Our Admirable Betty Part 86

"Hast been up to wish him good-night, Bet?"

"Nay, he was asleep, dear boy, and looked so young, aunt, for all his trials."

"Trials do but better us, child--or should do. Good-night, my sweet, and pleasant dreams!" So they kissed each other and went their several ways.

Reaching her chamber my lady sent her maid to bed, locked the door, took a key from her bosom and, from its hiding-place among dainty, perfumed garments and laces, drew forth the Ramillie coat. Then she set it upon the back of a chair and, hanging thus, the well-worn garment fell into such natural folds and creases that its owner might almost have been inside it. The night was hot and still, and through the open lattice stole the languorous perfume of honeysuckle, and breathing in the sweetness my lady sighed as she began to undress; yet in the midst of this dainty business, chancing to glance at the Ramillie coat she blushed and started instinctively so lifelike was that broad back and the set of those square shoulders.

And now in dainty night-rail and be-ribanded cap she sat down and leaned near to snuff delicately at the worn and faded garment.

Tobacco! How coa.r.s.e and hateful! And yet how vividly it brought his stately presence before her, his slow, grave smile, his clear, youthful eyes, his serene brow, and all his shy yet virile personality.

Tobacco! Him! O was there in all the world quite such another man, so brave, so chivalrous--and so unmodish?

Here in the sleeve was a rent, even as the Sergeant had said, and very featly mended by the Sergeant's own skilful fingers; a jagged rent it had been and even now she could see a faint stain--she s.h.i.+vered, for now she saw other like stains were here also. So my lady shuddered, yet, doing so, leaned nearer and drew the threadbare sleeve about her snowy neck and thus espied the yawning side-pocket. My lady peeped into it, hesitated, then plunged slim hand into those cavernous depths.

His clay pipe. His silver tobacco-box. A ma.s.s of torn paper. A letter sealed with his signet, and my lady sighed rapturously for it was addressed thus:

"To Lady Elizabeth Carlyon."

With this in one hand, the Ramillie coat in the other, she crossed to her great high bed and, seated there, the coat beside her on laced pillow, drew the candles a little nearer, broke the seals and read:

"DEAR LADY AND MY LOVE,

When you receive this I shall be beyond seas and 'tis like I shall not see you again for I leave suddenly and unknown to any.

All this summer afternoon I have sat here striving to tell you why this must be, and now my labour is lost for I have destroyed my letter since it doth seem that it might perchance have pained you to read it almost as much as me to write. So I have destroyed it since I would spare you pain now and ever. Of late I have been sick, not of body so much as mind, and mayhap once or twice have suffered harsh thoughts of thee, but to-day these are gone and out of mind, and love for thee burns within me true and steadfast as it shall do until I cease to be--aye, and beyond. For if I have grieved of late yet have I known joys undreamed and have looked and seen what Happiness is like unto, wherefore I do not repine that Happiness hath not stayed. Love and I have lived so long estranged that now methinks I am not fitted, so do I go back to the things I understand. But Happiness hath stooped to me a little while to brush me with his pinions ere he fled and hath left with me a glory shall never fade. So now, dear maid that I do love and ever shall beyond mine understanding, here do I take my leave of thee.

I ride alone henceforth yet shall I not be solitary since thy sweet memory goeth beside me even unto my journey's end.

JOHN D'ARCY."

And now my lady turned and looked upon that war-worn coat through a mist of tears and sinking down, laid soft cheek upon its tarnished braid and lay thus a long while, the letter clasped to swelling bosom.

Then starting up she gathered those torn sc.r.a.ps of paper and strove to piece them together; but they were inextricably mixed, yet here and there the fragment of some sentence would leap to meet her.

"... my breaking heart ... ever doubted thine eyes so sweet and true ... joy for me is dead, the world a black nothingness ... O that night with thee in the dawn when earth touched heaven ... if Death should meet me in the field I'll meet him gladly ... my Love, my Betty, leaving thee I leave my very soul behind ... my farewell to thee and to love ... forget thee never..."

These she saw and many more. Every sc.r.a.p of crumpled paper she smoothed with gentle fingers and every written word she read and laid tenderly aside.

And now, since she had pried thus far, she opened the other missive also, a folded sheet of paper, and saw this:

"I, John d'Arcy of Shevening Manor, Westerham, Kent, in the event of my falling in action do will and bequeath as follows:

To Zebedee Tring my servant late of His Majesty's Third Regiment of Foot the sum of Five Thousand Pounds and any cottage he may choose on my estate.

To Mrs. Agatha Ridley the sum of One Thousand Pounds: But should she marry the aforesaid Zebedee Tring then I bequeath to them a marriage portion of Four Thousand Pounds making Ten Thousand Pounds in all.

And all the rest I die possessed of soever both land and monies I leave unconditionally to my dear Lady Elizabeth Carlyon.

JOHN D'ARCY."

Having folded this up again and laid it by, Lady Betty sat awhile very still, staring out into the fragrant, summer night. Then she blew out the candle and lying amid the gloom, fell to sudden, stifled sobbing and m.u.f.fled, pa.s.sionate whispers, her head pillowed upon a certain mended coat-sleeve; and when at last she fell asleep, that shabby, war-worn garment lay close about her loveliness.

CHAPTER XLVII

OF A FEMININE COUNCIL OF WAR

The Sergeant was at all times an early riser, but this morning he was abroad with the sun itself--a sun whose level beams wrought gloriously in dew-spangled gra.s.s underfoot, in scarlet, pink and flaming gold overhead and added fresh beauty to herb and leaf and flower; a fair, fragrant, golden morning where dismal Doubt had no place and Hope lilted in the joyous pipe of the birds, insomuch that the Sergeant paused to snuff the balmy air and to glance up at radiant sky and round about upon radiant earth feeling that life was sweet and held its best yet in store even for a battered sergeant of forty-three. And standing thus, his grim features relaxed, and for once in his busy life he fell to dreaming and forgot awhile the work that had lured him forth so very early; at length he roused himself and marched across wide lawns and along yew-bordered walks to his small tool-house, whistling softly as he went. And now, armed with nail-box, hammer, saw etc., he presently reached the work--a rustic pergola in course of construction; a very artful work this, in every respect, requiring many fierce contractions of the eyebrows, sudden fallings back two paces to the rear with head jerked suddenly left or right to judge of angle, alignment, nice proportion and the like.

The Sergeant, whistling still, had driven his first nail and had fallen back, eyebrows contracted, to judge the effect, when he wheeled suddenly about and dropped the hammer:

"Sergeant--O Sergeant Zebedee!"

Picking up the hammer, he set off at the double and reaching the orchard, halted at the foot of the wall, saluted and stared up wondering at my lady's lovely, anxious face.

"You be early abroad, mam."

"O I was here before dawn--waiting for you. Tell me, is--is the Major in?"

"The Major, mam? Aye, and sound asleep!"

"Are you sure--quite sure, Sergeant?"

"Sure, my lady. I went in but now to draw his curtains according to custom and found him sleeping soft as any child, G.o.d be thanked. But why----"

"Because he intends to go away--soon."

"Where to, my lady?"

"Back to the wars."

The Sergeant swore, apologised immediately, and saluted.

"Be you sure, my lady?"

"Quite, O quite, Sergeant."

"But he would never go without me, mam, couldn't possibly--'twould be agin natur', d'ye see."

"But he will, Sergeant, he hath written me so--he will ride away--steal away at midnight---alone--to-night mayhap or to-morrow night--we must stay him."

The Sergeant stared grimly at a bold thrush that hopped upon the gra.s.s near by.