The Wings of Icarus Part 4

Pooh! thought I, it's nothing, and with a bold, swift step I walked past the fearful spot. No sooner had I pa.s.sed than there came another crackle; I turned and beheld a luminous eye between the branches. Whether I turned pale with fright or not, I cannot tell; but a hand came forth, a foot, then, with considerable difficulty, an entire body; and on the path before me stood my dishevelled friend, covered with green dust and blushes.

"I have no excuse to offer," said he.

I laughed; there was nothing else to do.

"You did startle me," said I, "but I forgive you."

I did not ask him what he was doing in my shrubbery, nor did he offer the least explanation.

"Are you going for a walk?" said he, simply, "and, if so, may I go with you?"

I was glad enough, and we had taken a few steps forward when he suddenly clapped his hands to his pockets.

"I shall have to get into the bush again," he cried, with rueful face; "I must have dropped 'Peer Gynt.'"

And in he scrambled, returning triumphant with an exceedingly shabby book.

We walked a full hour and a half, through the park, through the woods, and through the park again, for he insisted on bringing me back to the little blue door. We talked mostly about "Peer Gynt,"

which, by the way, he is reading in the original. He seems to read every possible language, although he declares he speaks nothing but English. We did not talk at all about ourselves, so I know nothing further about him, save that he lives in a cottage on the heath towards Miltonhoe, with his father and his aunt.

When we parted company, he asked me if I would mind going to see his aunt.

"I believe," said he, "that she ought to call first on you,--at least, she says so,--but that she'll never do. If I landed her at your very door, she'd never find courage to ring the bell."

"Very well," said I; "I'll come to her instead."

And the sprite vanished.

I think I shall go to-morrow, or perhaps next day.

Good-bye, sweet, Your EMILIA.

LETTER XIV.

GRAYSMILL, October 23d.

You are a dear to take such becoming interest in my friend. I have a great deal more to tell you about the lunatic, as you call him, who, by the way, is a great deal saner than either you or I.

Well, I went last Thursday. It took me some time to find the cottage. After much rambling I came upon it in the most secluded part of the Common, in a slight hollow. It is a sort of double cottage, partly thatched, standing in a good-sized garden. I marched through a rickety gate, and made for the house door. The garden is one wild medley of vegetables, fruit-trees, and flowers, luxuriant still, in spite of the late season. I was just bending over a chrysanthemum when I heard a startling "Hulloa!" and found myself accosted by the gardener, who stood, spade in hand, at the opposite end of the gravel walk. He was in his s.h.i.+rtsleeves; his corduroy trousers were more picturesque than respectable; an enormous straw hat, well tanned and chipped by wear, was stuck on the back of his head.

"Hulloa!" he cried again.

I approached and asked, as soon as I could do so without shouting, whether Miss Norton were at home.

"She is at home," replied the man, "and who may you be?"

"Perhaps you will kindly tell her," said I, making up by my civility for his lack of it, "that Emilia Fletcher has come to see her."

Down went the spade, off came the disreputable hat.

"G.o.d bless my soul!" he cried, rubbing the earth off his fingers, "so it's you, is it?"

He seemed doubtful whether his hand were fit to offer me or not, so I relieved him of his anxiety by shaking it warmly.

"Come on indoors," said he; "let's surprise them; Gabriel will be delighted," and he set off at a trot, I after him. He was not a grand runner. I conjectured at once that his health is not good, and that he probably looks ten years older than he really is. His hair is almost white, his face deeply wrinkled.

When we reached the cottage door, he pushed me gently in, and I found myself in what appeared to be a lumber-room. There was a table in the centre covered with bundles, books, and papers, on the summit of which, precariously poised on the lid of a biscuit-tin, stood a jug and some gla.s.ses; piles of books lay on the floor; in one corner stood a stack of brooms, rakes, guns, fis.h.i.+ng-rods, sticks, and umbrellas; and a marvellous medley of coats and hats, baskets, cords, etc., loaded a groaning row of pegs.

"Wait here," said the old man, tilting the only chair in such a way that a Bible, a match-box, and a cocoa-tin filled with nails were safely deposited on the floor. He then popped his head in at three several doors that opened on to the apartment (it was intended, I afterwards discovered, for the hall), and finally disappeared behind one of them which led straight on to a flight of stairs. Suddenly I heard a scuffling, a sound as of some one coming down head foremost, and my friend appeared, book and forelock and all.

"This is nice of you!" he cried; then his father stumped downstairs again, followed by a tall, sweet-faced woman.

"There, Jane," said he, "there she is."

I went up to her; she was, indeed, very shy. "Dear, dear," was all she said; "deary me, think of this, it's very kind of you, I'm sure," squeezing my hand the while as if it had been a sponge.

She led me off through the door to the right, into a comparatively presentable parlour; but her brother took my other hand and pulled me in the opposite direction.

"No, no," he said; "no, no, we'll go into the kitchen and have tea."

"Yes, come," said Gabriel; "I'm hungry, aren't you? Let's go and find something to eat."

So we recrossed the hall and pa.s.sed through a good-sized room which looked like a second-hand bookshop. Books overflowed the shelves, and lay in piles in every available corner,--the floor, the table, the old upright piano, the very chairs, were covered with dusty volumes. Out of this room led the kitchen, which at least looked clean. A rosy little maid was leaving after the day's work as we entered.

"Sit down," said Gabriel's father to me; "sit down, my dear; you shall have some tea in a minute." And he began taking plates down from the dresser. Miss Norton, meanwhile, had disappeared, and presently returned with a loaf, dragging Gabriel after her.

"I can't keep that boy out of the larder," she said plaintively.

Gabriel laughed and fetched the teapot, also a jug and two paper bags. I thought I had better help, too. I discovered some knives in the drawer of the table, and set them out.

"Tea or cocoa?" asked Richard Norton, pointing his finger at tea-pot and jug in turn. I chose cocoa, I can't think why.

"That's lucky," sighed Gabriel; "there's no tea in the bag."

He made the cocoa, Jane Norton cut the bread; at last we sat down. I don't think I ever enjoyed a meal so much in my life. They ate voraciously, and we talked meanwhile in the silliest fas.h.i.+on, about nothing at all, laughing until the tears rolled down our cheeks.

My friend is very funny, but his fun is of the kind that cannot bear repeating; taken away from himself, separated from his personality, it would sound merely foolish. You know what I mean. I sat next Miss Norton during tea. When we had done, Gabriel stood up, chair and all, and came beside me.

"What do you think of us?" he asked. "Aren't we rather nice?"

"Yes, indeed," I replied; "and the funny part of it is that I feel as though I'd known you all my life."

"That's just how I feel with you," said Gabriel, and Richard Norton added,--