CHAPTER XX
HOW THE MAJOR RAN AWAY
Larks, high in air, carolled faint and sweet, birds chirped joyously from fragrant hedgerows, a gentle wind set leaves dancing merrily, and the Major's big bay mare, being full of life and the joy of it, tossed her shapely head and beat a tattoo with her four round hoofs; but the Major rode with shoulders drooping and in gloomy silence, wherefore the Sergeant trotting behind on his stout cob, stared at the woebegone figure and shook anxious head:
"She's a bit skittish, sir," he hazarded at last as the powerful bay pranced sideways toward the hedge, "a bit wilful-like, your honour!"
"She's so young, Zeb," answered the Major absently, "so young, so full of life and youth that 'tis but to be—eh, what the devil are you saying, Sergeant Zebedee?"
"Why your honour, I——"
"Hold your tongue, sir!"
"But sir," began the Sergeant, wondering to see his master's face so red all at once, "I did but——"
"Be silent!" said the Major and, giving his mare the rein, rode on ahead while the Sergeant trotted after staring in turn at the blooming hedges, the white road, the blue sky and the Major's broad back.
"'Sniggers!" he exclaimed at last under his breath,
Presently the road narrowed between high, sloping banks clothed with brush and bramble from amid which tangle a man rose suddenly, a tall, dark, gipsy-looking fellow, at whose unexpected appearance the Major's bay mare swerved and reared, all but unseating her rider; whereat the fellow laughed vindictively, the Sergeant swore and the Major soothed his plunging steed with voice and hand. Breathing fierce anathemas and dire threats, the Sergeant was in the act of dismounting when the Major stopped him peremptorily.
"But sir, 'tis a rogue, 'tis a plaguy rascal, 'tis a——"
"'Tis no matter, Zeb."
"But damme sir, same do be a-shaking his dirty fist at your honour this moment! Sir, I beg——"
"'Tis very natural, Zeb."
"Nat'ral sir, and wherefore?"
"I—er—had occasion to—ha—flog the fellow."
"Flogged him, sir?"
"And broke my—ha—very modish cane a-doing it!"
"Cane, sir?" repeated the Sergeant, jogging alongside again. "Ha, and brought home his bludgeon instead, I mind, not so ornymental—but a deal handier, your honour."
Here the Major fell again to gloomy abstraction, observing which the Sergeant held his peace until, having climbed a steepish ascent, they came where stood a finger-post at the parting of the ways and here the Sergeant ventured another question:
"And wherefore flog same, sir?"
"Eh?" said the Major, starting, "O, for a good and sufficient reason, Zeb, and——" He broke off with a sudden breathless exclamation and the Sergeant, following the direction of his wide gaze, beheld three people approaching down a shady bye-road.
"Why sir," he exclaimed, "here's my Lady Carlyon as——"
The Major wheeled his big bay and, clapping in spurs, galloped off in the opposite direction.
"Sapperment!" exclaimed the Sergeant. He was yet staring in amazement after his master's rapidly retreating figure when he became aware that my lady had reined up her horse beside him.
"Why Sergeant," she questioned, "O Sergeant, what is't? Why did he spur away at sight of me?"
"Bewitchment, mam—black magic and sorcery damned, my lady!" answered the Sergeant, shaking rueful head. "Last night, your ladyship, he see the devil, same being in form of a apparation——"
"Sergeant Zebedee, what do you mean?"
"A gobling, mam—a ghost as vanished itself away into your garden, my lady—we both see same and his honour followed it."
"Into—my garden?" she questioned quick-breathing, her eyes very bright, her slender hand tight-clenched upon her riding-switch.
"Aye mam, your garden. Since when he's been witched and spell-bound, d'ye see."
"How—how?"
"Why, a tramp—tramping in his study all night long and groaning to himself—right mournful, mam."
"Groaning?"
"And likewise a-sighing—very dismal. And this morning I took the liberty of observing him unbeknownst—through the window, d'ye see—me not having had a wink o' sleep either—and when he lifted his head——"
"Well?" she said faintly.
"'Twas like—like death in life, mam."
My lady's head was bowed but the Sergeant saw that the hand grasping the whip was trembling and when she spoke her voice was unsteady also:
"I—I'm glad you—told me, Sergeant. I—O I must see him! Get him home again—into the orchard. I—must speak with him—soon!"
"But mam, he's set on riding to Inchbourne—means to look over the cottages as Jennings has let go to rack and ruin, and when he's set on doing a thing he'll—do it."
"He ran away at sight of me, Sergeant?"
"He did so, mam, by reason of the black art and——"
"And he shall run away again—I'll ride to Inchbourne ahead of you and frighten him back home——"
"Zounds!" exclaimed the Sergeant.
