"Did she climb down?"
"No," said I, shaking my head.
"Did she--jump down?"
"No, she didn't jump down."
"Well, did she--did she fly down?"
"No, nor fly down--she just came down."
"Yes, but how did she----"
"Reginald," said Lisbeth, "run and tell the maids to bring tea out
here--for three."
"Three?" echoed the Imp. "But Dorothy has gone out to tea, you know--is
Uncle Dick going to----"
"To be sure, Imp," I nodded.
"Oh, that is fine--hurrah, Little-John!" he cried, and darted off.
"And you, Lisbeth?" I said, imprisoning her hands. "Are you glad also?"
Lisbeth did not speak, yet I was satisfied nevertheless.
*CHAPTER III*
*THE DESPERADOES*
Fane Court stands bowered in trees, with a wide stretch of the greenest
of green lawns sloping down to the river stairs.
They are quaint old stairs, with a marble rail and carved balusters,
worn and crumbling, yet whose decay is half hid by the kindly green of
lichens and mosses; stairs indeed for an idle fellow to dream over on a
hot summer's afternoon--and they were, moreover, a favourite haunt of
Lisbeth. It was here that I had moored my boat, therefore, and now lay
back, pipe in mouth and with a cushion beneath my head, in that blissful
state between sleeping and waking.
Now, as I lay, from the blue wreaths of my pipe I wove me fair fancies:
And lo! the stairs were no longer deserted; there were fine gentlemen,
patched and powdered, in silks and satins, with shoe-buckles that
flashed in the sun; there were dainty ladies in quilted petticoats and
flowered gowns, with most wonderful coiffures; and there was Lisbeth,
fairer and daintier than them all, and there, too, was I. And behold
how demurely she curtsied and smiled behind her ivory fan! With what a
grace I took a pinch of snuff! With what an air I bowed with hand on
heart! Then, somehow, it seemed we were alone, she on the top stair, I
on the lower. And standing thus raised my arms to her with an appealing
gesture. Her eyes looked down into mine, the patch quivered at the
corner of her scarlet mouth, and there beside it was the dimple. Beneath
her petticoat I saw her foot in a little pink satin shoe come slowly
toward me and stop again. I watched, scarce breathing, for it seemed my
fate hung in the balance. Would she come down to Love and me, or----
"Ship ahoy!" cried a voice, and in that moment my dream vanished. I
sighed, and looking round, beheld a head peering at me over the
balustrade--a head bound up in a bandanna handkerchief of large pattern
and vivid colouring.
"Why, Imp!" I exclaimed. But my surprise abated when he emerged into
full view.
About his waist was a broad-buckled belt, which supported a wooden
cutlass, two or three murderous wooden daggers and a brace of toy
pistols; while upon his legs were a pair of top-boots many sizes too
large for him, so that walking required no little care. Yet on the
whole his appearance was decidedly effective. There could be no
mistake--he was a blood-thirsty pirate!
The Imp is an artist to his grimy finger-tips.
"Avast, shipmate!" I cried. "How's the wind?"
"Oh," he exclaimed, falling over his boots with eagerness, "do take me
in your boat, an' let's be pirates, will you, Uncle Dick?"
"Well, that depends. Where is your Auntie Lisbeth?"
"Mr. Selwyn is going to row her and Dorothy up the river."
"Oh! he is!"
"Yes, an' they won't take me."
"Why not, my Imp?"
"'Cause they're 'fraid I should upset the boat. So I thought I'd come
an' ask you to be a pirate, you know. I'll lend you my best dagger an'
one of my pistols. Will you, Uncle Dick?"
"Come aboard, shipmate, if you are for Hispaniola, the Tortugas, and the
Spanish Main," said I, whereupon he scrambled in, losing a boot
overboard in his haste, which necessitated much intricate angling with
the boathook ere it was recovered.
"They're Peter's, you know," he explained, as he emptied out the water.
"I took them out of the harness-room; a pirate must have boots, you
know, but I'm afraid Peter'll say things."
"Not a doubt of it when he sees them," I said as we pushed off.
"I wish," he began, looking round thoughtfully after a minute or so, "I
wish we could get a plank or a yard-arm from somewhere."
"What for, my Imp?"
"Why, don't you remember, pirates always had a plank for people to
'walk,' you know, an' used to 'swing them up to the yard-arm'?"
"You seem to know all about it," I said, as I pulled slowly down stream.
"Oh yes; I read it all in _Scarlet Sam, the Scourge of the South Seas_.
Scarlet Sam was fine. He used to stride up and down the quarterdeck an'
flourish his cutlass, an' his eyes would roll, an' he'd foam at the
mouth, an'----"
"Knock everybody into the 'lee scuppers,'" I put in.
"Yes," cried the Imp in a tone of unfeigned surprise. "How did you know
that, Uncle Dick?"
"Once upon a time," I said, as I swung lazily at the sculls, "I was a
boy myself, and read a lot about a gentleman named 'Beetle-browed Ben.'
I tell you, Imp, he was a terror for foaming and stamping, if you like,
and used to flog three or four people every morning, just to get an
appetite for breakfast." The Imp regarded me with round eyes.
"And then he was a very wonderful man in other ways. You see, he was
always getting himself shot through the head, or run through the body,
but it never hurt Beetle-browed Ben--not a bit of it."
"An' did he 'swing people at the yard-arm--with a bitter smile'?"
"Lots of 'em!" I answered.
"An' make them 'walk the plank--with a horrid laugh'?"
"By the hundreds!"
"An' 'maroon them on a desolate island--with a low chuckle'?"
"Many a time," I answered; "and generally with a chuckle."
"Oh, I should like to read about him!" said the Imp with a deep sigh;
"will you lend me your book about him, Uncle Dick?"
I shook my head. "Unfortunately, that, together with many other valued
possessions, has been ravaged from me by the ruthless maw of Time," I
replied sadly.
The Imp sat plunged in deep thought, trailing his fingers pensively in
the water.
"And so your Auntie Lisbeth is going for a row with Mr. Selwyn, is she?"
I said.
"Yes, an' I told her she could come an' be a pirate with me if she
liked--but she wouldn't."
"Strange!" I murmured.
"Uncle Dick, do you think Auntie Lisbeth is in love with Mr. Selwyn?"
"What?" I exclaimed, and stopped rowing.
"I mean, do you think Mr. Selwyn is in love with Auntie Lisbeth?"
"My Imp, I'm afraid he is. Why?"
"'Cause cook says he is, an' so does Jane, an' they know all about love,
you know. I've heard them read it out of a book lots an' lots of times.
But I think love is awfull' silly, don't you, Uncle Dick?"
"Occasionally I greatly fear so," I sighed.
"You wouldn't go loving anybody, would you, Uncle Dick?"
"Not if I could help it," I answered, shaking my head; "but I do love
someone, and that's the worst of it."
"Oh!" exclaimed the Imp, but in a tone more of sorrow than anger.
"Don't be too hard on me, Imp," I said; "your turn may come when you are
older; you may love somebody one of these days."
The Imp frowned and shook his head. "No," he answered sternly; "when I
grow up big I shall keep ferrets. Ben, the gardener's boy, has one with
the littlest, teeniest pink nose you ever saw."
"Certainly a ferret has its advantage," I mused. "A ferret will not
frown upon one one minute and flash a dimple at one the next. And then,
again, a ferret cannot be reasonably supposed to possess an aunt. There
is something to be said for your idea after all, Imp."
