The Amateur Gentleman Part 16

Hereupon Barnabas helped himself to the mustard with grave deliberation, then, leaning back in his chair, he smiled up into the Viscount's glowing eyes as politely and with as engaging an air as might be.

"My Lord," said he gently, "give me leave to remark that he who says so, lies himself most foully." Having said which Barnabas set down the mustard, and bowed.

"Mr. Beverley," said the Viscount, regarding him calm-eyed across the table, "there is a place I know of near by, a very excellent place, being hidden by trees, a smooth, gra.s.sy place--shall we go?"

"Whenever you will, my Lord," said Barnabas, rising.

Forthwith having bowed to each other and put on their hats, they stepped out into the yard, and so walked on side by side, a trifle stiffer and more upright than usual maybe, until they came to a stile.

Here they must needs pause to bow once more, each wishful to give way to the other, and, having duly crossed the stile, they presently came to a place, even as the Viscount had said, being shady with trees, and where a brook ran between steep banks. Here, too, was a small foot-bridge, with hand-rails supported at either end by posts.

Now upon the right-hand post the Viscount set his hat and coat, and upon the left, Barnabas hung his. Then, having rolled up their s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, they bowed once more, and coming to where the gra.s.s was very smooth and level they faced each other with clenched fists.

"Mr. Beverley," said the Viscount, "you will remember I sighed for m.u.f.fles, but, sir, I count this more fortunate, for to my mind there is nothing like bare fists, after all, to try a man's capabilities."

"My Lord," said Barnabas, "you will also remember that when I told you I had boxed daily both with 'Glorious John' and Nathaniel Bell, you doubted my word? I therefore intend to try and convince you as speedily as may be."

"Egad!" exclaimed the Viscount, his blue eyes a-dance, "this is positively more than I had ventured to hope, my dear fell--Ah!

Mr. Beverley, at your service, sir?"

And, after a season, Barnabas spoke, albeit pantingly, and dabbing at his b.l.o.o.d.y mouth the while.

"Sir," said he, "I trust--you are not--incommoded at all?" whereupon the Viscount, coming slowly to his elbow and gazing round about him with an expression of some wonder, made answer, albeit also pantingly and short of breath:

"On the contrary, sir, am vastly--enjoying myself--shall give myself the pleasure--of continuing--just as soon as the ground subsides a little."

Therefore Barnabas, still dabbing at his mouth, stepped forward being minded to aid him to his feet, but ere he could do so, a voice arrested him.

"Stop!" said the voice.

Now glancing round, Barnabas beheld a man, a small man and slender, whose clothes, old and worn, seemed only to accentuate the dignity and high n.o.bility of his face.

Bareheaded he advanced towards them and his hair glistened silver white in the suns.h.i.+ne, though his brows were dark, like the glowing eyes below. Upon his cheek was the dark stain of blood, and on his lips was a smile ineffably sweet and gentle as he came forward, looking from one to the other.

"And pray, sir," inquired the Viscount, sitting cross-legged upon the green, "pray, who might you be?"

"I am an apostle of peace, young sir," answered the stranger, "a teacher of forgiveness, though, doubtless, an unworthy one."

"Peace, sir!" cried the Viscount, "deuce take me!--but you are the most warlike Apostle of Peace that eyes ever beheld; by your looks you might have been fighting the Seven Champions of Christendom, one down, t' other come on--"

"You mean that I am bleeding, sir; indeed, I frequently do, and therein is my joy, for this is the blood of atonement."

"The blood of atonement?" said Barnabas.

"Last night," pursued the stranger in his gentle voice, "I sought to teach the Gospel of Mercy and Universal Forgiveness at a country fair not so very far from here, and they drove me away with sticks and stones; indeed, I fear our rustics are sometimes woefully ignorant, and Ignorance is always cruel. So, to-day, as soon as the stiffness is gone from me, I shall go back to them, sirs, for even Ignorance has ears."

Now whereupon, the Viscount got upon his legs, rather unsteadily, and bowed.

"Sir," said he, "I humbly ask your pardon; surely so brave an apostle should do great works."

"Then," said the stranger, drawing nearer, "if such is your thought, let me see you two clasp hands."

"But, sir," said the Viscount, somewhat taken aback, "indeed we have--scarcely begun--"

"So much the better," returned the teacher of forgiveness with his gentle smile, and laying a hand upon the arm of each.

"But, sir, I went so far as to give this gentleman the lie!" resumed the Viscount.

"Which I went so far as to--return," said Barnabas.

"But surely the matter can be explained?" inquired the stranger.

"Possibly!" nodded the Viscount, "though I generally leave explanations until afterwards."

"Then," said the stranger, glancing from one proud young face to the other, "in this instance, shake hands first. Hate and anger are human attributes, but to forgive is G.o.dlike. Therefore now, forget yourselves and in this thing be G.o.ds. For, young sirs, as it seems to me, it was ordained that you two should be friends.

And you are young and full of great possibilities and friends.h.i.+p is a mighty factor in this hard world, since by friends.h.i.+p comes self-forgctfulness, and no man can do great works unless he forgets Self. So, young sirs, shake hands!"

Now, as they looked upon each other, of a sudden, despite his split lip, Barnabas smiled and, in that same moment, the Viscount held out his hand.

"Beverley," said he, as their fingers gripped, "after your most convincing--shall we say, argument?--if you tell me you have boxed with all and every champion back to Mendoza, Jack Slack, and Broughton, egad! I'll believe you, for you have a devilish striking and forcible way with you at times!" Here the Viscount cherished his bruised ribs with touches of tender inquiry. "Yes," he nodded, "there is a highly commendable thoroughness in your methods, my dear Bev, and I'm free to confess I like you better and better--but--!"

"But?" inquired Barnabas.

"As regards the handkerchief now--?"

"I found it--on a bramble-bush--in a wood," said Barnabas.

"In a wood!"

"In Annersley Wood; I found a lady there also."

"A lady--oh, egad!"

"A very beautiful woman," said Barnabas thoughtfully, "with wonderful yellow hair!"

"The Lady Cleone Meredith!" exclaimed the Viscount, "but in a--wood!"

"She had fallen from her horse."

"How? When? Was she hurt?"

"How, I cannot tell you, but it happened about two hours ago, and her hurt was trifling."

"And you--found her?"

"I also saw her safely out of the wood."

"And you did not know her name?"

"I quite--forgot to ask it," Barnabas admitted, "and I never saw her until this morning."