CHAPTER XXXI
WHICH DESCRIBES SOMETHING OF MY LADY BETTY'S GRATITUDE
The Major, leaning back somnolent in his great elbow-chair, fingers joined and head bowed, listened lethargically to the Sergeant who, sitting bolt upright, read aloud from the manuscript he held.
"'Vauban, in his instructions on the siege of Aeth, giveth notice of sundry salient angles all fortified, the most open by bastions, the others, and those of at least ninety degrees, by demi-bastions——'"
Here the Major snored but so gently that the Sergeant, whose whole attention was centred on the written words, was proceeding all unaware when a small, roundish object hurtled across the room, smote the Major softly upon the cheek and fell to the floor; hereupon the Major opened sleepy eyes.
"Certainly, Zeb!" said he. "Egad you're in the right on't—er—I fear my attention was wandering as 'twere—though I listen very well with my eyes shut!"
The Sergeant lowered the manuscript to stare, round-eyed:
"Anan, sir?" he enquired.
"Go on again, Zeb—this chapter on Salient Angles must be clear and concise as possible. Proceed, Zebedee—we'd got as far as the siege of Aeth, I think." Saying which, the Major closed his eyes again and Sergeant Zebedee, nothing loth, went on:
"'—the most open by bastions, the others, and those of at least ninety degrees, by demi——'"
Once again a small missile flew with unerring aim, struck the Major on the chin and rebounded on to the desk.
The Major started, rubbed his eyes and sat up.
"What now, Zeb?" he enquired. The Sergeant, lowering the manuscript again, stared harder than ever.
"Sir?" he enquired.
"Something—er—touched me I think Zeb!"
"Touched you, sir! Zounds, here's but you and me, your honour!"
"Strange!" mused the Major, rubbing his chin, "very strange, Zeb, I must ha' dreamed it, though I distinctly felt——" He leaned forward suddenly and picked up from the desk before him a half-opened moss rosebud. With this in his fingers he turned towards the open casement behind the Sergeant's chair and beheld a face, all roguish witchery and laughter, and two white hands held out to him.
"Help me in, John—help me in!" she commanded. In an instant the Major was across the room, had clasped those slender hands and my lady, mounting the low sill, stood a moment framed in the heavy moulding of the long window, a very picture of vigorous young womanhood; then leaping lightly down with flashing vision of dainty feet and ankles, she crossed to where the Sergeant stood, very erect and upright, and setting her two hands upon his broad shoulders, smiled up at him radiant-eyed.
"Sergeant Zebedee," said she, "dear Sergeant Zebedee you must be vastly strong to have carried my brother so far. Stoop down!"
Wondering, the Sergeant obeyed and immediately felt the pressure of two warm, soft lips on his smooth-shaven cheek; whereupon he flushed, blinked and stood at attention. "Did you like it, Sergeant?" she enquired.
"My lady, all I can say is—mam I—I did, your ladyship."
"Then stoop again, Sergeant!" With an apologetic glance towards the Major he obeyed and my lady kissed his other cheek. Then she turned and looked at the Major with glistening eyes. "O!" she cried, "I am come overflowing with gratitude to you all for my dear brother's sake. I owe you his life—but for you he—he would be——" Her deep bosom swelled and she bowed her head. "Charles is very—very dear to me and—you saved him to me. O pray, John, may I see Mrs. Agatha?"
Here, at a sign from the Major, Sergeant Zebedee strode from the room shutting the door carefully behind him: and as it closed they were in each other's arms.
"Jack!" she murmured. "My noble John!"
"Nay, beloved," he sighed, "dream not 'twas I. Sergeant Zebedee found him and but for Mrs. Agatha——"
"O my scrupulous man, art afraid lest I do think too well of thee? Art frighted lest I give thee more gratitude than thy just due? Indeed but Charles hath told me all and I do know 'twas these arms bore him 'neath thy roof, 'twas thy brave heart sheltered him and was ready to face ignominy with him. But indeed if you have no—no will to—kiss me——" The Major kissed her until she sued for mercy. Thereafter, throned in his great chair, she surveyed the bare chamber with gentle eyes: "'Tis a great house, John," she nodded, "and this, a barren corner—and yet, meseemeth, 'tis not so—so outrageously desolate as it was."
