CHAPTER XLV
CERTAIN ADVENTURES OF THE RAMILLIE COAT
The Major's rib mended apace; nevertheless his fits of gloom and depression seemed but to grow more pronounced, insomuch that he would seize any and every opportunity to escape from Colonel Cleeve's cheery presence or the Viscount's affectionate solicitude and, locking himself into his study, would strive feverishly to banish thought with his gabions, angles of fire, etc.
To-day the Viscount and Colonel Cleeve had ridden abroad together, and being alone, the Major had ventured forth into the orchard and now sat in the hutch-like sentry-box hard at work on his History of Fortification.
The afternoon was very still and very hot, so hot indeed that he had laid by coat and wig and sat in shirt-sleeves, his close-cropped, brown head bent above his manuscript, writing busily. But presently he set this aside and leaning head on hand wearily, became lost in troubled reverie, then, sighing deeply, took pen and paper and began to indite a letter. At first he paused often as if the composition were difficult, but, little by little, his thoughts seemed to flow more freely for his quill flew rapidly, never staying until the letter was finished. Having sanded it, he read over what he had written, folded it, paused, shook his head and tore it across and across in his sinewy fingers, made as if to throw the scraps aside, checked himself and crammed them into one of the yawning side-pockets of the Ramillie coat. Thereafter, he sat staring straight before him until, moved by sudden impulse, he drew to him a new sheet of paper and wrote again busily. Then, not staying this time to read over what he had set down, he sanded, folded, sealed it, and turning, thrust it carefully into a pocket of the Ramillie coat and so turned back to his history once more.
All at once he started, lifted his head and glanced across at a certain part of the old, red-brick wall and, dropping his pen, got stealthily to his feet.
"A young cavalier he rode on his way
Singing heigho, this loving is folly."
The singing voice on the opposite side of the wall was drawing nearer, wherefore the Major snatched up his wig, clapped it on anyhow and incontinent fled.
My lady Betty, having watched this hasty retreat, frowned, plucked a leaf, bit it with sharp, white teeth and—espied the Ramillie coat. The wall was rather high and there was no ladder this side, but my lady was of courageous temper and determined character, so——
The Major, turning a sharp corner of the yew walk, ran full tilt into Sergeant Zebedee.
"Ha, Zeb," said he, a little breathlessly, "I—I was looking for you——"
"Same likewise, sir," answered the Sergeant, standing at attention. "There's Colonel Cleeve, Sir Benjamin, and the Viscount a-waiting to play cards wi' you——"
"Excellent! I'll join 'em at once——"
"But your—your coat, sir?"
"Aye, to be sure! You'll find it in the arbour, Zeb, bring it to me in the library."
"Now, I wonder," murmured the Sergeant as the Major hastened away with long strides, "I wonder wherefore so rapid?"
So my lady jumped. She had just caught up the Ramillie coat when she heard the approach of heavy steps and, being as resourceful as she was determined, she folded the garment compactly and sat upon it.
The Sergeant, about to enter the arbour, paused, started and stood at attention.
"Good day, Sergeant Zebedee!" quoth she demurely.
"Same to you my lady and thank'ee."
"And pray how is the Major?"
"Ha'n't you just seen him mam?"
"Indeed, but he—he vanished before I could speak a word, Sergeant."
"Zounds!" murmured the Sergeant.
"What d'you say, Sergeant Zebedee?
"Why my lady, 'tis his coat I'm after——"
"Coat?" repeated my lady.
"Aye mam, his Ramillie coat, sent me here for same——"
"I don't see it, do you, Sergeant?"
"Why no, my lady, I don't! But he says he left same here and——"
"But it doesn't seem to be, does it?"
"No my lady, unless you——"
"And how is the Major, pray?"
Sergeant Zebedee sighed and shook his head.
"Lord, my lady, he is that gloomy, he do sigh continual—mopes in his study when he should be out i' the sun and wanders abroad when he should be snug abed——"
"But he sat out here to-day——"
"Aye, for a wonder! 'Twas Mrs. Agatha and me as coaxed him out."
"He seems to be a very—uncomfortably—moody kind of man, Sergeant."
"Aye—but only of late, my lady."
"I wonder why?" The Sergeant glanced down into her bright eyes, looked at earth, looked at sky, and scratched his chin.
"Why, since you put the point, my lady, I should say 'tis either on account o' petticoats or witchcraft or—maybe both. And talking o' witchcraft, there's his coat now, p'r'aps you might chance to be——"
"He seems mighty set on this coat," said she, deftly spreading out her voluminous petticoats, "and 'tis such a shabby, woeful old thing."
"True mam, but I follered that coat through the smoke and dust of Ramillies fight though 'twas gayer then, d'ye see, but even now it shows the rents in skirt and arm o' bullet and bagnet as he took that day. 'Tis a wonderful garment, my lady."
"It would irk him to lose it, belike?"
"Lose it! Mam, it aren't to be thought on!"
"Still I think 'twould do him a world of good if 'twere lost awhile, it seems to affect him so evilly."
"Nay, I think 'tis t'other way about, mam. Says I to him one day, 'Sir,' says I, 'when at all put out wherefore and why the Ramillie coat?' 'Because Zeb,' says he, 'when I put it on I seem to put on some of my lost youth also.' Still, there's limits, mam, there's limits, and for a gentleman o' his degree to go out in same, and among his tenants d'ye see, well, it aren't right—though I've darned same constant. No wonder Widow Weston, which same is a scold, my lady, but 'tis no wonder she contradictioned of his honour no later than yesterday arternoon towards four o' the clock as ever was——"
"Aye, I know Widow Weston!" smiled my lady. "Contradicted him—aye—she would."
