Love found me in the dawn and this morning Diana promised
to be my--wife. God make me worthy!"
"Amen, lad, amen!" said the Tinker.
And then from the shade of the willows that bordered the stream limped
the small and shabby yet stately form of Lord Wyvelstoke.
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE NOBLE ART OF ORGAN-PLAYING
Catching sight of me as I hurried towards him, Lord Wyvelstoke
advanced, a vigorous man despite his lameness and silvery hair.
"Peregrine--who was it?" he enquired, slipping his hand within my arm
and glancing round the glade. "Who was it sang so divinely--can it be,
is it--our Diana? But of course it is--"
"Yes, sir," said I, wondering at his eagerness.
"She has a peerless, a wonderful voice, but more--she sings with that
divine intuition that is genius. I must speak with her--meantime, pray
present your friend."
"This, sir, is my good and kind friend, Jeremy Jarvis; Jerry, his
Lordship, the Earl of Wyvelstoke."
The Earl bowed to the Tinker with his usual grave courtesy, and the
Tinker (albeit a little disquieted) knuckled sooty eyebrow and bobbed
tousled head to the Earl, humbly respectful yet with a simple dignity
all his own.
"You seem very happily situated here," said his lordship, sweeping the
shady dingle with his keen gaze.
"Why, as to that, sir--my lord," said Jeremy with unwonted diffidence,
"I fear we'm a-trespassing on your land, but my friend Todd--Jessamy
assured me--"
"Rest assured, friend Jarvis! None of my keepers shall disturb you--"
"Peregrine--O Jerry, dinner! Come while it's hot and come quick!"
called Diana from those boskages that screened our little camp.
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