TELLS OF AN OMINOUS MEETING
Precisely upon the stroke of half-past four I turned under the arch of
the "Chequers" inn and, coming into the yard, looked about for Diana.
The place was fairly a-throng with vehicles, farmers' gigs, carts,
curricles and the like; in one corner of the long penthouse I espied
the Tinker's cart with Diogenes champing philosophically at a truss of
hay, but Diana herself was nowhere to be seen. Therefore, having
deposited my parcel in the cart among divers other packages (which I
took to be the stores Jeremy had mentioned), I seated myself in a
remote and shady corner and glanced around. Horses munched and snorted
all about me, unseen hostlers hissed and whistled, and a man in a
smart livery hung upon the bridles of two horses harnessed to a
handsome closed travelling carriage, blood-horses that tossed proud
heads and stamped impatient hoofs, insomuch that the groom alternately
cursed and coaxed them, turning his head ever and anon to glance
towards a certain back door of the inn with impatient expectancy. And
thus it befell that I began to watch this door also and as the moments
elapsed there waked within me a strange and bodeful trembling
eagerness, a growing anxiety to behold what manner of person that door
would soon open for. So altogether unaccountable and disquieting was
this feeling that I rose to my feet and in this moment the door swung
wide and a man appeared.
He was tall and slim and superlatively well clad, his garments of that
quiet elegance which is the mark of exceeding good taste; but it was
his face that drew and held my gaze, a handsome face, paler by
contrast with the raven blackness of flowing, curled hair, a
delicate-nostrilled, aquiline nose, a thin-lipped mouth and smooth jut
of pointed chin. All this I saw as he stood as if awaiting some one,
half-turned upon the steps, a magnificent and shapely figure, tapping
impatiently at glittering, be-tasselled boot with slender,
gold-mounted cane. And then--Diana appeared and paused in the doorway
to stare up at him while he smiled down on her, and I saw his smiling
lips move in soft speech as, with a hateful and assured deliberation,
his white fingers closed upon her round, sunburned arm and he gestured
gracefully towards the carriage with his cane.
"Ah, damn you--stand off!" I cried, and clenching my fists I sprang
forward, raging. As I came he swung about to meet me, the slender cane
quivering in his grip, and thus for a moment we faced each other. And
now I saw he was older than I had thought and, meeting the intensity
of these smouldering eyes, beholding quivering nostrils and relentless
mouth and chin, my flesh crept with a fierce and unaccountable
loathing of the man and, unheeding the threat of the cane, I leapt on
him like a mad creature. I felt the sharp pain of a blow as the cane
snapped asunder on my body and I was upon him, pounding and smiting
with murder in my heart. Then the long white hand seized my collar and
whirled me aside with such incredible strength that I fell and lay for
a moment half-stunned as, without a glance towards me, he opened the
carriage door and imperiously motioned Diana to enter.
"Come, my goddess, let us fly!" said he, soft-voiced and smiling. But
as he approached her, she tossed aside her basket, stooped, and I saw
the evil glitter of her little knife; the gentleman merely laughed
softly and made deliberately towards her; then, as she crouched to
spring, I scrambled to my feet.
"Don't!" I cried. "Don't! Not you, Diana! Throw me your knife--leave
him to me--"
At this the gentleman paused to glance from Diana to me and back
again.
"Aha, Diana, is it?" said he. "You'll be worth the taming--another
time, chaste goddess! Venus give you to my arms some day! Here's for
your torn coat, my sorry Endymion!" Saying which, he tossed a guinea
to me and, stepping into the carriage, closed the door. The staring
groom mounted, the horses pranced, but, as the carriage moved off, I
snatched up the coin and, leaping forward, hurled it through the open
window into the gentleman's pale, smiling face.
"Damn you!" I panted. "God's curse on you--I'll see you dead--some
day!" And then the carriage was gone and I, gasping and trembling,
stood appalled at the wild passion of murderous hate that surged
within me. And in this awful moment, sick with horrified amaze since I
knew myself a murderer in my soul, I was aware that Diana had picked
up my new hat whence it had fallen and was tenderly wiping the dust
from it.
