Lady Lisle swept into the room, fresh from the pony-carriage, looking
rather stern and haughty, her brows knitting at the sight of the
breakfast things, and then rising a little as she saw the
gallant-looking gentleman who rose and advanced to meet her.
"Dr Granton!"
"At your service, Lady Lisle. I was in the neighbourhood, and rode over
to see my dear old friend, but I am just off. I congratulate you. How
well he looks!"
"I am glad you think so. But--you have only just come. Will you not
stay? My husband must have a good deal to say to you."
"We could talk for hours, my dear madam, but I must be going on."
"You will stay to lunch?"
"Impossible. Most important business in the neighbourhood. Hilton has
been most hospitable and refreshed me, and I really must be off--eh,
Hilt?"
"Certainly."
"The fact is, Lady Lisle, it is a question of money matters. Business
connection with a bank."
Lady Lisle bowed, and looked relieved.
"If you must go, then, Dr Granton--"
"I really must, my dear madam. No, no, Hilton, dear boy, don't ring for
the horse; I'll go round by the stables and pick up my hack. Don't you
come. Good-morning, Lady Lisle. I hope you will let me call if I am
again this way?"
"Certainly, Dr Granton. I am always happy to extend the hospitality of
the Denes to my husband's friends."
"Thank you; of course. Once more, good-morning. Morning, Hilton, dear
boy. Au revoir!"
He passed out, and the frown on Lady Lisle's brow deepened. "I'm
afraid, Hilton," she said, "that Dr Granton's business may have
something to do with the races."
"Eh? Indeed! Well, now you say so, I suppose it is possible."
"You have not allowed him to tempt you into going, Hilton?"
"No, my dear," said the baronet; "certainly not."
He spoke out quickly and firmly, the glow of the virtuous who had
resisted temptation warming his breast.
"Thank you, dear," she said, laying her hand almost caressingly upon her
lord's shoulder. "It could only have meant gambling, risking money to
win that of others. Hilton, my love, it is so vile and despicable."
"Think so, Laura?" he said, with the cold chill of his wife's words
completely extinguishing the virtuous glow.
"Think so? Oh, yes, Hilton. You cannot imagine how happy you make me
by the way you are casting behind you your old weaknesses, and are
devoting yourself to Parliamentary study."
"For which I fear I am very unfit," said Sir Hilton; and he turned cold
directly after at a horrible thought which seemed to stun him.
Suppose she should say, "Well, give it up," and want to withdraw that
balance at the bank! "What an idiot I was to say that!" he thought.
But relief--partial relief--came the next minute.
"That is your modesty, my dear," said Lady Lisle. "I flatter myself
that I know your capabilities better than you know them yourself.
Hilton, I shall devote myself to the task of being your Parliamentary
secretary, and I mean that you shall shine."
"Thank you, my dear," said the unhappy man, sadly, as he thought of the
daring venture he had set in commission, and began to repent as he
walked to the window and looked out.
"I ought not to have risked that money, though. Suppose the mare lost,"
he mused. "Bah! I know her too well. There isn't a horse can touch
her in the straight, and it will regularly set me up. I shan't have to
go begging for a cheque, and then have `What for, darling?' ringing in
my ears. Hang it all! It makes a man feel so small. Why, the very
servants pity me--I know they do. And as for that old scoundrel
Trimmer--oh, if I could only give him something, even if it were only a
wife to keep him short!"
"Suppose--" he thought again, and could get no farther than that one
word, which, like the nucleus of a comet, sent out behind or before it a
tail of enormous proportions--a sort of gaseous mist of horrible
probabilities concerning that four thousand pounds.
"If I could get a message to him and stop it all," he muttered, as he
watched Jane rapidly clear the table of the tardy breakfast things.
"Yes, my love, Parliament must be the goal of your ambition," said Lady
Lisle, with her eyes brightening, as soon as they were alone. "If I had
been a man how I should have gloried in addressing the House!"
"Ah! there's a deal of talk goes on there, my dear," replied Sir Hilton.
"And what talk, Hilton! What a study! The proper study of mankind is
man. How much better than devoting all your attention to dogs and
horses!"
