The Amateur Gentleman Part 89

"Consolation, mam! For what--I say, I demand to know for what?"

"Loneliness, Jack!"

"Eh, d.u.c.h.ess,--what, mam? Haven't I got my dear Clo, and the Bo'sun, eh, mam--eh?"

"The Bo'sun, yes,--he smokes a pipe, but Cleone can't, so she looks at the moon instead,--don't you dear?"

"The moon, G.o.d-mother?" exclaimed Cleone, bringing her gaze earthwards on the instant. "Why I,--I--the moon, indeed!"

"And she listens to the brook, Jack,--don't you, my dove?"

"Why, G.o.d-mother, I--the brook? Of course not!" said Cleone.

"And, consequently, Jack, you mustn't expect to keep her much longer--"

"Eh!" cried the bewildered Captain, "what's all this, d.u.c.h.ess,--I say, what d'ye mean, mam?"

"Some women," sighed the d.u.c.h.ess, "some women never know they're in love until they've married the wrong man, and then it's too late, poor things. But our sweet Clo, on the contrary--"

"Love!" snorted the Captain louder than ever, "now sink me, mam,--I say, sink and scuttle me; but what's love got to do with Clo, eh, mam?"

"More than you think, Jack--ask her!"

But lo! my lady had risen, and was already descending the terrace steps, a little hurriedly perhaps, yet in most stately fas.h.i.+on.

Whereupon Barnabas, feeling her Grace's impelling hand upon his arm, obeyed the imperious command and rising, also descended the steps,--though in fas.h.i.+on not at all stately,--and strode after my lady, and being come beside her, walked on--yet found nothing to say, abashed by her very dignity. But, after they had gone thus some distance, venturing to glance at her averted face, Barnabas espied the dimple beside her mouth.

"Cleone," said he suddenly, "what _has_ love to do with you?"

Now, for a moment, she looked up at him, then her lashes drooped, and she turned away.

"Oh, sir," she answered, "lift up your eyes and look upon the moon!"

"Cleone, has love--come to you--at last? Tell me!" But my lady walked on for a distance with head again averted, and--with never a word. "Speak!" said Barnabas, and caught her hand (unresisting now), and held it to his lips. "Oh, Cleone,--answer me!"

Then Cleone obeyed and spoke, though her voice was tremulous and low.

"Ah, sir," said she, "listen to the brook!"

Now it so chanced they had drawn very near this talkative stream, whose voice reached them--now in hoa.r.s.e whisperings, now in throaty chucklings, and whose ripples were bright with the reflected glory of the moon. Just where they stood, a path led down to these s.h.i.+mmering waters,--a narrow and very steep path screened by bending willows; and, moved by Fate, or Chance, or Destiny, Barnabas descended this path, and turning, reached up his hands to Cleone.

"Come!" he said. And thus, for a moment, while he looked up into her eyes, she looked down into his, and sighed, and moved towards him, and--set her foot upon the pebble.

And thus, behold the pebble had achieved its purpose, for, next moment Cleone was lying in his arms, and for neither of them was life or the world to be ever the same thereafter.

Yes, indeed, the perfume of the roses was full of intoxication to-night; the murmurous brook whispered of things scarce dreamed of; and the waning moon was bright enough to show the look in her eyes and the quiver of her mouth as Barnabas stooped above her.

"Cleone!" he whispered, "Cleone--can you--do you--love me? Oh, my white lady,--my woman that I love,--do you love me?"

She did not speak, but her eyes answered him; and, in that moment Barnabas stooped and kissed her, and held her close, and closer, until she sighed and stirred in his embrace.

Then, all at once, he groaned and set her down, and stood before her with bent head.

"My dear," said he, "oh, my dear!"

"Barnabas?"

"Forgive me,--I should have spoken,--indeed, I meant to,--but I couldn't think,--it was so sudden,--forgive me! I didn't mean to even touch your hand until I had confessed my deceit. Oh, my dear, --I am not--not the fine gentleman you think me. I am only a very --humble fellow. The son of a village--inn-keeper. Your eyes were--kind to me just now, but, oh Cleone, if so humble a fellow is--unworthy, as I fear,--I--I will try to--forget."

Very still she stood, looking upon his bent head, saw the quiver of his lips, and the griping of his strong hands. Now, when she spoke, her voice was very tender.

"Can you--ever forget?"

"I will--try!"

"Then--oh, Barnabas, don't! Because I--think I could--love this--humble fellow, Barnabas."

The moon, of course, has looked on many a happy lover, yet where find one, before or since, more radiant than young Barnabas; and the brook, even in its softest, most tender murmurs, could never hope to catch the faintest echo of Cleone's voice or the indescribable thrill of it.

And as for the pebble that was so round, so smooth and innocent-seeming, whether its part had been that of beneficent sprite, or malevolent demon, he who troubles to read on may learn.

CHAPTER XLVII

HOW BARNABAS FOUND HIS MANHOOD

"Oh--hif you please, sir!"

Barnabas started, and looking about, presently espied a figure in the shadow of the osiers; a very small figure, upon whose diminutive jacket were numerous b.u.t.tons that glittered under the moon.

"Why--it's Milo of Crotona!" said Cleone.

"Yes, my lady--hif you please, it are," answered Milo of Crotona, touching the peak of his leather cap.

"But--what are you doing here? How did you know where to find us?"

"'Cause as I came up the drive, m'lady, I jest 'appened to see you a-walking together,--so I followed you, I did, m'lady."

"Followed us?" repeated Cleone rather faintly. "Oh!"

"And then--when I seen you slip, m'lady, I thought as 'ow I'd better--wait a bit. So I waited, I did." And here, again, Milo of Crotona touched the peak of his cap, and looked from Barnabas to Cleone's flus.h.i.+ng loveliness with eyes wide and profoundly innocent,--a very cherub in top-boots, only his b.u.t.tons (Ah, his b.u.t.tons!) seemed to leer and wink one to another, as much as to say: "Oh yes! Of course! to--be--sure?"

"And what brings you so far from London?" inquired Barnabas, rather hurriedly.

"Coach, sir,--box seat, sir!"

"And you brought your master with you, of course,--is the Viscount here?"