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^MeNtor Famiy Ubrary of Veterinary Medioine 
 
 OiiHKnings School of Vetermary Medicine at 
 
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 200 Westboro Road 
 
 North Gfa«lon, MA 01698 
 
FAIR DIANA. 
 
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Fair Diana. 
 
 By "WANDERER," 
 
 AUTHOR OF "ACROSS COUNTRY,' 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY G. BOWERS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 8, 9, 10, BOUVERIE STREET. 
 

 LOKDON : 
 BBASBURT, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, wniTEFRIARS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAaE 
 
 I. — THE RECTORY 1 
 
 II. — MISS JANET NETTLERASH 8 
 
 III. — FAIR DIANA 15 
 
 IV. — THE ARM OP THE LAW 26 
 
 V. — MR. THROGMORTON TOMS 33 
 
 VI. — SIR HENRY GOES HUNTING 42 
 
 VII, — THE REV. C. T. MUDBURY DAWSON 54 
 
 VIII. — FAMILY ARRANGEMENTS 65 
 
 IX. — A LITTLE PRIVATE GOSSIP 70 
 
 X. — THE ELDORADO GOLD COMPANY (LIMITED) . . . . 77 
 
 XI. — THE LITTLE DINNER 92 
 
 XII. — THE HOLBORN VALE STAGHOUNDS 97 
 
 XIIL — SIR HENRY IS SURPRISED 103 
 
 XIV. — A VISIT TO THE HALL . . . ■ 110 
 
 XV. — Ralph's doubts 117 
 
 XVI. — A QUIET tIite-a-t£;te 122 
 
 XVII. — THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY 129 
 
 XVIII. — DIPLOMATIC 138 
 
 SIX. — A BAD COLD ^ 144 
 
 SX. — CONGRATULATIONS . . .' 152 
 
 XXI. — A HAPPY COUPLE 161 
 
 XXII. — A TRIP ABROAD 167 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XXIII. — HOME AGAIM 173 
 
 XXIV. — TOWX . 181 
 
 XXV. — AN EXPLANATION 187 
 
 XXVI. — HER OPENING DAY • . 193 
 
 XXVII. — A STEEPLECHASE 210 
 
 XXVIII. — AN INTERVIEW AT CLOSE QUARTERS 217 
 
 XXIX. — RECOVERY 225 
 
 XXX. — A NEW FIRM 233 
 
 XXXT. — THE LAST RUN 245 
 
 XXXII. — BEFORE READING THE WILL 257 
 
 XXXIII. — AFTER READING THE WILL 264 
 
 XXXIV. — THE LAST STRAW 271 
 
 XXXV. — A DEAL 276 
 
 XXXVI. — DISAPPEARANCE 289 
 
 XXXVII. — MISS NETTLERASH GOES IN ANGER 295 
 
 XXXVIII. — A PAINFUL REVELATION . . .... 305 
 
 XXXIX. — PURSUIT 314 
 
 XL. — RETRIBUTION 321 
 
 XLL — FOUND 330 
 
 XLIL — THE END 341 
 
LIST OF COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "she stood in the middle with a wnii'" .... Frontispiece 
 
 ' TICKET, PLEASE, MUM " 10 
 
 * ' COOKED, BY JOVE ! ' SAID RALPH " 20 
 
 'RALPH BEACHED THE HALL SHORTLY BEFORE THE DINNER HOUR " . 33 
 
 ' HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME, SIR ! " 51 
 
 '•here, TAKE YOUR MONEY,' SAID RALPH" 96 
 
 'an irate farmer SEIZED THE BRIDLE " 100 
 
 ''have you ASKED HER?' ENQUIRED SIR HENRY " 115 
 
 'HE DOES LOOK PRETTY, MY DEAR" 135 
 
 'darling, THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE" . 153 
 
 'OVER A COUPLE OF HURDLES " 163 
 
 'and I SAW MISS DIANA" . . , 184 
 
 'the baker's son" 198 
 
 'she tried her best" 216 
 
 ' WHAT IS the matter, BINGHAM ? " 240 
 
 'hurry up — OR I SHALL LET HIM GO " 255 
 
 ' WHAT AM I GOING TO DO ? " 274 
 
vm 
 
 LIST OF COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 " MR. TOMS PICKED HIMSELF UP " 286 
 
 "IK PURSUIT OF HIS wife" 291 
 
 "miss nettlerash bolted" 312 
 
 '• here they come !" 335 
 
 "mr. toms, have you made your will?" 350 
 
FAIK DIANA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE RECTOEY. 
 
 IT'S Ealpb ! " exclaimed 
 four young ladies of 
 various ages with one 
 voice, as the low door of 
 the Kectory dining-room 
 opened and a form 
 a])peared on the thres- 
 hold. " Oh, Ralph, 
 how glad we are you 
 have come ! " and the 
 four young ladies rushed 
 at their brother, who 
 received their warm 
 embraces with an in- 
 diflerence which he 
 
 would scarcely have displayed had they not been his sisters. 
 *' I wish you would let us know when you are coming," said a 
 
 querulous voice from the sofa, " so that we could get something 
 
 ready for you. You should not take us by surprise like this. I 
 
 don't believe there is anything in the house except some ham 
 
 and a bit of cold mutton." 
 
 " Never mind," answered Ealph Branscombe, kissing his 
 
 mother; "that will do for me. I did not come to eat, but to 
 
 see my father. Is he at home ? " 
 
Z FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " He lias gone round to old Mrs. Craik's, who won't last long, 
 he says. She is getting very weak. But he v.ill be back soon," 
 replied Regina, the eldest of the sisters, whose long dress, 
 careful toilette, and general neatness showed that she had left her 
 school-room days far behind. 
 
 " What has brought you down, Ralph ? " asked Mrs. Brans- 
 combe. "Anything wrong? I am sure there is something 
 wrong by the look of you." 
 
 " Nothing particular, mother," replied the young man. "At 
 any rate, nothing particular for you to worry about. How is 
 everybody here ? " 
 
 " Oh, we are all very well," said Mary, the second girl, who 
 had been long trying to edge in a word. "And do you know, 
 Ralph, Aunt Janet is coming to-morrow ? Isn't it a lark ? " 
 
 " How often have I told you, Mary," interrupted Mrs. Brans- 
 combe, severely, " that such expressions are quite unladylike. 
 I don't see any particular * lark,' as you call it, in the con- 
 templated arrival of your aunt Janet. She will probably be 
 much disturbed by your tom-boy tricks, and will be thoroughly 
 dissatisfied, not without reason, at her short stay here." 
 
 " She is always dissatisfied," answered Mary, rather pertly. 
 
 " She is a regular old grumbler," added Selina, the youngest 
 sister. 
 
 " Hush, children, hush ! " reproved Miss Regina. 
 
 "I don't know why she is coming," said Mrs. Branscombe. 
 " A visit to some old maid in the neighbourhood, I suppose. Nobody 
 can ever foresee what your aunt Janet will do, nor give any' satis- 
 factory reason for her actions. I must say I do wish your aunt 
 would select more convenient times for her visits and give us 
 rather longer notice. We had a telegram only this afternoon.'' 
 
 There was a noise in the passage, a heavy footstep, and Mr. 
 Branscombe came into the room. He was a man of about fifty 
 years of age, though he looked somewhat older. He stooped in 
 his walk, and his face showed the lines of care, while the corners 
 of his mouth, which were generally bent down, gave his ex- 
 pression something of a deprecating look. 
 
THE RECTORY. 6 
 
 "Ralph!" exclaimed he in surprise. "How are you, my 
 boy ? Come down for a day with the hounds ? I hope there is 
 nothing wrong," he added, nervously glancing first at his wife 
 and then at his son, whose hand he still held. 
 
 " I have three days' leave, father, and I thought I might as 
 well run down and see you, particularly as I might go out and 
 look at the hounds to-morrow. They meet at Batch Wood, 
 don't they?" 
 
 " Oh, is that all ? " asked the clergyman, greatly relieved. 
 
 **Well, it is not quite all," Ralph replied; " but I will tell 
 you after tea." 
 
 Then the conversation turned on Miss Janet Nettlerash's 
 proposed visit ; but the Rector could not avoid casting repeated 
 anxious glances at both his wife and his son. He had no appe- 
 tite for the cold viands, and was evidently desirous of laiowing 
 the real cause of his son's visit without any formal explanation. 
 He put various leading questions so as to avoid the interview in 
 the study which Ralph had foreshadowed. But the young man 
 was too wary to be caught by his father's very transparent 
 artifices, and resolutely declined making any confidences be- 
 fore his mother and sisters. He soon finished his own 
 tea and fidgeted on his chair impatiently. At last he broke 
 in — 
 
 " Now, father, if you have done, I should like to speak to 
 you in your study, please." 
 
 With a deep sigh Mr. Branscombe rose very unwillmgly, 
 saying to his wife, with affected cheerfulness, " We shall be back 
 directly, my dear." 
 
 "Now, what is it, my boy?" asked the Rector when they 
 were at last closeted in his sanctum. " You have made me quite 
 wretched." 
 
 "I am very sorry," replied Ralph; "but I cannot help it," 
 and he stirred the fire and turned up the lamp. " The fact is," 
 continued Ralph, " it is the old story. I am as hard up as I can 
 stick — haven't got a sovereign left — and several writs out 
 against me." 
 
 B 2 
 
4 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " What is the use of coming here ? " asked Mr. Branscombe, 
 querulously. 
 
 " Well," replied his son, pushing his curly auburn hair back 
 from a broad forehead, '' I don't loiow that it is much use, but I 
 thought 3'ou might help me a bit if we talked over matters." 
 
 " My dear boy," said the Rector, " you know I should be glad 
 to help you if I could, but you really ought to make your income 
 sufl&ce for your wants. You know you are much richer than I 
 am in proportion to the demands upon us." 
 
 " I know you cannot afford to give me any money," said 
 Ealph, " but I thought you might be able perhaps to spare a 
 pony just for a short time." 
 
 " A pony ! — five-aud-twenty pounds ! Why, Ralph, my balance 
 at the bank is scarcely that, and it will all have to be paid away 
 on Saturday. I cannot understand why you should always be in 
 such difficulties. Besides, what is the use of lending you 
 twenty-five pounds even if I had it ? You could not pay it 
 back." 
 
 *' Oh, yes I could, father," answered Ralph, " when my uncle 
 Henry's next cheque comes in." 
 
 The Rector smiled faintly. " I fancy that cheque is pretty 
 Avell mortgaged already," remarked he, drily. *' Besides, it 
 really would not be fair to your sisters, and I don't believe it 
 would help you much either. Would five-and-twenty clear off 
 all your debts ? " 
 
 *' No, indeed," laughed Ralph ; " very far from it. I should 
 want a good many ponies to do that." 
 
 *' It really is too bad," continued the Rector. " Do you owe 
 a very large sum ? " 
 
 *' Pretty well," replied his son. 
 
 " Why cannot you keep straight ? " repeated his father. " I 
 am perfectly at a loss to understand it. Here we are, six of us, 
 with four servants and two horses, and all the claims of the 
 parish, and we manage to scramble along somehow, and give you 
 a mount when you want one. And you have a good allowance 
 from your uncle, nobody to provide for, and your pay." 
 
THE RECTORY. O 
 
 " Pay," sneered Ralph, interrupting his father. " A hundred 
 a-year." 
 
 " Well, I wish I had that addition to my income. What on 
 earth do you spend all your money on ? " 
 
 " Well," said Ealph, " you see a fellow must live, and must 
 have a cluh. Then there's hunting — you would not expect me 
 to do without hunting, would you ? " 
 
 "Well — perhaps not. But one horse is not so expensive to 
 keep," answered his father. 
 
 " And then," continued the young man, " a fellow in my 
 position in London is expected to do a good deal." 
 
 " Then let them expect," said the Hector. 
 
 "Now, father," continued Ealph," "you know that is all 
 nonsense. If you were considered to he the heir of a man as 
 rich as my uncle Henry, if you were asked out everywhere, and 
 expected to go in for everything like I am, you know you would 
 not have the strength to shut yourself up and refuse all invitations, 
 and decline Ascot and Goodwood, and dinners at Greenwich, and 
 days in the Vale, and afternoons at the Orleans. Now, on your 
 honour, would you ? You are as easy as I am that way. Do 
 you recollect going to Warwick Steeplechases last spring '? And 
 what a row there was at home because we came hack so late ! " 
 
 " I am afraid there is a good deal in what you say," answered 
 the Bector, after a minute's reflection. "I am afraid, my boy, 
 that we are both rather weak, only, fortunately for your sisters, 
 your mother keeps a tight hand on me. But that does not help 
 you out of your present difficulty, does it ? " 
 
 " I am afraid not," smiled Ralph. " I don't know what the 
 deuce to do." 
 
 " Don't say deuce ; it is not gentlemanly in a clergyman's 
 house. Now what can we do in this matter ? I wish I could 
 help you. I would, indeed, if I could." 
 
 " I am sure you would, father," answered Ralph, cordially 
 grasping the Rector's hand. " You are very very good to me." 
 The old man blew his nose noisily. " What is the total sum 
 of your debts ? " asked he again, after a few moments. 
 
6 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 *' About a thousand pounds," replied Ealph, making a mental 
 calculation before he spoke. 
 
 "A thousand! Good God!" exclaimed the clergyman, 
 alarmed out of his propriety of language. "And what will 
 happen if you don't pay ? " 
 
 " They will first take Peabody, then they will sell me up, and 
 then I shall be bundled out of the office," answered Ralph. 
 
 " Misfortune and disgrace ! " exclaimed his father, " misfortune 
 and disgrace for the whole family. Poor Peabody ! — such a good 
 horse, too ! This will never do. You must go to Sir Henry." 
 
 "My uncle paid five hundred for me two years ago, and since 
 then he has allowed me, as you know, a hundred a quarter. 
 How can I go to him again '? " 
 
 " I see nothing else for it, my boy," said the Piector, throwing 
 himself wearily back into his arm-chair. " It is a bitter pill to 
 swallow, I know ; but I think you had better go to Sir Henry." 
 
 "It is excessively unpleasant,' remarked the young man. 
 
 "No doubt it is; but you know foolish actions always have 
 unpleasant consequences. Besides, after all, it is not so un- 
 pleasant as having your favourite horse and your nice furniture 
 sold up, and the bailiffs in your chambers ; and then I think you 
 are bound to spare us the disgi-ace, even though you thought 
 nothing of it yourself." 
 
 " I don't think my uncle will help me," said Ralph, sadly. 
 
 " I think he will," answered the Rector; " but I tell you what. 
 If you are afraid to go to him alone, I will go with you. It is 
 rather awkward just now, certainly. Besides, your Aunt Janet is 
 coming here to-morrow for twenty-four hours. But I will go 
 with you next day." 
 
 Hardly had the Rector made this proposition when he repented 
 it. Nothing was more terrible to him than to have to face his 
 wealthy brother. Sir Henry was the eldest of the family, and 
 inherited the estates, Avhich were large, although for the time im- 
 poverished. His brother had a very small sum in securities only, 
 and this he had unfortunately squandered in injudicious specu- 
 lations many years before. Since then Sir Henry had by great 
 
THE RECTOr.Y. 7 
 
 sagacity and unwearied labour largely increased the value of the 
 estates, had discovered coal under his property, had joined several 
 successful undertakings, and had thus amassed a large fortune 
 in j)ersonalty also. He gave the living to his brother, and 
 allowed him a few hundreds a year. He had sent Ralph to 
 Cambridge, and added to the j'oung man's means when he had 
 taken his degree. He had also other claims upon him, which 
 may be told later. Nothing was more repugnant to the Rector's 
 feelings than to beg his wealthy brother for more assistance, for 
 no man knew better than the Rector what an excellent use Sir 
 Henry had made of his opportunities, and what little use he had 
 made of his own. Nor did the rich man always forget to remind 
 those who asked for his help that they were unfortunate through 
 their own fault. 
 
 Ralph, however, was too generous to avail himself of his 
 father's impulsive offer. "No," said he, " indeed, father, you 
 shall not have the trouble and pain of asking my uncle to help me. 
 It would be bad enough for you to go on your own account ; you 
 shall not go on mine. I must do it myself. I will go over to 
 the Hall the day after to-morrow." 
 
 " Very well, Ralph," said his father. "But your Aunt Janet 
 is coming down, and she and your mother are sure to be quarrel- 
 ling. You must try and keep peace between them. If you don't 
 stop, the house will be wretched." 
 
 "Well, but father," said Ralph, "the prospect is not very 
 pleasant. Can I ride old Lazybones to-morrow ? Besides, I 
 have only a few shillings in my pocket, and I cannot even live 
 liere without something." 
 
 " Oh, never mind that," continued the Rector, overjoyed at 
 being able to keep his son for a day or two longer to act as a 
 buffer between his wife and sister-in-law. " I can spare a fiver 
 — here it is ; and of course you shall have Lazybones in the 
 morning." 
 
 "Thank you, father," said Ralph. "Very well, I will stop 
 till Friday. I'll hunt to-morrow, and see my uncle next day." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 MISS JANET NETTLERASH. 
 
 HAD been willing to stop to 
 make his aunt's visit 
 less disagreeable to his 
 i'ather, but he would 
 not give up the day's 
 hunting in order to 
 receive what he called 
 Miss Nettlerash's first 
 volley. This duty was 
 left to Eegina and her 
 little sister Polly, who 
 drove off to the station 
 in the one vehicle 
 which the Rector 
 boasted, an old-fashioned dog-cart, drawn by an equally old- 
 fashioned grey mare. Kitty, however, though old, was very fast, 
 particularly when she was going home, and she promised to do 
 many more years of useful service for the Rector's family. It 
 was about noon when the London train drew up at the Warborough 
 station. Miss Janet Nettlerash's head appeared at the window of a 
 first-class carriage. She wore a very large bonnet, decorated with 
 a perfect kitchen garden of artificial fruits and vegetables. Some 
 of her grey tresses, refusing to be confined in the bands which 
 Miss Janet affected, had escaped from the boundaries of the 
 kitchen garden, and were waving in the air like small rags, as 
 signals to her nieces. 
 
 "Where's your mother?" was her first question after she 
 had kissed the girls. "No, that is not mine. That bonnet- 
 box, with the black bag, and the parcel, and the bundle of 
 
MISS JANET NETTLERASH. ^ 
 
 umbrellas — one, two, three, four ; there are two missing. 
 Where are the others ? There is a bundle under the seat, 
 and the rug is in the corner. That is all. Now, where's your 
 mother ? " 
 
 " Mamma was busy," said Regina, " and she thought wt had 
 better come instead." 
 
 "Well, I do think," remarked Miss Nettlerash, "that my 
 only sister might have come to the station to meet me." At the 
 same time she threw up her chin a little, and held her nose 
 in the air for the space of a few seconds. But only for a few 
 seconds. 
 
 "I must look after my luggage," said she; "come on and 
 help me, children." 
 
 "Luggage!" exclaimed Regina. "Why, is not this your 
 luggage, aunt ? " pointing to the numerous packages which had 
 been deposited on the platform. 
 
 " Oh, those are only my little things. The luggage is in the 
 van, somewhere." 
 
 After some trouble two large trunks, and a basket, and a box 
 were extricated from the van, and the train proceeded on its 
 journey. 
 
 " All that for one day ? " asked Regina, somewhat viciously. 
 
 " Well, my dear, there is no occasion to make remarks of that 
 sort. I am perfectly well aware that you are soriy to see me at 
 the Rectory." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean that, aunt," interrupted Regina. 
 
 "I am very glad to hear it," said Miss Janet. "No, this 
 luggage is for a fortnight. I am going to stop at my friend 
 Mrs. Daw^son's. Your mother ought to know Mrs. Dawson — 
 a most delightful woman ; one of the cleverest women I ever 
 met. Surely you have heard of her lectures ? " and Miss Janet 
 stopped on the platform. 
 
 " But, aunt, hadn't we better get the things sent on, and talk 
 about Mrs. Dawson by and by? " 
 
 " True, true," admitted Miss Janet, who had completely 
 forgotten where she was, while expatiating on her friend's 
 
10 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 acquirements, and gesticulating witli her bundle of umbrellas. 
 *' Is the carnage here ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Regina. "Let me help you to carry your 
 things." 
 
 "Not that, my dear, not that," exclaimed her aunt, as little 
 Mary was going to seize a white bundle carefully knotted at the 
 top. " That is my bird. Nobody must touch dickey's cage 
 except myself." The old lady then seized dickey's cage with one 
 hand, and two or three more packages with the other, and moved 
 ofif towards the barrier, followed by her nieces and a couple of 
 porters. 
 
 " Ticket, please, mum," said the official at the exit. 
 
 " Ticket, oh dear me, I don't know what I have done with my 
 ticket." And Miss Janet put down dickey's cage, and the band- 
 box, and the bundle of umbrellas, and the black bag in order to 
 search for her ticket. They were exactly in the way of the 
 passengers who were crowding out of the station. There was an 
 ejaculation from one man, a growling remark from a second, and 
 at last a third said, " Now, old lady, get out of the way with them 
 bundles of yourn, please." 
 
 Miss Janet immediately ceased searching for her ticket. 
 " How very rude the people are ! I have a very good mind to 
 take that man to the police court. Who is he, guard '? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know, mum. Ticket, please," answered 
 the man. 
 
 Miss Janet then proceeded to raise her dress, saying it was 
 extremely dangerous to carry anything in an outer pocket. 
 Having succeeded in exposing to view a black silk petticoat of 
 venerable appearance, she turned its folds over and over to find 
 the receptacle for her treasures. Meanwhile the girls had 
 removed the objectionable packages into the dog-cart, which was 
 heaped up like a washerwoman's conveyance. They came back 
 to find Miss Janet still looking for her ticket. 
 
 " I am sure I took one, guard," she said, persistently 
 addressing the official by a title which did not belong to 
 him. 
 
»^lf, . 
 
MISS JANET NETTLERASH. 11 
 
 " I daresay you did, mum," was the reply ; " Lut we are bound 
 to see it." 
 
 " You don't doubt my word, do you ? " she asked, 
 
 " Not at all, mum ; but I cannot take yours nor anybody else's," 
 lie replied. 
 
 She continued to search meanwhile. 
 
 " Oh, I know where it is," she said suddenly with a smile; 
 "it is in the black bag," and she made a plunge through the 
 barrier. 
 
 The official again stopped her. " Ticket first, please, mum." 
 
 " But I tell you it is in my bag," she said. 
 
 " Well, I cannot let you out before you show your ticket or pay 
 the fare." 
 
 " But I tell you it is in my bag in the dog-cart. If you stop 
 me I shall report you." 
 
 The man growled something very uncomplimentary about old 
 women under his voice, and matters were becoming serious when 
 Regina returned to the rescue. 
 
 " Oh, I will fetch the bag," she exclaimed, and at last the 
 needed article was produced. 
 
 Miss Janet placed it on the barrier while little Mary held it 
 securely. Miss Janet then extracted her spectacles from the 
 l^ocket of the black silk petticoat — an operation requiring some 
 time. She opened the case and adjusted her spectacles on her 
 nose. Next she again raised her dress and put the spectacle 
 case back into the pocket. Only then was she in a position to 
 examine the bag. It struck her that for this purpose she 
 required keys. 
 
 " I always carry my keys tied round my waist," she remarked, 
 and proceeded, to the horror of the spectators, to raise the black 
 silk petticoat also. There was another one underneath this, 
 equally long and equally decent. It was of grey flannel, and the 
 keys were visible dependent from a chatelaine of white tape. 
 The knot of this had to be untied behind, and the keys then 
 came down with a rattle on the pavement. 
 
 Eegina picked them up, and in five minutes more Miss Janet 
 
12 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 had discovered the right oue. Refusing her niece's offer to open 
 the hag and take out the ticket, she proceeded to rummage, and 
 turned out first a pair of gloves, done up in a neat little silver 
 paper parcel, then a spare pair of spectacles, next a hottle of 
 salts, further two pocket handkerchiefs, then a fan, afterwards a 
 railway hook, and finally another railway hook with the long- 
 looked-for ticket sticking in its pages. She produced it 
 triumphantl3\ 
 
 " There, you see, guard, you need not have hcen so anxious 
 ahout it. I had no intention of cheating the railway company." 
 
 "I never said you had, mum," he replied; "but it's a 
 good thing everybody don't take half-an-hour to find their 
 tickets." 
 
 " You need not be rude," said Miss Janet, but the man did 
 not wait to hear her answer, for he was glad to abandon his post, 
 as the platform was now deserted by all except our party. 
 
 Mrs. Branscombe met her sister on the doorstep. 
 
 "How late you are!" she exclaimed, coldly kissing Miss 
 Janet. 
 
 " Yes," said the latter ; " really, Maud, I wonder you allow it. 
 I cannot understand how it is that George does not take steps to 
 remove that ignorant and rude guard you have at the station. I 
 had to unpack all my things to find my ticket," and Miss Janet 
 stopped in the narrow passage to recite the history of her wrongs, 
 completely blocking up all access, and interfering even with her 
 own luggage. 
 
 " You had better come in now, Janet," said Mrs. Branscombe 
 sharply. " It is lunch-time. Regina shall take you to your 
 room." 
 
 " Considering I have not seen you for two months," said 
 Aunt Janet, again throwing her chin up, "I think this is a very 
 cold reception." 
 
 " Why did you not give me longer notice ? " asked Mrs. 
 Branscombe. 
 
 "In /»?/ time," continued the old maid, "one sister's house 
 •was always open to the other. I suppose things have altered 
 
MISS JANET NETTLERASH. 13 
 
 now. You would always be welcome to my house, Maud, when- 
 ever you chose to come." 
 
 "Now go upstairs and don't talk nonsense, Janet," said the 
 Kector's wife sharply, " and don't be late for lunch." 
 
 " Nonsense indeed," sniffed Miss Janet as she ascended the 
 stairs. " What is the matter with your mother, my dear ? " she 
 said to Regina. 
 
 " Nothing that I know of, aunt," replied she. 
 
 In a few minutes all were assembled in the dining-room, 
 excepting, of course, Ralph. In his honour and that of his 
 aunt there was to be a late dinner at the Rectory instead 
 of a high tea. The party waited for about twenty minutes, 
 and sundry messages having been sent by the girls, they 
 at last sat down without Miss Janet, who swept in after the 
 children had been helped all round. They rose to receive 
 her. 
 
 " At lunch already? " Miss Janet said with her chin in the air 
 as she opened the door. " Well ! curious manners, I must say. 
 You say Ralph is here ? " she continued in answer to a remark 
 from one of the girls. " His work in London must be very easy 
 if he can afford to come away like this. Hunting, too ? breaking 
 his neck or his legs, I suppose?" At last she settled down, but 
 was silent only for a moment. " I am sure you will excuse me, 
 my dear Maud," she said in a tone of affected politeness and 
 affection, " but really I cannot eat this mutton. It is cold and 
 greasy." 
 
 Mrs. Branscombe bit her lip. " I ordered it for one o'clock, 
 Janet, thinking you would be here by that time. It is not my 
 fault. Have some cold beef." 
 
 Regina hastened to carve some for her aunt. She turned the 
 slices over on her plate, and then said " Regina, I wish you could 
 find me a piece rather better done. Really, Maud, I wonder 
 you can allow your children to eat raw meat like this. It is 
 most unwholesome. Have you read Dr. Bradley's pamphlet on 
 Trichinosis ? " 
 
 ** No ; and I don't want to," said Mrs. Branscombe. " I dare- 
 
14 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 say tbey could find you a piece rather better done. We most of 
 us like underdone meat." 
 
 " A very brutal, savage taste," Miss Janet remarked with 
 emphasis ; " and one very likely to lead to serious diseases. 
 If you won't pay any attention to the discoveries of science, I am 
 sure George will. I shall give him Dr. ]jradley's pamphlet 
 when he comes in." 
 
 Then for a few minutes there was peace, but not for long, for 
 soon Miss Janet, taking up a piece of butter on her knife, sniffed 
 it suspiciously. *' Is this your own butter, Maud ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," replied Mrs. Branscombe. 
 
 ** Well," she said, " if my dairymaid did not make better 
 butter than that, I should discharge her. What is the matter 
 with your cows ? I wonder you don't look after things better." 
 
 Regina had been fidgeting in her chair during the whole time 
 of lunch. It was certainly not easy to sit quiet under her aunt's 
 remarks. As to the younger children, they made no secret of 
 their indignation. Pert little Mary cried out aloud — 
 
 " Why, aunt, if you have got everything better at home, why 
 didn't you stop there '? " 
 
 Miss Janet flushed up angrily, but was silent during the rest 
 of luncheon. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 NOW becomes 
 necessary to 
 go back a few 
 hours and see 
 how Ralph 
 spent the day 
 of his aunt's 
 arrival. 
 
 Batch Wood 
 was only three 
 miles from the 
 Ptectory, and 
 about ten from 
 Rranscombe Hall, Sir Henry's place. Ralph therefore had 
 time to eat his breakfast in a much more leisurely manner 
 than was usual at the Rectory, where ever3'body was alwaj^s busy, 
 being constantly urged to punctual discharge of their various 
 duties by Mrs. Branscombe. 
 
 " How fat he is ! " was Ralph's exclamation when he dawdled 
 into the stable to get Lazybones saddled. " Why, the governor 
 can't have worked him at all ! " 
 
 "Not much, sir," said the old man of all work — gardener, 
 groom, and coachman rolled into one — with a smile. "Master's 
 afraid to let the young ladies ride 'im, and he don't ride 'im 
 much hisself. But he's always after me to see that I give 'im 
 plenty to eat." 
 
 There was a tradition about Lazybones in the Rectory, a 
 tradition sedulously kept up by the Rev. George Branscombe 
 himself. It was to the effect, that Lazybones was a most diffi- 
 
1() FAIK DIANA. 
 
 cult horse to ride, and that no one could sit him unless he 
 possessed much experience and nerve. The Rector sternly 
 forhade any of his daughters to think of riding so dangerous a 
 quadruped. Lazybones was invested with a mysterious glamour 
 of awful and perilous tricks. Mr. Branscombe did not exactly 
 say that he pulled hard, nor even that he was in the habit of 
 kicking and plunging, but he implied it ; and it was generally 
 understood at the liectory that no one could possibly ride Lazy- 
 bones except Ealph and, of course, Mr. Branscombe himself, 
 who was supposed by the whole family to be the best horseman 
 in England. As a result. Lazybones had not nearly enough 
 work. He was far too good for harness ; besides, he might 
 smash the carriage to pieces — at least, so it was said — and the 
 Hector had very little time to ride about, for his work was con- 
 centrated within a comparatively short distance of the Rectory. 
 The horse, therefore, was only brought out on the rare occasions 
 when INIr. Branscombe could devote a whole day to sport — for he 
 did not belong to the modern school, and thought it no disgrace 
 to his cloth to follow hounds over the wide pastures of the War- 
 boro' Vale, or up the steep sides of the Eastern Downs. In the 
 winter a fortnight often elapsed before Lazybones put his head 
 out of the stable. AYlien Ralph came down he had work 
 enough, but the young man's holidays were not as long nor as. 
 frequent as he would have desired. The tradition, however, was 
 consistently adhered to, and when, after a long rest. Lazybones 
 gave a playful buck, this jump was quoted for weeks, as a proof 
 that the horse was more dangerous than ever. As a matter of 
 fact, a quieter one never was foaled. His age was against his 
 being habitually unmanageable, for he was nearer twenty than 
 ten. ]jut the fiction might have had some slight foundation in 
 fact some fifteen years back, and it had been kept up, first of all, 
 no doubt, to prevent any possible accident to a j)arcel of young 
 childi'eu who were all anxious to get on the back of anything 
 with four legs ; and subsequently rather as a matter of course — 
 an acknowledged natural phenomenon, like sunrise and sunset. 
 Ho one in the Rectory (except Ralph himself) doubted it ; and 
 
FAIR DIANA. 17 
 
 it was always understood that a really first-rate man was re- 
 quired to sit on Lazybones, whose name had been conferred on 
 him as a good standing joke, it being universally accepted that a 
 more lively animal never existed. 
 
 Ralph had his own opinion, which he kept to himself. He 
 knew better than to upset the fetish ; had he done so, his sisters 
 would have at once claimed the horse, and he could no longer 
 have had the exclusive use of him whenever he came to Warboro'. 
 But even Ralph acknowledged that things were going too far, for 
 the horse was so overfed and so fat that he was really unfit to go 
 through a day's hunting. He was a powerful brown, with strong 
 short legs and wide hips, which would have been ragged if he 
 had been drawn fine. Lazybones would have been up to sixteen 
 stone when in condition ; to-day he had to carry twelve only, and 
 danced along tlie turnpike road in glee at being at last allowed 
 " a day out," 
 
 Batch Wood was a favourite meet, as it always held at least 
 a brace of foxes, and there was a large field assembled. Hounds 
 were already in cover when Ralph reached the wood, and 
 nodding to male friends, while he raised his hat to the Master 
 and to the ladies, he at once rode up to a girl on a thoroughbred 
 bay horse. She had a slight and graceful figure : she was 
 dressed in a dark brown habit, over which she wore a grey 
 waterproof jacket, for the weather looked dull and stormy. Her 
 low hat was set well forward, with a touch of coquetry, on a 
 small and well-shaped head : jet black hair was gathered up under 
 it, over the tiniest ears imaginable — ears like delicate shells. 
 Her face was, at first sight, disappoifitiug. A pair of very dark 
 eyebro\AS, almost straight, and a nose inclined to be aquiline, 
 gave her a very determined look, rather apt to frighten strangers 
 away. Her large black eyes, too, were scarcely calculated to 
 reassure a nervous man, so steady and strong were their 
 almost masculine glances. Her complexion was pale, and her 
 fiice oval — perhaps scarcely sufficiently filled out, but promising 
 well for the years of matronhood. Her mouth was well-shaped, 
 but not too small, and the smiles which frequentlj' rippled over 
 
IS FAIR DIANA. 
 
 it took away from the sternness of the eyebrows and eyes ; tlie 
 latter would, at times, be soft, tender, and lovinf>-, like those of a 
 deer. At least, so some maintained, but then they had b(_>eu 
 particularly fortunate. The young lady was attended, at a 
 respectful distance, by a groom in unexceptionable livery, 
 mounted on a handsome well-bred horse. 
 
 "How are you, Diana?" asked Ralph, extending his 
 hand. 
 
 " You here, Ralph ? " she said, shaking hands with jiiin. 
 "Very well, thank you. When did you come down?'' And 
 scarcely waiting for a reply, she pointed with her hunting crop 
 to a gentleman on her left. " Colonel Mannering, let me intro- 
 duce my cousin, Ralph Branscombe." 
 
 The gentleman in question bowed. He, too, \'.as tall, dark, 
 and distinguished-looking. He was faultlessly dressed for hunt- 
 ing, every detail being carefully carried out to the most minute 
 particulars. Ralph thought that his eyes, which were almost as 
 dark as the young lady's, scanned his own appearance with some- 
 thing like contempt. But then Ralph had special reasons for 
 always being particularly sensitive about his cousin Diana 
 Branscombe's male friends. 
 
 " Is my uncle here ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," answered his cousin ; " he had to go up to town ; 
 besides it's a long way from the Hall, and he is not as active as 
 he used to be. We sent the horses on, and Colonel Mannering 
 drove me over in the dog-cart." 
 
 " Confound the fellow ! " thought Ralph ; " this appears to be 
 a new flirtation." ^ 
 
 But a holloa came from the other side of the wood, and there 
 was no time for him to think more of his cousin's ten-mile drive 
 with the handsome Colonel. " Tally ho ! Tally ho ! Gone 
 away ! " And then came the scurry and rush so well known to all 
 foxhunters — the moment of excitement and joy which makes up 
 for many blank draws and many weary half-hours of waiting. 
 The careful Master had managed to keep the best side of the 
 covert clear of horsemen and footmen, so tlie fox had a fair 
 
FAIR DIANA. 19 
 
 chance, of wliicli he took every advantiigc. Batch Wood was 
 bordered on the other side by a lane, and down this the field 
 galloped, to circumvent an impossible hedge which separated 
 them from the fox's line. There was the usual jam at the gate 
 out of the lane, and Ralph, full of running,' was not going to 
 waste time by waiting his turn, but jumped a wattle fence into 
 the plough, and tore after the hounds, who were well out of 
 cover with a good lead. The pace was unusually fast ; the 
 ground was heavy, the fox headed for a well-known gorse within 
 a mile and a half of Batch Wood, and a number of " knowing 
 ones " kept to the lane, and then dodged away to the left, through 
 a line of gates, to avoid nasty jumps and deep fallows. Ralph, 
 however, stuck to the hounds ; he was by no means a road- rider, 
 and would not have enjoyed hunting if he had not been close up. 
 *' Old Lazybones will gallop as far as Denton Gorse," he 
 thought, as he roused the horse a bit at a forbidding-looking 
 blackthorn hedge. So he did, jumping well, and going as fast 
 as any of them. But there was no check at Denton Grorse. 
 The fox never dwelt there a moment, but described a slight arc 
 of a circle and at once left it for the open Vale. Scent was good, 
 and hounds still vrell ahead of horses, the ascent to the gorse 
 having induced the majority to take a slight pull. The roadsters 
 here " nicked in," and like an avalanche all galloped down the 
 muddy lane which led to the Horfield pastures. Through a gate 
 to the right, still down hill, over a " rigg-and-furrow " meadow, 
 almost as sticky as plough. Then across a water-jump, through 
 Birch's farmyard, with its muck and its dirty pond and poached 
 gateways ; out on the lower side, up the grassy slope of Horfield 
 Hill. Here the hounds fairly raced, and the Colonel rushed past 
 Ralph, sending a dab of mud right into his left eye. After 
 him flew Diana, her thoroughbred carrying nine stone as if she 
 had been a feather ; and gradually Ralph awoke to the convic- 
 tion that Lazybones was tiring under him. The horse slackened 
 his speed without a pull at the reins ; he subsided into a canter, 
 then into a trot, and before Diana disappeared over the crest of 
 the hill he dropped into a walk. 
 
20 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " Cooked, b}' Jove ! " said Ralph, watching the fast retreating 
 figures, "I must let the poor beast get his wind, or I shall do 
 huu altogether. No chance of catching them again to-da}', I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 Looking about him, Ralph soon saw his way out, and walked 
 quietly down the hill to a gate on the right, which led into 
 another wide grass field, bordered by a little brook, and with a 
 barn in the far corner. Beyond the barn was a bed of osiers, 
 crossed diagonally by a Avatercourse. Ralph rode up to the barn, 
 wondering what he should do next (for he was unwilling to give 
 up all hope, ride home, and face Miss Nettlerash thus early). 
 He jumped off old Lazybones, and slipping the reins over his 
 arm, allowed the horse to recover his wind, idly gazing round. 
 Suddenly his glance became fixed on a spot in the fence behind 
 the little brook. Out of this fence ajipeared a tiny head, sharp, 
 wary, and cunning. The head was poked out, and then drawn 
 in again. Ralph stood motionless as a statue. The head 
 appeared once more, and was followed by a body — a dirty, 
 bedraggled body, carrying a still dirtier tail. The object darted 
 across the field to the far fence, then turned, disappeared for a 
 moment, showed again, and finally sneaked into the osiers. It 
 was undoubtedly the hunted fox, who had turned short back. 
 " Hurra ! Tall}^ ho ! " Ralph could scarcel}^ repress the shout, 
 but managed to check himself in time. " No use halloaing," 
 thought he, " scent is capital, they'll be after him directly, and 
 they could not come any faster if I shouted ever so loud, and I 
 shall see them all taking this beastly blind place." 
 
 So he waited quietly at the corner of the barn. He had not 
 to wait long, for in less than five minutes he heard a distant 
 wow-wow-wow, coming rapidly nearer. Another moment or 
 two, and Sensible, one of the young entry, scrambled through 
 the hedge and jumped the water. Straining after the puppy 
 was Locksley, getting on in years, or he would have been first. 
 As of yore, close to him Badger and Bouncer, last year's hounds, 
 keen of scent and fleet of foot, and then, a few yards back, a lot 
 of them all together trying for the first place. Some swarmed 
 

 ^ 
 p^ 
 
 p; 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 o 
 o 
 
FAIR DIANA, 21 
 
 over ; some pushe 1 through ; and before the body of the pack 
 had crossed, Mark, the first whip, charged the fence a few yards 
 to the left, crying cheerily, " Forrard my beauties ! forrard away, 
 forrard ! " Mark was not likely to make a blunder, nor his horse 
 either, a tall, slashing thoroughbred, with big splints and curby 
 hocks, but fit to carry a house, and fast enough for Liverpool. 
 Scarcely had he landed when Ralph saw a well-known figure 
 approaching. It was his cousin on her bay — still full of running 
 and prepared to fly the jump. How well she looked as she rode 
 up to the fence ! Sitting back, and her trim figure perfectl}' 
 balanced in time with the horse's stride, her small hands well 
 down, keeping his head straight without pulling at him ; her 
 cheek, which was pale before, now flushed with forty fiist minutes, 
 just one little stray lock of black hair blowing back, but altogether 
 neither untidy nor flustered, her lips slightly compressed, while 
 the light of enjoyment and determination shone in her black 
 eyes. A slight chirrup, and the gallant horse flew high into the 
 air and cleared hedge and brook without touching a twig. As 
 soon as she was well over, Ralph held up his hand. Seeing his 
 signal, and also the hounds feathering on the far side, she 
 pulled up. 
 
 "What are you doing here, Ralph? " she asked. 
 
 " He's in the osiers — the fox, I mean. Stop iiere and see them 
 take that fence. He's about done ! hounds will chop him in 
 there. I don't think he'll run another yard. But if he did get 
 a-\Vay again, we could not have a better place than this ; there's 
 a gate into the cover just behind us, and a bridle bridge over 
 the brook, if we want to go back. We can get to them either 
 way. Look out, here comes Saintsbury Snuft'box, he'll get over 
 all right." 
 
 Saintsbury Snuft'box was a gentleman who lived on his means, 
 supplemented by his wits, a few miles from Warboro'. He was 
 a little man of uncertain age, with a brick-red, weather-beaten 
 face, a sharp aquiline nose, and long, untidy hair. He was 
 passionately fond of the chase, and legitimate fox-hunting not 
 affording him sufficient sport, he had accepted the secretary- 
 
22 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 sbip of the Holborn Yale lioniicls, a puck ^vllicl^ huutecl the 
 carted deer. Saintsbnry was a determined rider, and, as he 
 barely pulled ten stone in his stockings, had no ditficulty in 
 l^etting well carried. His horse, a strong short-legged animal, 
 showed no signs of fatigue, so Snuffbox popped orer neatly, and 
 cleared the place without hesitation. 
 
 Next came another pink coat — young Paull, the son of the 
 county member — a fine, handsome youth whose pleasant ways 
 and nice manners did much to keep his father's seat for him. 
 Egerton Paull laiew how to keep his own as well — his big brown, 
 over sixteen two, just brushed through the topmost twigs of the 
 fence, and landed safely ; but his flanks were heaving and his 
 distended nostrils showed that he had nearly enough. 
 
 " There's the London bruiser," said Ptalph, " I think he's 
 about done. Two to one he don't get over. Of course he"s 
 bound to try, as Paull has jumped it." 
 
 The " London bruiser " was the Honourable Seaton Delaval, a 
 erentleman who rode but did not hunt. Unless there was a lot 
 of jumping and galloping Mr. Delaval voted it a bad day, and he 
 always considered it a point of honour to follow hounds. Even 
 if there were a handy gate five yards on the right, he would try 
 and jump the place where hounds had crossed. Hence he gene- 
 rally showed better at the beginning than at the end of a 
 severe run. He would have stared if anyone had suggested that 
 he ought to save his horse even if he had no regard for his own 
 bones. The Honourable Seaton Delaval did not like being behind 
 Paull and Snuffbox, still less did he care about being beaten by a 
 lady, so he charged furiously at the fence, spurring his horse as 
 he approached ; the poor beast was willing, but weak, the heavy 
 ground and the impetuous riding of his master having finished 
 him. 
 
 " Two sovereigns to one — three to one he comes down ! " 
 shouted Ralph, getting quite excited. 
 
 "I won't take it," said Diana. "Oh! look at the poor 
 horse," she cried in horror, as the bruiser crashed heavily 
 through the fence, and the horse rolled into the brook. 
 
FAIR DIANA. 23 
 
 Pailpli was going to rush to his rescue, but a shout 
 " Get out of the way, you fool ! " stopped him. It was the 
 gallant Colonel, who was coming along as fast as Mr. Delaval, 
 and narrowly missed a similar fate. The horse pecked, half 
 recovered himself, pecked again, and would have been in the 
 water if INIannering had not jumped off, quick as thought. 
 
 "Here comes Dr. Quayle," cried Ralph, "and there's the 
 Frenchman too." 
 
 Dr. Quayle rode straight for the fence till he perceived the 
 gleam of the Avater through it, then hesitated, then again set his 
 horse going ; but the hesitation was fatal, the good old grey was 
 tired, and glad of an excuse. He felt that his master did not 
 care much about jumping the place, stopped dead, and began 
 calmly munching the dry twigs of the blackthorn. 
 
 " Three to one the Frenchman shirks it ! " called out Ralph 
 again. " There ! I told you so. He's off to Shuffler's gate." 
 This as a bearded gentleman of florid appearance, wearing a very 
 wide scarlet coat, and riding a game looking brown horse just as 
 if he were going to tumble off every moment, pulled up and then 
 galloped oft' to the right. His ample coat tails flapped in the air 
 as he went ; his portly form was bent forward, and to the spec- 
 tators he looked as if he were endeavouring to kiss his horse's 
 ears. But Monsieur Couvray seldom fell, though he looked as 
 if he were always about to fall; and in explanation of this 
 curious fact it may be mentioned that he never jumped if he 
 could help it. 
 
 By this time those who had crossed the obstacle were all 
 assembled at the osiers, in which hounds were hunting with loud 
 music. The group therefore moved av/ay from the barn, while 
 horsemen who had found their way through the gate, or had 
 "nicked" in by a fluke, successively arrived on their panting steeds 
 by ones, twos, and threes. The gallant Master was one of the late 
 arrivals ; he was a heavy weight and in such ground could not 
 possibly be to the front. Soon " Who-op " sounded from the 
 covert, and the fox's draggled remains were brought out by Mark, 
 so that the proper function might be performed in the meadow. 
 
24 FAIR DIAKA. 
 
 " Fift3--four minutes ^^■itllout a check," said one, -who had 
 never been in it at all. " Fastest time I have ever seen ! " 
 
 " Forty-seven, I make it," remarked Snuffbox. 
 
 " Over an hour," observed the Frenchman, mopping his 
 forehead. 
 
 " Quite good enough for me," said the Colonel. " Don't you 
 think so, Di. ?" 
 
 Ralph looked round sharply at the familiar way in which his 
 cousin was being addressed. She flushed up suddenly, and 
 bending over, whispered something to the Colonel. The latter 
 nodded. The whisper struck Ralph almost more than the fact 
 that the gallant oflicer had called Miss Branscombe by her 
 christian name. He did not feel any happier when she said : 
 
 " I think I've had enough, Ralph. AVe are going home. 
 When shall we see ypu at the Hall ? " 
 
 *' I am coming over to-morrow to see my uncle," answered 
 he, "perhaps you can give me some lunch afterwards." 
 
 *' You won't find Uncle Henry till the evening," replied Diana, 
 *' he is not coming down from London till dinner. Better dine 
 with us." 
 
 " Thank you," answered Ralph, " I will, for I must see 
 my uncle." Then, after a moment's hesitation, he ventured a 
 leading question in Avhat he tried to make a careless manner, 
 " Any one else staying at the Hall ? " 
 
 " No," said Diana, " no one except Mrs. Gore ; she's there, of 
 course. Good-bye, then." And with a friendly nod she turned 
 her horse's head. Colonel Mannering, who just condescended to 
 a cold salute, followed her. 
 
 " Well," thought Ralph, " of all idiots Uncle Henry is the 
 biggest. To leave a girl like that in the house with a fellow like 
 Mannering ! Why Diana can't live without a heavy flirtation, 
 and Mrs. Gore is no better than a statue to look after her ! " 
 
 Perhaps if Ralph's feelings towards his cousin had been less 
 decided. Sir Henry's conduct would not have appeared to him so 
 idiotic. And considering how short the acquaintance, it was a 
 little rough on Colonel Mannering to put him down at once as a 
 
FAIR DIANA. 
 
 25 
 
 professional lady-killer. But men in Ralph's position are not 
 always absolutely calm and logical in their reasoning, and he 
 turned Lazybones homewards in a very perturbed frame of mind. 
 To him it appeared obvious that a new flirtation was going 
 on, and Ralph knew too much of his cousin's old flirtations to treat 
 them lightly. He rode very slowly, and Mr. Delaval, who was 
 going back with Mr. Eowley, the local horse-dealer, caught him 
 up. As they passed at a fast trot he thought he heard Rowley 
 say — probably in answer to some question of the London 
 bruiser's — 
 
 " Oh ! its her new fancy man, I suppose ! " 
 
 This was not reassuring. But perhaps they were not speaking 
 of Diana. 
 
CHAPTER IT 
 
 THE ARM OF THE LAW 
 
 TPIE Rectory the ill- 
 humour of the younger 
 children, and Mrs. 
 Branscombe's own in- 
 dignation, were very 
 much soothed when 
 Miss Janet produced 
 irom one of her huge 
 trunks a complete 
 collection of presents 
 for the family. There 
 were books for the 
 liev. George Brans- 
 combe,' a china plate 
 for her sister, a pretty 
 dress for Eegina, and 
 various attractive gifts for the otiier girls. When Ralph re- 
 turned he quickly changed his clothes, and then walked 
 impatiently up and down the terrace, smoking his pipe. 
 
 *' Confound the old cat," he muttered. " Does she think she 
 can purchase the right of insulting my mother and bullying all 
 of us by her presents. Regina says she was perfectly awful at 
 lunch. I would much rather she stopped away altogether, and 
 spared us both her company and her gifts." 
 His mother beckoned him from the window. 
 "Your Aunt Janet wants you," she said, as he approached 
 her ; " but put your pipe down, you know she hates smoking." 
 Ralph obeyed unwillingl}', and stepped into the drawing-room. 
 " How horrid ! you have been smoking again, Ralph," exclaimed 
 
THK ARM OF THE LAW. 27 
 
 his aunt, at once. " Mrs. Dawson lias given me a most valuable 
 pamphlet, in which the evil consequences of tobacco are fully- 
 shown. I will lend it you, and I am quite sure when you have read 
 it you will give up this pernicious habit. I cannot understand 
 how you can allow it," she added, turning to Mrs. Branscombe. 
 
 " I cannot help it," replied the latter ; " but I really do not 
 think it does much harm." 
 
 "There you are quite mistaken, Maud. If you had had the 
 advantage, as I have, of Mrs. Dawson's company, besides that of 
 the clever men she assembles at her house, you would know- 
 that tobacco is one of the most mischievous drugs which can 
 possibly be indulged in, second only in its baneful efi'ects to 
 alcohol itself. For the benefit of your children at least, if not 
 for your own, you should read some of the numerous works on the 
 subject. I will take care to bring a parcel down next time I come. 
 MeauAvhile, here are a few tracts of the Anti-tobacco League- — 
 a capital institution, deserving of the warmest support." 
 
 And with these words she produced from the trunk a bundle 
 of those tracts, printed on a half sheet of inferior paper, 
 which some of our readers may have had thrust into their hands 
 at railway stations, bazaars, and places of entertainment. 
 
 "Thank you, aunt," said Ralph, drily, "they will be useful 
 as pipe-lighters." 
 
 " I do wish," retorted Miss Janet, " that you would use your 
 brains to think over these pamphlets instead of exercising them 
 in making bad jokes. That remark of yours may be witty, but 
 it is frivolous, and not respectful to your aunt. I cannot 
 tolerate, still less encourage, smoking ; and although I daresay 
 you would have liked me to bring you a box of cigars or a nasty 
 j)ipe, I have not done so. This is your present," and she pro- 
 duced a very handsome leather dressing-case, with elaborate 
 fittings, sufficiently complete even for a young gentleman of 
 Ralph's luxurious habits. " There," she said, " I have had your 
 initials engraved on the tops of the bottles. I hope you like it." 
 
 Miss Janet was the only surviving sister of Mrs. Branscombe, 
 and a year or tv»'o younger. Miss Nettlerash, the eldest sister, 
 
28 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 had ciied seven years previously, but the whole family and all 
 Miss Janet's friends had become so accustomed to this lady's 
 christian name that she scarcely ever went by the style of 
 Miss Nettlerash. Nor did she resent the omission. Originally 
 each of the three sisters had had the same amount of money (about 
 ten thousand pounds), but the eldest was an extremely careful 
 woman, whose prudence v.as sometimes called by her enemies 
 avarice. She spent very little, and made some very judicious 
 investments. When she died and left her whole fortune to 
 Miss Janet, it was discovered that the capital had more than 
 doubled. Miss Janet was therefore decidedly well off, but it was 
 currently reported in the family that ehe spent her whole 
 income, and frequently trenched on her capital, partly by lavish 
 presents, but still more in supporting various institutions such 
 as the Anti-tobacco League, and others of a much more objection- 
 able nature, and assisting impecunious artists and musical 
 composers, by Avhom Miss Janet was in the habit of being 
 terribly gulled. She often declared her intention of leaving such 
 property as she might be possessed of to her favourite associations 
 and such of her proteges as might not have rewarded her kind- 
 ness by base ingratitude. And she lost no opportunity of letting 
 her relatives know that they had nothing to expect from her. 
 
 Young people are more easily pleased and generally less 
 calculating than older ones. Her nieces, and even Ealph, there- 
 fore, were more willing to accept Miss Janet's presents than 
 ]\Irs. Branscombe herself. The latter, though generally jjolite 
 to her sister, could scarcely conceal her dislike to her visits, and 
 her impatience at her criticism. 
 
 " I never heard of such impudence," said Mrs. Branscombe to 
 her son, when bedtime came. " My butter is celebrated in the 
 whole parish, and only the other day Lady Blenkinsop sent 
 down to know whether I could spare a couple of pounds. The 
 idea of abusing my butter ! It would be all very well if she had 
 anything to leave. The silly old thing is wasting all her money 
 on leagues and associations, and strumming foreigners and 
 Mrs. Dawsons. I really think she ought to be locked up in a 
 
THE ARM OF THE LAW. 29 
 
 lunatic asylum. But, Ealpli, you -will have to see her to the 
 railway station to-morrow." 
 
 "Very well, mother," answered Ralph, taking up his pipe 
 again. " I shall just have a smoke before I turn in." As Ralph 
 smoked he was occupied rather with thoughts of his cousin and 
 of the approaching interview with Sir Henry than with his aunt 
 Janet. Never having been able to make both ends meet, 
 occasional money troubles were inevitable, but hitherto Ralph 
 had got over them with an ingenuity worthy of a better cause. 
 Ralph knew that there were one or two " things out against 
 him," and wondered whether the bailiffs would run him down at 
 the Rectory. He felt that delay would be fatal, and he must at 
 all hazards see his uncle within the shortest possible time. He 
 did not wish to have writs or a judgment summons served on him 
 at Warborough. Such a thing would ooze out at once in so 
 small a place, and be unpleasant to his father, whom he adored, 
 and the cause of many sermons from his mother, whom he feared. 
 But when he had driven his aunt to the station to meet the train 
 which came from London, and was to take her on to her beloved 
 Mrs. Dawson's, something curious took place. Was it instinct 
 or knowledge of human nature which made Ralph particularly 
 notice an individual who got out of a third-class carriage in the 
 same train, and looked about him in the helpless manner so 
 characteristic of a cockney set down on the ill-lighted platform 
 of a small country station on a wet winter's evening ? It may 
 at any rate be doubted whether pure politeness induced Ralph to 
 approach the stranger, who was waiting until the solitary and 
 overworked porter could disentangle himself from the clattering 
 milk-pans he was endeavouring to get into order. 
 
 " Can I assist you, sir ? " asked Ralph. " You seem to be a 
 stranger." 
 
 " Thank you," replied the man. " I want to get to Mr. 
 Branscombe's Rectory. Can I walk there ? Which is the way ? " 
 
 " A bailiff," Ralph muttered. " He will have me if I don't 
 mind. It is a long walk," he continued aloud, " but I have my 
 dog-cart here and will drive you to within a short distance of it 
 if 3'ou like." 
 
30 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " Very kind, I am sure," said the stninger ; " but I could not 
 trespass on you." 
 
 " Ob, no trouble at all," Ralpli went on. " I pass witbin a 
 quarter of a mile of tbe place. Come on." 
 
 He led tbe man to wliere old Kitty was impatiently awaiting 
 her young master. Tbe stranger was bundled in and Ralpb 
 followed. 
 
 "Have sometbing warm lirsf?" be asked. "We pass tbe 
 * Pig and Wbistle.' " 
 
 " Well, I am sure I am very much obliged," replied bis nevr 
 friend. " I don't mind if I do." 
 
 So Ralpb ordered two glasses of hot " Avitb." Vvlien they 
 were consumed be ventured upon more delicate ground. 
 
 " I expect you bave business witb young Mr. Branscombe ?" 
 be boldly suggested as be took tbe reins. 
 
 " How do you know tbat ? " asked the stranger, quickly and 
 rather suspiciously. 
 
 " Well, you see," said Ralpb, confidentially, " lawyers bear a 
 good deal of what goes on in a small place like this." 
 
 " Oh, you are a lawyer, are you? Why, then you are a sort 
 of pal of mine." 
 
 "And I suppose you are after sometbing, are you not '? " 
 
 " Yes, I am after Mr. Ralpb Branscombe. A deal of trouble 
 he has given me, too — judgment summons, you know," he 
 added, significantly tapping his breast-pocket. " Sold all his 
 smart things in his London chambers to some mate of his. We 
 could not touch a stick. Had to run down here. Put us to a 
 lot of trouble, he has," repeated the man. 
 
 "Sad dog, sad dog," sighed Ralpb. "I am sorry for bis 
 poor father." 
 
 " I suppose the old gentleman will stump up ? " asked tbe 
 London man as Ralpb flicked old Kitty, who showed an un- 
 accountable desire to turn up a well-known lane. 
 
 " Don't know tbat he can," re2)lied Ralpb ; " and I don't think 
 he will," be added. " We know him pretty well hereabouts. 
 How much is it for '? " 
 
THE ARM OF THE LAW. 31 
 
 " I don't miud telling you," said the cockney. " One hundred 
 and thirty-five pounds and costs — suit of Sweeting c\: Co." 
 
 " Bill discounters, eh '? " said Ralph, who could hardly repress 
 a shiver when he heard the name of his creditor. Sharks, 
 rather, he thought. 
 
 " Sonaething like it," answered the stranger. " Do you think 
 the old gentleman will pay ? " 
 
 "I am sure he cannot," replied Ralph. " I don't helieve he 
 has got the money, or anything like it." 
 
 " Bad job, then," remarked the stranger. 
 
 " Well, I will give you a tip," answered Ralph ; " all on the 
 square, you know." 
 
 " Glad of one," replied the London man. " Willing to do 
 you a good turn when I can." 
 
 "Well," said Ralph, "the young man has got some niceish 
 things down here — jewellery and presents, and that kind of thing, 
 you know. At any rate, there is something worth taking. Now, 
 look here, you just walk into the room on the left when you get 
 into the house. That is ^h. Ralph's, and that is where he keeps 
 all his own property. You are all right there." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," replied the man, effusively. " My card, 
 sir ; may be useful to you some day. Let me ask you to make 
 use of my services," and he slipped a greasy pasteboard into 
 Ralph's hand, who, although busy with the reins, was able to 
 give his dirty fingers an awful squeeze as if by accident. Ralph 
 apologised humbly. " So beastly dark," he remarked. 
 
