caught in sudden fierce arms, viciously purposeful, and drawn swiftly out of sight.

"Mr. Dalroyd," said my lady gently, lying pa.s.sive in his embrace, "pray turn your head." Wondering, he obeyed and stared into the muzzle of a small pocket pistol. "Dear Mr. Dalroyd--must I kill you?" she smiled; and he, beholding the indomitable purpose in that lovely, smiling face, gnashed white teeth and loosing her, stood back as the Major appeared.

For a tense moment no one moved, then with an inarticulate sound Mr.

Dalroyd took a swift backward step, his hand grasping the hilt of his small-sword; but the Major had drawn as quick as he and the air seemed full of the blue flash and glitter of eager steel. Then, even as the swift blades rang together, my lady had slipped off her cloak and next moment the murderous points were entangled, caught, and held in the heavy folds.

"Shame sirs, O shame!" she cried. "Will you do murder in my very sight? Loose--loose your hold, both of you--loose, I say!" Here my lady, shaking the entangled blades in pa.s.sionate hands, stamped her foot in fury. The Major, relinquishing his weapon, stepped back and bowed like the grand gentleman he was; then Mr. Dalroyd did the same and so they stood facing each other, my lady between them, the bundled cloak and weapons clasped to her swelling bosom; and it was to be remarked that while Mr. Dalroyd kept his ardent gaze bent upon her proud loveliness, the Major, tall and stately, never so much as glanced at her.

"Sir," said he, "our quarrel will keep awhile, I think?"

"Keep--aye sir!" nodded the other carelessly, "you'll remark the farmers in these parts beget G.o.ddesses for daughters, sir."

"Major d'Arcy," said my lady, "take your sword, sir."

The Major, keeping his eyes averted, sheathed the weapon and forthwith turned his back; and as he limped heavily away was aware of Dalroyd's amused laughter. He walked slowly and more than once blundered into a tree or tripped over manifest obstacles like one whose eyesight is denied him, and ever as he went Mr. Dalroyd's triumphant laughter seemed to ring in his ears.

Thus at last he came out of the shadow of the little wood, but now was aware of the tread of quick, light feet behind him, felt a hand upon his arm and found my lady at his side. Then he stopped and drawing from her contact glanced back and saw Mr. Dalroyd watching them from the edge of the coppice, his arms folded and the smile still curling his lips; my lady saw him also and with a pa.s.sionate gesture bade him begone, whereupon he flourished off his hat, laughed again, and bowing profoundly, vanished amid the trees. Then they went on side by side, my lady quick-breathing, the Major grim and stately--a very grand gentleman indeed.

At last they reached a lane whose high banks sheltered them from all chance of observation; here my lady paused.

"O John," she murmured, "I'm so--so weary, prithee don't hurry me so!"

The Major, mute and grim, stared straight before him. "John?" said she tenderly. At this he turned and looked at her and before that look my lady cried out and cowered away. "John!" she cried in frightened wonderment.

"Madam," said he, "why are you here, I sought you not? If you are for dallying, go back--back to your----" He clenched his teeth on the word and turned away. "If mam, if you are--for home to-night I'll see you so far. Pray let us go." And he strode impatiently forward, but presently, seeing her stand where he had left her, pale and forlorn, frowned and stood hesitating.

Here my lady, feeling the situation called for tears, sank down upon the gra.s.sy bank beside the way and forthwith wept distractingly; though had any been there to notice, it might have been remarked that her eyes did not swell and her delicate nose did not turn red--yet she wept with whole-hearted perseverance.

The Major grew restless, he looked up the lane and he looked down the lane, he turned scowling eyes aloft to radiant moon and down to shadowy earth; finally he took one long pace back towards her.

"Madam!" said he.

My lady sobbed and bowed her lovely head. The Major approached another step.

"My lady!" he remonstrated.

My lady gasped and crouched lower. The Major approached nearer yet.

"Mam!"

My lady choked and sank full length upon the mossy turf. The Major stooped above her.

"Betty!" said he anxiously. "You--you're never swooning?"

"O John!" she said in strangled voice.

"Great heavens!" he exclaimed. "Art ill--sick----?"

"At--at heart, John!" she murmured, stealing a look at his anxious face. The Major stood suddenly erect, frowning a little.

"Madam!" said he. A deep sigh. "My lady--mam----"

"Do not--call me so!"

"You'll take a rheum--a cold, lying there--'tis a heavy dew!"

"Why then I will--let me, John."

"Pray get up, mam--my lady."

"Never, John!"

"Why then----" said he and paused to look up the lane once more.

"What, John?"

"You force me to----" He paused and glanced down the lane.

"To--what, John!"

"To carry you!"

"Never, John! For shame! Besides you couldn't. I'm a vast weight and----"

The Major picked her up, then and there, and began to carry her down the lane. And after they had gone some distance she sighed and with a little wriggle disposed herself more comfortably; and after they had gone further still he found two smooth, round arms about his neck and thereafter a soft breath at his ear.

"Pray don't be angry with your Betty, John dear." The Major stopped and stared down at her in the brilliant moonlight. Her eyes were closed, her rosy lips just apart, curving to a smile; he drew a sudden deep breath, and stooping his head, kissed her. For a long moment he held her thus, lip to lip, then all at once he set her down on her feet.

"Gad!" he cried, "what kind of woman are you to lure and mad me with your kisses----"

"Your woman, John."

"And yet--for aught I know----" the Major clenched his fists and pressed them on his eyes as if to shut out some hateful vision--"ah G.o.d, for aught I can be sure----"

"What, John?"

"He--he hath kissed you too, this night----"