refused! rejected! lord ticehurst could scarcely believe it. "declined the honour," she said; that was the way she put it. declined the honour! "whish!" went the whip over the heads of the roans, who became marvellously unsteady at the sound, and reared, and plunged, and pulled, and caused the middle-aged groom once again to peer over the head of the phaeton more nervously and uncomfortably than ever.
lord ticehurst could not understand the experience of the morning. the more he thought over it the more preposterous it appeared to him. throughout the whole course of his life he had never had one wish thwarted. at eton his fag did his exercises, and at oxford the dons toadied him as dons only can toady; and in later life he had had henchmen innumerable, who bad received his every word as law. as for this affair with miss lambert, he--well, he didn't know; he had not been so cocksure about it at first, when he first began to be spooney on her. she was a deuced nice girl, there was no denying that,--clever, and all that kind of thing; sort of person that any fellow might be proud of to see sitting at the head of his table, and look deuced well at the opera, and all that. was not half so cocksure when he first began to be spooney; that was perhaps because he was spooney; fellows always thought they were not good enough for the woman they were spooney on; and--not good enough? that's a great notion! the idea of the earl of ticehurst not being good enough for--no, he couldn't say anything against her; she was an opera-singer, everyone knew, but she was a perfect lady. o d--, what a nuisance it was! since he had made up his mind to it he had begun to look upon it as quite certain, as a result about which there could not be the smallest doubt; and now he saw that all his conjectures had been false and his plans foundationless. what could be her motive? no question of hoping to hook a larger fish? that was absurd. lord ticehurst reflected with a certain amount of consolation that there were very few larger fish than he in the waters preserved for matrimonial angling, and of those few none were likely to make miss lambert an offer. not any question of personal objection? even if such a thing were probable to a person in his position, miss lambert's manner to him had always been courteous, and occasionally cordial. no one could have been making mischief about him? no, he thought not; he did not go in to be strait-laced, and all that kind of thing, any more than any other fellow of his age; but there was nothing that anyone could lay hold of and make a fuss about; his name was not mentioned in conjunction with any woman's, or anything of that kind that a woman might find objectionable in the man who wanted to marry her. what, then, could it be? could it be shyness, modesty, and all that? jove! he'd never thought of that, never looked at it in that light. could it be possible that miss lambert had refused him because she did not feel herself up to the mark--didn't think herself equal to the position which he had proposed to her to occupy? the notion was a very pleasant one to lord ticehurst; it gratified his vanity, and it gave him hope. it might come off after all! he had not had much experience of women--not of that sort, at least--and it was impossible to make them out; there was never any knowing what to do with them. after all, perhaps, she only wanted a little more pressing; he certainly had nipped off rather sharp, without asking her to explain, or anything of that kind. he supposed that was what fellows usually did,--asked the women "why," and all that sort of thing. "declined the honour," she said; perhaps if he had given her the chance she would not have declined it a second time. he would give her the chance; he would go over again to what's-a-name, old belwether's place, and tell miss lambert that he really meant it, and that--
as the thought of "what's-a-name, old belwether's place," passed through lord ticehurst's mind, simultaneously arose therein the very uncomfortable recollection of having seen miles challoner at the gate. the young nobleman's spirits, which had risen rapidly under the roseate influence of his hopes, sunk at once to zero when he remembered that gilbert lloyd had told him of the manner in which this man challoner was making "strong running" for miss lambert, and bade him beware of him as a dangerous rival. jove! that might account for her declining the honour, and all that. of course it was a ridiculous thing to imagine any woman taking a fellow like chaldecott--challoner, or whatever they called him--before a man in his position; but one never knew, it was impossible to say; and--he did not know what the deuce to do one way or the other.
