"Stop a moment, Frank, and listen, for I must make you understand. I must make you see that I am not taking advantage of your position, and trying to rob my own friend in my own house. I don't care what most people say of me, for in my career I must expect people to lie of me. I must, also, take care of myself. But I do wish you to know, that though I could not disarrange my schemes for you, I would not take you in."

"Why, Dot--how can you go on so? I only thought I was taking a leaf out of your book, by being careful to make the best bargain I could."

"Well, as I was saying--I would run the horses to the best advantage--especially Brien, for the Derby: by doing so, my whole book would be upset: I should have to bet all round again--and, very likely, not be able to get the bets I want. I could not do this without a very strong interest in the horse. Besides, you remember that I should have to go over with him to England myself, and that I should be obliged to be in England a great deal at a time when my own business would require me here."

"My dear fellow," said Frank, "you're going on as though it were necessary to defend yourself. I never accused you of anything."

"Never mind whether you did or no. You understand me now: if it will suit you, you can take my offer, but I should be glad to know at once."

While this conversation was going on, the two young men had left the house, and sauntered out into Blake's stud-yard. Here were his stables, where he kept such horses as were not actually in the trainer's hands--and a large a.s.sortment of aged hunters, celebrated timber-jumpers, brood mares, thoroughbred fillies, c.o.c.k-tailed colts, and promising foals. They were immediately joined by Blake's stud groom, who came on business intent, to request a few words with his master; which meant that Lord Ballindine was to retreat, as it was full time for his friend to proceed to his regular day's work. Blake's groom was a very different person in appearance, from the sort of servant in the possession of which the fashionable owner of two or three horses usually rejoices. He had no diminutive top boots; no loose brown breeches, b.u.t.toned low beneath the knee; no elongated waistcoat with capacious pockets; no dandy coat with remarkably short tail. He was a very ugly man of about fifty, named John Bottom, dressed somewhat like a seedy gentleman; but he understood his business well, and did it; and was sufficiently wise to know that he served his own pocket best, in the long run, by being true to his master, and by resisting the numerous tempting offers which were made to him by denizens of the turf to play foul with his master's horses. He was, therefore, a treasure to Blake; and he knew it, and valued himself accordingly.

"Well, John," said his master, "I suppose I must desert Lord Ballindine again, and obey your summons. Your few words will last nearly till dinner, I suppose?"

"Why, there is a few things, to be sure, 'll be the better for being talked over a bit, as his lordship knows well enough. I wish we'd as crack a nag in our stables, as his lordship."

"Maybe we may, some day; one down and another come on, you know; as the butcher-boy said."

"At any rate, your horses don't want bottom" said Frank.

He--he--he! laughed John, or rather tried to do so. He had laughed at that joke a thousand times; and, in the best of humours, he wasn't a merry man.

"Well, Frank," said Blake, "the c.o.c.k has crowed; I must away. I suppose you'll ride down to Igoe's, and see Brien: but think of what I've said, and," he added, whispering--"remember that I will do the best I can for the animals, if you put them into my stables. They shall be made second to nothing, and shall only and always run to win."

So, Blake and John Bottom walked off to the box stables and home paddocks.

Frank ordered his horse, and complied with his friend's suggestion, by riding down to Igoe's. He was not in happy spirits as he went; he felt afraid that his hopes, with regard to f.a.n.n.y, would be blighted; and that, if he persevered in his suit, he would only be hara.s.sed, annoyed, and disappointed. He did not see what steps he could take, or how he could manage to see her. It would be impossible for him to go to Grey Abbey, after having been, as he felt, turned out by Lord Cashel. Other things troubled him also. What should he now do with himself? It was true that he could go down to his own house; but everyone at Kelly's Court expected him to bring with him a bride and a fortune; and, instead of that, he would have to own that he had been jilted, and would be reduced to the disagreeable necessity of borrowing money from his own tenants. And then, that awful subject, money--took possession of him. What the deuce was he to do? What a fool he had been, to be seduced on to the turf by such a man as Blake! And then, he expressed a wish to himself that Blake had been--a long way off before he ever saw him. There he was, steward of the Curragh, the owner of the best horse in Ireland, and absolutely without money to enable him to carry on the game till he could properly retreat from it!

Then he was a little unfair upon his friend: he accused him of knowing his position, and wishing to take advantage of it; and, by the time he had got to Igoe's, his mind was certainly not in a very charitable mood towards poor Dot. He had, nevertheless, determined to accept his offer, and to take a last look at the three Milesians.

The people about the stables always made a great fuss with Lord Ballindine, partly because he was one of the stewards, and partly because he was going to run a crack horse for the Derby in England; and though, generally speaking, he did not care much for personal complimentary respect, he usually got chattered and flattered into good humour at Igoe's.

"Well, my lord," said a sort of foreman, or partner, or managing man, who usually presided over the yard, "I think we'll be apt to get justice to Ireland on the downs this year. That is, they'll give us nothing but what we takes from 'em by hard fighting, or running, as the case may be."

"How's Brien looking this morning, Grady?"

"As fresh as a primrose, my lord, and as clear as crystal: he's ready, this moment, to run through any set of three years old as could be put on the Curragh, anyway."

"I'm afraid you're putting him on too forward."

"Too forrard, is it, my lord? not a bit. He's a hoss as naturally don't pick up flesh; though he feeds free, too. He's this moment all wind and bottom, though, as one may say, he's got no training. He's niver been sthretched yet. Faith it's thrue I'm telling you, my lord."