 "It is, indeed," said the cockney ; "and it seems a very lono- 
 way. They told me it was only a mile and a-half. Are you sure 
 you are right '? " 
 
 " Right," laughed Ralph ; " of course I am. Country miles 
 are very long, you know, but we are not far off now." 
 
 They were fringing the edge of Wortlebur}-- Heath, no less 
 than five miles from the station. This common is notoriously 
 full of the most awful bog-holes. Li five minutes more Ralph 
 pulled up at a point where the road divided. 
 
 "'Now," he said to the stranger, "do you see that light 
 
32 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 there '?" pointing to one glimmering out of a distant cottage far 
 across the heath to the left. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, go for that as straight as j'ou can. It is only a 
 quarter of a mile, though it looks further. Gootl-night, and good 
 luck to you." 
 
 With these words he touched up Kitty and was off up the 
 turning at twelve miles an hour. 
 
 The limh of the law walked straight on for ten yards, and then 
 stumbled over some heather. Then he walked on again, and was 
 brought up short by a furze bush. Having coasted round this, he 
 found the ground falling rapidly, and lost sight of his beacon. 
 He struggled on, however, through heather and gorse, till he 
 was stopped by a new obstacle — soft ground. Then came some 
 big stones and softer ground still. In five minutes more he was 
 up to his waist in the deepest bog-hole on Wortlebury Heath, 
 struggling in vain to gain a firm footing, and without the 
 slightest notion of his whereabouts, nor even whether he should 
 ever get out again. It began to rain, and rained harder. What 
 with rain, and the darkness, and the bog, the stranger from 
 London rather regretted having come down to seize Mr. Ealph' 
 Branscombe's goods and chattels. 
 
CIIAPTEE V. 
 
 MR. THROGMORTON TOMS. 
 
 lANA'S invitation to the Hall 
 was too cordial for Kali^h 
 to neglect. Every kind 
 word from her warmed 
 him like a ray of sun- 
 shine ; and, besides, he 
 was not likely to miss 
 an opportunity of observ- 
 ing how Colonel Manncr- 
 ing conducted himself 
 towards his cousin at 
 home, having already 
 satisfied himself that he 
 was a little too intimate 
 with her abroad. Ralph 
 reached the Hall shortly before the dinner hour, and handing 
 his coat to the old butler, who had known him ever since he 
 was a baby, he asked : 
 
 " Is there anyone else here, Pringle ? " 
 
 " There's Mr. and Mrs. Toms, sir," replied Pringle, " and the 
 Colonel, in course." 
 
 This was by no means good news for Ralph, nor did he like 
 the way in which the man assumed the Colonel's presence to be 
 a matter of course. 
 
 " Confound it," thought he, "I wish that little beast Toms were 
 
 not here. I suppose my uncle brought him down this afternoon." 
 
 Passing into the drawing room, Ralph was received by Mrs. 
 
 Gore, a woman who must have been very handsome when she 
 
 was young. Her profile was finely cut, and tliough her cheeks 
 
34 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 were -worn, yet tlie outline of lier face was still decidedly attrac- 
 tive. She performed tlie functions of companion and chaperone to 
 Diana, and was dressed in careful conformity with those func- 
 tions, without, however, the slightest assumption of mock 
 humility. Her black silk dress was handsome and substantial, and 
 her toilette all that could be expected from a lady moving in the 
 best society, but who had already arrived at years of discretion. 
 
 Mrs. Gore received Ealph very politely, and in answer to his 
 enquiry about Sir Henry replied — 
 
 "I am afraid he is not so well as I should like to see him. 
 Sir Henry seems to have become unusually nervous and fidgety 
 of late. He has been too busy in London, and we are very glad 
 to get him down here for a few days' quiet. He is not even so 
 keen on hunting as usual." 
 
 *' Will he go out to-morrow ?" asked Ralph. 
 
 ** Diana hopes so," answered Mrs. Gore. " We both think it 
 would do him a great deal of good." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Toms walked in. This gentleman might 
 be of any age between thirty and fifty. His face was rosy with 
 the rosiuess of an overfed baby, and his bright complexion did 
 not conceal the many small lines time had furrowed on his cheeks 
 and temples. A few stray hairs of a colour between grey and 
 sandy were dignified by himself and his wife with the name oi 
 whiskers. His head was extremely neat, and his enemies swore 
 that he wore a wig. But no wig maker could possibly have 
 contrived a head gear of so peculiar a neutral tint as Mr. Toms' 
 hair. It was parted down the middle, and carefully plastered on 
 each side, but its colour, or rather entire want of colour, betrayed 
 the age of the wearer notwithstanding his general assumption of 
 youthfulness. Mr. Throgmorton Toms had a small round nose, 
 long narrow eyes, eyebrows scarcely visible, and a round mouth 
 which seemed to be constantly protesting and apologising silently. 
 His chin was also round, and might have been almost pretty in 
 a young boy. But it gave Mr. Toms an appearance of youth 
 and greenness which was scarcely consistent with his hair and 
 forehead. Altogether Mr. Toms might by a casual observer have 
 
MR. THROGMORTON TOMS. 35 
 
 "been taken for a good-natured fool, and it was whispered that he 
 rather Hked to be considered silly and green by some persons. 
 But he belonged to the class of people who are by no means such 
 fools as they look, and the fnrtive glances from his narrow slits 
 of eyes occasionally betrayed to the acute observer that Mr. 
 Toms (we beg his pardon — Mr. Throgmortou Toms) was watching 
 very closely the features of those with whom he Avas speaking, 
 and that he was not unobservant of what was going on around 
 him. By profession Mr. Throgmorton Toms was a " City man," 
 and acted as Sir Henry's agent and broker in many transactions. 
 He had married a distant relative of the Branscombe family, and 
 had for years worked, not unsuccessfully, to obtain as large a 
 share as he could of Sir Henry's confidence and business. It 
 was therefore, natural to find Mr. Toms at the Hall, and yet 
 Halph was peculiarly irritated at meeting him there to-night. 
 
 " How do ? " said Mr. Throgmorton Toms, patronisingly 
 extending two fingers to Kalph. " You here ? " as though it 
 was a most extraordinary circumstance that our hero should be 
 found at his uncle's country house. 
 
 Ralph gave the little man one finger less than he had received 
 from him. 
 
 "Your uncle is not very well," went on Mr. Toms. " I am 
 getting quite anxious about him." 
 
 Now there was nothing in these words to grate on Ralph's 
 nerves, yet the tone in which they were said was most annoying 
 to him. Mr. Toms' manner implied that he, Throgmorton 
 Toms, had a special right and privilege to be anxious about Sir 
 Henry — to be always with him, to take care of his health, and to 
 exclude disturbing causes. Nor was our hero quite wrong in his 
 opinion, for Mr. Toms went on, pursing up his little mouth : 
 
 " Have you come over to see your uncle on business, or only 
 to dine ? You must not bother him about business, you know. 
 He is very nervous just now." 
 
 "I think I know when the time to speak to my uncle is con- 
 venient, or otherwise," answered Ralph, much hufted. 
 
 "No doubt, no doubt," murmured Mr. Toms, apologetically. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 " No doubt. But you see we have been so much with him hitely, 
 and we look upon him quite as a father." 
 
 " Indeed," said Ealph, coldly, not particularly pleased at the 
 suggestion. However, he had no time to make any further 
 remarks, as Mrs. Toms and Diana sailed into the room together. 
 The former was a stylish-looking woman, extremely well-dressed, 
 whose age, like that of her husband, was somewhat uncertain. 
 She was a head taller than he was, and would have had a fine 
 figure if it had been a little fuller. Her Parisian dressmaker 
 had, however, done her best to make up for the deficiencies of 
 Nature. Mrs. Toms had light-brown hair tending towards grey, 
 somewhat projecting cheek bones, a sharp retrousse nose, small 
 greenish eyes, and a narrow and high forehead. ' Although 
 therefore, her face was by no means attractive, yet her dress, 
 and what her friends termed her excellent style and her imposing 
 figure, made her look like what used to be called in the last 
 century " a fine woman, a very fine woman, sir ! " Mrs. Toms 
 moved in the very best circles of society, a fact of which she left 
 no one in ignorance if she could help it. Sir Henry Branscombe 
 and his household were just about good enough for her, because 
 her husband found the old gentleman useful, but it may be 
 doubted whether, if Sir Henry had been a man of moderate 
 means, Mrs. Throgmorton Toms would have condescended to 
 visit the Hall. "With Diana she w'as on excellent terms, and 
 made herself as agreeable to the young lady as was possible. 
 She had got her arm afi'ectionately clasped round Diana wdieu 
 they entered the room, and she greeted Ralph with a kind con- 
 descension not unmixed with a certain hauteur. He had formerly 
 been a great favourite with her, but for some reason or other, 
 probably best known to Mrs. Toms herself, he had for the last 
 twelve months been distinctly cold-shouldered. He was no 
 longer asked to the little recherche parties in Chesham Place, of 
 which Mrs. Toms Avas so proud, and the lady now assumed a 
 patronising tone towards him, which was very different from her 
 former friendliness. Scarcely interrupting her conversation with 
 Diana, she said — 
 
MR. THROGMOETOX TOMS. 37 
 
 " How do you do, Kalph ? Sorry to hear bad news of you ; " 
 an observation which made our hero bkish violently. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he said. 
 
 "Oh, never mind; of course I ought not to have said any- 
 thing about it," answered Mrs. Toms, composedly. 
 
 And it was impossible for Ralph to enquire further, as Sir 
 Henry himself and Colonel Mannering at that moment joined the 
 party. Sir Henry Branscombe was about sixty years of age. A 
 year or two back he might have sat for the ideal English gentle- 
 man. His strong and almost rugged features were tempered 
 by a kindly smile and pleasant glances from large blue eyes. 
 His chin was shaven and his face bordered by a pair of old- 
 fashioned whiskers, of which the bright grey suited his ruddy 
 complexion. But now Ralph noticed at once that his complexion 
 looked less ruddy, that his eyes were not so frankly open, and 
 that he stooped more than usual in walking. He extended his 
 hand to Ralph, but merely said, " Glad to see you, my boy," and 
 then proceeded to the fireplace, where he stood looking into the 
 fire with his right arm on the mantelpiece, and a foot on the 
 fender. Colonel Mannering having nodded to Ralph, at once 
 began talking of music and theatres to Mrs. Throgmorton Toms. 
 It turned out of course that they had many mutual acquaint- 
 ances, and before dinner was announced they appeared to be fast 
 friends. Sir Henry gave his arm to Mrs. Toms, Colonel Man- 
 nering took in Diana without being asked to do so, and Mr. 
 Throgmorton Toms of course had to be satisfied with Mrs. Gore, 
 Ralph followed them into the noble dining room, where he sat 
 down between Mrs. Gore and Diana, who had the Colonel on her 
 right hand. During dinner, Ralph more than once puzzled over 
 Mrs. Toms's mysterious remark, and wondered what on earth 
 she meant by it, and meantime came to the conclusion that she 
 had intended to be rude and disagreeable. He was altogether 
 much preoccupied. Colonel Mannering's light and pleasant 
 chatter about Afghanistan, where he had been attached to the 
 staff, about the last new play, Brighton, mutual friends, and 
 almost every other subject which could supply conversation in 
 
38 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 town, kept the whole table more or less amused, but failed to 
 interest our hero. He was too anxiously watching Colonel 
 Mannering's behaviour to his cousin, and too nervous about the 
 interview which he felt he must necessarily have with his uncle 
 next day. The Guardsman, however, gave him no cause for 
 anxiety by his conduct. His conversation was perfectly general, 
 and only once or twice did he address himself to Diana, and 
 even then what he said might have been heard by the whole 
 room. Ealph was fain to confess that he talked quite as well as 
 he looked, and that such a rival could not but be dangerous 
 in the extreme. For the present, Ralph was not in the field at 
 all and would have been very much surprised if anybody had 
 told him that he was in love with his cousin. In fact he would 
 have contradicted such an assertion flatly. He pretended to 
 himself that he only took a cousinly interest in her doings, and 
 did not wish her to flirt audaciously with everybody. Unfortu- 
 nately he had had much cause of complaint on this score, poor 
 Diana having been rather careless as to what might be said or 
 thought about her. ^lany a time and oft had Ealph been made 
 miserable by seeing women whisper when her name was men- 
 tioned, and finding men even in so public a resort as the 
 Warboro' Club stop in the middle of their conversation if 
 he entered the room. Occasionally he could not avoid over- 
 hearing some remark or other similar to the one which had 
 shocked him on the previous evening. Whether his sensi- 
 tiveness to such observations was owing to cousinly aff"ectiorL 
 only, may be doubted. At any rate no other form of aftection 
 had so far been admitted by himself or suggested by anyone 
 else. 
 
 When the ladies retired after dinner, Colonel Mannering con- 
 tinued the conversation on Arabs and Arab horses which he had 
 begun with Sir Henry. The latter was much interested in the 
 soldier's lively but unobtrusive account of his exploits on the 
 racecourse, and even Ealph was tempted to listen. Mr. Throg- 
 moi-ton Toms, however, drew his chair up to our hero, and began 
 in a confidential tone, 
 
MR. THROGMORTON TOMS. 39 
 
 ** I am sorry you have got into such a mess, my clear Ptalpli." 
 
 ** What do yoii mean ? " asked he, angrily. 
 
 " Oh, don't he angry," Mr. Toms went on, pursmg up his 
 little mouth. "It's no use. People cannot help hearing of 
 things, you know. How will you manage with your City people 
 if anything comes out ? " 
 
 "If what comes out?" asked Ralph sharply, determined at 
 least to find out how much Mr. Toms knew. 
 
 "Why, all these debts and writs and judgments and things," 
 answered that gentleman. " It would not look well for a bailiff 
 to walk into Brown, Holland & Co.'s office, would it ? Bad, 
 very bad," he sighed. 
 
 " How do youiknow ? It is all nonsense," burst out Ealph, 
 inconsistently. ^ 
 
 " Oh, -very well," remarked Mr. Toms, " if it is all nonsense, 
 of course I have got nothing more to say, but I thought I might 
 be of some use." 
 
 " How could you ? " Ralph asked. 
 
 " Welly you know," said Toms, " there are all sorts of ways of 
 getting out of a scrape if you have a few friends, but of course if 
 you are not in a scrape there is no occasion for any assistance." 
 
 "Indeed," said Ralph piteously, and driven to bay, "I admit 
 I am in an awful mess; but you cannot find a thousand pounds 
 for me, can you ? " 
 
 Mr. Throgmorton Toms was almost frightened out of his 
 propriety. "No, Ralph," said he, "I cannot. It is a large 
 sum. But you might be able to make even that amount in the 
 City if you knew how." 
 
 " Perhaps I might," said Ralph, " but I have nobody to show 
 me how. Besides, I cannot wait." 
 
 " I suppose you have come over to see your uncle about this," 
 continued Mr. Toms. 
 
 " I must say that I was anxious to speak to him on the sub- 
 ject," admitted Ralph. 
 
 "You must not," Mr. Toms asseverated, solemnly; "indeed 
 you must not. He is so nervous and ill just now that any 
 
40 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 request of that sort is sure to make him a great deal worse. He 
 vdll probably refuse it and be very augry, and it would injure liis 
 health much. You must find some other way. But hush, we 
 will talk by-and-by." 
 
 In the drawing-room Colonel^ Manncring exhibited another 
 talent. He possessed a soft if not a strong tenor voice, and he 
 and Diana sang duets together. He stooped over the piano and 
 turned over the leaves of music, and altogether they spent so 
 much time close to each other, that Ralph became perfectly 
 furious, and almost forgot the worry about his debts in the new 
 worry about his cousin. Nor did Mrs. Throgmorton Toms 
 improve his temper by remarking, 
 
 "What a very lovely voice Colonel Mannering has ! What a 
 charming man he is altogether ! Quite delightful I call him. 
 I have asked him to come and see me in Chesham Place as soon 
 as we get back to town. Is not he nice ? " she asked, turning to 
 Ralph. 
 
 This was too much. Our hero was quite relieved to be able 
 to retreat into a corner and resume his conversation with Mr. 
 Throgmorton Toms, which he was able to do under cover of the 
 music. 
 
 " I think I can assist you, Ralph," proceeded that gentleman, 
 " if you can manage with a hundred or so for a little while. But 
 I beg you, my dear fellow, as you value your uncle's health, don't 
 worry him just now. I am afraid," continued he, " that 
 any step of the sort you mention might be most serious, 
 and I am too fond of this kind and good man to allow him to 
 be injured if I can help it. I would sooner make the sacrifice 
 myself." 
 
 With these words he wiped away a tear which was supposed 
 to be rolling down his rosy cheek. 
 
 " Why should you help me ? " asked Ralph. 
 
 " I have told you why. To save your uncle anxiety. And I 
 might put you in the way of earning a good round sum before 
 long." 
 
 " I should be very glad of the chance, but a hundred is no 
 
MR. THROGMORTON TOMS. 41 
 
 use," answered Ralph. " Perhaps I could manage to keep my 
 people quiet with two hundred." 
 
 " Very well, my dear boy, I will lend you two hundred pounds 
 for the present," said Mr. Throgmorton Toms, aftectionately 
 squeezing Ralph's hand. *' Only not a word of this to your 
 uncle." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you," said Ralph, surprised at 
 Mr. Toms's offer of assistance, although by no means sure that 
 his reasons and emotion were genuine. " Of course I should 
 not say a word about it." 
 
 "Hounds meet close here to-morrow," said Mr. Toms. "I 
 suppose Sir Henry will give you a mount." 
 
 " Well," replied Ralph, " I was thinking of going up to town, 
 I have only got three days' leave." 
 
 *' Quite right, quite right," replied the little man. " Come 
 into the library before you go, and we will settle that little 
 matter at once." 
 
 When half-an-hour afterwards Ralph looked into the library 
 he found Mr. Throgmorton Toms waiting for him. 
 
 " Here is a cheque," he said, " and of course you will just 
 sign this acknowledgment as a matter of form. Put your name 
 here." 
 
 " * I promise to pay on demand,' " asked Ralph with some 
 surprise. " Is not that rather rough ? " 
 
 " Well, my dear fellow, suppose I died, I must have some sort 
 of acknowledgment, you know. Of course I shall not enforce pay- 
 ment. Is it likely ? " 
 
 Ralph signed without further objection, shook hands, and took 
 his leave. Riding home he felt somewhat relieved, but still 
 with a heavy heart, for though he might be able to stave off his 
 creditors he was not able to stave off thoughts of his cousin and 
 Colonel Mannering. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SIR HENEY GOES HUNTING. 
 
 ONE in Banksliire had been 
 a more enthusiastic sup- 
 porter of the hounds than 
 Sir Henry Branscombe. 
 When he came into the 
 property the Hunt was 
 almost on its last legs, 
 and it was doubtful 
 whether it could be car- 
 ried on for another season. 
 Subscriptions were falling 
 off, foxes were scarce in 
 consequence of the enor- 
 mous increase of shooting, 
 and sport was indifferent. 
 Sir Henry's father had not been much of a hunting man. His 
 summers were divided between Newmarket, Ascot, and Good- 
 wood, and his winters mostly spent iir Paris. In fact he was 
 almost an absentee landlord. His subscription to the hounds 
 was small, and mostly in arrears. But when Sir Henry inherited 
 the property things at once changed for the better. After the 
 necessary retrenchments and economies had been carried on for 
 a few years, during which the new owner paid flying but frequent 
 visits to Branscombe Hall, he had made sufficient money in the 
 City to spend a little on his estate. A better era then com- 
 menced. Sir Henry installed himself on a moderate but 
 comfortable scale, and at once enlisted the sympathies of all 
 fox-hunters by announcing his intention of subscribing two 
 hundred guineas towards the almost exhausted funds of the 
 
SIR HENRY GOES HUNTING. 43. 
 
 hunt. His keepers were informed that if there were no foxes in 
 the coverts they would be at once dismissed, and it was not. 
 long before Sir Henry had occasion to put this threat into 
 execution. Although his neighbours on both sides persistently 
 maintained that it was impossible to have foxes and pheasants 
 both, none of them could resist the example set them by Sir 
 Henry Brauscombe. When they heard how invariably foxes 
 were found in the Branscombe coverts, how often a fox from 
 them gave a good run, and how pleased the farmers were to have 
 a landlord of such a stamp : when they saw that Sir Henry's 
 popularity grew almost in direct proportion to the number of 
 foxes killed yearly from his coverts, and when they discovered 
 that notwithstanding his fondness for hunting, shooting 
 friends from Loudon came down in September and October 
 and declared that there were no better mixed days than those 
 from Branscombe Hall, they began to perceive that Sir Henry 
 might be right, and that it might be possible to invite men 
 down for big shoots without warning hounds off their estates or 
 allowing them to draw all the woods blank. Gradually the 
 Bankshire Hounds acquired a certain reputation. Sir Henry 
 gave himself a very great deal of trouble to assist the Master in 
 obtaining the best drafts from the Badminton and other cele- 
 brated kennels. He was always ready with his help, whether in 
 the shape of money, advice, or active intervention. He was 
 the more fond of hunting that short sight prevented his joining 
 shooting parties with any satisfactory result. Being a bad shot, 
 and knowing that he could not improve, he soon gave up carrying 
 the gun, and stumped along with his friends, watching their 
 prowess, and beating the turnips with a big stick. On such 
 occasions Sir Henry frequently left the party while they were 
 walking a turnip-field to go and have a chat with a farmer and 
 see how he was keeping his land, or to pay a visit to a tenant's, 
 wife to enquire after the poultry, to pat the rosy-cheeked children 
 on the head, and to leave them with sundry tips of shillings and 
 sixpences. These afternoon visits were useful in two respects — 
 they increased his popularity enormously, and at the same time 
 
44 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 enabled liim to know exactly what each of his tenants was doing. 
 He listened with extraordinary patience to a long tale of misery 
 from some overworked woman, how her children had fallen sick 
 one after the other, how she had lost her favourite cow, how the 
 good man could not pay his rent, and how the apparent neglect 
 of the nine- acre field was owing to insufficiency of stock. Sir 
 Henry would listen to such a story, gazing vacantly into the 
 fire. He would go away, leaving .the poor woman under the 
 impression that he had not heard her tale, or, if he had, that he 
 took no interest in it. But it invariably happened that matters 
 were enquired into. Sir Henry was a strictly just man, and it 
 was seldom that a mere pitiful story of distress moved him to 
 immediate generosity. He would first find out whether the man 
 and his wife had done all they could to keep their heads above 
 water. If not, if they turned out on enquiry to be undesirable 
 tenants, Sir Henry, who never granted leases, Avould immediately 
 serve them with a notice, and follow this notice up with a visit. 
 He would advise them how to set to work, would assist with 
 seed, a little money, or even with a gift of a cow. But if his 
 advice and help proved useless the careless tenant might be sure 
 to be turned out of his farm when the notice had expired. On 
 the other hand, when farmers had fallen into undeserved mis- 
 fortune. Sir Henry would help them in every possible way, and 
 not one of those who had done their best would ever receive 
 notice to quit. His manner was always reserved and apparently 
 abstracted. His acts, however, showed that the welfare of his 
 tenants was a matter of as great importance to him as the improve- 
 ment of his estate. Sir Henry was in his earlier years a very hard 
 rider. When his fortune increased as he grew older he devoted 
 much care and money to his stables and to his horses. About 
 the latter he was curiously fidgety for a man of large means and 
 large income. He placed infinite confidence in his stud groom 
 Boulter, who had been with him for more than twenty years, 
 and had risen from being helper when there were only two horses 
 in the stable to his present position as manager of twenty. 
 Boulter had been a good helper and a capital groom, but as 
 
sill HENllY GOES HUXTIXG. 45 
 
 master of the horse Boulter was not in the right place. It is 
 true that Sir Henry's horses were always in good condition, and 
 that he never allowed his master to buy a bad one. But on the 
 other hand, Sir Henry had to pay a great deal too much for a 
 good one. James Boulter found out that Sir Henry Branscombe 
 was now no longer so particular as to details as he used to be, 
 that he did not as of yore spend a couple of hours daily In the 
 stables, that the accounts for oats, straw, or stable requisites 
 were no longer scrutinised as they formerly were, and that as 
 money became more plentiful with Sir Henry so did his conduct 
 towards Boulter become easier and more lavish. Now it cannot 
 be denied that Boulter took every advantage of this circumstance. 
 There was a story on the subject which could not be told in Sir 
 Henry's presence without arousing the worthy baronet's anger. It 
 was as follows. Once upon a time Pialph had a quiet handy hunter 
 whom he had picked up for fifty pounds at a sale of coach horses. 
 In Ptalph's hands the horse improved very much, and on one 
 occasion when hunting with the Blaukshire Sir Henry had been 
 particularly pleased with the animal's quiet manners, combined 
 as they were with excellent jumping and good speed. He praised 
 the horse highly, and Ralph, who was an extremely good- 
 natured fellow, and always glad if he could please his uncle, and 
 thus make some slight return for the kindness he had received 
 from him, at once offered to give up the horse to Sir Henry at 
 the price he paid for it — far below its real value. The old 
 gentleman was rather pleased with the offer, and got on the 
 horse for a few minutes to see how he liked his paces. 
 
 " Well, Ptalph," he said when he got off at his door, " I think 
 I like the horse, and I will take him, but first Boulter must have 
 a look at him." 
 
 Now Ralph was no great friend of Boulter's, because the 
 young man did not think it necessary to tip him largely when- 
 ever he rode one of his uncle's horses, which, by the by, was not 
 of very frequent occurrence, as Sir Henry had an idea, fostered by 
 Boulter, that anyone but himself would spoil their mouths. So 
 when the stud groom had examined the horse, he reported to his 
 
46 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 master as follows : *' Horse won't suit you, Sir Henry. He aint 
 what I call a safe horse. Might come down on the road with 
 you any day, Sir Henry. Would not undertake the responsibility 
 of recommending you to buy him, Sir Henry." On which the 
 baronet, with a sigh of regret, for really no horse had pleased 
 him so well as this one of Ealph's, abandoned the idea. Shortly 
 afterwards Pialph suffered from one of his recurrent periods of 
 impecuniosity, and a London dealer having seen the horse out 
 with a well-loiown pack of stag-hounds offered him a hundred 
 for it, which he at once accepted. Sir Henry was still on the 
 look out for a comfortable animal to carry him, and Boulter 
 visited this dealer's stables. Soon he informed his master that 
 ]\Ir. Bedford had just the very horse to suit him, Sir Henry 
 offered Mr. Bedford his usual terms, namely, ten pounds and all 
 expenses from London to Branscombe Hall and back, including 
 an insurance ticket, for a week's trial. Sir Henry was so good a 
 customer that no dealer in London would have declined terms 
 even less liberal. So Mr. Bedford's horse was installed at 
 Branscombe Hall, and Sir Henry rode him once to hounds, 
 besides hacking him two or three times. He was delighted with 
 the animal. He had not had such a nice mount since he tried 
 his nephew's, some time back. What was the price ? Two 
 hundred. Sir Henry thought this a good deal, but the horse 
 suited him so well that he signed a cheque without any hesitation. 
 
 Pialph was almost disinherited on the spot and expelled from 
 the Hall when, a few weeks afterwards, he naively remarked to 
 his uncle : 
 
 '' Why, uncle, you have bought my Prince Adam after all. 
 Bid you get him from Bedford ? " 
 
 Sir Henry told his nephew that he was mistaken, that the 
 horse was much bigger than Prince Adam, had better fore legs, 
 was of a lighter colour, and quite a different horse altogether. 
 Balph being still incredulous, he sent for Boulter, who swore it 
 was not the same horse at all, and told a fictitious history of 
 the new purchase's antecedents. When Pialph still persisted. 
 Sir Henry became very angry, and serious consequences might 
 
SIR HENKY GOES HUNTING. 47 
 
 liave ensued if the young man bad not at the eleventh hour 
 pretended to be convinced of bis own mistake. The okl gentle- 
 man, however, must have bad some latent suspicion that be bad 
 been done, for it was quite sufficient to mention the name of 
 Prince Adam for him to become morose and sulky ; while a wag 
 ■U'bo bad beard the story from Ralph and chaffed the baronet 
 about having bought bis nephew's horse back at four times the 
 price originally asked, was ordered out of the bouse on the spot. 
 James bad a history, if not a pedigree, for every animal in the 
 stable, and Prince Adam was known at Branscombo Hall as 
 *' Peterborough," as he was supposed to have come from the 
 stud of the earl of that name. 
 
 On the morning after Ralph's visit. Sir Henry sallied forth on 
 Peterborough, accompanied by Diana, Colonel ]\Iannering, and 
 Mr. Tbrogmorton Toms. Colonel Mannering was mounted on a 
 Hack mare, an old favourite of Sir Henry's, who rejoiced in the 
 name of Black Swan. Mr. Tbrogmorton Toms rode a cob, for 
 lie was only going, be said, to " see bounds throw off," as he was 
 not much of a rider, and did not care about jumping. The cob 
 ambled along very pleasantly, while Mr. Tbrogmorton Toms enter- 
 tained Sir Henry with a long and not uninteresting account of 
 liis doings in the City, operations in sundry Transatlantic stock, 
 prospects of various railway companies, electric light swindles, 
 and similar topics. Colonel Mannering rode behind with Diana. 
 The meet was only a couple of miles from the Hall, and it was 
 proposed to draw Sir Henry's outlying coverts. The party was 
 accompanied by two grooms, quite as well mounted as the rest. 
 One was Sir Henry's special attendant ; the other rode a second 
 borse. The old gentleman was generally much interested in Mr. 
 Tbrogmorton Toms' s City anecdotes, but to-day he looked ner- 
 Tously over his shoulder more than once. His anxiety might 
 have been ascribed to the circumstance that Colonel Mannering 
 was in close conversation with his niece. The b}^3othesis, bow- 
 ever, would have been a wrong one, for soon Sir Henry pulled 
 up and beckoned to the guardsman. 
 
 *' I wish you would ride with me a little," be said. " Black 
 
48 FAir. DIANA. 
 
 Swan seems to fidget very much. Cannot you make licr 
 walk?" 
 
 The guardsman was a good rider, but somehow he did not 
 seem able to prevent the black mare from tearing at the bridle, 
 throwing her head up, and occasionally even plunging. Sir 
 Henry watched him for some time. 
 
 " Don't hold her so much on the curb," he remarked. 
 
 The Colonel obeyed, when the mare immediately started off 
 at a furious gallop, and was checked only by the use of the bit, 
 which Sir Henry had condemned. 
 
 " I am afi'aid you cannot do without it, Mannering," said Sir 
 Henry. " I can." 
 
 The Colonel smiled rather superciliously. "Fancy the old 
 gentleman thinking he can hold a horse better than I can," he 
 said to himself ; but he tried to reduce the mare to submission, 
 and succeeded only in causing her to jump along the road in a 
 series of bucks. 
 
 " This won't do," Sir Henry said. " The mare's mouth will 
 be altogether spoiled," and he hailed one of his grooms. 
 
 "We will change horses. Colonel Mannering," he said. 
 
 Sir Henry got off Peterborough and was helped on to Black 
 Swan. The second horseman took Peterborough, and the 
 Colonel was mounted on Sir Henry's second string. After a 
 few bucks Black Swan subsided into a walk. Colonel Mannering 
 could hardly believe his eyes. The mare whom he had not been 
 able to control, notwithstanding all his experience, was now 
 perfectly amenable to the snaffle alone. 
 
 ** What wonderful hands you must have, Sir Henry," he said. 
 
 " Yes," replied Sir Henry, whom the remark restored to his 
 usual good temper ; " they say I have got good hands. They 
 will all of them go Avith me when they won't go with others. 
 That is why I don't like people to ride my horses if I can help 
 it. That question of hands is a very curious one. Some people 
 ride all their lives, ride all sorts of horses under all circum- 
 stances, and never acquire the touch which others of half the 
 experience seem to possess almost mstinctively. No lessons 
 
SIR HEXIIY GOES IIUXTIXG. 49 
 
 will teach a man to liayc good haiitls. i\Iany horses are sold 
 by then- owners because they refuse, or because they pull 
 so hard, or because they fidget. The animal goes at a com- 
 paratively low figure because he has been seen stopping at 
 some small hedge or pulling his rider's arms off in a run, or 
 bucking and plunging at the covert side. The owner is glad to 
 get rid of him with the loss of half the money he gave ; and, 
 hearing that the purchaser hunts in the same country, looks 
 out for him at the next meet. He is much surprised to find his 
 wild and fidgety horse perfectly quiet, patiently waiting for the 
 cry of ' Tally ho ! Gone away ! ' He watches his performance 
 with some curiosity, ' For,' says he to himself, or even perhaps 
 to his friends, ' Smith is all very well, but he is not the man to 
 make that horse jump. Why, I could not, and everybody know'S 
 that I can ride a good deal straighter than Smith.' So, perhaps, 
 he can; but, when he lies behind and watches Smith's per- 
 formance, his surprise is still greater at seeing the horse take a 
 post and rails without the slightest hesitation, and never even 
 stop to look at a wide ditch full of water which a fortnight ago 
 would have prevented him going any further on that day. Smith 
 does it with his hands. He cannot explain it himself, but the 
 fact remains. He can keep his horse quiet when necessary, and 
 make him go when required without any trouble, with but little 
 use of the curb, and none of spur, while the former owner, good 
 rider though he might be, was quite unable to make the horse 
 stop when he wanted it to, or go when he was determined to stop." 
 
 Just then the party arrived at the meet, and more hats were 
 removed to greet the worthy baronet than if he had been the 
 Master himself. Sir Henry's subscription was now five hundred 
 guineas, and all knew that he was the mainstay of the hunt. 
 They had met, too, on his land, and were going to draw his 
 coverts — all reasons for greeting him with substantial warmth. 
 
 " Sir Henry does not look quite so well as usual," said young 
 Paull to Dr. Quayle. 
 
 "No," said the Doctor. " He stoops more than ever, and I 
 don't like his complexion." 
 
 B 
 
50 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 ** I am main glad to see Sir Henry out again," said Snow, his 
 largest tenant ; " but I do wish he looked a bit heartier." 
 
 "I hope YOU are well, Sir Henry," said the Hon. Seaton 
 Delaval, advancing ; ** you look as if London work had been too 
 much for you." 
 
 *' I am not quite as well as I should like to be, Mr. Delaval, 
 thank you," answered Su* Henry. 
 
 ** Let us hope that a few good days with us will set you 
 up," said ^Ir. Shorthouse, the Master. 
 
 ** I am afraid I am beyond that," said Sir Henry, smiling 
 in a peculiar way. " What are you going to draw, Mr. 
 Shorthouse ? " 
 
 " Well, Sir Henry, whatever you think proper. What do you 
 say to beginning at Oak Grove, and then Avorking down through 
 the thin spinnies to Longwood? Then we shall be sure that we 
 shall not leave a fox behind us." 
 
 ** That will do," Su* Henry said, and they shortly all 
 moved on. 
 
 The functions of the special attendant were now apparent. 
 It was his business to open gates and make gaps for Sir Henry, 
 and very well he understood his business, too. The row of 
 bridle gates by Oak Grove and the spinnies had already been set 
 open, but when hounds began to Avork Longwood the field was 
 compelled to turn into the numerous rides which intersected it 
 for fear of hounds breaking on the opposite side, when pursuit 
 would have been hopeless, for Longwood was a veiy large covert, 
 and unless you stuck to hounds you had not a chance. It Avas 
 cut up into squares by a number of wattle fences, in all of which 
 gates had been provided by the owner of the soil. Here the 
 groom was invaluable, scampering along and holding the gate 
 open till Sir Henry's party had gone through, Avhen he would 
 hand it to some farmer and gallop on to the next gate, so that 
 Sir Henry never had to grope about with his hunting crop for a. 
 latch he was not able to see. Hounds were soon on their fox, 
 but it was much easier to find a fox in Longwood than to get 
 him away, and there were many scampers up and down the rides. 
 
a 
 
 Vt 
 
 :i 
 
 
 
 >> 
 o 
 03 
 
 
 
SIR HENRY GOES HUNTING. 51 
 
 before Reynard fairly faced the open. At last a cheery view 
 halloa brought the huntsman to the edge of the wood towards 
 Warborough, but Mr. Saintsbury Snuffbox, Mr. Seaton Delaval, 
 and young Paull were the first to cross the plough which sur- 
 rounded the wood. 
 
 " This way, Sir Henry," said various voices, all eager to help 
 the popular old gentleman out of the wood. " This way," and 
 the faithful attendant crashed through the fence, making a handy 
 gap for his master to follow — a gap not altogether unwelcome to 
 the rest of the field. 
 
 Black Swan flew over the plough at a pace worthy of her high 
 pedigree, but the light groom was at the far fence before her, and 
 had found a good place to give Sir Henry a lead. In the next 
 hedgerow hounds threw up, and Mr. Saintsbury Snufi'box, always 
 to the front, seized the opportunity of greeting the baronet. 
 
 **How are you, Sir Henry? Glad to see you out." 
 
 " How dare you speak to me, sir ? " said the baronet, flashing 
 an angry glance from his blue eyes at the little man. 
 
 *' What do you mean, Sir Henry ? " asked the other, alarmed. 
 
 *' Sir," said Sir Henry, " I understand that you occupy some 
 sort of situation with a scratch pack of dogs." 
 
 " I do not understand you, Sir Henry." 
 
 " I understand myself very well, sir. I believe that you and 
 your master's dogs and your rough riders come galloping over 
 my land, and trampling over my farmers' crops, and spoiling the 
 hedges without asking, ' with your leave or by your leave.' " 
 
 " I am afraid," replied Snufi'box, " that I have the honour to 
 be secretary to the Holborn Vale Staghounds, if that is what 
 displeases you. Sir Henry ? " 
 
 "Holborn Vale Staghounds, indeed," snorted Sir Henry, 
 "It is not a legitimate pack. You come down here, you bring 
 a wretched calf or a pig, or a deer, as you choose to call it, by a 
 van, and you turn him down and scamper after him without 
 caring whether you spoil what my farmers have earned in the 
 sweat of their brow, or who it belongs to. How dare you speak 
 to me, sir?" 
 
 £ 2 
 
52 FAiro DIANA. 
 
 " Yfe are alwaj's careful to get the farmer's leave first, and I 
 tliougbt, Sir Henry, that as you are a sportsman " 
 
 " Sportsman, so I am, and proud of it, but I would blush to 
 be seen with your pack. Do you call that sport ? I can tell 
 you that I don't. You had better not speak to me again. I 
 wonder you are not ashamed to show your face with a respectable 
 pack of hounds." 
 
 Almost a crowd had collected round while this dialogue was 
 going on. There were one or two murmurs of " Well-done, Sir 
 Henry, serve him right," but mostly from toadies. The majority, 
 seemed secretly rather to sympathise with the secretary of 
 the abused pack. There was no further time to give vent to 
 then* feelings, as the hounds picked up the scent again and 
 tore away over the pastures towards High Oaks. There was a 
 very pretty scamper of about a quarter of an hour when 
 hounds again checked and continued to feather near an old 
 quarry. 
 
 "Gone to earth in that hole," cried Sir Henry; but the 
 huntsman shook his head and made a cast over to the right. 
 The hounds could not own to anything, and after trying for some 
 minutes, the Master recalled them by his horn, and Sir Henry 
 exclaimed " The fox is in that hole, I tell you — I can smell him, 
 he is close by." 
 
 So indeed it proved ; the enthusiastic old sportsman was 
 perfectly correct, for the terrier having been brought up the fox 
 was soon driven out of his refuge, and went away again in full 
 view of the field, but doubled back and retreated to Longwood. 
 On the return, new ground was covered, and Colonel Mannering 
 having taken his cue, assisted Sir Henry's groom in making 
 gaps and easing the way for the old gentleman. This gradually 
 reconciled him to the Colonel's mismanagement of his favourite 
 Black Swan, but it was long before Sir Henry recovered his 
 wonted good humour, which had been rudely disturbed by 
 Saintsbury Snuffbox. 
 
 "Confound that fellow," repeated he; "fancy his daring to 
 speak to me, after the mischief those fellows have done. I should 
 
SIR .lEXRY GOES HUNTING. 53 
 
 liko to catch them on my estate again. I woukl summon every 
 one of them for trespass." 
 
 " I don't think you would, uncle," observed Diana ; " you are 
 always threatening people, but you seldom carry out the 
 threats." 
 
 " By Jove, I will this time though," exclaimed her uncle, as 
 they pulled up in one of the cross-roads in Longwood. *' Here, 
 Stokes ! " as a farmer approached. " Kemember, if any of these 
 Holborn Vale chaps come across your fields, take their names and 
 addresses, if they have got any." 
 
 "Yes, Sir Henry," replied Stokes, half smiling. 
 
 " And if they do any damage have a surveyor in next morning 
 and value it. I will pay his guinea and will sue them for it." 
 
 " Yes, Sir Henry," said Stokes, humbly. He was shrewdly 
 suspected of being the man who had given the Holborn Vale 
 what they call a "turn out" on the last occasion. 
 
 " And if you give one of those chaps a sound thrashing I will 
 see you through it, Stokes," the baronet went on. 
 
 " Thank you, Sir Henry," said Stokes, touching his hat. 
 
 "And mind, Stokes, tell your neighbours the same from me, 
 mind, from me. I will have a circular sent round to. all the 
 tenants. But hark ! they are on that fox again." 
 
 How it happened no one knows ; but the fact was that some- 
 how Sir Henry and Mr. Throgmorton Toms got back to the Hall 
 at four o'clock in the afternoon, having unaccountably lost Colonel 
 Manneriug and Diana. 
 
 The Colonel was a stranger to the country and hazy as to 
 localities. When he arrived with the young lady two hours 
 later, he explained their absence by describing the breaking 
 away of a fresh fox with only a few hounds behind him — 
 according to the Colonel's account no one else followed them 
 except a couple of farmer boys, as he contemptously termed 
 them. Diana listened to the explanation with a somewhat 
 heightened colour, and bolted to her room to change her dress 
 before she could be asked inconvement questions. 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 THE EEV. C. T. MUDBURY DAWSON. 
 
 .^^ 
 
 ]\IUST now return 
 to Miss Janet 
 Nettlerash, who 
 went on from 
 tlie rectory to 
 her friend, Mrs. 
 Dawson's. 
 
 The Rev. C. T. 
 Mudbury Dawson 
 had been edu- 
 cated at one of 
 the modern col- 
 leges which have 
 during the past thirty years, sprung up in the northern 
 counties of Great Britain — colleges which promise to give a 
 young man what is termed university training at a fourth of 
 the cost of Oxford or Cambridge. These institutions un- 
 doubtedly fulfil their promises as far as mere teaching is con- 
 cerned; their professors are intelligent and learned men, and 
 their alumni probably spend more time and devote more 
 attention to real study than do the majority of undergra- 
 duates of the old universities. But that is all. In education 
 as distinguished from instruction, these colleges are, unfor- 
 tunately, too often lamentably deficient. They turn out some 
 able scholars, but they fail in making a gentleman out of a raw 
 cub. The great majority of Oxonians or Cantabs bring " down " 
 with them a certain tone, a certain cultivation, and some little 
 knowledge of the world. Few, indeed, of the scholars of these 
 ^ mushroom universities possess these qualities ; scarcely one has 
 
THE REV. C. T. MUDBURY DAWSON. 55 
 
 acquired them at the college, even if he does possess them. Too 
 often the youths who leave the northern institution with the 
 magic letters B.A. after their names, are just as ignorant, just as 
 ill-mannered, and just as rough as they were when they went up ; 
 and though they may frequently succeed in the career in life they 
 have adopted, it is only hecause the rugged corners, which would 
 have been smoothed down at Oxford or Cambridge, are Imocked 
 off still more roughly by open competition in the larger arena 
 of Manchester, Liverpool, or London. 
 
 Many of these young men — in fact the majority — devote them- 
 selves to what are termed commercial pursuits ; others enter 
 the medical profession, some develope into explorers of science 
 and enthusiasts of literature. A very large contingent, however, 
 become preachers and teachers in the ranks of various sects of 
 Dissenters ; a very small number only entering the Established 
 Church. For a young man who is going into the Church, to go 
 to St. Andrews, or the Manchester University, would be justly 
 considered a very exceptional proceeding. The Eev. C. T. Mud- 
 bury Dawson was sent to one of these colleges from motives of 
 economy, nor had his parents decided that he should devote 
 his talents to the Church. But he felt a call to the pulpit 
 during his undergraduate career, and was ordained after he had 
 graduated and passed the necessary examinations. Some years 
 having been spent in a curacy in a remote Lincolnshire village, where 
 the eloquence which he thought that he possessed, and the readi- 
 ness he undoubtedly possessed, were neither of them appreciated 
 at their proper value, ]\Ir. Dawson was able to secure the chap- 
 laincy of one of our smaller and more distant colonial stations. 
 Here his gifts attracted the attention and the admiration of 
 the few female members of his congregation, and it was not long 
 before he became a favourite with all the ladies in the place. 
 Mr. Dawson was by no means anxious to marry, and preferred 
 remaining the pet of all to becoming the exclusive property of 
 one. But one lady — the eldest daughter of the chief official in the 
 station — was so persistent in her siege and so patient under 
 various rebuffs, that the chaplain at last led her to the hymeneal 
 
56 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 altar. She was neither young nor pretty ; but she possessed a 
 strong mil, a ready tongue, a certain grace of manner, and un* 
 doubted ability. As long as her father reiiiaiued in the station, 
 the Rev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson was looked up to and therefore 
 fairly contented ; for although he lost some influence among the 
 women, it was amply compensated by that which his wife gained 
 for him among the men. But when Mr. Poole resigned his 
 commissiouershii) and a new Pharaoh came who knew not the Rev. 
 C. T. Mudbury Dawson nor his wife, things altered for the worse. 
 Society at the station, so thought the chaplain, was becoming 
 decidedly frivolous ; new arrivals were even heard to call the 
 clergyman a bore and his wife a nuisance ; his eloquence failed 
 to command attention, and her tea parties failed in attracting 
 guests. Both felt that the Rev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson should 
 not waste the best years of his life and the power of his unrivalled 
 mind, in a small and distant colony. They therefore started for 
 England, reckoning on the influence of the ex-Commissioner and 
 that of other colonists who had been lavish in their promises of 
 help before leaving for the Old Country, to secure a good living 
 for a man of the talents and virtues of the Rev. C. T. Mudbury 
 Dawson. 
 
 When they reached London, they found that they had been 
 leaning on a broken reed. The ex-Commissioner had no 
 influence at all, and their old colonial friends gave them the cold 
 shoulder. Mr. Dawson, who had taken up elocution and English 
 as his hobbies, was, after living on his father-in-law for many 
 more months than the old gentleman liked, at last compelled to 
 take the appointment of English master at a third-rate London 
 school, stipulating only that he should be termed " Professor of 
 Elocution and of the English Language." His wife, however, 
 was far too ambitious to rest content with the miserable position 
 they had obtained after so much time and trouble ; and after 
 much thought she hit upon the notion of following, though 
 longo ijitervallo, in the wake of Miss Helen Taylor and Miss 
 Emily Faithfull. She decided upon giving lectures on woman's 
 rights, and when her early attempts in this direction had met 
 
THE EEV. C. T. MUDBURY DAWSON. 57 
 
 with sufficient success to warrant a bolder flight, she included in 
 her programme lectures against tobacco, against the Vaccination 
 Act, and against another law needless to specify, but which is 
 a favourite windmill for the less enlightened and less modest 
 of strong-minded women to tilt at. 
 
 Mrs. Dawson's mode of proceeding was simple and effective. 
 She had no difficulty in discovering the headquarters and 
 managers of the various leagues which took her subjects under 
 their especial protection. She placed herself at the disposal of 
 these enthusiastic persons and, in the first instance, offered to 
 deliver addresses in London without any remuneration. Impos- 
 ing in her appearance, gifted with remarkable powers of persua- 
 sion, and being willing to follow her patrons to any length of 
 absurdity, Mrs. Dawson had no difficulty in obtaining the 
 pri\-ilege she asked for, and she did not neglect the opportunity 
 of increasing her circle of acquaintance and introducing those of 
 her hearers who would consent, to her gifted husband. She felt 
 sure of herself and was therefore not in the least nervous even 
 when speaking for the first time before an extremely excited 
 audience in the north of London. She had had some little ex- 
 perience of the women of the less educated classes and was able 
 to prepare a lecture and to deliver it in a manner which struck 
 home. Her first attempt was in the cause of small pox as against 
 vaccination, and the graphic strength with which she dwelt on 
 the horrible complaints transmitted through the vaccine lymph 
 sent a succession of shudders through her audience. Figures, 
 compounded from statistics of doubtful authenticity, were handled 
 in so masterly a manner that they all told against vaccination ; 
 yet she had been careful that none of them was open to an 
 impromptu attack, and had provided herself with a goodly 
 array of authorities for all her statements. In fact, she had 
 " coached " the subject up thoroughly, and brought one side 
 of the question into the most vivid light. When, after the 
 audience had listened with almost unremitting attention for 
 upwards of an hour, Mrs. Dawson retired from the platform, 
 enthusiastic applause testified that the Anti-Vaccination Lea^-ue 
 
58 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 iad gained a powerful weapon, and numerous ladies stepped 
 forward to enlist her services for a future occasion. The male 
 members of the committee soon heard of the new lecturer, and 
 it was felt that Mrs. Dawson might he just as useful in address- 
 ing a mixed meeting as she had been with one confined to her 
 own sex. Eager demands were made on her time, but she was 
 perfectly honest with her patrons in this respect, that she at once 
 declared her inability to lecture in future unless paid for it : "I 
 am a poor struggling professor's wife," said she, " and I can't 
 afford to do it for nothing. But," she adds, " I believe so fully 
 in the Truth of The Cause, that I shall ask only a nominal 
 remuneration." Mrs. Dawson rapidly obtained a remuneration 
 which was soon more than nominal, and six months after the 
 Hev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson' had been appointed Professor of 
 the English Language and Elocution at the "North Central 
 Collegiate Institute," his wife was acknowledged to be one of the 
 best of the female speakers for Women's Rights, against Compul- 
 sory Vaccination, and on behalf of the Anti-Tobacco League. Mr. 
 Dawson had every reason to congratulate himself, as his income 
 ■was more than doubled by the lady's eloquence. She was not, 
 however, by any means satisfied. She took every opportunity of 
 thrusting forward her husband and introducing him to the 
 members of her various leagues as a man of genius, to whom 
 the opportunity of proving it had been denied by an envious fate 
 and false friends. She induced Mr. Dawson to agree to take 
 private pupils, if he could get them ; and she endeavoured to 
 persuade her friends to send their husbands, brothers, and sons 
 to take lessons in the English Language and Elocution from her 
 husband. In this endeavour she was only partially successful ; 
 and, looking about for another mode of increasing their means, 
 it struck her that if she could lecture, Mr. Dawson could do so 
 a fortiori, as he had preached once every Sunday almost con- 
 tinuously for twenty years. At any rate, nothing could be lost 
 by trying ; and the couple at once began preparing a lecture on 
 *' The English Language." She watched her chance, and had 
 not to wait long before she was able to induce some of her anti- 
 
THE REV. 0. T. MUDBUUY DAWSOX. 59 
 
 tobacco and anti-vaccination friends to form a committee for tlio 
 purpose of patronising the Rev. Mr. Dawson and introducing 
 liim to the pubHc. There are men and women to whom the 
 attraction of being on a committee at all is considerable ; if they 
 are also called " Patrons," and are seated on a platform while 
 some one lectures to the ot ttoWoC below, they are perfectly 
 liappy, and consider they have achieved greatness. To obtain 
 •such a position, several ladies and gentlemen of Canonbury and 
 the neighbourhood were willing to guarantee the cost of hiring 
 a hall, and of the printer's charge for five hundred large bills, on 
 which the Rev. Lecturer's numerous christian names w^ere 
 printed at full length and in large capitals. Mrs. Dawson, how- 
 ever, did more than merely obtain patrons and guarantors. She 
 wrote the greater portion of the lecture herself, and as she 
 ** Imew her public " better than her husband, she was careful to 
 spice it with a number of venerable jokes. In fact, to tell the 
 truth, she first put down all the good stories and jokes she could 
 remember or discover, and then connected those she considered 
 most appropriate by a mortar composed of paraphrases of Dr. 
 Angus's and Dean Trench's book. Mrs. Dawson felt that while 
 the function of a large, deep-voiced woman like herself was, 
 above all, to be earnest, her husband could well afford to be 
 funny, and being in holy orders, was likely to become a greater 
 celebrity if he were facetious than if he had been serious like 
 most of his cloth. The Rev. C. T. Mudbury Daw^son's appear- 
 ance lent itself well to the character his wife had selected for 
 him. He was very thin, and of medium height ; his long 
 foreign sojourn had deprived him of any colour his complexion 
 might once have possessed, and had reduced his skin to one 
 uniform dull yellow. His long face was made to look still 
 longer, because his forehead continued to the back of his head, 
 the reverend gentleman having lost all his hair except a small 
 grisly fringe from the one ear to the other. His chin and lips 
 were closely shaven, but he preserved a collar of gray stubble 
 round his neck, which made him resemble an old baboon. And 
 the resemblance was heightened by the size of his mouth, which 
 
60 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 had probably been stretched to its present huge limits by the con« 
 stant practice of his favourite elocution ; the rowing man's arms 
 increase, and the muscles stand out like whipcord : the legs of 
 the Alpine climber acquire strength and size ; in a similar way, 
 no doubt, constant speaking and shouting had enlarged Mr. 
 Dawson's mouth. His nose was small, and perfectly hemi- 
 spherical : you could not speak of the tip of the elocutionist's 
 nose, because it had not a tip ; if continuity of curvature be 
 an element of beauty, it was the most lovely nose in creation. 
 His eyes were round and large, but concealed by spectacles ; on 
 occasions, however, he removed his glasses and glared round with 
 much effect. 
 
 The Kev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson rehearsed his first lecture 
 several times before Mrs. Dawson was quite satisfied. She 
 instructed him to take off his spectacles and roll his eyes wildly 
 whenever he came to a funny story, and as he had not got a par- 
 ticularly good memory, nor much sense of humour, this part of 
 the performance was not easy to acquire. "With so good an 
 instructor, and under the distinguished patronage of the Canon- 
 bury grocers and their ladies, the lecture could not fail to be a 
 success, and it was not long before the Rev. C. T. Mudbury 
 Dawson undertook to repeat the address in another suburb, with- 
 out asking his friends to guarantee anything. For Mrs. Dawson 
 had the qualities which make great generals and great financiers 
 ■ — boldness and self-confidence. She knew when to strike, and 
 struck hard. As the Pentonville Advertiser noticed her hus- 
 band's lecture, and as several hundred sixpences were taken at 
 the doors, she determined in future that the hire of the hall and 
 all expenses should be found by herself alone, and that patrons 
 should only be asked to lend their names, and to attend on the 
 platform. Soon this courageous policy bore silver, if not golden " 
 fruit, and Mr. Dawson, who was extremely fond of a good 
 dinner, was gratified by the appearance on his table of delicacies 
 of which he had for years been deprived. Strengthened by these 
 and an occasional glass of fruity port, which his wife doled out 
 to him, he be^an to extend " The English Language," and 
 
 i 
 
THE REV. C. T. MUDBURY DAWSON. 61 
 
 another lecture called " The Power of Speech," into regions 
 which had hitherto been plunged in ignorance of both subjects. 
 The stock-in-trade of the worthy and gifted couple was sufficient 
 to afford amusement and instruction to the inhabitants of the 
 suburbs on the North and East of London, and Mrs. Dawson 
 felt that she would be able to renew that stock when exhaustion 
 was imminent. 
 
 No such contingency, however, had arisen at the period when 
 Mrs. Dawson was sent by the Anti-Tobacco League to address 
 the ladies of Silvcrstone in the Mechanics' Institute of that 
 flourishing and increasing town — one of the many within fifteen 
 miles of London, which have, within the last few decades, grown 
 to twenty and fifty-fold their previous size. Miss Janet 
 Nettlerash, who inhabited a pretty house with a large garden 
 about a mile from Silverstone, in a part of the country not yet 
 altogether covered by suburban villas, was attracted by the huge 
 posters which decorated every available hoarding and blank wall 
 in the neighbourhood. Miss Nettlerash had very strong feelings 
 about tobacco : the smell of a cigar offended her, and the fumes 
 of a pipe made her sick. The Virginian weed was not used in 
 her greenhouses, for, said she, it affected the flavour of her 
 grapes. No smoker was ever wittingly invited to her house. 
 The subject of the lecture was, therefore most interesting to the 
 spinster, and her interest was increased by the circumstance 
 that the lecturer was a lady. Miss Nettlerash at once applied to 
 the local stationer for a ticket, and he, aware of the social status 
 of his customer, suggested that she must take a seat on the 
 platform, the body of the hall being intended for what he, as 
 much to gratify the tradesman's inordinate dislike of the class of 
 mechanics as to please his client, chose to call " quite common 
 people." Mr. Treddles had not only undertaken the sale of 
 tickets on commission, but had also placed his services and his 
 local knowledge at the disposal of Mrs. Dawson, for a considera- 
 tion. It was he who suggested the persons on whom the clergy- 
 man's wife should call to ask for their patronage ; and on him 
 devolved the arrangement of seats and of procedure. When the 
 
62 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 time arrived, therefore, Miss Nettlerash found herself placed in a 
 comfortable chaii' in the first row of the platform, slightly to the 
 right of, hut close to, the small table reserved for the lecturer. 
 Precisely at eight o'clock Mrs. Dawson appeared, gracefully 
 leaning on the arm of her husband, whose slender frame was 
 almost eclipsed by her Juno-like proportions. Mrs. Dawson had 
 gained flesh since she had returned to England ; she was now a 
 majestic woman with a voluminous bosom and powerful limbs. 
 Her dress was of rustling brown silk, trimmed with yellow, and 
 falling over a jiqoc of a lighter shade ; it displayed the fine pro- 
 portions of her arms from the shoulder to the point where ten- 
 buttoned gloves encircled them. Eound her portly neck were 
 heavy links of real or Abyssinian gold ; her head was decorated 
 with a combination of yellow ribbons and black lace, which would 
 liave made a smaller woman look ridiculous, but scarcely clashed 
 with her grey hair, which was dressed in bands over her ears. 
 Mrs. Dawson had small but piercing black eyes, eyebrows which, 
 were still many shades darker than her hair, and gave her a 
 weu-d expression ; a strong aquiline nose, a mouth too large and 
 lips too thin for beauty, but not objectionable in outline ; a pro- 
 jecting chin, and a complexion carefully arranged so that the 
 ravages of time should not be too apparent. 
 
