"Yes, uncle, I do."

"And you want me to tell him so, after having banished him from my house?"

f.a.n.n.y's eyes again shot fire at the word "banished", but she answered, very quietly, and even with a smile,

"No, uncle; but I want you to ask him here again. I might tell him the rest myself."

"But, f.a.n.n.y, dear," said the countess, "your uncle couldn't do it: you know, he told him to go away before. Besides, I really don't think he'd come; he's so taken up with those horrid horses, and that Mr Blake, who is worse than any of 'em. Really, f.a.n.n.y, Kilcullen says that he and Mr Blake are quite notorious."

"I think, aunt, Lord Kilcullen might be satisfied with looking after himself. If it depended on him, he never had a kind word to say for Lord Ballindine."

"But you know, f.a.n.n.y," continued the aunt, "he knows everybody; and if he says Lord Ballindine is that sort of person, why, it must be so, though I'm sure I'm very sorry to hear it."

Lord Cashel saw that he could not trust any more to his wife: that last hit about Kilcullen had been very unfortunate; so he determined to put an end to all f.a.n.n.y's yearnings after her lover with a strong hand, and said,

"If you mean, f.a.n.n.y, after what has pa.s.sed, that I should go to Lord Ballindine, and give him to understand that he is again welcome to Grey Abbey, I must at once tell you that it is absolutely--absolutely impossible. If I had no personal objection to the young man on any prudential score, the very fact of my having already, at your request, desired his absence from my house, would be sufficient to render it impossible. I owe too much to my own dignity, and am too anxious for your reputation, to think of doing such a thing. But when I also remember that Lord Ballindine is a reckless, dissipated gambler--I much fear, with no fixed principle, I should consider any step towards renewing the acquaintance between you a most wicked and unpardonable proceeding."

When f.a.n.n.y heard her lover designated as a reckless gambler, she lost all remaining feelings of fear at her uncle's anger, and, standing up, looked him full in the face through her tears.

"It's not so, my lord!" she said, when he had finished. "He is not what you have said. I know him too well to believe such things of him, and I will not submit to hear him abused."

"Oh, f.a.n.n.y, my dear!" said the frightened countess; "don't speak in that way. Surely, your uncle means to act for your own happiness; and don't you know Lord Ballindine has those horrid horses?"

"If I don't mind his horses, aunt, no one else need; but he's no gambler, and he's not dissipated--I'm sure not half so much so as Lord Kilcullen."

"In that, f.a.n.n.y, you're mistaken," said the earl; "but I don't wish to discuss the matter with you. You must, however, fully understand this: Lord Ballindine cannot be received under this roof. If you regret him, you must remember that his rejection was your own act. I think you then acted most prudently, and I trust it will not be long before you are of the same opinion yourself," and Lord Cashel moved to the door as though he had accomplished his part in the interview.

"Stop one moment, uncle," said f.a.n.n.y, striving hard to be calm, and hardly succeeding. "I did not ask my aunt to speak to you on this subject, till I had turned it over and over in my mind, and resolved that I would not make myself and another miserable for ever, because I had been foolish enough not to know my mind. You best know whether you can ask Lord Ballindine to Grey Abbey or not; but I am determined, if I cannot see him here, that I will see him somewhere else," and she turned towards the door, and then, thinking of her aunt, she turned back and kissed her, and immediately left the room.

The countess looked up at her husband, quite dumbfounded, and he seemed rather distressed himself. However, he muttered something about her being a hot-headed simpleton and soon thinking better about it, and then betook himself to his private retreat, to hold sweet converse with his own thoughts--having first rung the bell for Griffiths, to pick up the scattered threads of her mistress's knitting.

Lord Cashel certainly did not like the look of things. There was a determination in f.a.n.n.y's eye, as she made her parting speech, which upset him rather, and which threw considerable difficulties in the way of Lord Kilcullen's wooing. To be sure, time would do a great deal: but then, there wasn't so much time to spare. He had already taken steps to borrow the thirty thousand pounds, and had, indeed, empowered his son to receive it: he had also pledged himself for the other fifty; and then, after all, that perverse fool of a girl would insist on being in love with that scapegrace, Lord Ballindine! This, however, might wear away, and he would take very good care that she should hear of his misdoings. It would be very odd if, after all, his plans were to be destroyed, and his arrangements disconcerted by his own ward, and niece--especially when he designed so great a match for her!

