"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 Duchess 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 attitude;
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?"