Lady Tryon had descended to her drawing-room, to which Harry had been
summoned to receive her commands. He felt greatly disposed to
emancipate himself from his thraldom. "Better a crust of bread and a
cup of cold water than this sort of work," he thought; "yet my
grandmother has brought me up, she is the only relative to whom I owe
obedience; perhaps something will turn up to free me."
He thought this as he came up from his room. The post arrived at the
same moment. A letter was delivered to him. It was from Mabel,
announcing her cousin's death. She called him her dear Harry, and
concluded with "ever the same." Had he been alone he would have pressed
the letter to his lips; as it was, he merely repeated the more important
part of its contents to his grandmother. Utterly worldly, and devoid of
any higher feeling, the old lady received the news in a heartless way.
She scarcely uttered an expression of regret; indeed, Harry could not
help seeing that she was highly pleased.
"You must marry the heiress," she said; "you must praise her to Mr.
Kyffin, and I will back you up, and we will see what he can do for you."
She suddenly seemed to think Harry appeared doubtful as to what he
should do.
"I tell you, boy, I'll cut you off to a shilling," she said, getting up
and laying her hand on his arm. "You will be a beggar, and a wretched
beggar, if you don't follow my advice. I will not say more; I have said
enough; but remember."
"Yes, your ladyship has said enough," answered Harry. "I love Mabel too
well to have her for the sake of her fortune, and I have no wish to see
her father die that I may become its possessor."
"Nonsense, boy!" exclaimed the old lady, in a harsh, shrill voice.
"You're a fool, Harry."
The unpleasant conversation was interrupted by a servant entering, and
announcing a visitor.
"Mr. Flockton, who is he?" asked Harry, as he looked at the card.
"I know him; I am glad he has come," said Lady Tryon; "it will save me a
long drive into the city."
As she spoke, a middle-aged gentleman in fashionable costume entered the
room. He was a somewhat short man, broadly built, with regular
features, and a shining bald forehead, from which his lightly-powdered
hair was completely drawn off, and fastened behind in a pigtail. The
expression of his countenance was bland, with an apparently candid
manner, a smile showing his fine white teeth; and an air of nonchalance,
though rather evidently the result of artificial politeness than of
natural courtesy or good breeding. He bowed with a flourish of his hat
to Lady Tryon, and gave a familiar nod to the young gentleman as he sank
back in the seat placed for him by the servant. Lady Tryon had had some
previous transactions with Mr. Flockton, who was the great lottery
contractor. It was part of his business to know everybody, as well as
their private concerns, in all parts of the United Kingdom. Many was
the lady of rank, a merchant's or a shopkeeper's wife in London, with
whom Mr. Flockton had managed to scrape acquaintance, but his chief
constituents were among the great masses of society that underlie the
noble and the wealthy. His baits and nets lay ready for fish of the
smallest size, also, many who could with difficulty raise the sum of 1
pound 11 shillings 6 pence, whereby a sixteenth share of the 20,000
pound prize might by two lucky turns of the wheel of fortune be gained.
He caught others by half and even whole tickets at various prices. In
country inns Mr. Flockton's advertisements were found fastened up among
the political ballads on the walls of the public rooms. They were often
circulated by the same book-hawkers who supplied the vast numbers of
tracts and verses then published on "The rights of man," and "Liberty,
Equality, and Fraternity," advocated by the French Revolutionists and
the English Jacobins. In every manufacturing town and district they
came round with parcels of goods and patterns, and were eagerly read by
workpeople and masters alike. They circulated in the servants' halls,
even before they were read in the oak parlours and cedar galleries of
the granges and lordly castles of the land, and many a poor clergyman
dreamed of education for his boys and portions for his girls from the
result of a lottery ticket.
"I have called, your ladyship, to bring the ten lottery tickets you
desired to possess. A cheque on your bankers will pay me for them, and
it is my belief that you will find that one of them brings you the great
prize. Perhaps this young gentleman would like to take two or three, a
mere trifle will give him every prospect of a large sum, and should your
ladyship miss it, he would have a greater chance of gaining the prize.
What does your ladyship say? Surely you have balance at your bankers'
sufficient to buy fifty tickets, and, in my opinion, the wisest people
will buy the most; the more bought, the greater the chance of success."
Lady Tryon was for a moment silent. She recollected too well that on
the previous night she had not only lost every shilling which she had at
her bankers', but a considerable sum above it; not only that, but she
had raised large sums at different times of late, which if she paid the
principal would absorb the whole of her property. Should she pay her
debts of honour, or buy the lottery tickets? Mr. Flockton's confident
and glowing descriptions decided her on the latter course. When she got
the lottery prize she would satisfy the debts she had incurred at cards.
