"Until we meet again, Captain."
"Eh--what, sir? meet when?"
"At 'Barnaby Bright,'" says my lady, staring up at the moon.
"In a month's time," added Barnabas.
"Eh?" exclaimed the Captain, "what's all this?"
"In a month's time, sir, I shall return to ask Cleone to be my wife,"
Barnabas explained.
"And," said my lady, smiling at the Captain's perplexity, "we shall
be glad to see him, shan't we, dear? and shall, of course, refuse him,
shan't we, dear?"
"Refuse him? yes--no--egad! I don't know," said the Captain, running
his fingers through his hair, "I say, deuce take me--I'm adrift; I
say where's the Bo'sun?"
"Good-by, sir!" says my lady, very seriously, and gave him her hand;
"good-by."
"Till 'Barnaby Bright,'" said Barnabas.
At this she smiled, a little tremulously perhaps.
"May heaven prosper you in your mission," said she, and turned away.
"Young sir," said the Captain, "always remember my name is Chumly,
John Chumly, plain and unvarnished, and, whether we refuse you or not,
John Chumly will ever be ready to take you by the hand. Farewell, sir!"
So tyrant and captive turned away and went down the by-road together,
and his solitary arm was close about her. But Barnabas stood there
under the finger-post until a bend in the road hid them; then he, too,
sighed and turned away. Yet he had gone only a little distance when
he heard a voice calling him, and, swinging round, he saw Cleone
standing under the finger-post.
"I wanted to give you--this," said she, as he came striding back,
and held out a folded paper. "It is his--my brother's--letter. Take
it with you, it will serve to show you what a boy he is, and will
tell you where to find him."
So Barnabas took the letter and thrust it into his pocket. But she
yet stood before him, and now, once again, their glances avoided
each other.
"I also wanted to--ask you--about your cheek," said she at last.
"Yes?" said Barnabas.
"You are quite sure it doesn't--pain you, Mr. Bev--"
"Must I remind you that my name--"
"Are you quite sure--Barnabas?"
"Quite sure--yes, oh yes!" he stammered.
"Because it--glows very red!" she sighed, though indeed she still
kept her gaze averted, "so will you please--stoop your head a little?"
Wonderingly Barnabas obeyed, and then--even as he did so, she leaned
swiftly towards him, and for an instant her soft, warm mouth rested
upon his cheek. Then, before he could stay her, she was off and away;
and her flying feet had borne her out of sight.
Then Barnabas sighed, and would have followed, but the ancient
finger-post barred his way with its two arms pointing:-TO HAWKHURST. TO LONDON.
So he stopped, glanced about him to fix the hallowed place in his
memory, and, obeying the directing finger, set off London-wards.