 After a graceful salute to the audience in return for the usual 
 formal applause, Mrs. Dawson opened her lecture by taking 
 her hearers into her confidence. Her curiosity had some 
 time ago been roused, said she, by the number of tobacconists 
 she had noticed in the streets. Having been abroad in the 
 >2olonies for many years she had only made this observation 
 recently, but once made, she followed up the trail, and discovered 
 that there were as many shops for the sale of tobacco as there were 
 public-houses, and that smoking absorbed almost as much money 
 as drinking. There were twice as many tobacconists in London, 
 Mrs. Dawson declared, as there were bakers; three times as 
 many cigar shops as boot shops ; six times as many as clothiers. 
 The deductions were obvious. People spent twice as much on 
 tobacco as they did on bread, the staff" of life ; three times as 
 
THE REV. C. T. MUDEURY DAWSON". 63 
 
 much as they did on boots, six times the amount they expended 
 in clothes. And all this money was spent, said the lecturer, in 
 a filthy habit which could not under any possible circumstances 
 do any good whatever, which satisfied neither hunger nor thirst, 
 which neither kept out heat nor cold, which was not only useless 
 to assist in prolonging life, but was a slow but sure means of' 
 destroying it. The vice of smoking was unnatural, nay more, it 
 was positively poisonous. Mrs. Dawson then went on to give 
 statistics carefully compiled for the purpose, and quoted all 
 the medical opinions she had been able to obtain from the doctors 
 who wage war against tobacco. Then followed a graphic picture 
 of the more immediate results of smoking; the stifling, impure 
 atmosphere of the cottage parlour, the cough of the wife, the 
 sneeze of the children ; the noxious odour emanating from the 
 smoker, from his clothes, and from everything with which he 
 comes in contact ; the sums wasted on the vile weed by the father, 
 while the poor mother was obliged to stint her children in food, 
 or to allow them to run about in rags ; the diseases which followed 
 on the money intended for boots having gone in buying cavendish ; 
 the lingering illness, death, and funeral. Having enlarged on 
 the points which we have only indicated, Mrs. Dawson then 
 contrasted the habits and home of the virtuous non-smoker with 
 the previous pictures, and showed that he who abstained from 
 tobacco would ensure health here below and perpetual bliss here- 
 after. This theorem was scarcely enunciated thus broadly, but 
 the whole drift of the discourse tended to prove the intimate 
 connection between abstention from tobacco and salvation of souls. 
 After a little more than an hour had thus been spent, the scenes of 
 horrer depicted in a deep voice, those of sorrow in a sad, low 
 tone, and the joyful home of the non-smoker described with 
 cheerful, high notes, Mrs. Dawson stopped, and then suddenly 
 pointing to an unfortunate young man of sallow appearance who 
 was leaning against the wall in a listless attitude at the further 
 end of the room, she cried in loud tones, ** You need not look 
 far to witness the dreadful results of this noxious weed. There, 
 there, just behind you, is a young man whose countenancG 
 
61 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 betrays bis prevailing vice." All looked round, follomng tbe 
 speaker's outstretcbed finger. " See bis pale face, bis sunken 
 eyes, ay, and bis trembling knees ! Watcb bim, as be stands 
 tbere, "wbile tbe certainty of premature deatb is casting its 
 gloom over bis worn features." And indeed, tbe miserable 
 object of tbe lady's wratb bad almost collapsed under ber words 
 and tbe gaze of tbe wbole audience. Sbe went on : " See bow 
 bis jaw falls and bis teetb begin to cbatter. It is incipient 
 paralysis ! Look at bim. He is but twenty ; all bis life would 
 bave been before bim, a sunny patb of flowers : but be turned 
 aside and smoked, and now be is being burried on to bis grave, 
 wbicb is already open to receive bim. Tbe demon Tobacco bas 
 fastened bis claws in tbat young man's body, be will not relax 
 tbe fatal grip. God bave mercy upon you ; turn, wbile it is yet 
 time ! " 
 
 Witb tbese words tbe orator disappeared ; sbe made no bow, 
 but left ber audience under tbe full impression of ber peroration. 
 Tbe young man was carried out fainting. He bad never smoked 
 but once in bis life, and tlien it bad made bim sick ; but tliis was 
 unknown to tbe rest of tbe public, wbo credited Mrs. Dawson 
 witb almost supernatural power. Tbe grand people on tbe 
 platform meanwbile slowly filed out tbrougb tbe private room, 
 wbere tbe lecturer was resting in an arm-cbair, and refresbing 
 herself witb iced water. 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 FAMILY AERANGEMENTS. 
 
 NETTLERASH was 
 
 very much struck by 
 Mrs. Dawson's lecture, 
 and at once became 
 her most enthusiastic 
 disciple. The elderly 
 maiden laid it down as 
 a principle that all her 
 pursuits must have 
 some higher object, 
 generally one connected 
 with the benefit of the 
 human race. Abandon- 
 ing her last favourite 
 medical fancy to take 
 care of itself, she at 
 once joined in Mrs. Dawson's crusade against tobacco and 
 alcohol. The Silverton evening gained for the fair lec- 
 turer a staunch friend and supporter. To Miss Nettle- 
 rash — who, notwithstanding all her foibles, was too sen- 
 sible to thmk that women ought to remain unmarried in 
 order to do good — the lecturer at once appeared as the ideal 
 woman. Nor was Mrs. Dawson's conversation at all of a 
 nature to destroy this illusion. She was something of a diplo- 
 matist as well as an orator, and the few remarks she made in 
 answer to Miss Nettlerash's polite and genuine speeches 
 of congratulation on her success quite confirmed that lady's 
 opinion. Soon they became fast friends. Miss Nettlerash 
 attended a lecture of the Rev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson's " On the 
 
GQ FAIR DIANA. 
 
 English Language," and then another on " Elegance of Style 
 and Elocution." She was equally fascinated by both, for the 
 poor lady had not read Trench's little books, and was not aware 
 that the first lecture was nothing but a condensation of the two 
 best know n of these useful volumes, while the second was com- 
 pounded from " Chambers's Pronouncing Dictionary," and a few 
 anecdotes cut out of sundry provincial papers, the whole con- 
 nected by some prose of Mrs. Dawson's. Miss Ncttlerash, 
 who was alwaj's in a fit of adoration before some one person or 
 another, 2iow fell prone at the feet of Mr. and Mrs. jMudbury 
 Dawson, who appeared to her nothing short of regenerators of 
 the human race. She soon discovered that the worthy couple 
 were not in the most affluent circumstances. She visited them 
 at their lodgings in the north of London, and when their little 
 daughter became ailing she offered to take her for a few weeks 
 to her nice place near Silverton, so that the child might enjoy 
 fresh country air, and have a run in the garden and orchard. 
 Of course the clergyman and his wife were delighted with the 
 suggestion, and somehow it happened that little Marian Dawsou 
 remained at Silverton. Miss Nettlerash really grew fond of the 
 child, and the dingy lodgings of her parents, with the inferior 
 cooking and attendance, were not such as conduced to the health of 
 a young girl constitutionally rather delicate. Nor did the frequent 
 absences of Mr. and Mrs. Dawson permit that regularity of instruc- 
 tion, of meals, and of leisure hours which is indispensable to the 
 proper education of children. Some short time therefore before 
 ]Mis3 Nettlerash's visit to her sister at Warboroiigh little Marian 
 Dawson had been formally and permanently installed at Silverton. 
 A governess was engaged for her, and a French master came 
 down from London twice a week to give her lessons. Every 
 now and then the Ecv. C. T. Mudbury Dawson made a casual 
 call, when he would kiss his child on the forehead and say, 
 " Glad to see you looking so well, my dear. You should be 
 much obliged to Miss Xettlerash," and then depart without 
 further enquiry as to her studies or other pursuits. Mrs. Dawson 
 was very glad to be relieved from the dilemma of dragging a girl 
 of fifteen about with her when she " starred " the provinces, or 
 
FAMILY ARRANGEMENTS. G7 
 
 of leaving her at home to the care of lodging-house servants. 
 Marian Avas an intelligent and good-tempered child. The 
 arrangement was of advantage to all, for even Miss Nettlerash 
 found the companionship of the girl pleasant and soothing after 
 exciting hours spent in debating delicate subjects at public 
 meetings or in fighting with her still unconverted sisters. 
 
 After leaving Warborough Miss Nettlerash joined her friends 
 at Saintsbury, a country town about twenty miles further on, 
 where a lecture was delivered in the afternoon by Mrs. Dawson, 
 against the use of strong drink, and in the evening by the licv. 
 C. T. Mudbury Dawson on "The Pronounciation of the English 
 Language." Miss Nettlerash considered it a matter of friend- 
 ship, of duty, and of pleasure to travel with the two lecturers 
 as much and as often as she could. It is true that she had 
 heard the lecture against tobacco some thirty times, and that 
 against alcohol thirty-five. It is also true that she knew the 
 discourse on the English language nearly by heart, and that the 
 oration on elocution was almost equally familiar to her. Yet 
 she never wearied of occupying a conspicuous place on the 
 platform, nor was her presence at all unpleasant to our two 
 friends. For it must be admitted that on these occasions the 
 purse of the llcv. C. T. Mudbury Dawson was seldom drawn upon. 
 Miss Nettlerash was in the habit of engaging a sitting-room 
 for herself at the best hotel, and this sitting-room became 
 the parlour of the Rev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson and his wife. 
 
 After the evening lecture at Saintsbury Miss Nettlerash and 
 her friend sat down at the fire in the old-fashioned room at the 
 " George Hotel." They ordered tea and began chatting, it 
 being understood that after his exertions the Rev. C. T. Mud- 
 bury Dawson required something more substantial than merely 
 tea, and would be taking supper in the coff"ee-room. 
 
 "How wonderfully good Mr. Dawson was to-night," said Miss 
 Nettlerash. 
 
 "Do you think so, my dear?" asked Mrs. Davrson, hardly 
 suppressing a yawn. " I thought he was much the same as 
 usual." 
 
 "Indeed he wa» still better than usual, if possible," exclaimed 
 
 F 2 
 
G8 FATE, DIANA. 
 
 Miss Nettlerasli. " ^Ylly, he introduced a lot of new matter into 
 his discourse." 
 
 "Indeed? " asked Mrs. Dawson, languidly. 
 
 *' Of course he did, my dear," continued Miss Nettlerash. 
 *' That remark about the common people always pronouncing 
 (lo(/ ' dawg ' was something quite new. It has never struck me 
 before, but it is perfectly true, is it not ? " 
 
 " I think it is," answered Mrs. Dawson. 
 
 " Of course," continued the maiden lady. " And what he said 
 about cockneys was so clever, so true to life. They don't say 
 cab, they say ' keb ; ' and how beautifully he put it ! He is a 
 splendid imitator, and yet he talks such lovely English himself, 
 does he not ? " 
 
 " I suppose so," assented Mrs. Dawson. 
 
 "And so do 3'ou, my dear," Miss Nettlerash continued, enthu- 
 siasticall}'. " Oh, Avhat bliss it must be to be married to such 
 a man as ^Ir. Dawson. Do you not feel a happy woman ? " 
 
 ** I suppose I do," answered Mrs. Dawson, concealing another 
 yawn behind her hand, " Have some more tea." 
 
 *' Thank you. But of course I don't mean that you don't 
 deserve it. You of all women most deserve to have so admirable 
 a husband." 
 
 *' I am glad j'ou think so," said Mrs. Dawson. 
 
 " Of course you do, dear ! You are admirably matched, are 
 you not? Your life must be one continued harmony." 
 
 Mrs. Dawson looked as if she were not quite sure about the 
 continued harmony, but did not contradict her patroness. 
 
 " A Avoman like yourself — full of energy, brains, and anxiet}- 
 to do good," continued Miss Nettlerash, " is far above the pre- 
 judices of the weak vessels who call themselves women. Such a 
 woman should be, as she is, united to a man who is the only man 
 I have ever known without any vices at all. A man of great 
 learning and brilliancy," continued Miss Nettlerash, warming to 
 her subject ; " clever, accomplished, an orator who neither smokes 
 nor drinks " 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and a form somewhat un- 
 certain in its movements strove to enter the room. 
 
FAMILY ARRANGEMENTS. 69 
 
 " Old 'oomaii gone to bed yet ? " asked a thick voice. 
 
 Mrs. Dawson jnmpcd np hastily, while a cuiious odonr 
 compounded of spirits and tobacco suddenly pervaded the 
 apartment. 
 
 " Hush ! " cried Mrs. Dawson, seizing her husband and 
 hustling him out of the room. " Hush ! go to bed." She 
 bundled him out, pushed him along the passage, and locked him 
 into their bed-room. The interruption was brief, and in a 
 minute Mrs. Dawson was again on her chair by the lire. 
 
 " Poor man," she said to Miss Nettlerash, "he is quite over- 
 come by the heat of the room, the smell of the gas, and his own 
 exertions. That sometimes happens after these lectures. I have 
 to see him to bed and give him a little reviving draught. I shall 
 go and look after him directly." 
 
 "Poor Mr. Dawson!" exclaimed Miss Nettlerash sympa- 
 thisingly. " I am afraid he is working too hard, but you should 
 consult a doctor." 
 
 Mrs. Dawson smiled somewhat grimly. " We have already 
 done so, and the doctor prescribed the draught I mention." 
 
 " Is not there a curious smell *in the room ? " asked Miss 
 Nettlerash suddenly. " It is like tobacco. I noticed it when 
 Mr. Dawson opened the door just now. I could not quite make 
 out what he said, for his voice seemed quite confused somehow. 
 I wonder w'here that smell comes from." 
 
 " From the hall, no doubt," Mrs. Dawson said. " Those 
 country bumpkins have been smoking all over the place, j^ou Imow, 
 and of course when Mr. Dawson opened the door he let the smell 
 in. Yes," she continued, as if reflectively, " poor Mr. Dawson ! 
 he often loses his voice after these lectures." 
 
 Miss Nettlerash smiled at a conceit which struck her at that 
 moment. " He talked as if he were tipsy, my dear," she ex- 
 claimed. "Is it not funny ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Dawson, anxious to turn the conversation, 
 "It is the effect of the gas and the exertion. Bj'-the-bye, have 
 you heard anything lately of your precious connection Miss 
 Diana Brauscombe ? " 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A LITTLE PEIVATE GOSSIP. 
 
 Now Miss Nettlerasli was as fond of gossiping about her rela- 
 tions and friends as any maiden lady, less strong-minded, could 
 he. She knew the ages of her whole family from the eldest to 
 ilic 3'oungest, v.ith their respective birthdays, and she had an 
 unpleasant habit of discussing these ages in general company. 
 Her memory was a complete encyclopaedia of all events which 
 even remotely affected the members of the Branscombe family, 
 into which her sister had married, or her own. A sporting man 
 would have backed Miss Nettlerash against any number of 
 family Bibles and would have won his money. Upon the delin- 
 quencies of her " sisters, her cousins, and her aunts," she was 
 particularly hard, and Mrs. Dawson well knew that in enquiring 
 about Miss Diana Branscombe she was opening a most congenial 
 topic. 
 
 "My dear Eliza," said Miss Nettlerash, lifting up her hands, 
 " the way that girl goes on is perfectly awful." 
 
 " Anything new then ? " asked Mrs. Dawson. 
 
 " There is no occasion for anything new," replied Miss Nettle- 
 rash. " Her doings for the last three years have been the talk 
 of London and Bankshire, and she has not improved a bit." 
 
 " I never quite know," said Mrs. Dawson enquiringly, " what 
 she really does. I know that she is rather a fast young person, 
 and that is all." 
 
 *' Fast, Ehza ! " echoed Miss Nettlerash. " / call it perfectly 
 iiorrid. In my time nobody would have visited a girl that flirted 
 •n that way. Why last season she was about the whole summer 
 with some Italian adventurer — Count he called himself. If I 
 went to the theatre, which was not often, I used to see her in a 
 box with that Count. When I drove to call on dear Mrs. Smith 
 at Richmond I saw her on the top of a four-horse coach — drags 
 
A. LITTLE PRIVATE GOSSIP. 71 
 
 tliey call them, I think — with that black man. If I ever strayed 
 into the Park, which did not happen more than once or twice in 
 the season, I was sure to see her riding with him. And I hear 
 that her goings on with him at balls and things were perfectly 
 dreadful." 
 
 " Did he propose to her ? " aslced IMrs. Dawson. 
 *' I don't know, I am sure. At any rate if they had been 
 engaged they could not have been more together than they were. 
 I daresay the man had a wife and seven yellow children some- 
 whore in the Avikls of Italy. How Sir Henry ever could have 
 been so blind I cannot understand, and he docs not seem to be a 
 bit better now." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that he allows all this ? " 
 " Allows it ! AVhy he actually encourages it. Would you 
 believe, Eliza, he asked that Count down to Branscombe Hall, and 
 Diana actually gave him riding lessons." 
 " Riding lessons ? " 
 
 ** Yes," said Miss Nettlerash, who was quite devoid of humour. 
 " Ralph told me. It seems that the man had never got on a 
 horse in his life — could not afford it, I suppose — and Diana made 
 him ride one of her hunters all round a grass plot at the Hall — - 
 what she calls her ring — and she stood in the middle with a whip, 
 just like the men do at the circus, and cracked the whip until the 
 horse galloped, and then the foreign Count fell off." 
 " That was rather clever," remarked Mrs. Dawson. 
 ''"VYell, at any rate there was one good thing," continued Miss 
 Nettlerash. " The Count left the Hall, they say, because he 
 could not bear having to tumble off the horse every day, even to 
 please Diana. That was the end of the Count. But she had 
 gone on with him to such an extent that everybody says they 
 ought to have been married." 
 
 " And since then? " asked Mrs. Dawson. 
 " And since then I hear she has taken up somebody else — an 
 officer in the Guards or something of that sort, one of those 
 gi'eat, tall swaggerers, who smoke and drink and swear ; and that 
 
72 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 fool, Sir Henry, has asked him down to the Hall as ^velL They 
 are alwaj's ahout together." 
 
 " You don't say so," Mrs. Dawson remarked. 
 
 "It is a fact, my dear. I call it wicked, positively wicked, of 
 Sir Henry. He is taking charge of the girl and has brought her 
 up, and he has no right to imperil her interests in this Avorld and 
 the next in the manner he does. No respectable man will marry 
 that girl after all these goings on." 
 
 " But after all," ventured the clergyman's wife, "her flu-ta- 
 tions may he perfectly harmless." 
 
 " Harmless, my dear ! " repeated the indignant maiden, with 
 some shrewdness. " How would a respectable city merchant, for 
 instance, like to marry a girl whose name has been coupled with 
 a dozen diiferent men during the last few j'ears ? "What chance 
 has he of domestic happiness, such as you enjoy for instance, 
 darling ? " affectionately taking Mrs. Dawson's hand. 
 
 " Oh, don't talk of my happiness," said the latter Avearily. " I 
 have hard work to keep going, notwithstanding your kindness.*" 
 
 " Never mention that," Miss Nettlerash said. "I am glad to 
 be of some little use to two people like yourselves wlio are doing 
 so much for humanity. But what good does a girl like Diana 
 do ? She gets into mischief, and leads men into mischief, and 
 her foolish uncle looks on with his eyes shut. She was hidden 
 away somewhere for six weeks last year, and no one knows wdiy 
 she went or what she did. People said all sorts of things about 
 it. Sir Henry would not tell anyone where she was, and made 
 matters Avorse. I am perfectly sick of it." 
 
 " I hope that nothing worse will happen," said Mrs. Dawson. 
 
 *' So do I," agreed Miss Nettlerash; "but I am very 
 much afraid. I would not have her as my niece at any price. 
 God forbid ! " 
 
 ** There is not much chance of that," remarked ]Mrs. Dawson. 
 
 " No, I am thankful to say there is not," assented Miss 
 Nettlerash. 
 
 " I must look after my invalid," said Mrs. Dawson, rising. 
 
 "Good night, dear; I hope Mr. Dawson will be quite well in 
 
A LITTLE PRIVATE GOSSIP. 73 
 
 tlie morning," Miss Nettlerasli said, tenclerl_y emLracing her 
 friend. " Good night, dear Eliza." 
 
 Mrs. DaAvson was up long before her spouse — in fact, she was 
 dressed and ready for work before he opened his e^'es. She pro- 
 ceeded to wake him, a matter of no small diiliculty. When she 
 at last succeeded, the Eev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson rubbed his 
 eyes, and then laid his hand on his forehead. 
 
 " I don't feel very well," he murmured. " I think I had better 
 stay in bed to-da_y, Eliza." 
 
 " Stay in bed ! " she exclaimed, indignantly. " Wretched man ! 
 you have got to lecture at Pedlington at seven o'clock, and we 
 have to travel fifty miles before then. Alexander," she continued 
 solemnly, as the orator sat up in bed, making a ghastly figure v.itli 
 his sallow cheeks and sunken eyes, "you got disgraceful!}' 
 tipsy last night." 
 
 *' I did not," feebly answered the clergyman. 
 
 *'You did," continued Mrs. Dawson. "You were horribty 
 and disgracefully drunk. You almost spoiled the whole thing, 
 staggering into the room as you did." 
 
 " I am sure I did not," repeated Mr. Dawson. 
 
 " Alexander," she said again, " you talk nonsense. What did 
 you take downstairs ? " 
 
 " I only had one brandy and soda." 
 
 "Stuff!" said the lady. "You had better tell, because I 
 shall send for the bill. I shall soon find out then what you took. 
 A nice man you are to be the husband of a woman who works 
 herself to death preaching abstinence from alcohol and tobacco." 
 
 "They are good things in moderation," murmured the 
 reverend gentleman. 
 
 " Perhaps they are," continued Mrs. Dawson. " But you 
 don't use them in moderation. You get drunk the moment you 
 are out of my sight. You will disgrace us yet, and bring ruin 
 on the whole family. I often feel inclined to leave you to 
 your own nasty, vulgar courses, and to go and lecture on mj' 
 own account. I should only have one to keep then, at any 
 rate." 
 
74 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 "Well," expostulated Mr. Dawsou, " tlie old woman pretty 
 Avell keeps us as it is." 
 
 " Pretty well keeps us ! " eclioed his wife, sarcastically " She 
 does not pay for your coats and waistcoats, and hats and white 
 ties, nor for your brandy and soda and filthy cigars, does she ? " 
 
 *' And she does not pay for your dresses and bonnets, I sup- 
 pose ? " retorted the reverend gentleman. " I have to work hard 
 for them, and a good many other things as well." 
 
 " And I should like to know whether she would pay foi- onr 
 railway journeys and hotel bills if it were not for your wife, 
 Alexander." 
 
 " He, he ! " giggled the Rev. Mr. Dawson, weakly. " I don't 
 know that. I rather think she likes mc." 
 
 The lady turned upon him furiously. "Oh, she likes you, 3'ou 
 conceited, ugly, drunken wretch ! You think she likes you ? 
 Very well, Ave will see. Alexander," she said, solemnly, "I 
 shall now psick up my things and leave you. You may shift for 
 yourself at Pedlington and Upton ]\Lijor, and wherever you want 
 to lecture. I shall have nothing more to do with it, nor with 
 you. From this hour we are separated." And with these words 
 Mrs. Dawson proceeded to open a trunk, out of which she cast 
 forth every article v.iiich belonged to male attire. " There," she 
 said, " there are your things. Pack them up or leave them 
 alone. Do what you please with them. I shall go away by the 
 ten o'clock train with Miss Nettlerash. But I shall not prevent 
 your making love to her if you like." 
 
 There was a thorough business-like air about Mrs. Dawson 
 while she proceeded to prepare her things for departure. She 
 went about the room with compressed lips and a frowning brow, 
 taking no further notice of her husband. 
 
 " Don't, Eliza," at last murmured the reverend gentleman 
 from the bed. " Get me a bottle of soda water, please, and I 
 think I could eat a red herring for breakfast." 
 
 " You may ring the bell and ask for whatever you please, and 
 pay for it too," answered Mrs. Dawson. "I will have nothing 
 more to do with you." 
 
A LITTLE ITJVATE GOSSIP. 75 
 
 " Oh, please don't, Eliza," repeated the Kev. C. T. Mudbury 
 Dawson. " It was only a little joke of mine. I could not do 
 without you, indeed ; you know I could not." 
 
 " You wretch," Mrs. Dawson exclaimed, turning round to him 
 again ; "you cowardly wretch ! How dare you insult your wife's 
 feelings in this way? You know you could not go on with your 
 Avork a week without me." 
 
 " I know I could not," Mr. Dawson assented feebly. 
 
 " How much did you drink last night, you tipsy brute ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 *' Upon my honour, only two brandies and sodas." 
 
 "Now, if you don't tell the truth I shall leave you to your- 
 self. Good bye ! " and Mrs. Dawson approached the door. 
 
 " Eliza, dear," her husband cried, piteously, " do stop ; don't 
 go aw'ay and leave your poor Alexander all alone. I w'ill tell you 
 all about it, and I w'on't get screwed again. I thought a pint 
 of champagne would do me good after all that lecturing, so I 
 just had a little with my supper." 
 
 "How many pints?" inquired Mrs. Dawson, sternly. 
 
 "Only one," asseverated Mr. Dawson, "and you know it was 
 not robbing Marian, because the old woman will pay for it." 
 
 " The old woman pay for it, indeed ! " sneered the lady. 
 " Why, she believes you never touch intoxicating liquors." 
 
 " Oh, I told them to put it down as turtle soup," jMr. Dawson 
 answered. "It is all right." 
 
 " Sneak ! " was all he got for his ruse. " And what else did 
 you have ? " 
 
 " What else did I have ? Well, just a glass of port wine to 
 settle it. And those two brandies and sodas settled vie, 1 
 suppose." 
 
 " A glass of port wine ? " and again Mrs. Dawson looked at 
 him sternly. " How many glasses, I should like to know ? " 
 
 "Well, a glass or two, my dear," said Mr. Dawson, writhin"- 
 under the cross-examination. 
 
 "Well," Mrs. Dawson said, "I will give.vou one more chance, 
 and it is more than you deserve. Here is a penniless man who has 
 
76 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 to be kept by bis wife by the sweat of her brow, wasting his sub- 
 stance and bis health in champagne and port wine and brandy. 
 It is too disgraceful. I warn you, Alexander, if it happens once 
 more there will be an end to all this. Now get up, and make 
 haste to dress. I will bring you some soda water, just to give 
 you a fillip." 
 
 Mrs. Dawson was as good as her word, for she brought the 
 soda water, and added to it a little of something stronger out of 
 a flask she generally travelled with. 
 
 Mr. Dawson was soon made presentable, and appeared humbly 
 at his -fife's side at the breakfast table in Miss Nettlerash's 
 comfortable sitting-room. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ELDOEADO GOLD COMPANY (LBIITED). 
 
 Y WAS not long before 
 the two hundred 
 pounds which Mr. 
 Throgmorton Toms 
 had lent Ralph 
 Branscombe were 
 exhausted. Small 
 sums on account did, 
 indeed, pacify the 
 most rapacious of his 
 creditors for the mo- 
 ment ; but they were 
 not a complete cure of his sufferings. Very soon the disease 
 appeared in a form equally aggravated and equally painful. 
 Messrs. Brown, Holland, & Co., the great East India firm, 
 in whose office Ralph occupied what would fifty years ago 
 have been called a stool, but what was in fact a comfortable 
 arm-chair, were by no means hard task-masters. Wlien 
 Ralph entered the City on leaving college it had been under- 
 stood that he w'as doing so with a view of acquiring busi- 
 ness habits, and not necessarily with the object of making 
 a livelihood. Brown, Holland, & Co. were old friends of 
 Sir Henry Branscombe's, and the East India merchants were 
 glad to oblige the wealthy and influential baronet by giving his 
 nephew a berth on a "nominal" salary. The firm did not, 
 therefore, expect from Ralph the same methodical ways nor the 
 same regularity of attendance which was exacted from the 
 other persons employed by them. Frequent holidays for 
 
78 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 liunting in the \viutei', for cricket or boat races in the 
 summer, were asked for and granted as a matter of course, and 
 the pleasant ways of J'oung Branscombe had carried oft" these 
 privileges without much envy from the other occupants of the 
 ofi&ce. But though Messrs. Brown, Holland, & Co. were indul- 
 gent they were not lax. AYhen Ralph had not obtained leave he 
 was expected to be at his place at ten precisely, and not to go 
 till his work was finished. On mail evening he was frequently 
 detained far beyond his ordinary dinner hour, for Ralph was a 
 good and facile penman, and his assistance was then very useful. 
 Nor did he object to this work ; nay, rather did he enjoy it ; 
 and while the mere clerks always hated the approach of the 
 weekly Friday, Ralph looked forward to that evening as an 
 occasion for exercising his energies to the utmost — almost as 
 he might look forward to a four-mile steeple-chase — with some 
 little trepidation, but no small pleasure. When the last bundle 
 of letters was finished just in time to catch the mail train at 
 Cannon Street, Ralph generally ran oft" with it himself, and in 
 sauntering on to his club afterwards would often recapitulate 
 the manner in vrhich he had dealt with old Rumjansee's extor- 
 tionate demand, or settled that delicate matter about the general 
 average of the " Samoy's " cargo. And Brovni, Holland, & Co. 
 were well aAvare that they had acquired in Ralph an extremely 
 valuable correspondent — a man who would quickly, almost in- 
 tuitively, grasp the drifts of their wishes and work them out on 
 paper with a rapidity and an ease of language of which the old 
 gentlemen themselves would not have been capable. Yet Brown, 
 Holland, & Co., as our hero well knew, would stand no nonsense. 
 If they had suspected the condition of his finances his shrift 
 VNOuld have been short indeed, though he might be ten times Sir 
 Henry's nephew. No bailiff" should ever enter their ponderous 
 mahogany doors, nor should any writ be served on tlieir 
 premises. 
 
 Ralph was so conscious of the result if anything leaked out, 
 and so sure that disgrace with Brown, Holland, & Co. would 
 
THE ELDORADO . GOLD COMPANY (lTMITEd). 79 
 
 be swiftly followed by disgrace with his uncle, that his anxiety 
 grew overwhelming, and he called on JMr. Throgmorton Toms 
 at his office near the Bank of England to inform him that there 
 must be no further delay in settling his liabilities, as otherwise 
 a crash must come. He would, therefore, go to Branscombe 
 on the following Saturday and make a clean breast of it to his 
 uncle, coute que couie. 
 
 Our city friend in vain urged Ealph to postpone his visit ou 
 the score of Sir Henry's health. " I am very sorry," he 
 answered; " but from what my father writes, I think my uncle 
 is much better, and this matter is not likely to do him any harm. 
 At any rate, unless I am able to settle my debts, he is sure to 
 hear of them very soon in a much more unpleasant manner, and 
 will be more seriously upset by the sudden news that I have been 
 bundled out of the office and am made a bankrupt, than he 
 would be by my telling him quietly that I want a thousand." 
 Mr. Toms, finding persuasion impossible, at last said : 
 
 "Well, Ralph, I told you I would do something for 3^ou, and 
 I have been looking out. What I thought of is not quite ready, 
 and I should have preferred waiting a week or two, but I will 
 endeavour to hurry matters. Come and see me on Tuesday at 
 two, and don't do anything till then." 
 
 Ralph gave this assurance, wondering what Mr. Toms could 
 have found to extricate him from his difficulties, and returned 
 on the Tuesday. "Mr. Toms," said the clerk, "is at the 
 Gold Company. Will you step over with me ? " 
 
 Our hero followed the young man, who led him across the 
 street into one of those palatial buildings which are gradually 
 replacing the old shabby, black houses in which city men of olden 
 times used to transact their business. The heavy glazed doors 
 swung back noiselessly, and they ascended a handsome staircase 
 to the first floor, where another pair of still more magnificent 
 doors bore, on a large brass plate, the words : 
 
 ELDORADO GOLD COMPANY (Limited). 
 
80 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 The clerk pushed into a fine, lofty apartment, cut up in half- 
 glazed partitions, and called out : " Gentleman for Mr. 
 Toms." 
 
 *' Mr. Toms is engaged," answered someone. 
 
 " He ain't engaged for this gentleman," replied the clerk, and 
 then whispered to a pert young man who put his head out ot 
 one of the pigeon holes in the partition. 
 
 *'• All right, wait 'arf a minnitt," said the pert young man. 
 
 There was some whistling up a tube, and some growling 
 through it like the gobbling of turkeys, and then the pert young 
 man came out, and obsequiously holding open a door, beckoned 
 Ptalpli through. 
 
 " Mr. Toms is waiting for you in the Board-room, sir." 
 
 The Board-room was spacious, lofty, well lighted, and hand- 
 somely decorated. It was furnished with a substantial tabic 
 covered with green cloth, round which were placed eight most 
 attractive arm chairs, of which the one at the head was a 
 little larger than the rest. At a sm;dler table, covered with 
 papers, sat !Mr. Throgmorton Toms, giving orders to a couple 
 of clerks. 
 
 He waved his hand to them as majestically as he could. 
 
 " That will do, Simpkins. You may go, Wrightson. 
 Now, Ralph, sit down. First of all, I must tell you that if you 
 expect to get on in the City you must be able to hold your 
 tongue." 
 
 " Of course," assented Ealph. 
 
 " Yes, you say ' of course,' " continued Mr. Throgmorton 
 Toms, " but you must remember that half the good things in 
 this world arc spoilt because people talk about them. If you 
 make money, keep it to yourself, Ralph, and don't tell anyone 
 hoiv you make it. There are plenty of folks anxious to find out 
 the right way, and they will always come and feed at your trough 
 if you'd let them. Just don't tell them where your trough is," 
 added the vulgar little man. 
 
 *' I won't," answered Ealph, rather disgusted. 
 
THE ELUOKADO GOLD COMPANY (lIMITEd). 81 
 
 " That is not cuougli for mc in this matter," Mr. Toms went 
 on; "I want to do you a service, because I wish to save poor 
 Sir Henry any anxiety, and because I'd like to see you get on. 
 But unless I can reckon on your discretion I can do nothing for 
 you." 
 
 *' What am I to be silent about ?" asked Ralph. 
 
 " Ever^'thing," replied the City man. " This Company, the 
 offices, myself, yourself; it is no one's business but our own, and 
 you have no occasion to say you have been here. Will you give 
 me your word of honour that anything I tell you or show 30U, 
 anything you may see or hear, will be a sacred secret to 
 you?" 
 
 Ralph was almost alarmed at this mysterious beginning. 
 
 *' Well," he said, " I suppose you are not doing any harm ? " 
 
 *' Harm ! Do you think we are going to hocus anyone and 
 rob him?" sneered Mr. Throgmorton Toms. "You must keep 
 everything secret, because we have got a most valuable thing, a 
 splendid thing, and if it were known or even whispered, every 
 fellow in London would want a share of it. Do you under- 
 stand? " 
 
 *' Not quite," answered Ralph. " But I think I understand 
 enough to promise you that I won't say a word." 
 
 " Under no circumstances ? " asked Mr. Toms, lifting up his 
 finger. 
 
 " Under no circumstances ! Very well." Ralph assented. 
 
 " Xor to anyone." 
 
 " Not even to my uncle ? " inquired Ralph. 
 
 " Certainly not to your uncle," exclaimed Mr. Throgmorton 
 Toms ; " he has old-fashioned ideas, and would not understand 
 the thing at all. Neither to your father nor to your uncle, nor 
 to any one else." 
 
 " Very well," said Ralph, anxious to get to business, " I give 
 you my word." 
 
 " Then read this, while I finish some letters." Mr. Throg- 
 morton Toms handed our hero a sheet of printed foolscap 
 paper, on which he read as follows : 
 
 6 
 
82 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 THE ELDORADO GOLD CO. (Limited). 
 
 CvriTAL, One Million- rorsD.s, in Onf, ^Iillion Shaui:.s of 
 One Pound Each. 
 
 2s. M. jmtjahle on application, 2s. Od. on uUotmcnt, and the lialance in calls of 5s. each, at not 
 le^s titan three months' interval. 
 
 (Chairman of Council. 
 Tiuj Ur. Hox. Tiu: Eakl of Dixui.KKoni), Uinglcford Hall, Tlun-iis. 
 
 (I'onncil of vlirrctors. 
 Loud Ronald Scatteuton, Uleiilu'ini t'lul). 
 Siu Balbrigoan Hose, M.P., Km-y Ilnusi', Co. Lysnght. 
 Major-Geseual Boozy WuAGENriF, Salire & Rille Clul), Tall JIall. 
 3IALCOLM of PoRRio, Str.ithlaw Castle, X.B., and Ivy House, Chiswick. 
 John James Smith, Esq. (Smith, Jones, <fc Co., of Leatlenhall St.. and llio Janeiro), 
 
 Swindelford Manor, Caveshani. 
 E. J. Black, Esq. (Messrs. Black, Brothers, Manelie.ster and NegropontiO, -17, Xi'W 
 
 Lane, Peekliani. 
 H.E. The Marquis de Castellos y Espaxa (will join the Board after allutnicut). 
 {IVith j)ower to add to their nu)nher). 
 
 ^nnhfrs. 
 The United Bank ov Europe. 
 
 .Solicitors. 
 Messrs. Pickum, Bunes, 6i Co. 
 
 Slubitors. 
 Messrs. Figoers, Adds, Column, & Tuknovek. 
 
 Sccrct-.uir. 
 JosErH Lambe, Esq. 
 
 Tins Company is formed to purchase and work the extremely valuahlp 
 Mining and Territorial rights in the llepublic of Utopia, aciiuired by His 
 Excellency the Marquis de Castellos y Espana. 
 
 Recent researches (see Appendix A. for Extract from works of Professor 
 Ochsen Kopf and the great explorer Signer Didaldi) prove beyond a doubt that a 
 great portion of the Utopian Republic is identical and conterminous with the 
 country of Cathay. Every schoolboy knows that Cathay, that land of Gold, 
 Silver, and Precious Stones, was the dream of Columbus, and the vision of the 
 medi.'cval Explorer. It has been reserved for the nineteenth centuiy to show 
 that Cathay is a real country ; no mei"e figment of fiction, or creation of a vivid 
 imagination ; but a reality, tangible and attainaljle by the energy and perse- 
 verance Mliicli are the special characteristics of the epoch. The reports of it, 
 which are scattered up and down the MSS. of past centuries, are no fables ; the 
 (lold, the Silver, the Diamonds, are real ; they are there, and they have only to 
 c extracted to realize the most Fabulous Wealth. 
 
 Cathay is situated in the upper portion of the Republic of Utopia, its 
 southern frontier being about one hundred miles from the seaboard. It extends 
 Iroin longitude IS-l" to 187° "West, and from latitude 0° to 10° South. This 
 country is intersected with numerous rivers, all of which contain large q^uantities 
 of Gold in their sands. Samples brought over to England have .sliown the 
 enormous quantity of I'cn per cent, of Gold ; while the inuity of the metal, being 
 ab.solutelv ten degrees above proof, is far beyond anything previou.sly assayed in 
 the Royal Mint. Nothing has to be done but to Dredge these Rivers in order to 
 
THE ELDORADO GOLD COMPANY (lIMITEd). 83 
 
 Iji'mg out Virgin Gold by buckctsfiil — iiaj-, by cart-loads. The surrounding 
 Hills teem with Veins of Silver, and in many of these A'eins are found Diamonds 
 of the Purest "Water, Ready for Setting, so that nothing has to be done but to 
 extract the Stone from the Silver Ore, when the Diamond is ready to insert in a 
 brooch, ear-ring, or other ornament. The bountiful hand of Nature thus savca 
 all the expense of cutting and preparing the Stone, besides dispensing with a 
 great portion of Jewellers' proiits. 
 
 Sam]>les of the Gold, of the Silver, and of the Diamonds, can be seen at the 
 Company's Offices, No. 250, Lombard Street. 
 
 To prove his absolute faith in the undertaking, H.E. tlie Marquis dc Castcllos 
 If Eqyana has consented to sell all his rights over the whole country of Cathay 
 for a sum of £250,000 (being a quarter of the capital of the Company), to be 
 cntirclii jMiiil in Shnirs — the JLirquis thus receiving no money at all ; and being, 
 in fact, in the same position as any other Shareholder, No ready money wliat- 
 evcr will be given to the A^endor, excepting of course the small amount required 
 for the formation of the Company. The balance of the Capital is to be expended 
 in purchasing Dredging Machines, Tools, and Plant, and in equipping an 
 Expedition for the purpose of at once opening up the Rivers and Minos of this 
 extraordinary country. 
 
 In the Appendix will be found a number of Re^iorts from scientific men of 
 tmdoulitcd reputation, which prove that the statements of the Directors are not 
 exaggerated. 
 
 The Directors do not wish to appear too sanguine, and would prefer to 
 abstain from jilacing before the Public an exact estimate of the Dividends that 
 may be expected. But if they state that every person who obtains an allotment 
 of one thousand shares may safely anticipate a return of £1000 per annum, they 
 feel that they are far within the mark. 
 
 "When Ealpli had finisliecl the perusal of this precious docu- 
 ment he was ahout to exclaim, but Mr. Toms interrupted him. 
 
 " Eead the Appendix first/' said he, " while I just knock off 
 another letter.'' 
 
 Halph did so. It contained a number of letters from various 
 geologists, chemists, and geographers (mostly foreign), certifying 
 to the extraordinary mineral productions of the country of 
 Cathay. 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Throgmorton Toms when Ealph had laid 
 the papers down, *' what do you think of it ? " 
 
 " Think of it ? " said Ealph ; *' why, that it is all nonsense." 
 
 *' That, I admit, might be the first impression. But what if 
 the Marquis de Castellos y Espana has been there, has pro- 
 cured all the necessary concessions, and having spent tvro years 
 .in investigating the country and putting matters on a legal 
 footmg, comes bade and says he wants nothing for his trouble 
 
 G 2 
 
S4 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 except shares, which, of course, -vvill be valueless if his story is 
 not true ? " 
 
 " That is certainly curious," answered Ralph. 
 
 " That is tJie curious part of it," continued Mr. Throgmorton 
 Toms. *' I did not believe it. I put it all down as a swindle" 
 (with a sly wink) " at first, and would not trust all the scientific 
 reports together. But the man says he w^ants nothing. He has 
 not got the money for the machinery, and all he asks is that wc 
 should liud that. He is so sure of his case, that he is satisfied 
 to wait for the stufi" to come home before he gets anything. 
 Here are the specimens." 
 
 Mr. Toms produced a small cubical brick of a brilliant 
 yellow. It was marked v.ith the assay stamp, and was un- 
 doubtedly pure gold. 
 
 " This," said he, " was cast at the Mint out of the gold dust 
 he brought over. I took the stuff to the Mint mj'self, and here 
 is some I kept back." 
 
 The City man then brought out a small glass bottle containing 
 some fine powder of the same brilliant hue, and a larger one in 
 which was a coarser grey powder, striped and dotted with bright 
 specks. It Avas, he explained, the crude river sand. Finally 
 appeared a knob of silver or some white metal, about the size 
 of a split-pea, in which was stuck a brilliant glistening star, 
 W'hich might well have been a diamond. 
 
 The specimens were certainly there. Whether they came 
 from Cathay or not might be doubted ; but as the Marquis had 
 brought them free of charge, and as he was ready to procure 
 any quantity of them if only he were j^resented with a certain 
 amount of paper which would be absolutely worthless unless his 
 promises were verified, there seemed no further possibility of doubt. 
 
 " Don't you think that it will take ? " asked Mr. Throgmorton 
 Toms. 
 
 ♦' Take ! " 
 
 " Yes. The public will bite to that, won't they ? " 
 
 " Why should they not, if it is all true ? " Ralph inquired, 
 "But if it ?s true " 
 
THE ELDOllADO GOLD COMPANY (lIMITEd). 85 
 
 *' Well? " inquired Mr. Toms. 
 
 " Why don't you and your friends keep tlic discovery to your- 
 selves ? " 
 
 Mr. Toms bit his lip. 
 
 "Well, my dear fellow, you see ," and ho hesitated for a 
 
 moment, "it is a large sum to find. There are dredgers, and 
 tools, and things, and the expedition will cost a lot of money, 
 much more than 7, for instance, could aftbrd." 
 
 "I see," said Ralph. 
 
 "And," continued Mr. Toms, more firmly, as he saw that his 
 hearer was being convinced, "besides, you know, these republics 
 and things out in America are very queer. There might be 
 a revolution there some day. We should get splendid dividends 
 for a few years, and then nothing. No ! I have always said 
 that prudence is the soul of business, and that a wise man does 
 not put all his eggs in one basket. Of course I shall take shares 
 — a great many shares — in fact I have taken a lot. But I could 
 not take all, nor even a quarter." 
 
 llalpli admitted that Mr. Toms might be right. " But," 
 he went on, " how will this splendid thing help me ? I am 
 glad of your good fortune, but I don't see how it will do poor 
 me any good. I can't take shares ; I wish I could." 
 
 "My dear fellow," Mr. Throgmox-ton Toms replied, "we 
 want an active young man like yourself on the Board. We have 
 good men, certainly ; but some of them are scarcely what I 
 should call, well — business men." 
 
 " I should think not," exclaimed Ealph. " Why, Lord 
 Scatterton has had to leave England, and Sir Bory ." 
 
 "'Never mind," answered Mr. Toms, "their names will do 
 well enough, and they are not so black as they are painted. 
 Don't mention those little accidents ; they are not unusual 
 among the aristocracy. But that is A\hat I was coming to. 
 Many of these men are inclined to be idle, and won't look after 
 the business. Now we want some young fellow of business 
 habits and brains who will." 
 
 Ealpli felt flattered. A young man of four-and-twenty, 
 
SG FAIR DIANA. 
 
 occupying a subordinate position in a city oflicc, is always 
 flattered if a senior talks of liim as possessing business liabits 
 and brains. 
 
 '•'You must join the l^oard," Mr. Toms went on. *'You 
 must write an application for a thousand shares." 
 
 " A thousand shares!" Ealpli cried out, "a thousand pounds! 
 "What are you talking about ? " 
 
 ]Mr. Throgmorton Toms went on quickly : " You apply for 
 one thousand shares — that is, a thousand half-crowns. Draw a 
 cheque for one hundred and twenty-five pounds, and I will take 
 care that it is honoured. You will be at once placed on the 
 Board, and will receive a salary as director." 
 
 ** But that won't pay my debts for a long time." 
 
 *'No; but the Board want one of themselves to go out to 
 Cathay with the Marquis and look after matters. Now you're 
 the very man to do it. They're all too lazy. Well, they will 
 pay for that trip. I will see that they ask you to go, and give 
 you a thousand pounds for your outfit and expenses, and another 
 thou' when you come back." 
 
 Ralph opened his eyes. 
 
 ** Do you mean to say that my going out to Utopia would be 
 worth two thousand pounds to the Company ? " 
 
 *' Certainly," said Mr. Throgmorton Toms. "An honest 
 man is worth all that," he added, pompously. "And you've 
 eyes in your head, and brains, too. / should call it a cheap 
 bargain for them. AVill you accept ? " 
 
 " I must think it over," answered Ralph. 
 
 "It does not seem to me to want much thinking over," Mr. 
 Throgmorton Toms replied. " Here is an easy way out of all 
 your troubles — a pleasant trip across the ocean, and a fine career 
 opening to you. How can you hesitate ? Beggars must not be 
 choosers, you know." 
 
 But Ralph drew himself up sharply, and 'Sir. Toms saw that 
 he had <Tone too far. He endeavoured to smooth over his last 
 expression, and at last induced Ralph to agree to accept a seat 
 on the Board. Further than this he declined to go ; " for," as 
 
THE ELDORADO GOLD COMPANY (LIMITEd). 87 
 
 lie said, "perhaps the Board will not care to send me out." 
 But lie promised to return the next day at four o'clock and talcc 
 his seat with the other directors. On the Wednesday he could 
 get away at that hour easily. When the door closed behind 
 him ]Mr. Toms flung down his pen and began pacing the room 
 uneasily. 
 
 " Confound the fellow ! " he cried aloud, though he was alone, 
 " what a job it was to persuade him ! And ho may turn it up 
 after all." But would he " turn it up ? " Mr. Toms con- 
 sidered. Surely not. The prospect of adventure, the certainty 
 of escape from debt and disgrace, the novelty of the position, and 
 the attraction of being member of a board of directors — all these 
 advantages had been duly presented in their proper turn, and 
 were sure to have their due effect. If Ealpli would only 
 sail for Utopia at once it would be a great advantage. The 
 Branscombe name would look well in the prospectus, as not one 
 in a thousand knew that Ralph Branscombe had no money, while 
 everyone was aware of the existence of a very rich Branscombe. 
 And during his absence the Board could make ample use of the 
 name, as Mr. Throgmorton Toms well Imew. Such a conve- 
 nience, too, to get the lad out of the way just now ! Why that 
 alone was worth a thousand. Besides, there was no telling what 
 might happen. Utopia was not particularly healthy ; a young 
 man with English habits might find out, when too late, that 
 they were inconsistent with a tropical climate. And then there 
 might be revolutions and bandits, or Indians and poisoned 
 arrows, not to mention collisions at sea, and storms. In short, 
 a vista of contingencies unpleasant to our hero was opened up 
 by Mr. Throgmorton Toms' imagination ; and he did not seem 
 alarmed at the risks his youthful relative was about to run. 
 
 Meanwhile the mind of the latter was strangely troubled. 
 Neither the discomforts of a long sea voyage, nor the hardships 
 of a rough exploration in a wild country, were likely to alarm a 
 3^oung man of Ralph's character. On the contrary, the prospect of 
 discomforts, of hardships, and above all of new and strange experi- 
 ences, acted on him as a strong temptation to go, and Avas almost 
 
88 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 US efiective an auxiliary to Mr. Toms' plans as the certainty of 
 escaping from his debts. But "svhen the clay's work "vvas done, 
 and the evening wore on, while Ralph was slowly smoking one 
 cigarette after another in the solitude of his chambers, his feelings 
 gradually took a tangible form. AVhat were they ? What was 
 the reason of his repugnance to Mr. Throgmorton Toms' other- 
 Avise so tempting proposal ? It took him much time and thought 
 to reply to these questions, even to himself; but the answers 
 were gradually cleared from the cloud of various emotions which 
 disturbed him. They were two : he was unwilling to ^eave his 
 cousin Diana, and he entertained a lurking mistrust of Mr. 
 Throgmorton Toms. 
 
 As to his cousin, he was fain to confess that his being in 
 England or Utojiia did not seem likely to aft'ect her conduct one 
 bit. From the various reports which reached him, she was 
 undoubtedly carrying on as violent a flirtation with Colonel 
 Mannering now as she had carried on with Count Marini last 
 season, and with young Tierce the season before. Sir Henry 
 seemed blind to what went on before his very eyes, and deaf to 
 what was talked of in no very low tones close to his ears. What 
 little reputation was left to Diana by her exploits in London was 
 rapidly being torn to shreds in the smaller but more malicious 
 circle of society round Branscombe Hall. Ealph knew that his 
 presence was of no use, and that even if he were able to live in 
 the same house as Diana he would not be able to keep her in 
 order. Mrs. Gore did what it was possible to do, but Mrs. Gore 
 had only her salary to look to, and did not wish to risk the loss 
 of her position by quarrelling with her charge. In case of an 
 open quarrel, Mrs. Gore would not remain twenty-four hours at 
 the Hall. And Diana had no one else to stand by her and help 
 her out of any scrape she might get into. Piajj)h thought if she 
 did get into any serious scrape she might probably turn to him 
 at last. It was not likely, but it might be. Yet was this 
 slender possibility a sufficient reason for refusing Mr. Throg- 
 morton Toms' offer ? Certainly not. The contingency might 
 never arise, would most probably not arise for some time, not 
 
THE ELDORADO GOLD COMPANY (lIMITEd). 89 
 
 before lie bad returned from Utopia. So tbat objection must be 
 dismissed as invalid. Ikit tlie unwillingness to go still re- 
 mained, reason tbougli be migbt tbat it was all nonsense. 
 
 Again, wby sbould be mistrust Mr. Tbrogmorton Toms ? 
 Tbat gentleman bad belped bim a fortniglit ago wben be was in 
 desperate straits ; be was ready to belp bim again, and in 
 return only asked Ealpb to devote a portion of bis time to an 
 undertaking wbicb promised to be brilliantly lucrative. Mr. 
 Toms bad made no secret of bis motives : be Avisbed to obtain 
 tlie belp .of llalpli's brains, energy, and youtb. Tbese motives 
 seemed to tbe owner of tbe brains amply sufficient. Tberefore, 
 wben Ralpb puslied aside tbe lieavy folding doors on tbe follow^- 
 ing afternoon be bad decided to accept Mr. Toms' offer, and to 
 sail for Utopia at tbe sbortest notice. 
 
 Tbe majority of tbe members of tbe Council of tbe Eldorado 
 Gold Co. (Limited) were assembled wben Ralpli entered tbe 
 Board-room. For tbe purposes of tliis story it is not necessary 
 to introduce tbe reader to tbem in detail. It will suffice to say 
 tbat tbe Riglit Hon. tbe Earl ot Dingleford, a pompous but 
 extremely feeble old gentleman, was in tbe cbair, and tbat tbe 
 members of tbe Board all seemed to take tbeir cue entirely from 
 Mr. Tbrogmorton Toms, wbo sat on tbe riglit of tbe cbairman. 
 Ralpb was introduced, all tbe directors in succession sbook 
 bands witb bim, mumbling sometbing or otlier, tbe cbairman 
 feebly smiled, and tbe business of tbe day was proceeded witb. 
 Mr. Toms said tbat IMr. Ealpb Branscombe, nepbew of Sir 
 Henry Branscombe, of Branscombe Hall, bad agreed to join tbe 
 Board, and bad applied for one tbousand sbares, wbicb bad just 
 been allotted to bim. He added tbat Mr. Branscombe was 
 willing to go out to Catliay on bebalf of tbe Company in order 
 to superintend operations and assist tbeir good friend tbe Marquis 
 de Castellos y Espana. On tliis a swartby gentleman, wdtb 
 very busby black eyebrows, a close sbaven cbin, a moustacbe 
 of formidable dimensions waxed to two sbarp points, and 
 wearing a parti-coloured ribbon at bis button-bole, rose and 
 bowed. 
 
90 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 "When (Iocs Mr. Branscombe sail?" asked General Wraffc- 
 nuif, an elderly man with white hair, military whiskers, a high 
 collar, and an extremely red nose. 
 
 "Well," answered Mr, Toms, " wc ought to be out to- 
 morrow or Friday at latest, and we shall know how things arc 
 going by Tuesday next. He might sail by the steamer of 
 the loth." 
 
 " How will Ihings go ? " feebly murmured the chairman. 
 
 ** My lord, 'tis not in mortals to command success," replied 
 Mr. Toms, pursing up his round lips to his sweetest smile, 
 "but I may say in the strictest coniidence that I have not the 
 slightest doubt that our capital will be subscribed for many 
 times over." 
 
 "Hear, hear," exclaimed Mr. John James Smith and Colonel 
 Wragenutf, while Sir Balbriggan Hose said, " Divil doubt ye,' 
 and the chairman smiled. 
 
 "Then shall we say the 15th, Mr. Branscombe?" asked 
 IMalcolm of Porrig, a tall, gaunt, red-haired man, who, like the 
 General, was unfortunate as to his nose. 
 
 *•' It is rather soon," Ralph ventured to say. 
 
 " You can safely leave the arrangements to me, my lord and 
 gentlemen," suggested Mr. Toms, suavely. " I will settle 
 matters with my young kinsman." 
 
 ** Certainly, certainly ; leave 'rangements to Toms, leave 
 'ranjrcments to Toms," mumbled the noble chairman. 
 
 " Shall I draw up a resolution to that effect, my lord ? " asked 
 the Secretary. 
 
 "Yes, better be in order," answered Mr. Throgmorton Toms, 
 not waiting for the Chairman's answer. 
 
 "For? Against? Carried," murmured the latter. 
 
 " Anything more, Mr. Toms ? " inquired the General. 
 
 " Only a few cheques to sign," replied the Secretary. 
 
 This formality was soon completed, and Ralph noticed that 
 several of the Board took the piece of pink paper tendered to 
 them with much alacrity. Ralph was surprised at receiving a 
 cheque for two guineas. 
 
THE ELDORADO GOLD COMPANY (LIMITED ). 91 
 
 He looked inquiringly at Mr. Toms, while the others were 
 taking their hats. 
 
 " Wait a minute, Ralph," said the City man. " I must speak 
 to you." 
 
 Ealph waited. When the members of the Board had all gone 
 he inquired what the two guineas were for. 
 
 " Attendance fee," answered Mr. Toms. " You get two 
 guineas every time you come. You don't mind that, do you ? " 
 
 "No, I don't," answered Ealph, "but I don't think my 
 presence is worth it." 
 
 "Fudge," answered Mr. Toms. "But now look here; 
 you had better go back to Brown, Holland, & Co. and give 
 them notice for the 14th, then come up West and dine with me 
 at the Colonnade Club at seven sharp ; we've a lot to settle." 
 
 " Thanks," said Ralph, also departing. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE LITTLE DINNER. 
 
 OUR hero reached his 
 office he found that 
 both the jjrincipals had 
 left for the day ; ho 
 was therefore obliged 
 to postpone the an- 
 nouncement of his in- 
 tention until the mor- 
 row. 
 
 The Colonnade was 
 not a very exclusive 
 club, and Ralph was 
 therefore at once 
 ushered into the hand- 
 some reading-room, where his host was sitting with a gentleman 
 whom he recognised as a member of the Board. "Mr. Black, 
 of Black Brothers," said Mr. Toms. "We will talk over 
 business after dinner," he added; "meanwhile Mr. Black can 
 tell you a good deal about the country and what you ought to 
 take with you." 
 
 The dinner was excellent, though rather too long. Mr. 
 Throgmorton Toms seemed j)articularly anxious that Ralph 
 should try every bin in the Club cellar, and strongly urged 
 just one glass of this particular Madeira, one of that special 
 Heidsieck, a taste of this extraordinary Romanee, and just a sip 
 of wonderful '34 port, till our hero soon thought that he had had 
 quite enough. Meanwhile Mr. Black had been painting the 
 attractions of Cathay in colours so enchanting that he felt quite 
 anxious to start at once. After dinner they adjourned to the 
 
THE LITTLE DINIS'EK. 93 
 
 smoking-room, wliorc coffee, cigars, and numerous liqueurs were 
 served. Though Ralph had taken a great deal of wine he had 
 his wits sufficiently ahout him to repeat an inquiry he had 
 already made at dinner. This was the question as to what he 
 was to do when he got to Cathay. 
 
 *' Look after the Marquis," commenced Mr. Black, with a half- 
 drunken wink. 
 
 " Don't talk nonsense. Black," said Mr. Toms, who was as 
 soher as a judge. " The Marquis is a gentleman and an honest 
 man, and requires no one to look after him." 
 
 "Of course not, I beg his pardon," sneered Mr. Black. 
 
 " Hold your tongue," again said Mr. Toms. " Mr. Brans- 
 combe is quite right ; we must tell him what he has to do, and 
 we may as well tell him now as next week, eh ? " 
 
 "Certainly," assented Ralph. "The sooner the better. I 
 shall be able to prepare and coach myself up." 
 
 " Oh, it docs not want much preparation," sneered Mr. Black 
 again. 
 
 Mr. Throgmorton Toms paid no further attention to his 
 colleague, who had evidently partaken too freely. 
 
 "First of all," he said, turning to Ralph, " here is a cheque 
 on account. You will want it, never mind for what," and he 
 nodded significantly towards Mr. Black. Ralph glanced at the 
 cheque, which was for five hundred pounds, and put it into his 
 pocket. 
 
 " Now," continued Mr. Throgmorton Toms, " when you get 
 ■out to Utopia you will go up country and will examine the sands of 
 the Cathay River. Of course the machinery will not be there 
 vet, and the results will at first be disappointing." 
 
 " How shall I analyse the sands ? " asked Ralph. 
 
 " Oh," replied the financier, " you will be supplied M'itli a case 
 of chemicals, including acids and reagents, and all the apparatus, 
 with instructions how to use them." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Ralph. 
 
 "You sec," continued Mr. Toms, "it is very important that 
 one of the Board should himself investigate matters. The 
 public is sick of chemists and geologists and experts generally. 
 