"And when he reaches home contrive to get him into the orchard——"
"Zooks!" exclaimed the Sergeant.
Here Mr. Dalroyd, who had been chatting with the Marquis hard by but with his gaze ever upon my lady's lissom figure, urged his horse up to them.
"The Major would seem in a hurry this morning," said he, smiling down into my lady's pensive face, "or is it that his horse bolted with him?"
The Sergeant snorted but, before he could speak, Lady Betty's gloved hand was upon his arm.
"Sergeant Zebedee," said she gently, "I—trust to you and you won't fail me, I know!" Then, smiling a little wistfully she turned and rode away between her two cavaliers.
"Now all I says is," said the Sergeant, rasping his fingers across his big, smooth-shaven chin, "all I says is that look o' hers has drove the word 'fail' clean off the field wi' no chance o' rallying. All I asks is—How?" Having questioned himself thus and found no answer, he presently set off in pursuit of the Major, as fast as his stout cob would carry him.
The Major sat his fretting mare beneath the shadow of trees, but despite this shade he looked hot and uncomfortable.
"You've been the deuce of a while, Zebedee," said he, fidgeting in his saddle.
"No help for it, your honour," answered the Sergeant, saluting, "her ladyship having halted me, d'ye see."
"Ha—what did she say, Zeb?"
"Demanded wherefore you bolted, sir."
"And—what did you tell her?"
"Explained as 'twere all on account o' witchcraft and sorcery damned, sir."
"Then be damned for a fool, Zebedee!" The Sergeant immediately saluted. "Then—er—what did she say?"
"Stared, sir, and cross-examinationed me concerning same, and I dooly explained as you did see a apparation in form of the devil—no, a devil in form of a——" The Major uttered an impatient ejaculation and rode on again. And after they had ridden some distance in silence the Sergeant spoke.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but you're wrong!"
"I think not, Zeb,'" sighed the Major, "'tis for the best."
"But sir, 'tis the wrong way to——"
"On the contrary 'tis the only way, Zeb, the only way to save her pain and vexation. I couldn't bear to see her shrink—er—ha, what a plague are you saying now, in the fiend's name, Sergeant?"
"Why sir, I only—"
"Be silent, Zebedee!"
"Very good, your honour, only this be the wrong way to Inchbourne."
"Egad!" exclaimed the Major, staring. "Now you mention it, Zeb, so 'tis!" And wheeling his horse forthwith, the Major galloped back to the cross-roads. Being come thither he halted to glance swiftly about and seemed much relieved to find no one in sight.
"Zebedee," said he suddenly as they rode on, knee to knee, "tis in my mind to go a-travelling again."
"Thought and hoped our travelling days was done, sir."
"Aye, so did I, Zeb, so did I—but," the Major sighed wearily, "none the less I'm minded to go campaigning again, leaving you here to—er—look after things for me, as 'twere, Zeb."
"Can't and couldn't be, your honour! You go and me stay? Axing your pardon, sir—Zounds, no!"
"Why not, pray?"
"Well first, sir, what would your honour do without me?"
"Truly I should—miss you, Zeb——"
"So you would, sir, so why think of going? Secondly, here's me been hoping—ah, hoping right fervent as you'd bring it off, sir, wi' colours flying and drums a-beating as gay as gay."
"Bring what off, Zeb?"
"Wedlock, sir." The Major flinched, then turned to scowl:
"Be curst for a presuming fool, Zebedee!" The Sergeant immediately saluted. "Whom should I marry at my time of life, think you?"
"Lady Elizabeth Carlyon, sir."
The Major's bronzed cheek burned and he rode awhile with wistful gaze on the distance.
"I shall—never marry, Zebedee!" said he at last.
"Why sir, asking your pardon, but that depends, I think."
"Depends!" repeated the Major, staring. "On what?"
"The Lady Elizabeth Carlyon, your honour."
Here ensued another long pause, then:
"How so, Zeb?"
"Sir, when some women makes up their mind to a man it ain't no manner o' good that man a-saying 'No'!"
"Pray what d'you know of women, Sergeant Zebedee?"
"That much, sir!"
"Hum!" said the Major. "Nevertheless I shall never wed, Zebedee!"
Here he sighed again and the Sergeant did likewise.
"Which I do sadly grieve to hear, sir, for your honour's sake, her ladyship's and—my sake!"
"And why yours, Zeb?"
"Sir, if you was to wed my lady and vicey-versey, the which I did hope, why then belike I might do the same with Mrs. Agatha and versey-vicey."
"God—bless—my soul!" exclaimed the Major.
