Harbor Tales Down North Part 12

"She've dignity," thought he, "an' she've learn-in'. Moreover, she've high connections in St. John's an' a wonderful complexion."

d.i.c.kie meant it. Ay. And many a man, and many a poor maid, too, as everybody knows, has cast happiness to waste in a mood of that mad description. And so a tragedy impended.

"Is it you, d.i.c.k?" says Peggy Lacey.

d.i.c.kie nodded and scowled.

"'Tis I. Was you lookin' for somebody else t' call?"

"No, d.i.c.kie."

It was almost an interrogation. Peggy Lacey was puzzled. d.i.c.kie Blue's gloomy concern was out of the way.

"Well," said d.i.c.ky, "I'm sorry."

"An' why?"

"Well," d.i.c.kie declared, "if you was expectin' anybody else t' come t'

see you, I'd be glad t' have un do so. 'Tis a dismal evenin' for you t' spend alone."

Almost, then, Peggy Lacey's resolution failed her. Almost she protested that she would have a welcome for no other man in the world.

Instead she turned arch.

"Did you bring the mail?" she inquired.

"I did."

"Was there nothin' for me?"

"There was."

"A letter!"

"Ay."

Peggy Lacey trembled. Confronting, thus intimately, the enormity she proposed, she was shocked. She concealed her agitation, however, and laid strong hands upon her wicked resolution to restrain its flight.

"Nothin' else?" said she.

"Ay; there was more."

"Not a small packet!"

"Ay; there was a small packet. I 'low you been expectin' some such gift as that, isn't you?"

"A gift! Is it from St. John's?"

"Ay."

"Then I been expectin' it," Peggy eagerly admitted. "Where is it, d.i.c.kie? I'm in haste to pry into that packet."

The letter and the package were handed over.

"'Tis not hard," said d.i.c.kie, "t' guess the contents of a wee box like that. I could surmise them myself."

Peggy started.

"Wh-wh-what!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "You know the contents! Oh, dear me!"

"No, I don't know the contents. I could guess them, though, an I had a mind to."

"You never could guess. 'Tis not in the mind of a man t' fathom such a thing as that. There's a woman's secret in this wee box."

"'Tis a ring."

"A ring!" Peggy challenged. "You'd not care, d.i.c.kie Blue, an 'twas a ring t' betroth me!"

d.i.c.kie Blue was sure that his surmise had gone cunningly to its mark.

Pride flashed to the rescue of his self-esteem. His face flared. He rose in wrath.

"Betrothed, is you?" he flung out. "I'll weather it, maid! Ha! I'll weather it!"

"Weather it!" cried poor Peggy, in a flame of indignation.

"I'm not hurt!"

"Sit you down!"

"I'll not sit down. I'm goin'."

"Sit you down, oaf that you is!" Peggy Lacey commanded. "I'll read my letter an' open my packet an' return. Don't ye budge! Don't ye dare!"

Peggy Lacey swept out of the kitchen. Her head was high. There was no compa.s.sion in her heart. Nor was she restrained by any lingering fear of the consequences of that wicked deceit to the immediate practice of which she had committed herself. And as for d.i.c.kie Blue, he sat stock-still where she had bade him remain, his eyes wide with the surprise of the domination. He did not budge. He did not dare.

Precisely what Peggy Lacey did in the seclusion of her chamber it would be indelicate to disclose. Moreover, I am not minutely aware of all the intricacies of the employment of those mysterious means by which she accomplished the charming effect that she did in some intuitive way presently accomplish; and at any rate I decline the task of description. I confess, however, that the little packet contained a modest modic.u.m of the necessary materials, whatever they were; and I have no hesitation in praising the generous interest, the discretion and exuberant experience of the gay widow of the late Cap'n Saul Nash o' the _Royal Bloodhound_, whose letter, dealing with the most satisfactory methods of application, as related to the materials aforesaid, whatever they were, and whose wisdom included a happy warning or two--I have no hesitation in admitting that the letter was completely sufficient to enlighten the ignorance of pretty Peggy Lacey, and to steel her resolution and to guide her unreluctant hand in its deceitful work. When at last she stood back from the mirror to survey and appraise the result, she dimpled with delight. It was ravis.h.i.+ng, no doubt about that! It supplied the only lack of which the disclosure of sly old Skipper John had informed her. And she tossed her dark head in a proper saucy fas.h.i.+on, and she touched a strand of hair to deliberate disarray, and smoothed her ap.r.o.n; and then she tripped into the kitchen to exercise the wiles of the little siren that she had become.

"I've cast my everlastin' soul into the balance," poor Peggy accused herself, "an' I don't care a whit!"

All this while d.i.c.kie Blue had occupied himself with more reasonable reflection than he was accustomed to entertain. Doubt alarmed him.

Betrothed, was she? Well, she might be betrothed an she wanted to! Who cared? Still an' all--well, she was young t' be wed, wasn't she? An'

she had no discretion in choice. Poor wee thing, she had given herself t' some wastrel, no doubt! Charlie Rus.h.!.+ Ecod! Huh! 'Twas a poor match for a dear maid like she t' make. An' d.i.c.kie Blue would miss her sadly when she was wed away from his care an' affection. Affection? Ay; he was wonderful fond o' the pallid wee thing. 'Twas a pity she had no color--no blushes t' match an' a.s.sist the roguish loveliness o' the big eyes that was forever near trappin' the heart of a man. Dang it, she was fair anyhow! What was rosy cheeks, after all. They faded like roses. Ah, she was a wonderful dear wee thing! 'Twas a melancholy pity that she was t' be wed so young. Not yet seventeen! Mm-m--'twas far too young. Dang it, Charlie Rush would be home afore long with the means in his pocket for a weddin'! Dang it, they'd be wed when he come! An' then pretty Peggy Lacey would no longer be----

When Peggy Lacey tripped into the kitchen, d.i.c.kie Blue was melancholy with the fear that she was more dear than he had known.

"Peggy!" he gasped.