The Amateur Gentleman by Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

So towards the stables they set forth accordingly, the Duchess and Barnabas well to the rear, for, be it remarked, she walked very slowly.

"Here it is, Barnabas," said she, as soon as the others were out of ear-shot.

"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:

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.