The Amateur Gentleman Part 92

"Not--each?"

"Yes, madam."

"Forty thousand pounds! Against a favorite! Cleone, my dear,"

said the d.u.c.h.ess, with one of her quick, incisive nods, "Cleone, this Barnabas of ours is either a madman or a fool! And yet--stoop down, sir,--here where I can see you,--hum! And yet, Cleone, there are times when I think he is perhaps a little wiser than he seems,--nothing is so baffling as simplicity, my dear! If you wished to be talked about, Barnabas, you have succeeded admirably,--no wonder all London is laughing over such a preposterous bet. Forty thousand pounds! Well, it will at least buy you notoriety, and that is next to fame."

"Indeed, I hadn't thought of that," said Barnabas.

"And supposing your horse had been lamed and you couldn't ride,--how then?"

"Why, then, I forfeit the money, madam."

Now here the d.u.c.h.ess frowned thoughtfully, and thereafter said "ha!" so suddenly, that Cleone started and hurried to her side.

"Dear G.o.d-mother, what is it?"

"A thought, my dear!"

"But--"

"Call it a woman's intuition if you will."

"What is your thought, dear?"

"That you are right, Cleone,--he must go--at once!"

"Go? Barnabas?"

"Yes; to London,--now--this very instant! Unless you prefer to forfeit your money, Barnabas?"

But Barnabas only smiled and shook his head.

"You would be wiser!"

"But I was never very wise, I fear," said Barnabas.

"And--much safer!"

"Oh, G.o.d-mother,--do you think there is--danger, then?"

"Yes, child, I do. Indeed, Barnabas, you were wiser and safer to forfeit your wagers and stay here with me and--Cleone!"

But Barnabas only sighed and shook his head.

"Cleone," said the d.u.c.h.ess, "speak to him."

So blus.h.i.+ng a little, sighing a little, Cleone reached out her hand to Barnabas, while the d.u.c.h.ess watched them with her young, bright eyes.

"Oh, Barnabas, G.o.d-mother is very wise, and if--there is danger--you mustn't go--for my sake."

But Barnabas shook his head again, and taking in his strong clasp the pleading hand upon his arm, turned to the d.u.c.h.ess.

"Madam," said he, "dear d.u.c.h.ess, to-night I have found my manhood, for to-night I have learned that a man must ever choose the hardest course and follow it--to the end. To-night Cleone has taught me--many things."

"And you will--stay?" inquired the d.u.c.h.ess.

"I must go!" said Barnabas.

"Then good-by--Barnabas!" said her Grace, looking up at him with a sudden, radiant smile, "good-by!" said she very softly, "it is a fine thing to be a gentleman, perhaps,--but it is a G.o.dlike thing to be--a man!" So saying, she gave him her hand, and as Barnabas stooped to kiss those small, white fingers, she looked down at his curly head with such an expression as surely few had ever seen within the eyes of this ancient, childless woman, her Grace of Camberhurst.

"Now Giant!" she called, as Barnabas turned towards Cleone, "come here, Giant, and promise me to take care of Mr. Beverley."

"Yes, mam,--all right, mam,--you jest leave 'im to me," replied Master Milo with his superb air, "don't you worrit on 'is account, 'e'll be all right along o' me, mam, 'e will."

"For that," cried the d.u.c.h.ess, catching him by two of his gleaming b.u.t.tons, "for that I mean to kiss you, Giant!" The which, despite his reproving blushes, she did forthwith.

And Cleone and Barnabas? Well, it so chanced, her Grace's back was towards them; while as for Master Milo--abashed, and for once forgetful of his bepolished topboots, he became in very truth a child, though one utterly unused to the motherly touch of a tender woman's lips; therefore he suffered the embrace with closed eyes,--even his b.u.t.tons were eclipsed, and, in that moment, the d.u.c.h.ess whispered something in his ear. Then he turned and followed after Barnabas, who was already striding away across the wide lawn, his head carried high, a new light in his eyes and a wondrous great joy at his heart, --a man henceforth--resolute to attempt all things, glorying in his strength and contemptuous of failure, because of the trill of a woman's voice and the quick hot touch of a woman's soft lips, whose caress had been in no sense--motherly. And presently, being come to the hospitable gates, he turned with bared head to look back at the two women, the one a childless mother, old and worn, yet wise with years, and the maid, strong and proud in all the glory of her warm, young womanhood. Side by side with arms entwined they stood, to watch young Barnabas, and in the eyes of each, an expression so much alike, yet so dissimilar. Then, with a flourish of his hat, Barnabas went on down the road, past the finger-post, with Milo of Crotona's small top-boots twinkling at his side.

"Sir," said he suddenly, speaking in an awed tone, "is she a real Doochess--the little old 'un?"

"Yes," nodded Barnabas, "very real. Why, Imp?"

"'Cos I called 'er a child, I did--Lord! An' then she--she kissed me, she did, sir--which ain't much in my line, it ain't. But she give me a guinea, sir, an' she likewise whispered in my ear, she did."

"Oh?" said Barnabas, thinking of Cleone--"whispered, did she?"

"Ah! she says to me--quick like, sir,--she says, 'tell 'im,' she says--meaning you, sir, 'tell 'im to beware o' Wilfred Chichester!'

she says."

CHAPTER XLVIII

IN WHICH "THE TERROR," HITHERTO KNOWN AS "FOUR-LEGS,"

JUSTIFIES HIS NEW NAME

The chill of dawn was in the air as the chaise began to rumble over the London cobble-stones, whereupon Master Milo (who for the last hour had slumbered peacefully, coiled up in his corner like a kitten) roused himself, sat suddenly very upright, straightened his cap and pulled down his coat, broad awake all at once, and with his eyes as round and bright as his b.u.t.tons.

"Are you tired, Imp?" inquired Barnabas, yawning.

"Tired, sir, ho no, sir--not a bit, I ain't."

"But you haven't slept much."

"Slep', sir? I ain't slep'. I only jest 'appened to close me eyes, sir. Ye see, I don't need much sleep, I don't,--four hours is enough for any man,--my pal Nick says so, and Nick knows a precious lot, 'e do."