Suddenly Barnabas smiled, and held out a hand to him.
"Why, John," said he, "my faithful John--is it you?"
"Sir," murmured Peterby, and coming forward, took that extended hand,
looking down at Barnabas joyful-eyed, and would have spoken, yet
uttered no other word.
"John," said Barnabas, glancing round the faded splendors of the
bed-chamber, "where am I, pray?"
"At Ashleydown, sir."
"Ashleydown?" repeated Barnabas, wrinkling his brow.
"Sir, you have been--very ill."
"Ah, yes, I was shot I remember--last night, I think?"
"Sir, it happened over three weeks ago."
"Three weeks!" repeated Barnabas, sitting up with an effort,
"three weeks, John?--Oh, impossible!"
"You have been very near death, sir. Indeed I think you would have
died but for the tender nursing and unceasing care of--"
"Ah, God bless her! Where is she, John--where is the Duchess?"
"Her Grace went out driving this morning, sir."
"This morning? Why, I was talking with her this morning--only a
little while ago."
"That was yesterday morning, sir."
"Oh!" said Barnabas, hand to head, "do you mean that I have slept
the clock round?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hum!" said Barnabas. "Consequently I'm hungry, John, deuced sharp
set--ravenous, John!"
"That, sir," quoth Peterby, smiling his rare smile, "that is the
best news I've heard this three weeks and more, and your chicken
broth is ready--"
"Chicken broth!" exclaimed Barnabas, "for shame, John. Bring me a
steak, do you hear?"
"But, sir," Peterby remonstrated, shaking his head, yet with his
face ever brightening, "indeed I--"
"Or a chop, John, or ham and eggs--I'm hungry; I tell you."
"Excellent!" laughed Peterby, nodding his head, "but the doctor,
sir--"
"Doctor!" cried Barnabas, with a snort, "what do I want with doctors?
I'm well, John. Bring me my clothes."
"Clothes, sir!" exclaimed Peterby, aghast. "Impossible, sir! No, no!"
"Yes, yes, John--I'm going to get up."
"But, sir--"
"This very moment! My clothes, John, my clothes!"
"Indeed, sir, I--"
"John Peterby," said Barnabas, scowling blackly, "you will oblige me
with my garments this instant,--obey me, sir!"
But hereupon, while Barnabas scowled and Peterby hesitated, puckered
of brow yet joyful of eye, there came the sound of wheels on the
drive below and the slam of a coach door, whereat Peterby crossed to
the window and, glancing out, heaved a sigh of relief.
"Who is it?" demanded Barnabas, his scowl blacker than ever.
"Her Grace has returned, sir."
"Very good, John! Present my compliments and sa'y I will wait upon
her as soon as I'm dressed."
But hardly had Peterby left the room with this message, than the
door opened again and her Grace of Camberhurst appeared, who,
catching sight of Barnabas sitting up shock-headed among his pillows,
uttered a little, glad cry and hurried to him.