Peregrine's Progress Part 100

For a long moment I stood thus, grasping my horse's bridle, s.h.i.+vering from head to foot, and staring at the black and ominous shape before me in wide-eyed terror; then I heard that which brought me to myself--nay, transformed me into a cool, dispa.s.sionate, relentless creature, reckless of all harms and dangers, intent only upon the one desperate purpose.

Leading my horse in among the trees, I tethered him securely and began to approach the barn very cautiously and with every nerve and sinew strung to instant action, my heavy riding-whip grasped in ready hand.

The knocking had ceased and, creeping nearer, I found the doors open and, from the pitchy gloom of the interior, heard a hoa.r.s.e gasping that spoke of vicious effort.

"Be d.a.m.ned t' ye, d.i.c.k!" panted a hoa.r.s.e voice. "'Eave, man--'eave--her's a-laying across the trap--push, d.a.m.n ye--"

"Aye, Tom--but her's got a knife!" panted a second voice. "Don't 'e forget 'er's got a knife!"

"An' what--good'll her knife be--once we get--our 'ands on 'er--'eave, I tell ye--both together--now!"

"Bide a bit, Tom--let's 'ave a light--"

"Light be d.a.m.ned--'eave, man!"

Fumbling my way to the wall, I began to creep towards the creaking ladder where these panting, wrestling, evil things strove so desperately. Once or twice came a swift beam of light, vivid in the pervading blackness, as the trap door was forced up an inch or so; brief, sudden gleams, that showed me the forms of two men crouched upon the ladder, their shoulders bowed in pa.s.sionate effort; and I waited until, loud-panting with their desperate exertions, they began to force up the trap again.

"Now, d.i.c.k--now!" gasped a voice; and then as they strove again, I leapt and smote with all my strength. A squeal of pain and terror, the sudden slam of the trap closing out all light, the impact of a heavy body upon the rotting hay that littered the floor, and a feeble, whining voice.

"Tom--O Tom--there's summat in 'ere wi' us--hurted bad I be--there's summat in 'ere as 'ave cut my 'ead open, Tom. O Tom, come down an'

'elp a pal--"

"What are ye yelpin' over now--and be cursed!" panted the man Tom from the ladder. "Th' gal's got money, I tell ye, an' 'er's a 'andsome t.i.t into the bargain, so it's up wi' this 'ere trap--"

"O Tom, summat 'it me--come on down! There's summat or some one 'ere wi' us--come down an' see--"

"'Ow can us see wi'out a light?"

"Well, I got my tinder box."

I heard the man Tom stumble down the ladder, heard the sound of flint and steel, saw their two evil heads outlined against the glow of the tinder as they blew and, leaping upon them, I smote with my heavy riding-whip again and yet again.

And now in the black horror of this ruined barn was pandemonium, a wild uproar of shouts and cries, the sound of vicious blows, the shock of groaning bodies.

If they were two, they fought a mad creature who, careless of defence, unconscious of his own hurts, sought only to maim and rend; whether reeling in desperate grapple or rolling half-smothered beneath my a.s.sailants, I fought as a wild beast might, utterly regardless of myself, with fingers that wrenched and tore, fists that smote untiring, feet that kicked and trampled, head that drove and b.u.t.ted--I was indeed a living weapon, as senseless to pain and as merciless--intent only on destruction.

All suddenly was silence, a blessed quiet, save for the hoa.r.s.e pant of my own breathing. Stumbling to the doorway, I leaned there, vaguely glad the horrid business was over, since I found myself faint and sick. Afar off I heard lugubrious voices that called one to another, a snapping of twigs growing ever fainter, and a rustle of leaves that marked their flight.

Down my cheeks and into my eyes a sticky moisture was trickling that I knew was blood, but the sweet night air revived me greatly so that, my strength returning, I presently--stumbled back into the blackness of the barn, found my way to the ladder and leaned there a while. And after some time, I lifted heavy head and spoke:

"Diana--are you there--my Diana?"

Silence, and a sudden, sickening dread, a growing fear, insomuch that I made s.h.i.+ft to climb the ladder and, lifting heavy hand, rapped upon the trap door:

"Diana--O Diana--are you there?"

An inarticulate cry, and next moment the trap door was lifted, revealing a square of vivid light, and in this radiant glory--Diana's face.

"Diana," said I, wiping the blood from my eyes the better to behold her loveliness, "Diana--when will you--marry me?"

"O Peregrine--oh, my beloved!"

And down to me she reached her strong and gentle arms to draw me up from the darkness into the glory of her presence.

CHAPTER IV

I WAIT FOR A CONFESSION

"O Peregrine! My dear--how they have hurt you!"

She was ministering to my scratches and abrasions, and I, sitting on the old hay-pile, watched her, joying in the gentle touch of her white, dexterous hands, her sweet motherliness and all the warm, vital beauty of her.

"Child," said I, "don't tremble so--the beasts are gone!"

"Yes, I know--I heard everything, Peregrine. And you down there--all alone--to fight them in the dreadful dark! And I once dared to call you coward!"

"So I was, Diana. So I am. It was you gave me courage, then and now--you and--my love for you."

"Your love?" she whispered, and now the tremor was in her voice also.

"It was Love guided me here to-night, Diana--brought me back to you--for ever and always if--if you will have it so."

"O Peregrine," she sighed, leaning towards me, "my Peregrine, then your love for me is not dead as I feared?"

"Nor ever can be," I answered, very conscious of her nearness, "surely true love is immortal, Diana."

"You speak rather like a book, Peregrine."

"I quote from your own letter, Diana."

"And this--strange love of yours, Peregrine, that I feared dead, has come to life again because you know at last how cruelly you misjudged me--you are here because you have found out?"

"I have found out nothing."

"Then--oh--why, then, you still think evil of me?"

"I love you!" said I, leaning towards her, for she had drawn from me a little. "I love you--more than ever, I think, yes, indeed it must be so--because I am here to s.h.i.+eld you with my care--to make you my wife."

"Wife?" she whispered, shrinking yet farther from me. "Your wife? You would marry me in my--vileness--doubting my honour?"

"Your honour shall be mine, henceforth."

Now at this she sat back to regard me beneath wrinkled brows; once her scarlet mouth quivered, though whether she would weep or no I knew not, but before the sweet directness of her eyes I felt strangely abashed and knew again that old consciousness of futility.