"He had a wonderful memory, indeed, my Lord; for I had borrowed twenty pounds of him at the Canterbury races some ten years ago, and he said to me, just before he took to bed, 'Never mind the trifle that's between us, Spicer; I shall not take it.'"

"Good-hearted, generous fellow!" muttered Beecher.

Spicer's mouth twitched a little, but he did not speak.

"There never was a better brother, never!" said Beecher, far more intent upon the display of his own affectionate sorrow than in commemorating fraternal virtues. "We never had a word of disagreement in our lives.

Poor Lackington! he used to think he was doing the best by me by keeping me so tight, and always threatening to cut me down still lower; he meant it for the best, but you know I could n't live upon it, the thing was impossible. If I had n't been one of the 'wide-awakes,' I 'd have gone to the wall at once; and let me tell you, Master Spicer, it wasn't every fellow would have kept his head over water where I was swimming."

"That I 'm convinced of," said Spicer, gravely.

"Well, it's a long lane has no turning, Spicer," said he, oomplacently looking at himself in the glass. "Even a runaway pulls up somewhere; not but I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart for poor Lack, but it will be our own turn one of these days; that's a match there's no paying forfeit on, eh, Spicer? it must come off whether we will or not!"

"So it must, my Lord," sighed out Spicer, sympathetically.

"Ay, by Jove! whether a man leaves twelve thousand a year or only two hundred behind him," sighed out Beecher, who could not help making the application to himself.

Again did Spicer sigh, and so profoundly, it might have represented grief for the whole peerage.

"I say, old fellow," said Beecher, clapping him familiarly on the shoulder, "I wish you had n't told Georgy all that stuff about Davis; these things do no good."

"I assure you solemnly, my Lord, I said it with the best motives; her Ladyship would certainly learn the whole history somewhere, and so I thought I 'd just sketch the thing off in a light, easy way."

"Come, come, Spicer,--no gammon, my lad; you never tried any of your light, easy ways with _my_ sister-in-law. At all events, it's done, and can't be undone now," sighed he, drearily. Then, after a moment, he added, "How did she take the news?"

"Well, at first, my Lord, she wouldn't believe it, but went on, 'She's not his wife, sir; I tell you they're not married,' and so on."

"Well,--and then?"

"Then, my Lord, I assured her that there could be no doubt of the matter; that your Lordship had done me the honor of presenting me--"

"Which I never did, Master Spicer," laughed in Beecher,--"you know well enough that I never did; but a fib won't choke you, old fellow."

"At all events, I made it clear that you were really married, and to the daughter of a man that would send you home on a shutter if you threw any doubt on it."

"Wouldn't he, by Jupiter!" exclaimed Beecher, with all the sincerity of a great fact "Well, after _that_, how did she take on?"

"She did n't say a word, but rocked from side to side, this way,--like one going to faint; and, indeed, her color all went, and she was pale as a corpse; and then she took long breaths, and muttered below her voice, 'This is worst of all!' After that she rallied, and certainly gave it to your Lordship in round style, but always winding it up with, 'Break it he shall, and must, if it was the Archbishop of Canterbury married them.'"

"Very fine talking, Master Spicer, but matrimony is a match where you can't scratch and pay forfeits. I wish you could," muttered he to himself. "I wish you had the presence of mind and the pluck to have told her that it was _my_ affair, and not _hers_. As to the honor of the Lackingtons and all that lot, she is n't a Lackington any more than you are,--she 's a De Tracey; good blood, no better, but she isn't one of us, and you ought to have told her so."

"I own I 'd not have had courage for that!" said Spicer, candidly.

"That's what I'd have said in your place, Spicer. The present Viscount Lackington is responsible to himself, and not to the late Lord's widow; and, what's more, he is no flat, without knowledge of men and the world, but a fellow with both eyes open, and who has gone through as smart a course of education as any man in the ring. Take up the Racing Calendar, and show me any one, since Huckaback beat Crim. Con., that ever got it so 'hot' as I have. No, no, my Lady, it won't do, preaching to me about 'life.' If _I_ don't know a thing or two, who does? If you 'd have had your wits about you, Spicer, that's what you 'd have told her."

"I'm not so ready at a pinch as you are, my Lord," muttered Spicer, who affected sullenness.

"Few are, Master Spicer,--very few are, I can tell you;" and in the pleasure of commending and complimenting himself and his own great gifts, Beecher speedily ceased to remember. What so lately had annoyed him. "Dine here at seven, Spicer," said he, at last, "and I'll present you to my Lady. She 'll be amused with _you_." Though the last words were uttered in a way that made their exact significance somewhat doubtful, Mr. Spicer never sought to canvass them; he accepted the invitation in good part, for he was one of those men who, though they occasionally "quarrel with their bread-and-butter," are wise enough never to fall out with their truffles.

