"Well, my Porges,--I mean, of course, shipmate,--I rather thought of calling her--Hallo!--why here's the Sergeant."

Sure enough, there was Sergeant Appleby sitting under the shade of "King Arthur"--but who rose, and stood at attention as they came up.

"Why Sergeant, how are you?" said Bellew, gripping the veteran's hand.

"You are half an hour before your usual time, to-day,--nothing wrong, I hope?"

"Nothing wrong, Mr. Bellew, sir--I thank you. No, nothing wrong, but this--is a--memorable occasion, sir. May I trouble you to--step behind the tree with me--for half a moment, sir?"

Suiting the action to the word, the Sergeant led Bellew to the other side of the tree, and there, screened from view of the house, he, with a sudden, jerky movement, produced a very small leather case from his pocket, which he handed to Bellew.

"Not good enough--for such a woman--I know, but the best I could afford, sir!" said the Sergeant appearing profoundly interested in the leaves overhead, while Bellew opened the very small box.

"Why--it's very handsome, Sergeant!" said Bellew, making the jewels sparkle in the sun,--"anyone might be proud of such a ring."

"Why, it did look pretty tidy--in the shop, sir,--to me, and Peterday.

My comrade has a sharp eye, and a sound judgment in most things, sir--and we took--a deal of trouble in selecting it. But now--when it comes to--giving it to _Her_,--why it looks--uncommon small, and mean, sir."

"A ruby, and two diamonds, and very fine stones, too, Sergeant!"

"So I made so bold as to--come here sir," pursued the Sergeant still interested in the foliage above, "half an hour afore my usual time--to ask you, sir--if you would so far oblige me--as to--hand it to her--when I'm gone, sir."

"Lord, no!" said Bellew, smiling and shaking his head, "not on your life, Sergeant! Why man it would lose half its value in her eyes if any other than you gave it to her. No Sergeant, you must hand it to her yourself, and, what's more, you must slip it upon her finger."

"Good Lord! sir!" exclaimed the Sergeant, "I could never do that!"

"Oh yes you could!"

"Not unless you--stood by me--a force in reserve, as it were, sir."

"I'll do that willingly, Sergeant."

"Then--p 'raps sir--you might happen to know--which finger?"

"The third finger of the left hand, I believe Sergeant."

"Here's Aunt Priscilla now," said Small Porges, at this juncture.

"Lord!" exclaimed the Sergeant, "and sixteen minutes afore her usual time!"

Yes,--there was Miss Priscilla, her basket of sewing upon her arm, as gentle, as unruffled, as placid as usual. And yet it is probable that she divined something from their very att.i.tudes, for there was a light in her eyes, and her cheeks seemed more delicately pink than was their wont. Thus, as she came toward them, under the ancient apple-trees, despite her stick, and her white hair, she looked even younger, and more girlish than ever.

At least, the Sergeant seemed to think so, for, as he met her look, his face grew suddenly radiant, while a slow flush crept up under the tan of his cheek, and the solitary hand he held out to her, trembled a little, for all its size, and strength.

"Miss Priscilla, mam--" he said, and stopped. "Miss Priscilla," he began again, and paused once more.

"Why--Sergeant!" she exclaimed, though it was a very soft little exclamation indeed,--for her hand still rested in his, and so she could feel the quiver of the strong fingers, "why--Sergeant!"

"Miss Priscilla,--" said he, beginning all over again, but with no better success.

"Goodness me!" exclaimed Miss Priscilla, "I do believe he is going to forget to enquire about the peaches!"

"Peaches!" repeated the Sergeant, "Yes, Priscilla."

"And--why?"

"'Cause he's brought you a ring," Small Porges broke in, "a very handsome ring, you know, Aunt Priscilla,--all diamonds an' jewels, an'

he wants you to please let him put it on your finger--if you don't mind."

"And--here it is!" said the Sergeant, and gave it into her hand.

Miss Priscilla stood very silent, and very still, looking down at the glittering gems, then, all at once, her eyes filled, and a slow wave of colour dyed her cheeks:

"Oh Sergeant!" she said, very softly, "Oh Sergeant, I am only a poor, old woman--with a lame foot!"

"And I am a poor, old soldier--with only one arm, Priscilla."

"You are the strongest, and gentlest, and bravest soldier in all the world, I think!" she answered.

"And you, Priscilla, are the sweetest, and most beautiful _woman_ in the world, I _know!_ And so--I've loved you all these years, and--never dared to tell you so, because of my--one arm."

"Why then," said Miss Priscilla, smiling up at him through her tears, "if you do--really--think that,--why,--it's this finger, Sergeant!"

So the Sergeant, very clumsily, perhaps, because he had but the one hand, slipped the ring upon the finger in question. And Porges, Big, and Small, turning to glance back, as they went upon their way saw that he still held that small white hand pressed close to his lips.

CHAPTER XXII

_Coming events cast their shadows before_

"I s'pose they'll be marrying each other, one of these fine days!" said Small Porges as they crossed the meadow, side by side.

"Yes, I expect so, Shipmate," nodded Bellew, "and may they live long, and die happy, say I."

"Aye, aye, Captain,--an' Amen!" returned Small Porges.

Now as they went, conversing of marriage, and ships, and the wonders, and marvels of foreign lands,--they met with Adam who stared up at the sky and muttered to himself, and frowned, and shook his head.

"Good arternoon, Mr. Belloo sir,--an' Master Georgy!"

"Well, Adam, how are the hops?"

"'Ops sir,--there never was such 'ops,--no, not in all Kent, sir. All I'm wishin' is that they was all safe picked, an' gathered. W'ot do you make o' them clouds, sir,--over there,--jest over the p'int o' the oast-house?"

Bellew turned, and cast a comprehensive, sailor-like glance in the direction indicated.

"Rain, Adam, and wind,--and plenty of it!" said he.