Jeffery Farnol

“ In the porch sat Job, with Old Amos and the rest, still in solemn conclave over pipes and ale, who watched with gloomy brows as I swung myself up beside the Ancient in the cart.
"A fule's journey!" remarked Old Amos sententiously, with a wave of his pipe; "a fule's journey!"
The Ancient cast an observing eye up at the cloudless sky, and also nodded solemnly.
"Theer be some fules in this world, Peter, as mixes up rabbits wi' pa'tridges, and honest men—like Jarge—wi' thieves, an' lazy waggabones—like Job—but we'll show 'em, Peter, we'll show 'em—dang 'em! Drive on, Simon, my bye!" ”

“ Oh, Peter—I was once, very long ago it seems, Sophia Charmian Sefton, but I am now, and always was, Your Humble Person,
"CHARMIAN." The letter fell from my fingers, and I remained staring before me so long that Sir Richard came and laid his hand on my shoulder.
"Oh, boy!" said he, very tenderly; "she has told me all the story, and I think, Peter, I think it is given to very few men to win the love of such a woman as this."
"God knows it!" said I.
"And to have married one so very noble and high in all things—you should be very proud, Peter."
"I am," said I; "oh, I am, sir." ”

“ And being come, at length, to the Hollow, Charmian must needs pause beside the pool among the willows, to view herself in the pellucid water. And in this mirror our eyes met, and lo! of a sudden, her lashes drooped, and she turned her head aside.
"Don't, Peter!" she whispered; "don't look at me so."
"How may I help it when you are so beautiful?"
And, because of my eyes, she would have fled from me, but I caught her in my arms, and there, amid the leaves, despite the jealous babble of the brook, for the second time in my life, her lips met mine. ”

“ Prue loves a stronger, a better man than I. And she has wept over him, George, and prayed over him, such tears and prayers as surely might win the blackest soul to heaven, and has said that she would marry that man—ah! even if he came back with fetter-marks upon him—even then she would marry him—if he would only ask her."
"Oh, Peter!" cried George, seizing my shoulders in a mighty grip and looking into my eyes with tears in his own, "oh, man, Peter—you as knocked me down an' as I love for it—be this true?" ”

“ Charmian stole her arms about my neck.
"I think it is Simon," said I uneasily; "what can have brought him?
And he will never venture down into the Hollow on account of the ghost;
I must go and see what he wants."
"Yes, Peter," she murmured, but the clasp of her arms tightened.
"What is it?" said I, looking into her troubled eyes. "Charmian, you are trembling!—what is it?"
"I don't know—but oh, Peter! I feel as if a shadow—a black and awful shadow were creeping upon us hiding—us from each other. I am very foolish, aren't I? and this our wedding-day!"
"Peter! Pe-ter!" ”

“ Finding nothing to say in answer to this, I smoked my negro-head pipe and stared at the moon, which was looking down at us through a maze of tree-trunks and branches.
"Referring to horseshoes," said Charmian at last, "are you content to be a blacksmith all your days?"
"Yes, I think I am."
"Were you never ambitious, then?"
"Ambition is like rain, breaking itself upon what it falls on—at least, so Bacon says, and—"
"Oh, bother Bacon! Were you never ambitious, Peter?"
"I was a great dreamer."
"A dreamer!" she exclaimed with fine scorn; "are dreamers ever ambitious?" ”

“ Indeed it waxed most eloquent upon this theme, caustic, if you will, but with a ripple, between whiles, like the deep-throated chuckle of the wise old philosopher it was.
"Go to!" chuckled the brook. "Oh, heavy-footed, heavy-sighing Human—go to! It is written that Man was given dominion over birds and beasts and fishes, and all things made, yet how doth Man, in all his pride, compare with even a little mountain? And, as to birds and beasts and fishes, they provide for themselves, day in and day out, while Man doth starve and famish! To what end is Man born but to work, beget his kind, and die? ”

“ My sleep, too, was often broken and troubled with wild dreams, so that bed became a place of horror, and, rising, I would sit before the empty hearth, a candle guttering at my elbow, and think of Charmian until I would fancy I heard the rustle of her garments behind me, and start up, trembling and breathless; at such times the tap of a blown leaf against the lattice would fill me with a fever of hope and expectation. Often and often her soft laugh stole to me in the gurgle of the brook, and she would call to me in the deep night silences in a voice very sweet, and faint, and far away. ”

