Jeffery Farnol

“ Well, to-day you have your wish—to-day you are famous, and yet—"
"Well, John?"
"Sir, to-day I fear you are—not happy."
"No, I'm not happy," sighed Barnabas, "for oh! John Peterby, what shall it profit a man though he gain the whole world, and lose his soul!"
"Ah, sir—you mean—?"
"I mean—the Lady Cleone, John. Losing her, I lose all, and success is worse than failure."
"But, sir,—must you lose her?"
"I fear so. Who am I that she should stoop to me among so many? Who am I to expect so great happiness?" ”

“ You also possess a tongue, perhaps, and can speak?"
"Given the occasion, madam," said Barnabas, smiling.
"Ha, sir! do I talk so much then? Well, perhaps I do, for when a woman ceases to talk she's dead, and I'm very much alive indeed. So you may give me your arm, sir, and listen to me, and drop an occasional remark while I take breath,—your arm, sir!" And here the small, ancient lady held out a small, imperious hand, while her handsome young eyes smiled up into his.
"Madam, you honor me!"
"But I am only an old woman,—with a wig!"
"Age is always honorable, madam." ”

“ Dear Heaven, how ridiculously happy I am, and I know my wig is all crooked. But—oh, my dears! you have found the most wonderful thing in all this wonderful universe. Riches, rank, fame—they are all good things, but the best, the greatest, the most blessed of all is—Love. For by love the weak are made strong, and the strong gentle—and Age itself—even mine—may be rejuvenated. I'm glad you preferred your own father to an adopted mother, dear Barnabas, even though she is a duchess—for that I must kiss you again—there! And so shall Cleone when I'm gone, so—I'll go. ”

“ Here the Duchess sighed tenderly. "Well, you came to see Cleone, you found her,—and nicely you behaved to each other when you met! Youth is always so dreadfully tragic! But then what would love be without a little tragedy? And oh—dear heaven!—how you must adore each other! Oh, Youth! Youth!—and there's Sir George Annersley—!"
"Then, madam, you must excuse me!" said Barnabas, glancing furtively from the approaching figures to the adjacent wall.
"Oh dear, no. Sir George is with Jerningharn and Major Piper, a heavy dragoon—the heaviest in all the world, I'm sure. You must meet them." ”

“ Yes, it will be very quiet, Bev—thank heaven!"
"The loneliness will pall, after a time, Dick—say a month. And the roses will fade and wither—as all things must, it seems," said Barnabas bitterly, whereupon the Viscount turned and looked at him and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
"Why, Bev," said he, "my dear old Bev,—what is it? You're greatly changed, I think; it isn't like you to be a cynic. You are my friend, but if you were my bitterest enemy I should forgive you, full and freely, because of your behavior to Clemency. My dear fellow, are you in any trouble—any danger? ”

“ But,—bruised, bleeding and torn, all mud from heel to head, and with a numbness in his brain Barnabas rides, stooped low in the saddle, for he is sick and very faint. His hat is gone, and the cool wind in his hair revives him somewhat, but the numbness remains. Yet it is as one in a dream that he finds his stirrups, and is vaguely conscious of voices about him—a thudding of hoofs and the creak of leather. As one in a dream he lifts "The Terror" to a fence that vanishes and gives place to a hedge which in turn is gone, or is magically transfigured into an ugly wall. ”

“ Therefore while youth yet abides, while the sun yet shines,—ride,
Barnabas, ride!
Now as he went, Barnabas presently espied a leafy by-lane, and across this lane a fence had been erected,—a high fence, but with a fair "take-off" and consequently, a most inviting fence. At this, forthwith, Barnabas rode, steadied Four-legs in his stride, touched him with the spur, and cleared it with a foot to spare. Then, all at once, he drew rein and paced over the dewy grass to where, beneath the hedge, was a solitary man who knelt before a fire of twigs fanning it to a blaze with his wide-eaved hat. ”

“ Thus, as he went, Barnabas kept his eyes bent thitherward, and his step was light and his heart sang within him for gladness, it was in the very air, and in the whole fair world was no space for care or sorrow, for his dreams were to be realized at a certain finger-post on the Hawkhurst road, on the stroke of nine. Therefore, as he strode along, being only human after all, Barnabas fell a whistling to himself under his breath. And his thoughts were all of Cleone, of the subtle charm of her voice, of the dimple in her chin, of her small, proud feet, and her thousand sly bewitchments ”

