The Amateur Gentleman

So, talking thus, they reached a gate, and, beyond the gate, a road,

white beneath the moon, winding away between shadowy hedges.

"You are for London, I fancy, young sir?"

"Yes."

"Then we part here. But before I bid you God speed, I would

know your name; mine is Darville--Ralph Darville."

"And mine, sir, is Barnabas--Beverley."

"Beverley!" said the Preacher, glancing up quickly, "of Ashleydown?"

"Sir," said Barnabas, "surely they are all dead?"

"True, true!" nodded the Preacher, "the name is extinct. That is how

the man--Chichester came into the inheritance. I knew the family well,

years ago. The brothers died abroad, Robert, the elder, with his

regiment in the Peninsula, Francis, in battle at sea, and Joan--like

my own poor Beatrix, was unhappy, and ran away, but she was never

heard of again."

"And her name was Joan?" said Barnabas slowly, "Joan--Beverley?"

"Yes."

"Sir, Joan Beverley was my mother! I took her name--Beverley--for a

reason."

"Your mother! Ah, I understand it now; you are greatly like her, at

times, it was the resemblance that puzzled me before. But, sir--if

Joan Beverley was your mother, why then--"

"Then, Chichester has no right to the property?"

"No!"

"And--I have?"

"If you can prove your descent."

"Yes," said Barnabas, "but--to whom?"

"You must seek out a Mr. Gregory Dyke, of Lincoln's Inn; he is the

lawyer who administered the estate--"

"Stay," said Barnabas, "let me write it down."

"And now, young sir," said the Preacher, when he had answered all

the eager questions of Barnabas as fully as he might, "now, young sir,

you know I have small cause to love the man--Chichester, but, remember,

you are rich already, and if you take this heritage also,--he will be

destitute."

"Sir," said Barnabas, frowning, "better one destitute and starving,

than that many should be wretched, surely."

The Preacher sighed and shook his head.

"Young sir, good-by," said he, "I have a feeling we may meet again,

but life is very uncertain, therefore I would beg of you to remember

this: as you are strong, be gentle; as you are rich, generous; and

as you are young, wise. But, above all, be merciful, and strive to

forgive wrongs." So they clasped hands, then, sighing, the Preacher

turned and plodded on his lonely way. But, long after he had

vanished down the moonlit road, Barnabas stood, his fists clenched,

his mouth set, until he was roused by a sound near by, a very small

sound like the jingle of distant spurs. Therefore, Barnabas lifted

his head, and glanced about him, but seeing no one, presently went

his way, slow of foot and very thoughtful.