Peregrine's Progress Part 13

"Dammit, what a repulsive object I look!" he groaned. "And yet, what matter? Yes--it's just as well she should have seen me at my very worst! And yet--these cursed bristles! I tell you she's an angel, Perry!"

"And hungry, Anthony."

"So she is, sweet soul!" he exclaimed and was gone as he spoke, to reappear in another moment ushering in our fair guest, whose mere presence and dainty grace seemed to make the dingy chamber more sweet and homelike.

"Madam," said I, taking up the carving-knife and bowing as she seated herself between us, "I fear we can offer you but the very simplest of fare, but if you are hungry--"

"Ravenous, sir!" said she, with a little upward motion of the eyes that I thought very engaging. "I have eaten nothing since I ran away this morning--"

"And this beef cuts very well!" said I. And so we began to eat forthwith, speaking but seldom (and Anthony not at all) until our hunger was somewhat appeased.

More than once I had noticed her bright eyes flit from the elegance of my garments to the ruin of Anthony's; at last she spoke:

"And you are--two friends, I understand?" she questioned.

"Yes, madam," answered Anthony, "of about six hours standing. My friend Mr. Vereker found me upon the road and took pity on my dest.i.tution. It is to Peregrine we are indebted for the food we eat--"

"And to Anthony for your safety. As to friends.h.i.+p," I pursued, "it is a gift of heaven, greater than time and born in a moment--and this I hope may endure as long as time, because Anthony is the only friend I possess."

Now at this she leaned back and glanced at us beneath wrinkled brows for a moment, then suddenly and with sweet impulse she reached out a hand to each of us.

"Then let us all be friends," said she, "for I am lonely too!"

So for a long moment we sat thus, hand in hand, and neither speaking.

"And now," said she at last, "since we are friends, I want you to know how I came to run such risks. I am Barbara Knollys, and my father wishes me to marry a man I hate, so I determined to run away to my aunt Aspasia, because, though I fear my father, my father fears aunt Aspasia more. Captain Danby offered to escort me to aunt's house at Sevenoaks, but once I was in his chaise I grew afraid of him and instead of following the high road he drove by desolate lanes and--oh, he was hateful and so at last we came here. And now you say that Captain Danby has gone?" she enquired of Anthony.

"Quite!" said he a little grimly. "He is, I believe, snug in bed."

"I trust, sir, you--didn't--hurt him--more than was--necessary?"

"Rest a.s.sured of it, madam."

"Heaven is very kind to have brought me out of such danger and set me safe in the care of--gentlemen," said she, glancing from one to other of us.

"Rest a.s.sured of this also, madam!" said I, while Anthony looked from her to me with s.h.i.+ning eyes. At this moment we started, all three, as borne to our ears came the distant rumble of thunder, followed by a fierce wind-gust that rattled crazy door and lattice and, dying in a dismal wail, left behind the mournful sound of pattering rain.

"O heavens!" exclaimed our companion, clasping slender hands. "A storm--and I am terrified of thunder--"

"It will soon pa.s.s!" said I.

"But I must start at once!" she faltered. "I must reach my aunt's house to-night."

"There is the chaise!" suggested Anthony.

"Ah, no, no--impossible!" she cried. "The chaise was engaged by Captain Danby and the postillion is in his pay--"

"The chaise shall be ready whenever you desire," said Anthony, rising, "and the postillion shall drive you wherever you appoint if--if you can trust yourself to the care of such a--a down-at-heels rogue as--myself."

"Mr. Anthony," said she, very gravely, "this morning I was a foolish girl--to-night I am a woman--my adventure has taught me much--and a woman always knows whom she may trust. And you are a friend and a gentleman, and one I can trust and so I accept your offer most thankfully." Saying which, she reached out her hand to him and with such a look as made me half wish myself in Anthony's place. So he took her hand, made as though to raise it to his lips, then loosed it and stood with bowed head, seemingly lost in contemplation of his broken boots.

"Thanks!" he mumbled. "I--I--thank you!"

"Now I must prepare for the road!" said she and sped away with never so much as a glance at me, leaving Anthony staring after her like one in a dream, and I saw his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Perry!" he exclaimed, "O Perry--did you hear her?" And crossing to the little mirror he stood to behold his reflection again. "She has given me back my self-respect!" said he. And then, "Oh, for a barber!"

he groaned. "d.a.m.n this stubble. I look like an accursed gooseberry!

And now for the chaise, she must be safe with her aunt to-night, sweet soul. And she trusts me, Perry--me!" Here he turned to scowl at his reflection again. "An angel!" he murmured.

"But Anthony, if one of the horses has cast a shoe--"

"Shoe?" he repeated dreamily. "The prettiest, daintiest shoe in all Christendom. I noticed it particularly as she stood there--on that old, worn mat--"

Seeing him so lost, I ventured to shake his arm and repeat my query, whereupon he roused and nodded.

"To be sure. Perry, to be sure! We must persuade our ostler and postboy to find us another--let us see to it forthwith!" So saying, he picked up Captain Danby's heavy cane and with it gripped in purposeful hand, led the way from the room.

CHAPTER VIII

I AM LEFT FORLORN

At the extreme end of a narrow and somewhat dingy pa.s.sage we came on a door, from behind which proceeded a din of voices in loud confabulation, together with much jingling of gla.s.ses, so that I judged the worthies we sought were engaged upon what I believe is known as "making a night of it."

This hoa.r.s.e babel ended suddenly as, opening the door, Anthony strode in, his whole person and att.i.tude suggestive of that air I have already mentioned as one of polite ferocity.

"Aha!" said he, feet wide-planted, Captain Danby's stout cane bending in his powerful hands. "How far is it to Sevenoaks, pray?"

"Better nor seven mile!" answered the surly landlord, setting down his spirit-gla.s.s.

"Ah, all o' that!" nodded the ostler over his tankard.

"Every bit!" added the postboy.

"An' 'oo might you be?" demanded an individual in top-boots, a large man chiefly remarkable for a pair of fierce, black whiskers and a truculent eye.

"Seven miles!" exclaimed Anthony, unheeding his interrupter. "I had feared it shorter--oh, excellent! Now my lads, we require the chaise--up with you, set to the horses and be ready to start in ten minutes at most. Come--bustle!"

"Lord!" exclaimed Black Whiskers, "You'd think 'e was a nearl or a jook to 'ear un--'oo is 'e?"

"Why, it's 'im as we was tellin' you of, Mr. Vokes!" quoth the landlord.

"'Is werry own selluf!" nodded the postboy.