The Amateur Gentleman Part 76

"Yes, and because of his presumption!" said a second voice, at the sound of which Barnabas flushed and started angrily, whereupon the d.u.c.h.ess instantly hooked him by the b.u.t.tonhole again.

"His presumption in what, Mr. Chichester?"

"In his determined pursuit of you."

"Is he in pursuit of me?"

"Cleone--you know he is!"

"But how do you happen to know?"

"From his persecution of poor Ronald, for one thing."

"Persecution, sir?"

"It amounted to that. He found his way to Ronald's wretched lodging, and tempted the poor fellow with his gold,--indeed almost commanded Ronald to allow him to pay off his debts--"

"But Ronald refused, of course?" said Cleone quickly.

"Of course! I was there, you see, and this Beverley is a stranger!"

"A stranger--yes."

"And yet, Cleone, when your unfortunate brother refused his money,--this utter stranger, this Good Samaritan,--actually went behind Ronald's back and offered to buy up his debts! Such a thing might be done by father for son, or brother for brother, but why should any man do so much for an utter stranger--?"

"Either because he is very base, or very--n.o.ble!" said Cleone.

"n.o.ble! I tell you such a thing is quite impossible--unheard of! No man would part with a fortune to benefit a stranger--unless he had a powerful motive!"

"Well?" said Cleone softly.

"Well, Cleone, I happen to know that motive is--yourself!" Here the d.u.c.h.ess, alert as usual, caught Barnabas by the cravat, and only just in time.

"Sit still--hus.h.!.+" she whispered, glancing up into his distorted face, for Mr. Chichester was going on in his soft, deliberate voice:

"Oh, it is all very simple, Cleone, and very clumsy,--thus, see you.

In the guise of Good Samaritan this stranger buys the debts of the brother, trusting to the grat.i.tude of the sister. He knows your pride, Cleone, so he would buy your brother and put you under lasting obligation to himself. The scheme is a little coa.r.s.e, and very clumsy,--but then, he is young."

"And you say--he tried to pay these debts--without Ronald's knowledge?

Are you sure--quite sure?"

"Quite! And I know, also, that when Ronald's creditor refused, he actually offered to double--to treble the sum! But, indeed, you would be cheap at sixty thousand pounds, Cleone!"

"Oh--hateful!" she cried.

"Crude, yes, and very coa.r.s.e, but, as I said before, he is young--what, are you going?"

"Yes--no. Pray find my guardian and bring him to me."

"First, tell me I may see you again, Cleone, before I leave for London?"

"Yes," said Cleone, after a momentary hesitation.

Thereafter came the tread of Mr. Chichester's feet upon the gravel, soft and deliberate, like his voice.

Then Barnabas sighed, a long, bitter sigh, and looking up--saw Cleone standing before him.

"Ah, dear G.o.dmother!" said she lightly, "I hope your Grace was able to hear well?"

"Perfectly, my dear, thank you--every word," nodded the d.u.c.h.ess, "though twice Mr. Beverley nearly spoilt it all. I had to hold him dreadfully tight,--see how I've crumpled his beautiful cravat.

Dear me, how impetuous you are, sir! As for you, Cleone, sit down, my dear,--that's it!--positively I'm proud of you,--kiss me,--I mean about the roses. It was vastly clever! You are myself over again."

"Your Grace honors me!" said Cleone, her eyes demure, but with a dimple at the corner of her red mouth.

"And I congratulate you. I was a great success--in my day. Ah me!

I remember seeing you--an hour after you were born. You were very pink, Cleone, and as bald as--as I am, without my wig. No--pray sit still,--Mr. Beverley isn't looking at you, and he was just as bald, once, I expect--and will be again, I hope. Even at that early age you pouted at me, Cleone, and I liked you for it. You are pouting now, Miss! To-day Mr. Beverley frowns at me, and I like him for it,--besides, he's very handsome when he frowns, don't you think, Cleone?"

"Madam--" began Barnabas, with an angry look.

"Ah! now you're going to quarrel with me,--well there's the Major,--I shall go. If you must quarrel with some one,--try Cleone, she's young, and, I think, a match for you. Oh, Major! Major Piper, pray lend your arm and protection to a poor, old, defenceless woman."

So saying, the d.u.c.h.ess rose, and the Major, bowing gallantly gave her the limb she demanded, and went off with her, 'haw'-ing in his best and most ponderous manner.

Barnabas sat, chin in hand, staring at the ground, half expecting that Cleone would rise and leave him. But no! My lady sat leaning back in her chair, her head carelessly averted, but watching him from the corners of her eyes. A sly look it was, a searching, critical look, that took close heed to all things, as--the fit and excellence of his clothes; the unconscious grace of his att.i.tude; the hair that curled so crisp and dark at his temples; the woeful droop of his lips;--a long, inquisitive look, a look wholly feminine.

Yes, he was certainly handsome, handsomer even than she had thought.

And finding him so, she frowned, and, frowning, spoke:

"So you meant to buy me, sir--as you would a horse or dog?"

"No," said Barnabas, without looking up, and speaking almost humbly.

"It would have been the same thing, sir," she continued, a little more haughtily in consequence. "You would have put upon me an obligation I could never, never have hoped to repay?"

"Yes, I see my error now," said Barnabas, his head sinking lower.

"I acted for the best, but I am a fool, and a clumsy one it seems. I meant only to serve you, to fulfil the mission you gave me, and I blundered--because I am--very ignorant. If you can forgive me, do so."

Now this humility was new in him, and because of this, and because she was a woman, she became straightway more exacting, and questioned him again.

"But why--why did you do it?"

"You asked me to save your brother, and I could see no other way--"

"How so? Please explain."

"I meant to free him from the debt which is crus.h.i.+ng him down and unmanning him."

"But--oh, don't you see--he would still be in debt--to you?"

"I had forgotten that!" sighed Barnabas.