He could not, however, make himself quite comfortable, though he had great confidence in his own diplomatic resources.

XV. HANDICAP LODGE

Lord Ballindine left Grey Abbey, and rode homewards, towards Handicap Lodge, in a melancholy and speculative mood. His first thoughts were all of Harry Wyndham. Frank, as the accepted suitor of his sister, had known him well and intimately, and had liked him much; and the poor young fellow had been much attached to him. He was greatly shocked to hear of his death. It was not yet a month since he had seen him shining in all the new-blown splendour of his cavalry regimentals, and Lord Ballindine was unfeignedly grieved to think how short a time the lad had lived to enjoy them. His thoughts, then, naturally turned to his own position, and the declaration which Lord Cashel had made to him respecting himself. Could it be absolutely true that f.a.n.n.y had determined to give him up altogether?--After all her willing vows, and a.s.surances of unalterable affection, could she be so cold as to content herself with sending him a formal message, by her uncle, that she did not wish to see him again? Frank argued with himself that it was impossible; he was sure he knew her too well. But still, Lord Cashel would hardly tell him a downright lie, and he had distinctly stated that the rejection came from Miss Wyndham herself.

Then, he began to feel indignant, and spurred his horse, and rode a little faster, and made a few resolutions as to upholding his own dignity. He would run after neither Lord Cashel nor his niece; he would not even ask her to change her mind, since she had been able to bring herself to such a determination as that expressed to him. But he would insist on seeing her; she could not refuse that to him, after what had pa.s.sed between them, and he would then tell her what he thought of her, and leave her for ever. But no; he would do nothing to vex her, as long as she was grieving for her brother. Poor Harry!--she loved him so dearly! Perhaps, after all, his sudden rejection was, in some manner, occasioned by this sad event, and would be revoked as her sorrow grew less with time. And then, for the first time, the idea shot across his mind, of the wealth f.a.n.n.y must inherit by her brother's death.

It certainly had a considerable effect on him, for he breathed slow awhile, and was some little time before he could entirely realise the conception that f.a.n.n.y was now the undoubted owner of a large fortune.

"That is it," thought he to himself, at last; "that sordid earl considers that he can now be sure of a higher match for his niece, and f.a.n.n.y has allowed herself to be persuaded out of her engagement: she has allowed herself to be talked into the belief that it was her duty to give up a poor man like me." And then, he felt very angry again.

"Heavens!" said he to himself--"is it possible she should be so servile and so mean? f.a.n.n.y Wyndham, who cared so little for the prosy admonitions of her uncle, a few months since, can she have altered her disposition so completely? Can the possession of her brother's money have made so vile a change in her character? Could she be the same f.a.n.n.y who had so entirely belonged to him, who had certainly loved him truly once? Perish her money! he had sought her from affection alone; he had truly and fondly loved her; he had determined to cling to her, in spite of the advice of his friends! And then, he found himself deserted and betrayed by her, because circ.u.mstances had given her the probable power of making a better match!"

Such were Lord Ballindine's thoughts; and he flattered himself with the reflection that he was a most cruelly used, affectionate, and disinterested lover. He did not, at the moment, remember that it was f.a.n.n.y's twenty thousand pounds which had first attracted his notice; and that he had for a considerable time wavered, before he made up his mind to part with himself at so low a price. It was not to be expected that he should remember that, just at present; and he rode on, considerably out of humour with all the world except himself.

As he got near to Handicap Lodge, however, the genius of the master-spirit of that cla.s.sic spot came upon him, and he began to bethink himself that it would be somewhat foolish of him to give up the game just at present. He reflected that a hundred thousand pounds would work a wondrous change and improvement at Kelly's Court--and that, if he was before prepared to marry f.a.n.n.y Wyndham in opposition to the wishes of her guardian, he should now be doubly determined to do so, even though all Grey Abbey had resolved to the contrary. The last idea in his mind, as he got off his horse at his friend's door was, as to what Dot Blake would think, and say, of the tidings he brought home with him?

It was dark when he reached Handicap Lodge, and, having first asked whether Mr Blake was in, and heard that he was dressing for dinner, he went to perform the same operation himself. When he came down, full of his budget, and quite ready, as usual, to apply to Dot for advice, he was surprised, and annoyed, to find two other gentlemen in the room, together with Blake. What a bore! to have to make one of a dinner-party of four, and the long protracted rubber of shorts which would follow it, when his mind was so full of other concerns! However, it was not to be avoided.

