CHAPTER. XX.
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 towhom we have been introduced in the course of this history, wereassembled to see the Derby. In a comfortable open carriage, which hadbeen brought to the ground by a pair of horses, might be seen Mrs.Bungay, of Paternoster-row, attired like Solomon in all his glory, andhaving by her side modest Mrs. Shandon, for whom, since thecommencement of their acquaintance, the worthy publisher's lady hadmaintained a steady friendship. Bungay, having recreated himself witha copious luncheon, was madly shying at the sticks hard by, till theperspiration ran off his bald pate. Shandon was shambling about amongthe drinking tents and gipsies: Finucane constant in attendance on thetwo ladies, to whom gentlemen of their acquaintance, and connectedwith the publishing house, 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 Muffineer the better horse. He pointed out countless dukes andgrandees to the delighted Mrs. Bungay. "Look yonder in the GrandStand," he said. "There sits the Chinese embassador with the mandarinsof his suite. Fou-choo-foo brought me over letters of introductionfrom the Governor-general of India, my most intimate friend, and I wasfor some time very kind to him, and he had his chop-sticks laid forhim at my table whenever he chose to come and dine. But he brought hisown cook with him, and--would you believe it, Mrs. Bungay?--one day,when I was out, and the embassador was with Mrs. Archer in our gardeneating gooseberries, of which the Chinese are passionately fond, thebeast of a cook, seeing my wife's dear little Blenheim spaniel (that wehad from the Duke of Maryborough himself, whose ancestor's life Mrs.Archer's great-great-grandfather saved at the battle of Malplaquet),seized upon the poor little devil, cut his throat, and skinned him,and served him up 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! Thecook came screaming up-stairs, and told us that she had found poorFido's skin in the area, just after we had all of us tasted of thedish! She never would speak to the embassador again--never; and, uponmy word, he has never been to dine with us since. The Lord Mayor, whodid me the honor to dine, liked the dish very much; and, eaten withgreen peas, it tastes rather 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 theembassador: that is Lady Flamingo, and they say she is going to bemarried to him, and return to Pekin with his Excellency. She isgetting her feet squeezed down on purpose. But she'll only crippleherself, and will never be able to do it--never. My wife has thesmallest foot in England, and wears shoes for a six-year's old child;but what is that to a Chinese lady's foot, Mrs. Bungay?"
"Who is that carriage as Mr. Pendennis is with, Mr. Archer?" Mrs.Bungay presently asked. "He and Mr. Warrington was here just now. He's'aughty in his manners, that Mr. Pendennis, and well he may be, forI'm told he keeps tip-top company. As he 'ad a large fortune lefthim, 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 every thing 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 doesany thing 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. Howdo you do, my Lord?--Do you know that gentleman, ladies? You have readhis speeches 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't you 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 them mymost 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 havebeen at sixty-five Derbies! appeared on the field for the first timeon a piebald pony when I was seven years old, with my father, thePrince of Wales, and Colonel Hanger; and only missing two races--onewhen I had the measles at Eton, and one in the Waterloo year, when Iwas with my friend 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 upon myfriend 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 fatalpassion for Miss Amory, who refused him, but was cut down just in timeby his valet, 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 orfour years ago, he would turn out such a grand character! Why, I sawhis name at court the other day, and presented by the Marquis ofSteyne and all; and in every party of the nobility his name's down, assure as a gun."
"I introduced him a good deal when he first came up to town," Mr.Archer said, "and his uncle, Major Pendennis, did the rest. Halloo!There's Cobden here, of all men in the world! I must go and speak tohim. Good-by, 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 thegreat event of the day--the Derby race--rushed over the green sward,and by the shouting millions of people assembled to view thatmagnificent scene. This was Wheeler's (the "Harlequin's Head") drag,which had brought down a company of choice spirits from Bow-street,with a slap-up luncheon in the "boot." As the whirling race flashedby, each of the choice spirits bellowed out the name of the horse orthe colors which he thought or he hoped might be foremost. "TheCornet!" "It's Muffineer!" "It's blue sleeves!'" "Yallow cap! yallowcap! yallow cap!" and so forth, yelled the gentlemen sportsmen duringthat delicious and thrilling minute before the contest was decided;and as the fluttering signal blew out, showing the number of thefamous horse Podasokus as winner of the race, one of the gentlemen onthe "Harlequin's Head" drag sprang up off the roof, as if he was apigeon 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,to which he came down again on the instant, causing the boards of thecrazy old coach-roof to crack with the weight of his joy. "Hurrah,hurrah!" he bawled out, "Podasokus is the horse! Supper for tenWheeler, 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 hisneighbor with suspicion, lest that neighbor, 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 ofthat afternoon, so closely did his friends watch him and each other.
