CHAPTER LIX. Old Friends
It chanced at that great English festival, at which all London takes aholiday upon Epsom Downs, that a great number of the personages to whomwe have been introduced in the course of this history, were assembled tosee the Derby. In a comfortable open carriage, which had been broughtto the ground by a pair of horses, might be seen Mrs. Bungay, ofPaternoster Row, attired like Solomon in all his glory, and having byher side modest Mrs. Shandon, for whom, since the commencement oftheir acquaintance, the worthy publisher's lady had maintained a steadyfriendship. Bungay, having recreated himself with a copious luncheon,was madly shying at the sticks hard by, till the perspiration ran offhis bald pate. Shandon was shambling about among the drinking tenantsand gipsies: Finucane constant in attendance on the two ladies, towhom gentlemen of their acquaintance, and connected with the publishinghouse, came up to pay a visit.
Among others, Mr. Archer came up to make her his bow, and told Mrs.Bungay who was on the course. Yonder was the Prime Minister: hislordship had just told him to back Borax for the race; but Archerthought Munmeer the better horse. He pointed out countless dukes andgrandees to the delighted Mrs. Bungay. "Look yonder in the Grand Stand,"he said. "There sits the Chinese Ambassador with the Mandarins of hissuite, Fou-choo-foo brought me over letters of introduction from theGovernor-General of India, my most intimate friend, and I was for sometime very kind to him, and he had his chopsticks laid for him at mytable whenever he chose to come and dine. But he brought his own cookwith him, and--would you believe it, Mrs. Bungay?--one day, when Iwas out, and the Ambassador was with Mrs. Archer in our garden eatinggooseberries, of which the Chinese are passionately fond, the beast ofa cook, seeing my wife's dear little Blenheim spaniel (that we had fromthe Duke of Marlborough himself, whose ancestor's life Mrs. Archer'sgreat-great-grandfather saved at the battle of Malplaquet), seized uponthe poor little devil, cut his throat, and skinned him, and served himup stuffed with forced-meat in the second course."
"Law!" said Mrs. Bungay.
"You may fancy my wife's agony when she knew what had happened! The cookcame screaming upstairs, and told us that she had found poor Fido's skinin the area, just after we had all of us tasted of the dish! She neverwould speak to the Ambassador again--never; and, upon my word, he hasnever been to dine with us since. The Lord Mayor, who did me the honourto dine, liked the dish very much; and, eaten with green peas, it tastesrather like duck."
"You don't say so, now!" cried the astonished publisher's lady.
"Fact, upon my word. Look at that lady in blue, seated by theAmbassador: that is Lady Flamingo, and they say she is going to bemarried to him, and return to Pekin with his Excellency. She is gettingher feet squeezed down on purpose. But she'll only cripple herself, andwill never be able to do it--never. My wife has the smallest foot inEngland, and wears shoes for a six-years-old child; but what is that toa Chinese lady's foot, Mrs. Bungay?"
"Who is that carriage as Mr. Pendennis is with, Mr. Archer?" Mrs. Bungaypresently asked. "He and Mr. Warrington was here jest now. He's 'aughtyin his manners, that Mr. Pendennis, and well he may be, for I'm told hekeeps tip-top company. 'As he 'ad a large fortune left him, Mr. Archer?He's in black still, I see."
"Eighteen hundred a year in land, and twenty-two thousand five hundredin the Three-and-a-half per Cents; that's about it," said Mr. Archer.
"Law! why, you know everything, Mr. A.!" cried the lady of PaternosterRow.
"I happen to know, because I was called in about poor Mrs. Pendennis'swill," Mr. Archer replied. "Pendennis's uncle, the Major, seldom doesanything without me; and as he is likely to be extravagant we've tiedup the property, so that he can't make ducks and drakes with it.--How doyou do, my lord?--Do you know that gentleman, ladies? You have read hisspeeches in the House; it is Lord Rochester."
"Lord Fiddlestick," cried out Finucane, from the box. "Sure it's TomStaples, of the Morning Advertiser, Archer."
