Peregrines Progress | Page 8

perhaps, but these should last you a few days--with care, or at least until, wearying of hardship, you steal back into the silken lap of luxury."
"And look 'ee, Perry lad," added uncle George, clapping me on the shoulder and eyeing me a little anxiously, "come back soon, boy--soon, d'ye see--"
"He will, George, he will!" nodded uncle Jervas.
"He looks damnably solitary, somehow, Jervas."
"And small, George."
"Sirs," said I, "for my lack of size, blame nature. As to loneliness--'my mind to me my kingdom is,' and one peopled by a thousand loved friends, or of what avail the reading of books?"
"Books? M--yes, precisely!" quoth my uncle George, ruffling up his thick curls and eyeing me askance. "But what are we to tell your aunt Julia?"
"Nothing, sir. At the first inn I stop at I will write her fully regarding my departure and future plans--"
"But--oh, curse it. Perry," exclaimed uncle George, fumbling for his whisker, "she'll be sure to blame us, aye, she will so, b'gad d'ye see--"
"Not when she reads my letter, sir. Indeed I feel--nay, I know that my absence will but serve to draw you nearer together, all three, and I look forward with assured hope to seeing her happily wedded to--to one or other of you when--when I return--"
"Lord love me!"
"Now on me immortal soul!" exclaimed my two uncles in one breath.
"My dear sirs," I continued, "I have long suspected your passion for my peerless aunt, nor do I venture to blame you--"
"Blame, b'gad!" exclaimed my uncle George faintly.
"To-night I chanced to overhear words pass between you that put the matter beyond doubt--"
"Impertinent young eavesdropper!" exclaimed my uncle Jervas, very red in the face.
"Thus, in taking my departure, I can but wish you every happiness. But before I go, I would beg of you to satisfy me on a point of family history--if you will. My parents died young, I believe?"
"They did!" answered my uncle Jervas in strangely repressed voice.
"Very young!" sighed my uncle George.
"And what--how came they to die?" I questioned.
"Your mother died of--a broken heart, Peregrine," said uncle Jervas.
"Sweet child!" added uncle George.
"Then I pray that God in His mercy has mended it long ere this," said I. "And my father, sirs,--how came he by death so early?"
Here my two uncles exchanged looks as though a little at a loss.
"Has your aunt never told you?" enquired my uncle Jervas.
"Never, sir! And her distress forbade my questioning more than the once. But you are men and so I ask you how did your brother and my father die?"
"Shot in a duel, lad, killed on the spot!" said my uncle George, and I saw his big hand clench itself into a quivering fist. "They fought in a little wood not so far from here--such a lad he was--our fag at school, d'ye see. I remember they carried him up these very steps--and the sun so bright--and he had scarcely begun to live--"
"And the bullet that slew him," added my uncle Jervas, "just as surely killed your mother also."
"Yes!" said I. "And whose hand sped that bullet?"
"He is dead!" murmured my uncle Jervas, gazing up at the placid moon. "Dead and out of reach--years ago."
"Aye--he died abroad," added uncle George, "Brussels, I think, or Paris--or was it Vienna--anyhow he--is dead!"
"And--out of reach!" murmured uncle Jervas, still apparently lost in contemplation of the moon.
"As to yourself, dear, foolish lad," said uncle George, laying his hand upon my shoulder, "if go you will, come back soon! And should you meet trouble--need a friend--any assistance, d'ye see, you can always find me at the Grange."
"Or a letter to me, Peregrine, directed to my chambers in St. James's Street, will always bring you prompt advice in any difficulty and, what is better, perhaps--money. Moreover, should you wish to see the town or aspire socially, you will find I can be of some small service--"
"My dear uncles," I exclaimed, grasping their hands in turn, "for this kind solicitude God bless you both again and--good-bye!"
So saying, I turned (somewhat hastily) and went my way; but after I had gone some distance I glanced back to behold them watching me, motionless and side by side; hereupon, moved by their wistful attitude, I forgot my dignity and, whipping off my hat, I flourished it to them above my head ere a bend in the drive hid them from my view.
CHAPTER III
WHEREIN THE READER SHALL FIND SOME DESCRIPTION OF AN EXTRAORDINARY TINKER
I went at a good, round pace, being determined to cover as much distance as possible ere dawn, since I felt assured that so soon as my indomitable aunt Julia discovered my departure she would immediately head a search party in quest of me; for which cogent reason I determined to abandon the high road as soon as possible and go by less frequented byways.
A distant church clock chimed