"`How noble a beast is the horse,' dear, it said in my first
reading-book."
"Absurd, my love. Pray don't think of horses any more."
Sir Hilton winced, and then watched his lady as she moved in a dignified
way to the fireplace to rearrange her headgear.
"Going out again, my dear?" said Sir Hilton, for want of something
better to say.
"Yes, love. I have ordered the carriage round, to drive over to Hanby."
"To Hanby, dear?"
"Yes. Mr Browse drove by while I was at the vicarage," said the lady,
in a tone of disgust. "That man is in arrear with his rent for the
farm. The vicar said he supposed the man was going to the races, and I
am going over to see his wife."
"For goodness' sake, don't go and interfere, my dear," cried Sir Hilton,
anxiously. "It would get talked about so at the Tilborough Market, and
spread in all directions."
"It would not matter, that I see," said her ladyship, haughtily. "But I
was not going to interfere. I might, perhaps, say a word or two of
condolence to poor Mrs Browse, and point out how much happier she would
be if her husband followed the example of mine."
"But, hang it all, Laura, he can't try to enter into Parliament!"
"No, my love, but he could give up horse-racing."
"Surely you are not going over there--to drive all those miles--to say
that?"
"No, my love, only to help carry on your election contest, and be in
time. Mr Browse is in my--our debt, according to Mr Trimmer's figures,
for a whole year's rental of the farm."
"But you mustn't go and dun people."
"Dun, Hilton?"
"Well, collect rents. Leave that to Trimmer."
"Of course I shall, my dear," said her ladyship, with a condescending
smile. "I am going over to name that circumstance of their indebtedness
to me--us, and to tell her that I shall expect Mr Browse to vote for
you. She will compel her husband to do so, and that will ensure one
vote."
"The grey mare's the better horse," said Sir Hilton to himself, and he
was thinking of the train of circumstances in connection with the race,
and planning to rush off and try to forestall the doctor's risking
money, as he sat back in his chair, when, slowly slouching along after
passing through the swing gate, one of the regular hangers-on of a
race-meeting approached the house. His aspect was battered, and the
pink hunting-coat--one which had seen very much better days--was rubbed
to whiteness here and greased to blackness there. It was frayed and
patched, and wore the general aspect of having been used as a sleeping
garment on occasion, being decorated with scraps of hay, prickly seed
vessels, and the like, in addition to the chalky dust of the road, a
good deal of which powdered the round-topped, peaked hunting cap, once
of black velvet, now all fibre, with scarcely a trace of nap.
The coat was closely buttoned up to the throat, and a pair of much-worn
cord trousers completed the man's costume, all but his boots, which were
ornamented with slashings, for the benefit, probably, of bunions, for if
intended for effect, after the fashion of an old stuffed doublet, the
effort was a mistake.
But there was no mistake about the man's profession. He was hall-marked
"tramp" by his blear eyes and horribly reddened, bulbous nose, and
racing-tout by the packet of race-cards peering out of his
breast-pocket. But evidently he was a man of much invention, inasmuch
as from a desire to do a little trading on his way from racecourse to
racecourse, or for an excuse to find his way to houses where he might
pick up unconsidered trifles, cadging, filching, and the like, he
carried in one hand a fat, white mongrel puppy, with a bit of blue
ribbon tied about its neck. As a dog, it was about as bad a specimen as
could be met with in a day's march; but it had one advantage over its
owner--it was scrupulously clean.
The squire of the Denes was not within the scope of the tramp's view, as
he loafed up with his blear eyes twinkling; and for the moment the shape
of the room hid Lady Lisle, till the big Persian cat, the minute before
apparently fast asleep, curled up on an ottoman upon which the sun shone
warmly, suddenly smelt dog, and sprang to all fours, arching its back,
bottle-brushing its tail, and baring its white teeth, as it began to
swear loudly.
"Oh, Khan, Khan, what is the matter?" cried Lady Lisle, taking a step or
two towards the cat, and then stopping short with "Oh, Hilton, my love,
send this dreadful man away!"
