OF A TRULY MEMORABLE OCCASION
The silence was broken only by the plodding hoofs of Diogenes, the
creak of harness and rattle of wheels, while Diana grew lost in
thought and I in contemplation of Diana; the stately grace of her
slender, shapely form, the curve of her vivid lips, the droop of her
long, down-swept lashes, her resolute chin and her indefinable air of
native pride and power. All at once her sombre look gave place to a
smile, her slender hand tightened upon the reins, and glancing up I
saw that we had reached a place where four roads met, and here, seated
beneath the finger-post was a solitary, shabbily dressed old man
absorbed in a book; roused by the sound of our approach, he glanced up
and I recognised the ancient person, Lord Wyvelstoke.
"It's my old man!" said Diana, and waved her hand in joyous greeting,
whereupon he arose and doffing his weather-beaten hat, bowed white
head in stately greeting.
"Surely it is my pleasure to behold my courageous young Amazon," said
he, limping forward. "Greetings, fair Penthesilea!" and taking the
hand she reached out to him, he kissed it gallantly.
"And you are still alone!" said she, smiling down at him as she had
never smiled at me. "Are you always alone?"
"Always!" he answered, sighing. "Though I have my books--and an old
man's dreams. But, God bless you, child, how radiant you look; you
seem the soul incarnate of this glorious day."
"And this is Peregrine," said she a little hastily, with a wave of her
hand in my direction.
"Sir, I trust I see you well!" said I, bareheaded and bowing, and his
lordship, glancing at me for the first time, recognised me despite my
altered appearance.
"Mr. Vereker," quoth he, with another bow, "this is a twofold
pleasure! So you are acquainted with my Penthesilea?"
"Yes, sir, though I know her as Diana!"
"But my real name's Anna, sir--as I tells you at the fair," she added.
"Yes," answered his lordship, "and you called me your old pal, I
remember. Yet Mr. Vereker is indubitably right, for Diana you surely
are, as fair as the chaste goddess, as brave and--"
"As nobly good!" said I.
"Assuredly, sir!" he nodded, in the quick, decisive way I remembered.
"The eyes of Age are as quick to recognise purity as the eyes of Love,
and a great deal less prejudiced."
"If you're saying all this about me--don't!" quoth Diana. "Because I
ain't a goddess and don't want to be. And now, old gentleman, it's
gettin' lateish and I've supper to cook, so if you'm going our way let
me give you a lift; there's plenty o' room for you 'twixt Peregrine
an' me."
"No, no," sighed his lordship with a somewhat sad and wistful smile.
"You have each other, and I am old and wise enough to know that age is
no fit companion for youth and beauty--"
"But I like old folks," said Diana in her direct fashion. "I like you,
your voice and grand manners; it's plain you was a fine gentleman
once--though your coat wants mendin'."
"Indeed, I fear it is almost beyond mending," answered his lordship;
"but it is a favourite, and old like myself, though I am glad you can
find it in your heart to be kind to an old fellow in a shabby coat--"
"What's a coat matter?" smiled Diana. "Peregrine's was worse than
yours."
"Yes," nodded his lordship. "I fancy it was, and I'm glad--very glad
that you like me also, Diana; it does me good, child."
"Why, then, come on up," she commanded, reaching out her hand to him
in her imperious manner.
"Pray do, sir," said I. "It would be an honour and pleasure."
"It'll save your poor, old, stiff leg, sir!" added Diana.
"Ah, Diana, fair goddess," said he in his placid, stately manner,
"when you put my disturbers to such ignominious flight at the fair,
you graciously unbent enough to address me as 'your old pal'--"
"You seemed s' very lonely!" she explained.
"Child," he sighed, "I am lonely still!"
"Why, then," said she in her gentlest voice, smiling down into his
wistful face, "come on up, old pal, an' forget your loneliness
awhile."
And now his lordship smiled also, and having pocketed his book,
climbed into the cart with our assistance and seated himself between
us.
"This," sighed he, as Diogenes ambled on again, "is exceedingly kind
in you, to burden yourselves thus with a solitary and garrulous old
man--"
"What's garrulous?" demanded Diana.
"Talkative, my child, excessive verbosity--Mr. Vereker will doubtless
remember our conversation on music," said he, with a whimsical glance
at me.
"Indeed, yes, sir," I answered. "I was greatly interested."
"Well, I like to hear you talk, too," said Diana, "you speaks like
Peregrine does, only he says such silly things, and he's a great deal
too cocksure of himself into the bargain!"
"Concerning which," said his lordship gently, "you may have remarked
that Mr. Vereker possesses a chin."
"What's his chin to do with it? You've got one--so have I for that
matter."
"True, child, we all three possess chins that typify dogged resolution
to a remarkable degree--"
"Peregrine's hatefully dogged; I know that!" sighed Diana.
