"Such a fool, Peregrine, that I"m greatly minded to let you marry me just to see my lady"s face when I take ye back and say, "Ma"m, here"s your precious Peregrine married to a girl o" the roads, ma"m, and a-going to be a man in spite o" you, ma"m!" Oh, tush! And now let"s go on--unless you"m minded to sleep in the wood yonder and no supper."
"As you will!" said I stiffly.
And so, when she had donned her stockings and shoes, we continued our way together, though in silence now.
CHAPTER XXI
IN WHICH I LEARNED THAT I AM LESS OF A COWARD THAN I HAD SUPPOSED
There is, I think, a wistful sadness in the fall of evening, a vague regret for the fading glories of the day which, pa.s.sing out of our lives for ever, leaves us so much the richer or poorer, the n.o.bler or more unworthy, according to the use we have made of the opportunities it has offered us for the doing of good or evil.
Thus I walked pensive through the solemn evening stillness, watching the shadows gathering and the sky slowly deepen to a glimmering dusk, wherein the first faint stars peeped.
Suddenly, from the mysteries of sombre trees hard by, stole the plaintive notes of a blackbird singing, as it were, in poignant, sweet farewell:
"This day, with its joys and sorrows, its pain and travail, its possibilities for works good or evil, is pa.s.sed away. O ye that grieve for chances lost or wasted, that sorrow for wrongs done or good undone, be comforted. Sleep ye in the sure hope that G.o.d of His mercy shall renew your hope for better things with to-morrow"s dawn. So comfort ye!"
As I stood, the better to hear, my mind busied with some such thought as this conjured up of the bird"s evening hymn, Diana"s hand met mine in sudden, warm clasp.
"O Peregrine," she murmured, "so you love the silent places too?"
"Yes!" said I. "Yes! It is in such places that angels walk."
"Angels, Peregrine?"
"Great and n.o.ble thoughts, Diana. These are truly G.o.d"s angels, I think, since they are the inspiration to all great and good works."
"It is in the silent places I am happiest, Peregrine."
"Because you have a soul, thank G.o.d!"
"What do you mean by a "soul," Peregrine?"
"I mean that part of us which cannot perish because it is part of G.o.d Himself. I mean that part of us whereby, in spite of this fleshly body, we may rise above fleshly desires and gain some perception of the Infinite Truth--which is G.o.d. Do you understand, Diana?"
"No, I"m afraid I don"t," she answered wistfully, "but you won"t lose patience wi" me, Peregrine?"
"Never, Diana. How could I when I don"t understand myself. Who does?
The wisest philosophers of all ages have been puzzling over their souls and never understood the wonder of it. Who shall describe the soul and its ultimate end?"
"Well," said she diffidently, "there"s Jerry Jarvis--"
"What, the Tinker?" I exclaimed.
"Yes. He made a verse about the soul--I mean this one--
""And when my time shall come to die I care not where my flesh may lie Because I know my soul shall fly Back to the stars!""
"Ah, yes, the stars!" said I, lifting my gaze to the spangled firmament above us. "This is a great thought--who knows?"
And presently as we went on together, hand in hand, came night very still and silent and full of a splendour of stars that made a soft twilight about us, very wonderful to behold.
"Now, why do that?" I demanded suddenly, for she had slipped her hand from mine.
"Because!" she retorted.
"Because of what?"
"Just because!"
"Does it impede you to hold my hand?"
"Of course not."
"My hand is neither unpleasantly clammy nor particularly dirty, is it?"
"No, Peregrine."
"Then why not hold it?"
"Because!"
"Upon my word!" I exclaimed, "you are very provoking!"
"Am I, Peregrine?"
"Extremely so! Why won"t you hold my hand? And pray answer intelligibly."
"Because I don"t want to!"
"Oh, very well!" said I, greatly huffed. "Then you shall decline the verb "To be" instead."
"I do, Peregrine."
"Do what?"
"Decline any more of your verbs."
"Ha, then you don"t wish to learn--?"
"I do, Peregrine, I do! But I"m sure I shall learn quicker if you"ll let me try to talk like you; I"ve learned a bit already only you never notice--"
"Oh, yes, I do--G.o.d in heaven!" I gasped, my heart leaping in sudden sickening dread. "What is that?" My flesh chilled with horror as from the gloomy depths of the wood upon our left rose a sound evil beyond description, an awful scuffling intermingled with gasps and sighs very terrible to hear.