The Amateur Gentleman

So saying, the speaker flung up his long arms, and with his gaze

fixed upon a certain part of the hedge, lifted his voice and spoke: "Oho, lurking spirit among the shadows! Ho! come forth, I summon ye.

The dew is thick amid the leaves, and dew is an evil thing for

purple and fine linen. Oho, stand forth, I bid ye."

There followed a moment's utter silence, then--another rustle amid

the leaves, and Mr. Chichester stepped out from the shadows.

"Ah, sir," said Barnabas, consulting his watch, "you are just

twenty-three minutes before your time. Nevertheless you are, I think,

too late."

Mr. Chichester glanced at Barnabas from head to foot, and, observing

his smile, Barnabas clenched his fists.

"Too late, sir?" repeated Mr. Chichester softly, shaking his head,

"no,--indeed I think not. Howbeit there are times and occasions when

solitude appeals to me; this is one. Pray, therefore, be good enough

to--go, and--ah--take your barefooted friend with you."

"First, sir," said Barnabas, bowing with aggressive politeness,

"first, I humbly beg leave to speak with you, to--"

"Sir," said Mr. Chichester, gently tapping a nettle out of existence

with his cane, "sir, I have no desire for your speeches, they, like

yourself, I find a little trying, and vastly uninteresting. I prefer

to stay here and meditate a while. I bid you good night, sir, a

pleasant ride."

"None the less, sir," said Barnabas, beginning to smile, "I fear I

must inflict myself upon you a moment longer, to warn you that I--"

"To warn me? Again? Oh, sir, I grow weary of your warnings, I do

indeed! Pray go away and warn somebody else. Pray go, and let me

stare upon the moon and twiddle my thumbs until--"

"If it is the Lady Cleone you wait for, she is gone!" said Youth,

quick and impetuous.

"Ah!" sighed Mr. Chichester, viewing Barnabas through narrowed eyes,

"gone, you say? But then, young sir," here he gently poked a

dock-leaf into ruin, "but then, Cleone is one of your tempting, warm,

delicious creatures! Cleone is a skilled coquette to whom all men

are--men. To-night it is--you, to-morrow--" Mr. Chichester's right

hand vanished into his bosom as Barnabas strode forward, but, on the

instant, Billy Button was between them.

"Stay, my Lord!" he cried, "look upon this face,--'t is the face of

my friend Barnaby Bright, but, my Lord, it is also the face of

Joan's son. You've heard tell of Joan, poor Joan who was unhappy,

and ran away, and got lost,--you'll mind Joan Beverley?" Now, in the

pause that followed, as Mr. Chichester gazed at Barnabas, his

narrowed eyes opened, little by little, his compressed lips grew

slowly loose, and the tasselled cane slipped from his fingers, and

lay all neglected.