CHAPTER II
I GO TO FIND DIANA
Birds were calling their melodious complaint on the passing of anotherday and the shadows were lengthening when I came to a cross-roadswhere stood a timeworn finger-post beneath which sat a solitary figurein weather-beaten hat and coat, head bowed over the book opened uponhis knees.
Now at sight of this lonely figure I reined in so suddenly that thissolitary person glanced up and I saw the white hair, keen eyes andpale, aquiline features of the Earl of Wyvelstoke. At sight of me heclosed the book and rose, and in stern features, in every line of hisslender, shabby figure was a stately aloofness that chilled me.
"My lord?" said I interrogatively, and taking off my hat, I bowed.
"Ah, Mr. Vereker," he answered, with a slight inclination of his head."So you come at last. A charming evening. I wish you as well of it asyou deserve!" And turning his back, he began to limp away; but in amoment I was off my horse and, hastening after, ventured to touch hisarm, then fell back in sheer amazement before the ferocious glare ofhis eyes; yet his voice was as politely modulated as usual when hespoke:
"Sir, were you any other than Peregrine Vereker--old as I am, I wouldcall you out--and shoot you with peculiar satisfaction--"
"My lord--sir--?" I stammered.
"Sir," he continued, "you will doubtless have very many excellentexcuses to offer for your perfectly inexcusable conduct--but doubtlessyou will at least have the good taste to keep them to yourself.Whatever your reasons, you have been the cause of much pain and verymany bitter tears to--to one I hold inexpressibly dear."
"My lord, I--I have been ill--"
"And it is, I believe, mainly owing to her devotion that youstill--gladden the world, sir."
"My lord, I am here to--to--give Diana my hand in fulfilment of mypromise."
"Are you indeed, Mr. Vereker--you surprise me!"
"To marry her whenever she will, sir."
"Permit me to remark that you are perhaps a little tardy."
"None the less I am here, sir!"
"Your condescension, Mr. Vereker, is somewhat overpowering, suchmagnanimity I find vastly touching. But Diana, I am assured, had noidea of permitting you thus to immolate yourself on the altar ofduty."
"That, my lord, by your favour, I mean to learn from her own lips--atonce."
"Impossible, sir!" he retorted, smiling bitterly. "Quite--quiteimpossible."
"Impossible, my lord--impossible? Pray what--sir, what do you mean?" Istammered.
"That if indeed you are minded--a little late in the day perhaps--butif--after very mature deliberation--you at last think fit to fulfilyour pledge to Diana, it will of course be necessary that you firstdiscover her present whereabouts."
"Is she not here at Wyvelstoke with you, my lord?"
"Emphatically not, sir!"
"Then she is with Mrs. Vere-Manville at Nettlestead or in London--atleast I will go there--at once."
"Then you will waste your time, sir. Diana has disappeared."
"Disappeared? Ah, you mean she has gone--run away? Pray, my lord, praywhen--when did she go?"
His lordship looked at me keenly a while and when he spoke his voiceseemed less harsh:
"The news would seem to disturb you, sir?"
"Beyond words, sir. Henceforth I shall know little rest until I findher. Pray when did she leave you--and how?"
"She fled--yesterday morning--stole from Wyvelstoke beforedaybreak--she was seen by one of the keepers stealing away in thedawn. She fled away to--hide her grief--leaving behind all her jewelsand--a very--solitary, very old--man. She was all I had--my comrade,my Penthesilea--my loved daughter--"
His lordship's voice broke upon the word, his usually upright figureseemed suddenly bowed and shrunken, he looked indeed a verygrief-stricken, decrepit old man as he stood fumbling in the pocketsof his shabby coat, whence he presently drew a letter that shook andrustled in his fingers as he unfolded it.
"She left this also, sir," he continued with an evident effort, "prayread it--you will find some mention of--breaking hearts the whichshould interest you a little--read it, sir!"
So I took the letter and saw it was this:
DEAREST PAL AND NOBLEST OF MEN:My poor heart is breaking, I think, and knowing how true I and deep isyour love for me I would not have you see my pain. So I have run awayfrom you awhile--fled away to the Silent Places like the poor, hurtcreature I am. There I mean to hide until my wound is a little healedand then I shall come back to you, my dear, that I may surround youwith my love and teach you how inexpressibly dear you are to Your would-be daughter and ever loving, grateful, DIANA.
"Has she money, sir?" I enquired, returning the letter.
"Very, very little, I fear."
"Then she cannot have gone very far."
"Ah, Peregrine--" the proud, old head drooped and the hand that creptupon my dusty coat sleeve was very thin and tremulous; "ah, Peregrine,if you love her, find her again--find her for Love's sake--and thesake of a desolate--heartsick--old man!"
"Sir," I answered, covering this twitching hand with my own, "Iwill--bring her back to you--if I have to travel the world over--Iwill find her if it takes me all my life and every penny I possess!"
Then, mounting my horse, I swung him round and galloped away withoutfurther word of farewell or so much as one backward glance.
Peregrine's Progress Page 57