"Why, then, let's be pirates, Uncle Dick," he said with an air of
finality. "I think I'll be Scarlet Sam, 'cause I know all about him,
an' you can be Timothy Bone, the boatswain."
"Aye, aye, sir," I responded promptly; "only I say, Imp, don't roll your
eyes so frightfully or you may roll yourself overboard."
Scorning reply, he drew his cutlass, and setting it between his teeth in
most approved pirate fashion, sat, pistol in hand, frowning frantically
at creation in general.
"Starboard your helm--starboard!" he cried, removing his weapon for the
purpose.
"Starboard it is!" I answered.
"Clear away for action!" growled the Imp. "Double-shot the carronades,
and, bo'sun, pipe all hands to quarters."
Hereupon I executed a lively imitation of a boatswain's whistle.
Most children are blessed with imagination, but the Imp in this respect
is gifted beyond his years. For him there is no such thing as
"pretence"; he has but to close his eyes a moment to open them upon a
new and a very real world of his own--the golden world of Romance,
wherein so few of us are privileged to walk in these cold days of common
sense. And yet it is a very fair world, peopled with giants and fairies;
where castles lift their grim, embattled towers; where magic woods and
forests cast their shade, full of strange beasts; where knights ride
forth with lance in rest and their armour shining in the sun. And right
well we know them. There is Roland, Sir William Wallace, and Hereward
the Wake; Ivanhoe, the Black Knight, and bold Robin Hood. And there,
too, is King Arthur with his Knights of the Round Table--but the throng
is very great, and who could name them all?
So the Imp and I sailed away into this wonderful world of romance aboard
our gallant vessel, which, like any other pirate ship that ever
existed--in books or out of them--"luffed, and filling upon another
tack, stood away in pursuit of the Spanish treasure galleon in the
offing."
What pen could justly describe the fight which followed--how guns roared
and pistols flashed, while the air was full of shouts and cries and the
thundering din of battle; how Scarlet Sam foamed and stamped and
flourished his cutlass; how Timothy Bone piped his whistle as a bo'sun
should? We had already sunk five great galleons and were hard at work
with a sixth, which was evidently in a bad way, when Scarlet Sam ceased
foaming and pointed over my shoulder with his dripping blade.
"Sail ho!" he cried.
"Where away?" I called back.
"Three points on the weather bow."
As he spoke came the sound of oars, and turning my head, I saw a skiff
approaching, sculled by a man in irreproachable flannels and straw hat.
"Why, it's--it's him!" cried the Imp suddenly. "Heave to, there!" he
bellowed in the voice of Scarlet Sam. "Heave to, or I'll sink you!"
Almost with the words, and before I could prevent him, he gave a sharp
tug to the rudder-lines; there was an angry exclamation behind me, a
shock, a splintering of wood, and I found myself face to face with Mr.
Selwyn, flushed and hatless.
Mr. Selwyn exclaimed, and proceeded to fish for his hat with the shaft
of his broken oar.
The Imp sat for a moment half frightened at his handiwork, then rose to
his feet, cutlass in hand, but I punted him gently back into his seat
with my foot.
"Really," I began, "I'm awfully sorry, you know--er----"
"May I inquire," said Mr. Selwyn cuttingly, as he surveyed his dripping
hat--"may I inquire how it all happened?"
"A most deplorable accident, I assure you. If I can tow you back I shall
be delighted, and as for the damage----"
"The damage is trifling, thanks," he returned icily; "it is the delay
that I find annoying."
"You have my very humblest apologies," I said meekly. "If I can be of
any service----"
Mr. Selwyn stopped me with a wave of his hand.
"Thank you, I think I can manage," he said; "but I should rather like to
know how it happened. You are unused to rowing, I presume?"
"Sir," I answered, "it was chiefly owing to the hot-headedness of
Scarlet Sam, the Scourge of the South Seas."
"I beg your pardon?" said Mr. Selwyn with raised brows.
"Sir," I went on, "at this moment you probably believe yourself to be
Mr. Selwyn of Selwyn Park. Allow me to dispel that illusion; you are,
on the contrary, Don Pedro Vasquez da Silva, commanding the _Esmeralda_
galleasse, bound out of Santa Cruz. In us you behold Scarlet Sam and
Timothy Bone, of the good ship _Black Death_, with the 'skull and
crossbones' fluttering at our peak. If you don't see it, that is not
our fault."
Mr. Selwyn stared at me in wide-eyed astonishment, then shrugging his
shoulders, turned his back upon me and paddled away as best he might.
"Well, Imp," I said, "you've done it this time!"
"'Fraid I have," he returned; "but oh! wasn't it grand--and all that
about Don Pedro an' the treasure galleon! I do wish I knew as much as
you do, Uncle Dick. I'd be a real pirate then."
"Heaven forfend!" I exclaimed.
So I presently turned and rowed back upstream, not a little perturbed in
my mind as to the outcome of the adventure.
"Not a word, mind!" I cautioned as I caught sight of a certain dainty
figure watching our approach from the shade of her parasol. The Imp
nodded, sighed, and sheathed his cutlass.
"Well!" said Lisbeth as we glided up to the water-stairs; "I wonder what
mischief you have been after together?"
"We have been floating upon a river of dreams," I answered, rising and
lifting my hat; "we have likewise discoursed of many things. In the
words of the immortal Carroll:
"'Of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax, and cabbages,
and----'"
"Pirates!" burst out the Imp.
"This dream river of ours," I went on, quelling him with a glance, "has
carried us to you, which is very right and proper. Dream rivers always
should, more especially when you sit
"''Mid sunshine throned, and all alone.'"
"But I'm not all alone, Dick."
"No; I'm here," said a voice, and Dorothy appeared with her small and
very fluffy kitten under her arm as usual. "We are waiting for Mr.
Selwyn, you know. We've waited, oh! a long, long time, but he hasn't
come, and Auntie says he's a wretch and----"
"Dorothy!" exclaimed Lisbeth, frowning.
"Yes, you did, Auntie," said Dorothy, nodding her head. "I heard you
when Louise ran up a tree and I had to coax her back; and I have a clean
frock on, too, and Louise will be, oh, so disappointed!" Here she
kissed the fluffy kitten on the nose. "So he is a wretch; don't you
think so, Uncle Dick?"
"Such delay is highly reprehensible," I nodded.
"I'm glad you've come, Uncle Dick, and so is Auntie. She was
hoping----"
"That will do, Dorothy!" Lisbeth interrupted.
"I wonder what she was hoping?" I sighed.
"If you say another word, Dorothy, I won't tell you any more about the
Fairy Prince, said Lisbeth.
"Why, then," I continued, seeing the threat had the desired effect,
"since Mr. Selwyn hasn't turned up, perhaps you would care to----"
--"Be a pirate!" put in the Imp.
"To come for a row with us?" I corrected.
--"Aboard the good ship _Black Death_," he went on, "'with the skull an'
crossbones at our peak.'"
"Thanks," said Lisbeth, "but really, I don't think I should. What a
horrible name!"
"What's in a name? a boat by any other----" I misquoted. "If you like,
we'll call it the _Joyful Hope_, bound for the Land of Heart's Delight."
Lisbeth shook her head, but I fancied the dimple peeped at me for a
moment.