94 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 "What we want is an unbiassed common-sense opinion. You are 
 a lai'f^e shareliolder and a director, so everyone will trust you." 
 
 *' I hope so," replied Ealpb. " At any rate, I will do my best."' 
 
 ** Of course, of course," assented the other. " Well, you 
 being a director, and expecting a good deal of the place, will 
 naturally be disappointed when you find that your first spadeful 
 of sand gives little or no gold." 
 
 "But if I am not to expect much gold till the drcdging^ 
 machines arrive," interrupted Ealph, *' why should I be dis- 
 appointed? " 
 
 " You n-'dl be disappointed," repeated Mr. Throgmorton 
 Toms, almost angrily; " at any rate, you must be disappointed. 
 Y^'ou will telegraph home from Utopia (there is a telegraph-ofiice 
 there) that you are disappointed, and that you have not found 
 any gold at all." 
 
 '* But supposing I have found gold ? " 
 
 "Don't be afraid," Mr. Throgmorton jToms smiled, pursing 
 up his little mouth; "you won't find any. Well, when your 
 telegi-am comes, of course the newspapers will get hold of it — 
 newspapers always get hold of things — and the city articles will 
 all say that the Eldorado mines are a great disappointment, and 
 the shares will go down to next to nothing." 
 
 " That will be a gi-eat misfortune, will it not ?" asked Ealph. 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! How young you are ! Just listen. We shall 
 buy every share we can lay our hands on — some for you as well ; 
 very likely I shall be able to get them for sixpence or a shilling 
 ^ach." 
 
 " Perhaps for less," muttered Mr. Black, who was listening 
 approvingly. 
 
 "Next," continued Mr. Throgmorton Toms, warming to his 
 subject, " your machines will arrive, and you will find that your 
 saud contains quantities of gold, great lumps in fact. So of coul-se 
 you Avill telegraph again that you are very agreeably surprised, 
 and that there is lots of gold, and as the telegram comes from n 
 director who is a large shareholder, it will be in the papers again 
 and everyone will believe it." 
 
 " But supposing I don't find the gold ? " urged Ealph. 
 
THE LITTLE DINXEIl. 95 
 
 ** But I tell you, you irill find it ! And then tlie shares will 
 go up, very likely to a couple of pounds premium, and we shall 
 unload them all on the puhlic, and collar the lot." 
 
 " You mean that you will sell the shares for a great deal more 
 than you gave for them, and will make a large profit ? " asked 
 Ealph. 
 
 " Precisely," answered Mr. Toms, " and of course I shall buy 
 a few thousand for you at sixpence or a shilling, and sell them 
 for you at a couple of pounds. That's only fair, and that will he 
 in addition to your fee." 
 
 "But," again argued Ralph, who had not yet grasped the 
 scheme, " what if things don't quite happen as you wish." 
 
 ** What do you mean ? " inquired Mr. Toms. 
 
 " I mean, what if I find a little gold at first, and no more afti)r- 
 wards ? Then I shan't be able to send the telegrams 3'ou require." 
 
 " But I tell you, my dear fellow, that you 2con't find any at 
 first, and 2cill find lots when you start at the right place with the 
 machines." 
 
 " But how can you bo so sure of it ? " 
 
 " Why, upon my word, I never thought you were so dense," 
 cried ]\Ir. Throgmorton Toms. " Don't you understand ! I 
 don't suppose there's an ounce of gold in the whole of Cathay, 
 except what we send there." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Ralph. 
 
 ** Yes : don't you see ? You won't find any at first, and you 
 telegraph home. Very well. Wlien the machines come you 
 start at a certain place the Marquis will show you, and then the 
 first buckets will be full of gold. It is not my business to say 
 how it will get there, but it u-ill be there, you may take your 
 oath of that. Then you telegraph home the result of 3-0 ur tests, 
 and come back by the next steamer. Your mission will have 
 been accomplished. You will only have to receive two or three 
 or ma}-- be ten thousand pounds, as the case may be." 
 
 Notwithstanding the fumes of the wine, Ralph at last under- 
 stood. 
 
 "What! " he almost shouted, leaping to his feet, "you Avant 
 me to help you in this infernal swindle ? " 
 
96 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 *' Be quiet, mrai ! " exclaimed Mr. Toms, seizing his coat and 
 endeavouring to pull him down again. "Dou't use such 
 language here, the fellows are staring at you." 
 
 " Let them stare," exclaimed Ralph, impetuously. ** "Wliat ! 
 the mines are non-existent, the whole thing is a huhhle, and you 
 want me to go out for a paltry thousand and enrich you and youv 
 fellow-rogues hy fictitious telegrams ! " 
 
 *' You are using much stronger language than the occasioti 
 warrants, young man," said ]\Ir. Throgmortou Toms, assuming 
 an air of injured innocence, *' and you forget that you are in a 
 very difficult position." 
 
 " My position he d d!" cried Ealph, now thoroughly roused. 
 
 ** You infernal scoundrel ! Here, take your money," and he 
 cast the cheque on the sofa. '* Tell your Board of idiots and 
 rogues that I won't disgrace myself by sitting down with them 
 again. And if you dare to i3rint my name as one of your 
 s^dndling Directors, I'll show j-ou up, poor as I am." 
 
 *' Remember your Avord of honour ! " exclaimed Mr. Toms, 
 alarmed. " You staked your word not to mention this affair to 
 a living soul." 
 
 " Nor will I," said Ealph, '' unless you make use of my name. 
 Carry on your dirty tricks if you can find fools enough. 
 Faugh ! your dinner and your wine make me sick when I think 
 what you expected of me." 
 
 ** There is nothing to be angry about, old man," said Mr. 
 Toms, reassured now he saw that Kalph would not betray him. 
 ** A gentleman proposes a matter of business to another, and the 
 latter declines, that's all. Perhaps you will reconsider it and 
 take up that cheque again. You'd better," 
 
 " Never. Not if it were for a million ! May you have the ill- 
 luck you deserve ! " 
 
 And with these words Ralph stalked out of the smoking-room 
 of the Colonnade Club, provoking the remark from some of 
 the members present that the gentleman must have dined too 
 freclv. 
 
"3 
 
 (0 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 a? 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE IIOLBORN VALE STAGHOUNDS. 
 
 SAINTS BURY 
 SNUFFBOX has 
 been more than 
 once mentioned 
 in the course of 
 this narrative, 
 and it is now 
 necessary to de- 
 scribe more fully 
 the functions he 
 fulfilled, and the 
 reasons, good or 
 bad, of Sir Henry 
 Branscombc's at- 
 tack upon the 
 poor little gen- 
 tleman. Mr. Saintsbury Snuffbox was not really christened 
 Saintsbury, nor was his family name Snuffbox, but he had 
 acquired the nickname in this wise. The Holborn Vale Stag- 
 hounds, of which he was secretary, were appointed to meet 
 close to the little town of Saintsbury, the very place where our 
 friend, the Rev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson delivered his fifty-ninth 
 lecture on English pronunciation. Theworthy secretary had 
 arranged in the ordinary manner for a special train from town, 
 so hounds and deer, as well as the sportsmen, were conveyed 
 from London by rail. The secretary was above all things a 
 riding man, but next to his fondness for horses he was most 
 fond of queer bits of old china, and other objects of virtii — a 
 mania which had seized him long before the late rage for blue 
 and white was invented. On the way from Saintsbury Station 
 
98 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 to the meet lie observed a peculiar old snuffbox in a curiosity 
 shop. His attention was attracted by it, and without getting off 
 his horse he enquired the price, and jogged on to the meet, re- 
 volving in his mind whether the coveted article was worth the 
 sum asked. On his way back from a good run he decided in 
 favour of the snuffbox, and hastily dashed into the shop, for the 
 train was waiting. He called repeatedly, but no one came ; and 
 unwilling to lose so unusual a chance of obtaining a really valu- 
 able article for a trifling price, he stood for a moment hesitating. 
 He was bound to lose either the snuff'box or the train ; and 
 finally, to save both, seized the former, and dashed into the 
 latter. Of course he intended to send the money next day; 
 but the shopman appeared on the scene just as the train was 
 leaving the station, and knowing nothing of the stranger, nor 
 willing to give him credit taken in so abrupt a fashion, he at 
 once communicated w-ith the local police. The telegraph was 
 set to work, Scotland Yard was informed, and at North London 
 Junction, where tickets were collected, a detective with a police- 
 man in uniform appeared to meet the Saintsbury train. He 
 was at once bailed by his friends, and the matter was cleared up 
 next morning. But on that day he became Saintsbury Snuff- 
 box, and the name clung to him ever since. 
 
 The Holborn Vale Staghounds have had an uphill fight to 
 secure a country within reasonable distance of London, and are 
 often obliged to go far afield. Then, their covert hack is the 
 express train of the IMidland, North Western, or Great Western 
 Piailway. Their head- quarters are double. The hounds and 
 horses are kept at Nazcby on the North Road ; but, what is no 
 less important, their rendezvous, the source from which much 
 of the social enjoyments of the hunt is derived, is not a hundred 
 miles from Oxford Street, and is called " The Grey Mare 
 Hotel." Thence on every hunt day issue hampers containing 
 long-necked, gold-corked bottles, huge stone jugs, capacious 
 pies, which conceal in their recesses the savoury flesh of the 
 ox, the goose, and the pigeon, while to these are added large 
 Yorkshire hams, crisp rolls, and v/hitc napkins. Where these 
 
THE HOLBORX VALE STAGHOUNDS. 99 
 
 delicacies go and what finally becomes of tliem will hereinafter 
 appear. For the present, suffice it to say that though Nazeby is 
 the nominal centre of the hunt, " The Grey Mare Hotel " is the 
 real one, for it is here that arrangements are made with friendly 
 farmers for a "turn-out," and that funds are distributed with no 
 stingy hands to those who think that their fences have been 
 spoilt or their crops injured. 
 
 The Holborn Vale Staghounds are among the finest and the 
 fastest in England. Until a few years of the date of our story 
 they followed the drag only, and were selected entirely for speed, 
 as sufficiently strong scent was provided for them, and a very 
 blunt nose was good enough. In those days the outsider who 
 heard that the Holborn Vale were going to meet near his place, and 
 who was beguiled by the proximity of the rendezvous to join in 
 the chase of the wily herring, was more surprised than pleased at 
 the pace with which hounds went away, and at his inabilit}'' to 
 keep up with them. It was a matter of honour for Mr. 
 Fitzurse, the gallant Master, to face all the big jumps which the 
 finny denizen of the deep had taken before him, and not to 
 sneak through gates and gaps. Very few men in England and 
 scarcely a woman could ride straight with Mr. Fitzurse. When 
 a well-known steeplechase jockey, mounted on a Grand National 
 winner, made the attempt, he only broke his collar-bone, and some 
 of the places which the Master successfull}' negotiated on these 
 occasions would have been pronounced absolutely impossible by 
 the hardest riders from the shires. Those who laid the drag 
 were practised hands, and knew what they were about. 
 
 But of late years the members of the Holborn Vale Hunt had 
 started a herd of deer which they kept at Nazeby, and they 
 turned one down whenever a farmer gave them house-room and 
 permission to do so. It may be enquired why they required house- 
 room. This is where the hampers from the " Grey Mare " 
 come in. They were sent on to the appointed meet, and when 
 the field arrived, its members found a lavish breakfast laid out 
 for them. Bankshire, with its wide pastures and formidable 
 fences, was a particularly favourite county for the Holborn Vale 
 
 u 2 
 
100 FAIil DIANA. 
 
 Hounds ; and of late years special trains had been frequently 
 chartered, and deer, hounds, horses, hunt servants, field, and 
 breakfast travelled down together amicably fifty or sixty miles 
 from the metropolis. 
 
 Sir Henry Branscombe swore that when they last turned down 
 near Warboro' seven sheep out of one of his fields were destroyed. 
 Sir Henry proceeded to bring an action against all the members 
 whose names he could ascertain, but the action was dismissed, as 
 the evidence was very weak, and on the evening of the trial three 
 of Sir Henry's finest ricks were burned to the ground. The 
 worthy baronet stoutly asserted that this Avas the work of the 
 followers of the Holborn Vale. But nothing supported such an 
 accusation ; on the contrary, none were more vexed at the mis- 
 fortune than the Holborn Vale men themselves, and it was rejected 
 as unfounded by the majority of those who in other respects did 
 not approve of that hunt. As a matter of fact, the Holborn Vale 
 cared very much about the friendliness of landowners, and tried 
 very hard to obtain permission for their land to be galloped over. 
 Of course, where the Holborn Vale hounds went, the members 
 of the Holborn Vale Hunt followed, but every endeavour was 
 made to do as little harm as possible. At times an irate farmer 
 had seized the bridle of an energetic sportsman, and some, par- 
 ticularly in the neighbourhood of Warboro', turned out with a 
 posse of labourers to stop the intrusion. But Mr. Fitzurse, 
 keen-scented as his hounds, generally heard of the proposed 
 opposition, and sagely altered the meet rather than provoke open 
 hostility. "Warboro' Vale had been the scene of one of the 
 longest runs of the Holborn Vale Staghounds shortly before our 
 story opens. On this dny they were less successful than usual. 
 Scent was catchy, and finally the deer was lost. For some days 
 he remained in an outlying covert belonging to Sir Henry 
 Branscombe, Avhosc anger was aroused more than ever when, on 
 his arrival from London, he heard of what he called acts of 
 trespass. The deer had run across several fields of wheat and 
 seeds, which, said the baronet, had been much trampled on ; 
 and when Saintsbury Snuff"box addressed him in the manner 
 
N 
 
THE HOLBORN VALE STAGHOUNDS. 101 
 
 already related, the old gentleman could not restrain his fury. 
 "Worse, however, was to follow. The members of the Holhorn 
 Vale Hunt were of course not inclined to give up the deer as lost. 
 Within forty-eight hours of the meet at Barkeley Wood a special 
 train disgorged about twenty gentlemen on Warboro' platform, 
 while a dozen horse-boxes were shunted back on to the siding to 
 allow the steeds to leave the train. The men were most 
 elaborately dressed in approved scarlet, with " H. V. H." 
 artistically entwined on bright gilt buttons, hats as smooth 
 as Lincoln & Bennett could produce, boots as shiny as Day & 
 Martin's blacking could make them, and tops as creamy as the 
 produce of the purest Alderney. One nobleman — Lord Kilmain- 
 ham, whose hunting in Ireland had been stopped in consequence 
 of the Land League opposition — used to patronise the Holhorn 
 Vale Staghounds. He accompanied the party to Warboro', 
 where INIr. Saintsbury Snuffbox met them on the platform with 
 a very distressful countenance. 
 
 " "Wliat is the matter. Snuffbox ? " cried Mr. Fitzurse as soon 
 as he saw the doleful looks of the secretary. 
 
 "Bad job, sir," replied Snuffbox. "Things look very bad 
 down here." 
 
 "What, is the deer killed ? " asked the Master, anxiously. 
 
 " No, but Sir Henry Branscombe has been kicking up an 
 awful row, and blackguarding me all over the place. He won't 
 let us ride over his land." 
 
 " That's a nuisance, as our deer is there," exclaimed the 
 Master. " I don't like to take French leave. Does he know we 
 are coming ? I told you to keep it dark." 
 
 " And I kept it dark enough," answered Snuffbox, " and ho 
 has no idea that we are coming down to-day. I have not told 
 it to a soul ; but he swore that he would prosecute every one of 
 us if we rode over his land again." 
 
 " I don't think he will try that on again in a hurry," laughed 
 Mr. Fetlock, the well-known dealer. " He had enough of it last 
 time. But we would much rather not ride across his place if we 
 were not obliged." 
 
102 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 "And lie has locked all the gates," continued Snuffbox. 
 
 *' Then we will jump them," returned the Master. " You are 
 not afraid, are you ? " 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Snuffbox, "I would rather not bo seen 
 riding to hounds to-day. I am a resident down here, you know, 
 and Sir Henry might make it very disagreeable for me." 
 
 "Nonsense, old man," exclained Mr. Fitzurse. "You must 
 come along with us, or you will lose your appointment, by Jove ! 
 A secretary should always bo to the front, and I'll do you the 
 justice to say that you generally are. And you will see Sir 
 Henry and try and arrange matters with him, won't you, 
 my lord ? " turning to Lord Kilmainham, who was listening to 
 the conversation. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I will see him," answered his lordship, somewhat 
 hesitatingly. "It is all right, Snuffbox; come along with us. 
 Only let us be particularly careful of wheat and seeds." 
 
 Snuffbox unwillingly consented, resolving in his own mind to 
 give them the slip at the first opportunity. 
 
 Soon Warboro' was astonished, and its small boys delighted 
 by a procession of horsemen more gaily attired than the 
 followers of the Bankshire Hounds. The cavalcade proceeded 
 up a series of cross country lanes to Grubbin Wood, where the 
 deer had, according to report, been last seen. 
 
CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 SIR HENRY IS SURPRISED. 
 
 Sir Henry Branscombe, Colonel Maunering and Diana wer3 
 quietly jogging along a green lane towards Miles' farm. 
 
 " I must go in and have a cbat with Miles," said Sir Henry, 
 " so you and Di just jog up and down the road while I am inside. 
 I shall not be long." 
 
 Sir Henry and his groom disappeared round the ricks, while 
 the Colonel and the young lady sauntered along by the side of 
 the lane. 
 
 " I shall have to go up to town next week," said the Colonel. 
 " I really cannot afford to stop any longer." 
 
 " I wish you were not going," answered Diana. 
 
 " So do I indeed, my darling," rej)lied the Colonel, lowering 
 his voice and drawing his horse close up to Diana's. " But I am 
 not master of my own actions." 
 
 "I should have thought you might have done as you pleased," 
 returned the young lady. " If you want to stay so much, I do not 
 see why you should not." 
 
 " I cannot explain everything to you, but unfortunately it is so. 
 I must go back to London to carry on the work of my appoint- 
 ment. Surely you can understand that ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Diana, ** I quite understand that you 
 must do your work as Assistant Adjutant- General or whatever 
 the title is. But " 
 
 " But what ? " asked the Colonel. 
 
 Diana bit her lip. What she would have liked to say was that 
 she could not understand why Colonel Mannering, having unmis- 
 takably told her that he loved her intensely, did not speak to her 
 uncle and formally propose. She had neither a mother nor a 
 brother to appeal to, and now the Colonel had been making love 
 to her for weeks, and had been demonstrating his affection by 
 
104 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 every means excepting the ones lie ought as a man of honour 
 to have adopted, her heart sunk at the thought of his going away 
 without any further declaration. He seemed, however, to guess 
 something of Avhat Avas passing in her mind, for he went on — 
 
 " Diana, dear, you know I adore you more than anyone in the 
 world. There is no Moman living who can hold a candle to j'ou, 
 and I think I am not quite without hope, am I ? " and he 
 attempted to take her hand. 
 
 She drew it away. 
 
 " Frank, after what has passed between us it is an insult to 
 ask me whether I care about 3'ou. You know I do, a great deal 
 too much. I wish I did not." 
 
 " Diana, my beloved, all I ask of you is to trust me," said the 
 Colonel, imploringly. *' "Wait. Be patient. There are circum- 
 stances which I cannot explain to you, but which prevent my 
 now doing more than asking you to trust me and to continue to 
 love me. Can you ? Will you ? " 
 
 At that moment the tctc-a-tctc Avas interrupted by the approach 
 of a horseman whom they soon recognised as Mr. Stokes. He 
 raised his hat and pulled up his powerful cob. 
 
 "Miss Di," he called out, "the Holborn Vale are drawing 
 Barkeley Wood, and I expect the deer will make for the downs. 
 Come on and have a gallop — you and the Colonel." 
 
 Diana's eyes sparkled and she suddenly threw ofi" the languor 
 which had been stealing over her. 
 
 " Sir Henry is close by at Miles' farm," interposed Colonel 
 Mannering. " "We are waiting for him." 
 
 " Then we must get Sir Henry to go home by Batch "Wood," 
 said Stokes, " or he will come across them as sure as fate." 
 
 "Oh, dear, I hope not," exclaimed Diana, " and I should so 
 like to have a gallop ! We do not get one more than once in a 
 blue moon with the Bankshirc. Do you not think we might go, 
 Colonel Mannering?" asked she, turning to her companion. 
 
 " Sir Henry is so vexed with the Holborn Vale people," 
 answered he, " that I fear that we should make him very angry 
 if we were to ride with .them." 
 
SIR HENRY IS SURPRISED. 105 
 
 "But I do so want to go," urged Diana. "Could not avo 
 manage it somehow ? " 
 
 "I tell you what," said Stokes, after a moment's reflection ; 
 " if the Colonel here does not care about it, let him go and wait 
 for Sir Henry and take the old gentleman home by Batch Wood, 
 and you come along with me, Miss. We will find them, I warrant. 
 We will have a good gallop and be back at the Hall before the 
 Governor knows anything about it." 
 
 Diana flushed with eagerness. *' Will you do this for mo ? " 
 she asked Colonel Mannering. 
 
 The gallant officer knew how to turn the circumstance to his 
 own advantage. " For your sake," said he, in rather a low voice, 
 "I will try to get your uncle to go home the other way, and it is 
 for your sake that I will not go with the Holborn Vale hounds, 
 much as I should like the gallop. He would never forgive me if 
 he found me out, and I should not dare to show my face here 
 again." 
 
 " Thank you," exclaimed Diana, turning her horse's head. 
 " I will trust you," she added significantly. 
 
 "Come along, Miss," said Stokes, "there ain't no time to 
 lose. And hi ! Colonel ! tell the Governor that that little plan- 
 tation by the turnpike gate wants looking to. That will make 
 him go round by Batch Wood fast enough." 
 
 In another minute Stokes and Diana were cantering down the 
 lane at the rate of ten miles an hour, while the Colonel slowly 
 rode back towards ]Miles' farm. 
 
 "Where is Di ? " asked the Baronet astonished, when, 
 after some twenty minutes' delay, he emerged from the home- 
 stead. 
 
 Colonel INIannering had had plenty of time to cook up a 
 plausible story. "I believe she hns gone round to see some of 
 her pensioners in the village," answered he. " She got tired of 
 waiting." 
 
 " Is she alone ? " asked the Baronet, a little surprised. 
 
 " One of your farmers came up the lane. Sir Henry. I do not 
 quite know the man's name, but I am sure he is a tenant of 
 
106 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 yours. She said she would rido on with hJni, and he would do 
 what she wanted." 
 
 " Oh, very well," Sir Henry said, " Ave will go on. I daresay 
 we shall meet her if we ride down Barkelcy Wood lane." 
 
 This was the very road which the Colonel wished to avoid. 
 
 "Miss Branscombe said something about the plantation at 
 Batch Wood wanting looking to, and suggested that you should 
 go back that way." 
 
 " By Jove, so it does," exclaimed the Baronet. "I forgot all 
 about that," and he turned his horse's head and rode in the 
 direction indicated. Everything so far was going on well, and 
 the Colonel hoped that nothing untoward would disturb the 
 smooth current of events. But when they turned out of the 
 turnpike road into Batch "Wood lane, the Colonel noticed a 
 spotted object moving rapidly up and down the hedgerow, and 
 then another and another. He muttered an inaudible curse. " I 
 am afraid those blessed hounds are there after all," thought he. 
 
 "Dear me, what is that?" exclaimed the short-sighted Sir 
 Henry, adjusting his eyeglass. "Whose dogs are those?" 
 And hurrying on, Sir Henry found some seven or eight couples 
 of hounds feathering along the hedge side. " Thompson's harriers, 
 I suppose," he called out. " Brought them out for an airing, 
 I expect. They must have got away and be on something or 
 other. Wind him," cried out the worthy baronet, rising in his 
 stirrups, " good dogs. Get to him, get to him." And he con- 
 tinued to cheer them on lustily, while the hounds hunted up the 
 hedgerow, occasionally breaking through the fence, but always 
 returning again to the lane, and evidently trying to make out a 
 cold scent. "What on earth are they hunting ?" asked the 
 Baronet, puzzled, as the hounds hit it off and tore up the lane 
 straight for Batch AYood. " It cannot be a hare." 
 
 Colonel Mannering knew well enough what it was, and was very 
 anxious to get the Baronet off the drag. " Oh, leave them alone, 
 Sir Henry. I dare say they are only a few stray couples of Mr. 
 Thompson's hounds." 
 
 "Oh, but you know we cannot let Thompson's harriers hunt 
 
SIR HENRY IS SURPRISED. 107 
 
 the country loose," answered the Baronet pomting along the road. 
 *' They must have got away from his man, I suppose. But I 
 never saw a hare nor a rabbit run straight along the road like 
 this. I wonder if they have got on a fox, though it does not look 
 much like a fox either," he added reflectively, seeing the hounds 
 turn away suddenly to the left through an open gate. " A fox 
 would have gone for the wood. Curious thing this." But an 
 explanation followed very difterent from that which the Baronet 
 expected. A crash of music came from the other side of the 
 hedge, and another half-dozen couples of hounds burst into the 
 lane, crossed it, and followed their leaders through the gate. 
 Next was heard a cheery cry of " forrard, forrard, forrard away," 
 and a man with a brickdust-coloured face, a plum-coloured coat, 
 no gloves nor collar, and extremely dirty brown breeches, cleared 
 the big blackthorn hedge and landed in the lane within ten yards 
 of the astonished Sir Henry. Our friend Snuffbox, for it was no 
 other, was scarcely less surprised than Sir Henry himself, but 
 the pace was too good for conversation. Hounds were running 
 some way ahead, and after hesitating for less than half a second. 
 Snuffbox dashed through the gate after them. Before Sir Henry 
 had recovered the use of his voice two other gentlemen came 
 over the hedge almost abreast, both faultlessly attired in bright 
 pink and white breeches, though the latter, as well as their 
 whilom shining boots, showed signs of their having had a gallop. 
 Mr. Fitzurse landed in the lane furthest away from the 
 Baronet, whom he at once recognised. He raised his hat, but 
 never paused for an instant, nor turned to the gate, but jumped 
 the big post and rails exactly opposite, and rode away at the rate 
 of fifty miles an hour. Lord Kilmainham, the second horseman, 
 was not so quick, and having come over nearer the Baronet, the 
 latter was able to stop him. 
 
 "I am ashamed of you, my lord," called out Sir Henry. 
 " I am surprised that a nobleman should ride over people's land 
 in this way." 
 
 Lord Kilmainham stopped. He was not anxious for an 
 encounter with Sir Henry Branscombe, but he was too much of 
 
108 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 a gentleman to gallop awaj' from him. " It was only this 
 morning," he replied hesitatingly, " that I heavtl you ohjected to 
 our hunting, Sir Henry." 
 
 " I do not, sir, ohject to legitimate hunting, but I will not 
 have your pack of dogs, and all those fellows who come from no 
 one laiows where, riding over my fields and destroying my 
 farmers' crops. I have said so more than once, and I shall now 
 bring an action against you." 
 
 " I thought that as we paid for all damage done, and did as little 
 as we could, Sir Henry, you were now willing to allow us to ride 
 over your land," expostulated Lord Kilmaiuham. 
 
 " Who told you that. Sir ? It is an infernal lie," roared Sir 
 Henry. 
 
 By this time his lordship had quite recovered his composure, 
 and answered calmly, " I thought it must be true. Sir Henry, 
 because several of j'our farmers and Miss Diana herself are out 
 with us to-day." 
 
 " My niece! " yelled the Baronet. " How dare you ? " and he 
 lifted up his riding whip threateningly. But his arm stiffened 
 in the air, and further words stuck in his throat, for at that 
 moment a graceful form topped the hedge and a well-known 
 thoroughbred landed safely in the lane. 
 
 " Good God, it is Diana ! " the Baronet whispered, dropping his 
 whip. So great was his astonishment and wrath that he 
 scarcely noticed poor Stokes, Avho had crept through a handy 
 gap a few yards further up ; while the other sportsmen sneaked 
 through the gate behind his back and disappeared after the 
 hounds before the Baronet had recovered. In two minutes 
 more not a horseman was to be seen. Lord Kilmainham had 
 withdrawn under cover of Diana's arrival. She alone of the^field 
 thought it better to stop and face her uncle at once, than to gallop 
 on and leave the old gentleman in a violent fit of anger. 
 
 " I have had such a capital gallop, uncle," she began, quite 
 unconcernedly. 
 
 Sir Henry only looked at her blankly. He was too much 
 vexed to speak. He did not wish to scold his niece before 
 
Sm HENRY IS SURPRISED. 
 
 109 
 
 Colonel Mannering, and yet he felt that the oifence was almost 
 an unpardonable one. 
 
 *'Go on," he said to her, in a broken voice. " Go on home." 
 
 Colonel Mannering deferentially pulled his horse back to 
 remain with Sir Henry. 
 
 *' No," the old gentleman said, impatiently. " Go on with 
 her; take her home. I will come by-and-by." 
 
 Very slowly, very dejectedly did the Baronet ride through the 
 narrow lane and the row of bridle gates which led to the Hall. 
 " I do not know what to do with the girl," he muttered. 
 *' People fancy that I do not see what is going on, but I see 
 more than they give me credit for. She is a wild flirt, and she is 
 disobedient into the bargain. I must get her married as soon as 
 possible. That is the only help for it." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A VISIT TO TEE HALL. 
 
 
 
 THE morning fol- 
 lowing the dinner 
 at the Colonnade 
 Club Ralph ap- 
 plied to his prin- 
 cipals for a day's 
 leave, and obtain- 
 ed it easily for tho 
 next Saturday. On 
 Friday evening, 
 finishing his after 
 Indian mail, he 
 started by the night train for "Warboro', and before eleven o'clock 
 next day he was on Lazybones riding to the Hall. The old horse 
 was as fat as ever, and lazier, nor was Ralph disposed to urge 
 him on. For though the need of the visit to his uncle might bo 
 pressing, the step he was about to take was decidedly unpleasant. 
 Lazybones plodded along slowly, and only when he stopped to 
 nibble a bunch of grass, or to snatch a thorny twig from the 
 hedge, did Ralph give him a gentle kick as a reminder. Ho 
 ought to have been preparing a speech for delivery to his 
 uncle, instead of which he found himself thinking of his cousin 
 Diana. He could not cast off the feeling that she v.as maldng a 
 grievous mistake of her life. Some flippant remarks of his 
 sisters at breakfast had jarred on him ; they talked of her and 
 Colonel Mannering as inseparable, and yet when little Mary in- 
 nocently asked whether the two were going to be married, Regina 
 curled her lip and said, "Not likely," while Mrs. Branscombo 
 
A VISIT TO THE HALL. Ill 
 
 turned the subject. Diana was cold to him who, if he did not 
 love her passionately, was at any rate fond and honest, while she 
 was warm to others who might bring misfortune and scandal on 
 her name. 
 
 At last he arrived at the Hall, where the door was at once 
 opened by a footman who had been deeply engaged with a news- 
 paper. 
 
 " Is my uncle in ? " enquired Ralph, as he put his umbrella iu 
 the stand. 
 
 *' Sir Henry is with Mr. Toms in the study," replied the 
 man. *' Mrs. Toms is in the drawing room : they have just 
 arrived from London." 
 
 '' I will go in to my uncle," said Pialph, moving on. 
 
 '* If you please, sir," said the servant, " Sir Henry said as 
 how he was engaged with Mr. Toms, and visitors was to be 
 shown into the drawing-room." 
 
 " Oh, very well," said Ralph, much annoyed at this interrup- 
 tion, and feeling his courage rapidly oozing away. " I will wait 
 in the dining-room until Mr. Toms has done," and he passed 
 up the long gloomy apartment, by no means more comfortable 
 than he had been a few minutes ago, and almost tempted to 
 postpone the conversation altogether to a more fitting op- 
 portunity. The footman, however, must have announced him to 
 Sir Henry, for in a few minutes he returned, and holding the door 
 open said, *' This way please, sir," as if Ralj^h forsooth did not 
 know every inch of the house. Thus, Ralph was impatient and 
 humiliated before he entered his uncle's study, although probably 
 he would not have felt aggrieved if he had not been annoyed by 
 Mr. Toms' presence. 
 
 Sir Henry, who vras sitting at the table with ]\Ir. Tln-ogmorton 
 Toms, shook hands and said, " Sit do\\ii, Ralph ; I will talk to 
 you directly. Anything particular ? " 
 
 " Well, no ; well-er, yes, rather, uncle," answered Ralph. 
 
 " How do, Ralph," said Mr. Toms, extending two fingers of 
 a flabby hand which the young man pretended not to notice. 
 *' You here ? " This was his usual salutation, and was uttered 
 
112 FATR DIAXA. 
 
 with an invariable tone of surprise, as if after Wednesday 
 evening's discussion Ralpli's visit to his micle was a most extra- 
 ordinary and unheard of occurrence. 
 
 It was perfectly natural to find Mr. Toms at the Hall, and 
 yet Ralph was peculiarly irritated at meeting him there. *' Yery 
 likely the little beast has been poisoning my uncle's mind against 
 me," he thought. " Sure not to forgive me Wednesday's scene." 
 He took up the Athenaum while the two finished their con- 
 versation, which, however, turned on nothing more important 
 than repeated instructions to INIr. Toms to sell certain stock 
 and to buy other within certain limits — matters which had 
 evidently been already discussed and settled before Ralph's 
 arrival, and were now only being summarised once more for 
 greater certainty. 
 
 At last IMr. Toms rose. " I will leave you with Ralph," he 
 said. 
 
 *' Yes, Ernest," said Sir Henry ; " I suppose Lucy is in the 
 drawing-room with Diana. If Ralph docs not keep me too long 
 I will join you before luncheon." 
 
 " Yery well," said Mr. Toms, leaving the room. 
 
 "Xow," said Sir Henry, rising and going to the fireplace, 
 where he took up his usual position with his right hand on the 
 lofty mantelpiece, his right foot on the fender, and his head bent 
 down, while his eyes looked steadily into the grate, so that it 
 was impossible to detect the play of his features. " Now, Ralph, 
 what do you want ? " 
 
 There was a timid nervousness in the manner of asking this 
 question which seemed to indicate that Sir Henry suspected what 
 the answer would be, and was as unwilling as his nephew to dis- 
 cuss it. 
 
 "Well, uncle," said Ralph at last, finding he was getting no 
 assistance from Sir Henry, who continued staring steadily into 
 the fire, " I am in a great mess." 
 
 Sir Henry stooped and put a shovelful of coals on. Ralph 
 feared he would have to repeat his answer, but after a few 
 minutes his uncle said. 
 
A VISIT TO THE HALL. 113 
 
 " "What are you in a mess about ; women or money ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing to do with women, uncle," said Ralph, "only 
 money." 
 
 " Money ? " enquired Sir Henry, still not raisin^^ his head. 
 *' It was women last time, was it not ? " 
 
 " No, uncle," replied Ralph. 
 
 "I think it was," reiterated the old gentleman. 
 
 " I assure you not, Uncle Henry." 
 
 *' How much do I give you a year ? " asked t^ir Henry, suddenly 
 looldng up for an instant. 
 
 " Three hundred pounds," replied Ralph. 
 
 " Three hundred pounds ?" asked Sir Henry. 
 
 "Yes, uncle." 
 
 " Cannot you make three hundred a year do, besides your 
 pay?" and he poked the fire vigorously'. 
 
 "I am afraid not, uncle." 
 
 " How much do you want now ? " 
 
 '* That depends upon what you will give me," answered Ralph, 
 afraid to mention the figure of his liabilities. 
 
 *' It is no reason, because I am a rich man," said Sir Henry, 
 "that you should spend money recklessly and incur debts for me 
 to pay them," and he followed some sparks with his eyes as they 
 flew up the chimney. 
 
 "I know," said Ralph. 
 
 " You don't know," continued the old gentleman, " or if you 
 do, you don't act as if you did. What do you want the money 
 for ? " 
 
 " To pay my debts," blurted out Ralph. 
 
 " When did I pay them for you last '? " asked Sir Henry. 
 
 " Last year," replied our hero. 
 
 "No, that was about some lady," Sir Henry went on, and at 
 last he looked up. " Let me see, wait a minute," and Ralj)!! 
 waited, standing first on one leg and then on the other, while Sir 
 Henry went to his escritoire, and after rummaging about in the 
 papers pulled out a small vellum-covered volume, probably his 
 banker's pass-book. "Let me see," he said; and he went over the 
 
114 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 items, muttering as lie conned them over, ** Ptoyal Convalescent 
 Hospital, ;£'27 10s. ; Hughes, £40 ; Wilson, iob-master, £23 ; 
 Hospital for Incurables, .£'50 ; Birraingliam stock, £200 ; Diana's 
 nevv^ dress, £25," and so on. " Oh, here we are — ' Ralph Brans- 
 combe, £500,' " and ho looked up almost smiling. " You are 
 quite right, Ealph, it was money, not some girl. Dear me, I 
 thought it was women. I did help some one out of a scrape 
 with a lady. I really thought it was you," he repeated. "Did 
 you never get into a scrape of that sort ? To be sure you did 
 not," suddenly said Sir Henry, as his eyes lighted up. ** Of 
 course, it was not you, it was your father." 
 
 Eaiph coloured up to the roots of his hair, but his uncle, 
 apparently quite unconscious of having committed an indiscre- 
 ■iion, returned to his post by the lire, again leaning on the 
 mantel-piece, and now holding his pass-book in his left hand. 
 
 Ealph did not know whether to go on or to wait. 
 
 At last the old gentleman said, " Will you keep straight if I 
 pay your debts this time ? " 
 
 " I will," answered Ealph, stoutly. 
 
 " How much are they ? " enquired Sir Henry again. 
 
 Ealph felt that he had better tell the whole truth at once. 
 ^' Nearly a thousand pounds, uncle." 
 
 The old gentleman showed no symptoms of surprise. " A 
 thousand pounds ! It is a great deal of money," said he, quietly. 
 '"It takes a long time to make, honestly. I don't think," he 
 said, still staring at the grate, " that I have any guarantee for 
 your keeping straight if I pay your debts this time. What 
 guarantee can you give me ? " 
 
 " None but my word, uncle," replied Ealph. 
 
 "You have broken that already." 
 
 Ealph winced. " I know I have." 
 
 "Well," continued Sir Henry, "it appears that you cannot 
 make four hundred a jeav do. Now what can you as a bachelor 
 live on ? " 
 
 " I really don't know," answered Ealph. 
 
 "Let me see," said Sir Henry. "If I give you a thousand 
 
A VISIT TO THE HALL. 115 
 
 noAV, 3'Ou will liavc spent one way and another aljout £1-100 this 
 year." 
 
 " Not quite so much as that, uncle. Some of them are old 
 dehts." 
 
 " Well, never mind, nearly £1400. Now, I cannot afford to 
 give you £1400 a year, nor anything like it, for you to waste on 
 society. You go into a good deal of society, don't you ? " 
 
 "Yes, I go out a good deal," answered Ealph. "Well, 
 society and races, and drags and horses, and that sort of thing." 
 
 " I like my nephew to ride to hounds. No money lenders ? " 
 
 " Well, there are a couple." 
 
 " That is very bad," said Sir Henry, gravely. "It is very 
 foolish to put yourself in the hands of these blood-suckers. 
 Every pound you borrow from a money lender costs me five. 
 Don't do it again. Promise me that solemnly." 
 
 " I will, uncle. I will not go near a money lender again if 
 you will help me this time." 
 
 " Wait a minute," said Sir Henry, thoughtfully. " I am not 
 sure that I shall help you." 
 
 Pk,alph's heart sank within him. Was all this cross-examina- 
 tion and re-examination to lead to nothing ? Was this painfal 
 interview to be in vain ? 
 
 Sir Henry continued to stare into the fire for a time, which 
 seemed to Ptalph to be an hour. Ho said nothing, but occasional!}'' 
 looked into his pass-book. At last he spoke. " You must give 
 me some guarantee that you v/ill not get into debt again, and I 
 will increase your allowance." 
 
 " Thank you, uncle," said Ealph; " any guarantee you like to 
 mention." 
 
 " I think the best guarantee will be," said Sir Henry, very 
 slowly, "that yon should marry Diana." 
 
 Pi,alph's heart leaped to his mouth. "Marry Diana!" he 
 exclaimed. Then after a pause, " But she won't have me, 
 uncle." 
 
 "Have you asked her ? " enquired Sir Henry, looking up 
 sharply. 
 
 I 2 
 
IIG FAIR DIANA. 
 
 *' No, uncle, Ibut- 
 
 *' Then how do 3-011 know ? It is your business to get her 
 consent, not mine. I will tell bcr that I wish it, that is all I 
 can do. But, of course, if she will not have you, the guarantee 
 is at an end." 
 
 "I don't think she will,'' repeated Ralph. 
 
 "I don't agree with you," said his uncle, drilj'. "At any 
 rate you must try. Will you ? " 
 
 " Yes, uncle," answered Ralph, rather despondingly. 
 
 ** Very well. Of course I cannot ask any more than that yon 
 should do your best. If you fail you are released from any en- 
 gagement. If you succeed I will allow each of you a thousand 
 a year, besides your present allowance. That will be i;2-400 
 between you. Can you live on that ? " 
 
 " I should think so, uncle," replied Ralph, instantly. 
 
 "Don't be too sure, Ralph," replied Sir Henry. "You have 
 managed to spend more than half that by yourself, but Diana is 
 a careful girl. I know she will keep you straight. Will a 
 cliousand clear you of all debts? Are you quite sure ? " 
 
 "I am quite sure," answered Ralph, after a moment's 
 reflection. 
 
 " Very well then, you shall have it." 
 
 " Thank you, uncle." 
 
 Then finding that Sir Henry still did not move, he said, 
 " Good bye, uncle, and very many thanks. I will go to Diana 
 now." 
 
 " Wait a minute, Ralph," and Sir Henry again walked to his- 
 escritoire, and draAving out his cheque-book slowly filled up a 
 form, which he handed to his nej)hew. It was for twelve hundred 
 ])()nnds. "I have given you something over; and, of course^ 
 stop to lunch and dinner," he added. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Ralph's doubts. 
 
 Our hero would liavo preferred leaving BranscomLe Hall at 
 once, and going home to think over his uncle's proposition, 
 rather than face Mrs. Throgmorton Toms, Mrs. Gore, and 
 Diana, particularly Diana, in the drawing-room. But he felt 
 that after the conversation he had had with his uncle, it 
 would he peculiar conduct to ride away with a cheque for the 
 money in his pocket, and not even to appear in his cousin's 
 room. Here he found the inevitable Colonel Mannering, as 
 well as Mrs. Toms. They were discussing the Holborn Vale 
 exploit, which had only just been recounted to the new arrival 
 from London, and which Diana once more described for Ralph's 
 benefit. 
 
 In the course of conversation Colonel Mannering mentioned that 
 he was going back to town on Monday, adding that unfortunately 
 he feared he should be unable to return again during the pre- 
 sent hunting season. Ralph pricked up his ears when he heard 
 this information, and resolved that in the course of the next week 
 he would make an endeavour to carry out his uncle's wishes, 
 which, it must be confessed, were his own too. Of course when 
 Sir Henry entered the drawing-room, all allusions to the pro- 
 scribed pack were at once dropped ; and Ralph, though not so 
 successful as he could have wished in avoiding Mr. Throgmorton 
 Toms, yet on the whole spent a less disagreeable afternoon 
 than he had anticipated. Diana was gracious to him. Colonel 
 Mannering talked a good deal to the Baronet, and a visit to 
 the stables, in the course of which Ralph prescribed for Diana's 
 thoroughbred, put matters between the cousins on a very 
 comfortable footing. When he arrived at the Rectory, at a 
 somewhat advanced hour of the evening, he found a letter 
 
118 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 ■waiting for liim, in a cramped handwriting, Avhicli lie recognised 
 as that of his Aunt Janet. It ran as follows : — 
 
 " My dear PiALPH, 
 
 " You have often promised to come and spend a day 
 with me at Silverstone, bnt have never yet done so. Now I 
 want you to oblige me in a matter in which I cannot do without 
 the advice of a person acquainted with horses. I do not under- 
 stand these quadrupeds, but I believe that you spend a good deal 
 of time riding, and therefore are able to judge them. I am 
 told that it is very dangerous to trust horse dealers ; and being 
 anxious to purchase a horse, I should be much obliged by your 
 assistance in the matter. If you will come to Silverstone next 
 Aveek, I will tell you all about it. IMy little ward, Marion 
 Dawson, will be very glad to see you ; and you shall have as 
 good a dinner as you can get at home, and a well-aired bed. 
 Any day will suit me. Perhaps Saturday to ]\Ionday would be 
 most convenient to you. Give my best love to your mother, 
 and your sisters, and believe me to remain 
 
 " Your affectionate Aunt, 
 
 "Janet Nettlerash." 
 
 Ralph was rather annoyed at this invitation, because he felt 
 that he could not decently refuse it ; and if a visit to Silverstone 
 was at ordinary times rather a bore, it became nothing short of 
 a positive nuisance at so momentous a period of his life, Avhen 
 he had to obtain from Diana the answer to a question on which 
 his whole future turned. But he felt that he could not abso- 
 lutely refuse; and, therefore, when on the following day he 
 settled down to his correspondence, and drew one cheque after 
 another in favour of those creditors who had waited so long 
 for their money, and of whom Mr. Toms was the first, he 
 also indited a note to Miss Nettlerash, promising to go to 
 Silverstone at as early a date as possible. He had seen his 
 Aunt's i^rotcgee once or twice, and recollected her as a deli- 
 cate-looking girl, with big eyes, but no more attractiveness 
 thrai a school girl of her age would generally have for a young 
 
Ralph's doubts. 119 
 
 man of his. What on earth could Miss Nettlerash want with a 
 horse? That puzzled him. The old lady was not going to 
 begin riding at her time of life, surely ! She was in the habit 
 of driving about the country in a cumbrous, close carriage, 
 belonging to the Landau family, which carriage was drawn by 
 two greys, or rather whites, aged nineteen and twenty-three 
 years respectively, which she jobbed from a London livery 
 stable-keeper. She had driven the same horses ever since her 
 sister's death left her in afiiuent circumstances, and she was 
 not likely now to plunge into the extravagance of starting a 
 stylish turn-out of her own. The two greys had become a part 
 of Silvcrstono. You could hang your hat on their ragged hips, 
 and lay an egg in the hollow over their eyes, without any 
 danger of its falling out, even v\-hen they trotted. Their average 
 pace was about six miles an hour ; and they were as well known 
 within a radius of five' miles of IMiss Nettlerash's residence as 
 the local letter-carrier. The coachman, whom Ealph had 
 alvrays suspected of selling half the forage sent down for the 
 horses, was a complete fossil ; and his tenure of office was not 
 likely to cease until Miss Nettlerash departed this life. She 
 had the greatest regard for his opinion, and trusted him quite 
 as implicitly as Sir Henry trusted the renowned Boulter. If a 
 purchase in horseflesh were contemplated, why should not the 
 old coachman have been consulted rather than Ealph ? These, 
 however, were trifling matters, which would not have disturbed 
 our hero at all, had his mind not been agitated by the im- 
 portant events of the day. Could he fairly propose to his 
 cousin ? Would it not be dishonourable to take advantage of 
 the pressure which Sir Henry would undoubtedly bring to 
 bear upon her ? Besides, was his cousin a fit person to become 
 his wife ? He was obliged to admit to himself that she was 
 not. Even her most strenuous advocate must have confessed 
 that her behaviour for the past two years had not been such as 
 to make her a suitable match for a man who did not wish his 
 wife to be talked about, nor her name to be in every one's 
 mouth. If Diana Branscombe had as a girl flirted so out- 
 
120 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 rageoiisly with various men, that her name was coupled with 
 theirs in a manner highly unpleasant to the feelings of even a 
 cousin, what could he expect of her when she was emancipated 
 from the constramt which confines even the most careless of 
 maidens ? He might, indeed, have had more confidence in the 
 future if Diana hud ever shown signs of affection for him. 
 A great and overwhelming passion has cured many a flirt ; and 
 if Diana were married to a man she adored, she would prohahly 
 turn out a very excellent wife. But not for a moment could 
 Ealph flatter himself that his qousin entertained any such 
 sentiments towards him. Though not without vanity, the 
 young man was quite sharp enough to perceive that whatever 
 regard his cousin might have for him was of the calmest possihle 
 description, and was at most a good-natured, placid feeling, 
 which might change to absolute indifference, but would never 
 be replaced by violent passion. In old days, when her flirta- 
 tions had only begun, she had often laughed good-naturedly at 
 his warnings', an<l had listened with a lurking smile to his brief 
 sermons. When her doings with Count Marini had caused her 
 to be talked about at the Orleans and other clubs, Ralph had 
 taken heart of grace, and spoken his mind. But on this occasion 
 Diana had told him to attend to his own business, and had ])ut 
 a stop once for all to any further advice from him. There had 
 been no quarrel, because, as Pwalph confessed to himself, she 
 did not care enough about him to quarrel with him. There had 
 been some coolness, Avliich had gradually worn off when Diana 
 found that he no longer thrust his counsels upon her. When 
 she was completely reassured upon this point, and felt that her 
 cousin would spare her his sermons and his warnings, she 
 resumed her friendly, l)ut calm and sisterly ways, without 
 allowing her friendship for Balph ever to interfere with her 
 flirtations with others. It was quite clear, therefore, to 
 Ealph, that though Diana did not dislike him, nay, positively 
 liked him in a certain way, she did not love him in the 
 least. Taken one way, this was a very painful conclusion ; 
 taken in another, it was almost a relief; for if she did 
 
Ralph's doubts. 121 
 
 not love him, she was not lilvcly to accept him, and he would 
 no longer have to decide the difficult question as to the pro- 
 priety or otherwise of marrying a girl whose name was tarnished. 
 Still he must risk a proposal. He had promised his uncle he 
 would do so. He now felt that he had heen very weak to give 
 that promise ; but how could he refuse? He could not tell the 
 odd gentleman that Miss Diana Branscomhe was not good enough 
 for him. He could not betray his cousin's flirtations, nor 
 inform the Baronet of their gravity, which he evidently did not 
 suspect. He could not pretend that he was in love with some- 
 body else, when in fact, he was devoted to his cousin. To 
 have refused to ask Diana to become his wife, would have been 
 to irritate his uncle, to do his cousin possibly an irreparable in- 
 jury, and to plunge himself into the ruin and disgrace Avhich 
 he had now been able to avoid. There was no other course 
 open but to urge his suit ; and yet he felt that this course was 
 almost as dishonourable as the one Mr. Throgmorton Toms 
 had suggested at the Colonnade Club. For, " after all," thought 
 he, " I am proposing to Diana, in order to get two thou- 
 sand a year now, and to make sure of my uncle's property at 
 some future time." " No, I am not," whispered a second self; 
 *' I am proposing to her, because my uncle wishes it, and because 
 I love her.*' Neither of the two sides of the argument seemed to 
 carry sufficient weight to enable him to decide what was right and 
 what was wrong. Yet action was urgent ; and he had practically 
 j)ledged himself to one particular course of action. True ; but 
 then he had been taken by surprise, and had consented rather 
 hastily to his uncle's suggestion. He might go back and tell 
 liim that he could not carry it out ; but then the old gentleman 
 would demand back his thousand pounds, for he had given 
 them only on the condition of Ralph's proposing to Diana ; and 
 the bulk of the thousand pounds was already travelling up to 
 London by the night mail, to be distributed amongst his various 
 creditors. There was no help for it ; he must go on. The grey 
 dawn of a winter's morning was already creeping through the 
 tjurtains, when Ralph fell into an uneasy slumber. 
 
CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 A QUIET TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 
 -<\^ev. 
 
 WAS Sunday after- 
 noon at the Hall ; 
 that sleepy hour 
 after lunch, when 
 ladies willingly drop 
 into comfortahle 
 arm-chairs hy the 
 fireside ; when con- 
 versation languishes, 
 and the recollection 
 of the morning's 
 sermon sometimes 
 dies avray into forty 
 winks. Diana was very fond of Mrs. Toms, hut not so fond as 
 to want to talk to her all day. The young lady had therefore 
 retired to the little boudoir adjoining her bedroom, which she 
 possessed as her own private property. She frequently hid in 
 this snuggery, and was seldom disturbed in it. She was there- 
 fore rather surprised when a gentle tap at the door announced 
 the arrival of a visitor. 
 
 " Come in," she said, with a suppressed yawn. It was Mrs. 
 Gore. 
 
 "Oh! it is you, Polly dear," exclaimed Diana. "What 
 brings you here ? Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I 
 was just going to have a nap." 
 
 " I have come to have a serious talk with you, Diana," said 
 Mrs. Gore with a solemn face. 
 
 "Then go away, dear Polly," answered the young lady, " I 
 don't like serious talks." 
 
 "I am afraid you must listen to me all the same, Diana, 
 
A QUIET TETE-A-TETE, 123 
 
 dear," said Mrs. Gore, sitting clown and taking the girl's 
 hand; " your uncle wishes it." 
 
 Diana sat up sharply. *' Oh, it really is serious, then?" she 
 enquired. " I suppose it is ahout Colonel Mannering ?" 
 
 *' Not exactly," Mrs. Gore replied; "hut the llict is, your 
 uncle called me into his room last night after dinner." 
 
 "Yes," said Diana, "I could not make out what he wanted 
 of you. I heard you were closeted together. What was it 
 all about ? A scolding, I suppose '?" 
 
 "Not exactly," again replied Mrs. Gore, staring into the fire 
 and trying to put her thoughts into shape. " The fact is. Sir 
 Henry wishes you to marry." 
 
 "Very kind of him, I am sure," answered Diana. " Whom 
 am I to marry ?" 
 
 "Well, that is just the difHculty," replied Mrs. Gore. 
 
 " Yes," said Diana, " it is difficult to marry when nobody has 
 asked one." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the chaperone, almost jumping up, 
 " has not Colonel Mannering proposed for you yet ?" 
 
 " No," said Diana, shaking her head sadly, " he has not, 
 indeed. But does my uncle want me to marry him '?" 
 
 " He has not mentioned the Colonel," replied Mrs. Gore, 
 " hut I daresay if the Colonel proposed he w^ould consent to the 
 marriage." 
 
 " Then who has asked for me ?" said Diana ; "I am getting 
 quite curious. I did not know I had any lovers about just now." 
 
 "Your cousin," replied Mrs. Gore. 
 
 "What, Ealph!" laughed Diana — "how ridiculous! He 
 must bo out of his senses. I hope you told my uncle I should 
 not marry him." 
 
 " No, my dear, I could not do that," replied Mrs. Gore. 
 **In fact I hope you Avill." 
 
 " I am sure I shall not," answered Diana. 
 
 "Wait a minute, dear. Sir Henry pointed out that it was 
 high time you should be married ; that it was the dream of his 
 life that you and Ealph should be man and wife ; that if you 
 
124 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 «licl so, the pvopevty ■\voukl be left entirely in the family ; and 
 finally told me that Ralph wished to propose to you, but would 
 not venture to do so without Sir Henry's consent." 
 
 " He shall not get mine," interrupted Diana. 
 
 " My dear child," continued Mrs. Gore, *' do think it over." 
 
 "It does not want any thinking over," answered Diana, hotly. 
 "I don't care about him. You know I don't, Polly. How can you 
 suggest that I should marry him?" And she put her arms 
 round her companion's neck. 
 
 " ^ly dear," Mrs. Gore went on, " do you care so very much 
 for Colonel !Mannering ? " 
 
 "I am afraid I do," whispennl Diana, concealing her face in 
 her friend's bosom. 
 
 " And has he not asked joii to marry him ?" 
 
 Diana only shook her head, which ]Mrs. Gore gently stroked. 
 " Poor child," she said, " I am afraid that Colonel Mannering is 
 not l)ehaving honourably towards you." 
 
 ''How can you say so?" Diana exclaimed, raising her head 
 and flashing an angry glance at Mrs. Gore. " He is a gentleman, 
 jimost delightful man, and perfectly straightforward, I am sure." 
 
 " Well, my dear," said Mrs. Gore, " the proof of the pudding- 
 is in the eating. It is a vulgar proverb, but it is a true one. 
 If Colonel Mannering loves you as you love him, why does 
 he not propose ? He has a good appointment, and you have 
 plenty of money, or will have if you marry Avith Sir Henry's 
 consent." 
 
 " I don't know," answered Diana, lookhig down. "He told 
 me there were circumstances which prevented him saying any- 
 thing definite." 
 
 " Circumstances are all very Avell," answered the chap(>rone, 
 " but now things have got to such a pass, that he must either 
 declare himself or make room for somebody else." 
 
 " I don't want anybody else," answered Diana. 
 
 " But your uncle docs," continued Mrs. Gore. " He has 
 quite made up his mind that you shall marry as soon as possible, 
 liccollect that your whole future depends upon him ; you have 
 
A QUIET TETE-A-TIITE. 125 
 
 nothing wliatovcr in the world but what he gives you, and if you 
 displease him you will he a pauper." 
 
 "I know," groaned Diana. 
 
 " And you would not be happy as a pauper, and love in a 
 cottage would not suit you. You want your horses and your 
 pony-carriage, and your comfortable room, and all your nick- 
 nacks, and your piano ; and you would be wretched without 
 these things." 
 
 *' I should not, if I were married to Colonel Mannering," said 
 Diana. 
 
 " Perhaps not. But do you honestly think that Colonel 
 Mannering, a man who has been spoiled for many years in 
 London society, who has ridden the best horses, driven a 
 handsome team, kept open house at Ascot and Goodwood, and 
 all that, would put up Avith an obscure existence on his very 
 moderate pay, which is barel}^ enough for a bachelor ? " 
 
 " I think he would, for my sake," answered Diana hesitatingly. 
 
 '' Perhaps he might. I will not deny that love may alter 
 a man entirely, but it does not generally do so, and in this case 
 he has not even proposed yet." 
 
 " No, but he will," answered Diana. 
 • " How do you know ?" 
 
 "I am sure of it." 
 
 " Am I to tell your uncle, then, that you wish to Avait until 
 Colonel Mannering proposes ? I am afraid he will hardly be 
 satisfied with such an answer," Mrs. Gore said. 
 
 Diana sighed. " Why does my uncle want me to marry?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " The fact is, my dear," Mrs. Gore answered, "I believe Sir 
 Henry sees much more than we give him credit for. I believe ho 
 knows all about your goings on with Count Marini and Mr. Tierce." 
 
 " I do not care about that," answered Diana. 
 
 " Very likely not, but you must confess that there is some 
 ground for complaint on the part of your uncle." 
 
 "I did not do any harm," said Diana again. 
 
 "No real harm, perhaps," answered Mrs. Gore, "although 
 
12G FAIR DIANA. 
 
 you know I could not possibly countenance those men going on 
 with you find kissing you, and all that." 
 
 " Well, it is all over now," said Diana wearily. *' Don't go 
 over the old ground again. Heaven knows, you have scolded me 
 enough about that wTetched Marini." She suddenly burst out 
 laughing. "Do you remember his coming down here in 
 Xovembcr, and what a figure he looked riding round the ring on 
 old Peterborough ? I shall never forget the little wretch as 
 long as I live." 
 
 "But let us be serious, dear," interrupted Mrs. Gore. " The 
 Count is done for ; so is Mr. Tierce ; and I wish Colonel 
 Manncring were." 
 
 " He never will be," Diana interjected. 
 
 "Don't speak like that, Diana; it is quite clear that Sir 
 Henry will not allow any more goings on." 
 
 " I suppose he will expect me to have the servants in for prayers 
 morning and evening, and do nothing but parish visiting now." 
 
 "Don"t be silly. Sir Henry is evidently determined not to 
 have any more of those flirtations, which do you no good ; and 
 he thinks the best way to put an end to them is that you should 
 marry; and I must say that I agree with him." 
 
