She answered swiftly: ‘I cannot, nor do I desire to stop. My thoughts are his, and if he should command, my life.’ She knelt up straight, which brought her closer to him, and putting one hand upon his arm which rested on the corner of the settle, she looked down at it, toying with the buttons on his coat and teasing said: ‘I shall have no one else if he does not love me. I shall become…’ Here she put her head on one side and thought deeply. ‘Yes,’ she announced, ‘I shall become the spinster of the parish, and devote myself entirely to good works. Maybe I should commence with you. ’Tis true you have no one to look after you.’ She looked down again at that intriguing arm.
‘Why there, what did I say? Your sleeve, you have a button loose. My first good deed shall be to sew it on for you.’
He gently moved the inquisitive hand and rose slowly to his feet, the look of fierce concentration on his face changing to one of calm purpose as he moved away from her. She remained on her knees, sitting back on the heels of her slim riding-boots, fearful yet expectant. Making no haste, he drew off his coat and let it fall. Then deliberately rolling up the right sleeve of his frilled shirt, he moved close to her and gently placed his forearm over the shoulder of the kneeling girl, as though forcing her to look at the tattooed mark upon it. She did not turn her head, but with a caressing movement clasped the incriminating arm to her, and in a small voice asked for needle and thread with which to sew on the offending button. His deep voice was husky as he said, ‘Child, you know that this can never be.’
‘I have always known that it must be,’ she answered, continuing casually, ‘’Twill only be a moment if you have a good spool of black.’
‘But, Cicely, do you realize what this mark is?’
‘’Tis but the picture of a man walking the plank with a shark beneath. I saw it first in Paris upon the arm of a most notorious character,’ and continued just as casually, ‘’Twas foolish of me to leave my thimble behind.’
He fought desperately, reasoning with her against himself, that the tattoo upon his arm was the mark of the pirate Clegg, who should have hung in chains on Execution Dock; that it was the mark of a hunted law-breaker, the mark of a man who ruled the Marsh by fear and with his cunning. But again to this she answered simply:
‘’Tis also the mark of that saintly man the Vicar of Dymchurch, revered by all that know him, and dearly loved by Cicely Cobtree, spinster of the parish, who must remember to carry her chatelaine of pins and thread.’
Though knowing he had already lost, he made a last attempt to save her from what he knew must be inevitable should he allow himself such happiness, so, without mercy, he accused his threefold personality — pirate, smuggler, parson — of being an unholy trinity — and of all the three that saintly parson was but the worst of hypocrites, mouthing his smug sermons and hiding black deeds behind the pillars of the Church. Then turning to her he demanded passionately, ‘How can you love a coward?’
She rose to her feet and stood before him, and fiercely she challenged with a passion equal to his own: ‘Coward in one thing only: you will not say what I await to hear.’
His despair was triumphant as he laughed back at her glorious audacity. ‘Then not even you shall call me a coward,’ he cried, and she was in his arms.
After a little while she sought the answer to another riddle. ‘And how much did the Scarecrow pay?’
‘Eh, child?’ For a moment, and to tease her, he became again the kindly Vicar, then holding her from him at arms’ length he said: ‘All the wealth that was Clegg’s when he sailed the Caribbean would not suffice to pay those tithes. Does that satisfy you?’ She did not answer, but stood content and gazing at him. ‘No?’ But still she did not speak, so he went on: ‘Would you have me sail up London River and loot the Crown Jewels to lay at your feet?’
‘Why, Captain Clegg, should I then be richer than I am?’ she asked. ‘There is now but one thing that I desire.’ He, in his turn, stood silent, looking at her, as she pleaded with a feigned sincerity: ‘Dear, kind old Doctor Syn, pray stop preaching your horrid sermons against my beloved Scarecrow.’
He laughed again and drew her swiftly to him. For Christopher Syn had remembered to forget the pirate’s slogan — no petticoats aboard.
And so it was that the next morning Doctor Syn, happening to perceive from his study window a last remaining rose upon his favourite tree, went out to pick it, and there upon the frosty ground beneath this lovely challenge to the winter was a pair of gauntlet gloves.
Chapter 13
In which Mr. Mipps Discovers an Old Friend and Doctor Syn Discovers a Secret
Doctor Syn smiled and promised Cicely that although he could not stop preaching against this rascal, he would at least modify his righteous rage, adding in a more serious tone that perhaps in the near future it might not be necessary to preach upon that vein at all, since already it was evident that the Scarecrow was showing signs of repentance, and that he, as shepherd of the flock, hoped that he might be able to lead one more stray lamb into the fold. So for the third time that evening Cicely crossed the Glebe field, but this time in company with Doctor Syn. Upon reaching the Court House, she was loth to part with him so soon, and entreated him to come in, urging that having found him she never wanted to let him go, and she also knew by the look in Papa’s eye that he too was in need of moral support.
To this Doctor Syn replied that the house would sure to be in great commotion over their sudden return, and that her mother and Aunt Agatha would want to welcome their stray lambs home, in true feminine manner. Cicely answered, smiling somewhat ruefully, that in truth she knew wwell what that meant: a deal of fussings, scoldings, twitterings and floods of tears, so that she, in trying to be a dutiful daughter, would be hard put to it to squeeze out one, so happy was she, and since by his presence their enjoyment at a thorough good cry at the family reunion would have to be somewhat modified, pray, would he not come in and help her out? But he was still firm and taking her in his arms kissed her tenderly good night, vowing that he would visit them the next morning. As a final farewell Cicely whispered: ‘’Tis very sad that poor old Doctor Syn is in his dotage. I do hope the dear old gentleman will not be jealous of his younger brother, for in truth I am fathoms deep in love with that — unholy trinity.’
And she was gone, laughing back at him as she ran lightly across the flagstoned hall. Stopping at the steps, she turned, jerking her head in the direction of the drawing-room upstairs, whence came a babble of excited voices and a sound that meant only one thing — Maria was thoroughly enjoying herself again. With a gesture of comical despair, and an expression which said, ‘There now, what did I tell you?’ she allowed her happiness to express itself in the most curious, charming manner. Delicately lifting the skirt of her riding-habit, as if about to sweep him a curtsey, she suddenly executed a quaint, high-spirited little jig. Then, with a further gesture of humourous resignation, she waved to him and stumped off up the stairs.
He had watched her, enchanted, and stood for a while after she had gone, smiling at the thought of her lovely youthful grace, and he made a vow that he would sacrifice all rather than hurt a hair of her head.
Closing the front door, he looked up to the stars, stretching himself as though to reach and thank them, and breathed a vast deep sigh.
Then he strode off down the village street. So light was his step, so high his head and heart, that had any man seen him they might well have thought, ‘Here must be the younger brother of the man we know,’ and, indeed, he was not following Doctor Syn’s usual habit of returning to the Vicarage before setting out upon one of his nightly expeditions. He certainly was not in the mood, this night, for the joggings of his churchyard pony. He laughed alooud when thinking again of her audacious offer to teach him to ride, and a great longing seized him to let the world know who he was and the things that he could do. And thus exalted, he left the village and strode out across the Marsh.