“ Stranger to London, sir?"
"Yes," said Barnabas.
"Ha! Bad place, London, sink of iniquity! Full of rogues, rascals, damn scoundrels,—by heaven, sharks, sir! confounded cannibals, by George!—eat you alive. Stranger myself, sir; just up from my little place in Worcestershire—King's Heath,—know it, perhaps? No? Charming village! rural, quiet; mossy trees, sir; winding brooks, larks and cuckoos carolling all day long. Sir, there has been a Smivvle at the Hall since before the Conquest! Fine old place, the Hall; ancient, sir, hoary and historic—though devilish draughty, upon my soul and honor!" ”

“ Then, as one in a dream, Peterby took up the money, counted it, buttoned it into his pocket, and crossed to the door; but there he paused and turned.
"Sir," said he slowly, "I'll bring you a man who, though he is little known as yet, will be famous some day, for he is what I may term an artist in cloth. And sir,"—here Peterby's voice grew uncertain—"you shall find me worthy of your trust, so help me God!" Then he opened the door, went out, and closed it softly behind him. But as for Barnabas, he sat with his gaze fixed on the ceiling again, lost in reverie and very silent. ”

“ An ancient, mossy wall it is, yet hideous for all that, an almost impossible jump, except in one place, a gap so narrow that but one may take it at a time. And who shall be first? The Marquis is losing ground rapidly—a foot—a yard—six! and losing still, races now a yard behind Barnabas. Thus, two by two, they thunder down upon the gap that is but wide enough for one. Slingsby is plying his whip, Carnaby is rowelling savagely, yet, neck and neck, the sorrel and the gray race for the jump, with Barnabas and the Marquis behind.
"Give way, Slingsby!" shouts Sir Mortimer. ”

“ And what horse should this be but Four-legs, his black coat glossy and shining in the sun, his great, round hoofs spurning the flying earth, all a-quiver with high courage, with life and the joy of it? And who should be the rider but young Barnabas?
He rides with his hat in his whip-hand, that he may feel the wind, and with never a look behind, for birds are carolling from the cool freshness of dewy wood and copse, in every hedge and tree the young sun has set a myriad gems flashing and sparkling; while, out of the green distance ahead, Love is calling ”

“ It was seldom his father mentioned to Barnabas the mother whose face he had never seen, upon which rare occasions John Barty's deep voice was wont to take on a hoarser note, and his blue eyes, that were usually so steady, would go wandering off until they fixed themselves on some remote object. Thus he sat now, leaning back in his elbow chair, gazing in rapt attention at the bell-mouthed blunderbuss above the mantel, while his son, chin on fist, stared always and ever to where the road dipped, and vanished over the hill—leading on and on to London, and the great world beyond. ”

“ And when he had thought as far as the Savoy he spoke:
"A gentleman," said he, "is a fellow who goes to a university, but doesn't have to learn anything; who goes out into the world, but doesn't have to—work at anything; and who has never been blackballed at any of the clubs. I've done a good many things in my time, but I've never had to work."
"That is a great pity!" sighed Barnabas.
"Oh! is it, b'gad! And why?"
"Because hard work ennobles a man," said Barnabas.
"Always heard it was a deuce of a bore!" ”

“ Who? Love? Now deuce take it, Beverley, how sudden you are!"
"Do you love her, Dick?"
"Love her—of course, yes—aren't we rivals? Love her, certainly, oh yes—ask my Roman parent!" And the Viscount frowned blackly, and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Why then," said Barnabas, "since you—honor me with your friendship, I feel constrained to tell you that she has given me to—to understand she will—marry me—some day."
"Eh? Oh! Marry you? The devil! Oh, has she though!" and hereupon the Viscount stared, whistled, and, in that moment, Barnabas saw that his frown had vanished. ”

“ Ah, sir! I know this London, I know those who make up the fashionable world. Sir, it is a heartless world, cruel and shallow, where inexperience is made a mock of—generosity laughed to scorn; where he is most respected who can shoot the straightest; where men seldom stoop to quarrel, but where death is frequent, none the less—and, sir, I could not bear—I—I wouldn't have you cut off thus—!"
Peterby stopped suddenly, and his head sank lower; but as he stood Barnabas rose, and coming to him, took his hand into his own firm clasp. ”

“ Barnabas choked.
"Mr. Chichester is my brother's friend."
"His enemy!"
"And poor Ronald is sick—"
"With brandy!"
"Oh—not that!" she cried sharply, "not that!"
"Didn't you know?"
"I only—dreaded it. His father—died of it. Oh, sir—oh, Barnabas! there is no one else who will help him—save him from—that! You will try, won't you?"
"Yes," said Barnabas, setting his jaw, "no one can help a man against his will, but I'll try. And I ask you to remember that if I succeed or not, I shall never expect any recompense from you, never!"
"Unless, Barnabas—" said Cleone, softly. ”