 "You do?" exclaimed Diana. 
 
 " Yes, I fully agree with Sir Henry. Now, dear, why don't you 
 listen to reason ? If Colonel Mannering will not propose — and 
 he certainly does not seem inclined to do so — accept your cousin." 
 
 "I don't care about him," replied Diana. 
 
 " He is a very good fellow," observed Mrs. Gore, " a dutiful son, 
 clever, straightforward, and decidedly good-looking ; and I believe 
 him to be thoroughly kind-hearted. Do you recollect how he got 
 you out of that scrape when you came home from the theatre 
 alone v.dtli Count IMarini? There would have been an awful 
 row if your cousin had not been clever and kind enough to help 
 you." 
 
 " Oh yes," ansv.ered Diana impatiently. " I know he is very 
 good, and all that, but I don't care about him. I look upon 
 him as a sort of brother half removed." 
 
A QUIET T^TE-A-TlliTE. 127 
 
 " I am sure lie would make an excellent husband," continued 
 ]\Irs. Gore. " You would be as happy as the day is long. He 
 is very fond of hunting, too, and of driving, and all of your 
 favourite pursuits." 
 
 " But I don't care about him," again repeated Diana. 
 
 ** But you will when you are married ; I, as an experienced 
 married woman, can tell you that." 
 
 " Don't argue any more," said Diana. *' It can never be as 
 you wish." 
 
 "Don't say that, dear," persisted the chaperone ; "you see 
 Colonel Maunering has no serious intentions." 
 
 Diana was silent for some minutes, looking into the fire. 
 At last she said, " Well, Polly dear, I don't want you to tell my 
 uncle that his niece is wilful and obstinate ; but I cannot 
 promise to accept Ralph unless ." And she stopped. 
 
 " Unless Colonel Mannering gives you up altogether," sug- 
 gested Mrs. Gore. 
 
 " I don't quite mean that. I mean that I should like to give 
 Colonel Mannering one more chance. I should like him to 
 know that there is some one else in the field, and that he must 
 make up his mind at once, or I shall almost begin to think he 
 does not love me." 
 
 " Shall I tell him?" asked Mrs. Gore. 
 
 "Certainly not," ansv/ered Diana; "that is my business. 
 He is to go to-morrow, but I will have it out with him first. 
 Leave it to me, Polly." 
 
 "What will you do?" asked Mrs Gore. 
 
 " I cannot tell," replied Diana. 
 
 Mrs. Gore was alarmed. Visions of an elopement and its 
 attendant scandal crossed her mind. 
 
 " My dear child ! " she exclaimed, " you are thinking of some 
 desperate step. Let me beg of you tell me what you propose 
 doing." 
 
 " Nothing very dreadful," said Diana, smiling. " Do not be 
 afraid, Polly dear. You won't be compromised, and I shall not, 
 either." 
 
128 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 *' Promise me that you -will be very careful, Diana, and will 
 not do anything to displease Sir Henry." 
 
 " I promise that he shall not know anything about it, and 
 that there will be no row at all. There, Polly, that is all I 
 shall tell you. You may leave it to me, and in twenty-four 
 hours you will have to admit that you are mistaken in 
 Colonel Mannering, and that he is as honourable and loyal as 
 he is pleasant and good-looking." 
 
 "Very well," sighed Mrs. Gore ; "what am I to say to your 
 uncle?" 
 
 ■' Nothing for a day or two," answered Diana. 
 
 At that moment there was a knock. On Diana's summons 
 her maid stepped in and announced, *' Mr. Pialph, please 
 Miss." 
 
 ii 
 
 ni. 1'' i 
 
 
 mi 
 
 r ^\ ii?^ 
 
 '^^ ^\\'^^^cOVV^\\^o^^ o^^lss "^ 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THK MERPA' MONTH OF MAY 
 
 in^ 
 
 
 SMALL hostelry, 
 which disagree- 
 able people might 
 call a public- 
 house, rejoiced 
 in the above 
 euphonious ap- 
 pellation. It was 
 situated at Sil- 
 ver stone, not far 
 from Miss Net- 
 tlerash's place. 
 On an evening 
 in the same 
 month of Decem- 
 ber when the 
 events related in 
 the previous chapter took place, a tiny room behind the bar of 
 the "Merry Month of May" was occupied by an individual 
 whose appearance betrayed him as one familiar with horses, 
 while his features were scarcely such as to inspire immediate 
 or entire confidence. A sallow face, a nose which might have 
 been once aquiline but was now swollen out of all shape and 
 of a deep red, a large mouth containing irregular black teeth, 
 a receding forehead, were the characteristics which made his 
 nickname of Handsome Joe appear but a sorry jest. Handsome 
 Joe was conversing affably with the landlord of the *' Merry 
 Mouth of ^lay," to beguile the time while waiting for a friend. 
 
130 FAIi: DIANA. 
 
 Handsome Joe began to get impatient. At last a well-known 
 voice was liearcl in the bar. 
 
 ** Come in, Mr. Bingham, come in," said the landlord. *' Mr. 
 Joseph has been waiting for you ever so long." 
 
 " Good evening, Joe," said Mr. Bingham, extending his hand 
 while he nodded to the host. " Could not help it. The old 
 Avoman was such a long time over her visits to-day. Thought 
 that we should never get home at all. Now, Smith," added he, 
 turning to the landlord, " let's have a pint of half-and-half 
 and then leave us to our business." 
 
 *' Yes, Mr. Bingham, certainly," said the man, adding, with a 
 wink, "I'll see that you ain't disturbed." 
 
 As soon as the pot was placed on the grimy table, stained by 
 numerous rings of previous pots, Mr. Bingham produced a 
 parcel, which he proceeded to open. 
 
 " The old woman has taken to the co-operative stores, Joe," 
 he began. 
 
 '* So I hear," answered Joseph. " How do you get on with 
 them?" 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Bingham, "what I says is, as long as my 
 missus behaves as siie oughter I shall behave right and proper 
 to her." 
 
 " Quite right," ejaculated Handsome Joe. 
 
 ** But, says I, she is giving up honest tradesmen — Robinson, 
 the saddler, here in Silverstone, and Ricketts, in Jermyn Street, 
 them's what I call good shops, them are. Sound saddlery, stout 
 leather, ten per cent, commission, and no questions asked. As 
 long as the old woman stuck to them everything was all right in 
 the stable. She didn't take much account of the l)ills when 
 they came in at Christmas, and there was always a sovereign or 
 two when the cheques was wrote." 
 
 ** Besides the ten per cent. ?" asked Handsome Joe. 
 
 "In course," replied Mr. Bingham, "that's hextra. But 
 now, viliat does the old woman do but want to go and buy her 
 sponges and rollers and every littl(> bit of strap I wants at them 
 co-operative stores ? She drives up to town and keeps me wait- 
 
THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY. 131 
 
 ing with tliem old liosses half a day in the Haymarket, while she 
 toddles up and down the place and buys everything herself 
 and pays for it on the nail. Check, I calls it. What do //o<7, 
 think?" 
 
 " Well, it is rather hard on yon," said Handsome Joe. 
 
 ** 'Ard on me ! I should think it were," growled Mr. Bing- 
 ham. "No chance of a couple of shillings in the pound there, 
 I can tell you. And fine rubbish she gets for her money too. 
 Well, I say it ain't fair, and if I ain't treated fair and square 
 I don't see that there is any call for me to treat other folks fair 
 and square. Is there, «Toe ?" 
 
 " No, there ain't," answered Joe promptl}^ — " tit for tat." 
 
 " That's what I say," continued Mr. Bingham. " As long as 
 the old woman went to honest tradesmen my bosses got all they 
 wanted, as well as any dook's. But what can she expect now 
 when she goes to them stores and deprives a honest servant of 
 his does ? Somehow we wants three times as many sponges and 
 cloths and brushes and things as we used to, so she won't find 
 much saving that way, she won't." And with tliis asseveration 
 Mr. Bingham unfolded the contents of his parcel, which con- 
 tained two new sponges, two horse rollers, several brushes, a 
 currycomb, and some other articles of use in the stable. " Now, 
 Joe," he said, "just take a list of that lot and see what you can 
 get, for them." 
 
 Joe produced the stump of a pencil and a dirt}^ note-book, 
 stuffed the pencil into his mouth and slowly proceeded to write 
 down a list of the articles. Before he had quite finished, Bing- 
 ham inquired — 
 
 " Brought the cash for last month, Joe ?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Bingham," replied that gentleman. " Two pound 
 seventeen and six. There was two quarters of oats and three 
 trusses of hay, and " 
 
 "That will do, Joe, that will do," interrupted Mr. Bingham. 
 ** I believe that's right enough. But we've got more business 
 to talk about to-night — better business than oats and hay." 
 
 " What is that ?" asked Handsome Joe curiously. 
 
 K 2 
 
132 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " Joe," said Mr. Bingham, raising his forefinger and point- 
 ing it at him. " Joe, five to one you won't guess." 
 
 " Better tell me at once, then, Mr. Bingham, and satisfy my 
 curiosity." 
 
 " It is a rum go, Joe," continued Mr. Bingham, slapping his 
 friend's knees ; " it is a rum go, and blest if I don't have another 
 drop of beer before I tell you, just to wet my whistle." 
 
 The beer was brought, nor was a pot for Handsome Joe for- 
 gotten. "When the door again closed the latter gentleman said, 
 " Now go ahead, Mr. Bingham. What is it all about ?" 
 
 ** "Wait half a minute till I have filled my pipe, Joe. The old 
 woman is very bad about 'baccy, but I don't think she will send 
 for me to-night again, so here goes. It is a rum go," he at 
 last said, when his pipe was in full swing. " Wliat do you 
 think? — the old woman wants to buy a horse ! " 
 
 "Buy a horse?" said Handsome Joe, inquiringly. "Well, 
 better late than never." 
 
 " That is what I say," answered Mr. Bingham. " But when 
 I says she wants to buy a horse I oughter say she wants to 
 buy a pony. You have seen that young girl that's a stopping 
 along with us ? " 
 
 " Not that I knows on," answered Joe. 
 
 " Well, she has took up with some vagrant girl or other — 
 some mountebank's daughter, I believe ; and she is bringing 
 her up like a real lady. Now nothing will do but what this 
 girl must have a pony ; and the old woman says to me, 
 says she, ' Bingham, Miss Marian wants a pony.' Well, I 
 ain't got no call to discourage the idea, so I says, ' All right, 
 mum ; ' and she says, ' Bingham, do you think you could 
 find a pony for Miss Marian ? ' so I says, * In course I can, 
 mum." 
 
 " I should reyther think you could," interjected Mr. Joseph, 
 with a wink. 
 
 Mr. Bingham continued : " This young girl, you see, has 
 been having riding lessons down at the school ; but now nothing 
 what she gets there ain't good enough for her, and she wants to 
 
THE MEP.RY MONTH OF MAY. 133 
 
 have a horse of her own — the little upstart ! It ain't ?»// busineHs 
 to interfere with the missus about her, be it, Joe ? " 
 
 "I should think not," answered Joe, with another wink. 
 
 " So I says, ' Very well, mum ; I'll look out for a pony for 
 Miss Marian,' and that's my business with you to-night, Joe. 
 You know the sort of pony I want, don't you ? " 
 
 " I think I do," answered Joe. 
 
 "Well, you just tell me your idea of a pony, then, and I will 
 tell you if it fits mine." 
 
 Joe answered unhesitatingly, " The sort of pony you want, 
 Mr. Bingham, is an animile that you -an get a ten-pound note 
 out of." 
 
 " That is exactly it, Joe. I see you know all about it. Ten 
 pounds, or twelve, it may be. Well, look here, Joe, it must be 
 all fair and square. No vice, mind. Xo nasty kicking brutes, 
 what will kill that young girl. I have no call to get that young 
 girl killed, Joe." 
 
 " Of course not," assented Joe. " A nice, quiet, animile is 
 what you want. How old is the young lady ? " 
 
 "Young lady!" sneered Bingham. " Why I told you she 
 was only a vagabond's girl. I should think she is fourteen, or 
 may be fifteen. A thin slip of a thing ; no substance, but pretty 
 tall. Puts up about Derby weight, I suppose, saddle and all." 
 
 " Can she ride ? " asked Joe. 
 
 "Ride ! " Mr. Bingham rejoined. " Brought up as she has 
 been, of course she can't ride. She sits on a thing that has 
 got four legs and a tail and a head, and she don't tumble oft', and 
 she calls it riding. But mind, Joe," and Mr. Bingham raised 
 his hand warniugly, " we mustn't let the girl be hurt, and we 
 mustn't spoil our charicters. We must be quite straight." 
 
 " Certainly," assented Joe, again. " I think I know the very 
 thing you want." 
 
 " What is he like ? " asked Mr. Bingham. 
 
 ** Good looking pony," replied Joe ; " nice paces ; baby could 
 ride him ; goes in harness ; only seven years old ; stands about 
 fourteen hands ; quiet as a lamb." 
 
134 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 " Showy, eh ? " asked Mr. Bingham. 
 
 " Very showy," answered Joe ; " quite a flat-catcher." 
 
 " What is the figure, Joe ? " Mr. Bingham inquired further, 
 ** and who docs he belong to ? " 
 
 "A pall of mine, Goswell Road way," answered Mr. Joseph. 
 " But of course he is a captain in the army, he is." 
 
 "I don't think the old girl quite likes cai)tains in the army," 
 r^fr. Bingham remarked reflectively. " Better let him be a 
 ])arson. Can't your pal be a parson, .Toe ?" 
 
 " Ay," answered Joe, " no reason why my pal shouldn't be a 
 parson as well as an ossifer, if you think it'll fetch the old woman 
 better." 
 
 "I am sure it would," continued Mr. Bingham. " The old 
 \voman is very sweet on parsons, but she don't like them 
 soldier officers at all. What is his figure ? " 
 
 *'I think I could get him for about twenty-five," answered 
 Joe. 
 
 " How much back ? " asked ]Mr. Bingham. 
 
 " Oh, usual terms," said Joe; " half back, of course. You 
 could have a ten-pun note, and leave me two pound ten for my 
 trouble." 
 
 " But what is it ? " asked Bingham again. 
 
 *' Wliat's what ? " 
 
 " I mean what is wrong with the pony ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing as you or I knows of," answered Mr. Joseph. 
 " Subject to a little bit of a cold sometimes, that is all." 
 
 " Oh, that is all, is it ? " smiled Mr. Bingham. '' That will 
 (1(1 for me ; only mind, he must not have any cold on him when 
 he comes down here to show oft"." 
 
 " No fear of that," answered Joseph. " He will be as sound 
 as a bell, then. When shall he come ? " 
 
 *• Could not your pal write a letter to the old woman ? " asked 
 Bingham. 
 
 " Of course he could," replied Joe. " But now I must be off. 
 She shall have a letter by the next post." 
 
 The friends parted, another quart having previously been 
 

THE MEKKY. MONTH OF MAY. 135 
 
 consumed Avitli mutual protestations of esteem. By Uw next 
 cveninf,f's post Miss Nettlerasli received a neat note on mourning 
 paper, in which the Eev. Herbert Brown presented his compH- 
 ments to her, and hearing that she wanted a pony for her 
 little niece, begged to ofler her his pot " Kaven," which had been 
 ridden for two years by his only daughter, for whose loss he was 
 no.',' in deep mourning. Miss Nettlerasli looked upon this note 
 as almost a godsend. Bingham had just informed her that it 
 was very difficult to find an animal to suit Marian Dawson, and, 
 anxious as she was to please the child, while at the same time 
 she was very much afraid of beii>g duped by horse-dealers, she 
 scarcely knew what to do. But a clergyman who had just lost 
 his only daughter was certainly not a horse-dealer, and she could 
 thoroughly rely upon such a man not to deceive her, particularly 
 if, as she intended, honest old Bingham was called in to examine 
 the purchase. By return of post the Eev. Herbert Brown re- 
 ceived a note asking him to be good enough to send the pony 
 down to Silverstone to be looked at. Next day the pony appeared, 
 a really good-looking black, well ribbed up, with nice sloping 
 shoulders, and good t^^uarters. When led up and down his fine 
 action and flowing mane and tail at once fascinated Marian 
 Dawson, who exclaimed, " Oh, Miss Nettlerasli, what a dar- 
 ling!" 
 
 "He does look pretty, my dear," said Miss Nettlerasli, raising 
 her glasses to her eyes, " but I don't know whether he is sound. 
 Bingham must look at him." 
 
 Bingham was at once summoned, and affected much surprise 
 that Miss Nettlerash had herself sent for the pony without con- 
 sulting him. The old lady admitted that he had some ground 
 for off'ence, and almost entreated him to forgive her and examine 
 the pony impartially. This Bingham proceeded to do, and 
 finally said : 
 
 " He seems a good pony enough, mum, but I don't know 
 whether he will carry a young lady." 
 
 This doubt was soon set at rest. A side saddle was put on 
 the cob, and the stable-boy mounted him with a horse-cloth 
 
loG FAIR DIAxA. 
 
 round bis waist. After this it was consiilered safe for Marian 
 Dawson to try him herself, Bingham being at her side, 
 while the man who bad brought the pony, no other than 
 Handsome Joe, led him slowly round. Raven was as quiet 
 as a lamb. After two or three turns Joe left his head, 
 and Marian, beginner though she was, was delighted to find 
 herself able to make him trot, walk, or canter just as she 
 pleased. Meanwhile Handsome Joe was not idle. H(; told ^Nliss 
 Nettlerash a touching story of the Rev. Herbert Brown's be- 
 reavement, and the immense value he attached to the memory of 
 his daughter, how whenever he looked at Raven the poor gentle- 
 man burst into tears, and how Mrs. Brown had at last insisted 
 upon parting with the animal, in order that her husband might 
 not so often be moved to sorrow. Miss Nettlerash herself 
 almost felt a tear come into her eye as she listened to the 
 artless narrative. 
 
 "Poor man," she sighed. " Well, the pony will have a happy 
 home. What is his price '? " 
 
 " Thirty guineas, I believe, mum," answered Handsome Joe. 
 
 *' It seems a good deal," Miss Nettlerash remarked. " I must 
 see about it." 
 
 " Just as you please, mum," answered Joe. " I was to go on 
 from here to Lord Kilmainham's in case you did not want the 
 pony, mum. His lordship's very sweet upon him for his little 
 boy." 
 
 Miss Nettlerash thought there was no time to lose to secure so 
 excellent a purchase, so she summoned Bingham and consulted 
 wi'cn him aside. 
 
 " I think it is too much, mum," said Bingham, decisively. 
 *' He is a nice pony, but if I was you I would not give more 
 than eight-and-twenty pounds for him." 
 ' "But perhaps he won't take it," answered Miss Nettlerash. 
 
 ** I think he will, mum," replied Bingham. "These grums 
 generally ask more than their masters will take. But if he 
 don't, mum, you can always drive up and off'er his master the 
 money. I would not say more than twenty-eight pounds. Five- 
 
THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY. 137 
 
 ancl-twenty I should say, but then Miss Marian seems sweet 
 upon him, so it might be worth while to give a couple of 
 sovereigns hextra." 
 
 "What a blessing to have such an honest servant," thought 
 Miss Nettlerash. And then aloud to Joe, " I will give twenty- 
 eight pounds for the pony." 
 
 " Sorry, mum, I can't take it," answered Joe. " My master 
 said ' thirty pounds, Joe, or nothing.' " 
 
 Marian almost had tears in her eyes when the man disap- 
 peared down the drive. But ISIiss Nettlerash congratulated 
 herself on her firmness, although she had some misgivings as t( 
 Avhether her plan would succeed. In the afternoon she followea 
 Bingham's advice, and in fact instructed him to carry it out. 
 For that gentleman was despatched to town with a cheque for 
 twenty-eight pounds, and orders to see whether he could soften 
 the hard heart of the Rev. Herbert Brown. To the delight ot 
 all parties he returned before dinner with the pony, and it need 
 hardly be added twelve pounds in his pocket, of which Miss 
 Nettlerash knew nothing. 
 
 Next morning, Marian accompanied by Bingham on one of the 
 white carriage-horses, was taken out for a short ride. The girl 
 had a natural taste for riding, and every hour she spent in the 
 saddle seemed to improve her hands and seat. Raven coughed 
 once or twice during this exercise, but of course Marian, who 
 was unskilled in horseflesh, took no notice of the circumstance. 
 A day or two later, however, she tried to canter, and the pony 
 wheezed so terribly and coughed so often that she was obliged 
 to pull up. In the evening Bingham appeared with a grave face 
 in Miss Nettlerash's dining-room. 
 
 *'I am afraid, mum," he said, " that pony has got a very bad 
 cold." 
 
 " How has he caught it ? " asked Miss Nettlerash, alarmed. 
 
 " I am sure I don't know, mum." 
 
 *' I hope it is not serious." 
 
 " I hope not, indeed," continued Bingham; "but you never 
 know what change of stables does." 
 
CHAPTER XVIIl. 
 
 DIPLOMATIC. 
 
 W^ttT'j 
 
 WAS 
 
 mucli astonisliecl at her cousin's appearance in her houdoir. 
 It was not usual for visitors to he shown into this sanctum, 
 and certainly it was the first time for some years that Ralph 
 had entered it, hut having decided to speak to his cousin 
 on the subject nearest his heart, he had thought that delays 
 would he dangerous, and had made up his mind to take the 
 plunge as soon as possible. No great talent had been required 
 to overcome the scruples of the waiting-maid on the subject of 
 admitting him into his cousin's little sitting-room. In former 
 years he had often spent whole afternoons there, and Ralph was 
 popular in the household, the only persons who objected to him 
 being Mr. Boulter and the pompous footman. 
 
 It is not necessary to describe in full the conversation whien 
 took place between the cousins. Mrs. Gore retired instantly, 
 although Diana pressed her to stop. Ralph was about to pour 
 
DIPLOMATIC. 139 
 
 out a veliement declaration, and had already introduced the 
 subject by what lawyers would term a "recital" of all the feel- 
 ings he had cherished for his cousin ever since his boyish days. 
 Diana, however, cut the story short by saying, " Ralph, there is 
 no need to talk a lot of nonsense." 
 
 " But it is not nonsense," expostulated Ralph. " It is all 
 quite true, and .'" 
 
 "Never mind," interrupted Diana again, **Z consider it non- 
 sense. I don't want to listen to you to-day. You may tell me 
 whatever you like next week, and then I will let you finish your 
 story, but for to-day, I would rather not hear it." 
 
 " But Diana, dear, unless you know what I have to say ." 
 
 " I can guess pretty well, Ralph," Diana answered, " and I 
 wish you were not going to say anything. At any rate, wait a 
 week, or say ten days. If you still wish me to listen to you, 
 then perhaps I will." 
 
 But Ralph was either too conscientious or too much in love to 
 be so easily put off. He persisted, till out of sheer weariness 
 Diana ceased interrupting him. It was some time before she 
 replied to his peroration, which was : " Dear Diana, will you be 
 my wife? " 
 
 She wltlidrew her hand which he had seized, and toyed 
 with her fan. At last she said without betraying much 
 emotion : — 
 
 " I am very sorry, dear Ralph, that you should have wasted 
 so much affection on me. I do not deserve it." 
 
 "What does that matter, if I think you do?" exclaimed 
 Ralph. 
 
 "I Imow I don't," retorted Diana. "I cannot answer you. 
 You must wait." 
 
 "Will you give me some hope?" asked Ralph, taking her 
 white hand within his own. " Darling Diana, you know there 
 is no one in the world I can love except yourself." 
 
 " I cannot give you any hope," answered Diana. .Vud all he 
 could get from her was a promise to see him again ten days later. 
 Until this, she said, she could give no decisive reply, but she 
 
140 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 added, " I am afraid that my answer tlicu will not please you any 
 better than my answer to-day." 
 
 "With this very doubtful success Ealph had to be content. 
 His cousin's fair presence, her kmdness of manner, which was 
 apparent, although she had refused to accept his advances, her 
 gentleness, the pressure of the hand with which she dismissed 
 him, all had contributed to increase rather than diminish the 
 ardour with which he prosecuted his suit. If on the previous 
 night he had occasional^ been tempted to consider the proposal 
 to Diana rather in the light of a duty he owed to his uncle, he 
 was to-day inclined to think that a rejection would be the greatest 
 misfortune that could befall him. In her presence he forgot all 
 his doubts and fears. His heart was so full of affection for her, 
 so overflowing with admiration, that he felt sure of being able to 
 make her so good a husband as to avoid all chance of those un- 
 pleasant consequences which in the watches of the previous night 
 he had considered possible. He could not face another dinner at 
 Branscombe Hall. He left a hurried note to his uncle, in which 
 he informed him that he must go to town by the mail, but would 
 return to carry out his promise very shortly. Nor did he ride 
 over to the rectory in the mood of a rejected lover. He could 
 not quite explain to himself why Diana wanted time to think it 
 over, but he reasoned, " If she did not like me, and if she thought 
 the thing quite out of the question, she would say so at once. 
 She is not a girl to look half-a-dozen times at a place before she 
 jumps it. I don't think she wanted to make my fall easier by 
 putting it off. I believe that next week she will say * Yes.' " This 
 was Ralph's conclusion, and possibly the reasoning of a sanguine 
 lover was nearer the truth than would have been that of a calm 
 lofician. Of the two, Diana was the more disturbed l)y the 
 interview. When her cousin left, there was no opportunity for a 
 fresh tcte-a-tcte with Mrs. Gore. She was summoned to after- 
 noon tea in the drawing-room, some neighbours dropped in, and 
 she scarcely had time to think, before the dressing-bell rang. 
 But while her maid was combing out the loose and massive black 
 tresses which were somehow compressed into a small knot when 
 
DIPLOMATIC. 141 
 
 she rode to hounds, she recapitulated to herself the events of the 
 afternoon, and with feminine sharpness, saw her way to make 
 use of Kalph's offer without accepting it. 
 
 When the Colonel held the door open for the ladies to sweep 
 out after dinner, she whispered as she passed him, " I want to 
 see you in the conservatory." 
 
 The gallant Colonel was late at the rendezvous, for he delayed 
 over his host's claret. He found Diana impatiently tapping her 
 knee with her fan. She was sitting on a sofa in the well- warmed 
 glass-house which adjoined the large drawing-room. 
 
 " You have kept me waiting a long time. Colonel Mannering," 
 she said. 
 
 "I could not help it," he replied; "I could not get away 
 from your uncle and Mr. Toms without attracting attention." 
 
 "I do not understand why you are so afraid of attracting 
 attention. Colonel Mannering." 
 
 "Darling Diana," whispered the Colonel, sinking down on 
 the sofa beside her and encircling her slender waist with his arm, 
 *' did not you promise to trust me *? " and he endeavoured to kiss 
 her soft cheek. 
 
 She withdrew and stood up, mechanically picking a camellia 
 which she crushed in her taper fingers as she spoke. 
 
 " Yes, I did," she answered, "but circumstances have changed 
 since Friday." 
 
 "How?" he asked, quickly, and looking startled. "What 
 do you mean ? ' ' 
 
 " I mean," she answered, slowly, "I mean that " and she 
 
 hesitated. 
 
 " What? " asked the Colonel again. " That you do not trust 
 me any longer ? Why ? " 
 
 " No, it is not that," answered Diana ; "I would trust you, 
 though," she added, half bitterly, "I do not know why I should. 
 But there are others who will not trust you," — and again she 
 hesitated, and, looking away, at last said, " Some one has pro- 
 posed to me." 
 
14 J FAIR I) [ANA. 
 
 " Proposeil ! Who ? " asked the Colonel, starting up. " Who 
 has dared?" 
 
 "Well, why not, Colonel Mannering ? " replied Diana, re- 
 covering her composure. " 1 do not think I am plainer than 
 other girls, and I helieve I have good expectations." 
 
 *' But, who is it?" asked Mannering, almost imperiously. 
 " And what did you say '? Of course, you refused him ! " 
 
 " No," replied Diana. 
 
 " You did not ! " and jMannering threw himself down on the 
 sofa, and hid his face in his hands. " What," he gasped, " you 
 accepted this man within a few hours of promising to trust and 
 believe in me ? " 
 
 Diana was overcome by his apparent emotion. '"' No, Frank, 
 dear," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder, "I did not 
 accept him, hut my uncle wishes it very much, and I did not 
 absolutely say no. I asked for time." 
 
 " Who is it ? " again inquired the Colonel, almost fiercely. 
 
 " Never mind who it is," replied Diana. 
 
 " Do you love him ? " he asked, taking her hand and speaking 
 again in his tenderest tcmes. " Can you love him, Diana ? " 
 
 " Frank, how can you ask ? " she answered. "Must you go 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 " The sooner the better," he replied l)itterly, " to get out of 
 this fellow's way." 
 
 *' How can you speak like that, Frank ? " said the girl, in turn 
 dropping back on the sofa from wdiich the soldier had risen. 
 ** You make me thoroughly wretched." 
 
 " Not more than I am myself, Diana," lie answered. " Who 
 is this man ? Is it your cousin ? " 
 
 By this time Diana was almost unnerved. She had concealed 
 her face in her handkerchief and did not answer. 
 
 i\Iannering went on. " It must be your cousin, that unlicked 
 cub, a mere boy, quite incapable of understanding you or making 
 you happy." 
 
 "I do not want to marry him," sobbed Diana. 
 
 ** Then Ml-y not refuse him at once ? " asked the Colonel. 
 
DIPLOMATIC. 143 
 
 "Because, don't you see, poor Uncle Henry is getting old and 
 he wants to see us two married to " 
 
 "To keep the property together," sneered the Colonel. 
 
 ** I do not know," answered the girl, wiping aw'ay her tears 
 and looking him straight in the face, " hut at any rate it is my 
 duty to do all I can to please my uncle, who has been so kind to 
 me all my life." 
 
 " Oh, if you talk of duty — " said Mannering. 
 
 " I do not generally talk of duty," answered Diana, "and I 
 know I have not done mine so iav. But here is a good-hearted 
 young man who wants to marry me, and my old uncle, to whom 
 I owe everything, also urges me to it. What can I do ? Advise 
 me, help me ! " she added, imploringly. 
 
 "I am afraid I cannot help you," answered Mannering, "if 
 your own heart does not." 
 
 Diana bit her lip. " If I anger my uncle," she went on, " he 
 might turn me out of the house. I should be penniless and 
 homeless. I have not anything of my own." 
 
 " That is the worst of it," the Colonel said, sotto voce. 
 
 " And unless I please him he will not give me anything. 
 What can I do ? " 
 
 Colonel Mannering had become calmer during the last few 
 minutes. He walked up and down silently, and then said, " I 
 will think it over and tell you before I go to-morrow morning.' 
 
 *' Must you go ? " Diana asked once more. 
 
 " I must, indeed, darling. One kiss before you go back to 
 them." 
 
 Diana allowed him to press her lips with his moustache, and 
 joined the rest of the party, while the Colonel strolled off to the 
 smokino^-room for a ciorarette. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A BAD COLD. 
 
 RALPH rattled 
 back to London in 
 the mail train be 
 bethought him of 
 bis aunt's note, and 
 it struck him that a 
 '^k'Z visit to Silverstone, 
 '::i # tj , tedious as it was 
 "y^-Jf ^^i . likely to turn out, 
 ■"■ ' would be a means 
 
 of diverting his 
 thoughts from the 
 engrossing subject 
 of his cousin's an- 
 swer. For Ralph 
 was pre-eminently 
 active-minded, and 
 could not bear to 
 waste time and 
 thought on anything which could not thereby be advanced. His 
 mind was generally occupied by matters of a practical nature, and 
 he abhorred to dwell on mere speculation which could have no 
 tangible result. So when his next day's work was completed he 
 wrote a note, telling his aunt that if she pleased he would come 
 down to Silverstone when the Indian mail was despatched, and 
 stop with her until the next Monday. By return of post he 
 received a warm reply, and at the appointed hour on Friday 
 evening left the train at Silverstone station, and found his aunt's 
 family equipage waiting to receive him. To his horror, when 
 
A EAD COLD. 145 
 
 entering the drawing room before dinner, he found the Ecv. C. 
 T. Mudbury Dawson and a bearded gentleman, whom he at once 
 put down as a foreign artist. The reverend lecturer seemed 
 perfectly at home at Silverstone, and talked to the foreign gentle- 
 man in a patronizing waj' of the extent of the grounds and the 
 conveniences of the house, a conversation to which Miss Nettle- 
 rash's entrance put an end. That lady greeted Ealph effusively^ 
 and then introduced him to Herr Katzenmusick. " Of course," 
 she added, " you have heard of Herr Katzenmusick? " 
 
 " I am afraid ," replied Ealph, "I do not go out much." 
 
 " Not heard of Herr Katzenmusick '? " she asked, quite indig- 
 nantly. " He is the greatest harpist of the century, and has 
 played at a number of concerts with brilliant and well-deserved 
 success. I hope we shall hear him after dinner." 
 
 The German bowed slightly, but appeared to take the compli- 
 ments as a matter of course. 
 
 The spinster divided her attentions between the Rev. C; T. 
 Mudbury Dawson and the eminent German harpist. When 
 she talked to the latter the reverend gentleman glared at him 
 through his spectacles, and attempted to cut into the conversa- 
 tion at every opportunity. As soon as he had succeeded in estab- 
 lishing question and answer between himself and his elderly 
 hostess, Herr Katzenmusick in his turn would attempt to divert 
 her attention by asking in a loud voice whether she had heard so- 
 and-so on the violin, or had been to some one else's concert. At 
 dinner the Rev. C. T. INIudbury Dawson was on her right and 
 the harpist on her left. To Ealph was assigned the bottom of 
 the table, and his neighbours were Marian and her governess, 
 both of whom generally shared his aunt's meals. The conversa- 
 tion between the three at the other end was so absorbing and so- 
 loud, in consequence of the violent attempts each made to attract 
 Miss Nettlerash's attention, that Ealph had not a chance of find- 
 ing out what the real object of the invitation had been. He 
 would not have discovered it all the evening if Marian had not 
 herself told him that she had taken to riding, and that Miss- 
 Nettlerash had been good enough to buy a pony for her. 
 
 . L 
 
146 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " Sucli a dear, beautiful pony," she added, "but he has got a 
 bad cold, and Miss Nettlerash wants you to look at him. She 
 sent for a horse doctor, a veterinary surgeon I think they call 
 him, and he said he was afraid that he could not cure the pony. 
 I am dreadfully sorry," added the girl, " because he is so very 
 nice and pleasant to ride. I never had a pony before in my life, 
 and I don't want to lose him." 
 
 '* But my Aunt Janet talked of buying a horse," said Ralph. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Marian, " I know she is very kind. She 
 «aid if this one would not do you should look out for another 
 for me. I should be ver^ sorry to part with dear Fiaven, but I 
 dare say you will tell us what is the matter with him." 
 
 Little by little Ealph drew out from the girl the whole history 
 of the purchase. Before dinner was over he had pretty well 
 made up his mind that the most guileless of ladies had been 
 cheated by a clever coper. But of course he kept his opinion to 
 himself. The two eminent men entirely occupied his aunt's 
 attention until she retired. Passing out she said — 
 
 " Ealph, will you look after the two gentlemen? Mr. Dawson, 
 I know, takes no wine, but I daresay you and Herr Katzenmusick 
 will find something that you like." 
 
 Ralph noticed that when the Rev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson 
 heard jNIiss Nettlerash's assertion on his abstinence he made a 
 grimace. But he was scarcely prepared to see the reverend 
 gentleman fill up a bumper of port the moment the door was 
 <;losed. 
 
 "It pleases the old cat," said Mr. Dawson, " but she is quite 
 mistaken if she thinks a man can do without a glass of wine. 
 You and I know better, don't we, Mr. Branscombe ?" 
 
 And Avith these words he nudged Ralph in the ribs. Now no 
 one was less tolerant of his aunt's special fancies than Ralph, 
 but he detested the idea of anyone using them for his own 
 advantage. He would have liked to call Mr. Dawson a hypo- 
 crite, but as he was in his aunt's house, and played, so to speak, 
 the part of the host, he could only coldly incline his head and 
 allow Mr. Dawson to help himself. The German, at any rate, 
 
A BAD COLD. 147 
 
 did not pretend to be a teetotaler. He drank freely, tbongli not 
 immoderately, but he could only manage one glass to tlie Rev. 
 C T. Mudbury Dawson's two. It was a relief to llalpli when 
 tbe elderly maid- servant (for Miss Nettlerash would not keep a 
 man in tbe bouse) entered and announced that tbe gentlemen 
 would find coffee in tbe drawing-room. In tbe drawing-room 
 tbey found not only coffee, but a grand piano set open, witb a 
 harp by tbe side of it. 
 
 "Now," said Miss Nettlerash, "you shall have a treat. 
 Herr Katzenmusick, what shall we begin with ? " 
 
 Herr Katzenmusick looked as if he would rather not begin at 
 all, as his audience was small, and not inclined to be apprecia- 
 tive. Herr Katzenmusick was above all unwilling to waste 
 his sweetness on persons who would not advertise hira nor 
 praise him up to the skies. But board and lodgings and Miss 
 Nettlerasb's protection had to be paid for; so, disguising 
 his unwillingness under a sweet smile, tbe bearded gentleman 
 bowed and said, " Whatever Miss Nettlerash pleases." 
 
 There is no instrument more painful than the harp, unless 
 tbe performer has extraordinary talent, and is accompanied in 
 tbe most perfect manner. If these two elements are combined 
 it is one of the sweetest and most beautiful. When they are 
 not it is little short of torture to listen to it for very long. Now 
 Miss Nettlerasb's fingers had long lost tbe elasticity of youth, 
 and Miss Nettlerasb's eyes were not as strong as they used to 
 be, so the result was that she sometimes read the right note, 
 but touched the wrong one, and sometimes read the wrong one 
 and touched it. Advancing years, too, did not improve her 
 hearing powers, so that most of her fiilse notes were not audible 
 to herself. Bang, bang ! she went on the piano, and strum, 
 Btrum ! went Herr Katzenmusick on the harp, amidst the 
 respectful silence of the listeners. Mr. Mudbury Dawson 
 dropped asleep in an arm-chair after several vain attempts to 
 dislodge the enemy, Avbile Ralph, pining for a smoke, sought 
 consolation in a whispered talk witb Marian, who j^leased him 
 with her naivete, her intense gratitude to Miss Nettlerash, and her 
 
148 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 anxiety to become an accomplished horsewoman. She tolcl him 
 of her studies, and showed him her drawings, and towards the 
 end of the evening became so confidential as to admit that having 
 seen the hounds twice or thrice pass through Silverstone, her 
 greatest Avish in hfe was to go out with them. INIeanwhile the 
 bang, bang ! and strum, strum ! went on ahiiost uninterruptedly, 
 the only pause being between the pieces, when Ealph almost 
 unconsciously clapped his hands, and Marian frequently said, 
 " How pretty ; how very lovely that piece is ! " while the reve- 
 rend gentleman murmured an unintelligible approval. Had it 
 not been for Marian's pleasant prattle Ealph would have felt it 
 impossible to sit out the evening. As it was, his nerves 
 gradually became as tense as the harp-strings themselves, and 
 every fibre seemed to be going strum, strum, with that instru- 
 ment. At last the Kev. C. T. IMudbury Dawson's snores 
 became so audible as to arouse even Miss Nettlerash's attention. 
 She left the piano, and saying, " Poor man, poor dear man, he 
 is quite exhausted with his lectures," approached the sleeping 
 clerg^•man, whose lower jaw had fallen, while his round nose gave 
 forth stertorous snorts. She laid her hand gently on his shoulder. 
 
 " You are very tired, Mr. Dawson," she said. " Had you not 
 better retire to your chamber?" 
 
 " Eh, what ? " gasped Mr. Dawson, waking up suddenly. 
 When he became conscious of the situation he murmured, '* Beg 
 your pardon; over-work; fatigue; too many lectures." 
 
 The bed-room candles were rung for, and INIr. Dawson was 
 accompanied to the foot of the stairs by his kind hostess, while 
 Herr Katzenmusick drew the cover over the harp, and Marian 
 put the music in order. 
 
 " No smoke," thought Ealph, with a sigh — a sigh which he 
 ventured to express audibly to the young girl. 
 
 "I can manage it for you," she said. " Only you must not 
 tell." 
 
 " Of course not," Ealph replied. 
 
 " You may smoke in the school-room, may he not, IMiss 
 J(;nuinKS ? Miss Nettlerash will never know. It is at the end 
 
A BAD COLD. 149 
 
 of the long passage, quite away from the house, and I daresay 
 the fire is scarcely out yet." 
 
 Miss Jennings assented, for she had been governess in houses 
 where the young men had considered smoking as necessary 
 as eating. So, while Miss Nettlerash looked after the comforts 
 of the somewhat dirty German, who admitted he would like a 
 glass of beer before retiring, Kalph was conducted by Marian 
 luilf-way up the stairs, where a door led into a long passage, at 
 the end of which was a large chamber, formerly used as a bil- 
 liard-room, and recently converted into a school-room for Marian's 
 use. Both Miss Jennings and tlie little girl assured him that 
 Miss Nettlerash scarcely ever entered this part of the house, and 
 disappeared, leaving Ralph to his cigarette and his thoughts. 
 
 Next morning at breakfast Miss Nettlerash at last broached 
 the subject of the pony, and told at full length the story of 
 which our readers know both sides, while she only knew her 
 own. The German, dirtier-looking in the morning than in the 
 evening, was silent and cross. His rival declared himself on 
 the sick list, and asked for a cup of tea in his room. Herr 
 Katzenmusick became still grumpier when after breakfast Miss 
 Nettlerash announced that she was going to show her nephew 
 the stables. Perhaps he would like to practise in the drawing- 
 room meanwhile '? He preferred accompanying the party, 
 though he did not know a horse from a donkey, and remained 
 at a respectful distance outside the stable door for fear the 
 iinimals should break loose and eat him. Ealph examined the 
 pony as well as any one not a professional vet. could do. Eaven 
 looked a very nice beast in the stable. His legs were sound 
 though rather knocked about, and his appearance left very little 
 to be desired. There was no occasion to frighten the ladies 
 by the well-known thumps which are supposed to tell whether 
 a horse is sound in his wind or not. After a little time Ralph 
 suggested that Marian should take a ride on Raven, while 
 lie would accompany her on one of the venerable carriage horses. 
 Bingham at first strongly objected to this arrangement, but 
 Ralph thought that in this case it was better to be diplomatic. 
 
150 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 and took occasion to whisper to the coachman, "I will make it 
 all right for you." In half an hour they started, first quietly on 
 the road, then turning up a green lane a little faster, and finally^ 
 when they reached Home Wood Common, at a sharp canter. 
 The faster they went, the more the pony wheezed and coughed. 
 His flanks heaved, and he showed every symptom of distress. 
 There was no mistake ahout it, poor liaven was completely gone 
 in his wind and ahsolutely incurable. To persevere in a gallop 
 would have been mere cruelty. So Ralph pulled up and took 
 his charge slowly home. As they rode up the drive "strum, 
 strum," welcomed them from the house, and Ralph, feeling him- 
 self incapable of facing any more harp for the present, fled to 
 the stables. 
 
 " That pony has got a very bad cold," he said to Mr, Bingham. 
 
 *' I am afraid he has, sir," said Mr. Bingham, respectfully. 
 
 "lam afraid it will take a long time to cure," continued 
 Ralph. 
 
 " I am afraid it will, sir," agreed Bingham. " Very sorry, sir, 
 nothing the matter with the pony when he came." 
 
 " Very likely not," assented Ralph, " but he is very bad now." 
 
 " That he is, sir," Bingham agreed, glad to see that Ralph 
 took the same view of the matter that his mistress did. 
 
 " Touched in his vnnd a little, I think," Ralph went on. 
 
 "I am afraid he is," replied the man sadly. 
 
 *' Broken-winded," hazarded Ralph. 
 
 "Think so, sir?" answered Bingham. 
 
 " I do." 
 
 "I am afraid it is very likely, sir," continued Bingham 
 dejectedly. 
 
 " No fault of yours, of course," added our hero, anxious to 
 reassure the old man, although he knew perfectly well that 
 Bingham had had some plunder out of the transaction. 
 
 " Glad you think so, sir," said the coachman, with the air of 
 a man who sees Ils reputation re-established. 
 
 " Well, of course not," continued Ralph. " But Miss Nettle- 
 rash had better get rid of the pony at once." 
 
A BAD COLD. 
 
 151 
 
 "I think she had, sh'," assented Bingham jauntily, haviufj 
 quite recovered his spirits, and foreseeing another couple of 
 sovereigns at least on the sale. 
 
 "And buy another," added Ralph, moving towards the house, 
 
 " Yes, sir, must buy another," Bingham agreed very cheerily, 
 now seeing another ten pounds looming in the distance. 
 
 "And look here, Bingham," said Ealph, turning round just 
 before entering the house, ^' you will sell that pony." 
 
 "If Miss Nettlerash pleases, yes, sir," answered Bingham 
 cheerfully and respectfully. 
 
 "But," said Ealph, "/ shall buy the other," and he nodded 
 and disappeared. 
 
 Bingham stood looking at the door as it closed behind him. 
 
 "Drat that young chap," he muttered, "he knows a daru 
 sight too much. It ain't no use quarrelling with him anyhow. 
 / shall sell the pony, that is one comfort." 
 
 He did so, for seven pounds. But Pialpli bought another 
 within the next few days — a sharp pleasant chestnut, with less 
 show but more breeding than Raven. And though at first 
 Marian w^as disappointed because his mane was hogged and his 
 tail docked, she soon appreciated the new purchase at his true 
 value, and was thankful to Ralph for having taken the trouble to 
 find him for her. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CONGEATULATIONS. 
 
 WAS not till the 
 Saturday following 
 tliat Ealpli was at 
 last able to get free, 
 and his impatience 
 would not allow 
 him to go to War- 
 horo' and thence to 
 Branscombe Hall. 
 "Warboro' was by no 
 means the nearest station for Branscombe. The Hall was 
 about four miles from Donnington, and six from Chalford Junc- 
 tion. Both places were on the route from London to Warboro', 
 but the fastest trains did not stop at either, so that Warboro' 
 was occasionally used as most convenient, notwithstanding the 
 long drive thence to Branscombe Hall. The two o'clock on 
 Saturday, however, stopped at Chalford, where Ralph took a fly 
 so as to reach his uncle's house before afternoon tea. 
 
 The anxiety with which he was looking forward to Diana's 
 answer was not perhaps that which would be felt by an en- 
 thusiastic lover of the romantic school in the frame of mind 
 normal to his condition. For such a man considers his mis- 
 tress to be scarcely lower than the angels, and certainly 
 without a fault. He looks forward to marriage with her as 
 the gate to bliss, pure and unalloyed. Now, though Ralph 
 had crossed his Rubicon, and though his admiration and aftec- 
 tion for his cousin wore as deep as they were sincere, yet, 
 as we have already noted, he was neither blind nor deaf ; and 
 though his love inspired him with the hope of being able to cure 
 
CONGE ATULATIONS. 153 
 
 Diana of licr flirting propensities, yet was that hope by no means 
 very sanguine. And he was nervously uncomfortable with the 
 consciousness that his engagement to Diana, if engagement 
 there were, would cause a great many people to shrug their 
 sliould(>rs and a good many others to whisper, not quite inaudi- 
 bly, behind his back : so that his frame of mind was not that 
 of the ordinary hopeful lover — jubilant with anticipations of 
 happiness ; nor of the despairing one — wretched with the cer- 
 tainty of refusal. It varied greatly : occasionally he looked on 
 the bright side only, and felt sure that Diana Avould be a sweet 
 wife to him, and that he would make her so happy that she 
 would not even dream of a flirtation. A few moments later he 
 would abuse himself for a fool to marry a notorious coquette, 
 who was sure to make him miserable if she did not disgrace 
 him. When the fly drew up at the porch of Branscombe Hall 
 he was in his sanguine mood, and at once made his way to 
 his cousin's boudoir. She and Mrs. Gore were together, as on 
 that Sunday : the latter slipped away directly after the usual 
 greetings had passed. Ralph lost no time in coming to the point. 
 *' Dear Diana," he said, raising her hand and kissing it, "I have 
 come for my answer." 
 
 The girl, who was paler than usual, betrayed no sign of 
 emotion as she replied : — 
 
 " I felt sure you would soon come. But would it not be 
 better to drop the question and forget that you asked it ? " 
 
 " Darling, that is impossible," exclaimed Ralph, drawing his 
 low chair close up to his cousin's. "You know I love you too 
 much for that." 
 
 Diana sighed, thinking of Colonel Mannering's brief adieu 
 on the doorstep. "Marry him," was all he had said, when he 
 took leave. 
 
 "Ralph," she said at last, "it would not be fair for me to 
 accept you. Do you really love me so much ? " 
 
 "Listen," answered he, taking both her hands in his, and 
 looking tenderly into her face ; " ever since I was quite a baby I 
 have never thought of any other girl but yourself ; you were my 
 
154 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 little treasure and my pet -wbeii I used to come home from Eton 
 and bring 30U toys and bonbons ; you were my little darling 
 wben I ^Yas at Cambridge, and as you grew up so did my love for 
 you grow. My lieart bas not been filled by sclioolboy fancies or 
 a fresbman's flirtation. I have never cared about anyone else, 
 and I do not suppose I ever sball. All tbat is possible to make 
 you bappy I will do ; I will be a true and fond busband to you if 
 you will let me." 
 
 Tbe impassive Diana was moved. "But Ealpb," sbo said, 
 " I cannot say I love you like tbat." 
 
 "I know you do not," cried Ralpb, " but I will tcacli you." 
 
 " I am afraid you will not succeed," said Diana, gently. 
 
 " Diana," repeated be, " my love for you will make you return 
 it, if ." 
 
 " If wbat ? " asked tbe girl wben be stopped. 
 
 " If you do not love some one else. Tell me, do you ? " 
 
 Wbat sbould sbe answer '? Tbe trutb, and plunge ber cousin 
 into despair, and anger ber uncle, and possibly destroy ber 
 future ? Or deceive Ralpb and make bim a bajipy man now, even 
 tbougli be migbt be Avretcbed later ? Besides, was it tbe trutb ? 
 Did sbe love Colonel Manncring ? Had not tbe Colonel bimself 
 advised ber, wben be left Branscombe Hall, wbispering tboso 
 few words in tbe porcb as be took leave '? Did sbe not ratber 
 bate bim wbo bad stolen into her beart so rutblessly, to desert 
 her and leave her to a rival, when be ought to have come forward 
 to claim her hand '? 
 
 "Cannot you answer?" asked Ralph, when sbe bad been 
 silent for a few moments, while these thoughts coursed through 
 her brain and made ber temples throb. 
 
 "I was thinking," she answered. "No, I do not love 
 any one else." 
 
 " Then I am sure, quite sure of making you love me some 
 day, as warmly as I love you, darling," cried Ralph, clasping her 
 in his arms, and kissing her cold lips passionately. " May I tell 
 Uncle Henry tbat you consent ? " 
 
 "If you wish it, Ralph," answered Diana, releasing herself. 
 
CONGKATULATIONS. 155 
 
 And so it was settled. Sir Henry Branscombe, to wliom Rulph 
 made a brief but sufficient announcement before he joined his 
 cousin in the drawing-room, scarcely looked as pleased as his 
 nephew had expected. " Glad to hear it, my boy, glad to hear 
 it," was all he said, shaking Ralph warmly by the hand. But 
 then, instead of joining the party at tea as in old times, he re- 
 mained in his "justice-room" staring into the fire, with one 
 hand on the mantel-shelf and a foot on the fender. Ralph could 
 not help noticing that he looked very ill, and his opinion was 
 corroborated by Diana and Mrs. Gore. Both agreed that the old 
 gentleman was extremely nervous about himself, depressed and 
 irritable, and that he did not ride with half the zest nor the 
 vigour he had displayed but a few weeks before. 
 
 Sir Henry was, however, quite well enough to remember what 
 he ought to do under the circumstances. After dinner he in- 
 formed his nephew that he j)roposed going up to town next 
 day to see Messrs. Penner and Inkstone, the family solicitors, 
 so that the necessary financial arrangements might at once be 
 made. He also expressed a wish that the wedding should be as 
 soon as possible, as he felt that his health was failing, and he 
 should like to see them married before it entirely broke down. 
 Ralph pooh-poohed the old gentleman's fears, but during the 
 evening Sir Henry asked Diana how long she would require for her 
 trousseau. This question involved a consultation with Mrs. Gore, 
 and the girl pleaded for delay ; but Sir Henry was so eager to 
 have the day settled, and so nervous about any postponement, 
 that it was fixed for the end of February, providing Ralph's 
 father and mother raised no special objection. 
 
 Early next morning Ralph rode over to the rectory, while 
 Sir Henry proceeded to town to instruct Messrs. Penner and 
 Inkstone. The Rev. George Branscombe was already out at 
 work in the parish, but Ralph found his mother at home, and 
 she received the news with unconcealed pleasure. 
 
 "At last!" she exclaimed. "Well, I began to think that 
 that giddy girl would go off with some foreign count or an officer 
 without a penny beyond his pay. Plow much will she have 
 
]56 FATR DIANA. 
 
 Ealph '? But wliat is the use of asking ? Of course you and slie 
 will have the whole of the Branscombe property between you. 
 You're really luckier thau you deserve, considering how long you 
 have been making up your mind. A good thing that Colonel is 
 got rid of. Don't you have him hanging about when you are 
 married, Ralph." 
 
 Mrs. ]jranscombe's congratulations did not make her son 
 much happier. As to his sisters, they seemed to be so over- 
 whelmed by the extraordinary nature of the intelligence, that 
 they were struck dumb. Only little Mar}^ remarked, " Diana 
 going to marry you, Ealph ? Why, I thought that she liked that 
 tall black gentleman much better/' for which she was duly 
 snubbed by Regina. 
 
 When the Reverend George came in, Ralph met him at the 
 gate, and led him into his snuggery. 
 
 *' Father, I have come to tell you that I am engaged to Diana. 
 With your approval we are to be married in February." 
 
 " Engasced to Diana ? Are vou serious ? " 
 
 " I am indeed, father. I love her with all my heart." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it, my boy," said the rector hastily. 
 
 " Sorry, father ! is that all you have to say to me ? " 
 
 " Not all I might say, dear boy, but the news surprises me. 
 Of course I ought not to have said that I was sorry." 
 
 *' But arc you sorry ? " asked Ralph. '' ^Vhy ? " 
 
 The rector tried to get over his indiscretion, but stumbled and 
 blundered dreadfully in the attempt. " Well, I am astonished, 
 I mean, and we shall be sorry to lose you." 
 
 " But you won't lose me, father ; on the contrary, I am to give 
 up Brown Hollands. I shall be at the Hall oftener than any- 
 v.here else, and I hope to see more of you." 
 
 The rector did not answer. His mobile lower lip and small 
 clihi were trembling. At last he said : — 
 
 " I hope you will be happy, Ralph ; and I hope she will make 
 you as good a wife as you deserve." Then he seized his son's 
 hand and clasped it warmly. 
 
 " I shall try and make her happy," replied Ralph, adding 
 
CONGRATULATIONS. 157 
 
 cliivulrously, " and I only hope that I shall he as good a hushand 
 as she deserves." 
 
 " That I am sure you will," replied the rector, again pressing 
 his son's hand. " God hless you, my hoy ; may He have led you 
 right in this matter. That is all I pray for." 
 
 And the good man wiped away a tear which had furtively 
 stolen down his cheek. He, too, had his douhts, and his con- 
 gratulations were not more likel}- to make Ealph quite happy 
 than those of the rest of the family. 
 
 That same day Ralph wrote a letter to Miss Nettlerash, to in- 
 form her of the happy event, and then returned to the Hall. It 
 was not quite pleasant, a few hours later, to hear that Sir Henry 
 had hrought Mr. Throgmorton Toms from town with him. 
 That little gentleman had, indeed, returned our hero his pro- 
 missory note when Ralph sent him a cheque for two hundred, 
 hut he had not forgiven the scene at the Colonnade Cluh. A 
 nobler nature than Mr. Throgmorton Toms' might have felt sore 
 over such a snub ; but the city man knew how to conceal his 
 feelings. Greeting Ralph, as usual, with, "How do?" and 
 extending five fingers to be grasped instead of three, for the 
 engagement made him effusive, he said, " Glad to hear the 
 news, Ralph. Now you don't want gold mines, eh ? You've 
 found one ready to hand, nearer than Utopia?" This with a 
 chuckle, and in a low whisper. " Ah," he went on, louder, 
 "this sort of thing makes one quite young again, don't it, 
 Sir Henry ? " 
 
 After dinner INIr. Toms took advantage of the old gentleman 
 taking forty winks to tell Ralph, as if it were the pleasantest 
 thing in the world, that " Mrs. Toms always said Diana would 
 marry the Colonel, and was quite surprised to hear the news." 
 
 But all this was as nothing to the storm of the next day. 
 Ral^jh had occasion to ride over to Warboro' again, and Diana 
 consented to accompany him on a visit to her future parents. 
 The rector's man-of-all-work having taken charge of their horses, 
 the two walked unannounced into the drawing-room. There 
 they found Miss Nettlerash walking up and down, gesticulating 
 
158 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 excitedly, and talking in a loud voice. The ^vol•ds Ealpli liciird 
 as he opened the door were : 
 
 " How you can let him marry a girl like that, INIaud ! A girl 
 who has quite lost her character." 
 
 It was too late to retreat. Ealpli could only hlush violently 
 and hope that Diana had not heard his aunt. She suddenly 
 stopped when she saw Ralph, but went on in a moment : 
 
 " There he is ! I don't care. JIc, at any rate, ought to listen 
 to me, before " 
 
 " Certainly, Aunt Janet," said Ealph, stepping forward and 
 taking Diana's hand. " This is Miss Diana Branscombe, the 
 young lady who has promised to marry me. I hope you will be 
 as kind to her as you have been to me." 
 
 Diana may or may not have heard the old lady's observations. 
 She looked paler than ever, but then her want of colour might 
 have been caused by the excitement inevitably accompanying a 
 visit like the present one. At any rate she bowed gracefully, 
 and waited for Miss Nettlerash to take the next step. 
 
 That lady turned red and pale by turns, and glared all round. 
 Mrs. Branscombe, however, rose to the occasion. "Whatever her 
 faults may have been, she was not likely to be taken aback by a 
 social difficulty. She stepped forward, exclaiming : 
 
 " My dearest Diana, lam so glad ! " and folded the girl in her 
 arms. 
 
 Then, seizing her by both hands, she said : " You are dread- 
 fully cold after your ride, dear. Let me take you to my 
 room ; I am sure I can find you some warm clothes to put 
 on instead of that riding habit all wet with the nasty fog." 
 And she whirled Diana off, leaving Miss Nettlerash and Ralph 
 together. 
 
 " I have just been giving your mother a piece of my mind, 
 Ralph," said the old lady. " How she can be such a fool as to 
 rejoice over this match is more than I can understand. And as 
 to your father . But then he always was an idiot." 
 
 " Aunt Janet," exclaimed Ralph, " I cannot allow you to talk 
 in this v,-ay." 
 
COXG RATULATIONS. 159 
 
 "Allow me, indeed! " said Miss Nettlerasb. ''"Why, I sup- 
 pose I need not ask your leave to speak as I please. But ifs no 
 use arguing with i/ou. Of course you're in love with the girl, and 
 I might as well argue with a stuck pig. I don't blame you ; 
 men always make fools of themselves about girls, and the more 
 the girls flirt the better you seem to like them. But your 
 23arents ought to know better. They are neglecting their duty 
 shamefully." 
 
