FURTHER INTIMATE ADVENTURES OF THE RAMILLIE COAT
"Aunt Belinda," said my lady, pausing on the broad stair with lighted
candle, "pray how do you refrain?"
"From what, dear Betty?"
"Sneezing, aunt!"
"O naughty puss!"
"All the evening by my reckoning you have sneezed but once. Sure you
must be getting snuff-proof or----"
"O wicked, teasing baggage!"
"Art very happy, dear aunt?"
"Ah my sweet, so happy that I yearn to have thee happy too!"
"In two days, aunt, two little days! Charles will wait no longer
and--I'm glad."
"Hast been up to wish him good-night, Bet?"
"Nay, he was asleep, dear boy, and looked so young, aunt, for all his
trials."
"Trials do but better us, child--or should do. Good-night, my sweet,
and pleasant dreams!" So they kissed each other and went their several
ways.
Reaching her chamber my lady sent her maid to bed, locked the door,
took a key from her bosom and, from its hiding-place among dainty,
perfumed garments and laces, drew forth the Ramillie coat. Then she
set it upon the back of a chair and, hanging thus, the well-worn
garment fell into such natural folds and creases that its owner might
almost have been inside it. The night was hot and still, and through
the open lattice stole the languorous perfume of honeysuckle, and
breathing in the sweetness my lady sighed as she began to undress; yet
in the midst of this dainty business, chancing to glance at the
Ramillie coat she blushed and started instinctively so lifelike was
that broad back and the set of those square shoulders.
And now in dainty night-rail and be-ribanded cap she sat down and
leaned near to snuff delicately at the worn and faded garment.
Tobacco! How coarse and hateful! And yet how vividly it brought his
stately presence before her, his slow, grave smile, his clear, youthful
eyes, his serene brow, and all his shy yet virile personality.
Tobacco! Him! O was there in all the world quite such another man, so
brave, so chivalrous--and so unmodish?
Here in the sleeve was a rent, even as the Sergeant had said, and very
featly mended by the Sergeant's own skilful fingers; a jagged rent it
had been and even now she could see a faint stain--she shivered, for
now she saw other like stains were here also. So my lady shuddered,
yet, doing so, leaned nearer and drew the threadbare sleeve about her
snowy neck and thus espied the yawning side-pocket. My lady peeped
into it, hesitated, then plunged slim hand into those cavernous depths.
His clay pipe. His silver tobacco-box. A mass of torn paper. A
letter sealed with his signet, and my lady sighed rapturously for it
was addressed thus:
"To Lady Elizabeth Carlyon."
With this in one hand, the Ramillie coat in the other, she crossed to
her great high bed and, seated there, the coat beside her on laced
pillow, drew the candles a little nearer, broke the seals and read:
"DEAR LADY AND MY LOVE,
When you receive this I shall be beyond seas and 'tis like I shall not
see you again for I leave suddenly and unknown to any.
All this summer afternoon I have sat here striving to tell you why this
must be, and now my labour is lost for I have destroyed my letter since
it doth seem that it might perchance have pained you to read it almost
as much as me to write. So I have destroyed it since I would spare you
pain now and ever. Of late I have been sick, not of body so much as
mind, and mayhap once or twice have suffered harsh thoughts of thee,
but to-day these are gone and out of mind, and love for thee burns
within me true and steadfast as it shall do until I cease to be--aye,
and beyond. For if I have grieved of late yet have I known joys
undreamed and have looked and seen what Happiness is like unto,
wherefore I do not repine that Happiness hath not stayed. Love and I
have lived so long estranged that now methinks I am not fitted, so do I
go back to the things I understand. But Happiness hath stooped to me a
little while to brush me with his pinions ere he fled and hath left
with me a glory shall never fade. So now, dear maid that I do love and
ever shall beyond mine understanding, here do I take my leave of thee.
I ride alone henceforth yet shall I not be solitary since thy sweet
memory goeth beside me even unto my journey's end.
JOHN D'ARCY."
And now my lady turned and looked upon that war-worn coat through a
mist of tears and sinking down, laid soft cheek upon its tarnished
braid and lay thus a long while, the letter clasped to swelling bosom.
Then starting up she gathered those torn scraps of paper and strove to
piece them together; but they were inextricably mixed, yet here and
there the fragment of some sentence would leap to meet her.
"... my breaking heart ... ever doubted thine eyes so sweet and true
... joy for me is dead, the world a black nothingness ... O that night
with thee in the dawn when earth touched heaven ... if Death should
meet me in the field I'll meet him gladly ... my Love, my Betty,
leaving thee I leave my very soul behind ... my farewell to thee and to
love ... forget thee never..."
These she saw and many more. Every scrap of crumpled paper she
smoothed with gentle fingers and every written word she read and laid
tenderly aside.
And now, since she had pried thus far, she opened the other missive
also, a folded sheet of paper, and saw this:
"I, John d'Arcy of Shevening Manor, Westerham, Kent, in the event of my
falling in action do will and bequeath as follows:
To Zebedee Tring my servant late of His Majesty's Third Regiment of
Foot the sum of Five Thousand Pounds and any cottage he may choose on
my estate.
To Mrs. Agatha Ridley the sum of One Thousand Pounds: But should she
marry the aforesaid Zebedee Tring then I bequeath to them a marriage
portion of Four Thousand Pounds making Ten Thousand Pounds in all.
And all the rest I die possessed of soever both land and monies I leave
unconditionally to my dear Lady Elizabeth Carlyon.
JOHN D'ARCY."
Having folded this up again and laid it by, Lady Betty sat awhile very
still, staring out into the fragrant, summer night. Then she blew out
the candle and lying amid the gloom, fell to sudden, stifled sobbing
and muffled, passionate whispers, her head pillowed upon a certain
mended coat-sleeve; and when at last she fell asleep, that shabby,
war-worn garment lay close about her loveliness.