'though Mr. Hugh makes such a fuss about the game, he can't shoot, and as for his riding, though it is true he has pluck enough, he rides like a tailor.'

'You didn't tell Lady Trevor that, I suppose,' she remarked drily.

'Well, of course not.'

'Then why should you tell me?

Mr. Wood smoothed his moustaches nervously; he did not drag at them (she noticed to herself), as Hugh did when he was in a temper.

'It slipped out,' he answered doggedly.

'It was rather indiscreet of you,' she replied with a smile, and again she placed her hand upon the horse's mane, almost invitingly; he dared not touch it this time, but he felt that he was forgiven and considering the nature of his offence-or rather the subject of it-the fact was most significant and full of promise. If he had not been aware of the theory of the circulation of the blood, his sensations would have informed him of it.

'I am not an impulsive person, Mr. Wood, and can be trusted,' she continued softly; 'nothing "slips out" from me, though I am a woman. Like you, I admire Lady Trevor exceedingly, and will do what I can to comfort her; but for that purpose I ought to know how matters really stand with her. Sir Richard, I conclude, has had a stroke?'

'Something of that nature; that's the truth; still, he's getting over it.'

'I am delighted to hear it; but I suppose he will now be liable to attacks of the same nature.'

'Well, yes, poor fellow, when one's horse has once fallen down, you know,' and he put his hand upon the mane, where hers still lay, to illustrate his observation, 'there is a probability that he may fall again.'

'And the second stroke,' she continued, taking no notice of his metaphor, 'is more to be dreaded than the first, is it not?'

'In Sir Richard's case it would probably be fatal.' The importance of the communication excused a gentle pressure of the fingers that he now held in his own; it was returned in a most unexpected manner-by her shaking hands with him.

'I am ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Wood,' she said, 'for your professional confidence; though what you have said has but corroborated my own apprehensions. If ever a good word from me-whether at the Court or elsewhere-can be of use to you, you shall have it.'

She had always been haughty to him, and even supercilious, but she had never before ventured to be patronising.

It was indeed a wretched awakening from his Fool's Paradise

'She only wanted to know how soon Hugh Trevor is likely to enter into his kingdom,' he muttered bitterly, as he turned round in his saddle and watched the girl's noble figure as it moved swiftly towards the Court. She has used my honest love as a stepping-stone to her own selfish ends.'

·

Here he did her wrong. Clara still thought that he was enamoured of her sister, and that he had merely given way to the temptation of a little gallantry with herself, for which, though she had for the moment encouraged it for her own purposes, he had received a well-merited rebuke. She was not angry with him for his audacity; she was too much accustomed to see men of all degrees fall at her feet to think very much of that; but his criticism on Hugh-made, as it obviously had been, with a personal reference to herself-she resented exceedingly. There were obstacles enough to overcome before she could attain the object of her ambition without gratuitous and authorized opposition such as this. She did not want to hear the opinion of the crowd about a matter on which she had made up her mind.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

ON HIS KNEES.

If all the selfish people in the world had the sagacity to do as well for themselves as they intend to do, it would be bad for the rest of us. Fortunately their very egotism interferes with their well-being in all directions except that of money-getting. Your miser is a triumphant success from first to last: his youth has but one dream, and age, so far from quenching it, adds to its flame. But your mere man of pleasure, than whom no more selfish creature exists, is wont to throw away many chances beside the main one, from sheer incapacity for self-denial. Mr. Hugh Trevor, for example, had as fixed an intention to get everything there was to be got for himself, at whatever cost to other people, as any young fellow of his years; but, with all his selfishness, he had no self-restraint, without which a permanent prosperity is unattainable. His honest nature despised plots and stratagems, save those which presented themselves on the instant, for the immediate attainment of his ends. The best of everything was good enough for him,' but it was necessary he should have it at once; and this impatience-an attribute of Royal blood, but not so practicable in other peopleoften prevented his getting it.

6

The contempt with which Jenny Beeton had treated his attentions had wounded his amour propre; his anger had also been aroused by certain remonstrances which Mr. Gurdon had ventured to make to him on this subject; and it was as much from

rique as passion that he had promised her father to marry her. He did not mean to do it if he could help it, which John Beeton also clearly understood, and hence his suspicions when he found his daughter had left his roof. Unaware of what had really happened, Hugh had nevertheless connected the poacher's visit to the Court with this delicate subject. He concluded that Honest John (as he had been christened in the tap-room by someone not unpossessed of a rudimentary sense of humour) had on the whole thought more was to be made by making a clean breast of it to Sir Richard than by holding to his bargain with himself, or, in other words, that he had sold him.