"Is it?" Archer said, simply. "Well I'm very short-sighted, and uponmy word I thought it was Rochester. That gentleman with the doubleopera-glass (another nod) is Lord John; and the tall man with him, don'tyou know him? is Sir James."
"You know 'em because you see 'em in the House," growled Finucane.
"I know them because they are kind enough to allow me to call themmy most intimate friends," Archer continued. "Look at the Duke ofHampshire; what a pattern of a fine old English gentleman! He nevermisses 'the Derby.' 'Archer,' he said to me only yesterday, 'I have beenat sixty-five Derbies! appeared on the field for the first time on apiebald pony when I was seven years old, with my father, the Prince ofWales, and Colonel Hanger; and only missing two races--one when I hadthe measles at Eton, and one in the Waterloo year, when I was with myfriend Wellington in Flanders."
"And who is that yellow carriage, with the pink and yellow parasols,that Mr. Pendennis is talking to, and ever so many gentlemen?" askedMrs. Bungay.
"That is Lady Clavering, of Clavering Park, next estate to my friendPendennis. That is the young son and heir upon the box; he's awfullytipsy, the little scamp! and the young lady is Miss Amory, LadyClavering's daughter by a first marriage, and uncommonly sweet uponmy friend Pendennis; but I've reason to think he has his heart fixedelsewhere. You have heard of young Mr. Foker--the great brewer, Foker,you know--he was going to hang himself in consequence of a fatal passionfor Miss Amory who refused him, but was cut down just in time by hisvalet, and is now abroad, under a keeper."
"How happy that young fellow is!" sighed Mrs. Bungay. "Who'd havethought when he came so quiet and demure to dine with us, three or fouryears ago, he would turn out such a grand character! Why, I saw his nameat Court the other day, and presented by the Marquis of Steyne and all;and in every party of the nobility his name's down as sure as a gun."
"I introduced him a good deal when he first came up to town," Mr. Archersaid, "and his uncle, Major Pendennis, did the rest. Hallo! There'sCobden here, of all men in the world! I must go and speak to him.Good-bye, Mrs. Bungay. Good morning, Mrs. Shandon."
An hour previous to this time, and at a different part of the course,there might have been seen an old stage-coach, on the battered roof ofwhich a crowd of shabby raffs were stamping and hallooing, as the greatevent of the day--the Derby race--rushed over the greensward, and by theshouting millions of people assembled to view that magnificent scene.This was Wheeler's (the Harlequin's Head) drag, which had brought downa company of choice spirits from Bow Street, with a slap-up luncheon inthe boot. As the whirling race flashed by, each of the choice spiritsbellowed out the name of the horse or the colours which he thought orhe hoped might be foremost. "The Cornet!" "It's Muffineer!" "It's bluesleeves!" "Yallow cap! yallow cap! yallow cap!" and so forth, yelled thegentlemen sportsmen during that delicious and thrilling minute beforethe contest was decided; and as the fluttering signal blew out, showingthe number of the famous horse Podasokus as winner of the race, one ofthe gentlemen on the Harlequin's Head drag sprang up off the roof, as ifhe was a pigeon and about to fly away to London or York with the news.
But his elation did not lift him many inches from his standing-place, towhich he came down again on the instant, causing the boards of the crazyold coach-roof to crack with the weight of his joy. "Hurray, hurray!"he bawled out, "Podasokus is the horse! Supper for ten, Wheeler, my boy.Ask you all round of course, and damn the expense."
And the gentlemen on the carriage, the shabby swaggerers, the dubiousbucks, said, "Thank you--congratulate you, Colonel; sup with you withpleasure:" and whispered to one another, "The Colonel stands to winfifteen hundred, and he got the odds from a good man, too."
And each of the shabby bucks and dusky dandies began to eye hisneighbour with suspicion, lest that neighbour, taking his advantage,should get the Colonel into a lonely place and borrow money of him.And the winner on Podasokus could not be alone during the whole of thatafternoon, so closely did his friends watch him and each other.
