"Your honour--sir--I do!"
"G.o.d--bless--my--soul!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Major and stared wide-eyed at cross-belts, buckles and spatterdashes as if he had never seen such things in all his forty-one years. "Is it--insubordination, Sergeant Zebedee?" he demanded, his cheeks flushing.
"Your honour--it be. Same I do admit though same regretting. But sir, if you are for the wars it na"t"rally do follow as I must be.
Wheresoever you go--speaking as soldiers sir, I must go as by natur" so determined now and for ever, amen."
"And what o" the estate, a.s.s? I ha" left you agent here in Mr.
Jennings" room."
"Same is an honour, sir, but dooty demands----"
"And what of Mrs. Agatha, dolt?"
The Sergeant"s broad shoulders drooped quite perceptibly for a moment, then grew rigid again:
"Dooty is--dooty, your honour!"
"And you are a d.a.m.ned obstinate fellow, Zebedee, d"ye hear?"
The Sergeant saluted.
"I say a dolt and a preposterous fool to boot--d"ye take me, Zeb?"
The Sergeant saluted.
"And you talk pure folly--curst folly, d"ye understand, Zebedee?"
"Folly as ever was sir, but--folly for you, folly for me, says I!"
Now at this the Major grew so angry that he dropped a riding-boot and, stooping for it at the same instant as the Sergeant they knocked their hats off and were groping for these when there came a soft rapping at the door and, starting erect, they beheld Mrs. Agatha, smiling and bright-eyed and across one arm she bore--the Ramillie coat.
"Your honour," said she, curtseying, ""tis very late, I know, but I"m here to bring your old battle-coat as I found to-day in the garden, knowing "tis such a favourite with you. Good-night, sir!" So Mrs.
Agatha dimpled, curtseyed and sped softly away, surrept.i.tiously beckoning to the Sergeant.
Left alone, the Major let fall his boots and sinking into a chair sat staring at the Ramillie coat, chin on breast; then he leaned forward to take it up but paused suddenly arrested by a fragrance very faint and elusive yet vaguely familiar; he sighed and sinking deeper into his chair became lost awhile in reverie. At last he roused himself and reaching the garment from where Mrs. Agatha had set it on the table, drew it upon his knees, made as if to feel in the pockets and paused again for now the fragrance seemed all about him, faint but ineffably sweet, a sweetness breathing of--Her. And, inhaling this fragrance, the glamour of her presence was about him, he had but to close his eyes and she was there before him in all her warm and vivid beauty, now smiling in bewitching allurement, now plaintive and tender, now quick-breathing, blushing, trembling to his embrace--even as he was trembling.
So the Major sat grasping his old coat and sighed and yearned amain for the unattainable; imagination rioted and he saw visions and dreamed dreams of happiness as far beyond expression as they were beyond hope of realisation. Wherefore he groaned, cursed himself for a fool and casting the Ramillie coat to the floor, set his foot upon it; and frowning down at this worn-out garment, how should he guess of those bitter tears that had bedewed its tarnished braid, of the soft cheek that had pressed it, the white arms that had cradled it so recently?
How indeed should Major d"Arcy as he scowled down at it know aught of this? Though to be sure there was that haunting fragrance, that sweetness that breathed of--Her. Suddenly he stooped and picking it up, raised it to his nostrils; yes it was here--particularly the right sleeve and shoulder. He closed his eyes again, then opening them very wide plunged a hand into the nearest pocket.
His pipe! His silver tobacco-box! In another pocket his purse and a few odds and ends but nothing more. He ransacked the garment feverishly but in place of will, torn paper and letter, he found only one other letter, sealed and addressed thus,
"To Major d"Arcy."
Letting the coat slip to the floor he sank back in the chair, staring long at superscription and seal; then he drew the candle nearer and opening the letter read as follows:
"DEAR SIR,
If this sorry coat looketh a little more creased and rumpled than it is wont to do, this is entirely my fault. And because I am as much a woman as our common mother Eve I have read every doc.u.ment in every pocket. And because every doc.u.ment was for me or of me I have kept them. Yet because, after all, I am truly a very honest person, I do return this your garment herewith together with all other articles soever herein contained, as namely and to wit: Item, one clay pipe and smells! Item, tobacco-box of silver, much scratched. Item, a tobacco-stopper of silver-gilt. Item, a silver sixpence with a hole in it. Item, one purse containing three guineas, one crown piece and a shilling. Item, a small knife for making pens and very blunt. O John, O Jack, great strong tender chivalrous man, and doth thy poor heart break? Stay then, my love shall make it whole again. And wilt thou to the cruel wars? Then will I after thee. And wilt thou die? Then will I die with thee. But O John if thou wilt live, then will I live to love thee better day by day for I am thine and thou art mine henceforth and for ever. But now do I lie here sleepless and grieving for thee and writing this do weep (see how my tears do blot the page) and none to comfort me save thine old coat. O John, John, how couldst have writ such things--to tear my heart and blind me with my tears--yet do I love thee. And thou didst break thine oath to me and yet do I love thee.