He was transported with rage at this breach of faith-a thing which annoys your rogue in the concrete much more than your moralist in the abstract-but was also filled with fear. Sooner or later he knew that the broad lands of Mirbridge must get into his own hands; but, in the meantime, he was dependent on the liberality of his father. Hitherto, thanks to the influence of his mother, this had been without stint; but it was quite possible that not only she might be unable to gloss over to Sir Richard such an affair as this, but that she might be unwilling to do so. He had told John Beeton that he could wind his mother round his little finger, and it was no idle boast; but there were some things concerning which she was not so pliable. If she resented his flirtations with Clara Thorne, what would she say to his promise to marry Jenny Beeton? If he had done it, indeed, she would without doubt have moved heaven and earth to procure his father's forgiveness. From the nettle Danger he would have then plucked the flower Safety; but now there was no such urgent demand for her intervention. He well knew the hopes she entertained for his making a good marriage, though ignorant of the pressing reasons that prompted them for his own sake; and that, in doing what he had done, he had wounded her where she would feel it most. For the first time in his life he looked forward to meeting her with apprehension. The delay in her return increased his fears. The break fast-hour had long arrived, but he remained upstairs in his own sittingroom unsummoned. There was nothing unusual in that, for it was his habit to be late, and no one ever ventured upon intruding on his privacy. He would have given much for a word with Gurdon, though he had now little liking for that gentleman, or even with his brother Charles. They could have at least told him what had taken place. Again and again he had heard the clatter of hoofs in the courtyard, the going and returning of the groom who had been sent for the doctor, and the doctor's arrival and departure; but the idea of anything being the matter in the way of illness had not occurred to him. He was not ill himself, and therefore there was no association of ideas to suggest it; he

only vaguely felt that there was something wrong, and very wrong, in connection with his own affairs.

As hunger can tame a lion, so prolonged anxiety has a subjugating influence upon a most selfish nature. While awaiting the return of the jury you may see the muscles of his back at work-however he may brave it out elsewhere-in the most hardened criminal. If his mother had come back to him at once, Hugh had made up his mind how to receive her: he would have growled out, 'Well, and what's up?' in the tones, if not of injured innocence, of one who has committed a peccadillo which has been absurdly magnified into a serious offence. But when at last she did come, with a 1 ok of displeasure upon her white face such as he had never s en there before, he rose from his chair alarmed, and with genuine solicitude inquired, 'What on earth has happened, mother?'

'A great misfortune,' she answered sternly; 'Heaven only knows how great, and it lies at your door.'

That last phrase comforted him a little; for a misfortune at one's door is not like a misfortune that happens to one's self. A miss in such a case is almost as good as a mile.

'How so?' he asked, with much more of conciliation in his manner, however, than he was in the habit of using.

'The news John Beeton brought with him this morning has well-nigh killed your father.'

'What news?"

It did not escape Lady Trevor that Hugh had replied to that part of her observation only that concerned himself, notwithstanding the nature of the tidings involved in the other. For an instant she saw her son as he really was.

'If you have a heart, Hugh, which I begin to doubt,' she replied significantly, 'it is a hard one.'

Nay, mother, that is not so,' he answered, with a pretence at cheerfulness. I'm sorry if the governor has been upset about me, if that is what you mean; but if it is so, it is the softness of my heart that has done it. I know that I am too impressionable as regards the fair sex, and own at once that I was nearly making a fool of myself regarding Jenny Beeton. But there, since you take it to heart so much, I will never speak to the girl again, I give you my word of honour.'

That is a very small thing to say, even if you mean it,' she answered sternly. She has gone out of harm's way-and yours-for ever.'

'Great Heaven! Is she dead?' he said.

For the first time his speech had feeling in it. There was even sympathy in his awestruck tones. The picture of the girl so full of life but yesterday, with life gone out of her, had presented itself to his mind, and, callous as it was, it shrank from

the contemplation of it. This touch of tenderness, while it weakened his own defence, by no means softened his mother towards him; he could be affected then, it seemed, by the supposed loss of the plaything he had designed for himself, but to hear that his father was struck down on what might be his deathbed, and by his own unfilial hand, had moved him not a whit.

Next to this unworthy son of hers, Lady Trevor loved her husband, and the recollection of how she had just left him, pale and speechless, with that far-off look on his face which seems to say 'Good-bye' to the world, was dragging at her heart-strings.

'The girl is not dead; but I would that she had never been born,' she answered vehemently. 'Did you not hear what I said about your father?'

'Well, of course; and did not I say that I was sorry?' he answered doggedly. In his present state it takes very little to upset him, no doubt, or else I don't know what has happened that there should be such a fuss about it. There is no such great harm in flirting with a pretty girl, I suppose, especially when nothing has come of it; when the governor was my age, if all tales be true, he was not so immaculate himself.'

White to the lips, Lady Trevor sank into a chair, and covered her face with her hands. Never, surely, had reproach so bitter fallen from a thoughtless tongue. For a moment she was overwhelmed by it; her sin, as it seemed, for the first time had found her out, and was inflicting on her retribution indeed. The next moment the thought of what this weakness might cost her by arousing her son's suspicions flashed upon her mind, and galvanized her failing powers into life. Fortunately, Hugh, alarmed by her sudden prostration, was only solicitons to excuse himself. The observation he had made would have been disrespectful, and in the worst taste, at any time, but, as he now perceived, must have been especially objectionable on account of his father's condition.

'I am sorry I said anything to distress you,' he murmured apologetically; and then, after a pause, 'Is the governor really so very ill ?'

There was something, not only of incredulity, in the ring of his voice, but of indifference, and even harshness, which stung his mother to the quick, and, as an insult gives courage to the coward, moved her to unwonted action. Now was the time, it struck her-now, if ever, now when his spirit was at the lowest -to make terms with her unruly son.

เ

Your father is very ill,' she answered, 'and it behoves you, for your own sake, to make amends for your past ill-conduct to him-crowned as it is by this last act of reckless folly-while there is yet time.'