Sir Brook Fossbrooke Volume I Part 37

"Certainly; most willingly. I don't know that any one has a right to question me on the matter."

"I never said he had. I only warned you how people will talk, and how necessary it is to be prepared to stifle a scandal even before it has flared out."

"It shall be cared for. I'll do exactly as you wish," said Cave, who was too much flurried to know what was asked of him, and to what he was pledged.

"I'm glad this is off my mind," said Sewell, with a long sigh of relief.

"I lay awake half the night thinking of it; for there are scores of fellows who are not of your stamp, and who would be for submitting these doc.u.ments to their lawyer, and asking, Heaven knows, what this affair related to. Now I tell you frankly, I 'd have given no explanations. He who gave that bond is, as I know, a consummate rascal, and has robbed me--that is, my wife--out of two-thirds of her fortune; but _my_ hands are tied regarding him. I could n't touch him, except he should try to take my life,--a thing, by the way, he is quite capable of. Old Dillon, my wife's father, believed him to be the best and truest of men, and my wife inherited this belief, even in the face of all the injuries he had worked us. She went on saying, 'My father always said, "Trust Fossy: there's at least one man in the world that will never deceive you.'""

"What was the name you said?" asked Cave, quickly.

"Oh, only a nickname. I don't want to mention his name. I have sealed up the bond, with this superscription,--'Colonel Sewell's bond.' I did this believing you would not question me farther; but if you desire to read it over, I 'll break the envelope at once."

"No, no; nothing of the kind. Leave it just as it is."

"So that," said Sewell, pursuing his former line of thought, "this man not alone defrauded me, but he sowed dissension between me and my wife.

Her faith is shaken in him, I have no doubt, but she 'll not confess it.

Like a genuine woman, she will persist in a.s.serting the convictions she has long ceased to be held by, and quote this stupid letter of her father in the face of every fact.

"I ought not to have got into these things," said Sewell, as he walked impatiently down the room. "These family bedevilments should be kept from one's friends; but the murder is out now, and you can see how I stand--and see besides, that if I am not always able to control my temper, a friend might find an excuse for me."

Cave gave a kindly nod of a.s.sent to this, not wis.h.i.+ng, even by a word, to increase the painful embarra.s.sment of the scene.

"Heigh ho!" cried Sewell, throwing himself down in a chair, "there's one care off my heart, at least! I can remember a time when a night's bad luck would n't have cost me five minutes of annoyance; but nowadays I have got it so hot and so heavy from fortune, I begin not to know myself." Then, with a sudden change of tone, he added: "When are you coming out to us again? Shall we say Tuesday?"

"We are to be inspected on Tuesday. Trafford writes me that he is coming over with General Halkett,--whom, by the way, he calls a Tartar,--and says, 'If the Sewells are within hail, say a kind word to them on my part.'"

"A good sort of fellow, Trafford," said Sewell, carelessly.

"An excellent fellow,--no better living!"

"A very wide-awake one too," said Sewell, with one eye closed, and a look of intense cunning.

"I never thought so. It is, to my notion, to the want of that faculty he owes every embarra.s.sment he has ever suffered. He is unsuspecting to a fault."

"It's not the way _I_ read him; though, perhaps, I think as well of him as _you_ do. I 'd say that for his years he is one of the very shrewdest young fellows I ever met."

"You astonish me! May I ask if you know him well?"

"Our acquaintance is not of very old date, but we saw a good deal of each other at the Cape. We rode out frequently, dined, played, and conversed freely together; and the impression he made upon me was that every sharp lesson the world had given him he 'd pay back one day or other with a compound interest."

"I hope not,--I fervently hope not!" cried Cave. "I had rather hear to-morrow that he had been duped and cheated out of half his fortune than learn he had done one act that savored of the--the--" He stopped, unable to finish, for he could not hit upon the word that might be strong enough for his meaning, and yet not imply an offence.

"Say blackleg. Is n't that what you want? There's my wife's pony chaise.

I 'll get a seat back to the Nest. Goodbye, Cave. If Wednesday is open, give it to us, and tell Trafford I'd be glad to see him."

Cave sat down as the door closed after the other, and tried to recall his thoughts to something like order. What manner of man was that who had just left him? It was evidently a very mixed nature. Was it the good or the evil that predominated? Was the unscrupulous tone he displayed the result of a spirit of tolerance, or was it the easy indifference of one who trusted nothing,--believed nothing?

Was it possible his estimate of Trafford could be correct? and could this seemingly generous and open manner cover a nature cold, calculating, and treacherous? No, no. _That_ he felt to be totally out of the question.

He thought long and intently over the matter, but to no end; and as he arose to deposit the papers left by Sewell in his writing-desk, he felt as unsettled and undecided as when he started on the inquiry.

