This handsome offer was not received quite as Peregrine had expected. 'Don't talk to me in that nonsensical fashion!' said the Colonel scathingly. 'Do you imagine that you're a rival of mine?'
Peregrine winced, and muttered: 'No. It isn't - I didn't -'
'You are not,' said the Colonel. 'You are merely an unconditioned cub in need of kicking, and the only satisfaction I could enjoy would be to have you under me for just one month!'
Peregrine resumed his study of the window blinds. It seemed that Colonel Audley had not yet finished. He spoke of Harriet, and Peregrine flushed scarlet, and presently blurted out: 'I know, I know! Oh, damn you. that will do! It's all true - every word of it! But I couldn't help it! I -' He stopped, and sank into a chair by the table, and covered his face with his hands.
Audley said nothing, but walked over to the fireplace and stood there, leaning his arms on the mantelpiece. and looking down at the fire irons.
After a few minutes, Peregrine raised his head, and said haltingly: 'You think me a low, despicable fellow and I daresay I am, but on my honour I never meant to - Oh, what's the use of trying to explain?'
'It is quite unnecessary.'
'Yes, but you don't understand! I never realised till it was too late, and even then I didn't think - I mean, I knew it was you she cared for, only when I'm with her I forget everything else! She's so beautiful, Audley!'
'Yes,' said the Colonel. 'I understand all that. The remedy is not to see any more of her.'
'But I shall see her! I must!'
'Oh no, you must not! I imagine you do not expect her to elope with you?'
'No, no! Good God, such an idea never -'
'Very well then. The only thing you can do, Peregrine, since the sight of her is so disastrous, is to leave Brussels.'
A long silence fell. Peregrine said at last, in a dejected tone: 'I suppose it is. But how can I? There's Stuart's ball tomorrow, and the Duke's on the 7th, and -'
'A civil note to Stuart will answer the purpose,' replied the Colonel, with the tremor of a smile. 'Your wife's indisposition is sufficiently well known to provide you with a reasonable excuse. If you need more, you can inform your friends that the recent activities on the frontier have made you realise the propriety of conveying your family back to England.'
'Yes, but - damn it, Charles, I won't dash off at at a moment's notice like that!'
'A packet leaves Ostend on Monday,' said the Colonel. 'You may easily settle your affairs here tomorrow, and be off to Ghent on Sunday. That will enable you to reach Ostend in good time on Monday.'
Peregrine looked at him. 'You mean that I'm not to go to Stuart's tomorrow?'
'Yes, I do.'
'I ought at least to take my leave of Lady Barbara.'
'I will convey your apologies to her.'
Another silence fell. Peregrine got up. 'Very well. You are right, of course. I have been a fool. Only - you must know - how it is when she smiles at one. It - never - oh, well!'
The Colonel walked over to the table, and picked up his hat and gloves. 'Yes, I know. But don't begin to think yourself in love with her, Perry. You're not.'
'No. Of course not,' said Peregrine, trying to speak cheerfully.
The Colonel held out his hand. 'I daresay I sharnt see you tomorrow, so I'll say goodbye now.'
Peregrine gripped his hand. 'Goodbye. You're damned good fellow, Charles, and I'm devilish sorry! i - I wish you very happy. She never thought of me, you know.'
'Thank you! Very handsome of you,' said the Colonel, with a smile. 'My compliments to Lady Taverner, by the way. Don't forget to make my excuse for not going up to take leave of her!'
'No. I'll tell her,' said Peregrine, opening the door and escorting him out into the hall. 'Goodbye! Come safely through the war, won't you?'
'No fear of that! I always take good care of my skin!' replied the Colonel, and raised his hand in a friendly salute, and ran down the steps into the street.
Peregrine went slowly upstairs to the salon. He had probably never been so unhappy in his life. Harriet was seated by the window, with some sewing in her hands. They looked at one another. Peregrine's lip quivered. He did not know what to say to her, or how to reassure her when his own heart felt like lead in his chest. All that came into his head to say was her name, spoken in an uncertain voice.
She saw suddenly that he was looking ashamed and miserable. The cause receded in her mind; it was not forgotten, it would never, perhaps, be forgotten, but it became a thing of secondary importance before the more pressing need to comfort him. She perceived that he was no older than his own son, as much in need of her reassurance as that younger Perry, when he had been naughty, and was sorry. She got up, throwing her stitchery aside, and went to Peregrine, and put her arms round him. 'Yes, Perry. It's no matter. It doesn't signify. I was silly.'
He clasped her to him; his head went down on her shoulder; he whispered: 'I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what -'
'Yes.' She stoked his hair caressingly. The thought of Barbara no longer troubled her. A deeper grief, whichshe would never speak of, was the discovery that Peregrine was not a rock of strength for her to lean on, not a hero to be worshipped, but only a handsome, beloved boy who went swaggering bravely forth, but needed her to pick him up when he fell and hurt himself. She put the knowledge away from her. His abasement made her uncomfortable; even though she knew it to be make-believe he must be set on his pedestal again. She said: 'Yes, we'll go home. But how will we settle our affairs here? Will it not take some time?'
He raised his head. 'No. I'll see to everything. You have only to pack your trunks. There is a packet leaving Ostend on Monday.'
'This house! Our passages! How shall we manage?'
'Don't worry: I'll do it all!
He was climbing back on to the pedestal; they would not speak of this incident again; they would pretend each one of them, that it had not happened. In the end Peregrine would believe that it had not, and Harriette would pretend, even to herself, because there were some truths it was better not to face.
Judith, anxiously awaiting the result of the Colonel's interview with his brother, could scarcely believe him when he told her curtly that the Taverners were leaving Brussels. She exclaimed: 'You don't mean it! I had not though it to be possible! What can you have said constrain him?'
'There was no other course to follow. He was fully sensible of it.'
He spoke rather harshly. She said in a pleading tongue 'Do not be too angry with him, Charles! He is so young.'
'You are mistaken: I am not angry with him. I am excessively sorry for him, poor devil!'
'I am persuaded he will soon recover.'
'Oh yes! But that one so near to me should have caused this unhappiness -' He checked himself.
'If it had not been Lady Barbara it would have been another, I daresay.'
He was silent, and she did not like to pursue the topic. Worth presently came in, followed by the butler with the tea tray, and Judith was glad to see the Colonel rouse himself from a mood of abstraction, and join with all his usual cheerfulness in the ordinary commonplace talk of every day.
He did not go out again that evening, nor, next morning, was his horse saddled for an early ride. The Sky was overcast, and a thin rain was falling. It stopped later, and by noon the sun was shining, but a press of work at Headquarters kept the Colonel busy all the morning.
In the afternoon there was a review in the Allee Verte of the English, Scottish, and Hanoverian troops ,quartered in and about Brussels. These constituted the reserve of the Army, and included the 5th Division, Destined for the command of Sir Thomas Picton. They were crack troops, and the crowd of onlookers, watching them march past, felt that with such men as these to defend them there could be no need for even the most timorous to fly for safety to the coast.
'Some of our best regiments,' said the Duke, as they went past him.
There was good Sir James Kempt's brigade, four proud regiments: the Slashers, the 32nd, the Cameron Highlanders, and the 1st battalion of the 95th riflemen, in their dark green uniforms and their jauntyccaps.
There was fiery Sir Denis Pack, with his choleric eye, and his heavily arched brows, at the head of the
