"Gad, yes, that it will, Bev!" added the Viscount. "And, my dear
fellow," he pursued, growing somewhat incoherent because of his
earnestness, "I want to tell you that--that because I--I'm so
deucedly happy myself, y' know, I wish that my luck had been
yours--no, I don't mean that exactly, but what I meant to say was
that I--that you deserve to--to--oh, blister me! Tell him what I mean,
Clemency dear," the Viscount ended, a little hoarsely.
"That you deserve to know a love as great, a joy as deep as ours,
dear Barnabas."
"Exactly!" nodded the Viscount, with a fond look at his young wife;
"Precisely what I meant, Bev, for I'm the proudest, happiest fellow
alive, y' know. And what's more, my dear fellow, in marrying
Clemency I marry also an heiress possessed of all the attributes
necessary to bowl over a thousand flinty-hearted Roman P's, and my
Roman's heart--though tough, was never quite a flint, after all."
"Indeed, sir--he would have welcomed me without a penny!" retorted
Clemency, blushing, and consequently looking lovelier than ever.
"Why--to be sure he would!" said Barnabas. "Indeed, who wouldn't?"
"Exactly, Bev!" replied the Viscount, "she cornered him with the
first glance, floored him with a second, and had him fairly beaten
out of the ring with a third. Gad, if you'd only been there to see!"
"Would I had!" sighed Barnabas.
"Still there's always--the future, y' know!" nodded the Viscount.
"Ah, yes, and with an uncommonly big capital F, y' know, Bev. It was
decreed that we were to be friends by--well, you remember who,
Bev--and friends we always must be, now and hereafter, amen, my dear
fellow, and between you and me--and my Viscountess, I think the
Future holds more happiness for you than ever the past did. Your
turn will come, y' know, Bev--we shall be dancing at your wedding
next--shan't we, Clem?"
"No, Dick," answered Barnabas, shaking his head, "I shall never marry."
"Hum!" said the Viscount, fingering his chin and apparently lost in
contemplation of a fleecy cloud.
"Of that I am--quite certain."
"Ha!" said the Viscount, staring down at the toe of his glossy boot.
"But," continued Barnabas, "even in my loneliness--"
"His loneliness--hum!" said the Viscount, still contemplating his
resplendent boot. "Clemency dear, do you suppose our Barnabas fellow
will be groaning over his 'loneliness'--to-morrow, say?" Hereupon,
the Viscount laughed suddenly, and for no apparent reason, while
even Clemency's red lips curved and parted in a smile.
"But," said Barnabas, looking from one to the other, "I don't
understand!"
"Neither do we, Bev. Only, dear fellow, remember this, 'there is a
destiny which shapes our ends,' and--occasionally, a Duchess." But
here, while Barnabas still glanced at them in perplexity, John
Peterby appeared, bearing a tray whereon stood a decanter and glasses.