"Why, Peregrine," sighed she reproachfully, "you've had all your curls
cut off!"
"To the devil with my curls! Come, let us go!" And snatching my hat I
clapped it on and led the way across the yard and, heedless of the
spectators who gaped and nudged each other, we got into the cart, paid
our dues, and drove out into the High Street, nor did we exchange a
word until we had left the town behind us; then:
"Why are you so frightful angry, Peregrine?"
"Ah, why?" I groaned. "What madness was it that would have driven me
to murder? Had you but thrown me your knife I should have stabbed
him--killed him where he stood--and loved the doing of it. Oh,
horrible!"
"No, wonderful!" sighed she, laying her hand on my drooping shoulder.
"I--I liked you for it! You weren't afraid this time. Did he hurt
you?"
"Not much."
"And he tore your fine new coat--the beast! Never mind, I'll mend it
for you to-night, if you like."
"I can buy another," said I gloomily.
"No, that would be wicked, wasteful extravagance, Peregrine, and I can
mend it beautifully."
"Very well!" I sighed.
"That's three times you fights for me, Peregrine."
"And been worsted on each occasion!" said I.
"No, you beats Gabbing Dick, remember," said she consolingly, her hand
on my shoulder again. "And I--I likes you in your new clothes, though
I wish you had your curls back again because--"
"How came you at the inn with that man?" I demanded suddenly.
"I had been selling my last few baskets."
"And he saw you?"
"Yes."
"And spoke to you?"
"Yes."
"And he--tried to--kiss you, I suppose?"
"Yes--but what's it matter; don't let's talk of it any more,
Peregrine."
"And did he kiss you--did he?" At this she began to frown. "Did he
kiss you, Diana--answer me?"
"I'll not!" said she, setting her chin.
"Ah, but you shall!"
"Oh, but I won't! Who are you to question me so?"
"Tell me, or by God I'll make you!"
"Ah, don't talk, you couldn't--no, not if--" I seized her, wrenched
and swung her down across my knees (careless alike in my sudden frenzy
of fallen reins, of danger or death itself) and having her thus
helpless, set my hand about her soft, round throat.
"By God!" I gasped, "but you shall tell me, Diana; you shall tell me
if he dared sully you with his vile touch--speak--speak!"
And now as I glared down at her I saw her eyes grow wide and suddenly
fearful.
"Oh, Peregrine," she whispered. "Don't--don't look at me so--as if you
hated me--don't, ah, don't!" And then, oh, wonder of wonders! Her arms
were about my neck, drawing me lower and lower until her soft cheek
met mine and, clasping me thus, she spoke under her breath:
"He didn't. Peregrine--he didn't! No man shall ever kiss me in line
except--just--one!"
"Who?" I questioned, grasping her to me. "Who is that one?"
"Loose me, now," she pleaded. "You'll make me cry in a minute, and I
hates to cry." So I obeyed her and sitting up, saw that Diogenes, like
the four-footed philosopher he was, had come to a halt and was
serenely cropping the grass by the roadside. And so we presently drove
on again, but though Diana frowned no more, she persistently avoided
my glance.
"Diana," said I at last, vainly endeavouring to meet her gaze, "who is
the--one man?"
"Him as I shall marry, of course--if I ever do!" she answered.
"Then that man is myself, of course!"
"You are a sight too cocksure!"
"Am I?"
"Yes, and--very rough, I think."
"Oh, forgive me--did I hurt you--just now, when I--"
"You did!"
"Where?"
"Here, on the throat, Peregrine."
"Let me look," said I, peering. Then, "The wound is not apparent,
Diana, unless it is--here!" and leaning closer, I touched her soft
neck with my lips. "Did I hurt you anywhere else?"
"No!" said she hastily and with sudden shy look.
