The Amateur Gentleman Part 8

"Oh, indeed, sir!" she mocked, secure behind her leafy screen, nodding her head at his unconscious back; "so you've actually thought better of it, have you?"

Here Barnabas turned.

"Really, sir, you will even trouble to come all the way back, will you, just to learn her name--or, perhaps to--indeed, what condescension. But, dear sir, you're too late; oh, yes, indeed you are! 'for he who will not when he may, when he will he shall have nay.'

I grieve to say you are too late--quite too late! Good morning, Master s.h.i.+ll-I-shall-I." And with the word she turned, then hastily drew a certain lace handkerchief from her bosom, and set it very cleverly among the thorns of a bramble, and so sped away among the leaves.

CHAPTER VII

IN WHICH MAY BE FOUND DIVERS RULES AND MAXIMS FOR THE ART OF BOWING

"Now, by the Lord!" said Barnabas, stopping all at once, "forgetful fool that I am! I never bowed to her!" Therefore, being minded to repair so grave an omission, he turned sharp about, and came striding back again, and thus it befell that he presently espied the lace handkerchief fluttering from the bramble, and having extricated the delicate lace from the naturally reluctant thorns with a vast degree of care and trouble, he began to look about for the late owner.

But search how he might, his efforts proved unavailing--Annersley Wood was empty save for himself. Having satisfied himself of the fact, Barnabas sighed again, thrust the handkerchief into his pocket, and once more set off upon his way.

But now, as he went, he must needs remember his awkward stiffness when she had thanked him; he grew hot all over at the mere recollection, and, moreover, he had forgotten even to bow! But there again, was he quite sure that he could bow as a gentleman should?

There were doubtless certain rules and maxims for the bow as there were for mathematics--various motions to be observed in the making of it, of which Barnabas confessed to himself his utter ignorance.

What then was a bow? Hereupon, bethinking him of the book in his pocket, he drew it out, and turning to a certain page, began to study the "stiff-legged-gentleman" with a new and enthralled interest.

Now over against this gentleman, that is to say, on the opposite page, he read these words:--

"THE ART OF BOWING."

"To know how, and when, and to whom to bow, is in itself an art. The bow is, indeed, an all-important accomplishment,--it is the 'Open Sesame' of the 'Polite World.' To bow gracefully, therefore, may be regarded as the most important part of a gentlemanly deportment."

"Hum!" said Barnabas, beginning to frown at this; and yet, according to the t.i.tle-page, these were the words of a "Person of Quality."

"To bow gracefully,"--the Person of Quality chattered on,--"the feet should be primarily disposed as in the first position of dancing."

Barnabas sighed, frowning still.

"The left hand should be lifted airily and laid upon the bosom, the fingers kept elegantly spread.

The head is now stooped forward, the body following easily from the hips, the right hand, at the same moment, being waved gracefully in the air. It is, moreover, very necessary that the expression of the features should a.s.sume as engaging an air as possible.

The depth of the bow is to be regulated to the rank of the person saluted."

And so forth and so on for two pages more.

Barnabas sighed and shook his head hopelessly.

"Ah!" said he, "under these circ.u.mstances it is perhaps just as well that I forgot to try. It would seem I should have bungled it quite shamefully. Who would have thought a thing so simple could become a thing so very complicated!" Saying which, he shut the book, and thrust it back into his pocket, and thus became aware of a certain very small handful of dainty lace and cambric, and took it out, and, looking at it, beheld again the diminutive stain, while there stole to his nostrils a perfume, faint and very sweet.

"I wonder," said he to himself. "I wonder who she was--I might have asked her name but, fool that I am, I even forgot that!"

Here Barnabas sighed, and, sighing, hid the handkerchief in his pocket.

"And yet," he pursued, "had she told me her name, I should have been compelled to announce mine, and--Barnabas Barty--hum! somehow there is no suggestion about it of broad acres, or knightly ancestors; no, Barty will never do." Here Barnabas became very thoughtful.