"princes and women must not be contradicted," says the proverb. young noblemen, or old noblemen for the matter of that, with health and wealth, are pretty much in the same category. for the first time in his life lord ticehurst found himself debarred from the fulfilment of a special wish, and he raged inwardly and chafed against his destiny. he could have cried from sheer spite and vexation; he stamped his foot in his rage, and once more startled the roans out of all propriety. he felt that he was morally "cornered;" he did not like to give up all idea of this girl, for whom he had a certain liking and a certain passion, and in the possession of whom he would have had the justification of that pride which was perhaps the most thoroughly developed of all the various component parts of his character. on the other hand, he dared not run the chance of a second rejection, as the news of it might get wind, and he might be made to appear ridiculous; and, like most of his order, lord ticehurst was more afraid of ridicule than of anything else. to be laughed at had always been looked on by him as the greatest possible infliction, for he knew that neither his position nor his wealth rendered him invulnerable to "chaff;" and he was sufficiently man of the world to feel that these advantages in themselves would tempt the aim and barb the arrows of the sharpshooters. he could not face it out, by jove he couldn't! the mere thought of being bantered on the subject of his rejection by miss lambert gave an apoplectic hue to his lordship's cheeks, and brought large beads of perspiration on to his forehead.
"i couldn't stand it," he said half aloud, and forgetting the proximity of the serious groom. "gad! i think i should go mad, and that kind of thing. don't think i'll give old gil the chance of having a crow over me just yet. he's sure to ask me how i got on, and all that, and i'd better hold it over for an hour or two. he's rather spiky in his chaff, i've noticed lately, master gil is; i don't know what's come to him!"
so, on further reflection, lord ticehurst struck off the road leading to eastbourne, and turned back, tooling the roans along the st. leonards parade, to the immense delight of the promenaders there assembled, and finally pulling up at the door of the principal hotel in hastings. here he alighted, and bidding his groom to bring the phaeton round at eight in the evening, entered the hotel, ordered an early dinner, and strolled out on to the parade.
a person in lord ticehurst's position and of lord ticehurst's habits is almost certain to find a number of acquaintances in every place of anything like pretension to fashion which he may visit; and his lordship had not lounged up the promenade for more than a dozen paces ere his arrival was known to as many persons. old lady spills, who was always seated at the bow-window of her lodgings with a powerful opera-glass, marked the young nobleman's arrival at the hotel, and immediately called to her granddaughter, then resident with her, to get her hat and accompany her on the parade as quickly as possible. "not that it's of any use," the old lady remarked to herself; "for julia is as stupid as an owl, and not likely to be attractive even to the most innocent of youths, much less to a young man like this, who is, no doubt, perfectly able to take care of himself." the duke of doncaster, a melancholy old man, in a crumpled wig and dyed whiskers, wearing the bell-hat, large-checked neckerchief, and cutaway green coat of the past generation, was driving his team up and down the parade, solemnly and methodically as was his usual afternoon practice, and he recognised lord ticehurst's presence by jerking his whip-elbow into the air in true coachman-like fashion. the sisters lavrock, of the scandinavian opera and the nobility's concerts--brave little women, who in the off-season went round to the different watering-places, and made a good deal of money by giving a little musical entertainment--blushed and giggled in great delight as his good-natured lordship stopped them on the promenade, and inquired with unaffected interest after their well-doing. that eminent landscape-painter scumble, r.a., who had often met lord ticehurst at carabas house, over which mansion he seemed to have the right of free warren, happened to be staying at hastings, partly for the sake of studying marine effects, partly for the purpose of pacifying mrs. scumble, who had but a dull time of it in london; and he tore off his wideawake as he met lord ticehurst's eye, and pretended to have nothing to do with mrs. scumble, who at that moment was a little way off, placidly bargaining for a shell pincushion. lastly, bobby maitland--who had come ashore for two days from mr. stackborough's yacht, with the view of meeting his solicitor, and settling pecuniary matters during his absence--bobby maitland, looking over the blind of the coffee-room of the marine hotel, along which blind he had been thoughtfully rubbing his nose, spied his lordship, and announced his discovery to his friend stackborough in these flattering terms: "by jove, haystacks, old man, here's that ass ticehurst!"
"haystacks" and "old man" were both terms of endearment and familiarity. mr. stackborough was about three-and-twenty, very rich, very foolish, and with an irrepressible yearning for what he called "high society." he had chambers in the albany, splendid horses, a capital yacht, and more clothes than any other man in london. he was always extensively got-up, and never looked like a gentleman. bobby maitland, who lived with him and on him, could influence him on everything except his wardrobe--in that matter he always would have his own way. on the present occasion he was elaborately appareled in maritime fashion, dark-blue jacket with gilt buttons, very open white waistcoat, flap shirt-collar, trousers tight to the knee, then loose and flapping, black oilskin-hat with blue ribbon. mr. stackborough generally suited his language as far as possible to his style of costume. when that was horsey he talked turf, now he talked sea; consequently he said--
"ticehurst, eh? where does he hail from?"