At another part of the course you might have seen a vehicle certainlymore mode
st, if not more shabby than that battered coach which hadbrought down the choice spirits from the Harlequin's Head; this wascab No. 2002, which had conveyed a gentleman and two ladies from thecabstand in the Strand: whereof one of the ladies, as she sate on thebox of the cab enjoying with her mamma and their companion a repast oflobster salad and bitter ale, looked so fresh and pretty that many ofthe splendid young dandies who were strolling about the course, andenjoying themselves at the noble diversion of Sticks, and talking tothe beautifully dressed ladies in the beautiful carriages, on thehill, forsook these fascinations to have a glance at the smiling androsy-cheeked lass on the cab. The blushes of youth and good-humourmantled on the girl's cheeks, and played over that fair countenancelike the pretty shining cloudlets on the serene sky overhead; theelder lady's cheek was red too; but that was a permanent mottledrose, deepening only as it received free draughts of pale ale andbrandy-and-water, until her face emulated the rich shell of the lobsterwhich she devoured.
The gentleman who escorted these two ladies was most active inattendance upon them: here on the course, as he had been during theprevious journey. During the whole of that animated and delightful drivefrom London, his jokes had never ceased. He spoke up undauntedly to themost awful drags full of the biggest and most solemn guardsmen; as tothe humblest donkey-chaise in which Bob the dustman was driving Mollyto the race. He had fired astonishing volleys of what is called "chaff"into endless windows as he passed; into lines of grinning girls'schools; into little regiments of shouting urchins hurraying behind therailings of their Classical and Commercial Academies; into casementswhence smiling maid-servants, and nurses tossing babies, or demure oldmaiden ladies with dissenting countenances, were looking. And the prettygirl in the straw bonnet with pink ribbon, and her mamma the devourerof lobsters, had both agreed that when he was in "spirits" there wasnothing like that Mr. Sam. He had crammed the cab with trophies wonfrom the bankrupt proprietors of the Sticks hard by, and with countlesspincushions, wooden apples, backy-boxes, Jack-in-the-boxes, and littlesoldiers. He had brought up a gipsy with a tawny child in her arms totell the fortunes of the ladies: and the only cloud which momentarilyobscured the sunshine of that happy party, was when the teller of fateinformed the young lady that had had reason to beware of a fair man,who was false to her: that she had had a bad illness, and that she wouldfind that a man would prove true.
The girl looked very much abashed at this news: her mother and the youngman interchanged signs of wonder and intelligence. Perhaps the conjurerhad used the same words to a hundred different carriages on that day.
Making his way solitary amongst the crowd and the carriages, and noting,according to his wont, the various circumstances and characters whichthe animated scene presented, a young friend of ours came suddenly uponcab 2002, and the little group of persons assembled on the outsideof the vehicle. As he caught sight of the young lady on the box,she started and turned pale: her mother became redder than ever: theheretofore gay and triumphant Mr. Sam immediately assumed a fierce andsuspicious look, and his eyes turned savagely from Fanny Bolton (whomthe reader, no doubt, has recognised in the young lady of the cab) toArthur Pendennis, advancing to meet her.
Arthur, too, looked dark and suspicious on perceiving Mr. Samuel Huxterin company with his old acquaintances: his suspicion was that of alarmedmorality, and, I dare say, highly creditable to Mr. Arthur: like thesuspicion of Mrs. Lynx, when she sees Mr. Brown and Mrs. Jones talkingtogether, or when she remarks Mrs. Lamb twice or thrice in a handsomeopera-box. There may be no harm in the conversation of Mr. B. and Mr.J.: and Mrs. Lamb's opera-box (though she notoriously can't afford one)may be honestly come by: but yet a moralist like Mrs. Lynx has a rightto the little precautionary fright: and Arthur was no doubt justified inadopting that severe demeanour of his.
Fanny's heart began to patter violently: Huxter's fists, plunged intothe pockets of his paletot, clenched themselves involuntarily and armedthemselves, as it were, in ambush: Mrs. Bolton began to talk with allher might, and with a wonderful volubility: and Lor! she was so 'applyto see Mr. Pendennis, and how well he was a-lookin', and we'd beentalking' about Mr. P. only jest before; hadn't we, Fanny? and if thiswas the famous Epsom races that they talked so much about, she didn'tcare, for her part, if she never saw them again. And how was MajorPendennis, and that kind Mr. Warrington, who brought Mr. P.'s greatkindness to Fanny? and she never would forget it, never: and Mr.Warrington was so tall, he almost broke his 'ead up against their lodgedoor. You recollect Mr. Warrington a-knocking' of his head--don't you,Fanny?