She took the tickets Mr. Flockton offered, giving him a cheque, which
left her scarcely more that 50 pounds at her bankers'. Her greatest
annoyance arose from her thus being unable to indulge in gambling till
the day for drawing the lottery. Mr. Flockton handing the tickets to
her ladyship, and buttoning up the cheque, took his departure.
Scarcely had he gone, when a servant entered with an announcement that a
person of a very suspicious appearance desired to see her ladyship. "I
told him, my lady, that you were engaged, but he would take no denial."
Lady Tryon, who was constitutionally brave, having Harry by her side,
desired that the man might be shown up. He entered the room with a
confident air, though perfectly respectful, and presented an
official-looking document.
"Why, it's to summon me to Bow Street police-office for gambling!"
exclaimed Lady Tryon. "What is this? Are ladies and gentlemen not to
be allowed to amuse themselves if they think fit?"
"I have nothing to do with that, my lady," answered the man, "I have
delivered the summons; this young gentleman and your servant are witness
to that; the hour is mentioned on the paper. I've done my duty, I wish
your ladyship good-morning."
"Fearful impertinence!" exclaimed Lady Tryon. "What is the country
coming to? Ladies of rank to be treated like criminals, and ordered
about at the pleasure of police magistrates!"
Harry was naturally considerably annoyed, at the same time he could not
forget the scene of the previous evening, and he had heard that some
very just enactments had lately been passed to put a stop to gambling,
both public and private.
"I will go instead of you," he said, "if that will answer."
"No, I must go myself," she said, looking at the paper through her
spectacles. "Fearful _impertinence_ of these people! Horrible
indignity to be subjected to!"
At the time appointed Lady Tryon drove up to the police-office. Several
carriages were already there, their occupants fashionably-dressed
ladies. Lady Tryon recognised them as her acquaintances, with whom she
had played at Lady Buckinghamshire's. The gentleman who had acted as
_croupier_, and kept the faro-table, was among them. They entered
together, looking very hot and very indignant; they were accommodated
with seats while the evidence was read. The witnesses against them were
two servants, who had been dismissed from her ladyship's service, and
had taken these means to revenge themselves. As these ladies of rank
had no excuse to offer, and could not deny the charge, they were each
fined 50 pounds, while the keeper of the table, a gentleman of fashion,
had to pay 200 pounds as a punishment for his transgression of the law.
Lady Tryon drove back in even a worse temper than usual. The 50 pounds
she was to pay was the remainder of the balance at her banker's. She
was now literally penniless unless her lottery tickets should turn up
prizes. The eventful day of the drawing was looked forward to, not only
by her, but by thousands more, with intense anxiety. At length it
arrived. Harry set forth with his grandmother in her carriage. The
evening before she had sent for the doctor, and procured a quieting
potion. In truth she required it, for she looked very ill and excited.
Harry saw her maid, by her directions, put into the pocket of the
carriage two or three small bottles.
"They are little draughts which I may require, Harry, to keep me up. I
am an old woman, you know, and my nerves are not as strong as they used
to be."
They drove on. The crowd increased as they proceeded westward, towards
Guildhall. The great drawing was to take place there.
"We are certain, Harry, to obtain a prize; if not the 20,000 pound
prize, a smaller one, at all events, and that will enable me to purchase
a few more tickets for another lottery, or to set me up at the
card-table again. If I get the 20,000 pound prize you shall have 1,000
pounds, I will promise you, to cut a figure with in town, and then to go
down and marry pretty Mabel Everard. Ah, Harry! you are a fortunate
fellow to have such a kind old grandmother as I am, and to be loved by
such a sweet girl as Mabel. I know your secret; she loves you, you
rogue, and you have only to ask her, and she will marry you at once. I
can manage her father; he is a good-natured, easy man, and has a great
respect for me."
Thus Lady Tryon ran on; but she could not long keep her thoughts from
the hope of the prize. As they passed by Saint Paul's they found a
dense crowd: every moment it increased. Besides a long string of
carriages there were numberless people on foot: not only those who
possessed tickets, and those who had ensured them, but the friends of
the holders, and also many idlers who came to see the drawing, and not a
few who were there to prey on the unwary, and pick their pockets
literally and metaphorically. As much time would have been lost had the
carriage attempted to reach Guildhall, Lady Tryon alighted in Cheapside,
and leaning on the arm of her grandson, walked with eager steps towards
the renowned hall. Harry felt her arm tremble as she hung heavily on
his; but not a word did she utter. All her thoughts and feelings were
absorbed in the prospect of the prize she hoped to obtain. Had he known
more than he did, he would have understood how much hung upon it.