The Amateur Gentleman

So Barnabas loosed her, albeit regretfully, and stood watching while

she dexterously twisted, and smoothed, and patted her shining hair

into some semblance of order; and while so doing, she berated him,

on this wise: "Indeed, sir, but you're horribly strong. And very hasty. And your

hands are very large. And I fear you have a dreadful temper. And I

know my hair is all anyhow,--isn't it?"

"It is beautiful!" sighed Barnabas.

"Mm! You told me that in Annersley Wood, sir."

"You haven't forgotten, then?"

"Oh, no," answered Cleone, shaking her head, "but I would have you

more original, you see,--so many men have told me that. Ah! now

you're frowning again, and it's nearly time for me to go, and I

haven't had a chance to mention what I came for, which, of course,

is all your fault, Barnabas. To-day, I received a letter from Ronald.

He writes that he has been ill, but is better. And yet, I fear, he

must be very weak still, for oh! it's such poor, shaky writing. Was

he very ill when you saw him?"

"No," answered Barnabas.

"Here is the letter,--will you read it? You see, I have no one who

will talk to me about poor Ronald, no one seems to have any pity for

him,--not even my dear Tyrant."

"But you will always have me, Cleone!"

"Always, Barnabas?"

"Always."

So Barnabas took Ronald Barrymaine's letter, and opening it, saw

that it was indeed scrawled in characters so shaky as to be

sometimes almost illegible; but, holding it in the full light of the

moon, he read as follows: DEAREST OF SISTERS,--I was unable to keep the appointment

I begged for in my last, owing to a sudden indisposition,

and, though better now, I am still ailing. I fear my many

misfortunes are rapidly undermining my health, and

sometimes I sigh for Death and Oblivion. But, dearest Cleone,

I forbid you to grieve for me, I am man enough, I hope,

to endure my miseries uncomplainingly, as a man and a gentleman

should. Chichester, with his unfailing kindness, has offered me

an asylum at his country place near Headcorn, where I hope to

regain something of my wonted health. But for Chichester I

tremble to think what would have been my fate long

before this. At Headcorn I shall at least be nearer you,

my best of sisters, and it is my hope that you may be

persuaded to steal away now and then, to spend an hour

with two lonely bachelors, and cheer a brother's solitude.

Ah, Cleone! Chichester's devotion to you is touching, such

patient adoration must in time meet with its reward. By

your own confession you have nothing against him but

the fact that he worships you too ardently, and this, most

women would think a virtue. And remember, he is your

luckless brother's only friend. This is the only man who

has stood by me in adversity, the only man who can help

me to retrieve the past, the only man a truly loving sister

should honor with her regard. All women are more or

less selfish. Oh, Cleone, be the exception and give my

friend the answer he seeks, the answer he has sought of

you already, the answer which to your despairing brother

means more than you can ever guess, the answer whereby

you can fulfil the promise you gave our dying mother to

help Your unfortunate brother, RONALD BARRYMAINE.