"It would be a pity to disappoint Louise," I said, reaching up to stroke
the fluffy kitten.
"Yes," cried Dorothy, "do let's go, Auntie."
"For the sake of Louise," I urged and held out my arms to her. Lisbeth
was standing on the top stair and I on the lower, in exactly the same
attitudes as I had beheld in my vision. I saw her foot come slowly
toward me and stop again; her red lips quivered into a smile, and lo,
there was the dimple! Dorothy saw it, too--children are wonderfully
quick in such matters--and next moment was ensconced in the boat, Louise
in her lap, and there was nothing left for Lisbeth but to follow.
The Imp went forward to keep a "look-out," and finding a length of
fishing-line, announced his intention of "heaving the lead."
I have upon several occasions ridden with Lisbeth--she is a good
horsewoman--frequently danced with her, but never before had I been with
her in a boat. The novelty of it was therefore decidedly pleasing, the
more so as she sat so close that by furtively reaching out a foot I
could just touch the hem of her dress.
"Uncle Dick," said Dorothy, looking up at me with her big grey eyes,
"where is the Land of Heart's Delight?"
"It lies beyond the River of Dreams," I answered.
"Is it far away?"
"I'm afraid it is, Dorothy."
"Oh!--and hard to get to?"
"Yes; though it depends altogether upon who is at the helm."
Lisbeth very slowly began to tie a knot in the rudder-line.
"Well, Auntie's steering now. Could she get us there?"
"Yes, she could get us there, if she would."
"Oh!" cried Dorothy, "do--do steer for the Land of Heart's Delight,
Auntie Lisbeth; it sounds so pretty, and I'm sure Louise would like it
ever so much."
But Lisbeth only laughed, and tied another knot in the rudder-line.
"The Land of Heart's Delight!" repeated Dorothy. "It sounds rather like
Auntie's tale of the Fairy Prince. His name was Trueheart."
"And what was Prince Trueheart like?" I inquired.
"Fine!" broke in the Imp. "He used to fight dragons, you know."
"And he lived in a palace of crystal," continued Dorothy, "and he was so
good and kind that the birds used to make friends with him!"
"An' he wore gold armour, an' a big feather in his helmet!" supplemented
the Imp.
"And of course he loved the beautiful princess," I ended.
"Yes," nodded Dorothy; "but how did you know there was a beautiful
princess?"
"Uncle Dick knows everything, of course," returned the Imp
sententiously.
"Do you think the beautiful princess loved the prince, Dorothy?" I
asked, glancing at Lisbeth's averted face.
"Well," answered Dorothy, pursing her mouth thoughtfully, "I don't know,
Uncle Dick; you see, Auntie hasn't got to that yet, but everybody loves
somebody sometime, you know. Betty--she's our cook, you know--Betty
says all nice tales end up in marrying and living happy ever after."
"Not a doubt of it," said I, resting on my oars. "What do you think,
Lisbeth?" She leaned back and regarded me demurely beneath her long
lashes for a moment.
"I think," she answered, "that it would be much nicer if you would go on
rowing."
"One more question," I said. "Tell me, has this Prince Trueheart got a
moustache?"
"Like Mr. Selwyn?" cried the Imp; "should think not. The prince was a
fine chap, an' used to kill dragons, you know."
"Ah! I'm glad of that," I murmured, passing my fingers across my shaven
upper lip; "very glad indeed."
Lisbeth laughed, but I saw her colour deepen, and she looked away.
"Oh, it must be lovely to kill a dragon!" sighed the Imp.
Now, as he spoke, chancing to look round, I saw in the distance a man in
a boat, who rowed most lustily--and the man wore a Panama.
Hereupon, taking a fresh grip upon my long sculls, I began to row--to
row, indeed, as I had not done for many a year, with a long, steady
stroke that made the skiff fairly leap.
Who does not know that feeling of exhilaration as the blades grip the
water and the gentle lapping at the bow swells into a gurgling song? The
memorable time when I had "stroked" Cambridge to victory was nothing to
this. Then it was but empty glory that hung in the balance, while
now----!
I settled my feet more firmly, and lengthening my stroke, pulled with a
will. Lisbeth sat up, and I saw her fingers tighten upon the
rudder-line.
"You asked me to row, you know," I said in response to her look.
"Yo-ho!" roared Scarlet Sam in the gruffest of nautical tones. "By the
deep nine, an' the wind's a-lee, so heave, my mariners all--O!"
At first we began to gain considerably upon our pursuer, but presently I
saw him turn his head, saw the Panama tossed aside as Mr. Selwyn settled
down to real business--and the struggle began.
Very soon, probably owing to the fixedness of my gaze, or my unremitting
exertion or both, Lisbeth seemed to become aware of the situation, and
turned to look over her shoulder. I set my teeth as I waited to meet her
indignant look, for I had determined to continue the struggle, come what
might. But when at last she did confront me her eyes were shining, her
cheeks were flushed, and there actually was--the dimple.
"Sit still, children," she said, and that was all; but for one moment
her eyes looked into mine.
The old river has witnessed many a hard-fought race in its time, but
never was there one more hotly contested than this. Never was the song
of the water more pleasant to my ear, never was the spring and bend of
the long sculls more grateful, as the banks swept by faster and faster.
No pirate straining every inch of canvas to escape well-merited capture,
no smuggler fleeing for some sheltered cove, with the revenue cutter
close astern, ever experienced a keener excitement than did we.
The Imp was in a perfect ecstasy of delight; even Dorothy forgot her
beloved Louise for the time, while Lisbeth leaned toward me, the
tiller-lines over her shoulders, her lips parted and a light in her eyes
I had never seen there before. And yet Selwyn hung fast in our rear, if
he was deficient in a sense of humour, he could certainly row.
"He was an Oxford Blue," said Lisbeth, speaking almost in a whisper,
"and he has an empty boat!"
I longed to kiss the point of her little tan shoe or the hem of her
dress for those impulsive words, and tried to tell her so with my
eyes--breath was too precious just then. Whether she understood or not
I won't be sure, but I fancy she did from the way her lashes drooped.
"Oh, my eyes!" bellowed Scarlet Sam; "keep her to it, quartermaster, an'
take a turn at the mizzen-shrouds!"
When I again glanced at our pursuer I saw that he was gaining. Yes,
there could be no mistake; slowly but surely, try as I would, the
distance between us lessened and lessened, until he was so near that I
could discern the very parting of his back hair. So perforce, bowing to
the inevitable, I ceased my exertions, contenting myself with a long,
easy stroke. Thus by the time he was alongside I had in some measure
regained my breath.
"Miss--Eliz--beth," he panted, very hot of face and moist of brow, "must
beg--the--favour--of few words with you."
"With pleasure, Mr. Selwyn," answered Lisbeth, radiant with smiles; "as
many as you wish." Forthwith Mr. Selwyn panted out his indictment
against the desperadoes of the _Black Death_, while the Imp glanced
apprehensively from him to Lisbeth and stole his hand furtively into
mine.
"I should not have troubled you with this, Miss Elizabeth," Selwyn
ended, "but that I would not have you think me neglectful of an
appointment, especially with you."
"Indeed, Mr. Selwyn, I am very grateful to you for opening my eyes to
such a--a----"
"Very deplorable accident," I put in.