Whilst Mrs. Bolton was so discoursing, I wonder how many thousandsof thoughts passed through Fanny's mind, and what dear times, sadstruggles, lonely griefs, and subsequent shamefaced consolations wererecalled to her? What pangs had the poor little thing, as she thoughthow much she had loved him, and that she loved him no more? There hestood, about whom she was going to die ten months since, dandified,supercilious, with a black crape to his white hat, and jet buttons inhis shirt-front and a pink in his coat, that some one else had probablygiven him: with the tightest lavender-coloured gloves sewn with blackand the smallest of canes. And Mr. Huxter wore no gloves, and greatBlucher boots, and smelt very much of tobacco certainly; and looked, oh,it must be owned, he looked as if a bucket of water would do him a greatdeal of good! All these thoughts, and a myriad of others, rushed throughFanny's mind as her mamma was delivering herself of her speech, and asthe girl, from under her eyes, surveyed Pendennis--surveyed him entirelyfrom head to foot, the circle on his white forehead that his hat leftwhen he lifted it (his beautiful, beautiful hair had grown again), thetrinkets at his watch-chain, the ring on his hand under his glove, theneat shining boot, so, so unlike Sam's high-low!--and after her hand hadgiven a little twittering pressure to the lavender-coloured kid graspwhich was held out to it, and after her mother had delivered herself ofher speech, all Fanny could find to say was, "This is Mr. Samuel Huxterwhom you knew formerly, I believe, sir; Mr. Samuel, you know you knewMr. Pendennis formerly--and--and, will you take a little refreshment?"
These little words, tremulous and uncoloured as they were, yet wereunderstood by Pendennis in such a manner as to take a great load ofsuspicion from off his mind--of remorse, perhaps, from his heart. Thefrown on the countenance of the Prince of Fairoaks disappeared, and agood-natured smile and a knowing twinkle of the eyes illuminated hishighness's countenance. "I am very thirsty," he said, "and I will beglad to drink your health, Fanny; and I hope Mr. Huxter will pardon mefor having been very rude to him the last time we met, and when I wasso ill and out of spirits, that indeed I scarcely knew what I said." Andherewith the lavender-coloured Dexter kid-glove was handed out, in tokenof amity, to Huxter.
The dirty fist in the young surgeon's pocket was obliged to undoableitself, and come out of its ambush disarmed. The poor fellow himselffelt, as he laid it in Pen's hand, how hot his own was, and howblack--it left black marks on Pen's gloves; he saw them,--he wouldhave liked to have clenched it again and dashed it into the other'sgood-humoured face; and have seen, there upon that round, with Fanny,with all England looking on, which was the best man--he Sam Huxter ofBartholomew's, or that grinning dandy.
Pen with ineffable good-humour took a glass--he didn't mind what itwas--he was content to drink after the ladies; and he filled it withfrothing lukewarm beer, which he pronounced to be delicious, and whichhe drank cordially to the health of the party.
As he was drinking and talking on in an engaging manner, a young ladyin a shot dove-coloured dress, with a white parasol lined with pink,and the prettiest dove-coloured boots that ever stepped, passed by Pen,leaning on the arm of a stalwart gentleman with a military moustache.
The young lady clenched her little fist, and gave a mischievousside-look as she passed Pen. He of the mustachios burst out into ajolly laugh. He had taken off his hat to the ladies of cab No. 2002. Youshould have seen Fanny Bolton's eyes watching after the dove-colouredyoung lady. Immediately Huxter perceived the direction which they took,they ceased looking
after the dove-coloured nymph, and they turnedand looked into Sam Huxter's orbs with the most artless good-humouredexpression.
"What a beautiful creature!" Fanny said. "What a lovely dress! Did youremark, Mr. Sam, such little, little hands?"