"how the deuce should i know!" replied bobby. "he's only just come in sight."
"t'other craft in company, of course?" suggested mr. stackborough. "he's always under convoy, his is! t'other craft's close by, i suppose, or at all events in the offing." and mr. stackborough peered from under his hand at his friend as though scanning the horizon.
"look here, haystacks, old man!" said bobby maitland thoughtfully; "you must moderate your transports, you must indeed. there's too much of this bold-smuggler business about you--a deal too much. i daresay it's a kind of gaff that takes with some people, but it don't with me, and so you may as well drop it. it isn't good style either; so drop it, old flick, and tell me in the queen's english what you mean."
mr. stackborough wriggled uneasily in the maritime suit and blushed. "all right," he said after a minute's pause, "i'll take care. thank you for telling me, bobby. what i meant to say was, wasn't lloyd there? he's always with his, you know."
"o, i understand now! no; ticehurst seems to be by himself for a wonder. no doubt lloyd's close at hand, though; he never lets my lord go far without him."
"shall we 'bout ship and--i mean, shall we go out and speak to him?" asked mr. stackborough. it wasso difficult to resist the influence of the maritime garments.
"well, yes; there's no harm," said bobby, knowing his young friend was dying to speak to and be seen speaking to a recognised "swell."
so mr. stackborough put on the glazed hat with the blue ribbon, and they strolled into the street. now, though lord ticehurst did not much affect bobby maitland, and had a great contempt for mr. stackborough, he had such a horror of being alone and being thrown on his own resources for amusement, that, as soon as he saw these gentlemen approaching, he brightened up, and received them with a warmth which completely captivated mr. stackborough. bobby maitland was older and less enthusiastic. he disliked ticehurst; and as he knew there was nothing to be got out of his lordship, he always spoke to him with charming frankness.
"we could scarcely believe it was you, etchingham," said he, after the ordinary salutations had been exchanged.
"o, ah!" replied his lordship, "didn't expect to find me in this place, eh?"
"well, no, perhaps one wouldn't have thought of finding you here. nothing going on that you can understand--horses, i mean, and that kind of thing. but that was not what i meant."
"what did you mean, then?" asked his lordship somewhat crossly, for he understood and appreciated the sneer.
"well, we didn't think you were ever let out without your dry-nurse--lloyd, don't you know? don't be angry, old fellow, it's only my chaff!"
"it's a deuced bad style of chaff," said lord ticehurst, who had grown very white, and whose lips trembled as he spoke,--"a deuced bad style of chaff; and i'll trouble you not to try it on me, mr. maitland!"
"mr. maitland! come, that be hanged!" said bobby, who saw that he had gone a little too far. "i'm very sorry if i've offended you, etchingham, and i apologise. i can't say more."
the good-natured young man accepted the apology at once, and the three walked on together. lord ticehurst, then explaining that he was only in the town for a few hours, and that he had ordered a solitary dinner at the queen's hotel, was easily persuaded to let mr. stackborough (who was too delighted to fetch and carry for a lord) go and countermand it, while his lordship agreed to dine with his new-found acquaintances at the marine. so, to the intense delight of mr. stackborough, they strolled up and down the parade, listening to the band, looking after the pretty women, and criticising the horses. "haystacks" conversation became almost unintelligible during this walk; for lord ticehurst being eminently horsey, and the talk running on the breeding and look of horses, mr. stackborough would, under ordinary circumstances, have turned on the turf tap, and drawn his idioms from the stable; but the maritime clothes still from time to time asserted their influence, and the result was that the unfortunate youth got into a series of linguistic knots which he could not untie, and with which no one could assist him.
the dinner at the marine was a success. boffham, who keeps the hotel, had been chefto count krammetsvogel, of the hanoverian embassy, in former days, and had turned out many excellent official dinners, of which lord ticehurst's father had partaken. when he heard that the young lord was to be a guest of one of his guests, boffham went himself to the kitchen, and showed that neither time nor the gout had robbed his hand of its cunning. the wines too--notably some chateau yquem and some steinberger cabinet, which had been bought by boffham out of the krammetsvogel cellar when the count was recalled--were delicious; so delicious, that many bottles were drunk, and the hearts of the drinkers were warmed, and their tongues loosened. something which bobby maitland had said to him when they first met that day had stuck in lord ticehurst's throat. he had tried to swallow it, but the attempt had been unsuccessful. under the influence of the wine he felt he must mention it--he could see no reason why he should not.