"And did, my lady! Here's his honour in his old coat a-bowing to her and a-choking and coughing d'ye see, on account of her chimbley a-smoking woeful. 'Mam,' says he, 'I fear your chimbley smokes.' 'It don't!' she cries, 'it don't, and if it do 'tis no worse than it was in my husband's time and if it did for him 'twill do for me,' she says. Whereon his honour bows himself into the air and wipes the soot out of his eyes all the way home, mam."
"But referring to the coat, Sergeant——"
"Begad, yes mam, saving your presence. There's him a-waiting for same."
"You must insist on his leaving it off, Sergeant."
"Insist? Zounds, my lady, insist—to the Major. Couldn't nowise be done, mam."
"Why then he must lose same, Sergeant Zeb," said my lady roguishly.
"Lose it, mam! Lord mam, his honour would never forgive me."
"He would—O he would. Besides you didn't lose it. And it isn't here, is it?"
"Why it aren't apparent to human observation, my lady. But p'r'aps you might chance to be sit——"
"Hush!" cried my lady, white finger upraised. "Is someone coming?" The Sergeant stepped outside to glance about, listened dutifully and shook his head.
"No mam, but I must get back to the house, his honour will——"
"How is he progressing in health, Sergeant—his appetite—doth he eat well?
"Eat, my lady!" exclaimed the Sergeant dolefully, "he's forgot how."
"Truly I do begin to think he hath a soul after all, Sergeant."
"Soul, mam? The finest as ever was! He's all soul, my lady, 'tis his body as do worry me—vading mam it be, vading and a-languishing away. Aye, 'tis his body——"
"There seems plenty of it left, Sergeant, and it looks solid enough—O Lud!" she exclaimed all at once and clasped her hands, as from afar rose a hoarse, growl that swelled into a deep-lunged roar. "A mercy's sake, what is it?"
"My lady, 'tis the Colonel a-calling me. I must go, my lady, and consequently humbly request you to——"
"Stay, dear Sergeant Zeb, first pray go fetch me a ladder."
"Ladder, my lady?"
"How may I get back over the wall without it?"
The Sergeant turned and stared at the wall, shook his head and rubbed his chin:
"Question is, how did you get over, my lady?"
"'Tis no matter! Go—go fetch the ladder, I must not be seen here—go this instant!" The Sergeant went.
Once out of eyeshot my lady sprang up, sped across the orchard, hurled the Ramillie coat over the wall into her own garden and was back in the arbour a full half-minute before the Sergeant re-appeared, ladder on shoulder.
"You dear Sergeant Zeb!" she exclaimed, rising and crossing the orchard beside him. "The bravest soldiers and strongest men are always the kindest and gentlest to women, aren't they?"
"Are they, mam?" said the Sergeant flushing a little as he planted the ladder where she directed.
"To be sure they are," she sighed, gathering up her petticoats, "see how hard you kicked that hateful Jennings——"
"Shall I hold the ladder, my lady?" he enquired, flushing deeper.
"Thank you—no!" she answered and set a slender foot upon the lowest rung. "Sergeant Zebedee!"
"My lady?"
"Right about face!" The Sergeant turned automaton-like and stood so until a laughing voice cried, "Sergeant Zebedee—as you were!" And swinging round he beheld her smiling down at him from her own side of the wall. "Thank you, dear Sergeant Zeb, thank you!" she said, and nodding, vanished from sight.
The Sergeant, being orderly in all things, proceeded to set back the ladder in the tool-house, to dust his coat and re-settle his wig, then crossed to the arbour and stood there for a full minute staring at the empty bench.
"Zounds!" he exclaimed at last, and wheeling, marched very thoughtfully into the house.
"Eh—not there—not there, Zeb?" exclaimed the Major, laying down his cards and turning to glance at the Sergeant's expressionless face.
"Your honour, it are—not!"
"But—God bless my soul—it must be!"
"Why then sir, if 'tis it aren't apparent to human observation!"
"But I distinctly remember taking it off there!"
"Why then sir, it hath gone and vanished itself away!"
"Pish!" exclaimed the Major rising. "I'll fetch it myself."
"O rot me, Jack!" cried the Colonel, "here's a curst rampageous business over an old rag. 'Tis time 'twas lost——"
"Or burned, nunky!" added the Viscount.
"So let be, Jack—Sergeant Zeb shall bring you another!"
But the Major was determined, and presently sallied forth with Sir Benjamin, the Viscount, Colonel Cleeve and the Sergeant at his heels. Reaching the orchard, they searched the arbour within and without, they peered and prodded under bushes, they sought high and they sought low without avail.
"Very remarkable!" exclaimed the Major at last.
"Most extraordinary, od's my life!" assented Sir Benjamin, mopping heated brow. "Are you sure you had it on, sir?"
"Belike some stray cur hath taken a fancy to it and run off wi' it!" the Colonel suggested.
"Mistaking it for—er—something equally unpleasant, nunky!" added the Viscount.
"'Tis not so much the loss of the coat itself that gives me worry as—er—the contents of the pockets!" said the Major, wrinkling his brow.
"What, your purse, sir?" enquired Sir Benjamin.
"Nay that—would scarce ha' mattered."
"Ya' snuff-box, Jack?"
"Letters, uncle?"
"No, no, not—exactly letters as 'twere and yet—ah—O demme!" So the Major gave up the useless search. "Come, gentlemen—if 'tis gone, 'tis gone. Come, let us get back to our game."