"It was Capting Strong," said Mrs. Bolton: "and who was the young woman,I wonder?"
"A neighbour of mine in the country--Miss 'Amory,'" Arthur said,--"LadyClavering's daughter. You've seen Sir Francis often in Shepherd's Inn,Mrs. Bolton."
As he spoke, Fanny built up a perfect romance in three volumeslove--faithlessness--splendid marriage at St. George's, HanoverSquare--broken-hearted maid--and Sam Huxter was not the hero of thatstory--poor Sam, who by this time had got out an exceedingly rank Cubacigar, and was smoking it under Fanny's little nose.
After that confounded prig Pendennis joined and left the party, thesun was less bright to Sam Huxter, the sky less blue--the Sticks had noattraction for him--the bitter beer hot and undrinkable--the world waschanged. He had a quantity of peas and a tin pea-shooter in the pocketof the cab for amusement on the homeward route. He didn't take them out,and forgot their existence until some other wag, on their return fromthe races, fired a volley into Sam's sad face; upon which salute, aftera few oaths indicative of surprise, he burst into a savage and sardoniclaugh.
But Fanny was charming all the way home. She coaxed, and snuggled, andsmiled. She laughed pretty laughs; she admired everything; she took outthe darling little Jack-in-the-boxes, and was so obliged to Sam.And when they got home, and Mr. Huxter, still with darkness on hiscountenance, was taking a frigid leave of her--she burst into tears, andsaid he was a naughty unkind thing.
Upon which, with a burst of emotion almost as emphatic as hers, theyoung surgeon held the girl in his arms--swore that she was an angel,and that he was a jealous brute; owned that he was unworthy of her, andthat he had no right to hate Pendennis; and asked her, implored her, tosay once more that she----
That she what?--The end of the question and Fanny's answer werepronounced by lips that were so near each other, that no bystander couldhear the words. Mrs. Bolton only said, "Come, come, Mr. H.--no nonsense,if you please; and I think you've acted like a wicked wretch, and beenmost uncommon cruel to Fanny, that I do."
When Arthur left No. 2002, he went to pay his respects to the carriageto which, and to the side of her mamma, the dove-coloured author of MesLarmes had by this time returned. Indefatigable old Major Pendennis wasin waiting upon Lady Clavering, and had occupied the back seat in hercarriage; the box being in possession of young Hopeful, under the careof Captain Strong.
A number of dandies, and men of a certain fashion--of military bucks, ofyoung rakes of the public offices, of those who may be styled men's menrather than ladies'--had come about the carriage during its station onthe hill--and had exchanged a word or two with Lady Clavering, anda little talk (a little "chaff," some of the most elegant of themen styled their conversation) with Miss Amory. They had offered hersportive bets, and exchanged with her all sorts of free-talk and knowinginnuendoes. They pointed out to her who was on the course: and the "who"was not always the person a young lady should know.
When Pen came up to Lady Clavering's carriage, he had to push his waythrough a crowd of these young bucks who were paying their court to MissAmory, in order to arrive as near that young lady, who beckoned him bymany pretty signals to her side.
"Je lay vue," she said; "Elle a de bien beaux yeux; vous etes unmonster!"
"Why monster?" said Pen, with a laugh; "Hone suit qui mal y peens.My young friend, yonder, is as well protected as any young lady inChristendom. She has her mamma on one side, her pretend on the other.Could any harm happen to a girl between those two?"
"One does not know what may or may not arrive," said Miss Blanche, inFrench, "when a girl has the mind, and when she is pursued by a wickedmonster like you. Figure to yourself, Major, that I come to findMonsieur, your nephew, near to a cab, by two ladies, and a man, oh, sucha man! and who ate lobsters, and who laughed, who laughed!"
"It did not strike me that the man laughed," Pen said, "And as forlobsters, I thought he would have liked to eat me after the lobsters.He shook hands with me, and gripped me so, that he bruised my gloveblack-and-blue. He is a young surgeon. He comes from Clavering. Don'tyou remember the gilt pestle and mortar in High Street?"
