"What, madam?"
"Oh, dear me, how frightfully dense you are, Barnabas!" she exclaimed, fumbling in her reticule. "What should it be but a letter, to be sure--Cleone's letter."
"A letter from Cleone! Oh, Duchess--"
"Here--take it. She wrote it last night--poor child didn't sleep a wink, I know, and--all on your account, sir. I promised I'd deliver it for her,--I mean the letter--that's why I made Bamborough bring me here. So you see I've kept my word as I always do--that is--sometimes. Oh, dear me, I'm so excited--about the race, I mean--and Cleone's so nervous--came and woke me long before dawn, and there were tears on her lashes--I know because I felt 'em when I kissed them--I mean her eyes. And Patten dressed me in such a hurry this morning--which was really my fault, and I know my wig's not straight--and there you stand staring at it as though you wanted to kiss it--I mean Cleone's letter, not my wig. That ridiculous Mr. Tressider told Cleone that it was the best course he ever hoped to ride over--meaning 'the worst' of course, so Cleone's quite wretched, dear lamb--but oh, Barnabas, it would be dreadful if-- if you were--killed--oh!" And the Duchess shivered and turned away.
"Would you mind? So much, madam?"
"Barnabas--I never had a son--or a daughter--but I think I know just how--your mother would be feeling--now!"
"And I do not remember my mother!" said Barnabas.
"Poor, poor Joan!" sighed the Duchess, very gently. "Were she here I think she would--but then she was much taller than I, and--oh, boy, stoop--stoop down, you great, tall Barnabas--how am I ever to reach you if you don't?"
Then Barnabas stooped his head, and the Duchess kissed him--even as his own mother might have done, and so, smiling a little tremulously, turned away. "There! Barnabas," she sighed. "And now--oh, I know you are dying to read your letter--of course you are, so pray sir,--go back and fetch my fan,--here it is, it will serve as an excuse, while I go on to look at the horses." And with a quick, smiling nod, she hurried away across the paddock after the others. Then Barnabas broke the seal of Cleone's letter, and--though to be sure it might have been longer--he found it all sufficient. Here it is:
The Palace Grange, Eltham, Midnight.
Ever Dearest,--The race is to-morrow and, because I love you greatly, so am I greatly afraid for you. And dear, I love you because you are so strong, and gentle, and honorable. And therefore, here on my knees I have prayed God to keep you ever in his care, my Barnabas.
CLEONE.
CHAPTER LIII
IN WHICH SHALL BE FOUND SOME ACCOUNT OF THE GENTLEMAN'S STEEPLECHASE
Truly it is a great day for "The Terror," hitherto known as "Four-legs," and well he knows it.
Behold him as he stands, with his velvet muzzle upon old Martin's shoulder, the while the under-grooms, his two-legged slaves, hover solicitously about him! Behold the proud arch of his powerful neck, the knowing gleam of his rolling eye, the satiny sheen of his velvet coat! See how he flings up his shapely head to snuff the balmy air of morning, the while he paws the green earth with a round, bepolished hoof.
Yes, indeed, it is a great day for "The Terror," and well he knows it.
"He looks very well, Martin!" says Barnabas.
"And 'e's better than 'e looks, sir!" nods Martin. "And they're laying thirty to one ag'in you, sir!"
"So much, Martin?"
"Ah, but it'll be backed down a bit afore you get to the post, I reckon, so I got my fifty guineas down on you a good hour ago."
"Why, Martin, do you mean you actually backed me--to win--for fifty guineas?"
"Why, y'see sir," said Martin apologetically, "fifty guineas is all I've got, sir!"
Now at this moment, Barnabas became aware of a very shiny glazed hat, which bobbed along, among other hats of all sorts and shapes, now hidden, now rising again--very like a cock-boat in a heavy sea; and, presently, sure enough, the Bo'sun hove into view, and bringing himself to an anchor, made a leg, touched the brim of his hat, and gripped the hand Barnabas extended.
"Mr. Beverley, sir," said he, "I first of all begs leave to say as, arter Master Horatio his Lordship, it's you as I'd be j'yful to see come into port first, or--as you might say--win this 'ere race. Therefore and wherefore I have laid five guineas on you, sir, by reason o' you being you, and the odds so long. Secondly, sir, I were to give you this here, sir, naming no names, but she says as you'd understand."
Hereupon the Bo'sun took off the glazed hat, inserted a hairy paw, and brought forth a single, red rose.
So Barnabas took the rose, and bowed his head above it, and straightway forgot the throng and bustle about him, and all things else, yea even the great race itself until, feeling a touch upon his arm, he turned to find the Earl of Bamborough beside him.
"He is very pale, Mr. Beverley!" said his Lordship, and, glancing whither he looked, Barnabas saw the Viscount who was already mounted upon his bay horse "Moonraker."
"Can you tell me, sir," pursued the Earl, "how serious his hurt really is?"
"I know that he was shot, my Lord," Barnabas answered, "and that he received a violent blow upon his wounded arm this morning, but he is very reticent."
Here the Viscount chanced to catch sight of them, and, with his groom at "Moonraker's" head, paced up to them.
"Viscount," said his Lordship, looking up at his son with wise, dark eyes, "your arm is troubling you, I see."
"Indeed, sir, it might be--a great deal worse."
"Still, you will be under a disadvantage, for it will be a punishing race for horse and man."
"Yes, sir."
"And--you will do your best, of course, Horatio?"
"Of course, sir."
"But--Horace, may I ask you to remember--that your father has--only one son?"
"Yes, sir,--and, father, may I tell you that--that thoughtless though he may be, he never forgets that--he _is_ your son!" Saying which the Viscount leaned down from his saddle, with his hand stretched out impulsively, and, this time, his father's clasp was very light and gentle. So the Earl bowed, and turning, walked away.
"He's--deuced Roman, of course, Bev," said the Viscount, staring hard after his father's upright figure, "but there are times when he's--rather more--than human!" And sighing, the Viscount nodded and rode off.
"Only ten minutes more, sir!" said Martin.
"Well, I'm ready, Martin," answered Barnabas, and, setting the rose in his breast very securely, he swung himself lightly into the saddle, and with the old groom at "The Terror's" head, paced slowly out of the paddock towards the starting post.
Here a great pavilion had been set up, an ornate contrivance of silk and gold cords, and gay with flags and bunting, above which floated the Royal Standard of England, and beneath which was seated no less ornate a personage than the First Gentleman in Europe--His Royal Highness the Prince Regent himself, surrounded by all that was fairest and bravest in the Fashionable and Sporting World. Before this pavilion the riders were being marshalled in line, a gallant sight in their scarlet coats, and, each and every, mounted upon a fiery animal every whit as high-bred as himself; which fact they manifested in many and divers ways, as--in rearing and plunging,