CHAPTER XXXVIII
A CRUCIFIXION
"Where are you taking me, Peregrine?"
Birds were singing joyously, the brook chuckled and laughed merrilyamid the shallows, the morning sun shone in glory, and all natureseemed to rejoice, as if care and sadness were things unknown.
"Where are we going, dear Peregrine?"
"To seek your heart's desire."
"That sounds very lovely!" said Diana, laughing gaily and giving myarm a little hug. "But everything seems so--wonderful lately!"
After this we walked in silence awhile, for when I would have told herwhither we were going and why, I could not, try how I would.
"Barbara was telling me how she first met you and Anthony; she is verybeautiful, don't ye think, Peregrine?"
"Very!"
"So beautiful that I wonder you didn't fall in love wi' her."
"I waited to fall in love with Diana, who is much more beautiful, Ithink--"
"Do you, Peregrine, do you think so--really?"
Here, of course, I stopped to kiss her.
"The wonder is," said she, "the great wonder is that she didn't fallin love wi' you, Peregrine."
"I'm very glad she didn't! Besides, there's Anthony, so strong andtall and handsome, so altogether different to myself and much morelikely to capture a woman's fancy."
"Not all women, Peregrine."
Here she stopped to kiss me.
"Barbara is a much--gentler sort of fine lady than--your aunt, Ithink--"
"Aunt Julia can be gentle also--sometimes, dear--"
"When she gets her own way, Peregrine!"
"You will learn to love her very much some day, I hope, Diana."
"I hope so--but it'll take her a mighty long time learning to love me,I think," sighed Diana. "Lord, what furious fuss she'll make when shefinds out we'm married. Not as I shall care--if you don't, dear. Why,Peregrine--yonder's Wyvelstoke Towers!"
"Yes," said I, "it is there we are going."
"But why--what for?"
"Dear, have patience--just a little longer," I pleaded.
At this she was silent, but her hand tightened on my arm, and I wasaware of the sudden trouble in her eyes. So, having crossed the park,we came into the pleasaunce, a place of clipped yew hedges and trimwalks. And here who should meet us but the sedate Atkinson, who,having saluted us gravely, led the way to a rustic arbour where sathis lordship engaged upon the perusal of a book. At sight of us, herose to welcome us with his wistful, kindly smile.
"Ah, Peregrine," said he, viewing us with his keen gaze as we satbeside him, "I perceive you have not told her."
"Not a word, sir," said I, a little hoarsely.
"Old pal," she questioned, glancing from me to his lordship and backagain, "what d'ye mean? Peregrine, what is it?"
"Diana," said I, finding my tongue very unready, "dear--what is yourgreatest wish--what is your most passionate desire?"
"You!" she answered in her sweet, direct fashion.
"And--what next?"
"To be a lady! Oh, you know that and you know why--to be done wi' thisfear that sometimes I may shame you by my talk or by acting wrong; youknow, don't you?"
"This is why I brought you here, Diana. My lord has offered to--haveyou taught all this and--much beside."
"Oh!" she sighed rapturously. "You mean to teach me to be a lady? Oh,dear, dear old pal--can you, will you?"
"Child, it would be my most joyful privilege."
"But, Diana," I continued haltingly, yet speaking as lightly as Icould and keeping my gaze averted, "to learn so much you must--staywith his lordship--travel abroad--meet great people--be instructed bymany skilled teachers and--there will be your music--singing--"
"Will they teach me everything a lady should learn, grammar an'deportment an' dancing--?"
"Everything, Diana."
"But, Peregrine, while I'm away learning all this, where will you be?"
"I shall remain--here!"
"Oh, well, that's done it! I shall stay with you, of course!"
"That would be impossible," said I, as lightly as I could, "quiteimpossible; such love as ours, that demands so much, would be a greathindrance to your progress, don't you see? All the time you werestudying, I should hover around you most distractingly. No, we mustpart--for a little while--"
"For how long, Peregrine?"
