Part 38 (1/2)
Then Bellew, leaning out from his cas.e.m.e.nt, as the first bright beams of the rising sun gilded the top-most leaves of the tree, thus apostrophised the unseen singer:
”I suppose you will be piping away down in your tree there, old fellow, long after Arcadia has faded out of my life. Well, it will be only natural, and perfectly right, of course,--She will be here, and may, perhaps, stop to listen to you. Now if, somehow, you could manage to compose for me a Song of Memory, some evening when I'm gone,--some evening when She happens to be sitting idle, and watching the moon rise over the upland yonder; if, at such a time, you could just manage to remind her of--me, why--I'd thank you. And so,--Good-bye, old fellow!”
Saying which, Bellew turned from the window, and took up a certain bulging, be-strapped portmanteau, while the Black-bird, (having, evidently, hearkened to his request with much grave attention), fell a singing more gloriously than ever.
Meanwhile, Bellew descended the great, wide stair, soft of foot, and cautious of step, yet pausing once to look towards a certain closed door, and so, presently let himself quietly out into the dawn. The dew sparkled in the gra.s.s, it hung in glittering jewels from every leaf, and twig, while, now and then, a s.h.i.+ning drop would fall upon him as he pa.s.sed, like a great tear.
Now, as he reached the orchard, up rose the sun in all his majesty filling the world with the splendour of his coming,--before whose kindly beams the skulking mists and shadows shrank affrighted, and fled utterly away.
This morning, ”King Arthur” wore his grandest robes of state, for his mantle of green was thick sewn with a myriad flaming gems; very different he looked from that dark, shrouded giant who had so lately been Conspirator No. Two. Yet, perhaps for this very reason, Bellew paused to lay a hand upon his mighty, rugged hole, and, doing so, turned and looked back at the House of Dapplemere.
And truly never had the old house seemed so beautiful, so quaint, and peaceful as now. It's every stone and beam had become familiar and, as he looked, seemed to find an individuality of its own, the very lattices seemed to look back at him, like so many wistful eyes.
Therefore George Bellew, American Citizen, millionaire, traveller, explorer, and--LOVER, sighed as he turned away,--sighed as he strode on through the green and golden morning, and resolutely--looked back no more.
CHAPTER XXIX
_Of the moon's message to Small Porges, and how he told it to Bellew--in a whisper_
Bellew walked on at a good pace with his back turned resolutely towards the House of Dapplemere, and thus, as he swung into that narrow, gra.s.sy lane that wound away between trees, he was much surprised to hear a distant hail. Facing sharp about he espied a diminutive figure whose small legs trotted very fast, and whose small fist waved a weather-beaten cap.
Bellew's first impulse was to turn, and run. But Bellew rarely acted on impulse; therefore, he set down the bulging portmanteau, seated himself upon it, and taking out pipe and tobacco, waited for his pursuer to come up.
”Oh Uncle Porges!” panted a voice, ”you did walk so awful fast, an' I called, an' called, but you never heard. An' now, please,--where are you going?”
”Going,” said Bellew, searching through his pockets for a match, ”going, my Porges, why--er--for a stroll, to be sure,--just a walk before breakfast, you know.”
”But then--why have you brought your bag?”
”Bag!” repeated Bellew, stooping down to look at it, ”why--so--I have!”
”Please--why?” persisted Small Porges, suddenly anxious. ”Why did you--bring it?”
”Well, I expect it was to--er--to bear me company. But how is it you are out so very early, my Porges?”
”Why, I couldn't sleep, last night, you know, 'cause I kept on thinking, and thinking 'bout the fortune. So I got up--in the middle of the night, an' dressed myself, an' sat in the big chair by the window, an' looked at the Money Moon. An' I stared at it, an' stared at it till a wonderful thing happened,--an' what do you s'pose?”
”I don't know.”
”Well,--all at once, while I stared up at it, the moon changed itself into a great, big face; but I didn't mind a bit, 'cause it was a very nice sort of face,--rather like a gnome's face, only without the beard, you know. An' while I looked at it, it talked to me, an' it told me a lot of things,--an' that's how I know that you are--going away, 'cause you are, you know,--aren't you?”
”Why, my Porges,” said Bellew, fumbling with his pipe, ”why s.h.i.+pmate, I--since you ask me--I am.”
”Yes, I was 'fraid the moon was right,” said Small Porges, and turned away. But Bellew had seen the stricken look in his eyes, therefore he took Small Porges in the circle of his big arm, and holding him thus, explained to him how that in this great world each of us must walk his appointed way, and that there must, and always will be, partings, but that also there must and always shall be, meetings:
”And so, my Porges, if we have to say 'Good-bye' now,--the sooner we shall meet again,--some day--somewhere.”
But Small Porges only sighed, and shook his head in hopeless dejection.
”Does--she--know you're going,--I mean my Auntie Anthea?”