Peregrine's Progress Part 3

Moved by a sudden impulse I turned from the lattice to the elegant luxuriousness of my bedchamber, its soft carpets, rich hangings and exquisite harmonies of colour; and coming before the cheval mirror I stood to view and examine myself as I had never done hitherto, surveying my reflection not with the accustomed eyes of Peregrine Vereker, but rather with the coldly appraising eyes of a stranger, and beheld this:

A youthful, slender person of no great stature, clothed in garments elegantly unostentatious.

His face grave and of a saturnine cast--but the features fairly regular.

His complexion sallow--but clear and without blemish.

His hair rather too long--but dark and crisp-curled.

His brow a little too prominent--but high and broad.

His eyes dark and soft--but well-opened and direct.

His nose a little too short to please me--but otherwise well-shaped.

His mouth too tender in its curves--but the lips close and firm.

His chin too smoothly rounded, at a glance--but when set, looks determined enough.

His whole aspect not altogether unpleasing, though I yearned mightily to see him a few inches taller.

Thus then I took dispa.s.sionate regard to, and here as dispa.s.sionately set down, my outer being; as to my inner, that shall appear, I hope, as this history progresses.

I was yet engaged on this most critical examination of my person when I was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the flagged terrace beneath my open window and the voices of my two uncles as they pa.s.sed slowly to and fro, each word of their conversation very plain to hear upon the warm, still air. Honour should have compelled me to close my ears or the lattice; had I done so, how different might this history have been, how utterly different my career. As it was, attracted by the sound of my own name, I turned from contemplation of my person and, coming to the window, leaned out again.

"Poor Peregrine," said my uncle George for the second time.

"Why the pity, George? Curse and confound it, wherefore the pity? Our youth is a perfect a.s.s, an infernal young fish, a puppy-dog--pah!"

"Aye, but," quoth my uncle George (and I could distinguish the faint jingle of his spurs), "we roasted him devilishly to-night between us, Jervas, and never a word out o' the lad--"

"Egad, Julia did the talking for him--"

"Ha, yes--dooce take me, she did so!" exclaimed uncle George. "What an amazingly magnificent creature she is--"

"And did ye mark our youth's cool insolence, his disdainful airs--the c.o.c.k of his supercilious nose--curst young puppy!"

"Most glorious eyes in Christendom," continued my uncle George, "always make me feel so dooced--er--so curst humble--no, humble's not quite the word; what I do mean is--"

"Fatuous, George?" suggested Uncle Jervas a trifle impatiently.

"Unworthy--yes, unworthy and er--altogether dooced, d'ye see--her whole life one of exemplary self-sacrifice and so forth, d'ye see, Jervas--"

"Exactly, George! Julia will never marry, we know, while she has this precious youth to pet and pamper and cherish--"

"Instead of us, Jervas!"

"Us? George, don't be a fool! She couldn't wed us both, man!"

"Why, no!" sighed uncle George. "She'd ha' to be content wi' one of us, to be sure, and that one would be--"

"Myself, George!"

"Aye!" quoth uncle George, sighing more gustily than ever. "Begad, I think it would, Jervas."

"Though, mark me, George, I have sometimes thought she has the preposterous lack of judgment to prefer you."

"No--did you though!" exclaimed my uncle George, spurs jingling again.

"B'gad, and did you though--dooce take me!"

"Aye, George, I did, but only very occasionally. Of course, were she free of this incubus Peregrine, free to live for her own happiness instead of his, I should have her wedded and wifed while you were thinking about it."

"Aye," sighed my uncle George, "you were always such an infernal dasher--"

"As it is, the boy will grow into a priggish, self-satisfied do-nothing, and she into an adoring, solitary old woman--"

"Julia! An old woman! Good G.o.d! Hush, Jervas--it sounds dooced indecent!"

"But true, George, devilish true! Here's Julia must grow into a crotchety old female, myself into a solitary, embittered recluse, and you into a lonely, doddering old curmudgeon--and all for sake of this d.a.m.ned lad--"

At this, stirred by sudden impulse, I thrust my head out of the window and hemmed loudly, whereupon they halted very suddenly and stood staring up at me, their surprised looks plain to see by reason of the brilliant moon.

"Pardon me, my dear uncles," said I, bowing to them as well as I might, "pardon me, but I venture to think not--"

"Now 'pon me everlasting soul!" exclaimed my uncle Jervas, fumbling for his eyegla.s.s. "What does the lad mean?"

"With your kind attention, he will come down and explain," said I, and clambering through the cas.e.m.e.nt, I descended forthwith, hand over hand, by means of the ivy stems that grew very thick and strong hereabouts.

Reaching the terrace, I paused to brush the dust from knee and elbow while my uncle Jervas, lounging against the bal.u.s.trade, viewed me languidly through his gla.s.s, and uncle George stared at me very round of eye and groped at his close-trimmed whisker.

"Sirs," said I, glancing from one to other, "I regret that I should appear to you as a 'fish,' a 'puppy' and a 'self-satisfied do-nothing,' but I utterly refuse to be considered either an 'incubus'

or a 'd.a.m.ned lad'!"

"Oh, the dooce!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed uncle George.

"To the which end," I proceeded, "I propose to remove myself for a while--let us say for six months or thereabouts--on a condition."

"Remove yourself, nephew?" repeated uncle Jervas, peering at me a little more narrowly. "Pray where?"

"Anywhere, sir. I shall follow the wind, tramp the roads, consort with all and sundry, open the book of Life and endeavour to learn of man by man himself."

"Very fine!" said my uncle Jervas,--"and d.a.m.ned foolis.h.!.+"

"In a word," I continued, "I propose to follow your very excellent advice, Uncle Jervas, and go out into the world to find my manhood if I can! That was your phrase, I think?"

"Ah, and when, may I ask?"

"At once, sir. But, as I said before--on a condition."