CHAPTER XIV
IN WHICH I SATISFY MYSELF OF MY COWARDICE
After we had walked thus in silence for may be a mile or more, shespoke.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.
"Why do you follow me?" I retorted.
"Because I must--also it is my whim--and you so wishful to be rid o'me! And why?" she demanded sullenly.
"I prefer solitude."
"That's a pity!"
"Under the circumstances, it is!" I agreed.
"You haven't said what you mean to do wi' me!"
"Nothing!"
"Or where you takes me to?"
"I don't know."
"You must be a fool, young man. Where shall ye stay the night?"
"I don't know this either!"
"I begin to suspect I am!" said I bitterly. "However, I wish you wouldnot call me 'young man.'"
"Why not, young man?"
"Because I resent the appellation."
"Talk plain, young man. You do what?"
"I strongly object to the term 'young man.'"
"But you are a man, ain't you--or something like one? And then you'reyoung--very young, I can see that."
"I am nineteen!"
"And I am eighteen and years older than you! But if you don't like'young man' what must I call ye?"
"Whatever you please," said I stiffly.
"I called ye 'fool' just now, but that won't do, seeing there's s'many about, so I think you shall be 'Tom'--"
"My name is Peregrine!" said I in sudden wrath. For a moment sheviewed me with her direct, half-sullen gaze, then drooping darklashes, laughed with a flash of strong white teeth.
"Hoity-toity! Don't be angry, Joe!" she mocked; and then: "Peregrine,"said she, as if trying the sound of it. "'Peregrine' sounds very finebut then it don't agree wi' your looks--yes, I thinks Tom will suit yebetter--or Sam, p'raps."
To this I deigned no answer but trudged on in moody silence,endeavouring to formulate some method of escape from this outrageouscreature and so absorbed that I paid not the least heed to her foolishchatter until suddenly and most unpleasantly roused by the touch ofher fingers on my ear which she tweaked none too gently. Thisextraordinary familiarity bred in me such indignant disgust that Isprang from her touch to stand dumb and trembling with fury.
"What," cried she, wilfully mistaking these tremors, "did I fright himthen! Lord, how he do tremble! Oh, young man, you be a poor sort, Ithink!"
"Lord God!" she muttered. "D'ye think 'tis your money I want--yourdirty money!"
"What matter my thoughts?" I cried. "Here is my watch; pray take itand let us say good-bye!"
Now here, to my unutterable amazement, she flung herself down, andcrouched against the high, grassy bank, burst into a tempestuousweeping while I stood gaping and infinitely distressed.
"I--I beg your pardon!" said I at last and then, struck by theinadequacy of these trite words, drew a pace nearer. "Oh, pray--praydon't weep!" I pleaded. "If I have hurt you, I crave yourforgiveness!" Here she sobbed but the fiercer. "But indeed--indeed," Istammered, "I thought--that is, I did not think, I--I mean I could notleave you destitute and having no money to bestow, I--"
"Money!" cried she bitterly. "Money!" And here, checking her sobs,added very unreasonably, "I hates you!"
"Please," said I, "oh, pray believe I meant only kindness! I thoughtyou were--"
"A girl o' the road, a creeper o' ditches and byways--well, I'm not, Itell ye--I'm not! And I only followed ye because you were so wishfulto be rid o' me and because you were so silly and young and strange Icouldn't understand ye. But I do now, and I'm done wi' you! Goaway--go away; I hates you more than Bennigo or Jochabed--go away, Ihates you!"
"Blind me, and no wonder!" chuckled a hoarse voice behind me with suchstartling suddenness as for a moment bereft me of speech or motion;then, wheeling about, I came face to face with a rough-clad,villainous-looking man who stood, powerful legs apart, hairy fistsgrasping a short, heavy stick or bludgeon, and evil head out-thrust tostare beyond me at the prostrate form of my companion who had merelylifted her head to watch us through her tumbled hair.
"What d' you want?" I questioned the fellow, breathlessly.
"Never you mind, my chick," he growled, leering upon the girl'sshapeliness with evil eyes. "I know what she wants--and it ain't you,so cut your stick and leave 'er to the man who can comfort a fine,'andsome lass."
Though addressing me, his eyes were for my companion, his loathsomegaze never swerving from her prostrate form; very slowly anddeliberately he began to approach her, and now in the man himself, inhis every look and gesture there was an indescribable beastliness thatturned me physically sick. But none the less, though my soul shrankwithin me, I ventured to grasp him by the sleeve.
"Let her alone--let her alone!" I gasped, dry-mouthed.
At this he turned on me, his evil face convulsed with a look of suchbrutish ferocity as appalled me, yet I only tightened my grip moredesperately and repeated my passionate cry:
"Let her alone, I say; let her alone!"
"Fight him--fight! Don't cling like a woman--stand away--hit himback--fight!"
But though spent and faint with my hurts, I clung the moretenaciously, my face buried in his foul-smelling jacket, but at lasthe wrenched one arm from my desperate embrace; there was a suddenblinding shock that hurled me backward into the road: lying thushelpless, my antagonist leapt to kick the life out of my defencelessbody, but I saw him reel suddenly and whirl about, grasping at an armthat spouted blood between his hairy fingers, while he stared at thegirl crouched for another spring, the knife glittering in her hand.
"Go--go, filthy beast!" she panted. "Go, or I'll be the death o' ye!"And speaking, she began to creep towards me. The fellow gave back,staring from this deadly knife to her fierce eyes and reading therethe truth of her words, he turned and made off, spattering blood as hewent.
Relieved of his evil presence, I closed my eyes awhile feeling myselfvery faint and sick; when I opened them again I saw her standing aboveme, knife in hand, looking down on me with her sombre gaze.
"Kick me if you will!" I groaned.
"Why should I kick you?"
"Because I am a coward!" I mumbled, covering my bruised face. "I ranaway--and left you--"
"Still, I don't think I'll kick you," said she in a soft, grave voice,"because although you runs away like a coward, you comes back again.Though to be sure I didn't need you--"
"But," said I, keeping my face hidden, "I heard you cry out--"
"That was because I wished you to come back, though having my little_churi_, I didn't need you; I've managed worse than him beforenow! However, you did come back--which was more than I expected. ButI'll never call you 'young man' any more because you ain't a real man,are you?"
"God help me!" I groaned, for added to my shame the pain of my hurtswas more than I could well bear, "O God help me!" And now indeed itseemed that in some measure He answered my prayer, for, as I strove torise, the faintness seized me again and I sank to a blessedunconsciousness.