Peregrines Progress | Page 6

pamper and cherish--"
"Instead of us, Jervas!"
"Us? George, don't be a fool! She couldn't wed us both, man!"
"Why, no!" sighed uncle George. "She'd ha' to be content wi' one of us, to be sure, and that one would be--"
"Myself, George!"
"Aye!" quoth uncle George, sighing more gustily than ever. "Begad, I think it would, Jervas."
"Though, mark me, George, I have sometimes thought she has the preposterous lack of judgment to prefer you."
"No--did you though!" exclaimed my uncle George, spurs jingling again. "B'gad, and did you though--dooce take me!"
"Aye, George, I did, but only very occasionally. Of course, were she free of this incubus Peregrine, free to live for her own happiness instead of his, I should have her wedded and wifed while you were thinking about it."
"Aye," sighed my uncle George, "you were always such an infernal dasher--"
"As it is, the boy will grow into a priggish, self-satisfied do-nothing, and she into an adoring, solitary old woman--"
"Julia! An old woman! Good God! Hush, Jervas--it sounds dooced indecent!"
"But true, George, devilish true! Here's Julia must grow into a crotchety old female, myself into a solitary, embittered recluse, and you into a lonely, doddering old curmudgeon--and all for sake of this damned lad--"
At this, stirred by sudden impulse, I thrust my head out of the window and hemmed loudly, whereupon they halted very suddenly and stood staring up at me, their surprised looks plain to see by reason of the brilliant moon.
"Pardon me, my dear uncles," said I, bowing to them as well as I might, "pardon me, but I venture to think not--"
"Now 'pon me everlasting soul!" exclaimed my uncle Jervas, fumbling for his eyeglass. "What does the lad mean?"
"With your kind attention, he will come down and explain," said I, and clambering through the casement, I descended forthwith, hand over hand, by means of the ivy stems that grew very thick and strong hereabouts.
Reaching the terrace, I paused to brush the dust from knee and elbow while my uncle Jervas, lounging against the balustrade, viewed me languidly through his glass, and uncle George stared at me very round of eye and groped at his close-trimmed whisker.
"Sirs," said I, glancing from one to other, "I regret that I should appear to you as a 'fish,' a 'puppy' and a 'self-satisfied do-nothing,' but I utterly refuse to be considered either an 'incubus' or a 'damned lad'!"
"Oh, the dooce!" ejaculated uncle George.
"To the which end," I proceeded, "I propose to remove myself for a while--let us say for six months or thereabouts--on a condition."
"Remove yourself, nephew?" repeated uncle Jervas, peering at me a little more narrowly. "Pray where?"
"Anywhere, sir. I shall follow the wind, tramp the roads, consort with all and sundry, open the book of Life and endeavour to learn of man by man himself."
"Very fine!" said my uncle Jervas,--"and damned foolish!"
"In a word," I continued, "I propose to follow your very excellent advice, Uncle Jervas, and go out into the world to find my manhood if I can! That was your phrase, I think?"
"Ah, and when, may I ask?"
"At once, sir. But, as I said before--on a condition."
"Hum!" quoth my uncle Jervas, dropping his glass to tenderly stroke his somewhat too prominent chin.
"And might we humbly venture to enquire as to the condition?"
"Merely this, sir; so soon as Aunt Julia is freed of her incubus--so soon as I am gone--you will see to it she is not lonely. You will woo her, beginning at once, both together or turn about, because I would not have her--this best, this noblest and most generous of women--forfeit anything of happiness on my account; because, having neither father nor mother that I ever remember, the love and reverence that should have been theirs I have given to her."
"Lord!" exclaimed my uncle George, clashing his spurs suddenly. "Lord love the lad--begad--oh, the dooce!"
As for uncle Jervas, forgetting his languor, he stood suddenly erect, frowning, his chin more aggressive than ever.
"You haven't been drinking, have you, Peregrine?" he demanded.
"No, sir!"
"Then you must be mad!"
"I think not, sir. Howbeit, I shall go!"
"Preposterousandamridiculous!" he exclaimed in a breath.
"Possibly, sir!" quoth I, squaring my shoulders resolutely. "But my mind is resolved--"
"Julia--your aunt, will never permit such tom-fool nonsense, boy!"
"I am determined, sir!" said I, folding my arms. "I go for her sake--her future happiness--"
"Happiness?" cried my uncle George, pulling at his whisker, "'t would break her heart, Perry; she'd grieve, boy, aye, begad she would--she'd grieve, as I say, and--grieve, d'ye see--"
"Then you must comfort her--you or Uncle Jervas, or both! Woo her, win her whoever can, only make her happy--that happiness she has denied herself for my sake, all these years. This you must do--it is for this I am about to sacrifice the joy of her companionship, the gentle quiet and luxury of home to pit myself, alone and friendless,