"
"Sir--" began Mr. Smivvle, but his voice failing him he turned away
and crossing to the window stood there apparently lost in
contemplation of the glory of the morning.
"You will let me know how you get on, from time to time?" inquired
Barnabas.
"Sir," stammered Mr. Smivvle, "sir--oh, Beverley, I can't thank
you--I cannot, but--if I live, you shall find I don't forget and--"
"Hush! I think a door creaked somewhere!" said Barnabas, almost in a
tone of relief.
In an instant Mr. Smivvle had possessed himself of his shabby hat
and was astride of the window-sill. Yet there he paused to reach out
his hand, and now Barnabas might see a great tear that crept upon
his cheek--as bright, as glorious as any jewel.
"Good-by, Beverley!" he whispered as their hands met, "good-by, and
I shall never forget--never!"
So saying, he nodded, sighed and, swinging himself over the
window-ledge, lowered himself from sight.
But, standing there at the casement, Barnabas watched him presently
stride away towards a new world, upright of figure and with head
carried high like one who is full of confident purpose.
Being come to the end of the drive he turned, flourished his shabby
hat and so was gone.
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