At another part of the course you might have seen a
vehicle, certainlymore modest, 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 thecab-stand 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 the hill,forsook these fascinations to have a glance at the smiling androsy-cheeked lass on the cab. The blushes of youth and good-humormantled on the girl's cheeks, and played over that fair countenancelike the pretty shining cloudlets on the serene sky over head; theelder lady's cheek was red too; but that was a permanent mottled rose,deepening only as it received fresh draughts of pale ale andbrandy-and-water, until her face emulated the rich shell of thelobster which 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 delightfuldrive from London, his jokes had never ceased. He spoke up undauntedlyto the most awful drags full of the biggest and most solemn guardsmen;as to the humblest donkey-chaise in which Bob the dustman was drivingMolly to the race. He had fired astonishing volleys of what is called"chaff" into endless windows as he passed; into lines of grinninggirls' schools; into little regiments of shouting urchins hurrahingbehind the railings of their classical and commercial academies; intocasements whence smiling maid-servants, and nurses tossing babies, ordemure old maiden ladies with dissenting countenances, were looking.And the pretty girl in the straw bonnet with pink ribbon, and hermamma the devourer of lobsters, had both agreed that when he was in"spirits" there was nothing like that Mr. Sam. He had crammed the cabwith trophies won from the bankrupt proprietors of the sticks hard by,and with countless pincushions, wooden-apples, backy-boxes,Jack-in-the-boxes, and little soldiers. He had brought up a gipsy witha tawny child in her arms to tell the fortunes of the ladies; and theonly cloud which momentarily obscured the sunshine of that happyparty, was when the teller of fate informed the young lady that shehad had reason to beware of a fair man, who was false to her: that shehad had a bad illness, and that she would find that a dark man wouldprove true.
The girl looked very much abashed at this news: her mother and theyoung man interchanged signs of wonder and intelligence. Perhaps theconjuror had used the same words to a hundred different carriageson that day.
Making his way solitary among 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 suddenlyupon cab 2002, and the little group of persons assembled on theoutside of the vehicle. As he caught sight of the young lady on thebox, she started and turned pale: her mother became redder than ever:the heretofore gay and triumphant Mr. Sam. immediately assumed afierce and suspicious look, and his eyes turned savagely from FannyBolton (whom the reader no doubt, has recognized in the young lady ofthe cab) to Arthur Pendennis, advancing to meet her.
Arthur too, looked dark and suspicious on perceiving Mr. SamuelHuxter in company with his old acquaintances: but his suspicion wasthat of alarmed morality, and, I dare say, highly creditable to Mr.Arthur: like the suspicion of Mrs. Lynx, when she sees Mr. Brown andMrs. Jones talking together, or when she remarks Mrs. Lamb twice orthrice in a handsome opera-box. There _may_ be no harm in theconversation of Mr. B. and Mrs. J.: and Mrs. Lamb's opera box (thoughshe notoriously can't afford one) may be honestly come by: but yet amoralist like Mrs. Lynx has a right to the little precautionaryfright: and Arthur was no doubt justified in adopting that severedemeanor of his.
Fanny's heart began to patter violently: Huxter's fists, plunged intothe pockets of his paletot, clenched themselves involuntarily, andarmed themselves, as it were, in ambush: Mrs. Bolton began to talkwith all her might, and with a wonderful volubility: and Lor! she wasso 'appy to see Mr. Pendennis, and how well he was a lookin', and we'dbeen talkin' about Mr. P. only jest before; hadn't we, Fanny? and ifthis was the famous Hepsom races that they talked so much about, shedidn't care, for her part, if she never saw them again. And how wasMajor Pendennis, and that kind Mr. Warrington, who brought Mr. P'sgreat kindness to Fanny; and she never would forget it, never: and Mr.Warrington was so tall, he almost broke his 'ead up against theirlodge door. You recollect Mr. Warrington a knockin' of his head--don'tyou, Fanny?
