In Which the Reader is Introduced to An Ancient Finger-Post

"The house would be very dark without you, Cleone."

"Dear, hold me tighter--now listen! There are times when I hate the
house, and the country, and--yes, even you. And at such times I grow
afraid of myself--hold me tighter!--at such times I long for
London--and--and--Ah, but you do love me, don't you?"

"Love you--my own lass!" The Captain's voice was very low, yet
eloquent with yearning tenderness; but even so, his quick ear had
caught a rustle in the hedge, and his sharp eye had seen Barnabas
standing in the shadow. "Who's that?" he demanded sharply.

"Why, indeed," says my lady, "I had forgotten him. 'Tis a friend of
yours, I think. Pray come out, Mr. Beverley."

"Beverley!" exclaimed the Captain. "Now sink me! what's all this?
Come out, sir,--I say come out and show yourself!"

So Barnabas stepped out from the hedge, and uncovering his head,
bowed low.

"Your very humble, obedient servant, sir," said he.

"Ha! by Thor and Odin, so it's you again, is it, sir? Pray, what
brings you still so far from the fashionable world? What d'ye want,
sir, eh, sir?"

"Briefly, sir," answered Barnabas, "your ward."

"Eh--what? what?" cried the Captain.

"Sir," returned Barnabas, "since you are the Lady Cleone's lawful
guardian, it is but right to tell you that I hope to marry her--some
day."

"Marry!" exclaimed the Captain. "Marry my--damme, sir, but you're
cool--I say cool and devilish impudent, and--and--oh, Gad, Cleone!"

"My dear," said she, smiling and stroking her tyrant's shaven cheek,
"why distress ourselves, we can always refuse him, can't we?"