"Buy a lovely little dawg, my lady," cried the tramp, now close up to
the window, and smiling, whining, and leering in. "Puss, puss, puss!
Look at 'em! They'll make friends in a minute."
He reached in a hand and set the puppy down on the Turkey carpet, when
the idiotic-looking little object, after the manner of its kind, began
slowly to blunder towards the lordly Persian yclept Khan, to the
imminent risk of having its eyes scratched out.
"Look at the pretty creetur, my lady," whined the man. "Two guineas is
the price, but seeing its you, my lady, and a good home for the little
beauty, say one pun, and he's yours."
"Take your dirty whelp up and be off, you scoundrel!" cried Sir Hilton,
in a passion, and deftly placing the toe of his boot under the puppy he
lifted it and sent it flying through the window, to be fielded cleverly
and without pain by its owner.
"What, my noble Capting! What, my noble barrowknight, you here? You
are a sight for sore eyes. You ain't forgot Dandy Dinny?"
"Forgotten you? No, you scoundrel!"
"Just your old self again, Sir Rilton. Why, bless me! this is like old
times. Here, c'rect card, Sir Rilton; all the names colours, jocks, and
starters. Take a dozen, your lordship; you'll want 'em for your
lady-friends on the course."
"Be off, sir! How dare you trespass on my premises!"
"Trespass, Sir Rilton? I wouldn't do such a thing. There, I knowed
you'd never drop the Turf. Whats yer 'oss's name?"
"Cut!" cried Sir Hilton, fiercely.
"Is it, now? A sharp 'un, then, as'll show the field its four blessed
racing plates. A dark 'un, your honour?"
"Will you be off, you scoundrel!"
"Off, your honour, in a jiffy, ready to look out for you on the course.
But you'll buy the little dawg for her lovely ladyship?"
"Take the miserable mongrel away."
"But such a companion for the long-haired tom puss, Sir Rilton."
"Did you hear me tell you to go, sir?"
"Yes, your honour," whispered the man, shuffling his "c'rect cards" back
into his pocket with one hand, and leaning forward into the room to
whisper: "I'm 'orrid hard up, Sir Rilton. Give us a tip for the cup to
help a pore fellow get a honest livin'. You'll do that for your pore
old friend as touted for you all these years?"
"Here, catch!" cried Sir Hilton, tossing the man a florin, which, as it
went spinning out into the sunshine, was deftly caught, spat upon, and
transferred to a pocket.
"Long life to Sir Rilton Lisle, and may his 'osses allus win! But
you'll buy the little dawg for her ladyship, your honour?"
Sir Hilton made an angry gesture, and the wretched-looking object
slouched off, just as the noise of gravel-grinding was heard, and the
Lisles' handsome victoria was driven up to the front door.
"There, Hilton," said the lady, reproachfully, "is it not horrible that
you should have come to such a state of degradation as that!"--and she
pointed in the direction taken by the tout.
"I--I?" cried her husband, firing up. "Hang it all, Laura, do you
compare me to that wretched cad?"
"No, no, my dear. I mean the degradation of being recognised by such a
miserable outcast."
"Humph! Poor wretch!"
"And I do object, love, to your indulging in casual relief. Be
charitable, of course, but give only to the deserving and good. There,"
she continued, advancing towards him to lay her hands upon his shoulders
and kiss him solemnly, "I'm not angry with you, darling, for you will
take these lessons to heart, I'm sure. Good-bye, love. Go and study up
your Blue Books, and think out your plan of campaign. I shall be back
soon to tell you that you may be sure of Mr Browse's vote."
"Thank you, my dear," said Sir Hilton, responding dreamily to the chilly
caress he received, the lady's lips being just on a level with his
forehead. "Here, I'll come to the carriage with you."
"No, no, no, love. Get to your Blue Books, and practise your speeches.
I'm going to work for and with you, not to be a hindrance. Get to work,
I want you to be a modern Cicero or Demosthenes. Good-bye--Good-bye."
Lady Lisle solemnly waved a kiss to her husband, and sailed out of the
room, leaving the dapper little baronet deep in thought and biting his
nails.