 " You must not abuse my parents, nor the lady I am going to 
 marry," replied Kalph, indignantly. *' Besides, I am of age, and 
 did not ask their leave." 
 
 " I daresay not, you headstrong young fool," answered Miss 
 Janet. " No doubt you did not do what you ought to have done, 
 and did do what you ought not to have done. You'll be sorry 
 for it by-and-by." 
 
 "I hope not, Aunt Janet," said Ealpli, trying to control himself. 
 
 ** Jhope not, too," Miss Nettlerasb went on; "but you will, 
 for all our hoping. I may as well go now, before Miss Di. comes 
 downstairs again." 
 
 " Is that all you have to say to me, aunt," asked Ralph, 
 sadly, " when all my friends are congratulating me ? " 
 
 " It is because I am really your friend that I don't congratulate 
 3"ou," replied Miss Nettlerasb. " Mrs. Dawson and I were talking 
 about that girl only last night." 
 
 " D n Mrs. Dawson," muttered Ralph. And then, louder, 
 
 *' What business have people talking about her"? " 
 
 " Everybody has been talking about her ; that is the worst of 
 it," retorted his aunt. "It is not people's fault, it's hers." 
 
 " They will have to stop their talk now, then," said Ralph, 
 hotly. 
 
 " Do you think .?/o it can stop people talking, Ralph?" asked 
 Miss Nettlerasb, with some contempt. "Poor boy! Now help 
 me on with my shawl, and tell me where I can go to change my 
 boots. I always bring a dry pair with me," and with these words 
 Miss Nettlerasb lifted up her dress, and her black silk petticoat 
 under it, and produced from the pocket of the woollen under- 
 
160 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 petticoat a long narrow parcel wliieh contained the dry boots in 
 question. 
 
 Ealpli led the old lady to liis father's sanctum. " You will ho 
 undisturbed here," he said, half-way between anger and amuse- 
 ment ; " my father is out.'' 
 
 After some ten minutes Miss Nettlerash completed her toilet, 
 Diana and Mrs. Branscombe not having yet reappeared, for, as 
 Ealpli guessed, his mother preferred keeping the girl upstairs 
 till the coast was clear. The fly was summoned, and Miss 
 Nettlerash said, before climbing into it : 
 
 " Good-bye, Ralph. I do really hope you will be happy, 
 though I Imow it's no use hoping. I'm sorry for you, dear 
 Ralph, very sorry." And before he knew what was going ta 
 happen, she threw her skinny arms round him and kissed him 
 ■warmly. Then she was gone. 
 
 -^z? 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A HAPPY COUPLE. 
 
 DID not take long to arrange 
 matters witli Messrs. Brovni, 
 Holland, & Co. Mr. Brown, 
 senior, expressed his regrets 
 at having to part with so 
 promising an assistant as 
 Ealph. Mr. Brown, junior, 
 said, " Sorry you're going, 
 old f'lla', but glad you're 
 marrying money ; " and Mr. 
 Holland shook hands warmly and told our hero that if he 
 ever found himself on his beam-ends he knew where there 
 was a billet for him and a knife and fork. It was understood 
 that Ralph would, after the marriage, live at the Hall with 
 his wife. But meanwhile it was arranged between them that 
 the honey-moon should be prolonged into a Continental tour 
 of three months at least. Ralph had never travelled beyond 
 Paris, and Diana had not even crossed the Channel ; so 
 when the fortunate suitor suggested to the young lady that it 
 would be a good idea to take a leisurely tour abroad, beginning 
 with Naples and travelling quietly towards the north as the 
 weather grew warmer, her eyes sparkled for the first time since 
 their engagement. Ralph hated the idea of trj-ing to "do" 
 Italy in a fortnight, or the " grand tour " in twenty-eight 
 days, and proposed stopping where they pleased and as long 
 as they liked, unfettered by Cook's tickets or the necessity of 
 being home by a certain date. This, too, was accepted by 
 Diana, and to the hard work of preparing the trousseau in 
 z hurry, and without the aid of a mother, was added that 
 
 u 
 
162 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 of providing all the necessary luxuries for a prolonged journey. 
 Thus during the days of their engagement Ralph saw but little 
 of his bride, except when she was busy over choosing dresses, 
 ordering cloaks, or selecting lace. He scarcely ever obtained a 
 quarter of an hour in tcte-a-tcte, and when he did, Diana seemed 
 preoccupied and cold. She let him kiss her cheek or her lips, 
 but the cheek was cold as marble and the lips were irresponsive. 
 There was nothing whatever he could justly find fault with. 
 The Colonel seemed to have sunk below their horizon. Diana 
 flirted with no one, and spent her time in the necessary prepara- 
 tions for the wedding. She went up to town and drove about 
 shopping with Mrs. Gore or Mrs. Throgmortou Toms. She 
 always received Ralph with a gentle smile, and never took any 
 important decision without consulting him. And yet he was so 
 unreasonable as not to be satisfied. There was something want- 
 ing, though Ralph could not have explained what she ought to 
 have done, or what have left undone. As time went on, the 
 ■wedding presents began to arrive, and to his great surprise, the 
 most valuable of all came from Miss Janet Nettlerash. There 
 was nothing with it except her card, but the present itself was 
 incomparably the finest they received. Ralph suggested that 
 Diana should write a note thanking his aunt. He then discovered 
 for the first time that those unpleasant remarks had been over- 
 heard. 
 
 " No, Ralph," she said, " I can't forgive that woman for 
 saying that I had lost my character. You may write and thank 
 her if you like ; I shall not." 
 
 Ralph w-as rather of the same opinion, and yet he felt that ho 
 ought to do something ; so he decided upon running down to 
 Silverstone and thanking his aunt in person. He found the 
 pony in excellent health, and Marian growing fonder of Abendigo 
 ^•■[aily — for that was the euphonious name the young lady had 
 bestowed on her favourite. ]\Iiss Nettlerash was out to hear a 
 lecture from Mr. Mudbury Dawson, at a neighbouring Mechanics' 
 Institute, so, in her absence, Marian and her governess received 
 him. It was pretty to see how thoroughly attached the horse 
 
A HAPPY COUPLE. 1G3 
 
 had become to its young owner. There was a joyous ucigli the 
 moment she entered the stable. Then Abendigo rushed to the 
 door of his loose box and tried to push his little nose through 
 the bars. When Marian opened it the pony's head was on her 
 shoulder at once, and he followed her out into the yard like a 
 dog. Nothing would do but that she should show her horse- 
 manship, and Abendigo was quickly saddled while she put on a 
 skirt. Then, Kalph being at the gate watching her, Marian 
 took him round the paddock and over a couple of hurdles. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Branscombe," she said, pulling up close to him, 
 " do you think I could go out with the hounds ? " 
 
 *' I should think so," replied Ralph ; " but you often get 
 more difficult jumps than those hurdles, if you want really to 
 ride to hounds, and not merely canter down lanes." 
 
 " Oh, I quite know that," answered the girl, " and you have 
 not seen all Abendigo can do. Just stand aside a minute, 
 please." 
 
 Ralph did not know how she intended to show oft', but was 
 soon enlightened. Setting the pony's head straight for the gate 
 she cantered at it, her little mouth tightly pursed up and with a 
 look of determination in her eyes which meant business ; a slight 
 touch with the whip, and Abendigo bucked over the gate, which 
 was almost as high as himself, and landed safely on the gravel 
 drive. 
 
 " Will that do ? " she asked Ralph, proudly. 
 
 "Very well, indeed," replied he, clapping his hands. "1 
 will ask my aunt to let me take you out as soon as I have a 
 chance." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Marian, sadly, " that will be never. You are 
 going to be married and we sha'n't see anything of you then." 
 
 "Why not?" asked he. "Must not married men ride to 
 hounds ? " 
 
 " That's not it," replied the girl; " but I think Miss Brans- 
 combe does not like Miss Janet, and I know Miss Janet does not 
 like hci-:' 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it," answered Ralph, gravely. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 ** So am I, if it vexes you," Marian went on ; " I ought not 
 to have said anything about it." 
 
 " Never mind, Marian ; on the whole I prefer your being quite 
 frank with me. But I hope my aunt will get over her prejudices 
 when we are married. She and you must come and stay at 
 Branscombe Hall." 
 
 " Never," answered the girl, looking away and flicking 
 Abendigo's flank, so that he started off" towards the stables. 
 "Never." 
 
 Mr. Bingham had been on his good behaviour since Ralph's 
 declaration about Baven. He felt that his tenure of office 
 depended to some extent on the young man, and at the same 
 time he quite understood that our hero had no intention of inter- 
 fering in the weekly bills, as long as the horses were fit to go. 
 Ralph had from the very first perceived that his aunt was being 
 robbed. But he also saw that a maiden lady who knew nothing 
 of horses was pretty sure to be robbed, and he therefore limited 
 his efforts to taking care that she should have decent animals 
 kept in good condition. A hint to Bingham on the subject of 
 the poor appearance of the old greys was enough, and to-day 
 when his aunt drove up the avenue he noticed how much better 
 they looked. It was evident that they now had a chance of 
 getting about half the corn charged for. In former times they 
 were lucky if they got one-tenth. 
 
 Miss Nettlerash received her nephew with the remark that he 
 had missed a treat by not hearing Mr. Dawson's lecture on the 
 English language. " You really must come to hear that extra- 
 ordinary man, Ralph. You cannot imagine how interesting he 
 makes the most ordinary topics. I used to think that Mrs. 
 Dawson was the cleverer of the two. But do you know, I have 
 almost changed my mind ; I really have." 
 
 Ralph was supremely indifferent as to whether the husband or 
 the wife possessed the most talent, and at once thanked his aunt 
 for her handsome present. 
 
 " 1 am glad you liked it, Ralph, and I only wish you had 
 chosen some one else as your vrifo." 
 
A HAPPY COUPLE. 165 
 
 *, 
 
 "My dear aunt," exclaimed Ealpli, hotly, "if you speak like 
 that I must send your present back." 
 
 " Don't be such a fool," answered Miss Nettlerash. " You 
 ought to be glad I do not bear malice, instead of being offended at 
 a very natural remark of mine. What does Miss Branscombe 
 know of woman's work and woman's duties ? How can I wel- 
 come as my niece a girl who has no idea of the proper sphere of 
 a woman's activity, who has never read a decent book in her life, 
 and whose whole thoughts are devoted to frivolity ? " 
 
 " You wrong her. Aunt Janet," urged Ralph. " You should 
 learn to know her, and you Vv'ould find her much cleverer than 
 you think." 
 
 " Fudge ! " answered Miss Nettlerash. " But it's of no use 
 talking to you no2i', I know that; I am not so silly as you 
 think." 
 
 " Aunt ! " expostulated Ralph. 
 
 " Oh, 3^es, I know you all think me a silly old woman, your 
 mother included, but wait a year or two and you'll admit I am 
 right." 
 
 " I hope I never shall, Aunt Janet." 
 
 " So do I, Ralph." 
 
 And thus the conversation on the topic of the engagement 
 ended. It was the last time Ralph saw his aunt before the 
 wedding, which took place a fortnight later. Sir Henry Brans- 
 combe, whose cheques had flowed like water, was anxious for a 
 ver}^ grand wedding indeed, and wished for a bishop at least to 
 tie the bonds between his nephew and niece ; but Diana succeeded 
 at last in having her way, and her way was a very quiet one. 
 The rector of Branscombe parish, assisted by the Reverend 
 George, performed the ceremony, and no one was invited except 
 near relations. Miss Nettlerash was asked, notwithstandincc 
 Diana's objection, but she declined to come. The day was line, 
 and nothing disturbed the proceedings except one trifling circum- 
 stance. Ralph fancied, as he walked up the aisle, that he saw a 
 dark face peering out of the shadow of the little gallery by the 
 organ — a face he remembered to have seen first at the covert 
 
16G 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 side, near Beech Grove. But this might have been only fancy, 
 for when the happy bridegroom led his bride to the carriage 
 ^vhich was to convey them to breakfast at the Hall, his anxious 
 look all round failed to detect anyone but neighbours and 
 friends. Mr. Saintsbury SnuftTjox pushed forward to shake hands 
 with the happy bridegroom, and even Sir Henry buried the 
 hatchet and accepted the proffered mutton-chop fist, a condescen- 
 sion which was rewarded by the Holborn Vale cards (green-and- 
 gold) being thenceforth sent to him with a regularity which almost 
 drove him wild. 
 
 9 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A TRIP ABEOAD. 
 
 During the honeymoon, which was spent ahiiost entirely at 
 Naples and its neighhourhoocl, Ralph did not quite enjoy that 
 unalloyed bliss which is supposed to be the special characteristic 
 of this period. There was nothing, not even bad weather, to 
 disturb their happiness, yet Ralph felt that it was incomplete. 
 His wife was pleased with everything which was to both of them 
 strange and new. She would spend hours in the Toledo, wan- 
 dering about among the booths, and talking in broken Italian to 
 the ragged beggars ; she was delighted to bargain for an hour 
 with a picturesque rogue for an imitation tortoise-shell comb she 
 did not want. She was overwhelmed and amazed in Pompeii, 
 for she was fairly versed in classic literature, and every pave- 
 ment, every fresco, reminded her of something she had read ; 
 with Vesuvius she was fascinated, and disdaining the railway, 
 insisted on ascending the mountain on foot on two occasions. 
 There was not a drive nor a ride which did not open up to her 
 some new beauties, and make some fresh suggestions on an im- 
 pressionable mind. And Ralph sympathised with her in head 
 and heart. But all these attractions, great as they were, did 
 not make up to either, certainly not to both, for an unknown 
 quantity which seemed wanting when they were in their hotel 
 alone, and when they had sufficiently talked over the excursions 
 of the day. At first Ralph willingly attributed her silence and 
 pallor to fatigue or nervousness ; but when they had been away 
 nearly a month, when there was no especial cause for either, the 
 pallor and silence increased rather than diminished. She would 
 reply to his anxious inquiries that there was nothing the matter, 
 and would even appear a little irritated if he persisted in them. 
 She would accept his caresses without any response. She did 
 
168 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 not repel him, but slie seemed unable to be more than friendly. 
 Oecasionallj' she would sit for an hour at the window, gazing 
 over the glorious bay bathed in moonlight ; and then her eyes 
 would fill with tears, but if Ralph noticed them, they were 
 hastily wiped away, and she assured him that she was not sad. 
 
 She was surrounded by eveiT luxury Pialpli could procure, 
 and he lavished on her every attention his heart dictated. Sir 
 Henry Branscombe had handed him a thousand pounds for their 
 tour, and he was therefore unhampered by linancial considera- 
 tions. But the best carriages, the choicest dinners, the most 
 beautiful flowers ftiiled to please her more than just to extort an 
 apparently forced smile. When he brought her a set of corals, 
 which, as he said, would exactly suit her dark hair and her Italian 
 complexion, she just said, ** Thank you, Pialph, you are very 
 good to me." "When he refused an invitation to dine at a bache- 
 lor party on board the yacht of a friend he had run across, in 
 order that he, should not leave her alone the whole evening, 
 she merely remarked : " It is a pity not to go, Balph, instead of 
 stopping at the stupid hotel." And when on this hint he pro- 
 cured boxes at all the theatres where anything amusing and 
 intelligible was going on, she declared that she preferred remain- 
 ing at home to listening to plays of which she only understood 
 a portion. And as time went on, and the freshness of Naples 
 wore oif, her apathy increased, till Balpli suggested that as they 
 had seen all that there was to be seen, they had better move 
 northwards. This suggestion Diana accepted almost eagerly, 
 and the next evening found them installed in excellent rooms at 
 the Hotel Costan/a. 
 
 Meanwhile letters from home had arrived in due course. 
 There were two short, rather shaky scrawls from Sir Henry, and 
 about a fortnight after their departure Mrs. Gore wrote that 
 she was about to leave the Hall. This had been previously 
 arranged, as in fact there was now no reason for her remaining 
 there permanently; but as it had been understood that she was to 
 look after Sir Henry's household until the young couple returned, 
 her sudden departure rather surprised them. Mrs. Gore was a 
 
A TPilP ABROAD. 160 
 
 woman of extreme discretion, and was unlikely to compromise 
 herself by any positive verbal assertion ; still less w^ould she 
 write more than was absolutely necessary. Her letter informed 
 them that circumstances had arisen which made it wise for her 
 to leave at once ; that Sir Henry's health was worse rather than 
 better, and she was therefore rather anxious about him. But 
 Mrs. Gore gave no explanation of those circumstances, merely 
 mentioning in a postscript that Mr. and Mrs. Throgmortou 
 Toms had come down for a long visit. 
 
 " Regularly settled there, the little beast ! " exclaimed Ralph, 
 handing the letter back to Diana. " We shall have to get rid of 
 them somehow when we are home." 
 
 " You seem to dislike Mr. Toms very much," remarked 
 Diana. " What has he done to you ? " 
 
 " Nothing," replied Ralph, " but I have very good reasons for 
 disliking and mistrusting him." 
 
 " Tell me them," said Diana, with the curiosity of her sex and 
 of a wife. 
 
 " I am sorry to say, dearest Diana, that the little rogue has 
 bound me in honour not to tell of him. But you may depend 
 upon it that I have very good reason indeed for what I say." 
 
 " "Well, I cannot judge, of course, though I dare say you are 
 right. I do not care about Mr. Toms myself. But I am very 
 fond of his wife." 
 
 ** A fashionable, worldly woman," said Ralph. 
 
 ** A woman of the world," answered Diana, "and that is a 
 very dijBferent thing. She is clever and pleasant, and was very 
 kind to me." 
 
 " That is quite sufficient reason for me to like her, dearest," 
 replied Ralph, '* I will, in future. But don't you think, as I do, 
 that the Toms have, between them, got rid of Mrs. Gore ? " 
 
 " Why should they ? " asked Diana. " She did them no 
 harm. She was merely making herself useful at the Hall and 
 saving them trouble." 
 
 "Ah! why?" echoed Ralph. He did not at once find an 
 answer to the question. It puzzled him for some time, and he 
 
170 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 had almost forgotten to be anxious about it, "when they found 
 fresh letters at Eome. 
 
 This time there was nothing from Sir Henry. Mrs. Toms 
 wrote to Diana that the old gentleman was much in the same 
 condition, nervous and anxious about himself, but not really ill. 
 The Eev. George wrote to his son about the family and the 
 parish, and merely mentioned that he had not seen Sir Henry 
 lately, as on the last occasion of his riding over to Brauscombe 
 the old gentleman was said to be in town. So they concluded 
 that he was no Averse than when they left. 
 
 It was about a week after they had arrived at Eome. A lovely 
 evening in March, such an evening as we, in our wet island, 
 occasional!}' enjoy towards the end of May. They Avere in the 
 garden of Monte Pincio listening to the band, and walking 
 up and down among the merry crowd of people, Italians and 
 strangers, who had come up out of the narrow streets of the city 
 to breathe the pleasant spring air, and to inhale the perfume of 
 the flowers. The sun had not yet sunk to the horizon, but 
 behind the Castle of S. Elmo the sky was already glowing 
 with the scarlet hues of evening. They stepped to the parapet 
 of the terrace to look at the view, and watched the upper bends 
 of the Tiber as they gradually borroAved the brightness of the 
 sky, and contrasted with the blue mist which AA'as rising over the 
 flats of TrasteA'ere. There Avas someone leaning over the balus- 
 trade close to them — a man clad in a dark suit. Hearing Ealph 
 and Diana express their admiration he looked up sharply. 
 
 It Avas Colonel Mannering. There Avas a momentary hesita- 
 tion on Ealph's part, a momentary blush on Diana's cheek. 
 But the Colonel preserved his calmness perfectly. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Branscombe," he said, raising his hat 
 and shaking hands with Ealph first. " Hoav are you, Mrs. 
 Branscombe ? I never expected to find you here." 
 
 "What a fortunate thing it is that those Divine judgments of 
 Avhich Ave sometimes read, and by Avhich men and Avomeu are 
 stricken dead on the spot for uttering a falsehood, do not occur 
 very often. Hoav unpleasant, for instance, it Avould have been 
 
A TRIP ABROAD. 171 
 
 for the visitors to Monte Pincio if the handsome Englishman had 
 fallen down lifeless in the crowd of smart, well-dressed people, 
 bent on enjoying themselves ! No such judgment occurred ; big 
 though the falsehood, it was apparently not a case for Divine 
 intervention. Perhaps some allowance is made for people who 
 can plead love as an excuse, just as the London magistrates 
 take a lenient view of offences committed by drunken men, 
 after carefully telling the prisoners that drunkenness is only an 
 aggravating circumstance. 
 
 Any how, Ralph was so taken by surprise that he found him- 
 self shaking hands with Colonel Mannering before he knew what 
 he was about. Considering the circumstances afterwards, he 
 came to the conclusion that even had he possessed the most 
 perfect presence of mind, he would still have been obliged to 
 shake hands with the Colonel. In another minute the latter was 
 chattering away as if he had never made love to Diana in his life, 
 and as if he and Ealph had been bosom friends. 
 
 "Where are- you stopping?" he asked. *'Ah! Costanzi : 
 beautiful house, though it used to be rather feverish they say. 
 I dare say you will keep clear of fever. Don't stop out too late, 
 take care to wrap yourselves up well, and don't go into cold 
 churches when you are hot. 7'm at the old Pvome ; it's a good 
 place, though rather stufty. How is Sir Henry ? " 
 
 Scarcely had Ralph answered, when Colonel Mannering rattled 
 on : 
 
 " Almost time to move now, it's late, and the mist is coming 
 over. You must not get fever, you know. Let mo help you on 
 with your cloak." 
 
 And he deftly placed the mantle round Diana's shoulders. 
 Somehow he always managed that sort of thing so much better 
 than Ralph, who was inclined to be slightly clumsy. They 
 moved towards the steps, the Colonel walking between them. 
 
 " Have you not seen the Pope yet ? Oh, I know one of the 
 cardinals, and can get you an audience in no time. Of course 
 you must see his Holiness. A month at Naples ? You must 
 have been almost tired of it, for however beautiful, one gets 
 
172 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 weary of the Bay after a certain time. Did you enjoy the oysters 
 at Santa Lucia ? "What a pity ! you should not have missed 
 them. I am sorry that Sir Henry does not get any better ; you 
 shoukl persuade him to come out to Italy for a change, it would 
 set him up wonderfully, and make him ten years younger. Yes, 
 I have three weeks' leave, and the first is nearly up. (I wish the 
 third were, thought Kalph.) Is this your carriage '? what a 
 charming turn out ! Thank you, I will call to-morrow." 
 
 All this might have been heard ten yards off, and was public 
 property. But was not the Colonel rather longer than was abso- 
 lutely necessary in helping Diana into the pretty pair-horse 
 Victoria ? And was there a pressure of the hand, and a whisper, 
 which were by no means public property? The Colonel raised 
 his hat, looked after the fast trotting little horses, smiled a 
 gentle smile, and then swung into the Corso. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 ^t'-Jkf^i^^ 
 
 
 .^;:? -^V<k£r>^^: 
 
 MAXNERIXa became a frequent 
 visitor at the Costanzi. It need 
 not be said that Ralph would, to use a vulgar phrase, sooner 
 have had his room than his company, and was often con- 
 sidering various plans for getting rid of the unwelcome 
 visitor. But this was by no means easy to effect ; for there 
 was nothing in the soldier's behaviour to which the most 
 jealous husband could have objected ; and Ralph, though sus- 
 picious of the Colonel, was far too honourable himself to mis- 
 trust his wife. He would not for the world allow her to suppose 
 that her former lover's visits made him unhappy. He felt sure 
 that if he had hinted at such a thing, Diana v/ould at once have 
 joined him in his efforts to keep Colonel Mannering at a dis- 
 tance. But he was too proud to show the slightest want of 
 confidence in her ; and such a hint would have implied a want of 
 confidence. So the Colonel obtained for them an invitation to 
 the Vatican (which, by-the-by, Ralph Branscombe could pro- 
 bably have obtained just as easily himself), and accompanied 
 them there in his full-dress uniform, contrasting strangely with 
 Ralph's plain clothes. And the Colonel brought them special 
 cards to visit old palaces not open to the general public ; and 
 
174 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 took them to queer trattorie in out of the way streets, where 
 they ate real Roman dinners, and saw the Romans as they 
 are at home, and not as they pretend to be when they know 
 that foresticri are looking on. And most attractive of all to 
 Diana, he procured for them a couple of very decent horses, 
 so that they could go to a meet of the fox-hounds in the 
 Campagna. 
 
 AVhen Ralph was galloping across that generally sad plain, now 
 bright in the sunlight of a Roman April, he was almost tempted 
 to think that he had done Mannering injustice, and that his 
 suspicions were unfounded. On that delightful day Ralph 
 noticed with pleasure that the Colonel took very little trouble 
 about Diana — certainly no more than was justified by the 
 common rules of politeness. When his horse dropped his 
 fore-legs into one of the very nasty ditches which intersect that 
 country, it was the Colonel who helped him out and on again, 
 while Diana was galloping after the hounds. So when they 
 took leave of each other on the Piazza Colonna, Ralph re- 
 sponded more warmly than he had done before to the Colonel's 
 hand-shake. Yet in the solitude of his chamber he repented 
 him of his confidence. " For," thought he, " the Colonel is 
 certainly not particularly fond of me, nor of my company. It is 
 for Diana's sake that he takes all this trouble ; and he endea- 
 vours to keep well * in ' with me in order to be able to see her 
 as often as he pleases." Yet was he forced to admit that the 
 most scrupulous rules of propriety seemed to govern the 
 Colonel's conduct. Not once had he called in Ralph's absence 
 — at least as far as he could gather without interrogating the 
 servants, a course he would have disdained to pursue. Besides, 
 Ralph was so seldom absent, and then for so very short a time, 
 that private visits to his wife would have been almost impos- 
 sible. He had observed no whispering, no stealthy glances, no 
 prolonged partings. Everything seemed plain and above-board. 
 So Ralph began to think that it was on the whole just as 
 well they had met the Colonel thus early. " All illusions have 
 now passed away," he concluded; "she will settle down at 
 
HOME AGAIN. 175 
 
 home quietly, without regrets and yearnings, and will in time 
 begin to return my love more warmly." 
 
 The days sped on, and news from England became less and 
 less frequent. Colonel Mannering's leave had expired, and ho 
 left them just before the Easter holidays. Mrs. Throgmorton 
 Toms still wrote occasionally, dating as before from Brans- 
 combe Hall, and informing them that Sir Henry was much the 
 same. The Keverend George and Mrs. Branscombe each wrote 
 one letter, in which they expressed some slight misgivings about 
 the baronet's health ; but there was nothing alarming in their 
 information. AVlien the holidays were over (Easter being rather 
 late that year), they travelled leisurely to Florence. Diana ap- 
 peared less bored and less apathetic since the meeting with the 
 Colonel ; nor did his departure depress her, as Ptalph feared it 
 would. The young man therefore rejoiced, although her im- 
 provement did not include any increase of affection towards 
 himself. But she was undoubtedly in better spirits, less silent 
 when they were at homo, and more easily amused when they were 
 abroad. The change to Florence seemed to revive her still 
 more ; Rome was becoming close and relaxing, while at the 
 more northern city they found cool breezes, and that bracing 
 atmosphere which makes it perfection in spring though dis- 
 agreeable in winter. There were several friends to be called 
 upon, both at Florence and at the villas in the neighbourhood ; 
 while dinners and drives occupied all the hours they could s^jare 
 from the galleries, to which the mornings were devoted. Time flew 
 on rapid wings for the young couple in the' flowery Tuscan capital. 
 English and cosmopolitan families welcomed them ; hospitalities 
 were thrust upon them ; invitations to dinners and picnics, nay, 
 even croquet parties (for lawn-tennis had not penetrated so far 
 south) were rapidly increasing. A young and handsome woman, 
 vvith a rich and pleasant husband, are acquisitions everywhere. 
 A two days' trip to Vallombrosa was projected, and they were 
 busy with the preparations for it, when the evening mail arrived, 
 bringing several letters from England — one for Diana, two for 
 Ealph. 
 
176 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 That for Diana was from i\Irs. Gore, who was stopping in a 
 new situation at "Worthing. It contained one passage only of 
 any importance, which was to the effect that she heard very 
 had reports of Sir Henry Branscombe's health. 
 
 Ealph's first letter was from his mother. She said that as 
 they had heard during the past month that Sir Henry was much 
 worse, they had gone over twice from Warhoro', but had not 
 been allowed to see him. On the second occasion, IMrs. Toms 
 had received them, " as if," Mrs. Branscombe said, " she were 
 the mistress of the house. She told us that Sir Henry was not 
 allowed to see any one ; that the doctors had prescribed absolute 
 quiet, though there was not much the matter. I a-sked Dr. 
 Quayle about him," added Ralph's mother, " and he said he had 
 not been called in to the Hall for months. Your uncle has 
 some London doctor recommended, I believe, by Mrs. Toms. 
 That woman, Ealph, is a snake, and the sooner you come home 
 the better." 
 
 The other letter was from Messrs. Penner & Inkstono, and 
 being very short, may be transcribed in full. It was marked 
 private, and ran as follows : — 
 
 ** Deak Sir., 
 
 "As the family solicitors, we think it our duty to in- 
 form you that we understand Sir Henry Branscombe to be in a 
 veiy precarious condition of health. No member of our firm 
 has seen him since your marriage. We understand that he has 
 more than once sent for Messrs. Pickum, Bones, & Co., to 
 whom, by his special desire, we have handed a number of leases 
 and other documents. 
 
 ""We are, dear Sir, &c,, &c." 
 
 ** Pickum, Bones, & Co. !"' exclaimed Ealph, after reading 
 this note. " Why, they are the rascally fellows that were con- 
 cerned in the Eldorado Gold Mining Co., and probably they are 
 Toms' lawyers as well. We must go home at once, Diana ! " 
 
HOME AGAIN". 177 
 
 "We must indeed, Ralph," assented bis wife, after reading 
 Mrs. Branscombe's letter. " I am very anxious about Uncle 
 Henry." 
 
 " When can you be ready ? " inquired Ralph. 
 
 " As soon as you like," she replied; " for the evening train, 
 if you can manage it." 
 
 So it was decided ; and twelve hours later they were speeding 
 along to Pisa as fast as an Italian express would carry them. 
 They chose the route via Spezzia and Turin, and reached 
 Branscombe Hall in three days. It was Ralph's particular 
 wish not to give any warning of their arrival to the people at 
 the Hall until they landed in England ; no telegram was there- 
 fore sent until they reached Dover, in the early morning of the 
 last day of May. Diana was now as eager as her husband to 
 find out what the Toms couple were doing, for she was jealous 
 of her uncle's affection, and would not easily allow herself to be 
 displaced by a stranger. Ralph had telegraphed from Paris to 
 Mr. Penner, and that gentleman met them at Charing Cross, 
 though it was so early. 
 
 In a few minutes our hero was put in possession of the 
 facts, which were but scanty. jMr. Throgmorton Toms had, it 
 seems, a proper power of attorney from Sir Henry ; and the 
 latter had, by a letter dated the 7th of April, requested Messrs. 
 Penner & Inkstone to hand certain important papers to the 
 other lawyers. Since then, they had only heard indirectly from 
 the Hall, and it was on the information of the baronet's serious 
 illness that they had written. 
 
 The short journey to Branscombe scarcely gave Ralph suffi- 
 cient time to mature his plans. He prepared himself for the 
 most determined and violent fight. He felt sure that Mr. 
 Toms had taken advantage of Sir Henry's illness and com- 
 parative isolation to obtain from him every instrument necessary 
 for plundering him. Knowing that the little man and his wife 
 had entirely settled at the Hall, he concluded that they would 
 not give up their post of vantage, even in favour of himself, and 
 would endeavour to keep their hold of everything as long as they 
 
 N 
 
178 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 possibly could. It was tlierefore with no small surprise that he 
 recognised INIrs. Throgmorton Toms ou the platform of the 
 Chalford Station, and saw that lady rush to embrace Diana as if 
 she had been her beloved sister. 
 
 *' So glad you have come back, dearest Diana ! " she ex- 
 claimed ; " such a relief ! I did not like to make you uneasy 
 about Sir Henry. But I am delighted you have come back. 
 No one can look after him as well as you can ! And Ralph, 
 too, is sadly wanted on business matters. But we had not the 
 heart to spoil your delightful trip. How well you look, Di ! 
 and how brown Ralph is. I declare he is better looking than 
 ever." 
 
 Thus talking she led them to the old-fashioned barouche, 
 which was waiting at the station, while a cart had been sent for 
 their luggage. Their breath was almost taken away by the 
 lady's affectionate volubility. But Ralph reserved his anger for 
 her husband, who, she said, had gone to town for the day, but 
 would return in time for dinner. 
 
 The}', of course, at once asked to see Sir Henry ; and, to their 
 surprise, no difficulty was raised, although they were recom- 
 mended to be very quiet. They found the old gentleman 
 dressed, and sitting in his own favourite arm-chair ; but, alas ! 
 what a change was there in his appearance. Those once ruddy 
 cheeks were now sunken and yellow ; the blue eyes, once so 
 bright and frank, glanced weakly and suspiciously from hollow 
 orbits ; the hand which had mastered the most restive four- 
 year-old was flaccid and tremulous ; the lips, whilom firmly 
 compressed, were now half-open and flabby ; the voice, but 
 recently deep and sonorous, was but a sickly quaver. 
 
 " Is that Ralph ? " he asked, glancing at his nephew almost 
 fm'tively ; and then starting as Diana stooped to kiss his 
 withered cheek. " Oh, yes ; Ralph and Diana ! Arc yougomg 
 to stop here ? Very well ; tell them to give you the green 
 room, — no, the blue room. I'm not at all well. Ralph, you 
 must not trouble me now ; and don't disturb me. It makes me 
 ■worse. Y/here is Peebles ? " 
 
HOME AGAIN. 179 
 
 **■ Here, Sir Henry," said his valet, stepping for\Yard. 
 
 " Peebles, give me my draft. Peebles, send for Boulter. I 
 will ride the Duke to-morrow. Tithebarn, is it not ? " 
 
 Thus the poor old gentleman talked of hunting the next day, 
 while he had not strength to raise himself in his chair. And 
 yet five minutes later he said that he was very bad, and would 
 die soon, and did not want to be disturbed about business. 
 His mind had given way ; no doctor was required to tell Pialph 
 that much, though Mr. Throgmorton Toms confirmed it in 
 the evening. 
 
 The young people were appalled, and overwhelmed Mrs. 
 Toms with reproaches for not having sent for them sooner. 
 That lady excused herself on the grounds that they had had the 
 very best advice in England, that their 23resence could have done 
 no good, that she was u.nwining to disturb their wedding trip. 
 In short, she made out a very fair case ; and when her husband 
 came back, Ralph found that he had made his plans for a battle 
 where there was no enemy. 
 
 " You see how he is now, Ptalpli. He takes the most unac- 
 countable dislikes to people ; and he took a dislike to Inkstone 
 a few days after you left. He would not hear of their being 
 sent for ; he wanted other lawyers, and chose Pickum, Bones, & 
 Co. himself, out of a list of a dozen I gave him. Of course, 
 when I found out that his mind was going, and that that old 
 fool Quayle made nothing of it, I sent for Sir Davenport Harley 
 from town. I could not do better, could I ? " 
 
 Ralph admitted that Sir Davenport Harley was quite the best 
 authority on all complaints of this description. 
 
 " Well, Sir Davenport said it was incipient softening of the 
 brain, but that it would probably last for years. I was bound 
 to look after his interests, so I got a power of attorney 
 before it was too late. You shall see exactly all I have done ; 
 we will go through the papers to-morrow morning. Of course, 
 I have been carrying on things here at a great disadvantage, for 
 I know nothing of the estate ; and I'm devilish glad you've 
 come to take it off" my hands. As to the City matters, when I 
 
 N 2 
 
180 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 have explained them, I suppose I may as well continue the pro- 
 cess of winding up and closing accounts, for I know all about 
 them, and you don't." 
 
 And in fact next day when Ralph went through the papers, 
 he admitted that Mr. Toms had done his best for the estate in 
 his absence. As to the City business, when that acute gentle- 
 man had talked for two hours, he became quite confused, and 
 gave up the job as hopeless. But he took charge of the land 
 from the very day, and acted as his uncle's representative. 
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 TOWN. 
 
 OON after the return of the 
 young couple Mr. and Mrs. 
 Throgmorton Toms left for 
 town, where the lady was very 
 anxious to enjoy what re- 
 mamed of the season, and early in July 
 Ralph also resolved to take his wife to 
 London for a few weeks. Careful and 
 constant attention had' confirmed Sir 
 Davenport Harley's opinion, that no im- 
 mediate change was to be anticipated in 
 Sir Henry Branscombe's condition. He 
 scarcely recognised anybody now, and was 
 incapable even of the small amount of 
 reasoning he had been able to exercise 
 when they first returned. On the other 
 hand, his physical condition grew better 
 rather than worse, and the absolute rest 
 of the once so active brain actually ap- 
 peared to give the body a chance it had not had for years. 
 But under these circumstances it became necessary that certain 
 legal formalities should be accomplished which would enable the 
 Rev. George Branscombe, Ralph, and Mr. Throgmorton Toms 
 to protect the property and make the necessary payments. 
 
 Ralph and Diana therefore took up their quarters at the 
 Bristol, while the Rev. George and Mrs. Branscombe moved 
 over to the Hall to look after the invalid in their absence. 
 "When Ralph fairly plunged into the various City matters which 
 Ms uncle had undertaken, and of which Mr. Throgmorton 
 
182 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 Toms held the strings, he gradually acquired the conviction 
 that his first suspicions had not been unfounded. INIr. Toms 
 had succeeded in complicating matters to such an extent that it 
 appeared almost impossible to unravel them. Sir Henry had 
 advanced money on mortgage of various leaseholds, and of sundiy 
 industrial tools and plant. The deeds were declared by Messrs. 
 Pickum and Bones to be in perfect order. On the other hand, he 
 had, almost immediately after Ka^ph's marriage, borrowed cer- 
 tain sums on the security of the Branscombe estates, and neither 
 'Mv. Toms nor the lawyers could give any information as to what 
 had become of the money. The securities in Avhich he had 
 invested, though the deeds might be drawn in the most approved 
 fashion, were impossible to realise immediately. In no case 
 could the money advanced be got back without much delay and 
 infinite trouble, and in many cases Ralph thought there was 
 much doubt vdiether it could ever be got back at all, though 
 Mr. Throgmorton Toms assured him that every investment 
 was " safe as the bank." Practically, however, there were so 
 many complications, in the shape of assignments and re- 
 assignments, and so many possibilities of bringing down ap- 
 parently prosperous firms by demanding the money back, 
 that Pialpli and his own legal friends could not help won- 
 dering, time after time, why Sir Henry had plunged into 
 all these difficulties, which a man of his business capabilities 
 must have more or less foreseen. Some of the loans were as 
 recent as the previous spring — nearly all were made within the 
 past twelve months. And no one seemed able to explain why 
 Sir Henry had suddenly encumbered property which he had spent 
 years of activity in clearing. So Ralph came to the conclusion 
 that the investments and the loans were all carried out under the 
 direct advice and influence of Mr- Toms. Wishing as he did to 
 return as soon as possible to the Hall, and yet determined — 
 to 'My. Throgmorton Toms' secret vexation — to see his way 
 clear in these matters before leaving London, Ralph was fully 
 occupied, and left Diana a good deal to herself and Mrs. Toms, 
 who drove her about everywhere, and took her to all the fashion- 
 
TOWN. 183 
 
 able al'ternoou eiitertaiunients which were still going on. It did 
 not surprise onr hero to find Colonel Manneriug's card at the 
 hotel one evening when he returned from the City, but it would 
 not be correct to say that he was much pleased at that gallant 
 officer's attention. Still less delighted was he when, a few days 
 later, he found the Colonel having afternoon tea with Diana in 
 their comfortable sitting-room overlooking Burlington Street. 
 Unpleasant as it was to touch on the subject, he made up his 
 mind at once to speak, and the moment the Colonel, who was 
 evidently fishing to be asked to dinner, had left the room, he 
 said : 
 
 " Di, darling, I think you must be careful about Colonel 
 Mannering. Don't have him here too often, please." 
 
 " He has only been here once before, and then I was out," 
 answered Diana, rather warmly. 
 
 " I know, my dearest child ; and I also know perfectly well 
 that there is nothing in it, except an afternoon visit. But 
 people will talk, you know ! We are in an hotel where a dozen 
 pair of eyes are always on the watch, and a dozen brains ready to 
 invent scandal. Don't give them a chance, Diana ; please don't." 
 
 And he drew her to him and kissed her tenderly. Then he 
 went on : 
 
 "Just discourage his visits, that's all. Don't be 'at home' 
 next time he comes ; and if we don't ask him to dinner, nor to 
 go with us anywhere, he will drop it soon enough." 
 
 Diana shot a glance of her deep black eyes at him which 
 might have implied either indignation or surprise. She opened 
 her lips as if to speak, but appeared to think better of it. After 
 a few moments' silence she said : 
 
 " Very well, Ealph. It is time for me to go and dress now. 
 Remember we are going to the Lyceum." 
 
 Ralph thought he had said enough, and had still sufficient 
 confidence in his wife to feel certain that she would allow Colonel 
 Mannering to understand that his visits had better cease. 
 Shortly afterwards, coming home one afternoon, he ran against 
 Mr. Saintsbury Snuffbox in St. James's Street. 
 
184 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 No one could handle a horse better than Mv. Snuffbox ; the 
 most restive were quiet under him, and hunters sold for jibbing 
 and refusing took their fences boldly when he steered them. So 
 justly celebrated was he in this respect, that he obtained more 
 than one invitation to " good houses " on the strength of it, and 
 was able to talk of Lord Strangles having given him a mount, or 
 of Sir Wruffe Wryder having asked him down to Wryder Hall, 
 as if he were habitually on the most intimate terms with the 
 nobility and landed gentry of England. Men who were un- 
 acquainted with his special talents opened their eyes wide when 
 they heard his talcs, and disbelieved them, but those who knew 
 him better vouched for his truthfulness, and were aware that 
 Snuffbox paid for the hospitality extended to him by breaking-in 
 refractory ones, teaching keen hunters to carry ladies, " making" 
 j)ark hacks out of unbroken colts, and generally exercising that 
 gift of bending horses to his will, which but few can acquire and 
 still fewer are born with. In regard to horseflesh he possessed 
 wonderful judgment and an inexplicable delicacy of perception. 
 But as a man of the world he was, to use a favourite phrase of 
 his own, "not in it." He blundered and stumbled whenever 
 there was a chance, and came to grief almost every time he opened 
 his mouth. 
 
 This Tuesday Avas no exception to the rule. 
 
 *'Mr. Ralph ! " he exclaimed, " glad to see you, sir. Hope 
 Sir Henry is better," and he held out his red, ungloved fist, 
 which Ealph at once grasped. 
 
 "My uncle is much the same, I am afraid." 
 
 *' I suppose we shall never see the old gentleman out again," 
 Snuffbox went on, taking of course the worst view of things. " I 
 thought you was in London, Mr. Ralph," and he winked slyly. 
 
 " AVhy ? " asked Ralph, innocently. 
 
 *' Well, sir, I was in the Park this morning, looking at the 
 swells, and I saw ]\Iiss Diana — I beg your pardon, IMrs. Brans- 
 combe — a setting in a chair next to that soldier chap that used 
 to hang after her last season. And so I sez to myself, sez I, Mr. 
 Ralph is sure to be about somewhere. Eh ? " 
 
ix'^m 
 
TOWN. 185 
 
 Balph bit liis lip. Ho had been iu the City all day. 
 
 " Oh yes," he answered, " I was close to them. I suppose 
 you did not see me." 
 
 *' No," said Snuifbox, "Hooked about, but missed you, some- 
 how." 
 
 It was not easy to exercise the self-control the occasion 
 required. Ealph, however, mastered himself sufficiently to take 
 Mr. Snuffbox into his club and offer him a glass of sherry 
 and bitters. It need not be remarked that the offer was warmly 
 accepted, and at last, to Ealph' s relief, his friend walked oft' 
 behind the biggest cigar the Whitefriars' Club could produce. 
 
 Diana was waiting for him at the Bristol, ready for a drive to 
 Eichmond, where they were to dine. Ealph was silent and pre- 
 occupied, but his wife had never studied his moods, and ap- 
 parently took no notice. At last he mustered courage to ask, in 
 as indifferent a tone as he could assume — 
 
 " Were you in the Park to-day, Diana ? " 
 
 "Yes," she said, " I went for half-an-hour's walk with Mrs, 
 Toms." 
 
 " See anybody you knew ? " he went on. 
 
 " Well, only the Mortons and Lady Cheveleigh. Nobody else 
 particular. People are going away fast. Town will be quite 
 empty next week." 
 
 There was a merry party at the Star and Garter that evening. 
 Ealph endeavoured to appear as merry as the rest. But for the 
 first time since his marriage he began to be seriously uneasy. 
 And it was long before sleep closed his weary eyes on that 
 Tuesday night. 
 
 There was a very heavy day with the lawyers on the Thursday 
 following, and in the afternoon a question arose on which Mr. 
 Throgmortou Toms' opinion was indispensable. He had already 
 left the City when Ealph sought him at his office, and the clerks 
 said he had gone home. It was necessary, if possible, to see 
 him at once, as the lawyers required a reply by the next mornino- 
 at latest, and Ealph's evening was engaged. He therefore pro- 
 ceeded to Chesham Place, where he was informed that Mr. 
 
1S6 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 Toms bad not yet come Lome, though he was expected shortly. 
 The servant said : 
 
 *' Mrs. Branscombe is in the drawing-room, sir, with Mrs. 
 Throgmorton Toms. Will you step upstairs." 
 
 For several reasons Ralph did not wish to join the ladies. In 
 the first place, be liked Mrs. Toms less and less every day. 
 Secondly, he was unwilling to lose the thread of the business 
 in band, which was as usual, very complicated. He did not 
 \nsh. to have to make conversation and thus divert bis thoughts. 
 And, lastly, he was sufficiently vain not to want to appear in a 
 lady's drawing-room in bis present condition, hot, dusty, and 
 untidy from a long summer's day spent in walking about Loudon 
 and in black offices. 
 
 So he said, " No ; can I wait for your master downstairs ? I 
 only want to see him on business, and you need not tell the 
 ladies I am here." 
 
 To Ralph's intense surprise, the man winked. Actually Triuked, 
 and smiled a smile as if of intelligence. He was fairly puzzled at 
 this extraordinary conduct of an otherwise unimpeachable London 
 footman. However, he was shown into the front room on the 
 ground floor, which was IMr. Throgmorton Toms' library. The 
 lower part of the windows to the street was resthetically con- 
 structed of lead lattices, with coloured glass. You could 
 see from inside outwards, but not from outside into the room. 
 Ralph pulled some papers out of his pocket, and glanced 
 through them to refresh bis memory. Then he looked out 
 of the window mechanically, while thinking over the facts ol 
 the case and the footman's wmk. He was aroused from his 
 reverie by bearing the front door open and shut. There had 
 been no ring, so some one in the house must be going out. He 
 raised his eyes to the street and saw Diana and Colonel j\Ian- 
 nerin<^>' pass the window towards Belgrave Sc2uare, in close 
 conversation. 
 
 Now he understood why the ilunkey winked. 
 
CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 When Ralph at last had his talk with Mr. Throgmovton 
 Toms, that gentleman said to himself that after all he had 
 overrated the young man's talents. He asked such foolish 
 questions, and seemed to understand Mr. Toms' replies with 
 so much difficulty, that the financier stared at him more than 
 once in surprise, scarcely recognising in him the same person 
 whose pertinent questions and searching inquiries had hitherto 
 so much disturbed his private operations. Ealph felt that he 
 had lost his grasp of the matter, alleged a head-ache, and took a 
 turn in the park to recover his equanimity. What should he 
 do ? What should he say ? Ought he to have followed them 
 at once to watch them ? For a moment that had been his im- 
 pulse. But it would have been difficult to watch them to any 
 puq^ose ; and besides, such a step was utterly repugnant to 
 him. Yet things could not be allowed to go on thus. There 
 must be an explanation ; and the explanation must put an end, 
 
188 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 once for all, to Diaua's flirtation with the handsome Colonel, 
 or — what ? 
 
 Ealph could not face the alternative. He did not believe for 
 a moment that his wife could be false ; and was still sure, so he 
 argued to himself, that if he put the matter fairly before her, 
 she would give up her thoughtless conduct. So he determined 
 to act on his conviction at once. 
 
 Diana was sitting quietly reading the last new novel. 
 
 " Good evening, dear," he said, as he entered. " Tell me, 
 do you often meet Colonel Mannering at Mrs. Toms' ? " 
 
 " "S^Tiat do you mean ? " asked she, flushing violently. 
 
 "Now, Diana darling," he said, sitting down on a low chair 
 before her, and taking her hands. "Listen to me, and do not 
 be angry." 
 
 "I do not want to be lectured," said his wife, pettishly, re- 
 covering her natural colour", and attempting to withdraw her 
 hands. 
 
 " I have no intention of lecturing you," he continued, very 
 seriously ; " but you invst listen, darling. You know I love you 
 above everything on earth, don't you ? " 
 
 " Supposing you do ? " asked Diana. " What about it ? You 
 have told me so often enough." 
 
 Ralph was determined to go on patiently. " Well, my 
 dearest Di, think for a moment of what you are doing. Stop ! ' ' 
 he cried, holding up his hand, as he saw that she was about 
 to speak. "Do not interrupt me. God forbid that I should 
 accuse you of anything more serious than thoughtlessness. 
 If I did not hold you to be my good wife, loving me per- 
 haps less passionately than I love you, but still afi'ectionate 
 and true and brave, would I speak to you thus ? " And 
 he took her hand again, and kissed it, while she became 
 paler, and her large eyes looked into his face with an anxious 
 expression. 
 
 " Darling," he went on, "I believe in you, and hope that 
 some day you will love me as I love you. And because I be- 
 lieve in you I must warn you. I do not know how often you 
 
AN EXPLANATION. 189 
 
 have met Colonel Manuering in the Park, or at Mrs. 
 
 Toms' " 
 
 " Only once or twice," she interrupted, castuig her eyes 
 down. " And to-day he only saw me into a hansom, and I 
 drove straight home." 
 
 "All the better," answered Ealph. "But, my dearest, that 
 once or twice was too much. The Colonel was fond of you 
 before we married. I believe him to be still attached to you. 
 Perhaps he has told you so ? " 
 
 Diana started. But Ralph went on : 
 
 " Anyhow, it is imprudent of you to meet him ; imprudent 
 of you to give him opportunities of seeing you. It can only 
 lead to scandal and misery. Again I tell you that I believe in 
 you, and hold you to be good and true ; but you must be above 
 suspicion, and you must not run into danger. For j'our own 
 sake, dearest Diana, if not for mine, for the sake of our poor 
 old uncle, for the sake of the good family name, be warned, 
 my love, and let me shield you from the faintest breath of 
 scandal ! " 
 
 He kissed her cold lips, while silent tears coursed down her 
 cheeks, which he rejoiced to see ; though he, too, had to choke 
 down a sob. 
 
 " Darling," he said, rising, "you wall be warned, will you 
 not ? You will be more prudent in future? Promise ! " 
 
 " I will try," she answered. " Let me go now, Pialph 
 dear ! " 
 
 Ralph's hopes revived when he saw how deeply moved she 
 was, for one so difficult to move as Diana. But he deter- 
 mined to leave town at once, whatever business might stand 
 in the way. The suggestion of Goodwood, which he made at 
 dinner, brought back the smiles to his wife's face ; and next 
 day he told the lawyers that they would have to get on without 
 him for a week. So the next Saturday found them installed 
 in a tiny cottage at Lavant, which he had bribed a club 
 friend to give up to him. The beautiful Sussex lanes, 
 and the rich foliage of the hanging woods never looked 
 
190 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 more attractive, nor the bright sea in the distance more 
 sparkling. Diana seemed almost loving ; at any rate, she 
 was grateful for his gentle forbearance ; and Ealph had 
 probably never spent a happier week than in that cottage on 
 the South Downs. The repose of their rose-covered dwelling 
 was delightful, even to the pleasure-loving Diana, after the 
 crowd and bustle of the race-course ; and both were happy in 
 their selection of favourites — a circumstance which materially 
 helped to make the days pass pleasantly. No shadow came 
 between them, and no reminder of the gallant Colonel disturbed 
 Ealph's peace. 
 
 Then they went back to Branscombe Hall, where there was 
 much to do and much to think of; though its quiet was 
 scarcely so pleasing to Diana as to her husband. The weeks 
 went on, and the leaves began to change colour, but there 
 was no change in Sir Henry. His condition, of course, pre- 
 vented their inviting people down to the Hall to shoot, and 
 even Diana seemed to admit that it was better to do without 
 Mr. and Mrs. Toms. Mrs. Gore spent a fortnight with 
 them ; and a few neighbours made up shooting parties in 
 September. Then Ealph began to think of horses. There were 
 Sir Henry's in the stable, all fit to go ; and there was dear old 
 Peabody, and Diana's thoroughbred ; so no new purchases were 
 wanted, though Ralph had, at first, some scruples about riding 
 his uncle's. These, however, were overruled by his friends, and 
 he therefore began the campaign horsed in a manner which was 
 as unusual for him as it was delightful. It was the first time 
 in his life that Ralph had been able to look forward to a winter's 
 sport without .the black care of financial fears to worry him. 
 Anxiety about a hunter's legs was now confined to anxiety about 
 that particular hunter. If Peabody were not fit to go he would 
 be sorry, because Peabody was his favourite ; but there Avere 
 Peterborough and Black Swan, and half-a-dozen more to fall back 
 upon, and no difilculty about paying the cornchandler's bill 
 loomed in the distance. The renowned Boulter had becom'e 
 humble and respectful. He had bullied Mr. Throgmortou Toms 
 
AN EXPLANATION. 191 
 
 thoroughly as loug as Ealph was abroad, hut as soon as tho 
 young man returned, the tinancier gave up the stahles with a 
 sigh of reHef, for there was no money to be made out of them, 
 and he did not care about horses. Boulter would have been dis- 
 charged at once had not Diana interceded in his favour, on 
 account of Sir Henry's confidence in the stud groom. But he 
 was only holding office on " good behaviour," and he was per- 
 fectly aware of the slender nature of the tenure. Only the cloud 
 of his uncle's illness threw a slight sadness over Ealph's satisfied 
 contemplation of the row of loose boxes with their strong, well- 
 bred, and yet gentle inmates. All other clouds had been 
 dispersed by the Sussex sun. 
 
 In a letter to Mr. Fitzurse, Ealph begged him not to turn 
 down on Sir Henry's land, out of respect for the poor sick man's 
 recent wishes ; and IMr. Fitzurse, accompanied by ilr. Saintsbury 
 Snuffbox, called at the Hall to tell him that his ^v^ishes should 
 be respected. It was late in October Avhen they paid this visit, 
 and I\Ir. Snuffbox could not miss the opportunity of putting his 
 foot into it. After the matter in hand had been discussed and 
 settled, the two were asked to lunch, and though neither of them 
 felt quite at ease in the presence of Diana, they accepted. 
 
 " Mrs. Branscombe," said Snuffbox, with his mouth full of 
 cold partridge, " I saw a friend of yours the other da}^" 
 
 " Indeed ?" she asked, with that sweet smile which became 
 her so well, and which had long fascinated all her neighbours. 
 
 " Yes ;" he replied. " Colonel Manners, I think his name 
 is. The tall gentleman who used to hunt with you last season. 
 I saw him at Chalford Market on Tuesday last." 
 
 Diana blushed scarlet. Mr. Fitzurse was watching her ; 
 Balph, too, noticed the blush, and for the first time for months 
 the old pain in his heart returned. 
 
 " Did you know that Colonel Mannering was at Chalford, 
 Diana ? " he asked, when the guests had gone. 
 
 " How should I ? " said she. " You are perfectly ridiculous 
 about Colonel Mannering." 
 
 But Ralph did not feel satisfied, and thought that it vrould 
 
192 
 
 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 not be ridiculous to make at least a few inquiries. It was the 
 first time he had done so, and he took the step with the 
 gi'eatest unwillingness. But he felt that at nny cost a renewal 
 of the flirtation between his wife and the Colonel must be 
 stopped. However, he was unable to discover much more than 
 Saintsbury Snuffbox had told him. Colonel Mannering had 
 stopped for a week at the Cat and Fiddle, to look at some 
 horses, he said, at Chalford ; but had bought none, and had gone 
 away a few days before ; and Ralph could not gather anything 
 further •svithout betraying more than he wished. For the pre- 
 sent, at any rate, the Colonel had left the neighbourhood ; and 
 in a few days he was able to ascertain that the guardsman was 
 on special duty at Dover. 
 
 
 - \.iiIil"''^o7-' 
 
 ii.' 
 
 
 rvi-^r 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 HER OPENING DAY. 
 
 "WAS towards 
 the middle of 
 November that 
 an affectionate 
 letter arrived 
 from Miss 
 Nettlerash, in 
 which she in- 
 vited Ralph 
 and his wife to 
 spend a few 
 
 days at Silverstone. She was very anxious, she said, to make 
 her niece's acquaintance properly, and this would be a good 
 opportunity, as she knew they were fond of hunting ; and 
 Silverstone was a good centre for the Old Sarum hounds. 
 " Marian," she added, "is very anxious to go out hunting, and 
 I have no objection to her going, if you, dear Ralph, will look 
 after her. Bingham tells me there is room for two horses. 
 So if you and Diana will come and spend three or four days, 
 we shall all be very glad." 
 
 Ralph was very anxious that they should accept Miss Net- 
 tlerash's imitation, as he felt sure that the old lady had 
 repented her rudeness to his wife, and that this was meant as 
 the olive-branch. 
 
 But Diana was inexorable. " Go, Ralph, and make your- 
 self agreeable to the old fool; and take that little girl out 
 hunting. But don't ask me to go with you. I will stop at 
 home, and look after Uncle Henry," 
 
 Nothing would move her. Yet Ralph felt that an absolute 
 
194 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 refusal would offend his aunt beyond recall ; so at last he agreed 
 to send Peabody over on Monday, to leave Branscombe by the 
 last train on that day, to hunt on the next with Marian, and to 
 return to the Hall on Wednesday. He would thus remain 
 absent less than two days, and though not quite comfortable 
 about leaving his wife alone, he felt that he could not be always 
 with her; and consoled hi-mself with the thought that, after 
 all. Colonel Mannering's stay at Chalford might only have been 
 an accident. 
 
 So he started for Silverstone and faced Mr. and Mrs. Mudbury 
 Dawson, the inevitable guests, without too much suffering. 
 The harpist, fortunately, had departed, for he had borrowed a 
 couple of hundred pounds from Miss Ncttlerash, under a solemn 
 promise to repay the amount within a month, and had of course 
 not shown himself since. So the evening was not made horrible 
 by his twangs. Ralph thought that peace was cheaply purchased 
 at the price of two hundred (of his aunt's). Marian was full of 
 anticipation of the morrow, and Ralph was almost infected by her 
 enthusiasm, particularly when her father and mother snubbed 
 the child, and monopolised the conversation. To them Miss 
 Nettlerash always listened in rapt attention. 
 
