"He's a devil, I tell you
he's a d-devil, oh--" Barrymaine choked and fell back gasping; but,
even as Cleone leaned above him all tender solicitude, he pushed her
aside and, springing to his feet, reached out and caught Barnabas by
the arm. "Beverley," he cried, "you'll shield her from him--w-when
I'm gone, you'll l-look after her, won't you, Beverley? She's the
only thing I ever loved--except my accursed self. You will shield
her from--that d-devil!"
Then, still clutching Barnabas, he turned and seized Cleone's hands.
"Clo!" he cried, "dearest of sisters, if ever you need a f-friend
when I'm gone, he's here. Turn to him, Clo--look up--give him your
hand. Y-you loved him once, I think, and you were right--quite
r-right. You can t-trust Beverley, Clo--g-give him your hand."
"No, no!" cried Cleone, and, snatching her fingers from Barrymaine's
clasp, she turned away.
"What--you w-won't?"
"No--never, never!"
"Why not? Answer me! Speak, I tell you!"
But Cleone knelt there beside the couch, her head proudly averted,
uttering no word.
"Why, you don't think, like so many of the fools, that he killed
Jasper Gaunt, do you?" cried Barrymaine feverishly.
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