The Gables,
Hawkhurst.MY DEAR BARNABAS,--As Cleone's letter looks very
long (she sits opposite me at this precise moment writing
to you, and blushing very prettily over something her
pen has just scribbled--I can't quite see what, the table
is too wide), mine shall be short, that is, as short as
possible. Of course we are all disappointed not to have seen
you here since the race--that terrible race (poor, dear
Captain Slingsby,--how dreadful it was!) but of course,
it is quite right you should stay near the Viscount during
his illness. I rejoice to hear he is so much better. I am
having my town house, the one in Berkeley Square, put in
order, for Cleone has had quite enough of the country,
I think, so have I. Though indeed she seems perfectly
content (I mean Cleone) and is very fond of listening to the
brook. O Youth! O Romance! Well, I used to listen
to brooks once upon a time--before I took to a wig.
As for yourself now, Barnabas, the Marquis writes to
tell me that your cravats are 'all the thing,' and your
waistcoats 'all the go,' and that your new coat with the
opened cuff finds very many admirers. This is very well,
but since Society has taken you up and made a lion of you,
it will necessarily expect you to roar occasionally, just
to maintain your position. And there are many ways of
roaring, Barnabas. Brummell (whom I ever despised)
roared like an insolent cat--he was always very precise
and cat-like, and dreadfully insolent, but insolence palls,
after a while--even in Society. Indeed I might give you
many hints on Roaring, Barnabas, but--considering the
length of Cleone's letter, I will spare you more, nor even
give you any advice though I yearn to--only this: Be
yourself, Barnabas, in Society or out, so shall I always
subscribe myself:Your affectionate friend,

FANNY CAMBERHURST.

3 P.M.--I have opened this letter to tell you that
Mr. Chichester and Ronald called here and stayed an hour.
Ronald was full of his woes, as usual, so I left him to
Cleone, and kept Mr. Chichester dancing attendance on
me. And, oh dear me! to see the white rage of the
man! It was deliciously thrilling, and I shivered most
delightfully.

"You sent for me, sir?" said Peterby, as Barnabas re-folded the letter.

"Yes, John. Are you sure there is no other letter this morning from--from Hawkhurst?"

"Quite, sir."

"Yet the Duchess tells me that the Lady Cleone wrote me also. This letter came by the post this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"And no other? It's very strange!"

But here, the Gentleman-in-Powder re-appeared to say that the Marquis of Jerningham desired to see Mr. Beverley on a matter of importance, and that nobleman presenting himself, Peterby withdrew.

"Excuse this intrusion, my dear Beverley," said the Marquis as the door closed, "doocid early I know, but the--ah--the matter is pressing. First, though, how's Devenham, you saw him last night as usual, I suppose?"

"Yes," answered Barnabas, shaking hands, "he ought to be up and about again in a day or two."

"Excellent," nodded the Marquis, "I'll run over to Half-moon Street this afternoon. Is Bamborough with him still?"

"No, his Lordship left yesterday."

"Ha!" said the Marquis, and taking out his snuff-box, he looked at it, tapped it, and put it away again. "Poor old Sling," said he gently, "I miss him damnably, y'know, Beverley."

"Marquis," said Barnabas, "what is it?"