"I--I was perfectly certain," she continued, without so much as glancing
in my direction, "that you would never have kept me waiting without
sufficient reason. And now, Mr. Brent, if you will be so obliging as to
take us to the bank, Mr. Selwyn shall row us back--if he will."
"Delighted!" he murmured.
"I ordered tea served in the orchard at five o'clock," smiled Lisbeth,
"and it is only just four, so----"
"Which bank would you prefer," I inquired--"the right or the left?"
"The nearest," said Lisbeth.
"Which should you think was the nearest, Mr. Selwyn?" I queried.
Disdaining any reply, Selwyn ran his skiff ashore, and I obediently
followed. Without waiting for my assistance, Lisbeth deftly made the
exchange from one boat to the other, followed more slowly by Dorothy.
"Come, Reginald," she said, as Selwyn made ready to push off; "we're
waiting for you." The Imp squatted closer to me.
"Reginald Augustus!" said Lisbeth. The Imp shuffled uneasily.
"Are you coming?" inquired Lisbeth.
"I--I'd rather be a pirate with Uncle Dick, please, Auntie Lisbeth," he
said at last.
"Very well," nodded Lisbeth with an air of finality; "then of course I
must punish you." But her tone was strangely gentle, and as she turned
away I'll vow I saw the ghost of that dimple--yes, I'll vow it.
So we sat very lonely and dejected, the Imp and I, desperadoes though we
were, as we watched Selwyn's boat grow smaller and smaller until it was
lost round a bend in the river.
"'Spect I shall get sent to bed for this," said the Imp after a long
pause.
"I think it more than probable, my Imp."
"But then, it was a very fine race--oh, beautiful!" he sighed; "an' I
couldn't desert my ship an' Timothy Bone, an' leave you here all by
yourself--now could I, Uncle Dick?"
"Of course not, Imp."
"What are you thinking about, Uncle Dick?" he inquired, as I stared,
chin in hand, at nothing in particular.
"I was wondering, Imp, where the River of Dreams was going to lead me,
after all."
"To the Land of Heart's Delight, of course," he answered promptly; "you
said so, you know, an' you never tell lies, Uncle Dick--never."
*CHAPTER IV*
*AT THE THREE JOLLY ANGLERS*
The Three Jolly Anglers is an inn of a distinctly jovial aspect, with
its toppling gables, its creaking sign, and its bright lattices, which,
like merry little twinkling eyes, look down upon the eternal river
to-day with the same half-waggish, half-kindly air as they have done for
generations.
Upon its battered sign, if you look closely enough, you may still see
the Three Anglers themselves, somewhat worn and dim with time and stress
of weather, yet preserving their jollity through it all with an heroic
fortitude--as they doubtless will do until they fade away altogether.
It is an inn with raftered ceilings and narrow, winding passageways; an
inn with long low chambers full of unexpected nooks and corners, with
great four-post beds built for tired giants it would seem, and wide deep
chimneys reminiscent of Gargantuan rounds of beef; an inn whose very
walls seem to exude comfort, as it were--the solid comfortable comfort
of a bygone age.
Of all the many rooms here to be found I love best that which is called
the Sanded Parlour. Never were wainscoted walls of a mellower tone,
never was pewter more gleaming, never were things more bright and
speckless, from the worn quaint andirons on the hearth to the
brass-bound blunderbuss, with the two ancient fishing-rods above. At
one end of the room was a long low casement, and here I leaned, watching
the river near by, and listening to its never-ceasing murmur. I had
dined an hour ago; the beef had been excellent--it always is at the
Three Jolly Anglers; also my pipe seemed to have an added flavour.
Yet, despite all this, I did not enjoy that supreme content--that
philosophical calm which such beef and such surroundings surely
warranted. But then, who ever heard of Love and Philosophy going
together?
Away over the uplands a round harvest moon was beginning to rise,
flecking the shadowy waters with patches of silver, and, borne to my
ears upon the warm still air, came the throb of distant violins. This
served only to deepen my melancholy, reminding me that somebody or other
was giving a ball to-night; and Lisbeth was there, and Mr. Selwyn was
there, of course, and I--I was here--alone with the brass-bound
blunderbuss, the ancient fishing-rods, and the antique andirons on the
hearth; with none to talk to save the moon, and the jasmine that had
crept in at the open casement. And, noting the splendour of the night, I
experienced towards Lisbeth a feeling of pained surprise that she should
prefer the heat and garish glitter of a ballroom to walking beneath such
a moon with me.
Indeed, it was a wondrous night! one of those warm still nights which
seem full of vague and untold possibilities! A night with magic in the
air, when elves and fairies dance within their grassy rings, or, hiding
amid the shade of trees, peep out at one between the leaves; or again,
some gallant knight on mighty steed may come pacing slowly from the
forest shadows, with the moonlight bright upon his armour.
Yes, surely there was magic in the air to-night! I half-wished that some
enchanter might, by a stroke of his fairy wand, roll back the years and
leave me in the brutal, virile, Good Old Times, when men wooed and won
their loves by might and strength of arm, and not by gold, as is so
often the case in these days of ours. To be mounted upon my fiery
steed, lance in hand and sword on thigh, riding down the leafy alleys of
the woods yonder, led by the throbbing, sighing melody. To burst upon
the astonished dancers like a thunder-clap; to swing her up to my
saddle-bow, and, clasped in each other's arms, to plunge into the green
mystery of forest.
My fancies had carried me thus far when I became aware of a small
furtive figure dodging from one patch of shadow to another. Leaning
from the window I made out the form of a somewhat disreputable urchin,
who, dropping upon hands and knees, proceeded to crawl towards me over
the grass with a show of the most elaborate caution.
"Hallo!" I exclaimed, "halt and give the counter-sign!" The urchin sat
up on his heels and stared at me with a pair of very round bright eyes.
"Please, are you Mr. Uncle Dick?" he inquired.
"Oh," I said, "you come from the Imp, I presume." The boy nodded a
round head, at the same time fumbling with something in his pocket.
"And who may you be?" I inquired conversationally.
"I'm Ben, I am."
"The gardener's boy?" Again the round head nodded acquiescence, as with
much writhing and twisting he succeeded in drawing a heterogeneous
collection of articles from his pocket, whence he selected a very dirty
and crumpled piece of paper.
"He wants a ladder so's he can git out, but it's too big fer me to lift,
so he told me to give you this here so's you would come an' rescue
him--please, Mr. Uncle Dick." With which lucid explanation Ben handed
me the crumpled note.
Spreading it out upon the window-sill, I managed to make out as follows:
"DEAR UNKEL DICK,--I'm riting this with my hart's blood bekors I'm a
prisner in a gloomie dungun. It isn't really my heart's blood it's only
red ink, so don't worry. Aunty lisbath cent me to bed just after tea
bekors she said i'm norty, and when she'd gone Nurse locked me in so i
can't get out and i'm tired of being a prisner, so please i want you to
get the ladda and let me eskape, please unkel dick, will you.--yours
till deth,
"REGINALD AUGUSTUS."
"Auntie was reading Ivanhoe to us and i've been the _Black Knight_ and
you can be Gurth the swine-herd if you like."
"So that's the way of it?" I said. "Well! well! such an appeal shall
not go unanswered, at least. Wait there, my trusty Benjamin, and I'll
be with you anon." Pausing only to refill my tobacco-pouch and get my
cap, I sallied out into the fragrant night, and set off along the river,
the faithful Benjamin trotting at my heels.
