"Ah, Peregrine," said Diana in sighing whisper, "O Peregrine--watch
Jessamy--watch!" And as she spoke the big fellow rushed. On he came,
head lowered, mighty fists whirling, to butt and smite, but Jessamy
moved also, slightly, but enough, and as his terrible assailant
blundered past, smote him lightly on the crown with open palm.
"Lord, Tom lad," he admonished in his clear, ringing tones, "that's a
fool's way to set about harming your brother. Give over, Tom, give
over and let's pray instead." Uttering a furious oath, Tom swung about
and smote fiercely with right and left. But ducking the blows, Jessamy
slipped nimbly aside, shaking his head in mild reproof.
"Come, come, Tom," said he; "can't ye see you're as harmless as a
bleatin' lamb or cooin' dove? I've no wish to hurt ye, so let's ha'
done and get on with our prayers--"
"Fight!" roared Tom, beside himself with fury. "Stand up an' fight,
you--" and here followed a torrent of foulest invective and abuse.
"So be it!" said Jessamy. "Though I warned ye, and Lord knows I've
been patient. But if ye will, ye will, so, being a man o' peace, I'll
finish ye comfortable and quick--come on, my poor lad!"
Tom came; with a rush that it seemed nothing might withstand, he
hurled himself upon that quiet figure, mighty shoulders hunched, huge
body quivering, eager for the fray; ensued a quick, brief trample of
feet, the swift play of merciless arms, of mighty fists that smote the
air, and then I saw the upward flash of Jessamy's left, heard the
impact of a dreadful blow, and as Tom's head and shoulders jerked
violently up, I saw the flash of Jessamy's right and the great body of
his assailant, rocked and shaken by these two unerring, terrible
blows, shrank horribly upon itself, rolled a limp and twisted heap in
the dust, and lay still, with Jessamy poised above him, his kindly
features transfigured with a wild and terrible joy.
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