And so your name is Beverley, hum! Of the
Beverleys of Ashleydown? Yet, no,--that branch is extinct, I know. Pray
what branch are you? Why, here comes Sir Mortimer Carnaby,--heavens,
how handsome he is! And you thrashed him, I think? Oh, I know all
about it, sir, and I know--why!"
"Then," said Barnabas, somewhat taken aback, "you'll know he
deserved it, madam."
"Mm! Have you met him since?"
"No, indeed, nor have I any desire to!"
"Oh, but you must," said the Duchess, and catching Sir Mortimer's
gaze, she smiled and beckoned him, and next moment he was bowing
before her. "My dear Sir Mortimer," said she, "I don't think you are
acquainted with my friend, Mr. Beverley?"
"No," answered Sir Mortimer with a perfunctory glance at Barnabas.
"Ah! I thought not. Mr. Beverley--Sir Mortimer Carnaby."
"Honored, sir," said Sir Mortimer, as they bowed.
"Mr. Beverley is, I believe, an opponent of yours, Sir Mortimer?"
pursued the Duchess, with her placid smile.
"An opponent! indeed, your Grace?" said he, favoring Barnabas with
another careless glance.
"I mean--in the race, of course," smiled the Duchess. "But oh, happy
man! So you have been blessed also?"
"How, Duchess?"
"I see you wear Cleone's favor,--you've been admitted to the Order
of the Rose, like all the others.
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