The Amateur Gentleman

The hands of Natty Bell's great watch were pointing to the hour of

nine, what time Barnabas dismounted at the cross-roads, and

tethering Four-legs securely, leaned his back against the ancient

finger-post to wait the coming of Cleone.

Now being old, and having looked upon many and divers men (and women)

in its day, it is to be supposed that the ancient finger-post took

more or less interest in such things as chanced in its immediate

vicinity. Thus, it is probable that it rightly defined why this

particular long-legged human sighed so often, now with his gaze upon

the broad disc of the moon, now upon a certain point of the road

ahead, and was not in the least surprised to see Barnabas start

forward, bareheaded, to meet her who came swift and light of foot;

to see her pause before him, quick-breathing, blushing, sighing,

trembling; to see how glance met glance; to see him stoop to kiss the

hand she gave him, and all--without a word. Surprised? not a bit of

it, for to a really observant finger-post all humans (both he and she)

are much alike at such times.

"I began to fear you wouldn't come," said Barnabas, finding voice at

last.

"But to-night is--Barnaby Bright, and the prophecy must be fulfilled,

sir. And--oh, how wonderful the moon is!" Now, lifting her head to

look at it, her hood must needs take occasion to slip back upon her

shoulders, as if eager to reveal her loveliness,--the high beauty of

her face, the smooth round column of her throat, and the shining

wonder of her hair.

"Cleone--how beautiful you are!"

And here ensued another silence while Cleone gazed up at the moon,

and Barnabas at Cleone.

But the ancient finger-post (being indeed wonderfully knowing--for a

finger-post) well understood the meaning of such silences, and was

quite aware of the tremble of the strong fingers that still held hers,

and why, in the shadow of her cloak, her bosom hurried so. Oh! be

sure the finger-post knew the meaning of it all, since humans, of

every degree, are only men and women after all.

"Cleone, when will you--marry me?"

Now here my lady stole a quick glance at him, and immediately looked

up at the moon again, because the eyes that could burn so fiercely

could hold such ineffable tenderness also.

"You are very--impetuous, I think," she sighed.

"But I--love you," said Barnabas, "not only for your beauty, but

because you are Cleone, and there is no one else in the world like

you. But, because I love you so much, it--it is very hard to tell

you of it. If I could only put it into fine-sounding phrases--"

"Don't!" said my lady quickly, and laid a slender (though very

imperious) finger upon his lips.