The Amateur Gentleman

"My lady!"

"Oh!" she sighed, "oh, that he should have come to this!"

"My Lady Cleone!" said Barnabas, and touched her very gently.

"And you--you!" she cried, shuddering away from him, "you thought me

what--he would have made me! You thought I--Oh, shame! Ah, don't

touch me!"

But Barnabas stooped and caught her hands, and sank upon his knees,

and thus, as they knelt together in the moonlight, he drew her so

that she must needs let him see her face.

"My lady," said he, very reverently, "my thought of you is this, that,

if such great honor may be mine, I will marry you--to-night."

But hereupon, with her two hands still prisoned in his, and with the

tears yet thick upon her lashes, she threw back her head, and

laughed with her eyes staring into his. Thereat Barnabas frowned

blackly, and dropped her hands, then caught her suddenly in his long

arms, and held her close.

"By God!" he exclaimed, "I'd kiss you, Cleone, on that scornful,

laughing mouth, only--I love you--and this is a solitude. Come away!"

"A solitude," she repeated; "yes, and he sent me here, to meet a

beast--a satyr! And now--you! You drove away the other brute, oh! I

can't struggle--you are too strong--and nothing matters now!" And so

she sighed, and closed her eyes. Then gazing down upon her rich,

warm beauty, Barnabas trembled, and loosed her, and sprang to his

feet.

"I think," said he, turning away to pick up his cudgel, "I think--we

had--better--go."

But my lady remained crouched upon her knees, gazing up at him under

her wet lashes.

"You didn't--kiss me!" she said, wonderingly.

"You were so--helpless!" said Barnabas. "And I honor you because it

was--your brother."

"Ah! but you doubted me first, you thought I came here to meet

that--beast!"

"Forgive me," said Barnabas, humbly.

"Why should I?"

"Because I love you."

"So many men have told me that," she sighed.

"But I," said Barnabas, "I am the last, and it is written 'the last

shall be first,' and I love you because you are passionate, and pure,

and very brave."

"Love!" she exclaimed, "so soon; you have seen me only once!"

"Yes," he nodded, "it is, therefore, to be expected that I shall

worship you also--in due season."

Now Barnabas stood leaning upon his stick, a tall, impassive figure;

his voice was low, yet it thrilled in her ears, and there was that

in his steadfast eyes before which her own wavered and fell; yet,

even so, from the shadow of her hood, she must needs question him

further.

"Worship me? When?"

"When you are--my--wife."

Again she was silent, while one slender hand plucked nervously at

the grass.

"Are you so sure of me?" she inquired at last.