"From the Viscount—Viscount Devenham?"
"Then, you know the Viscount?"
"I do; we also know each other as rivals."
"Rivals? For what?"
"Yourself."
"For me? Sir—sir—what did you tell him?"
"My name is Barnabas. And I told him that I should probably marry you, some day."
"You told him—that?"
"I did. I thought it but honorable, seeing he is my friend."
"Your friend!—since when, sir?"
"Since about ten o'clock this morning."
"Sir—sir—are you not a very precipitate person?"
"I begin to think I am. And my name is Barnabas."
"Since ten o'clock this morning! Then you knew—me first?"
"By about an hour."
Swiftly she turned away, yet not before he had seen the betraying dimple in her cheek. And so, side by side, they came to the edge of the clearing.
Now as he stooped to open a way for her among the brambles, she must needs behold again the glowing mark upon his cheek, and seeing it, her glance fell, and her lips grew very tender and pitiful, and, in that moment, she spoke.
"Sir," she said, very softly, "sir?"
"My name is Barnabas."
"I fear—I—does your cheek pain you very much, Mr. Beverley?"
"Thank you, no. And my name is Barnabas."
"I did not mean to—to—"
"No, no, the fault was mine—I—I frightened you, and indeed the pain is quite gone," he stammered, holding aside the brambles for her passage. Yet she stood where she was, and her face was hidden in her hood. At last she spoke and her voice was very low.
"Quite gone, sir?"
"Quite gone, and my name is—"
"I'm very—glad—Barnabas."
Four words only, be it noted; yet on the face of Barnabas was a
light that was not of the moon, as they entered the dim woodland
together.
CHAPTER XXI
IN WHICH BARNABAS UNDERTAKES A MISSION
Their progress through the wood was slow, by reason of the undergrowth, yet Barnabas noticed that where the way permitted, she hurried on at speed, and moreover, that she was very silent and kept her face turned from him; therefore he questioned her.
"Are you afraid of these woods?"
"No."
"Of me?"
"No."
"Then, I fear you are angry again."
"I think Barnab—your name is—hateful!"
"Strange!" said Barnabas, "I was just thinking how musical it was—as you say it."
"I—oh! I thought your cheek was paining you," said she, petulantly.
"My cheek?—what has that to do with it?"
"Everything, sir!"