"Only two years, dear!"
"So long--so very long! Two years! Ah, no, no, I couldn't bear it!"
"Two years will--soon pass!" said I, between clenched teeth. "And ofcourse you will be--too busy to--miss me--very much--"
"Ah, how can you think so?"
"And you will be working for me as much as for your dear self, Diana,and--our love--our future happiness. So you will go, dear heart--?"
"For two years? No--it's too long--you might die--O Peregrine!"
"The contingency is remote--I--I mean--"
"But I can't leave you! I mustn't--I won't! I shall be your wife!"
"No, Diana, that--that must wait until you--come back."
"Wait?" she gasped. "Peregrine--O Peregrine--"
"I want you to be free, Diana--"
"Well, I won't be! I'm not free and never shall be because I belong toyou and we belong to each other for ever and ever."
"Oh, my dear--my dear, God knows it!" cried I and clasped her to me inyearning arms. "But I want you to go into this new life quite free andunfettered, because it is a great and ever-growing wonder that youshould love me who am neither very handsome nor strong nor brave--so Iwant you to meet men who are--fine gentlemen, and compare them withpoor me. And O Diana, if you can return so much cleverer and wiser forall you have seen and learned and can still love me--why, then, Diana,oh, then--" my voice broke but in this moment her arms were about meand stooping her lovely head she mingled her tears with mine.
"Dear foolish boy," she murmured passionately, "how can you thinkthere could ever be any other but just you. Ah, Perry dear, don't sendme away; I should hate to be a lady now. Oh, be content with me as Iam--don't send me away--"
"I must--for your sake," I groaned, "for your future, to help you tothe better thing. Though God knows I love you well enough as you are,and want you, Diana, want you with every nerve and fibre of me, withevery breath. Oh, sir, sir," I cried, "help me to be strong for--hersake!"
"You are, boy!" answered his lordship, and I saw he had crossed to thedoorway and stood with his back to us. "Diana," he continued after amoment, "in this world of change, of doubt and uncertainty, one thingis very sure and beyond all cavil and dispute: Peregrine loves you farbetter than he loves himself, since he is strong enough to forego somuch of present happiness for your future welfare. He honours me byplacing you in my charge, I who love you as a daughter and will treatyou as such. So, Diana, will you give yourself to my care awhile, willyou become my companion and loved child?"
"Must I, Peregrine?" she sobbed. "Oh, must I?"
"Yes!" said I, looking at her through blinding tears. "Yes!"
Obediently she arose and, crossing to his lordship, placed her hand inhis.
"I'll go wi' you, old pal," said she.
Now as our Ancient Person turned to smile at her, I saw his furrowedcheek was wet with tears also.
"Sir, when--when do you start?" I enquired.
"At once, Peregrine. We shall be in London to-night."
"Then this is--good-bye, sir?"
"Yes, my children!"
"My lord," said I, rising wearily, "I am leaving with you all Ipossess, my present joy, my--hope for the future, my loved Diana."
"God make me worthy of the charge, Peregrine."
All in a moment she was at my feet, upon her knees, her arms fastabout me, her face hidden against me, her body shaken with convulsivesobs.
"O Perry, I can't--I can't do it--no, no--don't let me go--"
At this I knelt also and thus we faced each other on our knees, aswhen Love first had found us. And so I clasped and kissed and stroveto comfort her, until the
passion of her grief was abated. "Must I go,dear Peregrine--must I go?" she whispered, beneath my kisses.
"Yes, for the sake of the future--yours and mine. God keep youand--good-bye, my own Diana!"
Then I arose and left her there upon her knees, looking after methrough fast-falling tears and her loved arms stretched out to me inpiteous supplication.
"Peregrine," she pleaded, "oh, my Peregrine!"
But I turned away and rushed from the spot, never daring to look back;but ever as I went, that desolate cry rang and echoed in my ears.