And I ask you to remember that if I
succeed or not, I shall never expect any recompense from you, never!"
"Unless, Barnabas--" said Cleone, softly.
"Unless--oh, Cleone, unless you should--some day learn to--love
me--just a little, Cleone?"
"Would--just a little, satisfy you?"
"No," said Barnabas, "no, I want you all--all--all. Oh, Cleone, will
you marry me?"
"You are very persistent, sir, and I must go."
"Not yet,--pray not yet."
"Please, Barnabas. I would not care to see Mr. Chichester--to-night."
"No," sighed Barnabas, "you must go. But first,--will you--?"
"Not again, Barnabas!" And she gave him her two hands. So he stopped
and kissed them instead. Then she turned and left him standing
bareheaded under the finger-post. But when she had gone but a little
way she paused and spoke to him over her shoulder:
"Will you--write to me--sometimes?"
"Oh--may I?"
"Please, Barnabas,--to tell me of--my brother."
"And when can I see you again?"
"Ah! who can tell?" she answered. And so, smiling a little, blushing
a little, she hastened away.
Now, when she was gone, Barnabas stooped, very reverently, and
pressed his lips to the ancient finger-post, on that spot where her
head had rested, and sighed, and turned towards his great, black
horse.
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