"Mortimer sounds better," said he, after a while, "or Mandeville.

Then there's Neville, and Desborough, and Ravenswood--all very good names, and yet none of them seems quite suitable. Still I must have a name that is beyond all question!" And Barnabas walked on more thoughtful than ever. All at once he stopped, and clapped hand to thigh.

"My mother's name, of course--Beverley; yes, it is an excellent name, and, since it was hers, I have more right to it than to any other.

So Beverley it shall be--Barnabas Beverley--good!" Here Barnabas stopped and very gravely lifted his hat to his shadow.

"Mr. Beverley," said he, "I salute you, your very humble obedient servant, Mr. Beverley, sir, G.o.d keep you!" Hereupon he put on his hat again, and fell into his swinging stride.

"So," said he, "that point being settled it remains to master the intricacies of the bow." Saying which, he once more had recourse to the "priceless wollum," and walked on through the glory of the morning, with his eyes upon the valuable instructions of the "Person of Quality."

Now, as he went, chancing to look up suddenly, he beheld a gate-post.

A very ancient gate-post it was--a decrepit gate-post, worn and heavy with years, for it leaned far out from the perpendicular. And with his gaze upon this, Barnabas halted suddenly, clapped the book to his bosom, and raising his hat with an elegant flourish, bowed to that gnarled and withered piece of timber as though it had been an Archduke at the very least, or the loveliest lady in the land.

"Ha! by Thor and Odin, what's all this?" cried a voice behind him.

"I say what the devil's all this?"

Turning sharp about, Barnabas beheld a shortish, broad-shouldered individual in a befrogged surtout and cords, something the worse for wear, who stood with his booted legs wide apart and stared at him from a handsome bronzed face, with a pair of round blue eyes; he held a broad-brimmed hat in his hand--the other, Barnabas noticed, was gone from the elbow.

"Egad!" said he, staring at Barnabas with his blue eyes. "What's in the wind? I say, what the devil, sir--eh, sir?"

Forthwith Barnabas beamed upon him, and swept him another bow almost as low as that he had bestowed upon the gate-post.

"Sir," said he, hat gracefully flourished in the air, "your very humble obedient servant to command."

"A humble obedient fiddlestick, sir!" retorted the new comer.

"Pooh, sir!--I say dammit!--are ye mad, sir, to go bowing and sc.r.a.ping to a gate-post, as though it were an Admiral of the Fleet or Nelson himself--are ye mad or only drunk, sir? I say, what d' ye mean?"

Here Barnabas put on his hat and opened the book.

"Plainly, sir," he answered, "being overcome with a sudden desire to bow to something or other, I bowed to that gate-post in want of a worthier object; but now, seeing you arrive so very opportunely, I'll take the liberty of trying another. Oblige me by observing if my expression is sufficiently engaging," and with the words Barnabas bowed as elaborately as before.

"Sink me!" exclaimed the one-armed individual, rounder of eye than ever, "the fellow's mad--stark, staring mad."

"No, indeed, sir," smiled Barnabas, rea.s.suringly, "but the book here--which I am given to understand is wholly infallible--says that to bow is the most important item of a gentlemanly equipment, and in the World of Fas.h.i.+on--"

"In the World of Fas.h.i.+on, sir, there are no gentlemen left," his hearer broke in.

"How, sir--?"

"I say no, sir, no one. I say, damme, sir--"

"But, sir--"

"I say there are no gentlemen in the fas.h.i.+onable world--they are all blackguardly Bucks, cursed Corinthians, and mincing Macaronies nowadays, sir. Fas.h.i.+onable world--bah, sir!"

"But, sir, is not the Prince himself--"

"The Prince, sir!" Here the one-armed gentleman clapped on his hat and snorted, "The Prince is a--prince, sir; he's also an authority on sauce and shoe-buckles. Let us talk of something more interesting--yourself, for instance."

Barnabas bowed.

"Sir," said he, "my name is Barnabas--Barnabas Beverley."