The Amateur Gentleman

At the touch Mr. Chichester started and, uttering an exclamation,

turned savagely; then Barnabas struggled to his knees, and pinning

his wrist with one hand, twisted the pistol from his grasp with the

other and, as Mr. Chichester sprang to his feet, faced him, still

upon his knees, but with levelled weapon.

"Don't shoot!" cried a voice.

"Shoot?" repealed Barnabas, and got unsteadily upon his legs.

"Shoot--no, my hands are best!" and, flinging the pistol far out

into the River, he approached Mr. Chichester, staggering a little,

but with fists clenched.

"Sir," cried the voice again, "oh, young sir, what would you do?"

"Kill him!" said Barnabas.

"No, no--leave him to God's justice, God will requite him--let him go."

"No!" said Barnabas, shaking his head. But, as he pressed forward

intent on his purpose, restraining hands were upon his arm, and the

voice pleaded in his ear: "God is a just God, young sir--let the man go--leave him to the

Almighty," And the hands upon his arm shook him with passionate entreaty.

Therefore Barnabas paused and, bowing his head, clasped his

throbbing temples between his palms and so, stood a while. When he

looked up again, Mr. Chichester was gone, and the Apostle of Peace

stood before him, his silver hair shining, his pale face uplifted

towards heaven.

"I owe you--my life!" said Barnabas.

"You are alive, young sir, which is good, and your hands are not

stained with a villain's blood, which is much better. But, as for

me--God pity me!--I came here to-night, meaning to be a

self-murderer--oh, God forgive me!"

"But you--asked for--a sign, I think," said Barnabas, "and you--live

also. And to-night your pilgrimage ends, in Clemency's loving arms."

"Clemency? My daughter? Oh, sir,--young sir, how may that be? They

tell me she is dead."

"Lies!" said Barnabas, "lies! I spoke with her tonight." The Apostle

of Peace stood a while with bowed head; when at last he looked up,

his cheeks were wet with tears.

"Then, sir," said he, "take me to her. Yet, stay! You are hurt, and,

if in my dark hour I doubted God's mercy, I would not be selfish in

my happiness--"

"Happiness!" said Barnabas, "yes--every one seems happy--but me."

"You are hurt, young sir. Stoop your head and let me see."

"No," sighed Barnabas, "I'm well enough. Come, let me take you to

Clemency."

So, without more ado, they left that dreary place, and walked on

together side by side and very silent, Barnabas with drooping head,

and his companion with eyes uplifted and ever-moving lips.

Thus, in a while, they turned into the narrow court, and reaching

the door of Nick the Cobbler, Barnabas knocked and, as they waited,

he could see that his companion was trembling violently where he

leaned beside him against the wall. Then the door was opened and

Clemency appeared, her shapely figure outlined against the light

behind her.