“Look at the matter dispassionately,” said Oswald. “You dreamed the existence of this woman. Knowing not whether the dream were truth or reality, you pursued her for over two years. The pursuit brought with it disappointment, and worse. Now I tell you of a certainty your dream was true, and show you the means by which the truth shall become fact to you. In seeking her, in your constant watching for her, you drive her from you. I know not why this is so; nevertheless I know it to be true.”
Peregrine was silent. Here was apparent certainty presented to him on the one hand; as the pull against it was his own inner conviction, which he had yet more than once proved illusion, so it seemed. For the time he let the matter be; came again to rest in the strength of his comradeship, and the sweetness of Nature round him.
So the days passed. March came with strong clean winds blowing through the forest, with daffodils tossing golden heads by brook-sides, a very wealth of gladness. With her passing came quieter April bringing sunshine and rain, and the scent of growing things in the forest. The birds mated and sang; the whole place was alive and buoyant.
One night Peregrine awakened suddenly. At the first waking he fancied Oswald to have called to him, but his quiet regular breathing showed him sleeping. Peregrine raised himself on his elbow and looked around.
The faintest grey light fell through the square opening which served as window. He sank back prepared for further sleep, when on a sudden he found himself more fully awake. He sat up, and again looked round the hut. The bunches of herbs dangling from their string looked ghostly in the grey light. Oswald, lying on a bed of bracken, slept soundly.
Peregrine got up from his couch, donned his clothes, barely conscious that he did so. His mind was busily astir; though as yet his thoughts had found no conscious articulation. Being clad, he took a chunk of bread from a shelf. This much he knew his host would have freely given him. Then he moved softly to the door, opened it.
The forest lay in the quiet which reigns most supremely betwixt night and dawn. For some moments he stood looking towards the great trees, then stepped without, closed the door softly behind him.
Now, an’ you were to ask me for reasons as to why Peregrine left the hut at this very moment, I must e’en tell you frankly that where fifty instincts urged him to the move there was no one definite reason. This may seem folly; but verily, to my thinking, there are moments in a man’s life when he does better to obey the lightest instinct than the closest reasoning. We are come now to a time in our Jester’s wanderings when I see myself penning that which actually befell him, rather than the thoughts which led him to action. It may be that you will guess at those thoughts, having had some such of your own. An’ you cannot trace them in his actions, I see not any words of mine setting them clearly before you.