"No--nothing to--mention, my dear fellow. Comes a bit--sharp at first, y' know,--better in a minute or two."
"Dick--Dick, what can I do for you?"
"Nothing,--don't worry, Bev,--right as ninepence in a minute, y' know!" stammered the Viscount, trying to steady his twitching mouth.
"Come back," pleaded Barnabas, "come back and let me bathe it--have it attended to."
"Bathe it? Pooh!" said the Viscount, contriving to smile, "pain's quite gone, I assure you, my dear fellow. I shall be all right now, if--if you don't mind giving me your arm. Egad, Bev, some one seems devilish determined you shan't ride to-day!"
"But I shall--now, thanks to you, Dick!"
So they presently walked on together, but no longer unnaturally stiff as to back, for arm was locked in arm, and they forgot to be polite to each other.
Thus, in a while, they reached the "Chequers" inn, and were immediately shown into a comfortable sanded parlor where breakfast was preparing. And here behold Captain Slingsby lounging upon two chairs and very busily casting up his betting book, while the Marquis, by the aid of a small, cracked mirror, that chanced to hang against the wall, was frowning at his reflection and pulling at the folds of a most elaborate cravat with petulant fingers.
"Ah, Beverley--here's the dooce of a go!" he exclaimed, "that fool of a fellow of mine has actually sent me out to ride in a 'Trone d'Amour' cravat, and I've only just discovered it! The rascal knows I always take the field in an 'Osbaldistone' or 'Waterfall.' Now how the dooce can I be expected to ride in a thing like this! Most distressing, by Jove it is!"
"Eight thousand guineas!" said the Captain, yawning. "Steepish, b'gad, steepish! Eight thousand at ten to one--hum! Now, if Fortune should happen to smile on me to-day--by mistake, of course--still, if she does, I shall clear enough to win free of Gaunt's claws for good and all, b'gad!"
"Then I shall be devilish sorry to have to beat you, Sling, my boy!" drawled the Marquis, "yes, doocid sorry,--still--"
"Eh--what? Beat the 'Rascal,' Jerny? Not on your weedy 'Clinker,' b'gad--"
"Oh, but dooce take me, Sling, you'd never say the 'Rascal' was the better horse? Why, in the first place, there's too much daylight under him for your weight--besides--"
"But, my dear Jerny, you must admit that your 'Clinker' 's inclined to be just--a le-e-etle cow-hocked, come now, b'gad?"
"And then--as I've often remarked, my dear Sling, the 'Rascal' is too long in the pasterns, not to mention--"
"B'gad! give me a horse with good bellows,--round, d' ye see, well ribbed home--"
"My dear Sling, if you could manage to get your 'Rascal' four new legs, deeper shoulders, and, say, fuller haunches, he might possibly stand a chance. As it is, Sling, my boy, I commiserate you--but hallo! Devenham, what's wrong? You look a little off color."
"Well, for one thing, I want my breakfast," answered the Viscount.
"So do I!" cried the Captain, springing to his feet, "but, b'gad, Dick, you do look a bit palish round the gills, y' know."
"Effect of hunger and a bad night, perhaps."
"Had a bad night, hey, Dick? Why, so did I," said the Captain, frowning. "Dreamed that the 'Rascal' fell and broke his neck, poor devil, and that I was running like the wind--jumping hedges and ditches with Jasper Gaunt close at my heels--oh, cursed unpleasant, y'know! What--is breakfast ready? Then let's sit down, b'gad, I'm famished!"
So down they sat forthwith and, despite the Viscount's arm, and the Marquis of Jerningham's cravat, a very hearty and merry meal they made of it.
But lo! as they prepared to rise from the table, voices were heard beyond the door, whereupon the Viscount sat up suddenly to listen.
"Why--egad!" he exclaimed, "I do believe it's my Roman!"
"No, by heaven!" said the Marquis, also listening, "dooce take me if it isn't my great-aunt--her Graceless Grace, by Jove it is!"
Even as he spoke, the door opened and the Duchess swept in, all rustling silks and furbelows, very small, very dignified, and very imperious. Behind her, Barnabas saw a tall, graceful figure, strangely young-looking despite his white hair, which he wore tied behind in a queue, also his clothes, though elegant, were of a somewhat antiquated fashion; but indeed, this man with his kindly eyes and gentle, humorous mouth, was not at all like the Roman parent Barnabas had pictured.
"Ah, gentlemen!" cried the Duchess, acknowledging their four bows with a profound curtsy, "I am here to wish you success--all four of you--which is quite an impossible wish of course--still, I wish it. Lud, Captain Slingsby, how well you look in scarlet! Marquis--my fan! Mr. Beverley--my cane! A chair? thank you, Viscount. Yes indeed, gentlemen, I've backed you all--I shall gain quite a fortune if you all happen to win--which you can't possibly, of course,--still, one of you will, I hope,--and--oh, dear me, Viscount, how pale you are! Look at him, Bamborough--it's his arm, I know it is!"
"Arm, madam?" repeated the Viscount with an admirable look of surprise, "does your Grace suggest--"
But here the Earl of Bamborough stepped into the room and, closing the door, bowed to the company.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I have the honor to salute you! Viscount--your most dutiful, humble, obedient father to command."
"My Lord," answered the Viscount, gravely returning his father's bow, "your Lordship's most obliged and grateful son!"
"My dear Devenham," continued the Earl solemnly, "being, I fear, something of a fogy and fossil, I don't know if you Bucks allow the formality of shaking hands. Still, Viscount, as father and son--or rather son and father, it may perhaps be permitted us? How are you, Viscount?"
Now as they clasped hands, Barnabas saw the Viscount set his jaw grimly, and something glistened upon his temple, yet his smile was quite engaging as he answered:
"Thank you, my Lord,--never better!"
"Yes," said his Lordship, as he slowly relinquished the Viscount's hand, "your Grace was right, as usual,--it is his arm!"
"Then of course he cannot ride, Bamborough--you will forbid it?"
"On the contrary, madam, he must ride. Being a favorite, much money has changed hands already on his account, and, arm or no arm, he must ride now--he owes it to his backers. You intend to, of course, Horatio?"
"My Lord, I do."
"It's your right arm, luckily, and a horseman needs only his left. You ride fairly well, I understand, Viscount?"
"Oh, indifferent well, sir, I thank you. But allow me to present my friend to your Lordship,--Mr. Beverley--my father!"
So Barnabas shook hands with the Viscount's Roman parent, and, meeting his kindly eyes, saw that, for all their kindliness, they were eyes that looked deep into the heart of things.
"Come, gentlemen," cried the Duchess rising, "if you have quite finished breakfast, take me to the stables, for I'm dying to see the horses, I vow I am. Lead the way, Viscount. Mr. Beverley shall give me his arm."
So towards the stables they set forth accordingly, the Duchess and Barnabas well to the rear, for, be it remarked, she walked very slowly.
"Here it is, Barnabas," said she, as soon as the others were