"Crude, yes, and very coarse, but, as I said before, he is
young--what, are you going?"
"Yes--no. Pray find my guardian and bring him to me."
"First, tell me I may see you again, Cleone, before I leave for
London?"
"Yes," said Cleone, after a momentary hesitation.
Thereafter came the tread of Mr. Chichester's feet upon the gravel,
soft and deliberate, like his voice.
Then Barnabas sighed, a long, bitter sigh, and looking up--saw
Cleone standing before him.
"Ah, dear Godmother!" said she lightly, "I hope your Grace was able
to hear well?"
"Perfectly, my dear, thank you--every word," nodded the Duchess,
"though twice Mr. Beverley nearly spoilt it all. I had to hold him
dreadfully tight,--see how I've crumpled his beautiful cravat.
Dear me, how impetuous you are, sir! As for you, Cleone, sit down,
my dear,--that's it!--positively I'm proud of you,--kiss me,--I mean
about the roses. It was vastly clever! You are myself over again."
"Your Grace honors me!" said Cleone, her eyes demure, but with a
dimple at the corner of her red mouth.
"And I congratulate you. I was a great success--in my day. Ah me!
I remember seeing you--an hour after you were born.
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