 A nasty, wet, cold fog. The trees in the garden are scarcely 
 visible from the windows, and the white mist rests round on the 
 meadow, making the dismal cows look like dim elephants in 
 the distance. Not at all the sort of morning to ride to hounds. 
 No possible scent when every twig, every spray of furze, a3-e, 
 every blade of grass is dripping with moisture. " We could not 
 see the hounds, even if they ran," thought Ralph, as he tumbled 
 into his tub. " No hunting to-day. I am sorry for the little 
 girl, too, but it can t be helped." So he donned a morning suit, 
 and prepared to go back after breakfast and look after the farm, 
 and do many other useful things which had been long postponed 
 for want of time to attend to them. Dressing slowly, he cast an 
 occasional glance at the window, and noticed that the fog seemed 
 to become denser than ever. When ho appeared in the break- 
 fast-room he was greeted by Miss Nettlerash with the remark : 
 
HER OPENING DAY. 195 
 
 " There ! I thought so. You see, Marian, Ealph has not put 
 on boots and spurs, and all those things. You can't hunt in 
 this fog, can you, Ralph ? " 
 
 " I am afraid not, Aunt Janet," answered he, rather sorrow- 
 fully. " There would he no scent, and if the fog does not lift, 
 I don't think hounds will come." 
 
 ** Not hunt ! " exclaimed IMarian, her face falling, while tears 
 w-elled up into her big brown eyes. " Oh, Mr. Branscombe ! 
 not go out hunting, when it is the onli/ day for weeks that I 
 shall have the chance." 
 
 *' I fear it is of no use, Marian," answered Ralph. " I am 
 very sorry, but it is not my fault." 
 
 ** But the fog may clear off," expostulated the girl. 
 
 "It miglit clear, certainly," he replied. "So might Mr. 
 Gladstone resign ; but I don't think either event will happen." 
 
 " Still, might we not go on the chance?" asked Marian. 
 
 " Oh, of course we can go, if you wish to," answered our hero, 
 " but we shall get very cold and wet on the way, and shall not 
 have any sport for our trouble." 
 
 " You should not be so foolish," remarked Miss Nettlerash. 
 " It Avould be imprudent to go. You would catch cold." 
 
 " I am sure I should not catch cold," cried Marian. " Oh, 
 aunt, do let me go." 
 
 " Goose ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dawson, " don't be silly." Mr. 
 Dawson was of course still in his room. 
 
 "My dear child, I should be very glad that you should go if 
 the weather were at all decent. But look at this fog ; it is 
 getting thicker every minute." 
 
 " Dear aunt," continued Marian, who was now quite accus- 
 tomed to call iliss Nettlerash by that affectionate name, " I 
 assure you I sha'n't catch cold, and shall enjoy the ride even if 
 there is no hunting. But I feel certain there will be. It 
 would be too cruel if we could not hunt to-day. Please let 
 me go." 
 
 Miss Nettlerash Avas quite touched by the girl's eagerness, 
 and at last said, " Well, I leave it to Ralph." 
 
 2 
 
19G FAIR DIANA. 
 
 "If we trot out and home briskly," be said, "there is no 
 reason why Marian should catch cold. And she may after all 
 be right ; the fog may clear towards twelve o'clock." 
 
 So it was decided, and Marian rushed off to order the horses to 
 be got ready. She was far too excited to eat any breakfast, and be- 
 yond a cup of tea and a bit of toast could not be persuaded to take 
 anything. What girl or lad, of true sporting instincts, has not 
 felt the same thrills of impatience on the first hunting morning, 
 and occasionally, too, when hunting has become more familiar ? 
 While the girl was busy with her preparations, Ralph ate his 
 breakfast very calmly, and made it rather bigger than usual to 
 fortify himself against the cold wet fog. Marian came down in 
 her habit before he had finished, and was quite indignant at his 
 being so slow. 
 
 "Don't be impatient," he said; "if hounds come at all they 
 won't be early in a morning like this, and I will not be long 
 dressing." 
 
 But he was much longer than Marian liked. Ralph was 
 always careful about his hunting costume, and though it was 
 wet and foggy, he spent just as much time over his toilet as 
 if it had been bright and balmy. When at last he descended 
 the stairs and declared himself ready it was half-past ten, and 
 hounds were advertised at Hanger's Wood, seven miles ofi", at 
 eleven. 
 
 Poor ]\Iarian could hardly restrain herself. " They will be off 
 long before we get there, Mr. Branscombe," she said, as he 
 donned his waterproof cape. " Do make haste." 
 
 "Lots of time," answered Ralph. "But come along; I'll 
 mount you." 
 
 It was an easy task to lift Marian's slim figure into the 
 saddle. Abendigo knew what was before him, for the breast- 
 plate told its tale, and though good as gold while his young 
 mistress was being mounted, he was keen to start the moment 
 she picked up the reins. 
 
 The roads were very dirty, and Ralph would not go on fast, 
 for the pony was likely to splash him, and Ralph hated being 
 
HEK OPENING DAY. 197 
 
 splashed. Peabody pulled less than usual, perhaps conscious 
 that there was not much chance of huntmg on such a day. 
 
 *' Do you really think we shall not be too late?" asked Marian, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I assure you, Marian, dear," he replied, *' we have more 
 than time. Do you think they could do anything in this fog ? 
 Look at it among the trees there." 
 
 And, indeed, the prospect seemed hopeless enough. The 
 tall elms on the road-side looked like huge gaunt spectres ; 
 their tops were cloaked in an impenetrable veil. The few carts 
 they met emerged suddenly close to their horses' heads ; 
 pedestrians loomed large through the mist, magnified many 
 times. Heavy drops fell on them as they passed the trees ; 
 every branch in the hedgerows was saturated with moisture. 
 They knew the way to Hanger's Wood, and yet so dense was 
 the fog that they missed a turning and had to ride back half 
 a mile. Kalph became silent as he felt the insidious wet gradu- 
 ally penetrating his lower garments, and his feet becoming like 
 icicles. Even his cigar (which he had lighted as soon as he 
 got clear of Miss Nettlerash's garden) would not burn straight, 
 and smoked black and bitter in the fog. He was positively looking 
 forward to an immediate return journey, and to the big fire he 
 expected to find in his bed-room at Silverstone. But at last they 
 reached the meet, not having passed or come up with a single rider. 
 " You see, Marian," said Ralph, " no one else has come out. 
 We may as well go back." But just then a figure emerged from 
 the cloud. 
 
 "There's someone on horse-back," cried Marian, quite 
 pleased. 
 
 It was only a tinker on his donkey, but he, at any rate, was 
 also going to hunt, and was therefore some consolation to Marian. 
 Next they came upon a group of three horsemen standing before 
 the " Three Feathers," and consulting with the landlord of that 
 ilk. One of them remarked as they rode up, 
 
 " Well, we may as well wait a bit now we are here." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Archbutt, better wait. It might clear up, you 
 
198 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 know. And hounds arc sure to come. Squire "Ward never dis- 
 appoints anybody if he can helj) it." 
 
 Marian looked at Ralph triumphantly. The latter had not 
 quite recovered his good humour, but was fain to acknowledge 
 that there seemed to be other i)eople in the world as great fools 
 as themselves. Soon several more arrived, and two ladies 
 actually appeared to keep IMarian in countenance. A young 
 gentleman on a white horse raised his hat to the girl. 
 
 ** Who is that ? " asked Ralph, who did not often hunt with. 
 the Old Sarum hounds. 
 
 " I think it's our baker's son," replied Marian. *' He drives 
 that horse in the cart sometimes, and brings us the rolls in the 
 morning." 
 
 The young man turned round and passed them again. 
 
 " Yes," added Marian, " it's young Hampton ; how funny ! " 
 
 The baker's son was very well got up, considering all circum- 
 stances. A dark coat, a violet waistcoat, corduroy breeches, 
 Newmarket boots, and a bouquet of small chrysanthemums in 
 his button-hole. 
 
 Ralph next recognized Mr. Fetlock, the dealer who supported 
 the Holborn Vale hounds. This gentleman was mounted on a 
 grand-looking horse, nearly seventeen hands high, and looked 
 the real old sportsman all over. As the minutes crawled on, the 
 fog really seemed to diminish. At any rate you could see people 
 ten yards off, and were not taken by sui-prise and run into with- 
 out notice. But both were rather astonished when they sud- 
 denly heard the cry, ** Hounds, gentlemen, please!" and, looking 
 round, saw the sky-blue coats of the Old Sarum Hunt, and Mr. 
 Ward, the stout Master, surrounded by his speckled darlings. 
 
 " Oh," cried Marian, delighted, *' here are the hounds. How 
 nice they look ! You see, Mr. Branscombe, they have come, 
 after all." 
 
 Ralph admitted that he had been mistaken, and, saluting the 
 Master, remarked that he feared they would not do much. 
 
 " I do not suppose we shall," replied Mr. Ward, ** but there's 
 ro tolling, though I can't fancy there will be any scent to-day» 
 
l*tt-'3 
 
 
 
 
 
HER OPENING DAY. 199 
 
 I shall wait a quarter of an hour to see if it improves, and then 
 we'll go on." 
 
 "Where are we going to draw?" asked Ealph of Snow, 
 the good-natured little vet, when at last the hounds moved off. 
 
 " Lord Westbourne's," replied Mr. Snow. " Bound to go 
 there twice a year to please his lordship. Of course we sha'n't 
 find, and if we did, we could not get the fox away. Why, those 
 blessed woods go all the way to Ovington." 
 
 Ealph was disgusted. It was worse than riding home without 
 having seen hounds at all. He knew what drawing the West- 
 bourne coverts meant. For miles up and down steep hills, all 
 in woods, then for miles back again without even a whimper. 
 If they did get on a fox by chance, they were sure to cram up 
 a steep slope through thick underwood, and then to gallop down 
 another all spiked with stubbs, and finally to lose the fox at the 
 bottom. But he had not the heart to spoil Marian's fun, for 
 the girl was full of anticipation, enjoying the brisk trot after 
 the gay Hunt servants in blue, and watching the hounds and 
 the horses and the two or three carriages which tried to force 
 their way to the front. "I'll let her amuse herself as long 
 as she can," thought Ralph. " I wish to goodness I were at 
 'homo instead of getting wet through here. Hold up, old fool," 
 as Peabody trod on a loose stone. " The very worst hack ever 
 foaled ! " he said to himself, though he would have been very 
 angry if anyone else had said so. 
 
 Soon they turned out of the stony lane into the big West- 
 bourne woods, and halted at a place where two rides crossed. 
 Ealph took the opportunity of shaldng off as much wet as he 
 could, and giving Marian some instructions for her first day's 
 hunting. 
 
 " We are not at all likely to have a run, Marian, or if we do, 
 it will only be up and down these woods. But anyhow, re- 
 member to keep me in sight. I won't lead you into mischief, 
 and will take care to keep as close to hounds as is needful. 
 Whatever you do, don't ride off after them on your own account. 
 You will be able to take a line of your own some day, no doubt ; 
 
200 FAIK DIAXA. 
 
 but for the present you Avoultl be sure to head the fox, or tread 
 on a hound, or make some other blunder." 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Branscombe," answered Marian, meekly; 
 " but how about jumping ? " 
 
 " Oh, there won't be any jumping to-day," replied Ealph, 
 confidently. "If we do have to get through a few gaps, follow 
 me, but don't let your pony jump on Peabody's back. He does 
 not like ponies jumping on his back." 
 
 " I won't," said the girl ; " I'll give j^ou room." 
 
 " Yes, and if you should happen to lose sight of me in these 
 beastly woods, the best man to stick to is little Snow here. Mr. 
 Snow," he continued, raising his voice, and addressing the 
 good-natured vet, who was close by, *' I have just been telling 
 my charge. Miss Dawson, that she is to look to you as her pilot 
 in case she loses me in these horrible coverts." 
 
 " All right, ]Mr. Branscombe ; very glad, I'm sure," said the 
 little man, raising his hat again. " I'll take care of the young 
 lady if you get pounded." 
 
 "Not much chance of that, Snow," replied Ralph, " unless I 
 lame my horse on a stub. \Yhy we might as well go home for 
 any sport we shall get." 
 
 "Don't be too sure. The fog has cleared off a good deal, 
 though it's rather thick, yet. I liave known hounds run on a 
 day like this." 
 
 Ealph laughed. " Possibly ; but not from Westbourue 
 woods." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted, as they had to follow each 
 other in single file down a narrow path, hounds hunting in the 
 wet cover on the right of them. Then up a steep slope, where 
 the path was no better than a series of bog holes, in which the 
 horses floundered and splashed at every step. At the top they 
 reached firmer and opener ground, but then crossed a strip 
 where the underwood had been recently cut down, and the 
 much-dreaded stubs had to be avoided. Peabody picked his 
 way amongst them, as Snow said, " like a Christian," while 
 Marian's pony was almost equally clever, but the riding was 
 
HEU OPENING DAY. 201 
 
 anything but pleasant, and Mr. Fetlock's big horse very nearly 
 came on his head over one lot, while the baker's white nag 
 knocked his legs against the sharp points to such an extent as 
 to become almost unmanageable. Then came more riding down 
 glades and boggy drives, and at last a long halt. 
 
 "Almost lunch time," said llalph. "Have a sand\vich, 
 :^Iarian ? " 
 
 "Lunch time?" exclaimed the girl. " 'Wliy, we have only 
 just come out." 
 
 "Hark!" cried someone, "they've found!" and at once pelted 
 away down the ride, followed by a few ardent spirits. 
 
 " Plenty of time," remarked Ralph, listening for the music of 
 the hounds. "It's no use galloping round and round these 
 •woods. Take it easy." 
 
 So saying, he dropped the sandwich case back into its re- 
 ceptacle, and jogged quietly on. When they turned a corner in 
 the ride they found the group of eager ones stopping. A hound 
 popped out of the thick underwood every now and then, jumping 
 over the brambles and diving under the hazel bushes. Then 
 another head and ears would appear, and a note or two resound. 
 For a few moments there was anxious expectation. The music 
 was still feeble and uncertain ; there was anxious sniffing and 
 rushing now to the right, then to the left, and an occasional 
 almost plaintive cry, but nothing yet of unanimous joy. Still an 
 occasional note was heard, and Beecher let them try and work it 
 out. The small field followed at a respectful distance, while the 
 good hounds, with noses in the grass and fallen leaves, scattered 
 wide among the trees and brushwood. 
 
 " How clever they are!" exclaimed Marian. "I suppose they 
 are looking for the fox." 
 
 And indeed they were, with might and main. But it was a 
 difficult task. 
 
 " Not an atom of scent," said Fetlock. 
 
 •'I knew there wouldn't be," remarked Ralph ; "may as well 
 have lunch." 
 
 "Better hold on with them," observed Snow. "Listen to 
 
202 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 Reckless — she's giving tongue. And she don't often make a 
 mistake. xVnd there's Sorcery taken it up." 
 
 True enough ; and in another moment a dozen throats re- 
 echoed the cry, as the hounds plunged away to the left through . 
 the thickest cover. 
 
 " Take care of your face, Marian," cried Ealph, pushing 
 Peahody in. " Hold your arm up," and he forced his way 
 through the hranches, which closed behind him, and had to be 
 pushed aside again by the girl. " Steady, old man, steady." 
 
 Mr. Hampton got a severe scratch in the face from a bramble- 
 bush ; Mr. Greenwood's horse was too eager, and knocked his 
 rider's knee against a tree, capsizing him into the brushwood, 
 but he held on to the reins. 
 
 There were arms held up in front, and cries behind of ** Get up, 
 sir; get your horse out of the way!" "Don't stop the whole 
 field ! " " He can't help it ; don't you see he is doing his 
 best !" But Ralph and Marian were in front of the unfortunate 
 man and, reaching a ride, cantered down sharply. Suddenly he 
 pulled up. 
 
 '* What is it ?" asked the girl. " Why do you stop ? " 
 
 "Don't you see?" he answered, pointing to the hounds on 
 his left, " they've lost him. No ; they're on him again, by 
 Jove ! " 
 
 Again the mellow chorus sounded, and scrambling over a 
 fence to the right, the whole pack crossed the ride. There was 
 no time to stop now. Away galloped our friends after Mr. Ward's 
 scarlet and Beecher's sky-blue, for it was hopeless to follow 
 hounds into the thick underwood. Round a corner to the right, 
 where big trees stood far apart, and there was a chance of get- < 
 ting along. Down a slope covered thickly with fallen leaves, inta 
 ■which the horses sank fetlock deep, and: "By Jove, he's gone 
 away!" shouted Ralph, as he sent Peabody over the low rails ' 
 ■which bordered the wood on that side. He looked back as he 
 steadied his horse, for there was a steep and deep plough before 
 him, in which he could see the hounds hunting slowly. Marian 
 cleared the rails cleverly ; the pony never touched them. He 
 
HER OPENING DAY. 202 
 
 felt re-assured. The girl can take care of herself, he thoughts 
 But even now it scarcely looked like a run. They topped the hill, 
 and got through an easy gap into the hig grass fields by West-. 
 hourne Hall, hut there hounds were at fault. "If they can't 
 run on grass, there's not much chance on plough," grumbled 
 INIr. Fetlock. But without interference they spread out like a 
 fan, while " 'Old 'ard, gentlemen, please," came from Beecher, 
 and in a minute Harmony and Welcome gave tongue, while 
 Reckless, ashamed of having been mute so long, joined in, 
 and then Peaceful and Sorcery raced to the wire fence and 
 topped it, and the pack streamed over the grass with loud 
 music towards a small enclosure of shrubs and young trees 
 jealously guarded by netting. There was a momentary anxiety 
 lest Reynard might be chopped, but soon such fears proved 
 groundless, for the appearance of the hounds on the upper 
 side of the shrubbery announced that he had gone away some 
 time ahead of the pack. Away, then, across the park, where 
 one or two over-anxious horsemen, determined to stick to hounds 
 at any price, found themselves on the wrong side of the iron 
 palings, and had to come back to the despised gate. When the. 
 palings were left behind and Ralph saw hounds steadily work- 
 ing up another steep ploughed field he at last began to think 
 that there might be something in it after all. But he had seen 
 too many short scurries with foxhounds followed by long checks 
 and slow hunting to believe in saving his horse at the beginning, 
 of a run. Peabody was fresh, and his owner scarcely warm yet. 
 He was followed by an eager girl anxious for a gallop, so he 
 went up the hill as if the fox would be killed on the top» 
 There was a fine view over the Wessex Weald from the sum- 
 mit, but there was no time to turn and admire the old gables 
 and chimneys of Westbourne Hall below them, or the big woods, 
 clothing the steep hills whence they had driven their fox. Just 
 a glance forward, over undulating hill and dale, grass alter- 
 nating with plough, black patches of trees here and there an<i 
 groups of houses, and then the sudden consciousness that all 
 was bathed in the subdued sunlight of a winter's day, thatj. 
 
204 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 the fog had gone, and that nothing remained of it save a purple 
 haze in the distance. But hounds are running now with a ven- 
 geance. The pack is no longer scattered, fan-like, over the 
 field, occasionally dwelling and sniffing ahout hedge-row or 
 furrow. They are sailing down a hig grass slope in one com- 
 pact mass, each striving for the lead. They are all but mute, 
 an occasional whimper only betrays the fact that they are on 
 their fox. See ! they swerve to the rigbt. Has he crossed that 
 nasty black fence ? If so we may as well pick a good place 
 at once. So think IMr. Ward and his huntsman, but Hampton 
 sends the white horse at it, crashes through, and makes a 
 fair jump for Ralph and Marian. " Make room for the lady," 
 cries that good fellow, Beecher, as he sees the girl setting her 
 pony's head straight for it, and his cry saves her from being 
 ridden over by an eager sportsman. The blackthorn has 
 scratched her cheek, and her pony has only just saved himself 
 from a nasty fall, for there was an ugly ditch behind that fence. 
 But what matter ? " Forrard, forrard ! " cries Beecher, hustling 
 his chestnut thoroughbred along, and Marian only sees him and 
 Balph and the hounds. Along a wet furrow, through a gap, 
 and over a very holding stubble, uphill, too, where her pony 
 sinks above his fetlocks at every stride. Marian can ride, but 
 she is young, and this is her first day with hounds. She can't 
 quite make out why the brave pony flounders, and begins to sob 
 a little ; she chirrups to him, and ho pulls himself together, but 
 the stubble is very deep, and the hounds in front seem to grow 
 smaller. Through a gate into a lane : firm ground at last, 
 and here half-a-dozen roadsters join the van, and try to look 
 as if they had come across country. " 'Old 'ard, gentlemen, 
 please," and a sky-blue arm is seen raised, while for half 
 a minute hounds throw up on the gravel surface, and the steam 
 rises dense as a fog from the dozen steeds crowded in the 
 narrow road. But the check is so short that it can scarcely 
 be called a check at all ; before horses have been properly 
 pulled up there is a cheery chorus again and the pack dashes 
 along the grass-grown ditch, through an iron hurdle and across 
 
HER OPENING DAY 205 
 
 a turnip field. The first whip is down in a moment and has 
 pulled a hurdle out. Ralph holds his horse while he remounts, 
 hut meanwhile Hampton, the haker, and Fetlock on his hig hay, 
 and a couple more, have stolen to the front, so there is no time 
 to lose. " Thank you, sir," says Harry, settling into the saddle. 
 "But we must ride to catch them now; there's nowt hut grass 
 in front." Slices of mangolds fly as they gallop across the 
 drills. Through a gate out into a meadow ; at the hottom is a 
 little wood, surely he will have dwelt in it ! No ; hounds plunge 
 in, and hefore any one has time to take a pull at his horse their 
 music is heard again on the far side. Round the wood along a 
 footpath, for it is no use trying to push through, then a hit of 
 grass-covered hill, and hounds make a great sweep to the right 
 with loud music. Good ; there is a convenient line of gates. 
 Hampton throws the first open, Beecher catches it, the whip 
 gives it another shove, and, thank heaven, it sticks open, so 
 Ralph can gallop on, and Marian can follow. Two more hig 
 fields with open gates hetween them ; then hounds disappear 
 through a great hlack hedge, and Beecher leading, rides for the 
 gate. " Locked, hy Jove ! " he cries, as he turns his horse back 
 and looks for a handy place in the hedge. Nothing ; it is too 
 thick, and there is a stream of water behind it. " Look out," 
 cries the baker, and sending his white horse at the gate tops it 
 cleverly. There must be no hesitation now, for hounds are run- 
 ning fast, and scent is improving. Over goes the chestnut, 
 barely hitting the top bar, and then Ralph sends Peabody at it, 
 just giving him a reminder with the spurs. Peabody is not 
 likely to make a mistake, and then it is galloping again over 
 grass whence a gap leads into a bit of plough, and there is 
 another sharp ascent, over which the hounds disappear like 
 magic. AVhen the little ridge is topped, Ralph puts his hands 
 down again and passes the baker's white horse like a flash of 
 lightning. He just hears him say " Evcrsley brook," but the 
 words convey no further meaning, for he does not remember to 
 have heard of the brook before. The plough is again exchanged 
 for grass, and then there are a number of small water ditches to 
 
206 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 cross ; between them the ground becomes heavier and heavier at 
 every stride. Just in front is a row of pollard willows, and the sky- 
 blue jackets slip do^vn between them. "Water," thinks Ralph; 
 " I wonder whether he will jump it." No ; Peabody will not 
 jump it, nor will any other horse in England. Eversley brook, 
 swollen by recent rains, is a great stream twelve or fifteen yards 
 wide, and there is nothing for it but to walk in and trust to Pro- 
 vidence. When Ralph reaches the willows, Beecher is emerging 
 on the other side, while the whip's horse is scrambling about in 
 the water. ** Steady, old man ! " cries Ralph, pulling Pea- 
 body together, ** Steady ; we must not gallop through this." 
 He has marked the place where the huntsman crossed, and 
 keeping well to the left, only just gets his boots wet, while 
 the whip was over his horse's back in water. The fox 
 has run along the bank for a little, and hounds hang for a 
 few seconds, but then they are away again, through a farm- 
 yard, round the haystacks, across the palings, into the garden. 
 The farmer's wife opens the little wicket gate, and carefully 
 following the neat gravel path, they emerge on a high road, 
 while Ralph hopes for a chance of letting Peabody get his 
 wind. Not a bit of it. Along the grassy side of the road, 
 then again to the left, up a steep bank and hedge, across two 
 ploughed fields towards a large wood. Ralph sees the wood 
 and thinks that there must be a check here ; so takes a pull 
 and eases Peabody up the steep plough. But when he reaches 
 the wood hounds have disappeared, and there is no one visible 
 except Hampton. " Over this fence," cries Ralph, pointing to 
 the right, whence he hears the music. The baker sends his 
 horse at the easiest place, but the white is done and refuses. 
 
 "Get out of the way," cries Ralph, and Peabody flies it as if 
 they had only just started, and tears down the hill again fresh 
 as a two-year-old. At the corner of the wood Ralph sees the 
 hounds emerge, and there are only two blue coats and a black 
 one with them. On again, over a low stile which Peabody hits 
 hard. "Come up, yon fool," says Ralph, giving him a touch 
 with the spur, and then sees Beecher flying another one a 
 
HER OPENING DAY. 207 
 
 sood (leal liifflier. " Confound tliese stiles for a tired horse ! " 
 lie thinks, but needs must, and this time Peabody jumps a foot 
 too high, nearly sending Ralph over his head. Another hundred 
 yards, and the silvery shine of water, flowing through a park- 
 like meadow, gleams in front. The two blue coats fly it ; the 
 black one souses with a splash into the middle. Ralph chooses 
 his place and gives Peabody a cut with his whip. " Over, old 
 man !" and with just a peck the good horse lands safely on the 
 firm bank. Black coat, too, has scrambled out, and is climbing 
 on his horse again. The hounds are now running mute, they 
 rush through some iron hurdles, and the whip pushes the gate 
 open, through which Ralph and black coat follow. But Beecher 
 keeps on to the left. Why ? Never mind, thinks Ralph : 
 *' always stick to hounds." On they go, galloping over beautiful 
 firm grass, over undulating ground, under tall trees, past hand- 
 some cows startled from cud- chewing by the music of the 
 Lounds. Ralph is now on the right of the pack, the whip on 
 the left, black coat close to them. But what is that in front ? 
 Alas ! a ghastly wooden paling, close as a wall, and ten feet 
 high. The hounds reach it and bay wildly ; some strive to get 
 over and fall back, others rush up and down it in despair. 
 Reckless manages to top it, but the pack is pounded. The whip 
 jumps off and attempts to pull out a plank ; Ralph does likewise 
 and helps him. With united efiorts they manage to tear down 
 a couple of the palings, and the hounds rush through with loud 
 music. But how are they to get through ? There are three 
 tremendously strong wooden bars, the highest at least nine feet 
 from the ground. It is hopeless. Done, by Jove ! And then, 
 and only then, Ralph thought of Marian. He had actually for- 
 gotten all about her. But all this delay has let the others up, 
 and while they are tugging at the planks, he sees Mr. Fetlock 
 and Mr. Ward and young Lord Somers gallop along on the 
 right side of the palings. That is the reason why Beecher did 
 not turn through the gate. Why did not the fool tell them ? 
 There is no nearer way out than the gate they came in by, or 
 down through the village. ' Disgust, anger, despair are all 
 
208 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 depicted on Ralph's counteuance. He gives another desperate 
 tug at the top bar, when he sees the little vet sailing along on 
 his well-bred brown, and Marian in his wake, her pony all over 
 foam, but still able to go somehow. The whip, too, has dis- 
 appeared. Hurrah ! the bar is yielding. One more pull and 
 Ralph gets it down, but tumbles with it and grazes his shin at 
 the lower one. No time to Avait. Peabody has recovered his 
 wind, so he scrambles on and sends the horse at the now possible 
 place. There is a little hesitation which Ralph does not like, 
 but the gallant animal does his best. Even now the rails are 
 four feet high and very stout ; he gets over them somehow, but 
 certainly hits them hard. Now Ralph must ride by following 
 the hoofmarks of the leaders, and he does ride all he knows. 
 More grass fields, a bit of plough, a few small jumps, and then, 
 on the slope of a green knoll, he sees a group assembled of 
 which he knows the import. A blue-coated man is standing on 
 the grass, holding a carcase aloft, and round him a crowd of 
 dirt-stained, draggled hounds, with heads uplifted for their 
 reward. Half-a-dozen figures stand near, holding their horses' 
 bridles, and one lady is among them, the only person still 
 mounted. As he rides slowly up, for Peabody has now shot 
 his bolt, Beecher approaches Marian, and solemnly presents the 
 brush to the delighted girl. 
 
 "Well done, Marian," he cries, and she turns to him a face 
 flushed with the run, but only enough to make it more interest- 
 ing, eyes flashing with pleasure, and all her features lighted up 
 with the excitement of the chase. 
 
 " Oh ! was it not grand, Mr. Branscombe?" she cries. 
 
 ** Capital," he answers, *' if I had not been pounded at those 
 palings." But he had no idea until that moment that Marian 
 Dawson was really a very in-etty girl. " Where are we ?" ho 
 asked of Beecher. 
 
 " Craysfoot, sir ; about two miles from Marbury." 
 
 " Marbury ! why that's twelve miles from Westboume, quite 
 in the Bankshire country." 
 
 *' All that, sir," says Lord Somers, " and twenty from Silver- 
 
HER OPENING DAY. 
 
 209 
 
 stone, the way we have come. You're right in the Bankshire 
 country. One hour and thirty-five minutes, scarcely a check, 
 and only six up at the finish. One of them a young lady, too," 
 he added, gallantly raising his hat — " rides like a good one." 
 
 " It is her first day with hounds," observed Mr. Snow. 
 
 "Her first day with hounds! Really?" continued Lord 
 Somers. " Yet when she goes home, she may say that she has 
 ridden all through the best eun of the season." 
 
 Mnm%'!,S 
 
 ^\. ^ 
 
 _f'S^M^':^^y-%^ 
 
CHAPTER XXVn. 
 
 A STEEPLECHASE. 
 
 TWENTY miles from 
 Silverstoue, but only 
 seven or eight from 
 Branscombe Hall," 
 said Ralph to his 
 charge. " Abendigo 
 is quite done, and 
 Peabodycan scarcely 
 raise a trot. I hardly 
 know what to do." 
 
 He looked at his 
 watch. It was barely 
 half-past two. "We 
 are right in the mid- 
 dle of the country," 
 he continued. " The nearest railway station is Warboro', and 
 that is seven miles, too. We could ride into Marbury, and 
 gruel them, but then we should still have twenty miles home, 
 and they would both be as stiff as pokers. You would not care 
 about leaving the pony at an inn, would you, Marian ? " 
 
 " No, indeed," said Marian, patting her favourite's neck, "not 
 after such a gallop. Fancy leaving the poor dear to some 
 drunken ostler ! " 
 
 " I think by far the best plan," said Ralph, " will be to ride 
 over to Branscombe Hall, and keep your pony for a day or two. 
 Abendigo will be well looked after there." 
 " But what shall I do ? " asked Marian. 
 " Oh, we can put you up. Diana will make you comfortable, 
 and I will take you home to-morrow morning." 
 
A STEEPLECHASE. 211 
 
 *' But ]Miss Nettlerash will be very anxious." 
 
 "No," answered Kalph ; "I will telegrapli to her from 
 Marbury." 
 
 "But I have no clothes," urged Marian. 
 
 " Diana, or some of the women, will put that all right," Ralph 
 said, supremely indifferent to an objection of this nature. *' I 
 do not see how otherwise we can deal with the horses and our- 
 selves. We are very lucky to have run into my own country." 
 
 So they stopped at Marbury just to send a telegram and to 
 give the horses some gruel, and then jogged along the winding 
 lanes towards Branscombe Hall. Ralph of course knew this 
 part ot the country well, and m less than an hour they turned 
 into the gate of Branscombe Home Farm, and five minutes 
 later clattered into the stable yard. 
 
 " Is your mistress at home ? " he asked the groom who came 
 out to take their horses. 
 
 *' No, sir, missus has driven out in the brougham," answered 
 the man. " She started about three o'clock." 
 
 *' All right. See to that pony and Peabody. Rub them down 
 dry and get them some gruel. Put the pony in the box next to 
 Black Swan. Come along, Marian," he said to the girl, who 
 was so tired and stiff that she required his arm to help her into 
 the house. 
 
 He went straight to the housekeeper's room. " ]\Irs. Armit," 
 he said to the elderly woman who had looked after Sir Henry's 
 servants for some years, " will you please try and make this 
 young lady comfortable ? She is my aunt Miss Nettlerash's 
 ward, and has had a very hard day. We must put her up for 
 to-night. See what you can do for her." 
 
 Mrs. Armit curtseyed and said, " We did not expect you 
 home till to-morrow, sir, and I am afraid there's no fire in 
 your dressing-room, nor in the library either." 
 
 *' Never mind me, Mrs. Armit; I shall do well enough. Look 
 after Miss Dawson. I suppose there's no change in my uncle ? 
 Did your mistress say when she was coming home ? " 
 
 "No, sir. The mistress said that you wouldn't be home 
 
 p 2 
 
212 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 till to-morrow, and that she did not think she'd have any dinner 
 to-night." 
 
 Ralph smiled, knowing that his wife liked a " high tea " when 
 she could get it. 
 
 "Well, you will have to find some dinner somehow, by- 
 and-by." 
 
 With a nod to Marian he left her to Mrs. Armit, who at once 
 took her charge to her own warm room, while a fire was being 
 lighted up in one of the spare bed-chambers. 
 
 Ralph walked leisurely to his dressing-room, and was just 
 proceeding to throw off his hunting clothes, when he perceived a 
 white object stuck into the corner of the looking-glass. It was a 
 note, addressed to himself, and he was amazed when he recognized 
 his wife's handwriting. 
 
 " What on earth is this ? " he said aloud, and tore it open. 
 
 There were but a few lines, evidently written in haste and 
 emotion. 
 
 " When you receive this," he read, " I shall be hundreds of 
 miles away. Do not attempt to follow me ; it would be useless. 
 I have tried to love you, but it cannot be. Forget if you cannot 
 forgive Diana." 
 
 He stuffed the letter into his pocket, seized his hat and hunting 
 crop, and rushed to the stable-yard. Short as Avas the distance, 
 he had rapidly thought over his course of action before he 
 reached the stables. 
 
 " Do you know which way your mistress drove ? " he asked 
 Charles, who was rubbing down Peabody. 
 
 " Chalford way, sir, I believe," answered the man. " The 
 mistress took a box with her, sir. She mentioned that she was 
 going shopping, and told John to drive her to the station first." 
 
 " What time did she start ? " continued Ralph, as quietly as 
 he could. 
 
 " Three o'clock, sir," answered the man. " The brougham 
 was ordered at a quarter to, sir ; but missus M-as a little late 
 getting away. Three o'clock went just as I opened the gate." 
 
A STEEPLECHASE. 213 
 
 "Is James there?" asked Ealpli again, burning with im- 
 patience and anxiety, but struggling to appear cool. "James ! 
 saddle Black Swan at once, and girth her up tight. Look alive, 
 man ; I shall be down in three minutes." 
 
 And Ralph ran back into the house, into the library, where 
 there was a time-table. 
 
 She started at three for Chalford, as if to catch a train at 
 about four o'clock. But there was no train to London at that 
 time. There was one at 3.20, but she could not j)ossibly have 
 intended to catch that one. It was eight miles over a hilly road, 
 and Diana knew too well what horses could do to under-estimate 
 the time required. After this hour there was no up train stop- 
 ping at Chalford Station till 5.40. If she had proposed going by 
 this, there was yet ample time to stop her. He laid the book 
 do\Mi with something of relief; he had plenty of time to spare, 
 and could change his things and drive over in the dog-cart with- 
 out exciting the slightest surprise in the house. He could also 
 telegraph from Chalford to St. Pancras, if further consideration 
 satisfied him that this would be of any use. But stay ! was it 
 certain that she would go to London ? Might not the fugitives 
 — for, of course, the Colonel must be meeting her at Chalford — 
 select another route, in order to baffle pursuit ? They, too, 
 would think of the electric wire, and might suppose that Mrs. 
 Armit or the butler, finding that their mistress did not return, 
 would telegraph to Ralph at Silverstone. Perhaps they were 
 going down the line instead of up. Ralph again opened the 
 book. There was a down train due at Chalford at 4.7, which 
 passed Donnington without stopping, called at Warboro' at 4.23, 
 and reached Eastport, a favourite place of embarkation foi 
 Holland and German}^, at 6 p.m. And besides Eastport, therd 
 was Grandborough, a newly created station for Continental 
 traffic, whence steamers started for Antwerp, Rotterdam, and 
 Hamburg on several evenings in the week. For all these de- 
 partures the 4.7 train Avould serve. Undoubtedly, that was the 
 one they intended to take. If Ralph had not returned until the 
 next day they would have been abroad hours before he reached 
 
214 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 home. Of course it ^Yas hopeless to get to ChalforJ m time. 
 It was now ten minutes to four. The train would be due there 
 in seventeen minutes ; but as it stopped at Warboro', would it 
 not be possible to catch the fugitives there ? Ealph was sternly 
 determined that he would overtake them if it was humanly 
 possible. He would not have the family disgraced, and he would, 
 sooner shoot Colonel Mannering on the spot than see a paragraph 
 on the elopement going the round of the papers. It was nearly 
 nine miles to Warboro' Station by road, but two less across 
 country. Pie again looked at his watch. Thirty-two minutes 
 before the train was due ! Black Swan ought to do it, if he took 
 her on a bee line across country. She was thoroughbred, and 
 jumped like a cat. She must do it, but there was not a mo- 
 ment to lose. Too much time had already been wasted, though 
 he was quicker in consulting the time-book, and deciding on the 
 course to pursue, than can be the reader in perusing the narra- 
 tive of his doings. Ralph did not stop to exchange his pink for 
 a more appropriate coat. As he sprang into the saddle and gave 
 the mare her head he thought bitterly of the quarry he was now 
 chasing. Was scarlet as correct a colour for wife-hunting as for 
 fox-hunting ? But all his energies, mental and bodily, were re- 
 quired for the work before him, and his thoughts had to be con- 
 centrated on the shortest cut to the station. He resolved not to 
 lose a second if he could help it. Shouting to James to tell 
 Mrs. Armit to give the young lady some dinner, he galloped 
 down the avenue at top speed, and had disappeared before the 
 astonished grooms knew what he was about. He would gain 
 nothing by turning through Bray Copse ; of that he felt sure ; 
 but at Long Wood he opened a bridle gate and scampered down 
 the ride at full speed. The rays of an almost horizontal sun 
 shone in his eyes as he passed out of the big covert and set the 
 mare's head straight across the ploughs and fallows of the higher 
 land. She flew the little fences in her stride, for this was the 
 easiest part of the country to cross. Soon he came to the end 
 of the Branscombe property, and the ground began to fall as he 
 neared the Warboro' Vale. There had, so far, been nothing to 
 
A STEEPLECHASE. 215 
 
 stop liim. He knew every inch of the way, and steered for 
 liandy gaps, negotiable fences, and gates it was easy to open. 
 But the most difficult task was before him. His next " point " 
 was Scratch Wood, and there was a wide expanse of grass to 
 cross, intrenched by two flights of posts and rails. It was out 
 of the question to go round by the gates ; he might lose 
 two minutes. Black Swan had never had such a chance since 
 she had been in the Branscombe stables. She stole across the 
 turf like a shadow, her long easy stride being exactly suited 
 to the ground. The cold air rushed past Kalph's head, and 
 cooled his heated brow. At the first post and rails the mare 
 never stopped, but flew them in her stride ; the next flight was 
 higher, and the ground was soft. There was an ominous clatter 
 of her heels on the timber, but Balph sat well back and recovered 
 her with a pull on the snaffle. Then he bore a little to the left 
 up a farm road, where two gates were fortunately open, and on 
 the firmer ground the mare recovered her wind, which the last 
 wet meadow had tried a good deal. He hammered down a lane 
 and up the rise leading to Scratch Wood, astonishing the driver 
 of a cart heavily laden with straw. "Be the hounds here?" 
 asked the man ; but Kalph scarcely heard the question. Twilight 
 was rapidly coming on, and the time was getting very short 
 indeed. From Scratch Wood the line lay across the water 
 meadows they had run over on the day when Ralph had first 
 made the Colonel's acquaintance, and as he jumped the first 
 ditch he remembered, with bitter regret, the words Fetlock had 
 spoken to the Honourable Seaton Delaval on their way home. 
 "It's her fancy man," the horse-dealer had said. Yes! her 
 foolish, wild fancy ; her fancy which no human nor divine law, 
 no sense of gratitude nor of honour, was strong enough to drive 
 out. Another ditch, and yet another, both gleaming yellow in the 
 last tints of the sunset. Then he must ford the Warboro' brook. 
 Ralph thought he knew the place well, yet when he reached the 
 bank it seemed rather strange to him. This was evidently not 
 the usual ford ; he must have missed it somehow. For a mo- 
 ment he pulled up Black Swan. She was covered with foam, 
 
2iG FAIR DIANA. 
 
 and her flanks were heaving. He looked at his watch ; it was ten 
 minutes past four. Thirteen were left to reach the station — 
 nearly three miles to cross, even if the brook were safely forded. 
 There must be no hesitation. A touch of the spurs, and the 
 gallant mare plunged in. The water was deep, and the bottom 
 bad ; she floundered and lost her footing. Ralph was ofl' her 
 back in a moment, and sank in above his waist, but Black Swan, 
 relieved of his weight, scrambled to her feet again, and he urged 
 her on with his voice while he dragged her by the bridle. It 
 seemed to him an eternity before they reached the bank, for the 
 mud clung to his boots and dragged him back, while the mare 
 struggled in the deep ooze. At last she stood on the grass, 
 scared and shivering. The hillside looked black in the deepening 
 twilight, but Ralph knew that there was nothing to stop them 
 now till they reached the Station Road. He urged her up the 
 turf, through a gap in the fence, into a convenient furrow, and 
 then he topped the hill, and saw the confused lights of Warboro' 
 town below him on his right, while the red and green signals at 
 the station" were straight before him. Down he sped at the best 
 gallop the mare could raise. She crashed through the next fences, 
 barely rising to them, and then they were on firm grass again, 
 marked out for future building plots, but fortunately not yet cut 
 up. Then down a steep lane and to the left along a half-finished 
 road, closed at the end by a post and rails. He thought there 
 was a place where he could creep through, but as he galloped 
 along the road he heard a whistle, and raising his eyes saw the 
 signals shifted and the engine lamps approaching on the down 
 line. That must be the train ! Not fifty yards from the station, 
 and to miss it ! It should not be. He could not look for the 
 gap. " Come up, old mare," he shouted, as he drove the rowels 
 cruelly into Black Swan's flanks, and rode at the timber. But 
 she was done. She tried her best, and rose as high as she 
 could, but she could not clear the top rail. 
 
 "With a hea\'y thud, horse and rider crashed down on the hard 
 road, while the grinding of the brake was heard from the station 
 opposite, and tlic porters shouted " Warboro' ! " " Warboro' ! " 
 
(fl 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 AN INTERVIEW AT CLOSE QUARTERS. 
 
 WAS not 
 
 for nothing 
 that Ralph 
 had ridden 
 to hounds 
 ever since 
 he was a 
 boy. His 
 experience 
 stood him 
 in good 
 stead on 
 
 this momentous occasion. When the mare strove to rise at the 
 rails, he drew his feet out of the stirrups ; he guessed that she 
 would come down, and rode, in fact, for a fall. Almost before 
 her loiees touched the ground, certainly before she rolled over on 
 her side, he was on his feet, and leaving poor Black Swan to 
 shift for herself, ran across the station yard into the building. 
 
 He darted through the booking-office onto the platform. The 
 porters were banging the doors. He rushed along the train, and 
 only slackened his speed when he came to the well-lighted first- 
 class carriages. Glancing into each as he passed, he saw neither 
 the Colonel nor Diana. The blinds were all up, and the passen- 
 gers exposed to the full light of the station gas and the carriage 
 lamps. But the last compartment in front, nearest the brake- 
 van, was hermetically closed, and a narrow white label, with 
 ** Engaged" in red letters on it, was pasted diagonally across a 
 side window. 
 
218 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " Open this door, Smith," said Ralph to his friend the station- 
 master, who was busy at the van. 
 
 " Not this one, sir,"' answered Smith, recognising Ralph imme- 
 diately. " Had a good day with the hounds, Mr. Ralph ? Get 
 in here, sir," and he led him to the next carriage. 
 
 "No, this one. Smith; look sharp. I know it's engaged. 
 Never mind, I'll see you through it." 
 
 Smith stared. At that moment the guard of the train held up 
 his hand, cried *' Right forward ! " and gave his shrill whistle. 
 Ralph dived into his pocket and brought out a handful of 
 silver. 
 
 " Be sharp, man ! Mum's the word ! I'll see you right," and 
 lie stuffed the money into Smith's hand. 
 
 The train was moving, and Ralph seized the brass bar on the 
 carriage. The station-master clicked his key and opened the 
 door. Ralph swung himself in as the guard cried, " Now look 
 out there, you'll be killed ! " and the door was slammed behind 
 him. 
 
 " This carriage is engaged," said a well-known voice ; "you 
 can't get in here." 
 
 It was Colonel Mannering in the near corner. Ralph had 
 actually trodden on his toes. In the other corner, with her 
 back to the engine, was a cloaked figure, which he recognized 
 at once as Diana's. Startled by the sudden intrusion, she 
 looked up. 
 
 " Ralph ! " she cried, and buried her face in her hands. 
 
 The Colonel stared in blank amazement. It was undoubtedly 
 an awkward position. The train was not timed to stop for another 
 forty miles, and the three were bound to remain in each other's 
 company for at least that number of minutes. 
 
 "Yes," said Ralph, endeavouring to recover his composure, 
 "it is I. Providence has interfered to prevent your running 
 away with my wife. Colonel Mannering." 
 
 " Sir," beg3,n the Colonel, "I don't understand by what right 
 
 You don't understand by what right I have come to stop 
 
AN INTERVIEW AT CLOSE QUARTERS. 21 9 
 
 you ? Indeed ? I should have thought that even your intelli- 
 gence would have grasped that much. However, first I have to 
 talk to my wife. You and I will settle matters by-and-by." 
 
 The Colonel was too much taken by surprise to reply. In fact 
 it would have been difficult to frame an appropriate answer. 
 Eunning away with another man's wife, as he undoubtedly was, 
 he could scarcely assume the part of outraged virtue. At the 
 moment, not being able to find anything to say, he held his 
 peace. Ralph went over to the other side of the carriage, and 
 sat down opposite his wife. 
 
 " Diana," he began, " you must come home with me. I am 
 here to save you from disgrace. You have neglected my warnings, 
 you have been fascinated by this man, but it is not too late. 
 You can still return without any one but ourselves knowing what 
 has happened, and at the next station you will have to get out 
 with me." 
 
 Diana shook her head, but did not answer. 
 
 " You must," he continued. " It cannot, of course, any 
 longer be a question of love and affection. That is at an end. 
 But Sir Henry Branscombe's niece, Ralph Branscombe's wife, 
 shall not be known as an outcast and a lost woman, as long as I 
 am alive to prevent it." 
 
 " Mr. Branscombe," cried the Colonel, starting up, "you are 
 insulting the lady." 
 
 *' Insulting her ! " sneered Ralph. " I wonder which of us 
 two is insulting her ? I, who am come to bring her back to her 
 duty, to her home, and to an honourable life, or you, who have 
 seduced her from her husband, and are going to make her your 
 mistress ? " 
 
 " Sir," exclaimed Mannering, flushing scarlet, while Diana 
 winced under the scathing words, " how dare you ? There will 
 of course be a divorce, and you are speaking to the future Mrs. 
 Mannering." 
 
 "Indeed?" asked Ralph. "So you want to marry her? 
 And you think the best way is to drag her through the mire of 
 the Divorce Court first, and make Diana Branscombe a name to 
 
220 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 be bandied on the lips of every newspaper reader in the kingdom ? 
 No, Colonel Mannering, I shall not help you to that. On the 
 whole, I would rather shoot you and take my chance of being 
 hung. My wife would at any rate not be spoken of and sneered 
 at as a lost woman by every ruffian in England. If you are so 
 anxious to marry her now, why did you not propose to her before ? 
 She would have accepted you soon enough." 
 
 *' Last year," answered the Colonel, glad to have at last a 
 reasonable chance, " it was impossible for me to marry." 
 
 *' Why ? " asked Ralph incredulously. 
 
 *' Because I had contracted an unfortunate marriage when very 
 young. My wife was still living. She died suddenly this 
 summer." 
 
 "If what you tell me is true," replied Ralph, after a few 
 moments' thought, " you are not quite such an unmitigated 
 villain as I thought you were." 
 
 The Colonel started violently. 
 
 *' Oh," continued Ealph, " do not excite yourself. I am not 
 here to pay you compliments. I thought you a degree worse 
 than you are ; that is all. But even now I am by no means sure 
 that you would marry Diana, even if she were free. She might 
 have no money, you know." 
 
 Mannering again started to his feet. 
 
 "Anyhow," continued Ralph, now quite calm, "I sha'n't 
 give you the chance. I have already told you that I intend my 
 wife to come home with .me. If you object actively, I shall 
 throw you out of this carriage." 
 
 "I should like to see jon try," said the Colonel, smiling. 
 
 " I don't think you would, much," replied the husband. 
 ** I'm pretty handy with my fists, sometimes. But it would not 
 be good form to have a fight in the presence of a lady, would it? 
 So we will dismiss that question for a moment. You cannot 
 very well prevent my taking Mrs. Branscombo home when the 
 train stops at Mornington, because I should appeal to the 
 police, and the police would scarcely give you a right to take 
 her away. There would only be more scandal for nothing." 
 
AX INTERVIEW AT CLOSE QUARTERS. 221 
 
 Now, at last, Diana spoke : 
 
 " It's of no use my goiiif]; home, Ralph. I am afraid I should 
 run away next time I had a chance." 
 
 "Poor Diana ! " sighed he, again addressing himself to her; 
 " and poor me ! Do you hate me so very much ? " 
 
 "Not at all," replied Diana. "I like you! Oh, dear ! if 
 you were only my hrother, I would love you." 
 
 " Do you love him so very much ? " asked Ealph. 
 
 She merely bowed her head. 
 
 " My dear Diana," Ralph went on, " it is a terrible fate, but 
 you and I must make the best of it. You must put up with 
 me till I break my neck, or die of a broken heart. For, indeed, 
 my heart is broken, Diana, and I shall never hold up my head 
 again." 
 
 She looked at him, doubtfully. There was no mistaking his 
 sad eyes, nor the expression of his voice. 
 
 ** We have made a dreadful mistake," Ralph went on, " and 
 do you think I can ever be happy again, knowing that she whom 
 I have loved more than my life has been false to the vows she 
 swore at the altar ? If you are wretched because you love 
 another, I shall be equally wretched, having loved you in vain. 
 You will be without a husband, I without a wife. But until 
 God puts an end to our misery by taking one of us away, we 
 must bear it. Just think of your uncle, if, as may occur, 
 his senses return ! think of his agony at knowing how you have 
 erred ! Think of your own future life — at the best, a divorcee 
 — pointed at, talked about, refused admittance by the ver}' 
 people who were at your feet when you were Mrs. Branscombe ; 
 with a conscience of evil which will not let you rest, scorned by 
 this world, and unworthy of a better ! That would be the 
 future of the brilliant, beautiful, and clever Diana Branscombe." 
 
 Diana groaned, and hid her face in her handkerchief. 
 
 " This," continued Ralph, " is only a suggestion of what 
 would happen. Your misery would pursue you day and night. 
 In the midst of gaieties you would think of the home you had 
 made desolate, of the old man you had disgraced. And what 
 
222 FAIR DIAKA. 
 
 sort of gaieties would be yours ? Only such amusements as are 
 obtainable for a little money. Wherever honour and position 
 are the keys of admittance, you, Diana, would be excluded. 
 There is not a pack of hounds with which you could show your 
 face ; you would have to look from outside on the world you 
 love so well ; and as to society, you would be a pariah. Can 
 your love for this man compensate for all the suffering you 
 would heap on yourself, on me, and on others ? " 
 
 Diana was a woman, and stood up for her lover, even now. 
 She was sobbing ; but between her sobs she said, in almost in- 
 audible tones, "I cannot help it. He is good and brave ; I 
 must go with him." 
 
 The Colonel had, to use an Americanism, been ** lying low '* 
 during the past few minutes. He saw that the game was going 
 against him, and that if he did not interfere, Diana would yield 
 to her husband. He resolved to play his trump card. He was 
 not the man to give up without a struggle the woman whom he 
 loved passionately, as far as his nature could understand love — 
 the woman for whom he had lied and intrigued during the past 
 twelve months. A supreme struggle must be made. Any- 
 how he felt that he would have to fight Ealph sooner or later, 
 perhaps some morning on a desolate field in Belgium, without 
 any advantage on his side. Better fight him now, while Diana 
 was still his own ally, and when by a bold stroke he could secure 
 the victory. 
 
 Ralph was stooping forward on his seat, holding Diana's 
 hands. Quick as thought, the Colonel hit him on the temple 
 with his left hand, and then throwing his right arm round the 
 neck of poor Ralph, who had fallen against the carriage door, he 
 nearly throttled him. 
 
 " Quick, Diana, let down the window and open the door ! 
 That side is not locked. We can throw him out. Quick, I 
 say ! " he cried, as Diana stared in vacant amazement. " He 
 won't hurt; there's no other line on that side." 
 
 But a sudden revulsion came over Diana. A veil seemed to 
 fall from her eyes, and suddenly she recognized Colonel Man- 
 
AN INTERVIEW AT CLOSE QUARTERS. 223 
 
 nering in his true colours. Was this then the man for whom 
 she had hetrayed her brave and loyal husband ? One Avho 
 would not scruple even to murder; to low dastardly gar- 
 rotting, to gain his ends ? Cowed by her outraged husband's 
 words, he had patiently waited till his victim's back was 
 turned, and had then smitten him cruelly from behind ! And 
 for this man, who was trying to throw an innocent fellow- 
 creature, one whom he had grossly injured, out of a train 
 flying over the ground at the rate of fifty miles an hour, for 
 him she was going to sacrifice her whole life, and the happi- 
 ness of all who were dear to her ! She grew sick at the 
 thought. But it was not the time to faint, and Diana Brans- 
 combe was not the woman to give way. 
 
 *' Let him go. Colonel Mannering. Take your hands off, I 
 say," she cried, wrenching the soldier's arm from Ralph's 
 throat. " Cruel coward ! " And she flashed her black eyes at 
 him, as he fell back on the seat, as much overwhelmed by her 
 changed manner and words as by her violent grasp of his arm. 
 
 Ealph struggled to his feet, breathless, exhausted; and 
 looked round all dazed. The Colonel sprang at him again, 
 Diana threw herself between them. 
 
 "You shall not touch my husband ! " she cried, holding up 
 her right hand menacingly. " If you dare, I shall break this 
 glass, and call the guard. I shall tell him that you tried to 
 commit a murder ! a murder, do you hear ? " 
 
 " Diana!" murmured the Colonel, surprised, while Ralph was 
 endeavouring to collect his senses ; " what do you mean, my 
 love?" 
 
 " Your love ! " and her lip curled. *' Shame on me, that I 
 have ever allowed you to use such a term, and to use it with 
 reason ! Blind fool that I was, to be bewitched by your sweet 
 words and your soft eyes. Oh, God ! Oh, God ! can I ever 
 be forgiven ? " 
 
 And her nerves gave way to the strain, as she sank back 
 on the seat, and hid her face in the cushion. 
 
 The two men glared at each other. Ealph attempted to. 
 
224 
 
 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 arrange his dress, which had sorely suffered since he left 
 Silver stone, and a strange figure he looked. His boots were 
 covered with mud, his red coat bespattered and torn, his arm 
 was bruised from the fall at Warboro' station, his temple 
 bleeding from the Colonel's cruel blow, his collar and tie 
 pulled out of all shape in the struggle, his hat battered, 
 hanging behind him by the string. The train was slackening 
 speed. He pulled up the rug which had covered Diana's knees, 
 and threw it around him. 
 
 " "We get out here, Colonel Mannering," he said. " Please to 
 make room." 
 
 And he raised his almost unconscious wife from her seat, and 
 helped her on to the platform. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 RECOVERY. 
 
 niglit journey 
 by the mail, 
 and the long, 
 slow drive in 
 a hired fly 
 from War- 
 b o r o ' to 
 Brans combe 
 were scarcely 
 broken by a 
 single word 
 from either 
 of the couple. 
 
 So many exciting thoughts crowded on Ralph's mind that he 
 could not sleep, though his body was exhausted by the violent 
 work and emotions of the long day. Every limb was aching, and 
 every nerve strained to its utmost tension. Diana seemed to be 
 sunk in a species of stupor. She murmured, " Thank you," 
 when her husband made her as comfortable as he could in the 
 return train, and when he helped her on to the deserted platform 
 of the Warboro' station. But she showed no other sign of 
 consciousness. It was not the time to inquire after poor Black 
 Swan. There was no one at the station except one night-porter, 
 and the ostler of the " Red Lion" had to be roused out of deep 
 slumber to get a conveyance ready. The night v/as chill and 
 damp ; the thick mist of the previous morning had returned, and 
 the poor job-horse went stumbling and shambling along the 
 dirty road, while the old vehicle rattled and groaned behind him. 
 It was two o'clock when the dripping driver climbed down from 
 his seat to push open the Park gates. Ralph lowered the glass, 
 
226 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 and looked out as they slov.-ly plodded up the drive. The old 
 house loomed black through the mist, hut there was a faint 
 glimmer of light iu a window. Some one was evidently waiting 
 up for them. The sound of the door-hell echoed strangely 
 through the deep silence of the dark passages, but they had not 
 to wait long, for Mrs. Armit herself came to open the door. 
 "Keep the change," said Ealpli to the man, as he gave him a 
 sovereign, and turned to help Diana out. She appeared almost 
 inanimate ; a cold shiver, which occasionally shook her body, was 
 the only sign of life. *' Put your mistress to bed," Ralph went 
 on, " we have had a very cold journey and she is quite done up." 
 
 Mrs. Armit stared a little. She was too good a servant to 
 ask questions, but she v/ould evidently have given a month's 
 wages to know what had happened. It was scarcely usual for 
 her young, master to gallop ofi" again after ho had returned from 
 hunting, without stopping to change his clothes ; and it was 
 still more strange for him to return with his wife in the small 
 hours of the morning, when the latter had gone olY professedly 
 to do a little shopping. 
 
 "Make haste," exclaimed Ralph, who had had time to pre- 
 pare as much of a story as he cared to tell, " Mrs. Branscombe 
 had to go to see a sick friend a long way off, and she is quite 
 tired out with the excitement of the journey. Can you make 
 her some tea? Are any of the servants up ? " 
 
 It was some time before poor Diana was made comfortable, 
 but when Ralph left her she had fallen into a deep sleep, which 
 was to last for many hours. He, however, was less fortunate. 
 He lay tossing uneasily from side to side, and when at last he 
 dropped into an uneasy slumber woke with a start, fancying he 
 still felt Colonel IMannering's grasp round his throat, and the 
 soldier's angry eyes glaring at hira. The dawn was creeping 
 through the window of the little dressing-room before he sud- 
 denly remembered Marian. Poor little girl ! AVhat had she 
 done with herself since the previous afternoon '? Tired as he 
 was, he rose at his usual hour, and was in the dining-room 
 before ^larian appeared. 
 
Recovery. 227 
 
 " I am very sorry that you have been left all alone," he said, 
 as he took her hand. " My wife was suddenly called away by 
 the dangerous illness of a dear friend. I did not want her to 
 remain alone at this lady's bedside, so I also followed. And 1 
 had no time to tell you about it before I started." 
 