"bobby!" he said, as they were sipping their claret, "my horses will be round in a minute; but i want to say two words to you before i go.--don't you move, mr. stacks," stackborough made a kind of blundering attempt to rise,--"don't you move, there's nothing secret or private,"--here lord ticehurst looked long and earnestly at the wick of the candle close by him, then proceeded--"or at least; if there is, you're far too good a fellow, stacks, to--to--you know what i mean.--so do you, bobby."
"all right, etchingham, old boy, i know," said mr. maitland "what do you want to say?" mr. maitland had to repeat his question, lord ticehurst having again become absorbed in the contemplation of the candle. "what do you want to say?"
"what do i want to say?" said his lordship, after a pause--"ah, that's just it! i wonder--o, i know! don't you know when you folks first met me to-day, you said something, bobby--something about lloyd?"
"yes, i recollect--what then?"
"you asked me where my nurse was, or something of that sort, didn't you?"
"i think i did."
"ah! just tell me, like a good fellow--is that the way men talk about me and lloyd?"
"what way?"
"do they say that he--that i--that he's like what you said, my nurse?"
"they say you daren't call your soul your own without his leave. that you never move hand or foot without him; some say he washes you and parts your hair; but that's their way of putting it. what they mean is, that he's your master, and you're his most obedient."
"and do you think lloyd knows they say this?"
"knows they say it!" repeated bobby maitland, with a loud vinous laugh; "knows they say it! why, he says it himself; boasts of it!"
"the deuce he does!" said lord ticehurst, rising with an unsteady gait. "that must be stopped! there are some things that a man can stand; and there are some things he----my carriage. thank you!--good-night, mr. stacks; very glad to have looked you up.--good-night, bobby; see you at doncaster, i suppose? no! well, then--never mind.--right, martin!" and his lordship dashed off at a tremendous pace, while the serious groom, who had seen his master reel on the phaeton-step, looked more serious than ever as he jumped up behind.
when the other two gentlemen returned to their room, mr. stackborough said, "he didn't half like what you said about lloyd just now. shouldn't wonder if there was a row when he gets home."
"serve master gil deuced well right," said maitland; "i've owed him one for a long time, and now i think i've paid him. teach him to give himself airs over me next time we meet in the ring."
"devilish pleasant, gentlemanly fellow is etchinghurst," said mr. stackborough, steadying himself by holding on to the table.
bobby maitland regarded him with a smile. "his name is etchingham, not etchinghurst; but you're not sufficiently intimate with him to call him anything but lord ticehurst. haystacks, dear old boy, you've had too much wine; have a tumbler of soda, plain, and go to bed."
there was no reason for the serious groom's apprehensions, so far as the safety of his person was concerned. it is a received axiom that the effects of intoxication are increased when gentlemen labouring under them are exposed to the influence of the air; and the groom's perturbation was probably based upon this theory. he had not, however, probably made allowance for the fact--which possibly had never come within his ken--that when the mind is actively at work it becomes an admirable counterirritant to the influence of wine. that feeble nonsense of the hiccupping toper of the past generation relative to the drowning of dull care in bowls was as void of reason as of rhythm. that men in good spirits will have those spirits made livelier by good drink in good company is intelligible enough; but dull care--whatever he may have suffered in the three-bottle days--declines to be drowned or in any way got rid of by such a quantity of liquor as is at the present time drank in society. the confirmation of his suspicions about gilbert lloyd, which bobby maitland had communicated with so much charming frankness to lord ticehurst, had had a singularly sobering influence on the young nobleman. the anger arising in his heart seemed to have chased away the fumes which had been obscuring his brain; and after he had been five minutes on the road he was in as good condition as he ever was--which, perhaps, is not saying much--to think the matter calmly through. it was a lovely night; the roans, knowing they were on their homeward journey, stepped out splendidly and refrained from indulging in any of the capers and antics which had characterised their morning's performance; and lord ticehurst, getting them well in hand, settled himself down to think over all he had heard, and to endeavour to arrive at some definite conclusion before the end of his drive.
