Peregrine's Progress

by Jeffery Farnol

  CHAPTER V

  STORM AND TEMPEST

  A blusterous wind that fluttered the skirts of my long, caped coat,that filled the night with stir and tumult and flaws of sudden rain; awind that whirled black masses of ragged cloud across a loweringheaven lit by a pallid moon that peeped stealthily and vanished, topeep again.

  And glancing from desolate, wind-swept streets to flying cloud-wrack,I judged there was worse to come and knew a strange, unnatural joytherefore, as I bent my head to buffeting wind and reined the fieryanimal I bestrode to less furious pace.

  We crossed the river at London Bridge, a dark horror of moving watersswirling here and there in the ineffectual beam of lamp or lanthorn;on past gloomy streets and narrow courts where dim forms jostled, andever and always the blusterous wind rioting 'twixt heaven and earth,booming in chimneys, moaning in dark corners, rattling windows,clapping-to crazy shutters and setting signboards a-swing on scoldinghinges.

  On and on through this ever-growing turbulence, while Wildfire tossedproud head, snorted defiance upon the elements, and bored eagerly uponthe bit. But once the great city was behind us, I gave him his willand away we went headlong into the wind, the clatter of his gallopinghoofs drowned in the universal uproar. But fast as he sped, the demonof doubt and suspicion and growing dread kept pace, and for once,riding Wildfire, I forgot Wildfire and all else save the hell withinme.

  A black-bodied chaise picked out in yellow!

  And now came the rain to lash me and I bared my head the better tofeel it. Before me in the swirling dark were twinkling lights lurchingrapidly nearer, and down upon me loomed a stagecoach, a mountainousshape that flitted by me like a phantom. A phantom? The very nightseemed peopled by phantoms; I sped past phantom wains and waggons,piled high with phantom loads, that moved with no sound of hoofs orwheels; spectral horsemen flitted by, soundless; in the shadow ofhissing hedgerow and raving, wind-tossed trees crawled miserable,nebulous shapes, seen but to be lost again, swallowed in the howlingmurk.

  Rushing wind and lashing rain; pale gleams of a fitful moon to showswaying trees that tossed wild arms to heaven, and a splashing quagbelow, mud and wind-swept pools, all lost again in the swirling dark.And buffeted thus, beaten by rain, smitten by unseen things, gaspingin the wind's fierce gusts, my one thought was:

  A black-bodied chaise with red wheels--Captain Danby!

  How long I galloped at this wild and reckless pace I do not know, butlittle by little I became aware that the rain had ceased, the cloudswere rent asunder and the moon looked down, pale and remote, upon adesolate countryside very ghostly and unreal and wholly unfamiliar.Before me was a winding road fringed with dripping, sombre trees andreining Wildfire to a standstill, I found that the wind had greatlyabated its fury. But though the storm was over, the storm within meraged fierce as ever; therefore, heedless of where the morning foundme, I spurred Wildfire forward and rode with slackened rein, leavinghim to take me where he would.

  A black-bodied chaise--What should bring Diana in company with suchbrutal satyr as Captain Danby?

  Lost thus in agonising thought, I was riding with loosened rein andlax grip when Wildfire shied, swerved violently, throwing me from thesaddle, and lying half-stunned, I heard him gallop away down the road.

  For a while I lay there with no desire to move, but at last, summoningall my resolution, I scrambled weakly to my feet and endeavoured tofollow, but after some while, wondered to see it so dark and found Iwas among trees that closed about me ever denser. Yet I struggled on,pushing my way haphazard through the undergrowth, being yet muchshaken by my fall, until I came out into a narrow way lit by the moon;but scarcely was I here than I paused to lean against a tree, overcomeby a sick faintness. And thus leaned I some while to recover mystrength, and in my ears the dismal drip, drip of sodden trees and themournful sighing of the wind in their branches, a sigh that rose everynow and then to a low wailing, very dreadful to hear.

  Now, all at once, I lifted my aching head, for, as my brain cleared, Iknew that this wailing was not of the wind; thus I stood with breathin check waiting for it to come again. And suddenly I heard it, a low,murmurous cry, unutterably doleful.

  "O God--O God--I want to be dead--I want to be dead!"

  So I turned aside and, following the path, saw it ended at a frowningdoorway set within a high and sinister wall; and recognising thisdoor, this high wall and gloomy wood, I felt myself cold with thatindefinable sense of impending evil which this desolate place hadawoke in me before--

  "O kind God--if I could only die!"

  Going in among the trees I saw a shape of misery outstretchedface-down upon the sodden earth, a shape that wrung pale hands andwrithed in awful manner. Trembling, I sank on one knee beside her.

