"To the village inn, madam, my proper place, it seems.

But--to-morrow morning, unless you have told Cleone, I shall. And now,

if your Grace will have the kindness to send my servant to me--"

"But--why tell Cleone?" inquired the Duchess over her shoulder;

"there is one alternative left to you."

"Then, madam, in heaven's name,--tell it me!" cried Barnabas eagerly.

"A ridiculously simple one, sir."

"Oh, madam--what can I do--pray tell me."

"You must--disown this inn-keeping wretch, of course. You must cast

him off--now, at once, and forever!"

"Disown him--my father!"

"Certainly," Barnabas stared wide-eyed. Then he laughed, and uncovering his head,

bowed deeply.

"Madam," said he, "I have the honor to bid your Grace good-by!"

"You--will tell Cleone then?"

"To-morrow morning."

"Why?"

"Because I love her. Because I, therefore, hate deceit, and because

I--"

"Well?"

"And because Mr. Chichester knows already."

"Ah! You mean that he has forced your hand, sir, and now you would

make the best of it--"

"I mean that he has opened my eyes, madam."

"And to-morrow you will tell Cleone?"

"Yes."

"And, of course, she will scorn you for an impudent impostor?"

Now at this Barnabas flinched, for these were Chichester's own words,

and they bore a double sting.

"And yet--I must tell her!" he groaned.

"And afterwards, where shall you go?"

"Anywhere," he sighed, with a hopeless gesture.

"And--the race?"

"Will be run without me."

"And your friends--the Marquis, Viscount Devenham, and the rest?"

"Will, I expect, turn their gentlemanly backs upon me--as you

yourself have done. So, madam, I thank you for your past kindness,

and bid you--good-by"

"Stop, sir!"

"Of what avail, madam?" sighed Barnabas, turning away.

"Come back--I command you!"

"I am beneath your Grace's commands, henceforth," said Barnabas, and

plodded on down the road.

"Then I--beg of you!"

"Why?" he inquired, pausing.

"Because--oh, because you are running off with my precious needlework,

of course. In your pocket, sir,--the left one!" So, perforce,

Barnabas came back, and standing again beneath the finger-post, gave

the Duchess her very small piece of embroidery. But, behold! his hand

was caught and held between two others, which, though very fragile,

were very imperious.

"Barnabas," said the Duchess very softly, "oh, dear me, I'm glad you

told me, oh very! I hoped you would!"




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