was it what we have no adequate expression for, but what the french call the vin triste, that was exercising its malign influence over the young man? had his "potations pottle deep" but resulted in stirring up dull care instead of drowning him? had boffham's chateau yquem and steinberger cabinet an effect exactly opposite to that of the waters of lethe? certain it is that as lord ticehurst rolled rapidly homewards his memory, which very seldom troubled him, was actively at work, and his reflections were of anything but a pleasant character.
so they said that he was a mere child in gilbert lloyd's hands, did they?--that he dare not call his soul his own; that he had no will, no opinion,--chaffed, and said lloyd was his dry-nurse, did they? pleasant that, by jove!--to have things like that said about you by fellows to whom you had always been civil and polite, and all that kind of thing--more than that, hospitable, and letting them stand in with good things, and putting them on to everything you knew. and they went about and said this--not before your face, of course; they would not do that; but thought it before your face, and went about and said it as soon as your back was turned. made you their laughing-stock and their butt; poked their fun at you all the time they were eating your dinners, and made game of you while they borrowed your money. it was d--d unfriendly and blackguard conduct; that's what it was. and bobby maitland was as bad as any of them--worse, for he would never have heard of it but for him. they all thought he was a fool, and bobby must have thought so too, sneering about him and gilbert lloyd, and pretending to think he would not notice it. he would let them see pretty sharp he was not such a fool as they took him for; let them see he knew how they laughed at and chaffed him. next time any of them wanted a fifty for a fortnight, that would be the time. they should laugh the wrong side of their mouths then, he would take care. called himself a gentleman too, did bobby maitland, and gave himself airs because he was a peer's son. why, damme, that other chap, that poor fellow haystacks, or whatever his name was, with all his ridiculous nonsense about his get-up and all that, he was more of a gentleman than bobby maitland. he looked quite queer and uncomfortable, haystacks did, when maitland was going on all that chaff about the nurse.
about the nurse? that riled him more than anything else. "how was it he was let out without his nurse?" that's what maitland had said. as he thought of that speech lord ticehurst kicked out against the splashboard in front of him, startled the roans into a gallop, and woke the groom from an elysian dream of eating boiled beans and bacon in the back-parlour of a public-house which was his own. and when he had asked if gilbert knew about the chaff that was going on, maitland said he did, and, more than that, had started it and laughed at it himself. could that be true? he could scarcely think that; he had been doosid kind to old gil, and doosid fond of him, and done all sorts of things for him one way or the other, and he did not believe old gil would go against him in that way. fellows are always talking about ingratitude and that kind of thing, but he did not think anyone would be such a thorough-paced duffer as to go in against a fellow who had shown him nothing but kindness ever since he had known him. ever since he had known him? well, that was not so long ago, when he came to think about it, but it seemed like his whole life. he thought with an odd kind of incredulous wonder on that portion of his life anterior to his acquaintance with gilbert lloyd. the plater-dobbs régimeseemed like a dream. he was a vulgar old cad, the plater, but he would not have played double, he would not have allowed any of the fellows to chaff. no fellows had ever been allowed to chaff him, even at eton--eton, hey presto! at that reminiscence the clouds rolled away, and scenes of bygone time and the actors in them, unthought of for years, rose before the young man's mind. some of those fellows who had been with him at eton, and were now doing so well and making such stir in the world--brackenbury, who had made such a hit in the house, and who, everybody said, would be a1 some of these days; and graves, who had written a devilish clever book about something; and hammond, who was under-secretary in one of those office-places down at whitehall, and who the newspapers said was a rising man, and all that. lord! he recollected when he first went to eton, his old governor took him, and a crowd there was when they buried his governor in the family-vault at etchingham! he recollected lord tantallon the premier standing at the foot of the grave after the service, and looking in, with the tears running down his face. no end of official swells came down to see the last of their old colleague. he recollected seeing the great black-marble top of the tomb, which had been taken off, lying on its side among the weeds; and he remembered the smell of the newly-turned earth, and the trodden turf, and he could see just as plainly as on the day itself the men from the london newspapers bending over to read the inscription on the coffin. poor old governor! he was a clever fellow, and was awfully respectable and respected. he would not think much of the life his son was leading, mixed up with horses and betting-people and jockeys, and all that kind of thing. whew! it could not be helped, he supposed. it was too late to change it. steady there! arrived!