"My Betty," he answered, "I do but live for the time when it shall be brightened by thy sweet presence, its floors know the light tread of these dear feet, its walls the music of thy voice and—thy love make it 'home' for me at last."
"'Deed John but you do grow poetical—though perchance thy style might not please Sir Benjamin or Sir Jasper or—O John how I have laughed and laughed——"
Here came a gentle rapping on the door and being bidden enter, Mrs. Agatha appeared demure and smiling, dropped a curtsey to the Major, another to my lady and then she was caught in gentle embrace and kissed.
"Why Mrs. Agatha!" exclaimed my lady, "dear Mrs. Agatha, how pretty you are! 'Tis seldom wit and beauty go together! Thank you, my dear, for a brother's life. For service so great there are no words—nought to repay. But take this and wear it in memory of a sister's gratitude!" And speaking, my lady took a necklet from her own white throat and clasped it about Mrs. Agatha's neck. "But for you," she sighed, "but for you I should have lost my only brother and—" my lady faltered, then, meeting Mrs. Agatha's gentle glance, threw up proud head, "and one I love—beyond all!"
"My lady—O my lady!" cried Mrs. Agatha, "Heaven send you happiness now and ever—both!" Then stooping, she kissed my lady's hand and was gone.
My lady crossed the room and seated herself in the Major's great elbow-chair while he, sitting on a corner of the desk gazed down at her with eyes of rapture.
"Well, Major John?"
"How—beautiful you are!" he sighed and she actually blushed and bowed her head.
"O—John!" she whispered.
"Surely many have told you so before?"
"Hosts, of course, dear Major!" she nodded.
"Aye, I fear I'm not very original," he sighed, "I'm awkward, I know, tongue-tied and mute when I would speak; but dear, my love doth 'whelm me so—poor, futile words are lost——"
"'Deed, sir," she answered demurely, "I find no fault with your powers of converse more especially when you grow personal. That remark, now, 'beautiful' was the word I think, being a woman such will never tire me—as you say them."
"Yet I do but echo what others have said before me."
"Aye, but you say it as no other man ever did—you speak it so sincerely and reverently as it had been a prayer, John."
"God knoweth I'm sincere, Betty."
"So do I, John," and taking the rosebud from the desk she began to open its petals with gentle fingers. So the Major sat gazing at her, wishing that she would lift her eyes and she, knowing this, kept them lowered of course.
"John," said she at last.
"Betty?"
"Sometimes you do seem almost—afraid to—touch me."
"I am."
"And wherefore?"
"Because even now there are times when I scarce can credit my wondrous happiness, scarce believe you can really love—such as I——"
"None the less I shall convince you once and for all—one day, Master Humility!"
And now she lifted her head at last and looked at him, and, thrilling to the revelation of that look, he leaned swiftly down to her, but then she put up gentle hand and stayed him.
"John," she murmured, "dear, when you look at me so you are not a bit humble, I know not if I fear you or—love you most. Stay, John, if my hair should come down and anyone see I—O then quick, John—there's aunt calling! Let us join the company ere we are fetched like truants. She is out on the terrace with Pancras and Mr. Marchdale who is a trifle trying at times being over-youthful and very soberly adoring. 'Chaste hour, soft hour, O hour when first we met!'" she quoted. "Indeed," she laughed, "'tis a very worshipful, humble youth so very unlike——"
"Mr. Dalroyd!" said the Major thoughtfully.
My lady started, the rosebud fell from relaxed fingers and she glanced up with a look in her eyes that might have been mistaken for sudden fear.
"Why—why do you name—him?" she questioned dully; but before he could answer came a knock at the door and Mrs. Agatha appeared to say that "tea was a-drinking on the terrace!"
They found Lady Belinda seated on the terrace before a tea equipage with Mrs. Agatha and a footman in attendance while beside her sat the Viscount, one arm in a sling, dutifully sipping a dish of tea and making wry faces over it.
"Gad love me, 'tis the washiest stuff!" he sighed.
