"My dear," said she, smiling and stroking her tyrant's shaven cheek, "why distress ourselves, we can always refuse him, can't we?"
"Ay, to be sure, so we can," nodded the Captain, "but oh! sink me,—I say sink and scuttle me, the audacity of it! I say he's a cool, impudent, audacious fellow!"
"Yes, dear, indeed I think he's all that," said my lady, nodding her head at Barnabas very decidedly, "and I forgot to tell you that beside all this, he is the—gentleman who—saved me from my folly to-night, and brought me back to you."
"Eh? eh?" cried the Captain, staring.
"Yes, dear, and this is he who—" But here she drew down her tyrant's gray head, and whispered three words in his ear. Whatever she said it affected the Captain mightily, for his frown changed suddenly into his youthful smile, and reaching out impulsively, he grasped Barnabas by the hand.
"Aha, sir!" said he, "you have a good, big fist here!"
"Indeed," said Barnabas, glancing down at it somewhat ruefully, "it is—very large, I fear."
"Over large, sir!" says my lady, also regarding it, and with her head at a critical angle, "it could never be called—an elegant hand, could it?"
"Elegant!" snorted the Captain, "I say pooh! I say pish! Sir, you must come in and sup with us, my house is near by. Good English beef and ale, sir."
Barnabas hesitated, and glanced toward Cleone, but her face was
hidden in the shadow of her hood, wherefore his look presently
wandered to the finger-post, near by, upon whose battered sign he
read the words:—
TO HAWKHURST. TO LONDON.
"Sir," said he, "I would, most gratefully, but that I start for London at once." Yet while he spoke, he frowned blackly at the finger-post, as though it had been his worst enemy.
"London!" exclaimed the Captain, "so you are still bound for the fashionable world, are ye?"
"Yes," sighed Barnabas, "but I—"
"Pish, sir, I say fiddle-de-dee!"
"I have lately undertaken a mission."
"Ha! So you won't come in?"
"Thank you, no; this mission is important, and I must be gone;" and here again Barnabas sighed.
Then my lady turned and looked at Barnabas, and, though she uttered no word, her eyes were eloquent; so that the heart of him was uplifted, and he placed his hand upon the finger-post as though it had been his best friend.
"Why then, so be it, young sir," said the Captain, "it remains only to thank you, which I do, I say which I do most heartily, and to bid you good-by."
"Until we meet again, Captain."
"Eh—what, sir? meet when?"
"At 'Barnaby Bright,'" says my lady, staring up at the moon.
"In a month's time," added Barnabas.
"Eh?" exclaimed the Captain, "what's all this?"
"In a month's time, sir, I shall return to ask Cleone to be my wife,"
Barnabas explained.
"And," said my lady, smiling at the Captain's perplexity, "we shall be glad to see him, shan't we, dear? and shall, of course, refuse him, shan't we, dear?"
"Refuse him? yes—no—egad! I don't know," said the Captain, running his fingers through his hair, "I say, deuce take me—I'm adrift; I say where's the Bo'sun?"
"Good-by, sir!" says my lady, very seriously, and gave him her hand; "good-by."
"Till 'Barnaby Bright,'" said Barnabas.
At this she smiled, a little tremulously perhaps.
"May heaven prosper you in your mission," said she, and turned away.
"Young sir," said the Captain, "always remember my name is Chumly,
John Chumly, plain and unvarnished, and, whether we refuse you or not,
John Chumly will ever be ready to take you by the hand. Farewell, sir!"
So tyrant and captive turned away and went down the by-road together, and his solitary arm was close about her. But Barnabas stood there under the finger-post until a bend in the road hid them; then he, too, sighed and turned away. Yet he had gone only a little distance when he heard a voice calling him, and, swinging round, he saw Cleone standing under the finger-post.
"I wanted to give you—this," said she, as he came striding back, and held out a folded paper. "It is his—my brother's—letter. Take it with you, it will serve to show you what a boy he is, and will tell you where to find him."
So Barnabas took the letter and thrust it into his pocket. But she yet stood before him, and now, once again, their glances avoided each other.
"I also wanted to—ask you—about your cheek," said she at last.
