“You do not know my father.”
“Is he so inexorable?”
“It is not that, Mabel. But he is so unhappy. I cannot add to his unhappiness by taking part against him.”
In another part of the room Lady Cantrip was busy with Lord Popplecourt. She had talked about pheasants, and had talked about grouse, had talked about moving the address in the House of Lords in some coming Session, and the great value of political alliances early in life, till the young peer began to think that Lady Cantrip was the nicest of women. Then after a short pause she changed the subject.
“Don’t you think Lady Mary very beautiful?”
“Uncommon,” said his Lordship.
“And her manners so perfect. She has all her mother’s ease without any of that—You know what I mean.”
“Quite so,” said his Lordship.
“And then she has got so much in her.”
“Has she though?”
“I don’t know any girl of her age so thoroughly well educated. The Duke seems to take to you.”
“Well, yes;—the Duke is very kind.”
“Don’t you think—?”
“Eh!”
“You have heard of her mother’s fortune?”
“Tremendous!”
“She will have, I take it, quite a third of it. Whatever I say I’m sure you will take in confidence; but she is a dear dear girl; and I am anxious for her happiness almost as though she belonged to me.”
Lord Popplecourt went back to town in the Duke’s carriage, but was unable to say a word about politics. His mind was altogether filled with the wonderful words that had been spoken to him. Could it be that Lady Mary had fallen violently in love with him? He would not at once give himself up to the pleasing idea, having so thoroughly grounded himself in the belief that female nets were to be avoided. But when he got home he did think favourably of it. The daughter of a Duke—and such a Duke! So lovely a girl, and with such gifts! And then a fortune which would make a material addition to his own large property!
XXXVI
Tallyho Lodge
We all know that very clever distich concerning the great fleas and the little fleas which tells us that no animal is too humble to have its parasite. Even Major Tifto had his inferior friend. This was a certain Captain Green—for the friend also affected military honours. He was a man somewhat older than Tifto, of whose antecedents no one was supposed to know anything. It was presumed of him that he lived by betting, and it was boasted by those who wished to defend his character that when he lost he paid his money like a gentleman. Tifto during the last year or two had been anxious to support Captain Green, and had always made use of this argument: “Where the d⸺ he gets his money I don’t know;—but when he loses, there it is.”
Major Tifto had a little “box” of his own in the neighbourhood of Egham, at which he had a set of stables a little bigger than his house, and a set of kennels a little bigger than his stables. It was here he kept his horses and hounds, and himself too when business connected with his sporting life did not take him to town. It was now the middle of August and he had come to Tallyho Lodge, there to look after his establishments, to make arrangements for cub-hunting, and to prepare for the autumn racing campaign. On this occasion Captain Green was enjoying his hospitality and assisting him by sage counsels. Behind the little box was a little garden—a garden that was very little; but, still, thus close to the parlour window, there was room for a small table to be put on the grass-plat, and for a couple of armchairs. Here the Major and the Captain were seated about eight o’clock one evening, with convivial good things within their reach. The good things were gin-and-water and pipes. The two gentlemen had not dressed strictly for dinner. They had spent a great part of the day handling the hounds and the horses, dressing wounds, curing sores, and ministering to canine ailments, and had been detained over their work too long to think of their toilet. As it was they had an eye to business. The stables at one corner and the kennels at the other were close to the little garden, and the doings of a man and a boy who were still at work among the animals could be directed from the armchairs on which the two sportsmen were sitting.
It must be explained that ever since the Silverbridge election there had been a growing feeling in Tifto’s mind that he had been ill-treated by his partner. The feeling was strengthened by the admirable condition of Prime Minister. Surely more consideration had been due to a man who had produced such a state of things!
“I wouldn’t quarrel with him, but I’d make him pay his way,” said the prudent Captain.
“As for that, of course he does pay—his share.”
“Who does all the work?”
“That’s true.”
“The fact is, Tifto, you don’t make enough out of it. When a small man like you has to deal with a big man like that, he may take it out of him in one of two ways. But he must be deuced clever if he can get it both ways.”
“What are you driving at?” asked Tifto, who did not like being called a small man, feeling himself to be every inch a Master of foxhounds.
“Why, this!—Look at that d⸺ fellow fretting that ’orse with a switch. If you can’t strap a ’orse without a stick in your hand, don’t you strap him at all, you—” Then there came a volley of abuse out of the Captain’s mouth, in the middle of which the man threw