“ In the opposite wall was a window, the glass of which was long since gone, through which I could see a square of sky, and the glittering belt of Orion. My eyes wandered from this to the glow of the fire many times, but gradually my head grew heavier and heavier, until, at length, the stars became confused with the winking sparks upon the hearth, and the last that I remember was that the crackle of the fire sounded strangely like the voice of the Ancient croaking:
"A hijious thing, Peter, a hijious thing!" ”

“ And you—love her?—wait, Peter—as much as ever you loved Charmian Brown?"
"Yes," said I; "yes—"
"And—nearly as much as—your dream woman?"
"More—much more, because you are the embodiment of all my dreams—you always will be Charmian. Because I honor you for your intellect; and worship you for your gentleness, and spotless purity; and love you with all my strength for your warm, sweet womanhood; and because you are so strong, and beautiful, and proud—"
"And because, Peter, because I am—just—your loving—Humble Person." ”

“ Now, when she spoke thus, I laid down my pipe and stared, but, before I could get my breath, she began again, with curling lip and lashes that drooped disdainfully.
"I quite understand that there can be no woman worthy of Mr. Peter Vibart—she whom he would honor with marriage must be specially created for him! Ah! but some day a woman—a real, live woman—will come into his life, and the touch of her hand, the glance of her eyes, the warmth of her breath, will dispel this poor, flaccid, misty creature of his imagination, who will fade and fade, and vanish into nothingness. ”

“ To sit in the sunshine and watch the Ancient, pipe in mouth, to hearken to his animadversions upon Life, and Death, and Humanity, is better than the cynical wit of Rochefoucauld, or a page out of honest old Montaigne.
To see the proud poise of sweet Prue's averted head, and the tender look in her eyes when George is near, and the surge of the mighty chest and the tremble of the strong man's hand at the sound of her light footfall, is more enthralling than any written romance, old or new. ”

“ I murmured.
"Being a philosopher, Peter, and too much engrossed in your thoughts?"
"I was certainly thinking."
"Of yourself!"
"Yes—"
"You are a great egoist, aren't you, Peter?"
"Am I, Charmian?"
"Who but an egoist could stand with his mind so full of himself and his own concerns as to be oblivious to thunder and lightning, and not know that he is miserably clammy and wet?"
"I thought of others besides myself."
"But only in connection with yourself; everything you have ever read or seen you apply to yourself, to make that self more worthy in Mr. Vibart's eyes. Is this worthy of Peter Vibart? ”

“ And turning, she fled through the doorway and across the road, swift and graceful as any bird, and presently was back again, with something hidden in her apron.
"He be a strong man, and terrible in his wrath," said she, "and I—love him, but—take this wi' you, and if it—must be—use it, because I do love him." Now, as she said this, she drew from her apron that same brass-bound pistol that had served me so well against the "ghost" and thrust it into my hand. "Take it, Mr. Peter—take it, but—oh!"—here a great sob choked her voice—"don't—don't use it—if—if you can help it, for my sake." ”

“ And, as we ate, sometimes talking and sometimes laughing (though rarely; one seldom laughs in the wilderness) , our hands would stray to meet each other across the table, and eye would answer eye, while, in the silence, the brook would lift its voice to chuckle throaty chuckles and outlandish witticisms, such as could only be expected from an old reprobate who had grown so in years, and had seen so very much of life. At such times Charmian's cheeks would flush and her lashes droop—as though (indeed) she were versed in the language of brooks. ”

“ Indeed, to my mind, there is nothing more delightful than to walk upon a country road, beneath a midsummer moon, when there is no sound to break the stillness, save, perhaps, the murmur of wind in trees, or the throbbing melody of some hidden brook. At such times the world of every day—the world of Things Material, the hard, hard world of Common-sense—seems to vanish quite, and we walk within the fair haven of our dreams, where Imagination meets, and kisses us upon the brow. ”

“ Surely a man might seek very far ere he found such another maid as this brown-cheeked, black-eyed village beauty.
"Good evening, Mr. Peter!" said she, dropping me a curtesy with a grace that could not have been surpassed by any duchess in the land; but, as for poor George, she did not even notice him, neither did he raise his curly head nor glance toward her.
"You come just when you are most needed, Prudence," said I, relieving her of the heavy basket, "for here be two hungry men."
"Three!" broke in the Ancient; "so 'ungry as a lion, I be!" ”

