"Yes, it's very dark," said Barnabas, "but it isn't far to the
landing--shall we go up?"
"Yes, but--" my lady hesitated a moment as one who takes breath for
some great effort, and, in that moment, he felt her bosom heave
beneath his hand. "Oh, Barnabas," she whispered, "won't you--kiss
me--first?"
Then Barnabas trembled in his turn, the arm about her grew suddenly
rigid and, when he spoke, his voice was harsh and strained.
"Madam," said he, "can the mere kiss of an--inn-keeper's son restore
your dead faith?"
Now when he had said this, Cleone shrank in his embrace and uttered
a loud cry as if he had offered her some great wrong, and, breaking
from him, was gone before him up the stair, running in the dark.
Oh, Youth! Oh, Pride!
So Barnabas hurried after her and thus, as she threw open
Barrymaine's door he entered with her and, in his sudden abasement,
would have knelt to her, but Ronald Barrymaine had sprung up from
the couch and now leaned there, staring with dazed eyes like one new
wakened from sleep.
"Ronald," she cried, running to him, "I came as soon as I could, but
I didn't understand your letter. You wrote of some great danger. Oh,
Ronald dear, what is it--this time?"
"D-danger!" he repeated, and with the word, turned to stare over his
shoulder into the dingiest corner: "d-danger, yes, so I am,--but
t-tell me who it is--behind me, in the corner?"
"No one, Ronald."
"Yes--yes there is, I tell you," he whispered, "look again--now,
d-don't you see him?"
"No, oh no!" answered Cleone, clasping her hands, and shrinking
before Barrymaine's wild and haggard look. "Oh, Ronald, there's--no
one there!"
"Yes there is, he's always there now--always just behind me. Last
night he began to talk to me--ah, no, no--what am I saying? never
heed me, Clo. I--I asked you to come because I'm g-going away, soon,
very s-soon, Clo, and I know I shall n-never see you again. I suppose
you thought it was m-money I wanted, but no--it's not that, I wanted
to say good-by because you see I'm g-going away--to-night!"
"Going away, Ronald?" she repeated, sinking to her knees beside the
rickety couch, for he had fallen back there as though overcome by
sudden weakness. "Dear boy, where are you going--and why?"
"I'm g-going far away--because I must--the s-sooner the better!" he
whispered, struggling to his elbow to peer into the corner again.
"Yes, the s-sooner the better. But, before I go I want you to
promise--to swear, Clo--to s-swear to me--" Barrymaine sat up
suddenly and, laying his nervous hands upon her shoulders, leaned
down to her in fierce eagerness, "You must s-swear to me n-never to
see or have anything to do with that d-devil, Chichester, d' ye hear
me, Clo, d' ye hear me?"