The Amateur Gentleman

And of a Fateful Lace Handkerchief Let it be understood that Barnabas was not looking at her as she lay

all warm and yielding in his embrace, on the contrary, he walked

with his gaze fixed pertinaciously upon the leafy path he followed,

nevertheless he was possessed, more than once, of a sudden feeling

that her eyes had opened and were watching him, therefore, after a

while be it noted, needs must he steal a downward glance at her

beauty, only to behold the shadowy lashes curling upon her cheeks,

as was but natural, of course. And now he began to discover that

these were, indeed, no ordinary lashes (though to be sure his

experience in such had been passing small), yet the longer he gazed

upon them the more certain he became that these were, altogether and

in all respects, the most demurely tantalizing lashes in the world.

Then, again, there was her mouth--warmly red, full-lipped and

sensitive like the delicate nostrils above; a mouth all sweet curves;

a mouth, he thought, that might grow firm and proud, or wonderfully

tender as the case might be, a mouth of scarlet bewitchment; a mouth

that for some happy mortal might be--here our Barnabas came near

blundering into a tree, and thenceforth he kept his gaze upon the

path again. So, strong armed and sure of foot, he bore her through

the magic twilight of the wood until he reached the brook. And coming

to where the bending willows made a leafy bower he laid her there,

then, turning, went down to the brook and drawing off his

neckerchief began to moisten it in the clear, cool water.

And lo! in the same minute, the curling lashes were lifted suddenly,

and beneath their shadow two eyes looked out--deep and soft and

darkly blue, the eyes of a maid--now frank and ingenuous, now shyly

troubled, but brimful of witchery ever and always. And pray what

could there be in all the fair world more proper for a maid's eyes

to rest upon than young Alcides, bare of throat, and with the sun in

his curls, as he knelt to moisten the neckerchief in the brook?

Therefore, as she lay, she gazed upon him in her turn, even as he

had first looked upon her, pleased to find his face so young and

handsome, to note the breadth of his shoulders, the graceful

carriage of his limbs, his air of virile strength and latent power,

yet doubting too, because of her sex, because of the loneliness, and

because he was a man; thus she lay blushing a little, sighing a

little, fearing a little, waiting for him to turn. True, he had been

almost reverent so far, but then the place was so very lonely. And

yet-Barnabas turned and came striding up the bank. And how was he to

know anything of all this, as he stood above her with his dripping

neckerchief in his hand, looking down at her lying so very still,

and pitying her mightily because her lashes showed so dark against

the pallor of her cheek? How was he to know how her heart leapt in

her white bosom as he sank upon his knees beside her? Therefore he

leaned above her closer and raised the dripping neckerchief. But in

that moment she (not minded to be wet) sighed, her white lids

fluttered, and, sitting up, she stared at him for all the world as

though she had never beheld him until that very moment.