Very soon we were skirting blooming flowerbeds and crossing trim lawns,
until at length we reached a certain wing of the house, from a window of
which a pillow-case was dangling by means of a string.
"That's for provisions!" volunteered Ben. "We pertended he was starving,
so he lets it down, an' I fill it with onions out of the vegetable
garden."
At this moment the curly head of the Imp appeared at the window,
followed by the major portion of his person.
"Oh, Uncle Dick!" he cried, in a loud stage-whisper, "I think you had
better be the Black Knight, 'cause you're so big, you know."
"Imp," I said, "get in at once! Do you want to break your neck?"
The Imp obediently wriggled into safety.
"The ladder's in the tool-house, Uncle Dick--Ben'll show you. Will you
get it, please?" he pleaded in a wheedling tone.
"First of all, my Imp, why did your Auntie Lisbeth send you to bed--had
you been a very naughty boy?"
"No-o," he answered, after a moment's pause, "I don't think I was so
very naughty--I only painted Dorothy like an Indian chief--green, with
red spots, an' she looked fine, you know."
"Green, with red spots!" I repeated.
"Yes; only Auntie didn't seem to like it."
"I fear your Auntie Lisbeth lacks an eye for colour."
"Yes, 'fraid so; she sent me to bed for it, you know."
"Still, Imp, under the circumstances, I think it would be best if you
got undressed and to sleep."
"Oh, but I can't, Uncle Dick!"
"Why not, my Imp?"
"'Cause the moon's so very bright, an' everything looks so fine down
there, an' I'm sure there's fairies about--Moon-fairies, you know--and
I'm miserable."
"Miserable, Imp?"
"Yes, Auntie Lisbeth never came to kiss me good-night, an' so I can't go
to sleep, Uncle Dick!"
"Why, that alters the case, certainly."
"Yes, an' the ladder's in the tool-house."
"Imp," I said, as I turned to follow Benjamin, "oh, you Imp!"
There are few things in this world more difficult to manage than a
common or garden ladder; among other peculiarities it has a most
unpleasant knack of kicking out suddenly just as everything appears to
be going smoothly, which is apt to prove disconcerting to the novice.
However, after sundry mishaps of the kind, I eventually got it reared up
to the window, and a moment afterwards the Imp had climbed down and
stood beside me, drawing the breath of freedom.
As a precautionary measure we proceeded to hide the ladder in a clump of
rhododendrons hard by, and had but just done so when Benjamin uttered a
cry of warning and took to his heels, while the Imp and I sought shelter
behind a friendly tree. And not a whit too soon, for, scarcely had we
done so, when two figures came round a corner of the house--two figures
who walked very slowly and very close together.
"Why, it's Betty--the cook, you know--an' Peter!" whispered the Imp.
Almost opposite our hiding-place Betty paused to sigh heavily and stare
up at the moon.
"Oh, Peter!" she murmured, "look at that there orb!"
"Ar!" said Peter, gazing obediently upward.
"Peter, ain't it 'eavingly; don't it stir your very soul?"
"Ar!" said Peter.
"Peter, are you sure you loves me more than that Susan thing at the
doctor's?"
A corduroy coat-sleeve crept slowly about Betty's plump waist, and there
came the unmistakable sound of a kiss.
"Really and truly, Peter?"
"Ar!" said Peter.
The kissing sound was repeated, and they walked on once more, only
closer than ever now on account of the corduroy coat-sleeve.
"Those two are in love, you know," nodded the Imp. "Peter says the
cheese-cakes she makes are enough to drive any man into marrying her,
whether he wants to or not, an' I heard Betty telling Jane that she
adored Peter, 'cause he had so much soul! Why is it," he inquired
thoughtfully, as he watched the two out of sight, "why is it, Uncle
Dick, that people in love always look so silly?"
"Do you think so?" I asked, as I paused to light my pipe.
"'Course I do!" returned the Imp; "what's anyone got to put their arm
round girls for, just as if they wanted holding up?--I think it's
awfull' silly!"
"Of course it is, Imp--your wisdom is unassailable. Still, do you know,
I can understand a man being foolish enough to do it--occasionally."
"But you never would, Uncle Dick?"
"Alas, Imp!" I said, shaking my head, "Fortune seems to preclude all
chances of it."
"'Course you wouldn't," he exclaimed; "an' Ivanhoe wouldn't----"
"Ah, but he did!" I put in; "have you forgotten Rowena?"
"Oh!" cried the Imp dolefully, "do you really think he ever put his arm
round her?"
"Sure of it," I nodded.
The Imp seemed much cast down and even shocked.
"But there was the Black Knight," he said, brightening suddenly;
"Richard of the Lion Heart, you know--he never did!"
"Not while he was fighting, of course, but afterwards, if history is to
be believed, he very frequently did; and we are all alike,
Imp--everybody does sooner or later."
"But why? Why should anyone want to put their arm round a girl, Uncle
Dick?"
"For the simple reason that the girl is there to put it round, I
suppose. And now, Imp, let us talk of fish."
Instinctively we had wandered towards the river, and now we stood to
watch the broad, silver path made by the moon across the mystery of its
waters.
"I love to see the shine upon the river like that," said the Imp
dreamily; "Auntie Lisbeth says it's the path that the Moon-fairies come
down by to bring you nice dreams when you've been good. I've got out of
bed lots of times an' watched an' watched, but I've never seen them
come. Do you think there are fairies in the moon, Uncle Dick?"
"Undoubtedly," I answered; "how else does it keep so bright? I used to
wonder once how they managed to make it shine so."
"It must need lots of rubbing!" said the Imp; "I wonder if they ever get
tired?"
"Of course they do, Imp, and disheartened, too, sometimes, like the rest
of us, and then everything is black, and people wonder where the moon
is. But they are very brave, these Moon-fairies, and they never quite
lose hope, you know; so they presently go back to their rubbing and
polishing, always starting at one edge. And in a little while we see it
begin to shine again, very small and thin at first, like a----"
"Thumb-nail!"
"Yes, just like a thumb-nail; and so they go on working and working at
it until it gets as big and round and bright as it is to-night."
Thus we walked together through a fairy world, the Imp and I, while
above the murmur of the waters, above the sighing of the trees, came the
soft tremulous melody of the violins.
"I do wish I had lived when there were knights like Ivanhoe," burst out
the Imp suddenly; "it must have been fine to knock a man off his horse
with your lance."
"Always supposing he didn't knock you off first, Imp."
"Oh! I should have been the sort of knight that nobody could knock off,
you know. An' I'd have wandered about on my faithful charger, fighting
all sorts of caddish barons and caitiffs, an' slaying giants; an' I'd
have rescued lovely ladies from castles grim--though I wouldn't have put
my arm round them, of course!
"Perish the thought, my Imp!"
"Uncle Dick!" he said insinuatingly, "I do wish you'd be the Black
Knight, an' let me be Ivanhoe."
"But there are no caitiffs and things left for us to fight, Imp, and no
lovely ladies to rescue from castles grim, alas!"
Now we had been walking on, drawn almost imperceptibly by the magic
thread of the melody, which had led us, by devious paths, to a low stone
wall, beyond which we could see the gleam of lighted windows and the
twinkle of fairy lamps among the trees. And over there, amid the music
and laughter, was Lisbeth in all the glory of her beauty, happy, of
course, and light-hearted; and here, beneath the moon, was I.
