"Well, Isabel," said Neil, in an undertone, as his father was loudly
debating with Sir Cheltnam some vital question in which bits, bridles,
and surcingles were mentioned again and again.
"Well, Neil, dear," said the girl archly; "why do you keep looking out
of the window? It is not Saxa's time yet."
"Thank goodness!" he said to himself. Then aloud: "Facetious this
morning, eh? Two can play at that, as we used to say when I was at
home. Which is it to be--Sir Cheltnam or the sailor boy?" The arch
expression passed away from Isabel's countenance on the instant. She
gave a frightened glance round the table, as if dreading that the
brother's words had been overheard, and then, bending down over her cup,
she whispered:
"Don't, please, Neil, dear. You hurt me when you talk like that."
"Then you do care for Beck?" he said in a sharp whisper.
"I--I don't know," she faltered.
"Well, you know that he cares for you?"
She gave him a piteous look.
"And you know, too, that he is going to speak to your father this
morning?"
"O Neil, dear, he must not," whispered the girl, in an agony of fear.
"But he must if he means to win you. I advised him to do so."
Isabel caught hold of the cloth below the level of the table and glanced
wildly at Beck, but he could not interpret the meaning of the look, and
replied to it with one full of hope.
The little party rose from the table soon after and fate favoured the
sailor by giving him the opportunity he sought--Mr Elthorne crossing
the hall to the library, while the others went out on to the lawn.
"Eh! Want to speak to me, Beck?" said Mr Elthorne. "Come in here."
He closed the door after the young officer, and pointed to a chair.
"Sit down, my lad," he said pleasantly. "Now I'll be bound to say I can
guess what you are about to say."
"You can, sir?" said Beck eagerly.
"I think so," said Mr Elthorne, with rather a set smile on his lips.
"You were going to tell me that you have to start for the East in a very
few days--am I right so far?"
"Yes, sir, quite."
"And that, as I have known you from a boy, you felt that without
hesitation you might speak to me and not trouble your father. Still
right?"
"Yes, sir--I think so."
"I felt it at once," said Mr Elthorne nodding. "Well, yes, my lad, I
will try and oblige you. How much do you want?"
"Want? How much?" cried the young man, starting up with his face
flushing. "Did you think I wanted to borrow money, sir?"
"Yes, my lad, of course."
"Oh, no, sir," he cried; and, excited now by his position, he somewhat
blunderingly, but with manly frankness, told how long he had loved
Isabel, and asked for a sanction to his engagement.
Mr Elthorne heard him in silence to the end, and then said briefly:
"Impossible."
"Impossible, sir?"
"Quite, my lad. It is all a boy and a girl piece of nonsense. Yes; you
two have known each other from children, been playfellows and the like,
but I could never sanction my child's marriage to one who leads such a
life as yours."
"But, Mr Elthorne--"
"Hear me out, my lad. I tell you frankly, I like you and always did as
a boy and the friend of my sons, but as my prospective son-in-law, once
for all, it is impossible."
"Mr Elthorne!" cried the young man appealingly.
"No, my lad, no; so give up all thought of it at once. Isabel will
leave home one of these days, but not with you. You are not the man.
Do you ride with us this morning?"
Beck did not answer for the moment, for he was half stunned, but an
angry flush came into his cheeks just then, for Sir Cheltnam's voice was
heard through the open window. There was the cause of his rejection, he
felt sure, and, full of resentment and the feeling that Mr Elthorne had
not treated him well, he replied sharply:
"Yes, sir, I shall go with the party this morning, and if I tell you
that I cannot give up my hopes--"
"Ah, well," said Mr Elthorne sharply, "you will think differently, I
dare say, after the first smart of the disappointment has worn off."
"Ready, father?" came from the window.
"Yes. Have they got the horse round?"
"All right. Burwood is going to try him over a fence or two before we
start."
"I'll come," said Mr Elthorne. "You like horses, Beck; come and see
the leaping."
Beck followed mechanically, cut to the heart by the half-contemptuous,
cold-blooded way in which his aspirations were treated, and in a few
minutes he stood with the others looking at the noble looking animal
held by a groom, while Sir Cheltnam examined him after the fashion of a
dealer, and then mounted.
"I'll trot him across the park and take the hedge, and the fence as I
come back. Thick in his breathing, you think?"
"Yes, I thought so," said Mr Elthorne.
"Well, we shall soon know, and if he is, I'd make them take him back."
Sir Cheltnam mounted and went off at a sharp trot for some hundred
yards, curved round full into sight, and, increasing his pace, came
toward them at a good swinging gallop, rose at a hedge, cleared it well,
and then pressed the horse on toward a stiffish fence, which it also
cleared capitally, and cantered back to the waiting party, where Sir
Cheltnam pulled up and leaped down.
"I can detect nothing," he said.
"You did not take him far enough to prove it," said Mr Elthorne
shortly. "I'll canter him down to the far hedge and back."
As he approached the horse, there was the trampling of other hoofs, the
groom and helper bringing round the horses ordered for the morning ride,
while just seen in the distance over the hedge which ran along by the
road were the heads of the sisters coming over to join in the excursion.
The next minute Mr Elthorne was in the saddle, and the horse sprang
forward at a touch.
"Your father rides well, Elthorne," said Sir Cheltnam. "Capital seat
for so heavy a man."
"Hasn't followed hounds thirty years for nothing," replied Alison. "I
say," he shouted; "better take that lower down."
For, reversing the baronet's process, Mr Elthorne directed his course
straight for the fence, and was apparently about to take it at rather an
awkward spot.
"He can't hear you, man," said Sir Cheltnam; "but he knows what he is
about. Ah, here is your sister. I say, keep that Beck along with you
this morning: he monopolised her entirely the other day." Alison did
not heed his words, but started forward with a cry, just as Neil and
Beck also made a rush for the spot.
Only a few minutes before, The Don had risen and cleared the fence with
the greatest ease. This time, possibly from some bad management on the
part of his rider, he rushed at it so clumsily that horse and man came
down together with a crash; and as Neil, who was nearest, dashed
forward, he could see that his father was beneath the horse, which was
plunging violently in its attempts to rise, and fell back twice,
crushing his rider, before he could regain his feet.