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Read Ebook: Our Admirable Betty: A Romance by Farnol Jeffery
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Ebook has 3508 lines and 99870 words, and 71 pages
"O, man," she cried, shaking her head at him, "for love of Heaven don't be so pestilent humble--I despise humility in horse or man!"
"Humble? Am I?" queried the Major and fell to pondering the question, chin in hand.
"Aye, truly," she answered, nodding aggressively, "your humility nauseates me, positively!"
"Child," he answered smiling, "what manner of man would you have?"
"Grandad," she answered, "I would have him tall and strong and brave, but--above all--masterful!"
"In a word, a blustering bully!" he answered gently, grey eyes a-twinkle.
"An ancient man, ill-dressed and humble," he suggested and laughed; whereat she frowned and bit her bonnet-string in strong, white teeth, then:
"'Tis a very beast of a coat!" she exclaimed, "stained, spotted, tarnished, tattered and torn!"
"And the buttons are scratched and hanging by threads!"
"Aye, but they'll not come off," said the Major confidently, "I sewed 'em on myself."
"You sewed them--you!" and she laughed in fine scorn. "Indeed, sir, I marvel they don't drop off under my very eyes!"
"Madam," said he gravely, "among few accomplishments, permit me to say I am a somewhat expert--er--needles-man."
Hereupon the apparition seated herself dexterously on the broad coping of the wall and from that vantage surveyed him with eyes of cold disparagement. And after she had regarded him thus for a long moment she spoke 'twixt curling red lips:
"O, Gemini--I might have known it!"
At this the Major ruffled the curls of his great wig and regarded her with some apprehension. At last he ventured a question:
"And pray madam, what might you have known concerning me?"
"A man who sews on his own buttons is a disgrace to his sex," she answered.
"But how if he have no woman to do it for him?"
"He should be a man and--get one."
"Hum!" said the Major thoughtfully, "a needle is a sharp engine and apt to prick one occasionally 'tis true, and yet a man may prefer it to a woman."
"And you," she exclaimed, drooping disdainful lashes, "you--are a--soldier!"
"I was!" he answered.
"Soldiers are gallant, they say."
"They are kind!" bowed the Major.
"You are, I think, the poor, old, wounded soldier Major d'Arcy who lives at the Manor yonder?" she questioned.
"I am that shattered wreck, madam, and what remains of me is very humbly at your service!" and setting hand to bosom of war-worn coat he bowed with a prodigious flourish.
"And you have never been so extreme fortunate as to behold my Lady Elizabeth Carlyon?"
"Hum!" said the Major, pondering, "what like is she?"
At this slender hands clasped each other, dark eyes upturned themselves to translucent heaven and rounded bosom heaved ecstatic:
"O sir, she is extreme beautiful, 'tis said! She is a toast adored! She is seen but to be worshipped! She hath wit, beauty and a thousand accomplishments! She hath such an air! Such a killing droop of the eyelash! She is--O, she is irresistible!"
"Indeed," said the Major, glancing up into the beautiful face above, "the description is just, though something too limited, perhaps."
The eyes came back to earth and the Major in a flash:
"Then you have seen her, sir?"
"I'm sure of it."
"Then describe her--come!"
"Why, she is, I judge, neither too short nor too tall!"
"True!" nodded the apparition, gently acquiescent.
"True--O, most true, sir!"
"Yet sufficiently--er--full and rounded!"
The dark eyes were veiled suddenly by down-drooping lashes:
"You think so, sir?"
"Hair night-black, a chin well-determined and bravely dimpled--
"It hath been remarked before, sir!"
"Fie, sir, 'tis a vulgar phrase and trite. I suggest instead rose-petals steeped in dew."
"Indeed, sir?"
"And what of her eyes, sir? I have heard them called dreamy lakes, starry pools and unfathomable deeps, ere now. What d'you make of them?"
But the Major's own eyes were lowered, his bronzed cheek showed an unwonted flush and his sinewy fingers were fumbling with one of his loose coat-buttons.
"Nought!" said he at last, "others methinks have described 'em better than ever I could."
"Major d'Arcy," said the voice softer and sweeter than ever, "I grieve to tell you your wig is more over one eye than ever. And as for your old coat, some fine day, sir, an you chance to walk hereabouts I may possibly trouble to show you how a woman sews a button on!"
Saying which the apparition vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
The Major stood awhile deep-plunged in reverie, then setting the crabtree staff beneath his arm he wended his way slowly towards the house, limping a little more than usual as he always did when much preoccupied.
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