CHAPTER x.x.x. THE RACES ON THE LAWN

A bright October morning, with a blue sky and a slight, very slight feeling of frost in the air, and a gay meeting on foot and horseback on the lawn before the Swan's Nest, made as pretty a picture as a painter of such scenes could desire. I say of such scenes, because in the _tableau de genre_ it is the realistic element that must predominate, and the artist's skill is employed in imparting to very commonplace people and costumes whatever poetry can be lent them by light and shade, by happy groupings, and, more than all these, by the insinuation of some incident in which they are the actors,--a sort of storied interest pervading the whole canvas, which gives immense pleasure to those who have little taste for the fine arts.

There was plenty of color even in the landscape. The mountains had put on their autumn suit, and displayed every tint from a pale opal to a deep and gorgeous purple, while the river ran on in those circling eddies which come to the surface of water under suns.h.i.+ne as naturally as smiles to the face of flattered beauty.

Colonel Sewell had invited the country-side to witness hack-races in his grounds, and the country-side had heartily responded to the invitation.

There were the county magnates in grand equipages,--an earl with two postilions and outriders, a high sheriff with all his official splendors, squires of lower degree in more composite vehicles, and a large array of jaunting-cars, through all of which figured the red coats of the neighboring garrison, adding to the scene that tint of warmth in color so dear to the painter's heart.

The wonderful beauty of the spot, combining, as it did, heath-clad mountain, and wood, and winding river, with a spreading lake in the distance, dotted with picturesque islands, was well seconded by a glorious autumnal day,--one of those days when the very air has something of champagne in its exhilarating quality, and gives to every breath of it a sense of stimulation.

The first three races--they were on the flat--had gone off admirably.

They were well contested, well ridden, and the "right horse" the winner.

All was contentment, therefore, on every side, to which the interval of a pleasant moment of conviviality gave hearty a.s.sistance, for now came the hour of luncheon; and from the "swells" in the great marquee, and the favored intimates in the dining-room, to the a.s.sembled unknown in the jaunting-cars, merry laughter issued, with clattering of plates and popping of corks, and those commingled sounds of banter and jollity which mark such gatherings.

The great event of the day was, however, yet to come off. It was a hurdle race, to which two stiff fences were to be added, in the shape of double ditches, to test the hunting powers of the horses. The hurdles were to be four feet eight in height, so that the course was by no means a despicable one, even to good cross-country riders. To give increased interest to the race, Sewell himself was to ride, and no small share of eagerness existed amongst the neighboring gentry to see how the new-comer would distinguish himself in the saddle,--some opining he was too long of leg; some, that he was too heavy; some, that men of his age--he was over five-and-thirty--begin to lose nerve; and many going so far as to imply "that he did not look like riding,"--a judgment whose vagueness detracts nothing from its force.

"There he goes now, and he sits well down too!" cried one, as a group of hors.e.m.e.n swept past, one of whom, mounted on a "sharp" pony, led the way, a white macintosh and loose overalls covering him from head to foot. They were off to see that the fences were all being properly put up, and in an instant were out of sight.

"I'll back Tom Westenra against Sewell for a twenty-pound note," cried one, standing up on the seat of his car to proclaim the challenge.

"I'll go further," shouted another,--"I 'll do it for fifty."

"I 'll beat you both," cried out a third,--"I 'll take Tom even against the field."

The object of all this enthusiasm was a smart, cleanshaven little fellow, with a good blue eye, and a pleasant countenance, who smoked his cigar on the seat of a drag near, and nodded a friendly recognition to their confidence.

"If Joe Slater was well of his fall, I 'd rather have him than any one in the county," said an old farmer, true to a man of his own cla.s.s and standing.

"Here's one can beat them both!" shouted another; "here's Mr. Creagh of Liskmakerry!" and a thin, ruddy-faced, keen-eyed man of about fifty rode by on a low-sized horse, with that especial look of decision in his mouth, and a peculiar puckering about the corners that seem to belong to those who traffic in horse-flesh, and who, it would appear, however much they may know about horses, understand humanity more thoroughly still.

"Are you going to ride, Creagh?" cried a friend from a high tax-cart.

"Maybe so, if the fences are not too big for me;" and a very malicious drollery twinkled in his gray eye.

"Faix, and if they are," said a farmer, "the rest may stay at home."

"I hope you 'll ride, Creagh," said the first speaker, "and not let these English fellows take the s.h.i.+ne out of us. Yourself and Tom are the only county names on the card."

"Show it to me," said Creagh, listlessly; and he took the printed list in his hand and conned it over, as though it had all been new to him.

"They 're all soldiers, I see," said he. "It's Major This, and Captain That--Who is the lady?" This question was rapidly called forth by a horsewoman who rode past at an easy canter in the midst of a group of men. She was dressed in a light-gray habit and hat of the same color, from which a long white feather encircling the hat hung on one side.

"That's Mrs. Sewell,--what do you think of her riding?"

"If her husband has as neat a hand, I 'd rather he was out of the course. She knows well what she 's about."