While Mrs. Bolton was so discoursing, I wonder how many thousands ofthoughts passed through Fanny's mind, and what dear times, sadstruggles, lonely griefs, and subsequent shame-faced 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 hadprobably given him: with the tightest lavender-colored gloves sewnwith black: and the smallest of canes. And Mr. Huxter wore no gloves,and great blucher boots, and smelt very much of tobacco certainly; andlooked, oh, it must be owned, he looked as if a bucket of water woulddo him a great deal of good! All these thoughts, and a myriad ofothers rushed through Fanny's mind as her mamma was delivering herselfof her speech, and as the girl, from under her eyes, surveyedPendennis--surveyed him entirely from head to foot, the circle on hiswhite forehead that his hat left when he lifted it (his beautiful,beautiful hair had grown again), the trinkets at his watch-chain, thering on his hand under his glove, the neat shining boot, so, so unlikeSam's high-low!--and after her hand had given a little twitteringpressure to the lavender-colored kid grasp which was held out to it,and after her mother had delivered herself of her speech, all Fannycould find to say was, "This is Mr. Samuel Huxter whom you knewformerly, I believe, sir; Mr. Samuel, you know you knew Mr. Pendennisformerly--and--and--will you take a little refreshment?" Theselittle words tremulous and uncolored as they were, yet were understoodby Pendennis in such a manner as to take a great load of suspicionfrom off his mind--of remorse, perhaps from his heart. The frown onthe 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."And herewith the lavender-colored dexter kid-glove was handed out, intoken of amity, to Huxter.
The dirty fist in the young surgeon's pocket was obliged to undoubleitself, 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 would haveliked to have clenched it again and dashed it into the other'sgood-humored face; and have seen, there upon that ground, 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-humor 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-colored dress, with a white parasol lined with pink,and the prettiest dove-colored boots that ever stepped, passed by Pen,leaning on the arm of a stalwart gentleman with a military mustache.The young lady clenched her little fist, and gave a mischievousside-look as she passed Pen. He of the mustaches burst out into ajolly laugh. He had taken off his hat to the ladies of cab No. 2002.You should have seen Fanny Bolton's eyes watching after thedove-colored young lady. Immediately Huxter perceived the directionwhich they took, they ceased looking after the dove-co
lored nymph, andthey turned and looked into Sam Huxter's orbs with the most artlessgood-humored expression.
"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 youngwoman, I wonder?"
"A neighbor 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 volumes--love--faithlessness--splendid marriage at St. George's, Hanover-square--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 hadno attraction for him--the bitter beer hot and undrinkable--the worldwas changed. He had a quantity of peas and a tin pea-shooter in thepocket of the cab for amusement on the homeward route. He didn't takethem out, and forgot their existence until some other wag, on theirreturn from the races, fired a volley into Sam's sad face; upon whichsalute, after a few oaths indicative of surprise, he burst into asavage and sardonic laugh.
But Fanny was charming all the way home. She coaxed, and snuggled, andsmiled. She laughed pretty laughs; she admired everything; she tookout the 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,and said 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,and that he had no right to hate Pendennis; and asked her, imploredher, to say 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 bystandercould hear the words. Mrs. Bolton only said, "Come, come, Mr. H.--nononsense, if you please; and I think you've acted like a wickedwretch, and been most 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 colored author of_Mes Larmes_ had by this time returned. Indefatigable old MajorPendennis was in waiting upon Lady Clavering, and had occupied theback seat in her carriage; the box being in possession of youngHopeful, under the care of Captain Strong.
A number of dandies, and men of a certain fashion--of military bucks,of young rakes of the public offices, of those who may be styled men'smen rather than ladies'--had come about the carriage during itsstation on the hill--and had exchanged a word or two with LadyClavering, and a little talk (a little "chaff" some of the mostelegant of the men styled their conversation) with Miss Amory. Theyhad offered her sportive bets, and exchanged with her all sorts offree-talk and knowing innuendoes. They pointed out to her who was onthe course: and the "who" was not always the person a young ladyshould 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 toMiss Amory, in order to arrive as near that young lady, who beckonedhim by many pretty signals to her side.
"Je l'ai vue," she said; "elle a de bien beaux yeux; vous etes unmonstre!"
"Why monster?" said Pen, with a laugh; "Honi soit qui mal y pense.My young friend, yonder, is as well protected as any young lady inChristendom. She has her mamma on one side, her 'pretendu' on theother. 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, colonel, that I come to findmonsieur, your nephew, near to a cab, by two ladies, and a man, oh,such a 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 griped 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. "IfI had 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 hethought so, 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 amuseme at all. He is as _bete_ as Captain Crackenbury."
"What are you saying about me, Miss Amory?" said the guardsman, with agrin. "If it's any thing good, say it in English, for I don'tunderstand French when it's spoke so devilish quick."
"It _ain't_ any thing good, Crack," said Crackenbury's fellow, CaptainClinker. "Let's come away, and don't spoil sport. They say Pendennisis sweet 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, or apoem, or something; and he writes those devilish clever things inthe--in the papers you know. Dammy, I wish I was a cleverfellow, Clinker."
