"Blue Books! Blue Books! Confound the Blue Books!" cried Sir Hilton,
as he marched up and down the breakfast-room long after he had heard the
wheels of the departing victoria and the tramp of the handsome pair of
horses die out. "Who's to study Blue Books? Who's to practise speeches
with the weight of four thousand pounds on his mind?
"Speeches!" he cried angrily, after a few minutes, and he waved his
hands wildly. "I want no practice, after making such a Speech as I did
to Jack Granton. I must have been mad. I can't go to the course
without being found out, and if I could it's too late--too late--too
late!
"But is it?" he said, after a few minutes' restless walk like that of
the lone wolf up and down its cage at the Zoo.
"Oh, yes," he groaned; "Jack was always like lightning at planking down.
He'd ride straight away and get every penny on. There, I'm getting in
a regular fever. Out of training. I never used to worry when I stood
to lose five times as much, and I won't worry now. I won't think I
stand to lose four thou', but only that I stand to win forty, as I must,
for with Josh Rowle up, the Sylphide must win in a canter. There's
nothing been foaled yet that can touch her in these little races.
There, Laura's out, and I'll have a cigar and calm down. Forty thou'!
Shell never know--at least, I hope not, and, it will make me independent
for a bit. But I won't do it any more. It would be tempting fortune;
but with that extra in the bank I can stand my ground a little. Laura's
a dear good woman, but too straight-laced. There's too much of this
parish twaddle and charity-mongering. She's quite insane upon such
matters, and with the independence that money will give me I can afford
to stand up for myself. She talks about weaning me, and I've given up
the hunting and the racecourse to humour her, so now she must drop some
of her fads to favour me. We shall be a deal happier then."
He dropped into a chair, feeling easier in his mind, and went on musing.
"Yes," he said, "there's a lot a fellow ought to do, and the first thing
after settling day I mean to attack this stewardship business. I'm
about sick of that long, lean, lizardly humbug Trimmer. Hang his white
choker and sanctified ways! He's a wolf in sheep's clothing, I'll
swear. A hypocritical rascal! I'll swear I saw him leering at our
pretty Jane, but if I told Laura she'd take his part. Ha, ha, ha!
Capital!" he said half-aloud, as he indulged in a hearty fit of
chuckling. "What a splendid idea. I can't quite see my way, but Mark's
dead on the little lassie, and if I'm right and the lad can be
enlightened, my word, I should like to see the fun! Judging by the way
Mark can handle his fives, and the fire such a notion would give him, I
shouldn't like to be in Master Trimmer's shoes, to wear the phiz he
would have when the lad had done with him. Yes, that would settle
Master Trimmer, if, of course, I am right, and he is the confounded
mawworm I believe him to be.
"Well, that would be an improvement. Then there's Master Syd. That
young dog's gammoning his aunt shamefully, I'm sure. But it's all her
own fault. She treats him as if he were a child instead of a lad of
eighteen and it isn't natural for a boy to be dragged into these parish
meetings, and to be set to read reports of this society and that
society, and checked in his natural desire for a bit of honest, manly
sport. Why, if that boy could have had his way he'd have been at the
races to-day. Going fishing, I suppose. Well, that's not so bad, but I
almost wonder he's allowed to do that.
"Hang it all!" he muttered, springing up and going to the window, where
he looked out, and carefully cut and lit a cigar, to begin smoking, so
that the fumes should pass out into the air, "how that money does keep
buzzing in my head. My pulses are going like fun. Ah! there, I won't
think about it. La Sylphide is safe to pull it off for us. Do Granton
good, too. Make him more independent over his suit with the widow. Ha!
There's nothing like a good cigar to pull a man round. I'm better
already; but it's miserable work, this having to steal a smoke in one's
own house. I feel quite a coward over it, or like a boy learning. Like
Syd did when I caught him having a weed in the stables. One of mine,
too! He confessed to helping himself to one out of that box in the
study cupboard.
"Well, I wasn't very hard on him. Boys will be boys, and they pay
pretty dearly for their first smoke.
"Yes, I feel ever so much calmer now. My word! How I should have liked
to have the dogcart out and drive Laury tandem to the racecourse! She
wouldn't have enjoyed it? Well, the boy, then, to see the Sylph win,
and dropped in afterwards at the Arms. Had a chat with old Sam's pretty
little lassie. Good idea that of his, to name the little thing after
the mare. How proud he is of her, and how proud he was, too, of the
mare. Well, no wonder; it was a splendid bit of training. But hang him
for an old fox! As big an old scoundrel as ever had a horse pulled in a
race. Shocking old ruffian! Wonder what he's doing on the cup race; on
heavily with La Sylphide, of course, and no wonder, for she is sure to
win."
As he said these words Sir Hilton was sitting on the window-sill sending
out his smoke in good, steady, regular puffs, perfectly unconscious of
all sounds without and of everything but his own thoughts, till the door
was opened suddenly, with strange effect.
For Sir Hilton Lisle, Bart., as his name was written, made a sudden
bound off the window-sill, sending his cigar flying, while the guilty
blood flushed his face, as he felt that his wife had returned, and he
had been caught smoking indoors.
But he turned pale with anger the next moment as he stood facing the
little maid, Jane, who was fighting hard to hide a smile which would
show, while her bright eyes twinkled with delight, as she said quickly:
"Lady Tilborough, sir."
And the next moment the widow of the late nobleman of that name, a
round-faced, retrousse-nosed, red-lipped, grey-eyed little woman of
exquisite complexion, and looking delightfully enticing in her tall hat
and perfectly-fitting riding-habit, which she held up with a pair of
prettily-gauntleted hands, hurried into the room.
"There, go away, little girl," she cried, giving Jane a playful tap with
her whip, "and tell your Mark to give my pony's mouth a wash out. No
corn, mind."
"Yes, my lady," cried Jane, beaming upon the natty little body, and
taking in her dress with one glance.
"Here I am, Hilt, dear boy," cried the visitor, as the door closed.
"Caught you all alone, for I passed your wife, and she cut me dead.
Here I am!"
"Yes, I see you are," groaned Sir Hilton; and then to himself:
"Temptation once again, and in its most tempting form."