when lord ticehurst entered the rooms in the hotel which he occupied conjointly with gilbert lloyd, he found that gentleman asleep on the sofa, with a decanter of brandy on a small table by his side. the decanter was half-empty; and when gilbert, awaking at the noise made by his friend's arrival, turned round, his face, especially round the eyes, had a strained, flushed look, and his voice, when he began to speak, was rather thick and husky.
"hallo!" he said, raising himself on his elbow, and shading his eyes with his other hand, "you've got back!"
"yes," replied his lordship; "here i am!"
"perhaps the next time you are going to stop out to dinner you will have the goodness to say so."
"don't be cross, old man; you knew i was going, fast enough."
"i knew you were going out to luncheon, but there was nothing said about dinner, i believe; and as to being cross, it's enough to make a fellow savage, having had to cool his heels about here for an hour and a half, waiting dinner for a man who never came; and then to sit down to a lot of stuff cooked to rags, half cold, and quite uneatable."
"sorry for that, gil," said lord ticehurst with unimpaired good-humour; "very sorry, but you should not have waited."
"o, i like that!" said lloyd; "and suppose your lordship had not had your dinner, and had come in when i had half-finished mine, you would have been pleased, wouldn't you?"
"i don't suppose 'my lordship,' as you call me, would have cared one straw about it. what a rum fellow you are, gil! what's the matter with you to-night, that you are going on in this way?"
"going on in what way? i merely suggested that it would have been pleasanter if you had said you would not be back to dinner, and--"
"but i didn't know that i should not. i had no intention of stopping when i went away. can't you understand?"
"o yes, i understand! chapeau bas, chapeau bas!however, that's no matter now. i ought to have known that the young lady would suggest your stopping there--that the old belwethers would be delighted to receive a person of your lordship's quality, and that--"
"there, you may drop that silliness as soon as you like. it's very funny, i daresay; but it's all thrown away, because i didn't stop at hardriggs after all."
"the deuce you didn't! why, where did you dine, then?"
"at the hotel at hastings, with bobby maitland and that young fellow he's always about with now--'haystacks.'"
"i know," growled gilbert. he hated maitland, and half-despised him, as men do their unsuccessful rivals. "what on earth made you dine with them?"
"well, i don't know," said the earl, blushing a little, in spite of vigorous attempts to prevent it and look unconcerned. "i--i had stopped later there than i intended at hardriggs, and i thought you would have dined, and so i put up at hastings, and those fellows saw me and asked me to dinner."
"and you went, deuced samaritan-like and benevolent, and all that, i declare! that fellow stackborough will be set up for life; there will be no holding him, now that he has once dined in company with a real live earl."
"well, i don't know; mr. stackborough seemed to me to behave like a gentleman."
"o yes; but you like a fellow who bows down before you, etchingham, we all know that; and it's natural enough. however, that's neither here nor there. what about the object of your visit to hardriggs? you saw the young lady?"
"yes, i saw her."
"and you carried out your intention?"
"what intention?" asked lord ticehurst, summoning up courage, and looking his friend full in the face. and then gilbert knew for certain, what he had decidedly anticipated, that lord ticehurst had been rejected by gertrude.
"what intention?" he replied, with a sneer already dawning on his face; "why, the intention of proposing to miss--what does she call herself?--miss lambert."
"yes," said lord ticehurst quietly, "i carried out that intention."
"well, and we are to ring the joy-bells, and to roast the whole ox, and set the barrels of ale flowing, and order the bishop to be in readiness at st. george's, and select the new carriages, and have etchingham new furnished. and when are we to do all this?"
"not just now, at all events," said lord ticehurst. "first catch your hare, don't you know?" and his lordship tried to look knowing--a process in which he failed sublimely.
"why, you don't mean to say that--"
"i mean to say that i proposed to miss lambert--you know her name fast enough--and she refused me."