"We could pretend this was a castle grim, you know, Uncle Dick, full of
dungeons an' turrets, an' that we were going to rescue Auntie Lisbeth."
"Imp," I said, "that's really a great idea."
"I wish I'd brought my trusty sword," he sighed, searching about for
something to supply its place; "I left it under my pillow, you know."
Very soon, however, he had procured two sticks, somewhat thin and
wobbly, yet which, by the magic of imagination, became transformed into
formidable two-edged swords, with one of which he armed me, the other he
flourished above his head.
"Forward, gallant knights!" he cried; "the breach! the breach! On! on!
St. George for Merrie England!" With the words he clambered upon the
wall and disappeared upon the other side.
For a moment I hesitated, and then, inspired by the music and the
thought of Lisbeth, I followed suit. It was all very mad, of course,
but who cared for sanity on such a night--certainly not I.
"Careful now, Imp!" I cautioned; "if anyone should see us they'll take
us for thieves, or lunatics, beyond a doubt."
We found ourselves in an enclosed garden with a walk which led between
rows of fruit trees. Following this, it brought us out upon a broad
stretch of lawn, with here and there a great tree, and beyond, the
gleaming windows of the house. Filled with the spirit of adventure, we
approached, keeping in the shadow as much as possible, until we could
see figures that strolled to and fro upon the terrace or promenaded the
walks below.
The excitement of dodging our way among so many people was intense; time
and again we were only saved from detection by more than one wandering
couple, owing to the fact that all their attention was centred in
themselves. For instance, we were skirmishing round a clump of laurels,
to gain the shadow of the terrace, when we almost ran into the arms of a
pair; but they didn't see us, for the very good reason that she was
staring at the moon, and he at her.
"So sweet of you, Archibald!" she was saying.
"What did she call him 'bald for, Uncle Dick?" inquired the Imp in a
loud stage-whisper, as I dragged him down behind the laurels. "He's not
a bit bald, you know! An' I say, Uncle Dick, did you see his arm? It
was round----"
"Yes--yes!" I nodded.
"Just like Peter's, you know."
"Yes--yes, I saw."
"I wonder why she called him----"
"Hush!" I broke in, "his name is Archibald, I suppose."
"Well, I hope when I grow up nobody will ever call me----"
"Hush!" I said again, "not a word--there's your Auntie Lisbeth!" She
was, indeed, standing upon the terrace, within a yard of our
hiding-place, and beside her was Mr. Selwyn.
"Uncle Dick," whispered the irrepressible Imp, "do you think if we watch
long enough that Mr. Selwyn will put his arm round----"
"Shut up!" I whispered savagely.
Lisbeth was clad in a long, trailing gown of dove-coloured silk--one of
those close-fitting garments that make the uninitiated, such as myself,
wonder how they are ever got on.
Mr. Selwyn stood beside her with a plate of ice-cream in his hand, which
he handed to her, and they sat down. As I watched her and noticed her
weary, bored air, and how wistfully she gazed up at the silver disc of
the moon, I experienced a feeling of decided satisfaction.
"Yes," said Lisbeth, toying absently with the ice-cream, "he painted
Dorothy's face with stripes of red and green enamel, and goodness only
knows how we can ever get it all off!"
Mr. Selwyn was duly shocked, and murmured something about the "efficacy
of turpentine" in such an emergency.
"Of course, I had to punish him," continued Lisbeth, "so I sent him to
bed immediately after tea, and never went to say good-night, or tuck him
up as I usually do, and it has been worrying me all the evening."
Mr. Selwyn was sure that he was all right, and positively certain that
at this moment he was wrapped in balmy slumber. Despite my warning
grasp, the Imp chuckled, but we were saved by the band striking up. Mr.
Selwyn rose, giving his arm to Lisbeth, and they re-entered the
ballroom. One by one the other couples followed suit until the long
terrace deserted.
Now, upon Lisbeth's deserted chair, showing wonderfully pink in the soft
glow of the Chinese lanterns, was the ice-cream.
"Uncle Dick," said the Imp in his thoughtful way, "I think I'll be a
bandit for a bit."
"Anything you like," I answered rashly, "so long as we get away while we
can."
"All right," he whispered, "I won't be a minute," and before I could
stop him he had scrambled down the steps and fallen to upon the
ice-cream.
The wonderful celerity with which the Imp wolfed down that ice-cream was
positively awe-inspiring. In less time almost than it takes to tell,
the plate was empty. Yet scarcely had he swallowed the last mouthful
when he heard Mr. Selwyn's voice close by. In his haste the Imp dropped
his cap, a glaring affair of red and white, and before he could recover
it, Lisbeth reappeared, followed by Mr. Selwyn.
"It certainly is more pleasant out here!" he was saying.
Lisbeth came straight towards the cap--it was a moral impossibility that
she could fail to see it--yet she sank into her chair without word or
sign. Mr. Selwyn, on the contrary, stood with the empty ice plate in
his hand, staring at it in wide-eyed astonishment.
"It's gone!" he exclaimed.
"Oh!" said Lisbeth.
"Most extraordinary!" said Mr. Selwyn, fixing his monocle and staring
harder than ever; "I wonder where it can have got to?"
"Perhaps it melted!" Lisbeth suggested, "and I should so have loved an
ice!" she sighed.
"Then, of course, I'll get you another, with pleasure," he said, and
hurried off, eyeing the plate dubiously as he went.
No sooner was Lisbeth alone than she kicked aside the train of her dress
and picked up the tell-tale cap.
"Imp!" she whispered, rising to her feet, "Imp, come here at once, sir!"
There was a moment's breathless pause, and then the Imp squirmed himself
into view.
"Hallo, Auntie Lisbeth!" he said, with a cheerfulness wholly assumed.
"Oh!" she cried distressfully, "whatever does this mean; what are you
doing here? Oh, you naughty boy!"
"Lisbeth," I said, as I rose in my turn and confronted her, "do not
blame the child--the fault is mine--let me explain; by means of a
ladder----"
"Not here," she whispered, glancing nervously towards the ballroom.
"Then come where I can."
"Impossible!"
"Not at all; you have only to descend these steps and we can talk
undisturbed."
"Ridiculous!" she said, stooping to replace the Imp's cap; but being
thus temptingly within reach, she was next moment beside us in the
shadows.
"Dick, how could you, how dared you?"
"You see, I had to explain," I answered very humbly; "I really couldn't
allow this poor child to bear the blame of my fault----"
"I'm not a 'poor child,' Uncle Dick," expostulated the Imp; "I'm a
gallant knight and----"
"--The blame of my fault, Lisbeth," I continued. "I alone must face
your just resentment, for----"
"Hush!" she whispered, glancing hastily about.
"--For, by means of a ladder, Lisbeth, a common or garden ladder----"
"Oh, do be quiet!" she said, and laid her hand upon my lips, which I
immediately imprisoned there, but for a moment only; the next it was
snatched away as there came the unmistakable sound of someone
approaching.
"Come along, Auntie Lisbeth," whispered the Imp; "fear not, we'll rescue
you."
Oh! surely there was magic in the air to-night; for, with a swift,
dexterous movement, Lisbeth had swept her long train across her arm, and
we were running hand in hand, all three of us, running across lawns and
down winding paths between yew hedges, sometimes so close together that
I could feel a tress of her fragrant hair brushing my face with a touch
almost like a caress. Surely, surely, there was magic in the air
to-night!