"O dear Major, hark to the naughty wanton!" cried Lady Belinda as the Major bowed over her hand, "First he nigh breaks his neck knocking at fences and now miscalleth tea!"
"Knocks at fences, aunt?"
"Truly, he tells me his horse budged, took off something or other, was very short about it, knocked at a fence and fell—which is not to be wondered at."
"Faith, Viscount," said Mr. Marchdale looking puzzled "'tis a fierce and dangerous beast that grey o' yours but I don't quite see——"
"Nay," smiled the Viscount, "'twas that stiffish fence beyond Meadowbrook Bottom—the Colonel put his Arab at it and cleared but my grey balked, took off short, rapped, came down on his head and I came by a sprained arm and shoulder."
"'Twas all that Colonel Cleeve's fault, I dare swear," cried Lady Belinda, "he's a wild soul, I fear!"
"On the contrary, Aunt Belinda, he's a very noble fellow. And he bade me be sure carry you his humble duty." Here Lady Belinda blushed quite becomingly and perceiving the Viscount had contrived to swallow his tea, forthwith filled him more despite his expostulations.
"Drink it, Pancras," she commanded, "'tis soothing and sedative and good for everything—see how healthy the Chinamen are—so polite too and placid, I vow!"
"I'd no idea, mam," said the Major, "no idea that you and my old friend George were acquaint."
"It happened yesterday sir, in Sevenoaks, Sir Benjamin made us known."
"Talking of the Colonel," said Mr. Marchdale, "the village is all agog over the soldiers—they searched your house as well as my lady's I understand, sir?"
"They did!" nodded the Major.
"Consequently everybody is wondering what i' the world they wanted."
"Why Charles for sure!" answered Lady Betty, "they seemed to think we had him in hiding."
"Charles!" exclaimed Mr. Marchdale opening his mouth and staring, "O—Egad they—they didn't find him, of course!"
"No, and I pray God they never will, wherever he may be."
"Have you seen or heard from him since he rode for Scotland?" enquired Mr. Marchdale. "Because I——"
"More tea, Mr. Marchdale?" demanded Lady Belinda. Mr. Marchdale's feeble refusals were overruled and he was treated beside to a long exordium on the beneficent qualities of the herb, the while he gulped down the beverage to the Viscount's no small satisfaction. As for the Major, he was looking at Betty and she at him, and the Viscount's quick glance happening to rove their way and noting the look in the Major's eyes and the answering flush on her smooth cheek the Viscount's own eyes opened very wide, he pursed his lips in a soundless whistle and thereafter studiously glanced another way.
"Major d'Arcy sir," said Mr. Marchdale, gulping his tea and blinking, "I am come with an embassage to you, Tripp and the rest of us present their service and beg you'll join us at cards this evening—nothing big, a guinea or so——"
"Aye, go, nunky," nodded the Viscount, "I'm going over to try some new songs with Betty." Here Mr. Marchdale sighed heavily.
All too soon for the Major the ladies arose to take their departure.
"We are hoping, dear Major," said Lady Belinda, "that you will come in to supper one evening soon, you and Pancras——"
"With Colonel Cleeve, if he chance to be here still," added Betty.
The gentlemen bowed, the ladies curtseyed, and descended the terrace steps all stately dignity and gracious ease.
Left alone the Major stood awhile to enjoy the beauty of the sunset-sky and to sigh over the past hour; then slowly went into the house.
In the study he found Sergeant Zebedee who stood tentatively beside the desk.
"I was thinking, sir," said he, "that seeing the company is gone we might contrive to get through your chapter on Salient Angles at last!"
"A happy thought, Zeb—by all means."
So they sat down together then and there and the Sergeant took up the manuscript. It was then that the Major spied the fallen rosebud and glancing at the Sergeant stooped and picked it up almost furtively though all the Sergeant's attention was focussed, like his eyes, upon the foolscap in his hand; so, leaning back in his chair the Major raised the bud to reverent lips watching Sergeant Zebedee the while, who, clearing his throat with a loud "Hem!" began to read forthwith:
"'Vauban, in his instructions on the siege of Aeth, giveth notice of sundry salient angles all fortified, the most open by bastions, the others, and those of at least ninety degrees, by demi-bastions...'"