“ I am going—back, to the 'Coursing Hound.' And that reminds me—what of you, what are your plans for the future?"
"Sir," stammered Peterby, "I—I had ventured to—to hope that you might—take me with you, unless you wished to—to be rid of me—"
"Rid of you, John!" cried Barnabas, turning at last, "no—never. Why, man, I need you more than ever!"
"Sir," exclaimed Peterby, flushing suddenly, "do you—really mean that?"
"Yes, John—a thousand times, yes! For look you, as I have proved you the best valet in the world—so have I proved you a man, and it is the man I need now, because—I am a failure." ”

“ But before the words had well left his lips, Barnabas had sprang forward, and so they stood, hand clasped in hand, looking into each other's eyes as only true friends may.
"I—we—owe you so much, Bev—Clemency has told me—"
"Indeed, Dick," said Barnabas, a little hastily, "you are a fortunate man to have won the love of so beautiful a woman, and one so noble."
"My dear fellow," said the Viscount, very solemn, "it is so wonderful that, sometimes, I—almost fear that it can't be true."
"The love of a woman is generally a very uncertain thing!" ”

“ Consequently the future looms rather dark before me, John, and at such times a tried friend is a double blessing. So, come with me, John, and help me to face the future as a man should."
"Ah, sir," answered Peterby, with his sudden radiant smile, "darkness cannot endure, and if the future brings its sorrows, so must it bring its joys. Surely the future stands for hope and—I think—happiness!"
Now as he ended, Peterby raised one hand with forefinger outstretched; and, looking where he pointed, Barnabas beheld—the little shoe. But when he glanced up again, Peterby was gone. ”

“ Chichester seated himself upon the mouldering remains of an ancient wherry, and slipped one hand into the bosom of his coat.
"Sir," said he, leaning towards Barnabas, "you appear to be hurt, but you are not—dying, of course?"
"Dying!" repeated Barnabas, lifting a hand to his aching brow, "dying,—no."
"And yet, I fear you are," sighed Mr. Chichester, "yes, I think you will be most thoroughly dead before morning,—I do indeed." And he drew a pistol from his pocket, very much as though it were a snuff-box. ”

“ To the eyes of Barnabas, the beauty of the world about him served only to remind him of the beauty of her who was compounded of all things beautiful,—the One and Only Woman, whose hair was yellow like the ripening corn, whose eyes were deep and blue as the infinite heaven, whose lips were red as the poppies that bloomed beside the way, and whose body was warm with youth, and soft and white as the billowy clouds above. ”

“ 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?" ”

“ And presently, being come to the hospitable gates, he turned with bared head to look back at the two women, the one a childless mother, old and worn, yet wise with years, and the maid, strong and proud in all the glory of her warm, young womanhood. Side by side with arms entwined they stood, to watch young Barnabas, and in the eyes of each, an expression so much alike, yet so dissimilar. Then, with a flourish of his hat, Barnabas went on down the road, past the finger-post, with Milo of Crotona's small top-boots twinkling at his side. ”

“ But, sir, I went away despairing. Then I grew wild,—desperate—yes, desperate—oh, believe it, sir, and I,—I—Ah, sir—what won't a desperate woman do for one she loves? And so I—trod shameful ways! To-day I brought the twenty pounds, and now—dear God! now they say it must be twenty-three. Three pounds more, and I have no more—and I can't—Oh, I—can't go back to it again—the shame and horror—I—can't, sir!" So she covered her face again, and shook with the bitter passion of her woe.
And, after a while, Barnabas found voice, though his voice was very hoarse and uneven. ”

“ And, mayhap, in that hour you shall heed the voice, for time rings many changes; the proud are brought low, the humble exalted. Hush! the Wise Ones grow impatient for my song; I hear them calling from the trees, and must begone. But hearkee! they have told me your name, Barnabas? yes, yes; Barn—, Barnabas; for the other, no matter—mum for that! Barnabas, aha! that minds me—at Barnaby Bright we shall meet again, all three of us, under an orbed moon, at Barnaby Bright:—"
"Oh, Barnaby Bright, Barnaby Bright,
The sun's awake, and shines all night!" ”

“ Is it your misunderstanding with Viscount Devenham? I couldn't help but overhear, and—"
"Ah, yes—even the Viscount has quarrelled with me," sighed Barnabas, "next it will be the Marquis, I suppose, and after him—Gad, John Peterby—I shall have only you left!"
"Indeed, sir, you will always have me—always!"
"Yes, John, I think I shall."
"Sir, when you—gave a miserable wretch another chance to live and be a man, you were young and full of life." ”