Suddenly Lisbeth stopped, flushed and panting.
"Well!" she exclaimed, staring from me to the Imp, and back again, "was
ever anything so mad!"
"Everything is mad to-night," I said; "it's the moon!"
"To think of my running away like this with two--two----"
"Interlopers," I suggested.
"I really ought to be very, very angry with you--both of you," she said,
trying to frown.
"No, don't be angry with us, Auntie Lisbeth," pleaded the Imp, "'cause
you are a lovely lady in a castle grim, an' we are two gallant knights,
so we had to come an' rescue you; an' you never came to kiss me
good-night, an' I'm awfull' sorry 'bout painting Dorothy's
face--really!"
"Imp," cried Lisbeth, falling on her knees, regardless of her silks and
laces, "Imp, come and kiss me." The Imp drew out a decidedly grubby
handkerchief, and, having rubbed his lips with it, obeyed.
"Now, Uncle Dick!" he said, and offered me the grubby handkerchief.
Lisbeth actually blushed.
"Reginald!" she exclaimed, "whatever put such an idea into your head?"
"Oh! everybody's always kissing somebody, you know," he nodded; "an'
it's Uncle Dick's turn now."
Lisbeth rose from her knees and began to pat her rebellious hair into
order. Now, as she raised her arms, her shawl very naturally slipped to
the ground; and standing there, with her eyes laughing up at me beneath
their dark lashes, with the moonlight in her hair, she had never seemed
quite so bewilderingly beautiful before.
"Dick," she said, "I must go back at once--before they miss me."
"Go back!" I repeated; "never--that is, not yet."
"But suppose anyone saw us!" she said, with a hairpin in her mouth.
"They shan't," I answered; "you will see to that, won't you, Imp?"
"'Course I will, Uncle Dick!"
"Then go you, Sir Knight, and keep faithful ward behind yon apple-tree,
and let no base varlet hither come; that is, if you see anyone, be sure
to tell me."
The Imp saluted and promptly disappeared behind the apple-tree in
question, while I stood watching Lisbeth's dexterous fingers and
striving to remember a line from Keats, descriptive of a beautiful woman
in the moonlight, before I could call it to mind, however, Lisbeth
interrupted me.
"Don't you think you might pick up my shawl instead of staring at me as
if I was----"
"The most beautiful woman in the world!" I put in.
"Who is catching her death of cold," she laughed, yet for all her light
tone her eyes drooped before mine as I obediently wrapped the shawl
about her, in the doing of which, my arm being round her, very naturally
stayed there, and--wonder of wonders, was not repulsed. And at this
very moment, from the shadowy trees behind us, came the rich clear song
of a nightingale.
Oh, most certainly the air was full of magic to-night!
"Dick," said Lisbeth very softly, as the trilling notes died away, "I
thought one could only dream such a night as this is."
"And yet life might hold many such for you and me, if you would only let
it, Lisbeth," I reminded her. She did not answer.
"Not far from the village of Down, in Kent," I began.
"There stands a house," she put in, staring up at the moon with dreamy
eyes.
"Yes."
"A very old house, with twisted Tudor chimneys and pointed gables--you
see, I have it all by heart, Dick--a house with wide stairways and long
panelled chambers----"
"Very empty and desolate at present," I added. "And, amongst other
things, there is a rose garden--they call it My Lady's Garden, Lisbeth,
though no lady has trod its winding paths for years and years. But I
have dreamed, many and many a time, that we stood among the roses, she
and I, upon just such another night as this is. So I keep the old house
ready and the gardens freshly trimmed, ready for my lady's coming; must
I wait much longer, Lisbeth?" As I ended the nightingale took up the
story, pleading my cause for me, filling the air with a melody now
appealing, now commanding, until it gradually died away in one long note
of passionate entreaty.
Lisbeth sighed and turned towards me, but, as she did so, I felt a tug
at my coat, and, looking round, beheld the Imp.
"Uncle Dick," he said, his eyes studiously averted, doubtless on account
of the position of my arm, "here's Mr. Selwyn!"
With a sudden exclamation Lisbeth started from me and gathered up her
skirts to run.
"Where away, my Imp?"
"Coming across the lawn."
"Reginald," I said solemnly, "listen to me; you must sally out upon him
with lance in rest, tell him you are a Knight-errant, wishful to uphold
the glory of that faire ladye, your Auntie Lisbeth, and, whatever
happens, you must manage to keep him away from here. Do you understand?"
"Yes; only I do wish I'd brought my trusty sword, you know," he sighed.
"Never mind that now, Imp."
"Will Auntie Lisbeth be quite----"
"She will be all right."
"I suppose if you put your arm----"
"Never mind my arm, Imp, go!"
"Then fare thee well!" said he, and, with a melodramatic flourish of his
lance, trotted off.
"What did he mean about your arm, Dick?"
"Probably this," I answered, slipping it around her again.
"But you must get away at once," whispered Lisbeth; "if Mr. Selwyn
should see you----"
"I intend that he shall. Oh, it will be quite simple; while he is
talking to me you can get back to the----"
"Hush!" she whispered, laying her fingers on my lips; "listen!"
"Hallo, Mr. Selwyn!" came in the Imp's familiar tones.
"Why, good gracious!" exclaimed another voice, much too near to be
pleasant, "what on earth are you doing here--and at this time of night?"
"Looking for base varlets!"
"Don't you know that all little boys--all nice little boys--should have
been in bed hours ago?"
"But I'm not a nice little boy; I'm a Knight-errant; would you like to
get a lance, Mr. Selwyn, an' break it with me to the glory of my Auntie
Lisbeth?"
"The question is, what has become of her?" said Mr. Selwyn. We waited
almost breathlessly for the answer.
"Oh! I 'specks she's somewhere looking at the moon; everybody looks at
the moon, you know; Betty does, an' the lady with the man with a funny
name 'bout being bald, an'----"
"I think you had better come up to the house," said Mr. Selwyn.
"Do you think you could get me an ice-cream if I did?" asked the Imp
persuasively; "nice an' pink, you know, with----"
"An ice!" repeated Mr. Selwyn; "I wonder how many you have had already
to-night?"
The time for action was come.
"Lisbeth," I said, "we must go; such happiness as this could not last;
how should it? I think it is given us to dream over in less happy days.
For me it will be a memory to treasure always, and yet there might be
one thing more--a little thing, Lisbeth--can you guess?" She did not
speak, but I saw the dimple come and go at the corner of her mouth, so I
stooped and kissed her. For a moment, all too brief, we stood thus,
with the glory of the moonlight about us; then I was hurrying across the
lawn after Selwyn and the Imp.
"Ah, Mr. Selwyn!" I said as I overtook them, "so you have found him,
have you?" Mr. Selwyn turned to regard me, surprise writ large upon
him, from the points of his immaculate patent-leather shoes to the
parting of his no less immaculate hair.
"So very good of you," I continued; "you see he is such a difficult
object to recover when once he gets mislaid; really, I'm awfully
obliged." Mr. Selwyn's attitude was politely formal. He bowed.
"What is it to-night?" he inquired. "Pirates?
"Hardly so bad as that," I returned; "to-night the air is full of the
clash of armour and the ring of steel; if you do not hear it, that is
not our fault."
"An' the woods are full of caddish barons and caitiff knaves, you know,
aren't they, Uncle Dick?"
