The Amateur Gentleman

But lo! in that moment of his need there came one, borne on flying

feet, to kneel beside him in the fire-glow, and with swift,

dexterous fingers to do for him that which he could not do for

himself. But when it was done and he was free, she still knelt there

with head bent, and her face hidden beneath the frill of her mob-cap.

"Thank you!" he said, very humbly, "I fear I am very awkward, but my

shoulder is a little stiff."

But this strange serving-maid never moved, or spoke. And now,

looking down at her shapely, drooping figure, Barnabas began to

tremble, all at once, and his fingers clenched themselves upon his

chair-arms.

"Speak!" he whispered, hoarsely.

Then the great mob-cap was shaken off, yet the face of this maid was

still hid from him by reason of her hair that, escaping its

fastenings, fell down, over bowed neck and white shoulders, rippling

to the floor--a golden glory. And now, beholding the shining

splendor of this hair, his breath caught, and as one entranced, he

gazed down at her, fearing to move.

"Cleone!" he breathed, at last.

So Cleone raised her head and looked at him, sighing a little,

blushing a little, trembling a little, with eyes shy yet unashamed,

the eyes of a maid.

"Oh, Barnabas," she murmured, "I am here--on my knees. You wanted

me--on my knees, didn't you, Barnabas? So I am here to ask you--"

But now her dark lashes fluttered and fell, hiding her eyes from him,

"--to beg you to marry me. Because I love you, Barnabas, and because,

whatever else you may be, I know you are a man. So--if you

really--want me, dear Barnabas, why--take me because I am just--your

woman."

"Want you!" he repeated, "want you--oh my Cleone!" and, with a broken,

inarticulate cry, he leaned down and would have caught her fiercely

against his heart; but she, ever mindful of his wound, stayed him

with gentle hand.

"Oh, my dear--your shoulder!" she whispered; and so, clasping tender

arms about him, she drew his weary head to her bosom and, holding

him thus, covered him with the silken curtain of her hair, and in

this sweet shade, stooped and kissed him--his brow, his tearful eyes,

and, last of all, his mouth. "Oh, Barnabas," she murmured, "was

there ever, I wonder, a man so foolish and so very dear as you, or a

woman quite so proud and happy as I?"

"Proud?" he answered, "but you are a great lady, and I am only--"