And thou wouldst have left me--stolen away to give thy body unto cruel death and slay me with despair but still--still do I love thee dearest John. Shouldst thou steal away like a very coward I would be bold to follow thee--aye even into battle itself--so fly not John. And since thou didst break thine oath--thou shalt sue me an humble pardon. And since I do lie sleepless here and weep by reason of thee--so shalt thou make unto me a comfortable reparation. So dear John to-morrow night at nine-thirty of the clock thou shalt meet me at our stile--where we did watch the dawn--and there all thy doubts and fears shall be resolved and vanish utterly away for ever and ever and thou (as I do think) shalt learn to love me even a little better. So come my John at nine-thirty of the clock but not an instant sooner and fail not for my sake and thy sake and Love"s sweet sake. O John my love "tis nigh to dawn, art thou waking or asleep I wonder? Since I am thine so utterly, fain would I write that which I dare not write yet in these lines read all thou fain wouldst read. G.o.d keep thee my love and waking or sleeping thou hast the prayers and thoughts of thy Betty.
My poor eyes are all bleared with my weeping and my nose is woeful.
And John dear take care of this dear old coat it shall be my comforter this night."
Having read to the end, the Major carefully re-folded the letter and thrust it into an inner pocket; took it out again, unfolded it and having re-read every word once more put it away. Then rising, he set the Ramillie coat upon a chair-back and taking out his handkerchief dusted it, touching its rumpled folds with hands grown almost reverent, which done he sat down and propping square chin on fist gazed at it with a new and wonderful interest. Then he took out the letter again, read it through again and pressed it to his lips; thus he sat, his attention divided between the letter and the coat, until the clock struck two. He was reading the letter for perhaps the sixth time when came a knock at the door and the Sergeant entered.
"Ax your pardon sir, but what o" the horses?" he enquired.
"Horses?" repeated the Major vacantly.
"Aye sir, they"ve been a-standing in their stalls saddled and bridled a hour or more."
"Have they, Zeb?"
"Aye sir, a-waiting for your honour to give the word to march."
"Why then Zeb," said the Major rising and taking the Ramillie coat over his arm, "you may unsaddle "em, my honour has decided--not to march."
"Very good, sir!" The Sergeant blinked, saluted and wheeled about.
"Sergeant Zebedee!" The Sergeant wheeled back again.
"Sir?"
"I think--ha--I rather fancy I called you a d.a.m.ned obstinate fellow as "twere and er--so forth."
"You did so, sir. Likewise "a.s.s" and "dolt.""
"Why if I said "em, I meant "em, Zebedee and----" The Major strode forward impulsively and grasped Sergeant Zebedee"s hand. ""Twas true Zeb, "twas true every word, so you are, but--G.o.d bless thee for"t, Zeb!" Saying which the Major went upstairs to his chamber bearing the Ramillie coat much as if it had been some sacred relic rather than the rumpled, unlovely thing it was.
Being alone the Sergeant stared at his right hand, smiled, took it in his left and shook it heartily. "_Sapperment_!" he exclaimed, "All I says is, O woman!"
CHAPTER XLIX
OF A JOURNEY BY NIGHT
The Major stood chin in hand staring at the weather-beaten stile, set a little back from the road between high hedges and shaded by the spreading boughs of a great tree; its worn timbers were gnarled and twisted with years and the rigours of succeeding winters and, in its length of days, many were the lovers had sighed and kissed and plighted troth beside it; and yet of them all surely never a one had waited with more impatience or hearkened more eagerly for the quick, light tread of approaching feet than Major John d"Arcy, for all his quiescent att.i.tude and apparent calm, as he stood in the light of the rising moon staring gravely at the rickety fabric.
It was here he had held her to his breast as night melted into day, it was here he had kissed her in the dawn--and to-night----The Major"s big hand touched the warped crossbar and rested there a little tremulously.
And standing thus he fell to thinking of love and the never-ceasing wonder of it and to-night----!
"So dear John to-morrow at nine-thirty of the clock thou shalt meet me at our stile--where we did watch the dawn and there all thy doubts and fears shall be resolved and vanish utterly away for ever and ever, and thou (as I do think) shalt learn to love me even a little better. So come my John at nine-thirty of the clock but not an instant sooner and fail not for my sake and thy sake and Love"s sweet sake."