"That's past wishing for, Crack, my boy," the other said. "I can'twrite a good book, but I think I can make a pretty good one on theDerby. What a flat Clavering is! And the Begum! I like that old Begum.She's worth ten of her daughter. How pleased the old girl was atwinning the lottery!"
"Clavering's safe to pay up, ain't he?" asked Captain Crackenbury. "Ihope 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 with theparty which it contained. The worthy lady was in high spirits andgood-humor, 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 toward its owner. "Howeasily she takes it!" one man whispered to another. "The Begum's madeof money," the friend replied. "How easily she takes what?" thoughtold Pendennis. "Has any body lost any money?" Lady Clavering said shewas happy in the morning because Sir Francis had promised her notto bet.
Mr. Welbore, the country neighbor 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 come tolunch?" Her ladyship was in great delight, she told him--she toldevery body--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 seized uponMajor Pendennis. "He would go and look after the horses and thoserascals of postillions, who were so long in coming round." When hecame back 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 courseand took its way Londonwards, not the least brilliant equipage in thatvast and picturesque procession. The tipsy drivers dashed gallantlyover the turf, amid the admiration of foot-passengers, the ironicalcheers of the little donkey-carriages and spring vans, and the loudobjurgations of horse-and-chaise men, with whom the reckless post-boyscame in contact. The jolly Begum looked the picture of good humor
asshe reclined 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, howhappy those "swells" must be. Strong sat on the box still, with alordly voice calling to the post-boys and the crowd. Master Frank hadbeen put inside of the carriage and was asleep there by the side ofthe major, dozing away the effects of the constant luncheon andchampagne of which he had freely 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 beas bankrupt as his father and grandfather before him. The Begum'sfortune can't stand such drains upon it: no fortune can stand them:she has paid his debts half-a-dozen times already. A few years more ofthe turf, and a few coups like this will ruin her."
"Don't you think we could get up races at Clavering, mamma?" MissAmory asked. "Yes, we must have them there again. There were racesthere in the old times, the good old times. It's a national amusementyou know: and we could have a Clavering ball: and we might have dancesfor the tenantry, and rustic sports in the park--Oh, it would hecharming."
"Capital fun," said mamma. "Wouldn't it, major?"
"The turf is a very expensive amusement, my dear lady," MajorPendennis answered, with such a rueful face, that the Begum ralliedhim, and asked laughingly whether he had lost money on the race?
After a slumber of about an hour and a half, the heir of the housebegan to exhibit symptoms of wakefulness, stretching his youthful armsover the major's face, and kicking his sister's knees as she sateopposite to him. When the amiable youth was quite restored toconsciousness, he began a sprightly conversation.
"I say, ma," he said, "I've gone and done it this time, I have." "Whathave you gone and done, Franky, dear?" asked mamma. "How much isseventeen half-crowns?" "Two pound and half-a-crown, ain't it? I drewBorax in our lottery, but I bought Podasokus and Man-milliner ofLeggat minor for two open tarts and a bottle of ginger beer."
"You little wicked gambling creature, how dare you begin so soon?"cried Miss Amory.
"Hold _your_ tongue, if you please. Who ever asked _your_ leave,miss?" the brother 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 that heheard his governor say that pa had lost seven thousand backing thefavorite. I'll never back the favorite 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 honor 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 hisunlucky tongue.
"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 theplay is too strong for him! he can't refrain from it."
Lady Clavering at this sad news burst into a fit of tears. Shedeplored her wretched fate as the most miserable of woman. Shedeclared she would separate, and pay no more debts for this ungratefulman. She narrated with tearful volubility a score of stories only too authentic, which showed how her husband had deceived, and howconstantly she had befriended him: and in this melancholy condition,while young Hopeful was thinking about the two guineas which hehimself had won; and the major revolving, in his darkened mind,whether certain plans which he had been forming had better not beabandoned; the splendid carriage drove up at length to the Begum'shouse in Grosvenor-place; the idlers and boys lingering about theplace to witness, according to public wont, the close of the Derbyday, cheering the carriage as it drew up, and envying the happy folkswho 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 up stairs leaning on themajor's arm--"for this cheat--for this black-leg--for this liar--forthis robber of women."
"Calm yourself, my dear Miss Blanche," the old gentleman said; "I praycalm yourself. You have been hardly treated, most unjustly. Butremember that you have always a friend in me; and trust to an oldfellow who will try 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.