Mark and Jane started apart, looking extremely guilty--of a loving
kiss--but quite ready to make the best of things, the latter darting to
the table to rearrange the position of a couple of forks, and Sir
Hilton's body-servant holding out a hand, palm upwards.
"Do look sharp, Jane," he said, "and hurry up that hot coffee and the
kidneys. I knew Sir Hilton would be down directly."
"Mark!" said the baronet, sharply.
"Yes, Sir Hilton."
"You know I don't like humbug, eh?"
"Yes, Sir Hilton?"
"Jane, my girl, do you want to lose your place?"
"No, Sir Hilton. I'm very sorry, Sir Hilton--I--"
"Let him kiss you?"
"Oh, Sir Hilton!"
"Don't deny it! Saw more. You gave him one. Now, look here, both of
you. You, Jane, are a very nice, respectable girl, and I like you.
Mark, here, is a very good fellow, and if some time you two think of
getting married, I don't say I will not give you both a hundred pounds
to start life with--"
"Oh, Sir Hilton!"
"If I've got it. But no more of this. It looks bad, and is not
respectful to your employers. You both know, I suppose, that if her
ladyship saw half what I noted just now you would be dismissed, Jane,
and I'm afraid, Mark, I should have to part with you."
"I beg--"
"That will do--not another word. Breakfast, Jane--quick, please."
"Yes, Sir Hilton!" and Jane drew a breath full of relief, as she hurried
through the door.
"Heigh--ho--ha--hum!" yawned the baronet, placing his hands in his
pockets and looking down in a dreamy way at the breakfast-table. Then
he took out and opened his hunting watch, and closed it with a snap.
"E-lev-en o'clock," he said. "Her ladyship send for you, Mark?"
"Yes, Sir Hilton. Brought round the pony-carriage."
"Oh! Gone out?"
"Yes, Sir Hilton."
"What are you waiting for?"
"Morning's paper, Sir Hilton," said the man, obsequiously, as he drew a
sporting-print from his pocket and held it out meaningly turned down at
a particular spot.
"What's that?" said the baronet, glancing at one line, and then, turning
angrily, "Take it away!" he cried.
"Beg pardon, Sir Hilton. Tilborough first Summer Meeting."
"Take it away!"
"Yes, sir; but La Sylphide."
"Look here, Mark, my lad, no more of this. I know, of course, but take
it away. Do you want to drive me mad?"
"Beg pardon, Sir Hilton. Then you won't drive over in the dogcart?"
"What?"
"Just to see her pull it off, Sir Hilton."
"Confound it, man! Hold your tongue! Be off!"
At that moment there were steps on the gravel, and directly after a peal
arose from the door-bell.
"Go and see who that is, sir, and never mention anything connected with
the Turf again. It's dead to me, and I'm dead to it," he muttered, as
the man left the room, giving place to Jane, who hurried in with covered
dishes upon a tray.
"Did you see who that was, Jane?"
"No, Sir Hilton. Some gentleman on horseback. His horse is hooked on
one side of the gate."
"Who the deuce can it be?"
"Dr Granton, sir," said the groom, coming to the door.
"Oh! Where is he?"
"Study, sir."
"Bring him in here."
Sir Hilton looked quite transformed. There was a bright, alert look in
his erstwhile dull eyes, and he seemed to pull himself together as he
started actively from his chair, and made as if to hurry after his
groom.
But he was too late, for the door reopened, and Mark showed in a
handsome, dark, military-looking man of about five-and-thirty, who
marched in, hunting-crop in hand, spurs jingling faintly at his heels,
and dressed in faultless taste as a horseman.
"My dear old Jack!"
"Hilt, old boy!"
"This is a surprise. Here, Jane, another cover; the doctor will
breakfast with me."
"My dear fellow, I breakfasted at eight."
"Never mind; have an eleven's. Mouthful of corn then never hurt anyone.
A chair here, Mark. That will do, my man."
Mark backed out, with the half-grin, which had sprung up on seeing his
master's animation, dying out, and shaking his head, while the visitor
turned the chair placed for him back to the table and bestrode it as if
it were a horse.
"Whatever brings you down into this dismal region?"
"Dismal, eh?" said the visitor, glancing round, and then out of the
window. "Races."
"Humph!" ejaculated the baronet. "Yes; I heard they were to-day."
"You heard? Aren't you coming?"
"No, no. I've dropped all that sort of thing now."
"Oh, yes, I forgot; and my manners, too. How is her ladyship?"
"Oh, well--very well, Jack," said Sir Hilton, in a mournful way.
"That's right, old chap. Well, trot her out."
Sir Hilton frowned.
"I beg your pardon, old man. Presuming on old brotherly acquaintance.
I shall be glad to see her, though."
"Of course, my dear boy; but the fact is, she is out."
"She is? Hang it all, then, I've come at the right time. Have a day
off with me at Tilborough, and we'll dine afterwards at the hotel. We
can get a snack of something."
"No, no; you misunderstand me. My wife is only having a morning drive
in the pony chaise. A little business in the village."
"Oh, I see; Lady Bountiful--district visiting--buying curtsies of the
old women, and that sort of thing."
"Yes--er--exactly."
"Ah! I've heard that Lady Lisle does a deal in that way. Takes the
chair at charity meetings, eh? Primrose Dame, too?"
"Who told you that?"
"Told me? Let's see. Oh, it was Lady Tilborough."
The conversation ceased for a minute or two while Jane entered with a
tray, busied herself, and then departed, leaving the visitor quite ready
to show that his eight o'clock breakfast was a thing of the past.
"I say, though," he exclaimed, with his mouth half full, "I didn't mean
this. I've left my horse hitched on to the gate."
Sir Hilton rose, stepped to the window, and returned.
"Not there. Mark would see to it, of course, and give it a feed in the
stables."
"That's all right, then. Yes, Lady Tilborough was talking about you the
other day."
"Was she? What did she say?"
"Oh, not much. Only that it was a pity you had given up hunting and the
Turf."