The Amateur Gentleman

"Gad, yes, that it will, Bev!" added the Viscount. "And, my dear

fellow," he pursued, growing somewhat incoherent because of his

earnestness, "I want to tell you that--that because I--I'm so

deucedly happy myself, y' know, I wish that my luck had been

yours--no, I don't mean that exactly, but what I meant to say was

that I--that you deserve to--to--oh, blister me! Tell him what I mean,

Clemency dear," the Viscount ended, a little hoarsely.

"That you deserve to know a love as great, a joy as deep as ours,

dear Barnabas."

"Exactly!" nodded the Viscount, with a fond look at his young wife;

"Precisely what I meant, Bev, for I'm the proudest, happiest fellow

alive, y' know. And what's more, my dear fellow, in marrying

Clemency I marry also an heiress possessed of all the attributes

necessary to bowl over a thousand flinty-hearted Roman P's, and my

Roman's heart--though tough, was never quite a flint, after all."

"Indeed, sir--he would have welcomed me without a penny!" retorted

Clemency, blushing, and consequently looking lovelier than ever.

"Why--to be sure he would!" said Barnabas. "Indeed, who wouldn't?"

"Exactly, Bev!" replied the Viscount, "she cornered him with the

first glance, floored him with a second, and had him fairly beaten

out of the ring with a third. Gad, if you'd only been there to see!"

"Would I had!" sighed Barnabas.

"Still there's always--the future, y' know!" nodded the Viscount.

"Ah, yes, and with an uncommonly big capital F, y' know, Bev. It was

decreed that we were to be friends by--well, you remember who,

Bev--and friends we always must be, now and hereafter, amen, my dear

fellow, and between you and me--and my Viscountess, I think the

Future holds more happiness for you than ever the past did. Your

turn will come, y' know, Bev--we shall be dancing at your wedding

next--shan't we, Clem?"

"No, Dick," answered Barnabas, shaking his head, "I shall never marry."

"Hum!" said the Viscount, fingering his chin and apparently lost in

contemplation of a fleecy cloud.

"Of that I am--quite certain."

"Ha!" said the Viscount, staring down at the toe of his glossy boot.

"But," continued Barnabas, "even in my loneliness--"

"His loneliness--hum!" said the Viscount, still contemplating his

resplendent boot. "Clemency dear, do you suppose our Barnabas fellow

will be groaning over his 'loneliness'--to-morrow, say?" Hereupon,

the Viscount laughed suddenly, and for no apparent reason, while

even Clemency's red lips curved and parted in a smile.

"But," said Barnabas, looking from one to the other, "I don't

understand!"

"Neither do we, Bev. Only, dear fellow, remember this, 'there is a

destiny which shapes our ends,' and--occasionally, a Duchess." But

here, while Barnabas still glanced at them in perplexity, John

Peterby appeared, bearing a tray whereon stood a decanter and glasses.