CHAPTER XXIX. THE TWO VISCOUNTESSES

When the new Viscount had dismissed Mr. Spicer, he set out to visit his sister-in-law. Any one who has been patient enough to follow the stages of this history will readily imagine that he did not address himself to the task before him with remarkable satisfaction. If it had been a matter to be bought off by money, he would readily have paid down a good round sum as forfeit. It was no use fortifying himself, as he tried to do, by all the commonplaces he kept repeating to his own heart, saying, "She ain't my guardian. I'm no ward to be responsible to _her_. She can exercise no control over me or my property. She 's the dowager, and no more." All the traditions of his younger brother life rose up in rebellion against these doctrines, and he could think of her as nothing but the haughty Viscountess, who had so often pronounced the heaviest censures upon his associates and his mode of living. A favorite theory of his was it, also, in olden time, to imagine that, but for Georgina, Lackington would have done this, that, and t'other for him; that she it was who thwarted all his brother's generous impulses, and brought him to look with stern disfavor on his life of debt and dissipation.

These memories rushed now fully to his mind, and, assuredly, added no sentiment of pleasure to his expectation of the meeting. More than once did he come to a halt, and deliberate whether, seeing how unpleasant such an interview must prove, he need incur the pain of it. "I could write to her, or I could send Lizzy to say that I was confined to bed, and ill. Would n't that be a flare up! By Jove! if I could only see the match as it came off between them, I 'd do _that_. Not but I know Georgy would win; she 'd come out so strong as 'Grande Dame;' the half-bred 'un would have no chance. Still, there would be a race, and a close one, for Lizzy has her own turn of speed; and if she had the breeding--" And as he got thus far in his ruminations, he had reached the Palazzo Gondi, where his sister-in-law lived. With a sort of sullen courage he rang the bell, and was shown in; her Ladyship was dressing, but would be down in a moment.

Beecher had now some minutes alone, and he passed them scrutinizing the room and its appurtenances. All was commoner and more homely than he looked for. Not many indications of comfort; scarcely any of luxury.

What might this mean? Was her settlement so small as to exact this economy, or was it a voluntary saving? If so, it was the very reverse of all her former tastes, for she was essentially one who cultivated splendor and expense. This problem was still puzzling him, when the door opened, and she entered. He advanced rapidly to meet her, and saluted her on each cheek. There was a strange affectation of cordiality on each side. Prize-fighters shake hands ere they double them up into catapults for each other's heads; but the embrace here was rather more like the kiss the victim on the scaffold bestows upon his executioner.

Seated side by side on the sofa, for a few minutes neither uttered a word; at last she said, in a calm, low voice, "We had hoped to see you before this,--_he_ looked anxiously for your coming."

Beecher heaved a heavy sigh; in that unhappy delay was comprised all the story of his calamities. And how to begin--how to open the narrative?

"I wrote as many as five letters," resumed she; "some addressed to Fordyce's, others to the care of Mr. Davenport Dunn."

"Not one of them ever reached me."

"Very strange, indeed," said she, with the smile of faintest incredulity; "letters so seldom miscarry nowadays. Stranger, still, that none of your other correspondents should have apprised you of your brother's state; there was ample time to have done it."

"I know nothing of it I vow to Heaven I had not the slightest suspicion of it!"

"Telegraphs, too, are active agencies in these days, and I wrote to Fordyce to use every exertion to acquaint you."

"I can only repeat what I have said already, that I was utterly ignorant of everything till I arrived at Baden; there I accidentally met Twining--"

"Spicer told me about it," said she abruptly, as though it was not necessary to discuss any point conceded on both sides. "Your coming,"

continued she, "was all the more eagerly looked for because it was necessary you should be, so far as possible, prepared for the suit we are threatened with; actions at law for ejectments on title are already announced, and great--the very greatest--inconvenience has resulted for want of formal instructions on your part."

"Is the thing really serious, Georgy?" asked he, with an unfeigned anxiety of manner.

"If you only will take the trouble of reading Fordyce's two last letters,--they are very long, I confess, and somewhat difficult to understand,--you will at least see that his opinion is the reverse of favorable. In fact, he thinks the English estates are gone."

"Oh, Georgy dearest! but _you_ don't believe that?"

"The Irish barony and certain lands in Cork," resumed she, calmly, "are not included in the demand they profess to make; nor, of course, have they any claim as to the estates purchased by Lord Lackington through Mr. Dunn."

"But the title?"

"The Viscounty goes with the English property."

"Good heavens! a title we have held undisturbed, unquestioned, since Edward the Third's time. I cannot bring myself to conceive it!"

"Great reverses of condition can be borne with dignity when they are not of our own incurring," said she, with a stern and pointed significance.

"I'm afraid I cannot boast of possessing all your philosophy," said he, touchily.

"So much the worse. You would need it, and even more, too, if all that I have heard be true."

There was no mistaking this inference, and Beecher only hesitated whether he should accept battle at once, or wait for another broadside.