"If he attends you when you are sick," continued Miss Amory, "he willkill you. He will serve you right; for you are a monster."
The perpetual recurrence to the word "monster" jarred upon Pen. "Shespeaks about these matters a great deal too lightly," he thought. "If Ihad been a monster, as she calls it, she would have received me justthe same. This is not the way in which an English lady should speak orthink. Laura would not speak in that way, thank God;" and as he thoughtso, his own countenance fell.
"Of what are you thinking? Are you going to bouder me at present?"Blanche asked. "Major, scold your mechant nephew. He does not amuse meat all. He is as bete as Captain Crackenbury."
"What are you saying about me, Miss Amory?" said the guardsman, with agrin. "If it's anything good, say it in English, for I don't understandFrench when it's spoke so devilish quick."
"It ain't anything good, Crack," said Crackenbury's fellow, CaptainClinker. "Let's come away, and don't spoil sport. They say Pendennis issweet upon her."
"I'm told he's a devilish clever fellow," sighed Crackenbury. "LadyViolet Lebas says he's a devilish clever fellow. He wrote a work, ora poem, or something; and he writes those devilish clever things inthe--in the papers, you know. Dammy, I wish I was a clever fellow,Clinker."
"That's past wishing for, Crack, my boy," the other said. "I can't writea good book, but I think I can make a pretty good one on the Derby. Whata flat Clavering is! And the Begum! I like that old Begum. She'sworth ten of her daughter. How pleased the old girl was at winning thelottery!"
"Clavering's safe to pay up, ain't he?" asked Captain Crackenbury.
"I hope so," said his friend; and they disappeared, to enjoy themselvesamong the Sticks.
Before the end of the day's amusements, many more gentlemen of LadyClavering's acquaintance came up to her carriage, and chatted withthe party which it contained. The worthy lady was in high spirits andgood-humour, laughing and talking according to her wont, and offeringrefreshments to all her friends, until her ample baskets and bottleswere emptied, and her servants and postillions were in such a royalstate of excitement as servants and postillions commonly are upon theDerby day.
The Major remarked that some of the visitors to the carriage appearedto look with rather queer and meaning glances towards its owner. "Howeasily she takes it!" one man whispered to another. "The Begum's madeof money," the friend replied. "How easily she takes what?" thought oldPendennis. "Has anybody lost any money?" Lady Clavering said she washappy in the morning because Sir Francis had promised her not to bet.
Mr. Welbore, the country neighbour of the Claverings, was passing thecarriage, when he was called back by the Begum, who rallied him forwishing to cut her. "Why didn't he come before? Why didn't he cometo lunch?" Her ladyship was in great delight, she told him--she toldeverybody, that she had won five pounds in a lottery. As she conveyedthis piece of intelligence to him, Mr. Welbore looked so particularlyknowing, and withal melancholy, that a dismal apprehension seizedupon Major Pendennis. "He would go and look after the horses and thoserascals of postillions, who were so long in coming round." When he cameback to the carriage, his usually benign and smirking countenancewas obscured by some sorrow. "What is the matter with you now?" thegood-natured Begum asked. The Major pretended a headache from thefatigue and sunshine of the day. The carriage wheeled off the course andtook its way Londonwards, not the least brilliant equipage in that vastand picturesque procession. The tipsy drivers dashed gallantly over theturf, amidst the admiration of foot-passengers, the ironical cheers ofthe little donkey-carriages and spring vans, and the loud objurgationsof horse-and-chaise men, with whom the reckless post-boys came incontact. The jolly Begum l
ooked the picture of good-humour as shereclined on her splendid cushions; the lovely Sylphide smiled withlanguid elegance. Many an honest holiday-maker with his family waddedinto a tax-cart, many a cheap dandy working his way home on his wearyhack, admired that brilliant turn-out, and thought, no doubt, how happythose "swells" must be. Strong sat on the box still, with a lordly voicecalling to the post-boys and the crowd. Master Frank had been put insideof the carriage and was asleep there by the side of the Major, dozingaway the effects of the constant luncheon and champagne of which he hadfreely partaken.