“ For upon the hearth a fire burned with a dim, red glow that filled the place with shadows, and the shadows were very deep.
"Charmian!" said I, "oh, Charmian, are you there—have I guessed right?" I heard a rustle close beside me, and, in the gloom, came a hand to meet and clasp my own; wherefore I stooped and kissed those slender fingers, drawing her into the fireglow; and her eyes were hidden by their lashes, and the glow of the fire seemed reflected in her cheeks.
"The candles were so—bright, Peter," she whispered. ”

“ Had I possessed the genius of a Praxiteles I might have given to the world a masterpiece of beauty to replace his vanished Venus of Cnidus; but, as it happened, I was only a humble blacksmith, and she a fair woman who sighed, and nibbled her pen, and sighed again.
"What is it, Charmian?"
"Compound addition, Peter, and I hate figures. I detest, loathe, and abominate them—especially when they won't balance!"
"Then never mind them," said I.
"Never mind them, indeed—the idea, Sir! How can I help minding them when living costs so much and we so poor?"
"Are we?" ”

“ But, sighing, he shook his head; quoth he:
"O Blind One!—Glory is but a name, Learning but a yearning emptiness, and whither leadeth Ambition? Man is a mote dancing in a sun-ray—the world, a speck hanging in space. All things vanish and pass utterly away save only True-love, and that abideth everlastingly; 'tis sweeter than Life, and stronger than Death, and reacheth up beyond the stars; and thus it is I pray you tell me—where is she?"
"She?"
"She whom ye love?"
"I love no woman," said I.
"Liar!" cried he, in a terrible voice, and the voice was the voice of
Black George. ”

“ I am Sir Peregrine Beverley of Burnham Hall, very much at your service. Jasper—dead! A knight banneret of Kent, and Justice of the Peace! How utterly preposterous it all sounds! But to-day I begin life anew, ah, yes, a new life, a new life! To-day all things are possible again! The fool has learned wisdom, and, I hope, become a man. But come," said he in a more natural tone, "let us get back to our ditch, and, while you tell me the particulars, if you don't object I should much like to try a whiff at that pipe of yours." ”

“ In the corner, perched securely out of reach of stray sparks, sits the Ancient, snuff-box in hand as usual.
To my mind, a forge is at its best by night, for, in the red, fiery glow, the blackened walls, the shining anvil, and the smith himself, bare-armed and bare of chest, are all magically transfigured, while, in the hush of night, the drone of the bellows sounds more impressive, the stroke of the hammers more sonorous and musical, and the flying sparks mark plainly their individual courses, ere they vanish. ”

“ To lie awake, staring wide-eyed into a crowding darkness wherein move terrors unimagined; to bury our throbbing temples in pillows of fire; to roll and toss until the soul within us cries out in agony, and we reach out frantic hands into a void that mocks us by the contrast of its deep and awful quiet. At such times fair Reason runs affrighted to hide herself, and foaming Madness fills her throne; at such times our everyday sorrows, howsoever small and petty they be, grow and magnify themselves until they overflow the night, filling the universe above and around us ”

“ Do you think it is so easy to remain here without you—to lose you so soon—so very soon? If I only loved you a little less! Ah! don't you see—before the week is out, my description will be all over England; we should be caught, and you would have to stand beside me in a court of justice, and face the shame of it—"
"Dear love!—it would be my pride—my pride, Peter, to face them all—to clasp this dear hand in mine—"
"Never!" I cried, clenching my fists; "never! You must leave me; no one must know Charmian Brown ever existed—you must go!" ”

“ Ah, Peter! some maid will see the lovelight aflame in 'em some day, an' droop 'er 'ead an' blush an' tremble—for she'll know, Peter, she'll know; maids was made to be loved, Peter—"
"But, Ancient, I am not the kind of man women would be attracted by. I love books and solitude, and am called a—pedant! and, besides, I am not of a loving sort—"
"Some men, Peter, falls in love as easy as they falls out; it comes to some soft an' quiet—like the dawn of a summer's day, Peter; but to others it comes like a gert an' tur'ble storm—oh, that it do! ”