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Updated: May 19, 2025
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.
All at once she looked up, laughed and shook her head, and, closing her fan, pointed with it towards the distant house, laughing still, but imperious. Hereupon the Marquis rose, albeit unwillingly, and bowing, hurried off to obey her behest. Then Cleone rose also, and turning, went on slowly toward the arbor, with head drooping as one in thought.
Two letters had he written her, the first a humble supplication, the second an angry demand couched in terms of bitter reproach. Yet Cleone gave no sign; and the days passed.
Before him was a shady walk winding between clipped yews, and, following this, Barnabas presently espied a small arbor some distance away. Now between him and this arbor was a place where four paths met, and where stood an ancient sun-dial with quaintly carved seats. And here, the sun making a glory of her wondrous hair, was my Lady Cleone, with the Marquis of Jerningham beside her.
Then, looking where he pointed, Barnabas read these words, very neatly set down: MY DEAR BARRYMAINE, I rather suspect Beverley will not ride in the race on the Fifteenth. Just now he is at Hawkhurst visiting Cleone! He is with your sister! If you are still in the same mind about a certain project, no place were better suited.
Hence, the Fashionable World appointed and set apart a day whereon, with all due pomp and solemnity, to eat and drink to the glory and honor of Barnabas Beverley, Esquire. Yet even this was accepted in all good faith, and consequently pale checks and a romantic gloom became the mode. No, indeed, Barnabas was not happy, since needs must he think ever of Cleone.
D'you know he's a publican's son? a vile, low fellow masquerading as a g-gentleman? Yes, he's a p-publican's son, I tell you!" he repeated, seeing how she shrank at this. "And you s-stoop to such as he s-stoop to meet him in s-such a place as this! So I came to save you f-from yourself!" "Did you, Ronald?" "Yes but oh, Cleone, you don't love the fellow, do you?" "I think I hate him, Ronald."
Langton, when a very young man, read Dodsley's Cleone, a Tragedy, to him, not aware of his extreme impatience to be read to. As it went on he turned his face to the back of his chair, and put himself into various attitudes, which marked his uneasiness. At the end of an act, however, he said, "Come let's have some more, let's go into the slaughter-house again, Lanky.
Then all at once came a rustle of parting leaves, the flutter of flying draperies, and Cleone had fled to that drooping, disconsolate figure, had wreathed her protecting arms about it, and so all moans, and sobs, and little tender cries, had drawn her tyrant's head down upon her gentle bosom and clasped it there.
And then he is such a doubting Jonah no, I mean Thomas, of course, still he's not quite a fool I mean Barnabas, not Thomas, who was anything but a fool. Ah! not my hand, dear Barnabas, I still have lips, though I do wear a wig there, sir. Now you, Cleone. Dear Heaven, how ridiculously bright your eyes are, child. But it's just as well, you must look your best to-night.
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