The Major was revolving in his mind meanwhile the news the receipt ofwhich had made him so grave. "If Sir Francis Clavering goes on in thisway," Pendennis the elder thought, "this little tipsy rascal will be asbankrupt as his father and grandfather before him. The Begum's fortunecan't stand such drains upon it: no fortune can stand them: she has paidhis debts half a dozen times already. A few years more of the turf, anda few coups like this, will ruin her."
"Don't you think we could get up races at Clavering, mamma?" Miss Amoryasked. "Yes, we must have them there again. There were races there inthe old times, the good old times. It's a national amusement, you know:and we could have a Clavering ball: and we might have dances for thetenantry, and rustic sports in the park--Oh, it would be charming."
"Capital fun," said mamma. "Wouldn't it, Major?"
"The turf is a very expensive amusement, my dear lady," Major Pendennisanswered, with such a rueful face, that the Begum rallied him, and askedlaughingly whether he had lost money on the race?
After a slumber of about an hour and a half, the heir of the house beganto exhibit symptoms of wakefulness, stretching his youthful arms overthe Major's face, and kicking his sister's knees as she sate oppositeto him. When the amiable youth was quite restored to consciousness, hebegan a sprightly conversation.
"I say, Ma," he said, "I've gone and done it this time, I have."
"What have you gone and done, Franky dear?" asked Mamma.
"How much is seventeen half-crowns? Two pound and half-a crown, ain'tit? I drew Borax in our lottery, but I bought Podasokus and Man-millinerof Leggat minor for two open tarts and a bottle of ginger-beer."
"You little wicked gambling creature, how dare you begin so soon?" criedMiss Amory.
"Hold your tongue, if you please. Who ever asked your leave, miss?" thebrother said. "And I say, Ma----"
"Well, Franky dear?"
"You'll tip me all the same, you know, when I go back----" and here hebroke out into a laugh. "I say, Ma, shall I tell you something?"
The Begum expressed her desire to hear this something, and her son andheir continued:
"When me and Strong was down at the grand stand after the race, and Iwas talking to Leggat minor, who was there with his governor, I saw Palook as savage as a bear. And I say, Ma, Leggat minor told me thathe heard his governor say that Pa had lost seven thousand backing thefavourite. I'll never back the favourite when I'm of age. No, no--hangme if I do: leave me alone, Strong, will you?"
"Captain Strong! Captain Strong! is this true?" cried out theunfortunate Begum. "Has Sir Francis been betting again? He promised mehe wouldn't. He gave me his word of honour he wouldn't."
Strong, from his place on the box, had overheard the end of youngClavering's communication, and was trying in vain to stop his unluckytongue.
"I'm afraid it's true, ma'am," he said, turning round, "I deplore theloss as much as you can. He promised me as he promised you; but the playis too strong for him! he can't refrain from it."
Lady Clavering at this sad news burst into a fit of tears. She deploredher wretched fate as the most miserable of women, she declared she wouldseparate, and pay no more debts for the ungrateful man. She narratedwith tearful volubility a score of stories only too authentic, whichshowed how her husband had deceived, and how constantly she hadbefriended him: and in this melancholy condition, whilst young Hopefulwas thinking about the two guineas which he himself had won; and theMajor revolving, in his darkened mind, whether certain plans which hehad been forming had better not be abandoned; the splendid carriagedrove up at length to the Begum's house in Grosvenor Place; the idlersand boys lingering about the place to witness, according to public wont,the close of the Derby Day, cheering the carriage as it drew up, andenvying the happy folks who descended from it.
"And it's for the son of this man that I am made a beggar!" Blanchesaid, quivering with anger, as she walked upstairs leaning on theMajor's arm--"for this cheat--for this blackleg--for this liar--for thisrobber of women."
"Calm yourself, my dear Miss Blanche," the old gentleman said; "I praycalm yourself. You have been hardly treated, most unjustly. But rememberthat you have always a friend in me, and trust to an old fellow who willtry and serve you."
And the young lady, and the heir of the hopeful house of Clavering,having retired to their beds, the remaining three of the Epsom partyremained for some time in deep consultation.
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