The Amateur Gentleman

Indeed the historian is bold to say that within no kitchen in this

world were all things in such a constant state of winking, twinkling,

gleaming and glowing purity, from the very legs of the oaken table

and chairs, to the hacked and battered old cutlass above the chimney,

as in this self-same kitchen of "The Spotted Cow."

And yet--and yet! Sweeter, whiter, warmer, purer, and far more

delicious than anything in this kitchen (or out of it) was she who

had started up to her feet so suddenly, and now stood with blushing

cheeks and hurried bosom, gazing shy-eyed upon the young Viscount;

all dainty grace from the ribbons in her mob-cap to the slender,

buckled shoe peeping out beneath her print gown; and Barnabas,

standing between them, saw her flush reflected as it were for a

moment in the Viscount's usually pale cheek.

"My Lord!" said she, and stopped.

"Why, Clemency, you--you are--handsomer than ever!" stammered the

Viscount.

"Oh, my Lord!" she exclaimed; and as she turned away Barnabas

thought there were tears in her eyes.

"Did we startle you, Clemency? Forgive me--but I--that is,

we are--hungry, ravenous. Er--this is a friend of mine--Mr.

Beverley--Mistress Clemency Dare; and oh, Clemency, I've had no

breakfast!"

But seeing she yet stood with head averted, the Viscount with a

freedom born of long acquaintance, yet with a courtly deference also,

took the hand that hung so listless, and looked down into the

flushed beauty of her face, and, as he looked, beheld a great tear

that crept upon her cheek.

"Why, Clemency!" he exclaimed, his raillery gone, his voice suddenly

tender, "Clemency--you're crying, my dear maid; what is it?"

Now, beholding her confusion, and because of it, Barnabas turned

away and walked to the other end of the kitchen, and there it

chanced that he spied two objects that lay beneath the table, and

stooping, forthwith, he picked them up. They were small and

insignificant enough in themselves--being a scrap of crumpled paper,

and a handsome embossed coat button; yet as Barnabas gazed upon this

last, he smiled grimly, and so smiling slipped the objects into his

pocket.

"Come now, Clemency," persisted the Viscount, gently, "what is wrong?"

"Nothing; indeed, nothing, my Lord."

"Ay, but there is. See how red your eyes are; they quite spoil your

beauty--"

"Beauty!" she cried. "Oh, my Lord; even you!"

"What? What have I said? You are beautiful you know, Clem, and--"

"Beauty!" she cried again, and turned upon him with clenched hands

and dark eyes aflame. "I hate it--oh, I hate it!" and with the

words she stamped her foot passionately, and turning, sped away,

banging the door behind her.

"Now, upon my soul!" said the Viscount, taking off his hat and

ruffling up his auburn locks, "of all the amazing, contradictory

creatures in the world, Bev! I've known Clemency--hum--a goodish time,

my dear fellow; but never saw her like this before, I wonder what

the deuce--"