"She's a pro-digious fine figure of a woman, your honour!"
"She is so, Zeb, she is indeed. But I had no idea——"
"Nor did I, sir, till a few days ago and then it came on me—ah, it come on me like a flash, your honour, quick as a musket-ball!"
"Then, if she's willing, Zeb, marry by all means and before I go I'll——"
"Begging your pardon, sir, can't be done—not to be thought on—if you wed why then I wed, if so be as she'll have me, sir, and vicey-versey, but if you don't, I don't and versey-vicey as in dooty bound, sir."
"But, if you love each other—why not, Zeb?"
"Because sir, you a bachelor, me a bachelor now and for ever, amen!"
"A Gad's name—why?"
"Your honour, 'tis become a matter o' dooty wi' me d'ye see."
"You're a great fool, Sergeant, aye—a fool, Zebedee, but a very faithful fool, Zeb!"
"Aye sir! And yonder's Inchbourne!" said the Sergeant, pointing to a hamlet bowered amid trees in the valley below them.
The thatched cottages of Inchbourne village stood upon three sides of a pleasant green and in this green was a pool shaded by willows and fed by a rippling brook.
"'Tis a mighty pretty place!" said the Major.
"Aye, sir—to look at—from a distance, but there ain't a cottage as aren't damp, nor a roof as don't leak like a sieve. Still 'tis pretty enough I'll not deny, though 'tis an ill-conditioned folk lives there, your honour, hang-dog rascals, poachers and the like——"
"And small wonder if things be so bad, ill-conditions beget roguery, Zeb, I marvel what Jennings can have been doing to let things come to such a pass!"
"Co-lecting rents mostly, sir!"
"You've no particular regard for Mr. Jennings, Zebedee."
"I never said so, your honour."
"He complained of you once, Zebedee——"
"Sir, the same month as you and me come a-marching into this here estate said Jennings turned old Bet Seamore out of her bit o' cottage whereupon I dooly ventured a objection——"
"Hum!" mused the Major, staring down at the peaceful hamlet. "He will be awaiting us——"
"At the d'Arcy Arms!" nodded the Sergeant.
"Jennings was agent here in my uncle's time and bears an irreproachable character, Zeb——"
"Character!" quoth the Sergeant. "Sir, his character worries him to that degree he's a-talking of it constant. Says he to me, old Betty a-sobbing over her bits o' furniture as was a-lying there in the road, 'no rent no roof!' says he, ''tis my dooty to look arter Squire's interests,' says he, 'and dooty's part o' my character. I was born with a irreproachable character,' says he, 'and such I'll keep same,' he says. 'Why then,' says I, 'since I can't kick your character, I'll kick you instead,' I says, which I did forthwith, wherefore complaint to you as aforesaid, sir."
"Ha!" said the Major, frowning. "'Twas wrong in you to assault my agent, Zeb, very wrong, but——I must enquire into the matter of the eviction. You should have told me before." Saying which, he gave his mare the rein and they began to descend the hill.
"They call old Betty a witch, sir," continued the Sergeant, his keen gaze roving expectantly among the scattered cottages, "aye, a witch, sir, and now owing to Mr. Jennings' character d'ye see she do live in the veriest pigsty of a place which is the reason as my Lady Carlyon has took to riding over and a-visiting of her constant——"
"Has she, Zeb, has she?" said the Major, his voice very gentle.
"Aye sir, folks hereabouts know her well—she stays wi' 'em hours sometimes and—Zounds, there she is!"
"Where?" demanded the Major, reining his mare upon its haunches.
"Yonder, sir, see, she's a-going into old Bet's cottage now and——"
But the Major had wheeled about and was already half-way back up the hill.
"Sir," cried the Sergeant as they reached the brow of the hill, "what about that there Mr. Jennings as is a-waiting——"
"He must wait awhile—we'll come back later, Zeb."
"No manner o' use, sir, my lady'll stop a couple of hours and by that time he'll be drunk, d'ye see. Best get home, sir——"
"Why?"
"Well first there's your great History o' Fortification in ten vollums a-waiting to be wrote, and secondly you can come here another day——"
"So I can, Zeb, so I can!" agreed the Major and straightway fell into a profound meditation while Sergeant Zebedee began to turn over in his mind various ways and means of achieving the second part of my lady Betty's so urgent request, pondering the problem chin in hand, his fierce black brows close-knit in painful thought. Suddenly he smiled and slapped hand to thigh.
"What now?" enquired the Major, starting.
"Why sir, there do be some evolutions as a man ain't so nat'rally adapted for as a fe-male so, thinks I sir, I'll ask Mrs. Agatha——"