The guests were, the fat, good-humoured, ready-witted Mat Tierney, and a little Connaught member of Parliament, named Morris, who wore a wig, played a very good rubber of whist, and knew a good deal about selling hunters. He was not very bright, but he told one or two good stories of his own adventures in the world, which he repeated oftener than was approved of by his intimate friends; and he drank his wine plentifully and discreetly--for, if he didn't get a game of cards after consuming a certain quantum, he invariably went to sleep.

There was something in the manner in which the three greeted him, on entering the room, which showed him that they had been speaking of him and his affairs. Dot was the first to address him.

"Well, Frank, I hope I am to wish you joy. I hope you've made a good morning's work of it?"

Frank looked rather distressed: before he could answer, however, Mat Tierney said,

"Well, Ballindine, upon my soul I congratulate you sincerely, though, of course, you've seen nothing at Grey Abbey but tears and cambric handkerchiefs. I'm very glad, now, that what Kilcullen told me wasn't true. He left Dublin for London yesterday, and I suppose he won't hear of his cousin's death before he gets there."

"Upon my honour, Lord Ballindine," said the horse-dealing member, "you are a lucky fellow. I believe old Wyndham was a regular golden nabob, and I suppose, now, you'll touch the whole of his gatherings."

Dot and his guests had heard of Harry Wyndham's death, and f.a.n.n.y's accession of fortune; but they had not heard that she had rejected her lover, and that he had been all but turned out of her guardian's house.

Nor did he mean to tell them; but he did not find himself pleasantly situated in having to hear their congratulations and listen to their jokes, while he himself felt that the rumour which he had so emphatically denied to Mat Tierney, only two days since, had turned out to be true.

Not one of the party made the slightest reference to the poor brother from whom f.a.n.n.y's new fortune had come, except as the lucky means of conveying it to her. There was no regret even pretended for his early death, no sympathy expressed with f.a.n.n.y's sorrow. And there was, moreover, an evident conviction in the minds of all the three, that Frank, of course, looked on the accident as a piece of unalloyed good fortune--a splendid windfall in his way, unattended with any disagreeable concomitants. This grated against his feelings, and made him conscious that he was not yet heartless enough to be quite fit for, the society in which he found himself.

The party soon went into the dining-room; and Frank at first got a little ease, for f.a.n.n.y Wyndham seemed to be forgotten in the willing devotion which was paid to Blake's soup; the interest of the fish, also, seemed to be absorbing; and though conversation became more general towards the latter courses, still it was on general subjects, as long as the servants were in the room. But, much to his annoyance, his mistress again came on the tapis [26], together with the claret.

[FOOTNOTE 26: A tapis was a small cloth or tapestry sometimes used to cover a table; hence the expression "on the tapis" meant "on the table" or "under consideration."]

"You and Kilcullen don't hit it off together--eh, Ballindine?" said Mat.

"We never quarrelled," answered Frank; "we never, however, were very intimate."

"I wonder at that, for you're both fond of the turf. There's a large string of his at Murphy's now, isn't there, Dot?"

"Too many, I believe," said Blake. "If you've a mind to be a purchaser, you'll find him a very pleasant fellow--especially if you don't object to his own prices."

"Faith I'll not trouble him," said Mat; "I've two of them already, and a couple on the turf and a couple for the saddle are quite enough to suit me. But what the deuce made him say, so publicly, that your match was off, Ballindine? He couldn't have heard of Wyndham's death at the time, or I should think he was after the money himself."

"I cannot tell; he certainly had not my authority," said Frank.

"Nor the lady's either, I hope."

"You had better ask herself, Tierney; and, if she rejects me, maybe she'll take you."

"There's a speculation for you," said Blake; "you don't think yourself too old yet, I hope, to make your fortune by marriage?--and, if you don't, I'm sure Miss Wyndham can't."

"I tell you what, Dot, I admire Miss Wyndham much, and I admire a hundred thousand pounds more. I don't know anything I admire more than a hundred thousand pounds, except two; but, upon my word, I wouldn't take the money and the lady together."

"Well, that's kind of him, isn't it, Frank? So, you've a chance left, yet."