The first mental memorandum in regard to this came from the writer’s assertion that he at forty would have eaten up all his good things. No! He being a man might make his way to good things though he was not born to them. He surely would win his good things for himself. But what good things were in store for her? What chance of success was there for her? But the reflection which was the most bitter to her of all came from her assurance that his love for that other girl was so genuine. Even when he was writing to her there was no spark left of the old romance! Some hint of a recollection of past feelings, some half-concealed reference to the former passion might have been allowed to him! She as a woman—as a woman all whose fortune must depend on marriage—could indulge in no such allusions; but surely he need not have been so hard!
But still there was another memorandum. At the present moment she would do all that he desired as far as it was in her power. She was anxious that he should marry Lady Mary Palliser, though so anxious also that something of his love should remain with herself! She was quite willing to convey that message—if it might be done without offence to the Duke. She was there with the object of ingratiating herself with the Duke. She must not impede her favour with the Duke by making herself the medium of any secret communications between Mary and her lover.
But how should she serve Tregear without risk of offending the Duke? She read the letter again and again, and thinking it to be a good letter she determined to show it to the Duke.
“Mr. Tregear has got in at Polpenno,” she said on the day on which she and the Duke had received their letters.
“So I hear from Silverbridge.”
“It will be a good thing for him, I suppose.”
“I do not know,” said the Duke coldly.
“He is my cousin, and I have always been interested in his welfare.”
“That is natural.”
“And a seat in Parliament will give him something to do.”
“Certainly it ought,” said the Duke.
“I do not think that he is an idle man.” To this the Duke made no answer. He did not wish to be made to talk about Tregear. “May I tell you why I say all this?” she asked softly, pressing her hand on the Duke’s arm ever so gently. To this the Duke assented, but still coldly. “Because I want to know what I ought to do. Would you mind reading that letter? Of course you will remember that Frank and I have been brought up almost as brother and sister.”
The Duke took the letter in his hand and did read it, very slowly. “What he says about young men without means going into Parliament is true enough.” This was not encouraging, but as the Duke went on reading, Mabel did not think it necessary to argue the matter. He had to read the last paragraph twice before he understood it. He did read it twice, and then folding the letter very slowly gave it back to his companion.
“What ought I to do?” asked Lady Mabel.
“As you and I, my dear, are friends, I think that any carrying of a message to Mary would be breaking confidence. I think that you should not speak to Mary about Mr. Tregear.” Then he changed the subject. Lady Mabel of course understood that after that she could not say a word to Mary about the election at Polpenno.
LVII
The Meeting at The Bobtailed Fox
It was now the middle of December, and matters were not comfortable in the Runnymede country. The Major with much pluck had carried on his operations in opposition to the wishes of the resident members of the hunt. The owners of coverts had protested, and farmers had sworn that he should not ride over their lands. There had even been some talk among the younger men of thrashing him if he persevered. But he did persevere, and had managed to have one or two good runs. Now it was the fortune of the Runnymede hunt that many of those who rode with the hounds were strangers to the country—men who came down by train from London, gentlemen of perhaps no great distinction, who could ride hard, but as to whom it was thought that as they did not provide the land to ride over, or the fences to be destroyed, or the coverts for the foxes, or the greater part of the subscription, they ought not to oppose those by whom all these things were supplied. But the Major, knowing where his strength lay, had managed to get a party to support him. The contract to hunt the country had been made with him in last March, and was good for one year. Having the kennels and the hounds under his command he did hunt the country; but he did so amidst a storm of contumely and ill will.
At last it was decided that a general meeting of the members of the hunt should be called together with the express object of getting rid of the Major. The gentlemen of the neighbourhood felt that the Major was not to be borne, and the farmers were very much stronger against him than the gentlemen. It had now become a settled belief among sporting men in England that the Major had with his own hands driven the
