“And so I do,” said Silverbridge.
When the ladies were gone the old Earl turned himself round to the fire, having filled his glass and pushed the bottles away from him, as though he meant to leave the two young men to themselves. He sat leaning with his head on his hand, looking the picture of woe. It was now only nine o’clock, and there would be no whist at the Beaufort till eleven. There was still more than an hour to be endured before the brougham would come to fetch him. “I suppose we shall have a majority,” said Frank, trying to rouse him.
“Who does ‘We’ mean?” asked the Earl.
“The Conservatives, of whom I take the liberty to call myself one.”
“It sounded as though you were a very influential member of the party.”
“I consider myself to be one of the party, and so I say ‘We.’ ”
Upstairs in the drawing-room Miss Cassewary did her duty loyally. It was quite right that young ladies and young gentlemen should be allowed to talk together, and very right indeed that such a young gentleman as Lord Silverbridge should be allowed to talk to such a young lady as Lady Mabel. What could be so nice as a marriage between the heir of the house of Omnium and Lady Mabel Grex? Lady Mabel looked indeed to be the elder—but they were in truth the same age. All the world acknowledged that Lady Mabel was very clever and very beautiful and fit to be a Duchess. Even the Earl, when Miss Cassewary hinted at the matter to him, grunted an assent. Lady Mabel had already refused one or two not ineligible offers, and it was necessary that something should be done. There had been at one time a fear in Miss Cassewary’s bosom lest her charge should fall too deeply in love with Frank Tregear;—but Miss Cassewary knew that whatever danger there might have been in that respect had passed away. Frank was willing to talk to her, while Mabel and Lord Silverbridge were in a corner together.
“I shall be on tenterhooks now till I know how it is to be at Silverbridge,” said the young lady.
“It is very good of you to feel so much interest.”
“Of course I feel an interest. Are not you one of us? When is it to be?”
“They say that the elections will be over before the Derby.”
“And which do you care for the most?”
“I should like to pull off the Derby, I own.”
“From what papa says, I should think the other event is the more probable.”
“Doesn’t the Earl stand to win on Prime Minister?”
“I never know anything about his betting. But—you know his way—he said you were going to drop a lot of money like a—I can’t quite tell you what he likened you to.”
“The Earl may be mistaken.”
“You are not betting much, I hope.”
“Not plunging. But I have a little money on.”
“Don’t get into a way of betting.”
“Why:—what difference does it make—to you?”
“Is that kind, Lord Silverbridge?”
“I meant to say that if I did make a mess of it you wouldn’t care about it.”
“Yes, I should. I should care very much. I dare say you could lose a great deal of money and care nothing about it.”
“Indeed I could not.”
“What would be a great deal of money to me. But you would want to get it back again. And in that way you would be regularly on the turf.”
“And why not?”
“I want to see better things from you.”
“You ought not to preach against the turf, Lady Mab.”
“Because of papa? But I am not preaching against the turf. If I were such as you are I would have a horse or two myself. A man in your position should do a little of everything. You should hunt and have a yacht, and stalk deer and keep your own trainer at Newmarket.”
“I wish you’d say all that to my father.”
“Of course I mean if you can afford it. I like a man to like pleasure. But I despise a man who makes a business of his pleasures. When I hear that this man is the best whist-player in London, and that man the best billiard-player, I always know that they can do nothing else, and then I despise them.”
“You needn’t despise me, because I do nothing well,” said he, as he got up to take his leave.
“I do so hope you’ll get the seat—and win the Derby.”
These were her last words to him as she wished him good night.
X
“Why Not Like Romeo if I Feel Like Romeo?”
“That’s nonsense, Miss Cass, and I shall,” said Lady Mabel. They were together, on the morning after the little dinner-party described in the last chapter, in a small back sitting-room which was supposed to be Lady Mabel’s own, and the servant had just announced the fact that Mr. Tregear was below.
“Then I shall go down too,” said Miss Cassewary.
“You’ll do nothing of the kind. Will you please to tell me what it is you are afraid of? Do you think that Frank is going to make love to me again?”
“No.”
“Or that if I chose that he should I would let you stop me? He is in love with somebody else—and perhaps I am too. And we are two paupers.”
“My lord would not approve of it.”
“If you know what my lord approves of and what he disapproves you understand him a great deal better than I do. And if you mind what he approves or disapproves, you care for his opinion a great deal more than I do. My cousin is here now to talk to me—about his own affairs, and I mean to see him—alone.” Then she left the little room, and went down to that in which Frank was waiting for her, without the company of Miss Cassewary.
“Do you really mean,” she said after they had been together for some minutes, “that you had the courage to ask
