"Gracious heavens--he's actually up--and dressed! Oh Lud, Barnabas,
what does this mean?"
Barnabas started and turned to find the Duchess regarding him from
the doorway and, though her voice was sharp, her eyes were
wonderfully gentle, and she had stretched out her hands to him.
Therefore he crossed the room a little unsteadily, and taking those
small hands in his, bent his head and kissed them reverently.
"It means that, thanks to you, Duchess, I am well again and--"
"And as pale as a goblin--no, I mean a ghost--trying to catch his
death of cold at an open window too--I mean you, not the ghost! And
as weak as--as a rabbit, and--oh, dear me, I can't shut it--the
casement--drat it! Thank you, Barnabas. Dear heaven, I am so
flurried--and even your boots on too! Let me sit down. Lud,
Barnabas--how thin you are!"
"But strong enough to go on my way--"
"Way? What way? Which way?"
"Home, Duchess."
"Home, home indeed? You are home--this is your home. Ashleydown is
yours now."
"Yes," nodded Barnabas, "I suppose it is, but I shall never live here,
I leave today. I am going home, but before I--"
"Home? What home--which home?"
"But before I do, I would thank you if I could, but how may I thank
you for all your motherly care of me? Indeed, dear Duchess, I cannot,
and yet--if words can--"
"Pho!" exclaimed the Duchess, knitting her brows at him, but with
eyes still ineffably soft and tender, "what do you mean by 'home,'
pray?"
"I am going back to my father and Natty Bell."
"And to--that inn?"
"Yes, Duchess. You see, there is not, there never was, there never
shall be quite such another inn as the old 'Hound.'"
"And you--actually mean to--live there?"
"Yes, for a time, but--"
"Ha--a publican!" exclaimed the Duchess and positively sniffed,
though only as a really great lady may.
"--there is a farm near by, I shall probably--"
"Ha--a farmer!" snorted the Duchess.
"--raise horses, madam, and with Natty Bell's assistance I hope--"
"Horses!" cried the Duchess, and sniffed again. "Horses, indeed!
Absurd! Preposterous! Quite ridiculous--hush, sir! I have some
questions to ask you."
"Well, Duchess?"
"Firstly, sir, what of your dreams? What of London? What of Society?"
"They were--only dreams," answered Barnabas; "in place of them I
shall have--my father and Natty Bell."
"Secondly, sir,--what of your fine ambitions?"
"It will be my ambition, henceforth, to breed good horses, madam."
"Thirdly, sir,--what of your money?"
"I shall hope to spend it to much better purpose in the country than
in the World of Fashion, Duchess."
"Oh Lud, Barnabas,--what a selfish creature you are!"
"Selfish, madam?"
"A perfect--wretch!"
"Wretch?" said Barnabas, staring.