"Certainly," I nodded, "with lance and spear-point twinkling through the
gloom; but in the silver glory of the moon, Mr. Selwyn, walk errant
damozels and ladyes faire, and again, if you don't see them, the loss is
yours." As I spoke, away upon the terrace a grey shadow paused a moment
ere it was swallowed in the brilliance of the ballroom; seeing which I
did not mind the slightly superior smile that curved Mr. Selwyn's very
precise moustache; after all, my rhapsody had not been altogether thrown
away.
As I ended, the opening bars of a waltz floated out to us. Mr. Selwyn
glanced back over his shoulder.
"Ah! I suppose you can find your way out?" he inquired.
"Oh yes, thanks."
"Then if you will excuse me, I think I'll leave you to--ah--to do it;
the next dance is beginning, and--ah----"
"Certainly," I said, "of course--good-night, and much obliged--really!"
Mr. Selwyn bowed, and, turning away, left us to our own resources.
"I should have liked another ice, Uncle Dick," sighed the Imp
regretfully.
"Knights never ate ice-cream!" I said, as we set off along the nearest
path.
"Uncle Dick," said the Imp suddenly, "do you s'pose Mr. Selwyn wants to
put his arm round Auntie Lis----"
"Possibly!"
"An' do you s'pose that Auntie Lisbeth wants Mr. Selwyn to----"
"I don't know--of course not--er--kindly shut up, will you, Imp?"
"I only wanted to know, you know," he murmured.
Therewith we walked on in silence, and I fell to dreaming of Lisbeth
again, of how she had sighed, of the look in her eyes as she turned to
me with her answer trembling on her lips--the answer which the Imp had
inadvertently cut short.
In this frame of mind I drew near to that corner of the garden where she
had stood with me, that quiet shady corner which henceforth would remain
enshrined within my memory for her sake, which----
I stopped suddenly short at the sight of two figures--one in the cap and
apron of a waiting-maid and the other in the gorgeous plush and gold
braid of a footman; and they were standing upon the very spot where
Lisbeth and I had stood, and in almost the exact attitude--it was
desecration.
I stood stock-still despite the Imp's frantic tugs at my coat, all other
feelings swallowed up in one of half-amused resentment. Then the
resplendent footman happened to turn his head, presently espied me, and
removing his plush-clad arm from the waist of the trim maid-servant, and
doubling his fists, strode towards us with a truly terrible mien.
"And w'ot might your game be?" he inquired, with that supercilious air
inseparable from plush and gold braid. "Oh, I know your kind, I do--I
know yer!"
"Then, fellow," quoth I, "I know not thee."
"Don't get trying to come over me," said he indignantly. "The question
is, w'ot are you 'anging round 'ere for?"
Now, possibly deceived by my pacific attitude, or inspired by the bright
eyes of the trim maid-servant, he seized me, none too gently, by the
collar, to the horrified dismay of the Imp.
"Nay, but I will give thee monies----"
"You are a-going to come up to the 'ouse with me, and none of your
nonsense, either; d'ye 'ear?"
"Then must I needs smite thee for a barbarous dog--hence--base
slave--begone!"
Wherewith I delivered what is technically known in "sporting" circles as
a "right hook to the ear," followed by a "left swing to the chin," and
my assailant immediately disappeared behind a bush, with a flash of pink
silk calves and buckled shoes. Then, while the trim maid-servant filled
the air with her lamentations, the Imp and I ran hot-foot for the wall,
over which I bundled him neck and crop, and we set off pell-mell along
the river-path.
"Oh, Uncle Dick," he panted, "how--how fine you are! You knocked yon
footman--I mean varlet--from his saddle like--like anything. Oh, I do
wish you would play like this every night!"
"Heaven forbid!" I exclaimed fervently.
Coming at last to the Shrubbery gate, we paused awhile to regain our
breath.
"Uncle Dick," said the Imp, regarding me with a thoughtful eye, "did you
see his arm--I mean before you smote him 'hip and thigh'?"
"I did."
"It was round her waist."
"Imp, it was."
"Just like Peter's?"
"Yes."
"An' the man with the funny name?"
"Archibald's, yes."
"An'--an'----"
"And mine," I put in, seeing he paused.
"Uncle Dick--why?"
"Ah! who knows, Imp--perhaps it was the Moon-magic. And now, by my
troth! 'tis full time all good knights were snoring, so hey for bed and
the Slumber-world!"
The ladder was dragged from its hiding-place, and the Imp, having
mounted, watched me from his window as I returned it to the laurels for
very obvious reasons.
"We didn't see any fairies, did we, Uncle Dick?"
"Well, I think I did, Imp, just for a moment; I may have been mistaken,
of course; but anyhow, it has been a very wonderful night all the same.
And so--fare thee well, fair Knight!"
*CHAPTER V*
*THE EPISODE OF THE INDIAN'S AUNT*
The sun blazed down, as any truly self-respecting sun should, on a fine
August afternoon; yet its heat was tempered by a soft, cool breeze that
just stirred the leaves above my head.
The river was busy whispering many things to the reeds, things which,
had I been wise enough to understand, might have helped me to write many
wonderful books, for, as it is so very old, and has both seen and heard
so much, it is naturally very wise. But alas! being ignorant of the
language of rivers, I had to content myself with my own dreams, and the
large, speckled frog that sat beside me, watching the flow of the river
with his big, gold-rimmed eyes.
He was happy enough, I was sure. There was a complacent satisfaction in
every line of his fat mottled body. And as I watched him my mind very
naturally reverted to the _Pickwick Papers_, and I repeated Mrs. Leo
Hunter's deathless ode, beginning:
"Can I see thee panting, dying,
On a log,
Expiring frog!"
The big, green frog beside me listened with polite attention, but, on
the whole, seemed strangely unmoved. Remembering the book in my pocket,
I took it out; an old book, with battered leathern covers, which has
passed through many hands since it was first published, more than two
hundred years ago.
Indeed it is a wonderful, a most delightful book, known to the world as
_The Compleat Angler_, in which, to be sure, one may read something of
fish and fishing, but more about old Izaak's lovable self, his sunny
streams and shady pools, his buxom milkmaids, and sequestered inns, and
his kindly animadversions upon men and things in general. Yet, as I
say, he does occasionally speak of fish and fishing, and amongst other
matters, concerning live frogs as bait, after describing the properest
method of impaling one upon the hook, he ends with this injunction--
"Treat it as though you loved it, that it may live the longer!"
Up till now the frog had preserved his polite attentiveness in a manner
highly creditable to his upbringing, but this proved too much; his
overcharged feelings burst from him in a hoarse croak, and he
disappeared into the river with a splash.
"Good afternoon, Uncle Dick!" said a voice at my elbow, and looking
round, I beheld Dorothy. Beneath one arm she carried the fluffy kitten,
and in the other hand a scrap of paper.
"I promised Reginald to give you this," she continued, "and--oh yes--I
was to say 'Hist!' first."
"Really! And why were you to say 'Hist'?"
"Oh, because all Indians always say 'Hist!' you know."
"To be sure they do," I answered; "but am I to understand that you are
an Indian?"
"Not to-day," replied Dorothy, shaking her head. "Last time Reginald
painted me Auntie was awfull' angry--it took her and nurse ages to get
it all off--the war-paint, I mean--so I'm afraid I can't be an Indian
again!"