"Excellent youth!" nodded our aged companion, regarding me with
twinkling eyes.
"And Diana is excessively and unreasonably illogical!" I retorted.
"Adorable maiden!" sighed his lordship, glancing at Diana.
"Lord, Peregrine, how can you say such things!" she exclaimed
indignantly. "He only says it because he wants to marry me!" she
explained into our companion's right ear. "If I don't tell you he will
in a minute; he tells it to every one."
"Perspicacious youth!" nodded his lordship.
"And Diana very foolishly attempts to deny me, for no just or adequate
reason," I explained into his left ear.
"Extremely natural and feminine!" nodded his lordship.
"Because of his grand aunt and fine uncles for one thing," said Diana.
"And for what other reason?" I demanded.
"Just because!"
"Because of what?"
"Never mind!"
"And there you have it, sir!" I exclaimed. "Did you ever hear such
futile answers?"
"Often, and generally from the loveliest lips, Mr. Vereker--"
"Pray, sir, call me Peregrine if you will: and, sir," said I, grasping
his worn left sleeve, "I beg you to advise me in this matter, for you
are so wise--"
"Never heed him, old pal!" cried Diana, grasping his right sleeve.
"Peregrine only thinks he ought to marry me because he bought me and
folks talk and--"
"Pardon me, dear child, but how and where may one purchase a goddess?"
his lordship enquired. "You said 'bought', I think?"
"Yes, he bought me for fourteen guineas, a florin, one groat and three
pennies!" and in two breaths, or thereabouts, she had recounted the
whole incident.
"Admirable!" exclaimed his lordship, glancing from one to other of us
with shining eyes. "Ridiculous! Magnificent!"
"And that's the only reason he wants to marry me--"
"There you are wrong, Diana, and most unjust!" said I indignantly.
"You know my chief purpose in wedding you is to take you from this
wandering life and shield you from all hardship and coarseness."
"And what of love, Peregrine?" enquired his lordship, gently. At this
I hesitated, glanced down at the gleaming buckles of my new shoes,
glanced up at the blue serenity of heaven, and finally looked at
Diana, to find her watching me beneath scowling brows.
"And there you have it!" said she in disdainful mimicry, "he--he don't
know!"
The Ancient Person smiled and laid his small, white hand upon Diana's
brown fingers.
"But then, dear child with the wise, woman's eyes--you have seen and
surely know." Now at this Diana glanced swiftly from him to me and
then, to my amazement, flushed hotly and drooped her head. "Ah, yes,"
sighed his lordship, "I see you know, child, so what matter?"
"Sir," said I, "what do you mean?"
"Peregrine, I touch upon an abstract theme and therefore one better
sensed than described, so I will not attempt it." Here, to my further
surprise, Diana nestled closer to him and whispered something in his
ear.
"I believe," said the Ancient Person, after Diogenes had plodded some
little distance, "I believe you are camping with Jessamy Todd?"
"Yes, sir, but pray, how did you learn this?"
"Well, I know the redoubtable Jessamy rather well."
"We'm settled in the wood beyond Wyvelstoke Park," added Diana, "along
by the stream."
"I know it," nodded his lordship, "I have killed many a fine trout
along that same stream. I shall do myself the pleasure of finding you
one of these days, if I may?"
"Pray do sir," said I eagerly, "you will find Jeremy Jarvis the most
wonderful tinker in the world and one who writes poetry besides
mending kettles and shoeing horses."
"This has been a truly memorable occasion," said his lordship, "I feel
myself honoured by your confidence, it has given me a new interest in
my solitary life."
"And why are you so solitary?" questioned Diana.
"Because old age is usually solitary, and because in my youth, when
Love came to me, I was a coward, by reason of worldly considerations,
and let it plead in vain, alas! And thus, although my friends were
many in those days, my empty heart was always solitary, and now--my
friends are mostly dead, and I am--a childless, lonely old man!"
The white head drooped disconsolate, the slender, delicate hands wrung
each other, and then about these bowed and aged shoulders Diana
clasped protecting arm and stooped soft cheek to his.
"Ah, poor old soul, don't grieve!" she murmured. "Here's Peregrine and
me will be your friends and pals, if you'll have us, and if you're
ever very lonely or in want, come to us--wait!" Then, opening her
gipsire, and before I could prevent, into those slender fingers she
thrust a bright, new guinea; for a long moment his lordship stared
down at the coin while I grew alternately hot and cold. When at last
he lifted his white head I saw his keen eyes dimmed with unshed tears.
"Why, child?" he murmured. "Generous girl--"
"No, don't!" she smiled. "Don't say anything! Only let me be your
friend to cheer your loneliness an' help you now an' then."
Lord Wyvelstoke stared at the coin in his palm as if it had been a
very rare and curious object, then, having deposited it carefully
within an inner pocket, he bared his head in his courtly fashion.