"refused you!" screamed gilbert with admirably-assumed astonishment; "refused you,--the opera-singer, the tragedy-queen, the princess do re has refused my lord with his thousands and his tens of thousands! the world is coming to an end! people will next question the value of an hereditary legislature. you astound me!"
"i'll tell you what, lloyd," said lord ticehurst sulkily, "i wish you to drop that style of chaff; i don't see the fun of it."
"you never saw the fun of anything, etchingham; it is not your métier; providence has ordained otherwise. it's for us poor devils to see the fun that you big swells make for us."
rage swelled within lord ticehurst's heart as he listened to these words, which were so eminently corroborative of what bobby maitland had said to him, and of what he had thought to himself on his homeward drive. but he controlled himself, and said:
"well, what i see or what i don't see don't matter much just now. perhaps i see more than some people think i do; more than i give tongue about, that's certain. however, i don't care about being chaffed on that subject, and so please drop it."
"poor old boy!" said lloyd, with an elaborate affectation of compassion; "of course he's very sore, that's natural enough; and of course it comes much harder to a fellow in his position, who thinks that he has only to lie under the wall and the ripe cherries will tumble into his mouth, to find that they sometimes hang on the stalk and won't tumble. it puts me in mind of the little stories in one syllable that we used to learn at school. 'there was once a small boy, and he cried for the moon, and when--'"
"d--n it, sir, will you stop?" cried lord ticehurst, angered beyond all patience. "look here, lloyd, you and i have been friends for a long time; but if you go on in this way i shall--"
"what?" interrupted gilbert, turning quickly on him.
"cut the whole concern, stock, lock, and barrel," said his lordship, "and part from you for ever."
the two men stood confronting each other; lord ticehurst flushed and heated, lloyd wonderfully pale and calm, and only betraying agitation in the twitchings of the muscles of his mouth. he was the first to speak.
"part from me for ever, eh?" he said in slow deliberate tones, each word clipping out from between his thin tight lips. "o no, you wouldn't do that! you are not very wise, lord ticehurst, but you would not be such a fool as to quarrel with or part from the man who has made you what you are. ah, you may stare and pretend to be astonished, but i repeat, who has made you what you are. and you need not come down upon me, as you are going to--i see it!--with the whole long story of your birth and position and status, and all the rest of it. i know all that from debrett; and still i stick to my text,--that i made you what you are! the time has come--you have brought it about, not i; i could have gone on for ever as we were--but the time has come for plain speaking; and i say that whatever you are, and whatever you may be thought of in the world, you owe to me, to me; without whom you would have remained the unformed cub you were when i found you in the hands of that old duffer, plater dobbs!"
the prospect of a row with his pupil--not a separation, of course, but a brisk breeze to freshen up the tamely-flowing current of their ordinary life--had often occurred to gilbert lloyd. he had thought over calmly what should be his conduct under such circumstances, and he had determined upon using the strongest possible "bounce," and acting in the most offensive and most truculent manner. his remembrance of lord ticehurst's behaviour in the quarrel with the frenchman, m. de prailles, at baden, prompted him to this line of action, and he found it was the correct one. lord ticehurst did not knock him down, or fling a chair at him, or take any other prompt and decisive step. his cheek flushed angrily, certainly, but he only said:
"major dobbs might have been a duffer, as you say he was, but at all events he aid not pitch into people who were kind to him, didn't blackguard them before their faces, as some people do, or what's worse, make game of them behind their backs."
he laid such stress on this last sentence that gilbert lloyd looked hard at him, and said, "make game of you behind your back! what do you mean by that?"
"what i say," said lord ticehurst; "chaffin' about my not being able to do anything without asking you, and you being my dry-nurse, and all that kind of thing!"
"ah, ha!" said gilbert lloyd; "you haven't dined with our friend bobby maitland for nothing! that's his stab, i'll swear. now look here, ticehurst, you've talked about our parting, and i never let a man threaten me twice. so part we will. we must wait over doncaster, because there are some things coming off there in which we are mutually interested; but after that i'll square up all the accounts and hand over everything to you."
he looked bard at his pupil as he said these words, expecting that the announcement would evoke a burst of protestations and disavowals. but lord ticehurst merely said "very well; all right;" and took up his candle and left the room.
