"I wonder," said he to himself. "I wonder who she was--I might have
asked her name but, fool that I am, I even forgot that!"
Here Barnabas sighed, and, sighing, hid the handkerchief in his
pocket.
"And yet," he pursued, "had she told me her name, I should have been
compelled to announce mine, and--Barnabas Barty--hum! somehow there
is no suggestion about it of broad acres, or knightly ancestors; no,
Barty will never do." Here Barnabas became very thoughtful.
"Mortimer sounds better," said he, after a while, "or Mandeville.
Then there's Neville, and Desborough, and Ravenswood--all very good
names, and yet none of them seems quite suitable. Still I must have
a name that is beyond all question!" And Barnabas walked on more
thoughtful than ever. All at once he stopped, and clapped hand to
thigh.
"My mother's name, of course--Beverley; yes, it is an excellent name,
and, since it was hers, I have more right to it than to any other.
So Beverley it shall be--Barnabas Beverley--good!" Here Barnabas
stopped and very gravely lifted his hat to his shadow.
"Mr. Beverley," said he, "I salute you, your very humble obedient
servant, Mr.
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