"Ha!--most excellent Peterby!" cried the Viscount, "you come pat to
the occasion, as usual. Fill up for all of us, yes--even my small
Imp yonder; I have a toast to give you." And, when the glasses
brimmed, the Viscount turned and looked at Barnabas with his boyish
smile. "Let us drink," said he, "to the Future, and the Duchess's
move!"
So the toast was drunk with all due honors: but when Barnabas sought
an explanation, the Viscount laughed and shook his head.
"Pray ask my Viscountess," said he, with a fond look at her, and
turned away to rebuckle a trace under the anxious supervision of
Master Milo.
"Indeed, no, Barnabas," said Clemency, smiling, "I cannot explain,
as Dick well knows. But this I must tell you, while you lay here,
very near death, I came to see you often with my dear father."
"Ah!" exclaimed Barnabas, "then you met--her?"
"Yes, I met Cleone, and I--loved her. She was very tired and worn,
the first time I saw her; you were delirious, and she had watched
over you all night. Of course we talked of you, and she told me how
she had found my letter to you, the only one I ever wrote you, and
how she had misjudged you. And then she cried, and I took her in my
arms and kissed away her tears and comforted her. So we learned to
know and love each other, you see."
"I am very glad," said Barnabas, slowly, and with his gaze on the
distance, "for her sake and yours."
Now as she looked at him, Clemency sighed all at once, yet
thereafter smiled very tenderly, and so smiling, gave him both her
hands.
"Oh, Barnabas," said she, "I know Happiness will come to you, sooner
or later--when least expected, as it came to me, so--dear Barnabas,
smile!"
Then Barnabas, looking from her tearful, pitying eyes to the hand
upon whose finger was a certain plain gold ring that shone so very
bright and conspicuous because of its newness, raised that slender
hand to his lips.
"Thank you, Clemency," he answered, "but why are you--so sure?"
"A woman's intuition, perhaps, Barnabas, or perhaps, because if ever
a man deserved to be happy--you do, dear brother."
"Amen to that!" added the Viscount, who had at length adjusted the
trace to his own liking and Master Milo's frowning approval. "Good-by,
Bev," he continued, gripping the hand Barnabas extended. "We are going
down to Devenham for a week or so--Clemency's own wish, and when we
come back I have a feeling that the--the shadows, y' know, will have
passed quite away, y'know,--for good and all. Good-by, dear fellow,
good-by!" So saying, the Viscount turned, rather hastily, sprang into
the phaeton and took up the reins.
"Are you right there, Imp?"