Our Admirable Betty Part 34

"Nay sir, here's spells and witchcraft! 'Tis an ill place and an ill hour--come your ways wi' me, sir."

"Aye, 'tis witchcraft--spells and enchantments, as 'twere, Zeb, but 'twill pa.s.s. Lend me your arm." So saying the Major rose and began to limp towards the house. But, as they went thus, side by side, he paused to glance up at the waning moon. "'Tis a fair night, Zeb, I've never seen a fairer. What o'clock is it?"

"Nigh on to three, your honour."

"So late! How time doth flee a man once youth be gone. We've kept many a night-watch together ere now, Zeb, but the hours never sped so fast in those days, we were younger then, Zebedee, so much younger, d'ye see."

Being come into his study the Major stood beside his desk staring down at his orderly papers and doc.u.ments, vacant-eyed.

"You'll come to bed now, sir?" enquired the Sergeant anxiously.

"Nay Zeb, 'tis so late I'll e'en sit and watch the dawn come."

"Why then sir, you'll take something to eat and drink? Do now!"

The Major shook his head:

"I want nought, Zeb, save to be--alone."

Sergeant Zebedee sighed heavily, shook doleful head and going out, shut the door softly behind him.

"That it should be Effingham of all men, or one so hatefully like!"

The Major clenched his hands and began to pace restlessly back and forth. And now came Memory to haunt him--her sweet, soft voice, the droop of her black lashes, the way she had of pouting red lips sometimes when thoughtful, her eyes, her hands, her quick, light feet, and all the infinite allurement of her. And now----!

"That it should be--Effingham!"

Here again he was seized of faintness and nausea, fierce tremors shook him and sinking into his elbow-chair he sat crouched above the desk, his face bowed between clutching hands. Sitting thus, the great house so still and silent all about him, he must needs remember how she had called it a "desolate" house. And, in truth, so it was and must be for him now until the end. The end?

Once more he rose and took to his restless pacing. What end was there for him now but a succession of dreary days, while old age crept upon him bringing with it loneliness and solitude--a great, empty house and himself a solitary, loveless old man. And he had dreamed of others perchance to bear his name! G.o.d, what a life it might have been! And now, this was the end; he had walked in a "fool's paradise" indeed.

Pausing in his tramping he lifted haggard eyes to the pistols on the wall; with fumbling hands he opened a certain drawer in his desk, and, taking thence a brown wisp that once had been a fragrant rose, looked down at it awhile with eyes very tender, then let it fall and set his foot upon it, and leaning back in his chair stared down at all that remained. Long he sat thus, chin on breast, his drawn face half buried in the gay curls of his glossy peruke, but now his gaze had wandered back to the pistols on the wall. The candles, guttering in their sockets, burned low and lower, flickered and went out, but he sat on, motionless and very still; at last he sighed, stirred, rose from his chair, reached groping hand up to the wall and stood suddenly rigid.

"Major John, dear, some of your tenants are miserably poor, Major John!"

It was as if she had uttered these words again, the small room seemed to echo her soft voice, the darkness seemed full of her fragrant presence. The Major sank back in the chair and covered his face with twitching fingers; but, little by little, upon the gloom about him stole a faint glow, a tender radiance, an ever-brightening glory and lo, it was day. And presently, beholding this gladsome light, he lifted drooping head and glanced about him.

"Betty!" he whispered, "O sweet woman of my dream, though the dream vanish memory abideth and in my memory I will hold thee pure and sweet and fragrant everlastingly!"

Then he arose and heeding no more the pistols on the wall, went forth calm-eyed into the golden, joyous freshness of the dawn.

CHAPTER XX

HOW THE MAJOR RAN AWAY

Larks, high in air, carolled faint and sweet, birds chirped joyously from fragrant hedgerows, a gentle wind set leaves dancing merrily, and the Major's big bay mare, being full of life and the joy of it, tossed her shapely head and beat a tattoo with her four round hoofs; but the Major rode with shoulders drooping and in gloomy silence, wherefore the Sergeant trotting behind on his stout cob, stared at the woebegone figure and shook anxious head:

"She's a bit skittish, sir," he hazarded at last as the powerful bay pranced sideways toward the hedge, "a bit wilful-like, your honour!"

"She's so young, Zeb," answered the Major absently, "so young, so full of life and youth that 'tis but to be--eh, what the devil are you saying, Sergeant Zebedee?"

"Why your honour, I----"

"Hold your tongue, sir!"

"But sir," began the Sergeant, wondering to see his master's face so red all at once, "I did but----"

"Be silent!" said the Major and, giving his mare the rein, rode on ahead while the Sergeant trotted after staring in turn at the blooming hedges, the white road, the blue sky and the Major's broad back.

"'Sn.i.g.g.e.rs!" he exclaimed at last under his breath,

Presently the road narrowed between high, sloping banks clothed with brush and bramble from amid which tangle a man rose suddenly, a tall, dark, gipsy-looking fellow, at whose unexpected appearance the Major's bay mare swerved and reared, all but unseating her rider; whereat the fellow laughed vindictively, the Sergeant swore and the Major soothed his plunging steed with voice and hand. Breathing fierce anathemas and dire threats, the Sergeant was in the act of dismounting when the Major stopped him peremptorily.

"But sir, 'tis a rogue, 'tis a plaguy rascal, 'tis a----"

"'Tis no matter, Zeb."

"But damme sir, same do be a-shaking his dirty fist at your honour this moment! Sir, I beg----"

"'Tis very natural, Zeb."

"Nat'ral sir, and wherefore?"

"I--er--had occasion to--ha--flog the fellow."

"Flogged him, sir?"

"And broke my--ha--very modish cane a-doing it!"

"Cane, sir?" repeated the Sergeant, jogging alongside again. "Ha, and brought home his bludgeon instead, I mind, not so ornymental--but a deal handier, your honour."

Here the Major fell again to gloomy abstraction, observing which the Sergeant held his peace until, having climbed a steepish ascent, they came where stood a finger-post at the parting of the ways and here the Sergeant ventured another question:

"And wherefore flog same, sir?"

"Eh?" said the Major, starting, "O, for a good and sufficient reason, Zeb, and----" He broke off with a sudden breathless exclamation and the Sergeant, following the direction of his wide gaze, beheld three people approaching down a shady bye-road.

"Why sir," he exclaimed, "here's my Lady Carlyon as----"

The Major wheeled his big bay and, clapping in spurs, galloped off in the opposite direction.

"_Sapperment!_" exclaimed the Sergeant. He was yet staring in amazement after his master's rapidly retreating figure when he became aware that my lady had reined up her horse beside him.

"Why Sergeant," she questioned, "O Sergeant, what is't? Why did he spur away at sight of me?"

"Bewitchment, mam--black magic and sorcery d.a.m.ned, my lady!" answered the Sergeant, shaking rueful head. "Last night, your ladys.h.i.+p, he see the devil, same being in form of a apparation----"