Through his window Doctor Syn, lying comfortably in his bed, had heard the passage-of-arms between his best-loved friends and loved them all the more. He had a mind to leap out from the window to the bridge and take her in his arms; but feeling as he did, relaxed and quiet — though his slight wound was painful — his heart was so full for her that all he wished to do was to lie and absorb her into his very soul. A great danger had been overcome, was past, and now he thought he could afford to wait. So there he lay and pondered on the glorious possibilities ahead, weaving yet another pattern into his ill-starred life….
Cicley strolled back through the village. She had no mind to hurry; indeed her mind was so completely his that until she saw him she must be alone; she wanted to recapture that glorious emotion of being one detached from earth, and the spirit guiding her took her to the Tower. She neither saw nor heard the many villagers who greeted her, and her expression was so beautifully remote and yet so shining that no one dared to break it; but after she had gone they whispered delightedly that ‘For sure the Squire’s youngest was in love and they knew who.’ Had they not seen as pretty a picture as they ever hoped to set eyes on, the very night before, when their beloved Vicar had led her out to dance in all her golden youth? So the gossips prattled, discussing every detail of the gay proceedings, from the little old lady’s courage to the merry impersonation of the Shadow. Though when they fell to talking of the second appearance of their idol that night they became venomous. That prowling Mr. Hyde and seek — which name, attributed to Mr. Mipps, attached itself and stuck. So the Sandgate officer of Revenue did not have a very pleasant time in Dymchurch that day, for having decided to put a bold face on it, he stayed to watch, trying to pave his way with pots of ale. But nobody seemed thirsty. Fishermen came into the Ship Inn and greeted each other with, ‘What was your catch today? Did you set a sprat to catch the Scarecrow? What did you get, mackerel?’ He decided not to notice — but even the children in the street ran after him, begging him to join their games of Hyde and seek.
But indeed there was another reason for gaiety, for was it so rumoured that the Dragoons had been recalled to Dover, and that Major Faunce and his men would soon be off to France? For a while they were full of patriotic feeling towards these gallant soldiers, they also secretly rejoiced that now questionable activities would not be hampered. This did not seem to be so secret either, for was not practically the whole village in the Ship Inn celebrating their departure?
Few of the ‘Ship’ staff in the kitchen that morning recognized a smart young officer in a new uniform who put his head in at the window and greeted them, though it did not take them long when they looked more closely. ‘Why, goodness me, if it ain’t that young gentleman what breakfasted with us about a week ago.’ And so it was — Lord Cullingford who had been posted to that regiment, and who had lost no time in reporting to his commanding officer, Major Faunce.
Later that morning, as the Vicar sat in his comfortable library, Mr. Honeyballs announced a visitor. He was sincerely touched and very glad to see Lord Cullingford. The boy had stood before him, straight and fresh, and Syn had laughingly remarked upon the fineness of his uniform — but knew it was not that which gave him this new spirit. He had indeed and upon that moment thanked his Maker for allowing him to have been the humble instrument for its attainment. Then the boy had handed him a packet in repayment and he knew the value of trust where trust was due.
So the mounted regiment made brave show as, with drums and fifes before them they took the Dover Road. But although they understood the cheers they received, they saw no humour in the tune they played, which every British regiment follows when going off to join the wars. But the village seemed to find it funny, for it rocked and whistled and held its sides with laughter and helped to swell that merry tune ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me’.
Yet hardly had this murmur died down when through the village from the other side came marching in a brand new box of soldiers.
Chapter 21
Mr. Mipps Remembers to Forget
Mr. Mipps was highly indignant. He cursed himself for a ‘dawthering old sone of a sea-dog’, and then, correcting himself, said he was a ‘chiddering1 old landlubber’. He might have known the Captain always kept his porthole open. If only he hadn’t been so addle-brained, he might have wheedled Miss Cicely round to the other side of the house where there would only have been Mrs. Honeyballs to overhear, the old Keg-Meg.2 ‘Ridin’ lesson! My baggin’-’ook,’ he muttered to himself. ‘If the Vicar goes on bein’ funny about it, I’ll tell him that “evesdrippers3 never hears no good of theirselfs”.’ But there it was, the Captain had overheard. And here he was on his way up to the Court House with a message: ‘The Vicar will be pleased to take his ridin’ lesson with Miss Cicely this afternoon at half past two.’ Mipps was really worried. The Captain hadn’t had no proper sleep for nights — he’d gone out and got himself pinked. Now Mipps wanted him to rest, and here he was behavin’ like a flirt-man.4
Mipps had reached the Court House in such a dobbin that he’d given his message to the first person he saw. It happened to be Aunt Agatha, who could hardly believe her ears, when having delivered the message he looked straight at her, through her, and past her and muttered, ‘Dawtherin’ old chidderer.’ Miss Agatha felt quite sure he did not mean her, for he pulled his forelock most respectfully and stumped off to the churchyard. Whatever Aunt Agatha felt she most certainly gave the message, for at half past two, most precise, Cicely arrived at the Vicarage on Stardust and leading one of the Squire’s most spirited horses.
Even Mr. Mipps had to admit that Doctor Syn put up a good performance, for he had approached the animal with a fine show of apprehension, patting it timidly and, after many vain attempts, climbing clumsily aboard.
‘Play-actin’,’ Mr. Mipps called it, though as he watched them riding off together he felt so strangely moved that he had to give himself a wink and a nip to get over it.
1 A chidderer is a booky.
2 Gossip.
3 Mr. Mipps’s word for eavesdroppers.
4 Ladies’ man.
So they had ridden through the village where the Vicar made much ado about stopping and starting Red Pepper when greeting his amazed parishioners. His foot slipped many times from the iron and he held the reins as he had seen Mr. Mipps do on Lightning, Cicely watching with very bright eyes this delightful clowning for her benefit. Then they were free of the village and out upon the lonely Marsh, setting their horses towards Lympne Hill. The storm of the night before had exhausted itself with its own fury. The hill shone birght in the pale November sun, yet when it shone on Cicely’s red-gold hair and russet riding-habit, it seemed she warmed the sun to summer. They had not spoken. Indeed they had not looked at one another; but now, the last farm passed, with it went ‘dear old Doctor Syn’.
He straightened in the saddle and took command of the surprised animal. Then turning to her, deliberately took his spectacles from his nose and grinned boyishly — and they were off. The horses were as well matched as they, and neck to neck they galloped deliriously. Over this dyke and that, across broad fields, scattering the sheep, and on they sped, gathering momentum towards the Broad Dyke.
A watcher, who was ‘lookering’ his sheep and loved good horses, watched them, fascinated, clearing this wide, deep canal together in perfect rhythm, horses and riders in unison. Then straight ahead and up the slopes they climbed towards the Roman Camp, above which frowned the perpendicular wall of old Lympne Castle. Here they dismounted and let their horses graze on the lush pasture that centuries ago had been beneath the sea, while they sat down, glowing and happy, on the harbour wall where galleys once were tied, as if each to the other had belonged since those old days, united as they had been on their ride.