"And for Cleone!" added Mr. Chichester over his shoulder, "our young,
disinterested Good Samaritan knows she is too proud to permit a
stranger to shoulder her brother's responsibilities--"
"Proud, eh?" cried Barrymaine, leaping up in sudden boyish passion,
"well, am I not proud? Did you ever know me anything else--did you?"
"Never, my dear Ronald," cried Mr. Chichester, turning at last.
"You are unfortunate, but you have always met disaster--so far,
with the fortitude of a gentleman, scorning your detractors
and--abominating charity."
"C-charity! damn you, Chichester, d' ye think I-I'd accept any man's
c-charity? D' you think I'd ever drag Cleone to that depth--do you?"
"Never, Barrymaine, never, I swear."
"Why then--leave me alone, I can m-manage my own affairs--"
"Perfectly, my dear fellow, I am sure of it."
"Then sir," said Barnabas, rising, "seeing it really is no concern
of yours, after all, suppose you cease to trouble yourself any
further in the matter, and allow Mr. Barrymaine to choose for
himself--"
"I--I have decided!" cried Barrymaine, "and I tell you--"
"Wait!" said Barnabas.
"Speak!" said Mr. Chichester.
"Wait!" repeated Barnabas, "Mr. Chichester is--going, I think. Let
us wait until we are alone." Then, bowing to Mr. Chichester,
Barnabas opened the door wide. "Sir," said he, "may I venture to
suggest that your presence is--not at all necessary?"
"Ah!" said Mr. Chichester, "you will certainly compel me to kill you,
some day."
"'Sufficient unto the day,' sir!" Barnabas retorted; "in the
meantime I shall most certainly give myself the pleasure of kicking
you downstairs unless you choose to walk--at once."
As he spoke, Barnabas took a stride towards Mr. Chichester's rigid
figure, but, in that moment, Barrymaine snatched up the bottle and
sprang between them.
"Ah!--would you?" he cried, "who are you to order my f-friends
about--and in m-my own place too! Ha! did you think you could buy me,
d-did you? Did you think I--I'd sacrifice my sister--did you? Ha!
drunk, am I? Well, I'm sober enough to--to 'venge my honor and hers;
by God I'll kill you! Ah--let go, Dig! Let go, I say! Didn't you hear?
Tempt me with his cursed money, will he! Oh, let go my arm! Damn him,
I say--I'll kill him!"
But, as he struck, Mr. Smivvle caught his wrist, the bottle crashed
splintering to the floor, and they were locked in a fierce grapple.
"Beverley--my dear fellow--go!" panted Mr. Smivvle, "must
forgive--poor Barry--not himself. Go--go,--I can--manage him. Now
Barry, do be calm! Go, my dear fellow--leave him to me--go!" So,
perforce, Barnabas turned away and went down the dingy stairs, and
in his ears was the echo of the boy's drunken ravings and Mr.
Chichester's soft laughter.
And presently, being come into the dingy street, Barnabas paused to
look up at the dingy house, and looking, sighed.