"Gad love me!" sighed the Viscount, "do"t again Zeb--slowly man and with explanations."
"Why look"ee sir, "tis a trick o" the wrist on the disengage. You are in tierce--so, your point bearing so--very good! You play a thrust, thus d"ye see, then--whip! up comes your point and you follow in with a lunge--so! Try it, my lud."
"Hum!" said the Viscount, taking back his sword.
But having "tried it" once or twice with very indifferent success, he shook his head and, sheathing his weapon, sat down again and grew more despondent than ever. "Sit ye down, Zeb," said he, "the blue devils have me sure."
"Devils, Master Tom sir," said the Sergeant, seating himself on the bench his own hands had contrived, "I aren"t nowise surprised, same do haunt the place o" late, this here orchard being "witched d"ye see and full o" hocus-pocus."
""Tis hard to believe, Zeb, what with the sky so blue and the gra.s.s all dappled with sunlight. Nay "tis a fair world, Zeb, and hard to leave.
Life"s a desirable thing and hard to lose! Save us! What a world "twould be if all women were sweet as they seemed and men as true!"
"Sure there"s a deal o" roguery i" the world Master Pancras--Tom, sir!
As witness--last night!"
The Viscount winced, muttered between clenched teeth and scowled at his fist again:
"Is the Major come home yet?" he enquired.
"Yes, sir. Come in along with Lord Cleeve, same as served under his honour years agone."
"How were they, Zeb?"
"His honour oncommon solemn and my lord oncommon talkative--wouldn"t nowise part wi" his boots, threatened to shoot the first man as dared touch same. Last night must ha" been--a night, sir!"
"Aye!" nodded the Viscount absently. "You told me last night you actually caught the fellow one night--in the orchard here?"
"Fellow, my lud?"
"Mr. Dalroyd."
"I so did, sir--same being in the act o" scaling wall--taking my lady"s garden by escalade as ye might say."
""Twas Dalroyd, you"re--quite sure, Zeb?"
"If "twasn"t--"twere a ghost sir."
"What d"ye mean?"
"The ghost of an officer of Ogle"s as his honour killed in Flanders in a duel, Master Tom."
"Ah!" said the Viscount thoughtfully. "A duel!"
"Aye, sir, only this man"s name were Effingham."
"A duel!" repeated the Viscount. ""Twas over a woman of course?"
"Aye sir, and an evil tale it is and I"m a man o" few words--but if so be you"ve a mind for"t----"
"I have, Zeb--proceed----"
"Well, it seems this Captain Effingham with his company had took prisoner a French officer in his own chateau, d"ye see, and meant to shoot same in the morning for a spy. But to Captain Effingham comes the officer"s wife--young she was and very handsome, and implored the Captain to mercy, which he agreed to if she"d consent to----"
"I take you, Zeb!"
""Twas for her husband"s life and she was very young, sir--I chanced to see her arterwards. So the Captain had his way. Next morning, very early, comes a roll o" musketry. She leaps out o" bed, runs to the lattice and there"s her husband being carried by--dead! So she falls distracted and kills herself wi" the Captain"s sword and arter comes his honour the Major and kills the Captain. "Twas a pretty bout, sir, for the Captain was a master at rapier-play and famous duellist--laid his honour"s head open from eye to ear at the first pa.s.s and, what wi"
the blood-flow and heavy boots I thought his honour was done for more than once--and if he had been, well--I had finger on trigger and "twould ha" been no murder--him!"
"The Major killed him?"
"Dead as mutton, sir."
"Did you bury the villain?"
"No time, sir, we were a flanking party on a forced march, d"ye see."
"And you say Dalroyd is like him?"
"As one musket-ball to another, Master Tom."
"And she was young and beautiful, Zeb?"
"About my lady Betty"s age sir, and much such another."
"Ah!" murmured the Viscount and scowled at his fist again. "Look"ee Zeb, "tis my fancy to master that thrust, every morning when you"ve done with the Major you shall fence a bout or so with me, eh?"
""Twill be joy, Master Tom."
"But, mark this Zeb, none must know of it--especially my uncle. I--I"m minded to surprise him. So not a word and----"
On the warm, sunny air rose a woman"s voice rich, sonorous and clear, singing a plaintive melody. The Viscount rose, flicked a speck from velvet coat-skirts and, crossing the orchard, swung himself astride the wall. My lady Betty was gathering a posy; at the Viscount"s sudden appearance she broke off her song, swept him a curtsey then, standing tall and gracious, shook white finger at him.
"Naughty lad!" said she. "Since when have you taken to philandering in country lanes after midnight?"
The Viscount actually gasped; then took out his snuff-box, fumbled with it and put it away again.
"I--I--Gad preserve me, Bet!" he stammered, "what d"ye mean?"
"I mean, my poor Pancras, since when ha" you taken to spying on me?"
The Viscount"s cheek flushed, then he leaned suddenly forward his hands tight-clenched:
"Betty," said he, his voice sunk almost to a whisper, "O Bet, in G.o.d"s name why d"you meet a man of Dalroyd"s repute--alone and at such an hour?" My lady"s clear gaze never wavered and she laughed gaily:
"Dear Pancras," she cried, "your tragical airs are ill-suited to the top of a wall! Prithee come down to earth, smooth that face of care, dear creature, and let us quarrel agreeably as of yore!"
The Viscount obeyed slowly and looking a little grim:
"Look"ee Bet," said he as they trod the tiled walk together, "I have lived sufficiently long in this world to know that the mind of a woman is beyond a man"s comprehension and that she herself is oft-times the sport of every idle whim----"