"I wonder," said he to himself. "I wonder who she was--I might have
asked her name but, fool that I am, I even forgot that!"
Here Barnabas sighed, and, sighing, hid the handkerchief in his
pocket.
"And yet," he pursued, "had she told me her name, I should have been
compelled to announce mine, and--Barnabas Barty--hum! somehow there
is no suggestion about it of broad acres, or knightly ancestors; no,
Barty will never do." Here Barnabas became very thoughtful.
"Mortimer sounds better," said he, after a while, "or Mandeville.
Then there's Neville, and Desborough, and Ravenswood--all very good
names, and yet none of them seems quite suitable. Still I must have
a name that is beyond all question!" And Barnabas walked on more
thoughtful than ever. All at once he stopped, and clapped hand to
thigh.
"My mother's name, of course--Beverley; yes, it is an excellent name,
and, since it was hers, I have more right to it than to any other.
So Beverley it shall be--Barnabas Beverley--good!" Here Barnabas
stopped and very gravely lifted his hat to his shadow.
"Mr. Beverley," said he, "I salute you, your very humble obedient
servant, Mr. Beverley, sir, God keep you!" Hereupon he put on his
hat again, and fell into his swinging stride.
"So," said he, "that point being settled it remains to master the
intricacies of the bow." Saying which, he once more had recourse to
the "priceless wollum," and walked on through the glory of the
morning, with his eyes upon the valuable instructions of the
"Person of Quality."
Now, as he went, chancing to look up suddenly, he beheld a gate-post.
A very ancient gate-post it was--a decrepit gate-post, worn and
heavy with years, for it leaned far out from the perpendicular. And
with his gaze upon this, Barnabas halted suddenly, clapped the book
to his bosom, and raising his hat with an elegant flourish, bowed to
that gnarled and withered piece of timber as though it had been an
Archduke at the very least, or the loveliest lady in the land.
"Ha! by Thor and Odin, what's all this?" cried a voice behind him.
"I say what the devil's all this?"
Turning sharp about, Barnabas beheld a shortish, broad-shouldered
individual in a befrogged surtout and cords, something the worse for
wear, who stood with his booted legs wide apart and stared at him
from a handsome bronzed face, with a pair of round blue eyes; he
held a broad-brimmed hat in his hand--the other, Barnabas noticed,
was gone from the elbow.
"Egad!" said he, staring at Barnabas with his blue eyes. "What's in
the wind? I say, what the devil, sir--eh, sir?"
Forthwith Barnabas beamed upon him, and swept him another bow almost
as low as that he had bestowed upon the gate-post.