"Diana," said he, "sweet friend, you have given me something precious
as my vanished youth and more lasting; accept a once solitary old
man's gratitude. Mr. Vereker--Peregrine, you who stand perhaps where I
stood years ago with the best of all things in your reach--grasp it,
boy, follow heart rather than head, and may you find those blessings I
have never known. Here, I think, is the advice you sought of me--for
the rest, you are a Vereker, sir, and carry honour in your name. And
now is good-bye for a time; my way lies yonder," said he, pointing
towards a by-lane. So here we stopped and down sprang I to aid our
Ancient Person to alight.
"You'll come soon and let me patch your coat?" said Diana, giving him
her hand.
"Assuredly!" he answered, with his quick, decisive nod. "Meantime, God
be kind to you both, your friendship has lifted much of the heaviness
of years from my heart and I shall walk the lighter henceforth!" So
saying, he bent and kissed Diana's hand, shook mine vigorously and
limped away.
"A dear old man!" said Diana, looking after him gentle-eyed.
"I wonder," said I, "I wonder what he meant by that talk regarding my
'head and heart'--"
"How should I know?"
"But what do you think?"
"That you'd better get in if you're goin' to!" Obediently I clambered
into the cart, whereupon Diana prodded the somnolent Diogenes into
motion.
"Where did you meet his l--that Ancient Person, Diana?"
"At the fair. Hooky Sam and two pals tried to rob him, an' him such a
poor, lonely old soul, only I stood 'em off, made 'em cut their stick,
I did."
"But he had a pistol--"
"What--him? Well if so, he didn't have t' use it, my little
_churi_ was enough."
"Indeed, you are far braver than I was, Diana--"
"Tush! There's few men as won't cut and run from a female if she's got
a knife--an' means t' use it."
"This was why he named you Penthesilea."
"Who's she?"
"She was a Queen of the Amazons and fought at Troy--"
"What's Amazons?"
"Fierce, terrible women who hated men and loved to fight."
"Well, I hates a fight, so don't you go calling me Penthe--whatever
her name was."
"No, Diana, I would have you her very opposite, if possible."
"How d'ye mean?"
"I'd have you a lady, sweet-mannered, soft-voiced, tender and
gentle--"
"Like your aunt? But she ain't exactly a pet lamb, Peregrine, nor yet
a cooin' dove--now, is she? And as for me I'm just--"
"My goddess Diana!"
"Was the real goddess a lady?"
"Well, I--I suppose so--but I want to ask you--"
"No, tell me about her--the goddess Diana."
"Well, besides Diana, she was called Cynthia, Delia, Ancia, Orthia and
several other names--"
"And all of 'em pretty, too!"
"And she was passionately fond of hunting."
"And didn't like men overmuch, did she?"
"Well, it appears not. She changed Actaeon into a stag and had him
devoured by her dogs--"
"Which wasn't very ladylike, Peregrine--that was coming it a bit too
strong, I think! Why did she do it? Poor young man!"
"Because he spied upon her--at her toilet."
"Was that all? d'ye mean he catches her undoin' her curl papers?"
"She was--bathing!"
"Oh!" said Diana. "Well, poor young man! She'd got modesty pretty bad,
I think, and if all goddesses are like her--"
"They were not."
"Oh, well, let's talk o' something more human-like--"
"Ourselves!" I suggested.
"Well, I sold every one o' my baskets and earned fifty-six shillings.
How much money did you spend, Peregrine?"
"I'm not sure, but about twenty-seven pounds, I fancy."
"Pounds?" she cried so suddenly that Diogenes pricked his ears. "For
them noo duds--"
"Horrible!" I exclaimed.
"It is!" said she. "It's wicked robbery--"
"I mean your grammar, Diana, and the word 'duds', whatever it may
mean, sounds atrocious, especially on your lips--"
"Oh, tush! d'ye mean as they charges you all that money for them
new--"
"Those!" I corrected.
"Things you're wearing--"
"You forget the despised locket and chain," said I reproachfully, "and
I also purchased two silver watches--"
"Watches? Two on 'em? What for?"
"One for our Tinker and one for Jessamy," I explained.
"Foolishness!" she exclaimed.
"Indeed, madam?"
"It's wicked waste o' money--an' don't call me 'madam'!"
"I suppose I may be permitted to spend my money to please myself,
girl?"
"I s'pose so, boy! Easy come, easy go! You can get more any time ye
want, just for the askin', can't you? But you wouldn't spend s' gay
an' careless if you had to earn your money, to slave an' sweat for
it--not you!"
"How do you know?" I demanded in towering anger.
"Just because!"
"I consider you are very--exceedingly--" I checked the word upon my
lips and scowled.
"Well? Very exceedingly--what?" she demanded.
"Never mind!"
"I don't!" she retorted, and flicked Diogenes to speedier gait, for
evening was beginning to fall.