  "Woman!" said I, laying hand lightly on her shoulder.

  "Child!"

  She raised a haggard face, its youthful beauty distorted by horror,its pallid cheeks stained with mire, and I blenched before the look inthese wide eyes.

  "Don't touch me!" she whispered hoarsely. "Don't look at me--I can'tabide it--go away--let me die--"

  "Child, where is your home?"

  "None!" she whispered. "None! I durs'n't go back ... now. Oh, never nomore ... they made me drunk ... when I woke ... ah, don't look at me... I wish the sun 'ud go out for ever ... If I could only die!... Ifought them as long as I could.... Oh, kill me, God.... I want to bedead ... but I want Tom first ... my Tom ... I want him to know 'tweren't ... my fault. O Tom dear, Tom as I loved ... how can I tell'ee. O God, I want to be dead!"

  "Come, child," said I gently. "Come with me, you shall be safe,sheltered for to-night, and in the morning Tom shall be found foryou--"

  "Ah, no, no!" she panted, shrinking from my touch. "You're a mantoo--let me die!"

  "Poor girl, poor child," said I, "there is an inn near by and a goodwoman to comfort you, come, you shall be safe, I swear, and find yourTom--"

  Despite her feeble struggles, I got her afoot and half-led,half-carried her along that tortuous path and so at last out of thatevil wood. Afar, across the meadows, I spied the chimneys of the"Soaring Lark" and, though dawn was not broken, to my joyful wondersaw its hospitable windows aglow and the beam of a moving light in theyard.

  How we accomplished the distance I do not know, but we reached the innat last and beheld a lanthorn borne by a stalwart form.

  "Who's yon?" demanded a gruff voice.

  "George," I panted, "if that's you--bear a hand with this poorgirl--quick, she's swooning--"

  "Why, Mr. Vereker!" exclaimed George's astonished voice, and nextmoment the fainting girl was caught up in powerful arms and borne intothe inn kitchen, I staggering after.

  "Mary--Moll--O Mary, old woman!"

  A patter of quick feet upon the stair and George's Mary came running,seeming as bonny and buxom as ever, despite her scant _deshabille_, asshe bent above the swooning girl.

  "Poor maid--out i' the storm an' clemmed wi' cold an' 'unger, poorlass! Bring her upstairs--our warm bed, Jarge--an' then brandy, lad,an' the kettle on th' fire--up wi' you!"

  Left alone, I filled the kettle from a bucket in a corner, and settingit upon the fire, drew up a chair and sat to dry my clothes and warmmy shivering limbs, and presently, what with my weariness and thefire's comfort, began to nod. Opening unwilling eyes, I found Georgebeside me, holding a steaming glass to my lips, and now felt myselfdeathly cold and shivering in every limb.

  "Drink it, sir--hot rum an' a slice o' lemon--nought like it--drinkit. Lord, Mr. Vereker, sir--'ere be a go sure-ly!" he exclaimed,smiling and nodding, as I sipped the fragrant beverage. "Awhile agonecomes an 'orse into the yard, a-stampin' and a-neighin', so up I jumpsand looks out o' winder. 'Lord, old woman,' I sez, 'yonder's Mr.Vereker's Wildfire,' I sez, 'I'd know 'im anywheers,' I sez; 'but whatbeats me,' I sez, 'there ain't Mr. Vereker.' So down I comes, rubsdown the 'oss, takes the lanthorn an' is about to start lookin' foryou when in you comes an' wi' you this poor lass--so wot I says nowis, Lord, Mr. Vereker, sir, 'ere 's a go,
sure-ly!"

  "It is!" said I. "What of the girl, poor soul?"

  "All right, Mr. Vereker, sir--she'm wi' my old woman, y' see,consequently she'll be right as ninepence in the morning, bless your'eart, sir."

  "I doubt it, George. You see, I found her--in the pine wood yonder,close beside that damnable gate in the wall."

  "Did ye so, sir, did ye so?" said he in altered voice. Then, clenchinghis brawny fists, he raised frowning eyes to a bayonet above themantel, a long, deadly-looking thing that glittered with constantcleaning. "Ah, by God!" he growled fiercely, "by God, Mr. Vereker,sir--there's them as I'd like t' have wrigglin' their beastly livesout on the end o' my old bagnet--"

  "Hot water, Jarge!" commanded the buxom Mary from the stairs.

  "Comin', old woman--comin'! Get a nap, Mr. Vereker, sir; your wetclo'es won't hurt 'ee now--I've slep' in wetter many a time in thePeninsula--nothin' like rum took 'ot an' plenty on 't sir. Comin,' oldwoman--comin'!" and whisking the heavy kettle from the fire, he noddedand hurried up the stair.