"I could almost regret my gentleness!" I sighed. After this we drove
in silence awhile; that is to say Diogenes ambled along at his own
leisurely gait, as if he very well knew that 'time was made for
slaves'.
So I looked at Diana, drinking in this new, shy beauty of her, and she
looked at earth and sky, at hedgerow and rolling meadow but with never
a glance at me.
"It was wrong of you to think the gentleman kissed me!" said she
suddenly, beginning to frown.
"It was!" I admitted. "Very wrong indeed!"
"Then why did you?"
"Because I was a fool!"
"Well, I don't like fools!"
"Then I will endeavour to be wiser."
"'T will need a lot o' trying, I think," said she, scowling.
"Good heavens!" said I. "Are _you_ angry now?"
"Yes, I can be angry as well as you, I s'pose?"
"Of course!" said I. "You have contrived to be very ill-tempered
lately."
"Oh, have I?"
"You have! And very slipshod in your speech--indeed, your diction is
worse than ever--"
"Oh, stow your gab!"
"Now you are coarse and vulgar in the extreme!"
"Well, that's better than pretending to be what I ain't. And if you
don't like my talk--hold your tongue and I'll hold mine!"
"I will!" said I.
"Do!" she snapped. And so was silence again, wherein the birds seemed
to sing quite out of tune and Diogenes a lazy quadruped very much
needing the whip.
"Cannot you drive a little faster?" I suggested.
For answer she lashed Diogenes to a gallop so that the cart lurched
and swayed in highly unpleasant fashion; but presently, this speed
abating somewhat, I ventured to loose my grip of the seat and
thrusting hands into pockets, felt the case containing the locket and
chain.
"Are you any better tempered yet?" I enquired.
"No--nor like to be--"
"That's a pity!"
"Oh--why?"
"Because you look prettier when you don't frown--"
"Oh tush!"
"Though you're handsome always. And besides I--I brought you a small
present--"
"Well, you can keep it--"
"You haven't looked at it yet!"
"Don't want to!"
"Here it is," said I, opening the case. "Do you like it?"
"No!"
"Won't you accept it?"
"No, I won't!"
"Why, very well!" said I, and shutting the case I threw it into the
road.
"Ah, don't! How could you!" she cried and reined Diogenes to abrupt
standstill. "Go and pick it up--this instant!"
"If you don't want it--I won't!" said I, folding my arms.
"I didn't say I didn't want it--"
"But you wouldn't accept it--"
"No more I will--yet--"
"Now of all the ridiculous, unreasonable creatures--"
"So please go an' pick it up, Peregrine."
"If I do, will you let me put it round your neck?"
"Wait till--till I feels a little kinder to you!"
"That will be a unique occasion and one to remember!" said I bitterly,
and springing from the cart, I went and took up my despised gift,
though with very ill grace. "And pray, madam," I enquired, thrusting
the case into my pocket and frowning up at her where she leaned, chin
on fist, viewing me with her sombre gaze, "when are you likely to feel
any kinder?"
"How should I know--and you look s' strange and different in your new
clo'es--"
"It is to be hoped so!" said I.
"And your curls all cut off!"
"I never thought you'd notice--"
"And you seem more cocksure than ever--"
"Cocksure is an ugly word, Diana."
"So I think I liked you better as you were."
"Good!" said I, climbing back into the cart. "It remains for me to
make you like me best--as I am."
"How?"
"By marrying you."
"But you don't--we ain't in love with each other or any such
silliness," said she, flicking idly at the hedge with the whip.
"I'm not so sure, Diana. Indeed, I begin to think I do--love you in a
way--or may do soon."
"Oh, do you?"
"I do!"
"Have you ever been in love?"
"Never."
"Then you don't know nothin' about it."
"Do you?" I questioned.
"More than you!" she nodded.
"Ah, do you mean that you have loved--some man--"
"Of course not, silly!"
"Good!" said I. "And you have promised faithfully never to kiss any
other man but me--"
"I said the man I married--"
"Well, that _is_ me."
"Oh, is it?"
"Of course!"