"I know Scott doesn't like getting horses, early in the season, that are too fine--too much drawn up; he thinks they lose power by it, and so they do;--it's the distance that kills them, at the Derby. It's so hard to get a young horse to stay the distance."

"That's thrue, shure enough, my lord; and there isn't a gentleman this side the wather, anyway, undherstands thim things betther than your lordship."

"Well, Grady, let's have a look at the young chieftain: he's all right about the lungs, anyway."

"And feet too, my lord; niver saw a set of claner feet with plates on: and legs too! If you were to canter him down the road, I don't think he'd feel it; not that I'd like to thry, though."

"Why, he's not yet had much to try them."

"Faix, he has, my lord: didn't he win the Autumn Produce Stakes?"

"The only thing he ever ran for."

"Ah, but I tell you, as your lordship knows very well--no one betther--that it's a ticklish thing to bring a two year old to the post, in anything like condition--with any running in him at all, and not hurt his legs."

"But I think he's all right--eh, Grady?"

"Right?--your lordship knows he's right. I wish he may be made righter at John Scott's, that's all. But that's unpossible."

"Of course, Grady, you think he might be trained here, as well as at the other side of the water?"

"No, I don't, my lord: quite different. I've none of thim ideas at all, and never had, thank G.o.d. I knows what we can do, and I knows what they can do:--breed a hoss in Ireland, train him in the North of England, and run him in the South; and he'll do your work for you, and win your money, steady and shure."

"And why not run in the North, too?"

"They're too 'cute, my lord: they like to pick up the crumbs themselves--small blame to thim in that matther. No; a bright Irish nag, with lots of heart, like Brien Boru, is the hoss to stand on for the Derby; where all run fair and fair alike, the best wins;--but I won't say but he'll be the betther for a little polishing at Johnny Scott's."

"Besides, Grady, no horse could run immediately after a sea voyage. Do you remember what a show we made of Peter Simple at Kilrue?"

"To be shure I does, my lord: besides, they've proper gallops there, which we haven't--and they've betther manes of measuring horses:--why, they can measure a horse to half a pound, and tell his rale pace on a two-mile course, to a couple of seconds.--Take the sheets off, Larry, and let his lordship run his hand over him. He's as bright as a star, isn't he?"

"I think you're getting him too fine. I'm sure Scott'll say so."

"Don't mind him, my lord. He's not like one of those English cats, with jist a dash of speed about 'em, and nothing more--brutes that they put in training half a dozen times in as many months. Thim animals pick up a lot of loose, flabby flesh in no time, and loses it in less; and, in course, av' they gets a sweat too much, there's nothin left in 'em; not a hapoth. Brien's a different guess sort of animal from that."

"Were you going to have him out, Grady?"

"Why, we was not--that is, only just for walking exercise, with his sheets on: but a canter down the half mile slope, and up again by the bushes won't go agin him."

"Well, saddle him then, and let Pat get up."

"Yes, my lord"; and Brien was saddled by the two men together, with much care and ceremony; and Pat was put up--"and now, Pat," continued Grady, "keep him well in hand down the slope--don't let him out at all at all, till you come to the turn: when you're fairly round the corner, just shake your reins the laste in life, and when you're halfway up the rise, when the lad begins to snort a bit, let him just see the end of the switch--just raise it till it catches his eye; and av' he don't show that he's disposed for running, I'm mistaken. We'll step across to the bushes, my lord, and see him come round."

Lord Ballindine and the managing man walked across to the bushes accordingly, and Pat did exactly as he was desired. It was a pretty thing to see the beautiful young animal, with his sleek brown coat shining like a lady's curls, arching his neck, and throwing down his head, in his impatience to start. He was the very picture of health and symmetry; when he flung up his head you'd think the blood was running from his nose, his nostrils were so ruddy bright. He cantered off in great impatience, and fretted and fumed because the little fellow on his back would be the master, and not let him have his play--down the slope, and round the corner by the trees. It was beautiful to watch him, his motions were so easy, so graceful. At the turn he answered to the boy's encouragement, and mended his pace, till again he felt the bridle, and then, as the jock barely moved his right arm, he bounded up the rising ground, past the spot where Lord Ballindine and the trainer were standing, and shot away till he was beyond the place where he knew his gallop ordinarily ended. As Grady said, he hadn't yet been stretched; he had never yet tried his own pace, and he had that look so beautiful in a horse when running, of working at his ease, and much within his power.

"He's a beautiful creature," said Lord Ballindine, as he mournfully reflected that he was about to give up to Dot Blake half the possession of his favourite, and the whole of the nominal t.i.tle. It was such a pity he should be so hampered; the mere _eclat_ of possessing such a horse was so great a pleasure; "He is a fine creature," said he, "and, I am sure, will do well."

"Your lordship may say that: he'll go precious nigh to astonish the Saxons, I think. I suppose the pick-up at the Derby'll be nigh four thousand this year."

"I suppose it will--something like that."

"Well; I would like a nag out of our stables to do the trick on the downs, and av' we does it iver, it'll be now. Mr Igoe's standing a deal of cash on him. I wonder is Mr Blake standing much on him, my lord?"

"You'd be precious deep, Grady, if you could find what he's doing in that way."

"That's thrue for you, my lord; but av' he, or your lordship, wants to get more on, now's the time. I'll lay twenty thousand pounds this moment, that afther he's been a fortnight at Johnny Scott's the odds agin him won't be more than ten to one, from that day till the morning he comes out on the downs."