The Amateur Gentleman Part 110

Now at this moment, even as he sank on his knees, Barnabas again heard a cry, but nearer now and with the rustle of flying draperies, and, glancing up, saw Cleone running towards them.

"Cleone!" he cried, and sprang to his feet.

"You--struck him!" she panted.

"I--yes, I--had to! But indeed he isn't much hurt--" But Cleone was down upon her knees, had lifted Barrymaine's head to her bosom and was wiping the blood from his pale face with her handkerchief.

"Cleone," said Barnabas, humbly, "I--indeed I--couldn't help it. Oh, Cleone--look up!" Yet, while he spoke, there came a rustling of leaves near by and glancing thither, he saw Mr. Chichester surveying them, smiling and debonair, and, striding forward, Barnabas confronted him with scowling brow and fierce, menacing eyes.

"Rogue!" said he, his lips curling, "Rascal!"

"Ah!" nodded Mr. Chichester gently, "you have a pistol there, I see!"

"Your despicable villainy is known!" said Barnabas. "Ha!--smile if you will, but while you knelt, pistol in hand, in the barn there, had you troubled to look in the loft above your head you might have murdered me, and none the wiser. As it is, I am alive, to strip you of your heritage, and you still owe me twenty thousand guineas. Pah!

keep them to help you from the country, for I swear you shall be hounded from every club in London; men shall know you for what you are. Now go, before you tempt me to strangle you for a nauseous beast.

Go, I say!"

Smiling still, but with a devil looking from his narrowed eyes, Mr. Chichester slowly viewed Barnabas from head to foot, and, turning, strolled away, swinging his ta.s.selled walking cane as he went, with Barnabas close behind him, pistol in hand, even as they had once walked months before.

Now at this moment it was that Cleone, yet kneeling beside Barrymaine, chanced to espy a crumpled piece of paper that lay within a yard of her, and thus, half unwitingly, she reached out and took it up, glanced at it with vague eyes, then started, and knitting her black brows, read these words:

My Dear Barnabas,--The beast has discovered me.

I thought I only scorned him, but now I know I fear him, too. So, in my dread, I turn to you. Yes, I will go now-- anywhere you wish. Fear has made me humble, and I accept your offer. Oh, take me away--hide me, anywhere, so shall I always be

Your grateful,

CLEMENCY.

Thus, in a while, when Barrymaine opened his eyes it was to see Cleone kneeling beside him with bent head, and with both hands clasped down upon her bosom, fierce hands that clenched a crumpled paper between them. At first he thought she was weeping, but, when she turned towards him, he saw that her eyes were tearless and very bright, and that on either cheek burned a vivid patch of color.

"Oh, Ronald!" she sighed, her lips quivering suddenly, "I--am glad you are better--but--oh, my dear, I wish I--were dead!"

"There, there, Clo!" he muttered, patting her stooping shoulder, "I f-frightened you, I suppose. But I'm all right now, dear. W-where's Chichester?"

"I--don't know, Ronald."

"But you, Cleone? You came here to m-meet this--this Beverley?"

"Yes, Ronald."

"D'you know w-what he is? D'you know he's a publican's son?--a vile, low fellow masquerading as a g-gentleman? Yes, he's a p-publican's son, I tell you!" he repeated, seeing how she shrank at this.

"And you s-stoop to such as he--s-stoop to meet him in s-such a place as this! So I came to save you f-from yourself!"

"Did you, Ronald?"

"Yes--but oh, Cleone, you don't love the fellow, do you?"

"I think I--hate him, Ronald."

"Then you won't m-meet him again?"

"No, Ronald."

"And you'll try to be a little kinder--to C-Chichester?" Cleone s.h.i.+vered and rose to her feet.

"Come!" said she, her hands once more clasped upon her bosom, "it grows late, I must go."

"Yes. D-devilish depressing place this! G-give me your arm, Clo."

But as they turned to go, the bushes parted, and Barnabas appeared.

"Cleone!" he exclaimed.

"I--I'm going home!" she said, not looking at him.

"Then I will come with you,--if I may?"

"I had rather go--alone--with my brother."

"So pray s-stand aside, sir!" said Barrymaine haughtily through his swollen lips, staggering a little despite Cleone's arm.

"Sir," said Barnabas pleadingly, "I struck you a while ago, but it was the only way to save you from--a greater evil, as you know--"

"He means I threatened to s-shoot him, Clo--so I did, but it was for your sake, to sh-s.h.i.+eld you from--persecution as a brother should."

"Cleone," said Barnabas, ignoring Barrymaine altogether, "if there is any one in this world who should know me, and what manner of man I am, surely it is you--"

"Yes, she knows you--b-better than you think, she knows you for a publican's son, first of all--"

"May I come with you, Cleone?"

"No, sir, n-not while I'm here. Cleone, you go with him, or m-me, so--choose!"

"Oh, Ronald, take me home!" she breathed.

So Barrymaine drew her arm through his and, turning his back on Barnabas, led her away. But, when they had gone a little distance, he frowned suddenly and came striding after them.

"Cleone," said he, "why are you so strange to me,--what is it, --speak to me."

But Cleone was dumb, and walked on beside Ronald Barrymaine with head averted, and so with never a backward glance, was presently lost to sight among the leaves.

Long after they had gone, Barnabas stood there, his head bowed, while the shadows deepened about him, dark and darker. Then all at once he sighed again and, lifting his head, glanced about him; and because of the desolation of the place, he s.h.i.+vered; and because of the new, sharp pain that gripped him, he uttered a bitter curse, and so, becoming aware of the pistol he yet grasped, he flung it far from him and strode away through the deepening gloom.

On he went, heeding only the tumult of sorrow and anger that surged within him. And so, betimes, reached the "Oak and Ivy" inn, where, finding Peterby and the phaeton already gone, according to his instructions, he hired post-horses and galloped away for London.

Now, as he went, though the evening was fine, it seemed to him that high overhead was a shadow that followed and kept pace with him, growing dark and ever darker; and thus as he rode he kept his gaze upon this menacing shadow.

As for my lady, she, securely locked within the sanctuary of her chamber, took pen and paper and wrote these words:

"You have destroyed my faith, and with that all else. Farewell."