 Ralph was not in the habit of telling stories, and he told them 
 like a novice. He could easily make a brief statement to tlui 
 servant, who had no right to ask further, but he felt uncomfort- 
 able when he had to meet Marian's frank open eyes. 
 
 " I am so sorry," she said ; "I hope the lady is better." 
 
 "Oh, yes, thank you," answered Ralph. "But my wife is 
 so done up that I fear she will not be able to see you before 
 you go." 
 
 For now his burning wish was to get rid of Marian. The 
 girl's expression, which she had not yet learned to control, 
 showed wonder not unmixed with incredulity, and Ralph felt 
 that it would be highly inconvenient to keep her at the Hall 
 during the next twenty-four hours. 
 
 " If you please, sir," said the servant who brought in the 
 urn, " Mr. Greaves would be glad to see you when you are 
 disengaged." 
 
 "Let him wait," said Ralph. 
 
 Mr. Greaves was the Warboro' vet. Ralph suspected that the 
 visit concerned Black Swan. Nor was he mistaken. For when 
 it had been arranged, over their breakfast, that Marian was at 
 once to return to Miss Nettlerash's wing under his own escort, 
 Ralph went out to speak to the surgeon. It appeared that the 
 poor mare had picked herself up after her fall, and limped along 
 the road towards home, her bridle hanging down loosely, and her 
 knees bleeding. She was stopped by a couple of boys, and they 
 in turn were arrested by the local policeman, who with the 
 usual intelligence of his kind, was about to walk them off to the 
 station-house on the charge of stealing the mare. Fortunately a 
 farmer passing the spot was attracted by the small crowd of idlers 
 and children, and at once noticed that the horse was severely 
 hurt. He suggested that the lads' explanation was probably a 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 true Olio, for obviously an accident had occurred. The constable 
 was very unwilling to give up so promising a "case " as one of 
 horse-stealing, but the farmer insisted on the poor mare being 
 led to Mr. Greaves' forge. That gentleman took charge of the 
 animal, and the boys were released. In the mornmg when 
 examining the mare by day-light, he recognised Black Swan, 
 and at once rode over to the Hall. 
 
 Ralph feared that it would be necessary to invent another tale ; 
 but avoided it by telling a half truth and using the old story. 
 
 "I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Greaves," he said. 
 "I had to catch a train on the most urgent business, and the 
 inare fell dose to the station. I was obliged to leave her ou the 
 chance. It was a very serious matter, or of course I should 
 never have done so." 
 
 Mr. Greaves looked as if he could not understand any business 
 which could be serious enough to make a man leave a wounded 
 horse in such a plight, and wondered how the mare could have 
 fallen. However, he went on to say that he feared she Mas 
 hopelessly injured ; would Mr. Branscombe look at her ? 
 
 So it was finally arranged that Ealpli should stop at Greaves's 
 stable on his return that afternoon. For he had quite made up 
 his mind to take Marian back to Silverstone himself, though his 
 presence was very necessary at home. He felt, however, that if 
 he sent her back with one of the women servants, there would be 
 gossip without end, they would talk all the way, and Miss Nettle- 
 rash would cross-examine both when they arrived, and form 
 her own conclusions, very unfavourable to Diana, from what she 
 would extort from them. 
 
 So in an hour, Diana being still asleep, they drove off, and 
 llalph had the extraordinary luck to lind that his aunt had gone 
 to a lecture of the Eev. jMudbury Dawson's. He declined to 
 wait for her, and having deposited Marian, who was silent and 
 thoughtful, hurried back a.t once. 
 
 When llalpli entered the stable where poor Black Swan was 
 standing in a loose box he was horrified at his favourite's 
 appearance. Tears rose in his eyes as he noticed her drooping 
 
RECOVERY. 229 
 
 head, her wounded knees, and her mangled side. To-day she 
 did not greet him with that joyous neigh which told how 
 welcome were his visits. She scarcely turned her head to see 
 who the visitor was. A long consultation with Mr. Greaves 
 followed. 
 
 " There is nothing for it," said the vet, " but to shoot her. 
 We might possibly pull her through, but she will never be fit 
 for anything better than a cab." 
 
 For a moment the awful question suggested itself to Ralph's 
 mind, whether he had not paid too high a price to get his wife 
 back. On the one hand appeared, as if by the glare of a flash 
 of lightning, all the miseries, and discomforts, and anxieties 
 Diana had caused him to suffer ; on the other, there opened up 
 a vista of years of coldness, a house without the light of love, and 
 a wife who would now be little more to him than a stranger 
 whom he had rescued from destruction. But the thought was 
 dismissed almost as rapidly as it arose. He heaved a sigh as he 
 turned out of Greaves's yard, but it was a sigh of relief. He 
 had given the best horse in the stable to get his wife back, but 
 he felt that the sacrifice was as nothing, and it was unworthy to 
 dwell for a moment on it. Still he thought of the gallop across 
 the Warborough Vale, and how the good mare had saved his 
 honour for him, and had sacrificed her life in the effort. 
 
 A surprise awaited him on his arrival at the Hall. Sir Henry 
 had asked for him several times and, according to his valet's 
 account, appeared a great deal better. Of course, Ealph was 
 anxious and nervous about the first interview with Diana after 
 the adventures of the previous night, but he did not dare to 
 postpone a visit to his uncle. When he reached the invalid's 
 chamber he was still more surprised to find Diana reading to 
 him. She looked pale but perfectly composed, and she gave her 
 hand to Ralph as he came in just as if they had parted on the 
 usual terms two hours ago. 
 
 *' I am a great deal better, Ralph," said Sir Henry, quite 
 vigorously. " I have been wanting to see you all day. I have been 
 ill a long time, but I believe that I shall be all right again soon." 
 
230 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " Indeed, I hope you will, uncle," answered Ralpli, grasping 
 the old man's weak hand, and gazing at those wasted features, 
 which were now flushed, either with fever, or with the glow of 
 returning health. Sir Henry then asked a number of questions 
 about the farm, the horses, and the neighbourhood. But he had to 
 be reminded several times that Ralph and Diana were now married, 
 for although his memory was excellent about events long passed, 
 he seemed to have none for those which immediately preceded his 
 illness. He looked strangely at Diana occasionally, and when 
 she had left the room, he stammered a question to Ealph. 
 
 "Ralph," asked he, very hesitatingly, and endeavouring to 
 collect his thoughts, '' what has become of that Colonel, that 
 Egj'ptian — no, I mean Indian officer, that used to be here so 
 much. I seem to fancy that he made love to Diana." 
 
 " He has gone for ever, uncle," replied Ralph, wincing. 
 
 *' Gone, has he? " asked the old man. '""Well, v.ell, all the 
 better. He never could ride Black Swan, the fellow had no 
 hands, though his seat ■was good enough. How is Black Sw'an ? 
 The best mare I ever rode in my life. All right, I hope? I 
 shall go round to the stables to-morrow, Ralph, and have a look 
 at them all. Tell me about the mare." 
 
 In the midst of his grief over the black mare's fate Ralph 
 had never for a moment dreamt that he would be called to ac- 
 count for it by his uncle. He replied, blushing : 
 
 " I have had a very bad accident with Black Swan, Sir." 
 
 "What, with hounds ? " asked the baronet. 
 
 "Yes, Sir," stammered Ralph. ""We fell over a post and 
 rails, and the mare has had to be shot." 
 
 " Oh dear, oh dear," sighed the old man. " That is the one 
 liorsc I was anxious to ride again, and you must needs go and 
 break her back for her. How could you be such a fool, Ralph ? 
 I thought you were too good a rider to gallop at impossible 
 places. No doubt you went too fast, and very likely the mare 
 was done." And the old gentleman sobbed like a child over her 
 fate. But fortunately his weak memory did not allow him to 
 dwell very long on his loss. Ralph had the happy inspiration 
 
REOOVEllY. 231 
 
 to tell liini that ]^oterl)orougli was very well, upon which Sir 
 Henry immediately looked up chuckling, and said : 
 
 " Peterborough, ah Peterborough, is all right, is he ? That 
 is the horse you fancied you had in your stable once, eh, 
 Ralph? " he laughed. " Wanted to make out that Boulter did 
 me ? No, my boy, no. I know a horse when I see one. You 
 could not aflbrd to buy a horse like that, when I used to pay 
 your debts once every six months. Very comfortable safe con- 
 veyance, Peterborough. Yes, I think I'll ride Peterborough to 
 hounds. Where do they meet to-morrow ? " 
 
 Ralph was aghast. Hero was this old gentleman, who had 
 for six months been confined to his room, and whose brain was 
 seriously affected, talking of riding to hounds. The more Pialpli 
 recommended caution and a little patience before attempting 
 j-.'uch a feat the more obstinate Sir Henry became, until at last, 
 giving it up in despair, our hero took the opportunity of the 
 valet's bringing in the old gentleman's dinner to make a bolt of it 
 and consult Diana, who appeared in the drawing-room as usual. 
 She had never had much colour, but she was now almost ghastly 
 in her pallor. The extreme difficulty of the first few moments 
 was got over by Ralph at once plunging into the subject at that 
 moment nearest his thoughts. Diana could scarcely believe him 
 when he explained Sir Henry's intentions. Old Dr. Quayie was 
 at once summoned, late as it was, and on his advice Diana went 
 to her uncle's room to attempt to soothe him by reading and to 
 divert his thoughts. The subject was not again mentioned by 
 the invalid. Sir Henry directed a telegram to be sent to Mr. 
 Throgmorton Toms, requiring his presence as soon as possible. 
 
 " There are a number of City things," Sir Henry said next 
 morning to Ralph, "which you do not know anything about, 
 my boy, and it is no use talking about them with you. I must 
 see Toms," For next morning Sir Henry, far from being 
 worse, seemed a great deal better. Ho dressed carefully towards 
 eleven o'clock, and insisted upon donning an old pair of breeches. 
 Clad in these and drab gaiters he took his nephew's arm, and 
 with a big stick in his right hand toddled downstairs and into 
 
232 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 the stable-yard. Of course be Avalked as a man walks who has 
 not been out of bis room for many montlis, but still there was 
 an enormous improvement, and every quarter of an hour in the 
 fresh air seemed to do him good. His mind Avaiidered every 
 now and then, and he still occasionally forgot that his nephew 
 and niece were now married. On the whole, however, he seemed 
 fairly alive to what Avas going on, and evinced as much know- 
 ledge of horses and as great a comi^rehension of their wants 
 as in his best days. In the course of the day Sir Davenport 
 Harley and ]\Ir. Toms arrived from London. The former was 
 amazed at his patient's apparent recovery. 
 
 " The brain," said he, "does sometimes wake up again after 
 having been dormant for a prolonged period, but such awaken- 
 ings are not to be trusted. Sir Henry appears to be in very 
 excellent physical health. You must, however, be very careful, 
 as his brain power may give way at any moment, and then 
 though his body may be perfectly strong he will not be able to 
 control it." Sir Davenport saw every advantage in bodily exer- 
 cise in the fresh air, though of course he decidedly objected to 
 hunting. "But," he added, in conclusion, "do not contradict 
 the old gentleman if you possibly can help it. Divert his 
 thoughts when they dwell on a scheme that cannot be realised, 
 but do not refuse point blank to please him." 
 
 So the neighbourhood was surprised and gratilied at seeing 
 Sir Henry a few days afterwards jog along the lanes on his quiet 
 Peterborough, with Ralph on one side of him and Diana on the 
 other. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A NEW FIRM. 
 
 r^\ 
 
 ARIAN was very reticent about 
 her stay at the Hall, but she 
 Avoulcl probably not have been 
 able to withstand Miss Janet's 
 oross-questiouing if that lady 
 had made up her mind to 
 find out all the circumstances. 
 The elderly maiden was very 
 pertinacious and very curious 
 about her relative's affairs. 
 No evasive answers satisfied 
 her ; and when she deter- 
 mined, as she said, "to get to the bottom of a thing," she 
 generally succeeded. After all, the art is not so very difficult. 
 All that is required is an entire absence of false shame, 
 and i\Iiss Nettlerash certainly possessed none. She was not 
 to be put off by any fear of appearing indiscreet, nor did 
 she stop to consider other people's feelings. Tact was a 
 quality which no explanation would ever make her even under- 
 stand. When she had once fastened on to a victim the 
 unfortunate person might fence and writhe, but could not 
 hope to escape Miss Janet's clutches. White lies were of 
 no avail, for she boasted an excellent memory, and mercilessly 
 exposed any little venial falsehood without the slightest regard 
 to time, or place, or the presence of others. Marian was, as a 
 rule, far less troubled by Miss Janet's questions than other 
 people, for the girl had nothing to conceal, and her life was 
 spent under the very eyes of the old lady. So Marian was 
 almost the only person who was not afraid of her. The Rev. 
 George was always frightened out of his wits v. hen his sicter-in- 
 
234 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 law came to the Rectory, uud kept out of her way as much as he 
 could ; it \Yas, indeed, one of her grievances that her sister's 
 husband hardly ever paid her a visit. When, by some extra- 
 ordinary chance, Mr. Branscombe called ht Silverstone, he was on 
 pins and needles till he got away again, for if there was any 
 delicate matter in the parish, or a disagreeable story among 
 their mutual friends, which the Eector was anxious not to 
 mention, Miss Xettlerash was sure to discover, as it were 
 intuitively, that there was something to conceal, and would not 
 rest nor let her friend go until she had wormed it out somehow. 
 As to the Rector's wife, she was fairly able to hold her own with 
 her sister, though she succeeded only at the cost of being 
 extremely rude and rousing Miss Janet's anger. Nor was the 
 assistance of her nieces disclaimed when the inquisitive lady 
 wanted to find out anything, and her curiosity knew no bounds. 
 The girls had to tell their aunt what they had for dinner, tea, 
 and breakfast, where they walked, what friends they saw, and 
 what frocks they possessed. In their innocent prattle they 
 occasionally alluded to matters which Miss Nettlerash would 
 take up and worry about until she had made a mountain out 
 of a mole-hill. Nothing was unimportant in her eyes, and 
 her sister's weekly bills were no more sacred from her investiga- 
 tions than the Rector's small charities, or the proceedings at 
 the Sunday school. Some years previously, when the Rev. 
 Geor"-e Branscombe had been in great pecuniary straits, one of 
 the girls had unfortunately let out "that it was only that tire- 
 some butcher calling for his money," during Miss Ncttlerash's 
 visit to the Rectory. On that clue she worked indefatigably for 
 weeks until all her sister's troubles and Mr. Branscombe's 
 weakness were exposed. She was never tired of alluding to 
 these events, and henceforward Avatched her nieces' dress, and 
 her brother-in-law's expenditure, with the eyes of a lynx, not 
 forgetting to charge her sister with reckless extravagance if 
 Selina wore a new frock or if Mrs. Branscombe had a small tea- 
 party. Luckily for himself and his family, the Reverend George 
 had had the courage never to ask his sister-in-law for assistance; 
 
A NEW Fir.IvJ. 2ob 
 
 lintl bo clone so, she mij^'lit, grudgingly enough, have lent him a 
 low pounds, but she would certainly have installed herself 
 permanently at the Ilectory as a sort of receiver or manager in 
 bankruptcy. 
 
 When Miss Nettlerash paid visits to her friends they were 
 never very short ones. She camo for a good talk, and generally 
 invited herself to remain to luncheon or tea, or whatever the 
 meal was. Invariably she first asked for a room in which to 
 change her boots, and very often her inner pocket produced a 
 pair of stockings as well. When this operation was completed, 
 she would appear in the drawing-room without her cloak, but 
 still wearing one ot those bonnets which were a snare to small 
 liirds and the delight of the more mischievous of her juvenile 
 friends. And she never failed to say, "I have not brought a 
 cap, so you must not mind my sitting in my bonnet." A pound 
 and a half of grapes, sundry apples, a bunch of cherries, a few 
 ears of corn, and some very green leaves which looked like 
 spinach were therefore nodding and rustling all the afternoon as 
 a constant accompaniment to Miss Nettlerash's tongue. This 
 careful lady was particularly careful about her gloves. She wore 
 black ones from motives of economy, and asserted that nothing 
 was so foolish as a tight fit, numbing the hands and wearing out 
 at the finger-tips. Her own number was therefore eight and a 
 quarter, and when she called anywhere for one of her little visits 
 she slowly drew her gloves off, smoothed them out carefully, flat- 
 tened them out, folded one over the other, and wrapped them up 
 in a piece of silver paper which was produced from her cornucopia, 
 her inner pocket. But of course the gloves were not pocketed. 
 Such an operation might have injured their gloss. Nothing was 
 more distasteful to her about Ealpli than bis habit of turning 
 one "glove inside the other, and laying the pair down anywhere 
 handy. It was almost as bad, she thought, as his addiction to 
 tobacco. ]Miss Nettlerash placed the long, smooth packet of 
 silver paper on the drawing-room table, and had ever a watchful 
 eye on it during her visits. When very intimate anywhere she 
 would occasionally produce a thimble, needle, and black silk, 
 
236 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 and mcud the tiniest holes. And at home she would spend a 
 few minutes blackening the seams or the finger-tips with a 
 camel' s-hair brush and some Indian ink. 
 
 Now, Silverstone was some distance from town, and Miss 
 Nettlerash did not like railways. She, therefore, drove the two 
 greys in, did her shopping, and then called upon some friend 
 while Bingham and his horses were resting and eating. But 
 of late years some of her friends had moved out of town, others 
 had proved ungrateful and ungracious. Whether the bonnet, or 
 the gloves, or the sharp tongue had wearied them, may remain 
 doubtful ; at any rate, ]\Iiss Nettlerash more than once found 
 that she could not obtain luncheon and two hours' gossip at the 
 houses where she expected to find both. " Not at home," was 
 insufficient to deter the enterprising lady. If that answer was 
 given to her inquiries she would often say, " I will wait for 
 your mistress in the drawing-room," and would iustal herself 
 there until its owner came home, or, which was more frequent, 
 descended from the upper stories. And she even went so far as 
 to ring and ask for tea or cold meat. It was this last audacity 
 which closed many doors to her. Some of her friends gave 
 orders that Miss Nettlerash was on no account to be admitted, 
 and invented idle tales to keep her off ; for instance, scarlatina 
 was alleged, or the departure of the family for Italy. Of course 
 ^liss Janet ultimately found them out, and their characters suffered 
 fearfully. No crime was too bad for them, and in some cases, 
 serious scandals had resulted. But the upshot was that ]Miss 
 Nettlerash lost most of her houses of call in London. Com- 
 plaining bitterly of her fate to the Eev. C. T. ]Mudbury Dawson, 
 that gentleman suggested that she should join the jNIiddlesex 
 Club, a most respectable institution for both sexes, situated in 
 Yerulam Street, Mayf'air. At first. Miss Janet had been shocked, 
 believing, like many other old maiden ladies, that club is another 
 name for debauchery. But when the reverend gentleman, who 
 was anxious to belong to the institution himself, and thought 
 that Miss Nettlerash might as well pay his entrance fees, pointed 
 out to her that a Bishop was chairman, and that sundry clergy- 
 
A NEW FIRM. 237 
 
 men and ladies of undoubted age and advanced respectability 
 were on the committee, she began to look at the matter in a 
 different light. Then Mr. Dawson explained how she would 
 be perfectly indej)endent of her false friends, could change her 
 boots there without inconvenience, could stop in the place as long 
 as she pleased, and have her carriage to fetch her at any hour, and 
 might, besides, have her parcels sent to the Club by her trades- 
 men, she agreed to join the establishment. Her name was pro- 
 posed by the Eight Rev. Chairman, and seconded by a lady 
 distinguished for her talents in propagating small-pox, and soon 
 ^liss Nettlerash talked as glibly of her Club as any. youth about 
 town. Xor was it long before she proposed both her lecturing 
 friends, and gave them a very convenient place whence to date 
 their letters and circulars. 
 
 It has already been mentioned that when INIarian returned to 
 Silverstone under Ealph's escort, Miss Nettlerash was attendino- 
 one of her favourite's discourses. This amusement was, how- 
 ever, no longer a novelty, and would not have deterred her from 
 questioning the girl as to everything at the Hall if she had not 
 found a letter awaiting her with the Middlesex Club initials 
 which at once took her entire attention. 
 
 " Shameful ! " she exclaimed, when she had read it, and, for 
 want of another confidante, she tossed it over to Marian. 
 " What abominable rudeness ! I shall take my name off 
 though the Club is very convenient sometimes. But that conceited 
 secretary has no notion of civility to a lady ! " 
 
 The letter was as follows : — 
 
 "Middlesex Club, Verulam Street, W. 
 " Madam, f>e<'. I7tli, IS— . 
 
 " The attention of the committee having been called to the 
 circumstance that the hall-porter's box is often almost filled 
 with parcels addressed to you, among which are such articles as 
 game and butcher's meat, which, now the weather has become 
 milder, attract large numbers of flies, I am directed to request 
 you to be good enough not to order meat or other perishable 
 
23S FAIR DIANA. 
 
 articles to be sent to the Club, and to reiTuco the number of 
 parcels addressed to you to more reasonable limits. 
 
 •' I have the honour to be, ?J;ulani, yours obediently, 
 
 **T. H. Wklls, 
 " To Miss Xettlerash. Silvekstone. Scm-tdrii."' 
 
 *' Ptcasonablc limits, indeed!" exclaimed Miss Nettlerash. 
 ** What is a Club for, I should like to know, but the convenience 
 of its members ? Did you ever hear of such impertinence ? " 
 
 " Well, aunt dear," ^Marian ventured timidly to suggest, 
 "you know you do have a good many parcels sent there." 
 
 " Not a great many. Besides, I have a right to do so. I 
 don't pay eight pounds a-year to drink a few cups of tea in the 
 Club. I could get my tea anyv.iiere else just as well, and not 
 pay more for it. It's for the convenience of the thing. I shan't 
 pay sixpence or eightpence on every parcel to please iMr. Wells. 
 At that rate I might as well buy my things at Silverstonc ! " 
 
 "Perhaps you might, aunt," Marian replied. 
 
 " What do you know about it, you little goose ?" asked Miss 
 Nettlerash, angrily. " Why, I have left the Silverstone trades- 
 men long ago. I buy things at the Stores now, and get some- 
 thing for my money, though the Stores are not what they used 
 to be. But at any rate I get the right weight, and have not to 
 pay twice as much as the things are worth." 
 
 " Could you not have the parcels sent down by post?" asked 
 Marian. 
 
 " Post ! ridiculous. They vrould cost more than ever, and 
 they would never get here in time. "What is the use of keeping 
 a carriage and two horses if I can't turn thom to some account ? 
 I shall write and tell that jackanapes what I tlunk of him. 
 Flies, indeed ! flies in the middle of winter. I suppose that fool 
 of a hall-porter does not like the trouble of taldng the parcels in. 
 But I'll show them that I won't be insulted." 
 
 "If you please, miss," said the parlourmaid, entering the 
 room, "the coachman would like to sec you." 
 
 " Go and ask what Bingham wants," said Miss Nettlerash to 
 
A NEW FIKM. 239 
 
 Mjirian ; " I hope one of the horses is not lame. They always 
 do go lame when I want them particularly." 
 
 Marian thought that Ijingham had come ahout the pony's 
 absence, and readily obeyed. The old man touched his forelock 
 with a proper show of respect, and Marian at once told him that 
 Bendigo was safe at Branscombe Hall and would be sent over the 
 next day. But Bingham's thoughts were far from the pony. 
 He was never very anxious about his horses, except in so far as 
 he could make money by them. More important matters were 
 now troubling him. Pialph's interference had robbed him of a 
 good portion of his perquisites, and Miss Janet's adhesion to 
 co-operative principles had largely diminished the remainder. 
 The little that was left was now also threatened, for Miss Nettle- 
 rash had that morning informed him that she had made arrange- 
 ments to have her horses supplied with hay and corn by a 
 London corn-chandler at so much per horse per week. Even 
 then there might be something to be saved on their food, and 
 the case would not have been entirely hopeless, but when he 
 received orders to drive into town with the carriage and fetch 
 parcels from the Middlesex Club the coachman felt that this was 
 the last straw. He was not going to demean himself to be a 
 common carrier. It was bad enough to start in the morning and 
 drive jMiss Nettlcrash about London all day, returning to Silver- 
 stone late in the afternoon, wet, dirty, and weary. But at any 
 rate these long excursions were sweetened by the fact that he 
 charged seven shillings for his dinner and putting up the horses, 
 while he only spent half the amount. Latel}' he had had to fetch 
 a carriage load of parcels several times a week, and had hoped 
 against hope that the system would not continue. Now, however, 
 that he sav/ that Miss Nettlerash intended to make a practice of 
 it, he could stand it no longer. What with driving into tov»-n, 
 attending to the horses, washing the carriage, and saddling 
 Bendigo, he would have no rest at all. And the loss of dignity 
 was awful. The carriage was not a carrier's cart, and Bingham 
 determined that it should not be used like one. It was 
 degrading, it spoilt the cushions, it looked disgusting. To some 
 
240 FAIR DIAJfA. 
 
 extent Bingham had a fair ease. Instead of making a hundred 
 a year net profit over and above his wages he could now only 
 earn twenty hy ver\- hard work and very careful cheating. And 
 the collection of articles Miss Nettlerash was in the habit of 
 ordering was certainly rather extensive. On his last journey he 
 had had to bring a huge parcel of groceries, some gloves and 
 hosiery, a sirloin of beef, seven pounds of " soup meat," half-a- 
 dozen bottles of sherry ("• a fine nutty wine at 30.'^.'"), a brace of 
 grouse in a very advanced state of maturity, ten books from the 
 circulating library, a pair of boots, and a small gas stove which 
 Miss Nettlerash had sent to London to be mended. 
 
 So Bingham requested to see his mistress. What he had to 
 say was for her ear only. 
 
 " AMiat is the matter, Bingham ? " asked Miss Janet, sharply, 
 for she was very sore about the letter from the Club and 
 suspicious of new trouble. 
 
 " If you please, miss," answered the man, "I should like 
 to leave this day month, miss." 
 
 " Why ? what is wrong, I3ingham ? " 
 
 " There ain't nothing particularly wrong as I knows on, miss, 
 but I should like to leave." 
 
 "Why, you have been with me seven years, Bingham." 
 
 " Yes, miss, and I hope I've given you satisfaction," replied 
 the coachman, again touching his forelock. 
 
 "And why do 30U want to go, Bingham? Are you not 
 comfortable ? " 
 
 " Thank ye, miss," continued the coachman, " I'm pretty com- 
 fortable, but I"m getting old, you see, miss, and I can't stand 
 the work. It's drive, drive to town near every day ; and then 
 what with groomiu' the 'osses, and Miss Marian's pony, and clean- 
 ing up and washing the carriage, I feel as I can't do my dooty. 
 And I won't stop where I feel I ain't doing my dooty, miss. 
 * Sez I to myself, you ain't keepin' the carriage and 'osses as they 
 ought to be kept, for a lady like yourn.' So I'd better go, miss." 
 
 "Honest man!" thought Miss Nettlerash. "He is not so 
 strong as he was, and I have overworked him. Well," she con- 
 
B 
 a 
 
 c 
 
A NEW FIRM. 241 
 
 tiuucd aloud, '' wc can manage that, Bingham. We will get a 
 lad to help you. It will not bo very expensive, and it will ease 
 your mind." 
 
 The honest coachman thought it over for a minute. Should 
 he accept this offer ? He would have no work except the driving, 
 for of course the stable lad should do all the grooming and 
 cleaning. But to drive in and out of town almost every day 
 during the long winter was not a pleasant prospect. Besides, he 
 had saved more than a thousand pounds, all snugly invested. If 
 he was ever to make a start in life it must be now. He was 
 getting on in years, and did not wish to remain a servant all his 
 life. Handsome Jack was ready to enter into partnership with him. 
 
 " Thank ye kindly, miss," he at last replied. " The fact is, 
 miss, there's a friend of mine ready to help me with money to 
 keep a little place of my own, livery and sich like. It won't be 
 such hard work, and I'm getting old for service. I've always 
 been honest, and I ain't a-going to change now. I'll tell you the 
 truth at once. I've saved near a hundred pounds, thanks to you, 
 miss ; and my pardner, he's got summat of his own, so we thinks 
 of keeping a few 'osses. No offence, miss, I 'oj^e." 
 
 "None at all, Bingham," answered Miss Nettlerash, still much 
 upset, but now seeing that she could not alter the man's deter- 
 mination. " I hope you will get on well." 
 
 " Indeed I 'ope so, miss, and I 'ope you will give me your 
 patronage, and recommend me to your friends. I've done my 
 best for you, miss, and I'm sorry to leave you." And the old 
 hypocrite stuffed his fist into his eye, as if to brush away a tear. 
 
 Miss Janet w'as much moved. He had, she thought, been a 
 faithful servant to her. So, though much exercised in her mind 
 about a change of coachman, she accepted the situation, and 
 presented Bingham with ten pounds over and above his Avages. 
 Ralph was at once written to, and before the month was over he 
 found a man for her. But he did not dare to congratulate his 
 aunt on Bingham's departure, for her letter was so full of praises, 
 so enthusiastic on the coachman's merits, that he felt it would be 
 useless to endeavour to undeceive her. So with the new year 
 
 B 
 
242 FAIll UIAXA. 
 
 there appeared over the entrance to a mows out of Wimpole 
 Street a large blue board bearing an inscri])tion in bright gold. 
 letters : 
 
 BINGHAM AND ROBINSON. 
 
 ^ibcvti nab (Comimssioit <StiibU'5, 
 HORSES BOUGHT AXD SOLD. CARRIAGES SURPLIED, 
 
 SELECTED SOUND HUNTERS AND MATCH HORSES. 
 RIDING LESSONS. 
 
 and Miss Nettlerash sent the new firm's circulars all over the 
 country and recommended honest Bingham to everybody. 
 
 This mode of advertising the new firm, though very useful, 
 was not the only one adopted by the enterprising partners. 
 Tlie second page of the Times was henceforward regularly 
 occupied bj" a few lines inserted by the wily Bingham or his 
 handsome associate, nor were other papers without occasional 
 support from them. There was, of course, the standing and 
 regular professional advertisement, which conveyed the same 
 information as their sign, only somewhat amplified ; under 
 this would often appear another, by which " Noblemen and 
 Gentlemen " wishing to dispose of really first-class horses, 
 were requested to write (in confidence) to Bingham and 
 Eobinson, who were always ready to give a good price for 
 thoroughly sound and young horses. These two advertise- 
 ments, taken together, largely helped trade ; for people on 
 the look out for horses could hardl}' read the first without 
 noticing the second, and the conclusion many amved at 
 was, that since Bingham and Robinson announced them- 
 selves as ready to buy only first-class animals, they would 
 have nothing but first-class animals to sell : for of course 
 they could not sell what they had not got ! Therefore, a 
 good many persons, who fancied they knew something, and 
 entertained a gi-eat fear of copers, ventured into the mews 
 with less timidity than if they had had ocular proof of Jiow 
 particular the firm was in its purchases. But the intelligent 
 reader need scarcely be informed that Bingham and Robinson 
 
A NEW FIRM. 243 
 
 were not quite the people to pay a Iiigli price for a good horse. 
 Their first principle was to get a good horse for very little 
 mone^y ; so far, there was nothing to which the most scru- 
 pulous could ohject. Their next principle was, if the good 
 horse could not he bought for a trifle, to buy a had one for 
 less money still, and to make him look like a good one. 
 
 When letters came from "Noblemen and Gentlemen" 
 anxious to dispose of their steeds, one of the pair always at 
 once went to look at the horses offered. A deal rarely 
 ensued, but neither of them omitted to examine the animals 
 closely, and as they both had excellent memories for the 
 points of a horse, the}^ were able to " spot " those they had 
 once seen almost at any future time. This knowledge was 
 invaluable to them at inferior auction sales, or when dealing 
 with one of their colleagues in the coping line, and occa- 
 sionally the}' really succeeded in picking up an excellent 
 bargain by thus keeping an " eye " on a horse. 
 
 A good understanding with some of the stud-grooms in 
 large establishments was another important element in their 
 business, and one by no means very easy to obtain success- 
 fully. Gentlemen of the calibre of the great Boulter are 
 not easily handled by any one of less importance than a 
 swell horse-dealer like Bedford. They are afraid of the 
 small fry, because they do not want to lose their lucrative 
 places. Nor did Bingham and Robinson ever try to " stick " 
 such important persons with worthless horses. They either 
 tried to sell a fairty good horse at an exorbitant price (subject, 
 of course, to a heavy commission), or to obtain a still better 
 one out of the great man's stable for a mere song. Bingham 
 having moved in what his partner called " good society," 
 often restrained his less cultivated associate when the latter 
 thought he had got hold of an unresistmg victim. "Don't 
 let us spoil our reputation, Joe, whatever we do," was his 
 favourite advice. " These things gets about. If you sell 
 that young gent the old s])avined chestnut for a sound five- 
 year old, he's sure to tell his pals at the Club that he's been 
 
 K 2 
 
244 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 (lone, and who's clone him. Let him have the bay mare ; 
 she'll carry him well enough. Never mind if we don't make 
 quite so much over it ; he'll bring his friends along our way." 
 
 But when occasion offered, Bingham was as ready for n 
 cope as Handsome Joe. They occasionally arranged for stalls 
 at sundry places in various parts of London, and Bingham 
 could personate an elderly squire or a country j^arson to per- 
 fection, while Joe took the role of gi'oom. No third person 
 was ever admitted to these transactions, and the stalls were 
 taken hy the week or even by tlie daj- under assumed names •. 
 generall}- from coachmen w'hose masters were out of town, 
 or who knew that their masters would not look into the 
 stables ver}- often. Such men were glad to make an honest 
 penny, and in such places the w^orst of the quadrupeds pur- 
 chased by the new firm were shown as '' magnificent barouche 
 horses," " tried hunters," or " charming ladies' hacks." 
 When an animal was sold to an unwary stranger, Bing- 
 ham and Bobinson disappeared, and the victims were not 
 inclined to waste money and time in trying to find tliem. 
 Thus the firm grew and prospered in a comparatively shoi-t 
 time, and within a couple of years of Diana's flight and return, 
 Mr. Bingham seriously thought of presenting himself as a 
 candidate for the Marylebone Vestr}'. 
 
 ^ii/l/i-h 
 
 '«// 'i/. ^^'i^U/'fV^lp^'^t' 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE LAST RUN. 
 
 EANWHILE 
 
 the position of 
 afiairs between 
 Ralph and his 
 wife had by 
 no means im- 
 proved. Ill 
 the first few 
 
 days of Sir Henry's convalescence they had both been so busily 
 en<faged in the common object of ministering to his wants, divert- 
 ing his thoughts, and generally amusing him, that they had scarcely 
 time to think of their own troubles, and Mr. Toms's visit, 
 during which he was, notwithstanding both Ralph's and Diana's 
 objection, closeted sometimes with Sir Henry, had given them 
 another common object in their now mutual dislike to the little 
 City financier. But when Mr. Toms had departed, when Sir 
 Henry again began to take matters into his own hands and to 
 talk to the farmers himself, when he toddled down to the stables 
 daily and took his daily ride, not indeed as he had done before, 
 but still without appearing to be a hopeless invalid, then neither 
 of them had much else to engage their thoughts, and they 
 naturally began to dwell on their troubles. 
 
 It must not be supposed that Diana's heart went out again 
 towards Colonel Mannering. Her idol had been rudely but 
 completely shattered that night. It could never again be placed 
 on its pedestal. The real strength of Ralph's affection for her, 
 his loving-kindness, his courage, his coolness and readiness of 
 resource had all become apparent to her in that short hour, and 
 
246 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 she wondered that slie bad never appreciated them before. Bitter 
 were the tears she shed on her soHtary pillow in the long winter 
 nights, and cruel were the pangs of remorse that gnawed at her 
 heart. In those wakeful hours there came back to her Ralph's 
 many acts of gentleness and love, the patience with which he had 
 borne her changeable temper during their journey on the conti- 
 nent, the trust he had reposed in her when in town, and the faith 
 with which he had accepted her explanations of her meetings 
 with Colonel Mannering. Every word she heard from the 
 tenants and their wives and children, every remark from the 
 servants, every conversation with her neighbours only served to 
 show her how utterly blind she had been to Ralph's good qualities. 
 No one had a bad word for Ralph. He was popular among 
 gentry, yeomen, and peasantry alike. The little children ran out 
 of the cottages when he passed, sure of a kind word if not of a 
 " sweetie." The mothers smiled as they curtseyed to him, the 
 men lifted their hats and many of them stretched out their hands, 
 knowing that Ralph was not ashamed to grasp the roughest fist. 
 In the night watches every little event and trifling circumstance 
 came back to Diana, and she felt the anguish of having possessed 
 this man's love and having spurned it ; the bitterness and the 
 shame of having possessed this man's trust and having abused 
 it. How willingly, if he had then appeared at her side, would 
 she have thrown herself at his feet and implored his forgiveness, 
 even though he might never love her again — of course he could 
 never love her again. In such moments she felt it would be a 
 consolation to tell him how some fiend had stricken her M'itli 
 blindness and made her as foolish as she was false. But when 
 daylight appeared she could not muster courage to open her 
 heart on this dreadful subject. She did her duty as well as she 
 could and Vv'cnt about the house with a pale face and weary steps. 
 She tried to please Ralph in all the arrangements she made for 
 the household, and thought only of his convenience and that of 
 Sir Henry. But she could not look in his eyes to search for that 
 love Avhich she used to find there when she did not want it. 
 There seemed to be a steel plate round her heart which pre- 
 
THE LAST EUN. 247 
 
 vented its expanding and forced her to restrain herself whenever 
 her grief appeared too much for her to bear. 
 
 On the other hand, Ealph had reason enough for never alhiding 
 to the circumstances of that night nor of their early married life. 
 He was far too careful for his wife's feelings to wish to remind 
 her of the dreadful events which had occurred, far too full of 
 tact to touch strings which might jar unpleasantly on her delicate 
 organization. Ho knew that she was sorry for what she had 
 clone, and he felt convinced, illogical as the conviction might 
 appear, that she could be trusted implicitly in future. He was 
 perfectly satisfied that Colonel Mannering had now no chance 
 whatever of being listened to, and that he would be treated with 
 scorn if he ventured to show himself again. This much he fully 
 believed, but no more. He could not suppose that the love 
 which Colonel Mannering had lost would ever be bestoAved on 
 another, least of all on himself. He felt that there was an 
 impassable gulf between them. She had had the misfortune to 
 be fascinated by a man totally nnv,'orthy of her, and had com- 
 mitted the sin of marrying Ralph notwithstanding her passion 
 for Mannering. But Ealph pleaded for her in his heart, knowing 
 that she had only given her consent under pressure from all 
 sides, and that she had warned him of the possible conse- 
 quences. He felt therefore that she had been as much sinned 
 against as sinning. He himself had wronged her by insisting 
 upon marrying her, although he knew that she was fond of 
 Colonel Mannering. He had further wronged her by exposing 
 her to the Colonel's attentions after they were married. He 
 ought to have put his foot doAAOi and stopped all intimacy 
 from the beginning. He might have thus avoided the baneful 
 results. 
 
 " I reckoned too much on my own powers," thought rmlph. 
 *' I was too conceited. I fancied that once married I should be 
 uble to drive this man's image from her heart and take its place. 
 My vanity was overweening, my punishment has been great. 
 Why should I suppose that I could make her love me better than 
 that good-looking scoundrel '? What has happened serves me 
 
248 FAIR DIANA, 
 
 right. I can never expect bor to be any more to me tban sbe is 
 now — a kind, attentive and gentle lady, looking after my bouse 
 and receiving my friends. I bave no rigbt to blame ber for Avbat 
 bas happened. " 
 
 And he was careful never to drop a hint nor a word which 
 would possibly convey the slightest reproach, never to say any- 
 thing which could by any means suggest that sbe had not 
 behaved as a true, good wife. He was quiet and gentle in speak- 
 ing to her, but seemed to assume as a matter of course that they 
 could never be on nearer terms than those of cordial friendship. 
 His nights were not sleepless like hers ; for, as has been observed, 
 he was a man of action rather than thought, and subjectivity was 
 hateful to him. Yet even his sleep was often interrupted by 
 sudden awakenings out of dreams — dreams of what might have 
 been ; or of struggles in railway carriages, or steeplechases over 
 rough ground. And neither he nor Diana foresaw any end to 
 this estrangement and this tension. 
 
 After some persuasion from Ralph, Diana was at last induced 
 to resume her riding habit and to appear once again with hounds. 
 She had refused obstinately, until one morning, when they were 
 alone, Ralph ventured to remark : 
 
 *' Diana, I think it would be better for you to bunt, particu- 
 larly on account of your neighbours. They remember bow you 
 used to ride in old times." 
 
 In this Diana saw an allusion to her gallops with Colonel 
 Mannering, and a hint that her escapade had become known, 
 been whispered, talked about. That was quite enough. She at 
 once declared herself ready to go out on the first day that hounds 
 were handy, and only an opportune frost prevented Sir Henry 
 Branscombe risking his neck still sooner. This frost was the 
 most potent auxiliary that Sir Davenport Harley could have 
 obtained. Nothing else w^ould bave prevented Sir Henry from 
 foing to the meet "just to see them throw off," as he said. But 
 they all knew that if once he went to the meet he would be sure 
 to follow. The frost, however, gave him a fortnight longer to 
 recover, and during that fortnight be gained strength amazingly. 
 
THE LAST RUN. 249 
 
 The physician was in so far right that the strength \vas hodily 
 rather than mentaL He couhl not remember recent events, and 
 was constantly obhged to refer to Ralph on the most trivial 
 matters. But his appetite was excellent, and he began to regain 
 his slight portliness of figure. 
 
 But when the frost disappeared it became hopeless to keep the 
 old gentleman from the hounds, and at last both Ralph and 
 Diana had to admit that opposition would do him more harm 
 than the gratification of his wish under proper precautions. Any 
 contradiction threw him into paroxysms of passion, which alarmed 
 them the more that in former times he had never exhibited any 
 violent temper, and the only thing which used to move him was 
 the mention of the Holborn Vale hounds. So when hounds were 
 announced for Mersham Cross Roads — only five miles oft" — it was 
 decided in council that Sir Henry should go. In any case it 
 would have been difficult to prevent his doing so. For unless he 
 was officially examined and found a lunatic, nobody had a right 
 to prevent his ordering his ov.n household, and deciding on his 
 own movements. And he had practically resumed charge of his 
 affairs, though he left the estate very much to Ralph. He often 
 sent for Mr. Toms, and closeted himself with that gentleman 
 for hours, exhibiting peevishness and temper if Ralph entered 
 the room or made an inquiry into business matters. Yet all the 
 time every one felt that the old baronet was quite unable to 
 manage anything, and though Mr. Toms always declared that 
 he was as acute as ever, no one believed that Mr. Toms thought 
 so. Sir Henry never signed any cheques. The money required 
 was handed to Ralph by Mr. Toms, so that in fact the young 
 man had less control of money than ever. But the little financier 
 had, it appears, given up the idea of interfering in the house and 
 the stable. In the former Diana, in the latter Ralph, could do 
 exactly as they pleased, though they felt much humiliated and 
 annoyed at the tone adopted by Toms when he sent or handed 
 them the sums for their weekly requirements. 
 
 It was a mild, muggy morning when they rode over to Mersham 
 Cross Roads. Sir Henry declined the dog-cart, and started as usual 
 
250 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 on Peterborougli, wliom he intended to hunt. As an additional 
 precaution Ealph had mounted the stud groom on his own old 
 Peahody, who -svas as good as gold when he was not allowed to 
 eat his fill and do nothing. Thus there would he a quiet second 
 horse handy in case of accident. Ralph rode a j'oung chestnut — 
 a horse Sir Henry had purchased on Boulter's recommendation 
 about a year before — a powerful and sho^^■y animal, with high 
 action, but one which seemed better adapted for a strong man 
 under forty than for an old gentleman. Diana, of course, rode 
 her own " Pet." It was the first time that she had appeared in the 
 field this season, and though apparently as calm as ever, she 
 was nervous as to her reception. She did not guess what elabo- 
 rate precautions Pialph had taken to avoid the faintest breath of 
 scandal, nor did she imagine that even her own servants had 
 been entirely satisfied by his version of the midnight journey. 
 She thought that they all suspected her ; she fixncied that they 
 regarded her with diflerent eyes since that fatal night. Their 
 demeanour might apparently be as respectful as ever, but in 
 their hearts she thought they despised her. To so proud a 
 woman as Diana the thought of being despised, or even suspected, 
 by mere servants, was constant torture : a torture, too, she could 
 confide to no one, least of all to Ralph. 
 
 When the master raised his hat, ai,.l greeted her with a frank 
 expression of pleasure at seeing her out again, she fancied that 
 she detected in his words some hidden allusion to the cause of 
 her not having been out before ; when the Hon. Seaton Delaval 
 shook hands, and asked her wdiether she had been hunting else- 
 where, she imagined that he must be hinting at her having been 
 meeting Colonel Mannering ; and even the respectful words of the 
 more distant farmers grated on her as if they implied a reproach 
 for her previous conduct. Of course Saintsbury Snufihox was at 
 the Cross Roads, and equally of course he put his foot into it as 
 much as he could. To Sir Henry he said, as if it had been the 
 most cheering remark possible : 
 
 " Well, Sir Henry, who'd have thought to sec you out again ! 
 I'm sure when me and Mr. Fitzurse rode over to sec Mr. Ralph, 
 
THE LAST HUN. 251 
 
 two montlis ago, we never thought you'd leave the 'All again, 
 except feet foremost ! " 
 
 To Diana he bowed most effusively, and rejoiced that she had 
 come to see the " 'ouuds." 
 
 " "When will you give us Holborn Vale chaps a turn?" he 
 asked. " That was a niceish run last year, Miss Diana — I beg 
 pardon, Mrs. Branscombe — when you and the Colonel was out. 
 He rode straight enough, did that gentleman; and hung out a 
 beautiful boot, too. Where might he be now ? In the Shires, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Colonel Mannering is abroad on foreign service," interposed 
 Ilalph, who had been hovering near, anxious to save his wife 
 from any possible annoyance. " What sort of an entry have you 
 got this year, Mr. Snuffbox ? " 
 
 This was a subject on which Snuffbox could enlarge to any 
 extent, and he dashed through the gate Ralph thus held open 
 for him, letting poor Diana alone. She felt more misei-able than 
 she would have thought it possible. Why should the idle 
 remarks of a stupid man like Snuffbox cause her such anguish ? 
 "When they trotted off to draw the nearest wood, Ralph was sorely 
 perplexed by a clashing of duties. He ought, he felt, to remain 
 near his uncle, who might require help at any moment, but he 
 did not like to leave Diana alone ; she, too, might require assist- 
 ance, though of a different nature. And his difficulties were not 
 diminished by the behaviour of the chestnut, who danced along 
 sideways, snatched violently at the bit, and in every way showed 
 an emphatic wish to get to the front. Neither Sir Henry nor 
 Diana were particularly anxious to occupy a forward position. 
 The former was happy, jogging along and talking with old friends 
 whom he had not seen for so many months ; it would have been 
 cruelty to disturb him. The latter was not desirous of showing 
 prominently at all. But the chestnut was very keen, and Ralph 
 was not able to devote much attention either to his wife or his 
 uncle. Fortunately an ally turned up in his father. The Rev. 
 George was quietly waiting for hounds at Bletchingtou, knowing 
 that the covers first drawn from Mersham Cross Roads were 
 
252 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 generally blank. Lazybones had had seven miles across country 
 to take the superfluous steam out of him, for the reverend gen- 
 tleman, though not quite as keen as his son, hated road-work, 
 and always selected a line of gates and gaps to take him to 
 hounds. 
 
 " Glad to see you, father," exclaimed Ealph. " Awfully glad, 
 for I can't hold this brute, and I want you to look after my uncle 
 and Diana." 
 
 Of course the Rev. George joined his brother at once. Sir 
 Henry was at first cool and rather suspicious, having faint recol- 
 lections of the times when he had been asked for loans to assist 
 the clergyman in bringing up his numerous family, and for- 
 getting for the moment that the Rev. George had not for some 
 years troubled him in that way. Diana, however, who had 
 taken a great fancy to her father-in-law, was delighted to see 
 him, and the three chatted quite gaily, till old Lazybones, whose 
 ears had been in constant motion as he watched the hounds, 
 suddenly gave a buck which nearly sent his master out of the 
 saddle. 
 
 "They've found," cried the clergyman. "Lazybones always 
 knows it before any one else. They're on a fox. This Avay. 
 Come along, Henry, I know how to get round; he's sure to 
 break on the Park side, and there's nothing but iron over there. 
 Come along, Di ! " 
 
 And away he hustled, forgetting all about his brother's recent 
 illness, and the caution which Ralph recommended him to 
 observe. The latter, meanwhile, was tearing through the wood 
 on his fiery steed, much to his own discomfort and that of his 
 neighbours. His hat was torn oft' by an overhanging branch, and 
 hung behind his back by the guard ; his knees were bumped a 
 dozen times against trees, and he felt that he would be lucky if 
 he got out of covert without having his head smashed. Never 
 would he take such a horse into a wood again ! Why the beast 
 had no more discretion than a pig, and went blundering along, 
 keen to catch hounds, without thinking for a moment that ho 
 had a man on his back, and that there were many jjlaces high 
 
THE LAST RUN. 253 
 
 enough and wide enough for a horse alone, but not high nor 
 wide enough for horse and man both. As usual, too, there was 
 a hog-baclvcd stile at the end of the narrow path through the 
 covert, and people were taking their turn at it quietly, popping 
 over one by one without fuss, for the place was small, but the 
 space being confined, rushing would have been fatal. " I beg 
 your pardon," said Ralph, as he cannoned against one man's 
 horse and pulled his own almost on to his haunches. 
 
 "Quiet, you brute; stand still; wait for your turn." But 
 the chestnut was not to be denied, and after a short struggle, 
 during which he knocked against, splashed, or otherwise an- 
 noyed about a dozen people, Ealph at last let him go at the 
 stile, at the risk of riding right over a young farmer's son, who 
 was taking his turn steadily enough. There was a yell, a 
 scramble, and the chestnut sailed away with his head down, 
 none the worse for the collision, while the farmer's son picked 
 himself up, disconsolately looked at his hat, and gazed after the 
 fast retreating figure. "Well," he muttered, "A shouldn't 
 have thought A'd be ridden over by t' young Squire, howiver." 
 
 But there could be no doubt that such was the fact, and the 
 " young Squire " was far too busy controlling his horse to look 
 back and see how his victim was getting on. 
 
 Whether the fox was an old or a young one might be an open 
 question, but at any rate he had gone away fast enough, and scent 
 was good, while the ground was as holding as it only becomes 
 after frost and snow, followed by a rapid thaw. The good folks 
 who had followed the Rev. George had all the best of it, for he 
 ran right handed, and the straight riders were obliged to make 
 a big circuit by the wide park and the lower lodge before they 
 could get on terms. The gallop just suited Ralph, for when 
 once on the smooth turf he let his chestnut go just as fast as he 
 liked, and passed the Hon. Seaton Delaval, Mr. Fetlock, and a 
 few more who fancied themselves, just as if they had been 
 standing still. The chestnut very nearly ran into the thick black 
 thorn hedge, high as a house, which faced the lodge gates ; but 
 with a determined jerk Ralph saved himself from a bed of thorns. 
 
254 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 and got liim along the road to the riglit. Now he conld hear 
 the hounds, but he could not see them, and it was only after a 
 couple of sticky turnip fields had been crossed that he was once 
 more close to the pack. On his extreme right he recognised 
 Sir Henry riding at a hand canter almost in lino with Diana, 
 while his father was showing them the way on old Lazybones, 
 and the groom rode close behind the baronet, ready to help if 
 wanted. This was a relief to him, and he could now watch the 
 hounds without pre-occupation. They were dwelling on the 
 edge of a ragged hedge, and the check let the body of the field 
 up. But it was not a long one ; soon one and then another 
 spoke to it and went streaming away over the soft pasture. Now 
 all sat down to ride in earnest, and the gallant master smiled as 
 he saw the very men who were always over-riding hounds when 
 scent was poor, doing their best in vain to catch them. The 
 chestnut was going better, but still pulling harder than Ralph 
 liked, and he was horribly afraid of the brute rushing at some 
 impossible place before he could stop him. However, as fence 
 after fence was thrown behind them, his fears disappeared ; the 
 chestnut went at his jumps with a boldness which charmed 
 him ; there v/as no hesitation and no " stickiness ; " all Ralph 
 had to do was to sit down and put his head straight at the ob- 
 stacle. They ran down into the Yale country, and when the 
 new horse had cleared a very big hedge protected by a ditch on 
 the take-off side, Boulter rose in Ralph's estimation. He had 
 recommended a good horse, anyhow, though it was certainly not 
 quite the mount for old Sir Henry. That big hedge proved 
 fatal to many. The chestnut had not made a gap, and there was 
 some hesitation and considerable grief. Soon Ralph heard some 
 one call, " Stop that horse," and the next moment a loose pony 
 rushed past. He caught the rein with his hunting-crop, pulled 
 up and looked back for the owner. No one on foot was visible, 
 but the hard riders, bespattered with mud, galloped past poor 
 Ralph in a way he did not like at all. No one even took 
 the trouble to tell him whose the pony was. Here was good- 
 nature ill-rewarded ! To lose such a run for the sake of some 
 
THE LAST RUN. 255 
 
 tailor ! At last lie perceived a lad coming slowly across the 
 ploughed field. Ealpli shouted at him : " Come and take your 
 horse ! hurry up or I shall let him go." The hoy did not seem 
 to appreciate the gravity of the situation. He came up quite 
 slowly, while Kalph eagerly stooped to throw him the reins. 
 
 " Look here," said the youth, composedly, and not making 
 any endeavour to relieve Ralph of his pony, " I'll tell you how it 
 happened. It was that hig hedge down there you know ." 
 
 '' Confound you ! " cried Ralph, angered out of his politeness ; 
 "I don't care ad — n how^ it happened. Hounds are running; 
 catch hold of your pony, man, and don't stand jawing like a fool ! " 
 
 " Rude heast," muttered the young man, as he endeavoured 
 to hoist himself into the saddle. "As if I'd fallen on purpose. 
 Some fellows have no manners at all. He need not have been 
 in such a hurry. Hounds are sure to stop directly." 
 
 But they did not stop. Ralph had his work cut out before 
 he caught them, and before he caught them the chestnut had 
 pretty well done pulling. There w^as, however, no faltering and 
 no hesitation. Ralph felt a little doubtful about a post and 
 rails, which now alone separated him from the hounds. It was 
 not a nice place for a tired horse to jump. But before he could 
 make up his mind to go through Shuffler's Gate the horse 
 decided the matter for him, by pricking up his ears and going 
 for the rails in a thoroughly workmanlike manner. Though 
 covered with foam and almost blown, he jumped them hand- 
 somely. Ralph nearly began to think that Boulter might be 
 honest after all. 
 
 They had now, however, come to slow hunting, and in a few 
 minutes, after a check, the hounds eagerly crowded round a hole 
 in the bank. There was no doubt of it, the fox had gone to 
 ground after a good thirty minutes, of which twenty had been 
 very fast indeed. Soon a semicircle formed round Reynard's 
 retreat, and mutual compliments (or chaff) were as usual 
 exchanged. Sir Henry, very red in the face and trembling, was 
 highly pleased, and kept repeating : " Capital run, eh ! capital 
 run. Never saw a better." 
 
256 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 When Ralph rode up to his uncle, he thought that the old 
 gentleman seemed to be staring very intently at some object on 
 the other side of the hedge. 
 
 ** How did you enjoy it, uncle ? " he asked. " Did Peterboro' 
 carry you -well? It is a pity the fox has gone to ground, is 
 it not ? " 
 
 " Capital run, caj^ital run," repeated Sir Henry, still staring 
 across the hedge, and in a peculiar tone of voice, which appeared 
 to get gradually weaker. " Capital run ; ca-pit-al — ru — ." 
 
 And suddenly, before any one could help, he fell from his 
 horse in one inert mass, with a dull thud. 
 
 Li a minute a dozen willing arms were lifting him up, and 
 supporting him, while a dozen voices shouted for Dr. Quayle. 
 
 '* Too late," said the little doctor, lifting his head after he had 
 examined the patient. *' Too late, the action of the heart has 
 entirely stopped. He is quite dead." 
 
CHAPTEK XXXII. 
 
 BEFORE READING THE ^YILL. 
 
 RECTORY was 
 
 very quiet on the 
 day after poor Sir 
 Henry's suclcleu encT. 
 The bHntls were 
 drawn, the gate was 
 closed, and the 
 phice was so still in 
 the subdued after- 
 noon light that it 
 looked like a de- 
 serted house. The 
 Rev. George — now 
 Sir George — Branscombe was at the Hall, performing those duties 
 with respect to funeral arrangements and other painful matters 
 which always and naturally fall to the lot of male relatives- 
 Mrs. Branscombe was with her daughters in the large school- 
 room at the back of the house, consulting about mourning, and 
 cutting out black merino and horrible crape. Mrs. Branscombe 
 was not the sort of woman to allow grief to interfere with her 
 very exact notions of propriety in dress and economy in her 
 household. It would not do for the girls to be seen about much 
 at such a sad time, and how better could tliey show their 
 respect for their departed uncle than by making their own 
 mourning frocks ? Poor Sir Henry had not been very fond of 
 his sister-in-law, although his thorough goodness and his inborn 
 courtesy had always ensured her the kindest reception at the 
 Hall. But Mrs. Branscombe knew well that she was not a 
 favourite there, and the frequent long visits of Mr- and Mrs. 
 
258 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 Tlirogmorton Toms were noticed by lier, and commented on, in 
 no friendly spirit. In fact it will be remembered that it was a 
 letter from his mother which chiefly caused Ralph's hasty return 
 from abroad in the previous spring. So while Mrs. Branscombc, 
 or, we should say, Lady Branscombe, was cutting out, and con- 
 triving, and planning, her thoughts /often wandered to the Hall, 
 and she strove with but scant success to conceal her anxiety as 
 to the disposition of the property. 
 
 There was little conversation. The girls were hemming, 
 snipping, tacking, and otherwise carrying out their mother's 
 orders. The stillness was only disturbed by an occasional ques- 
 tion : " Will this do, Regina?" or by a request such as : "Just 
 hold out your arm, Mary," "Please pass the scissors." The 
 mother occasionally put down her work to think and sigh, and 
 even the younger girls were subdued to the occasion. They, 
 Avondered Avhether they would have enough money in future to 
 buy dresses like the Misses Paull, and whether they would have 
 a carriage. Then suddenly the quiet was rudely interrupted by 
 a loud peal at the bell. They all started. " Some one come to 
 enquire, I suppose," remarked Lady Branscombe. " Go ou Avith 
 your work, girls." But the peal vras evidently not caused by an 
 ordinary visitor, for it was followed by the crunching of wheels 
 on the short drive and by a conversation in the passage. Of 
 course Mary Avanted to go out and see what was the matter, but 
 her mother sternly bade her remain in the room. Were they 
 not supposed to be each and all in their respective bedrooms, 
 clothed in sackcloth and ashes, and Aveeping gallons of tears ? 
 The conversation outside Avas prolonged and grcAV more animated. 
 Suddenly Lady Branscombe dropped her Avork and exclaimed 
 with a look of horror, " Good gracious, it's Janet! " 
 
 And the next moment the door burst open, and Miss Nettle- 
 rash Avulked in. 
 
 *' My dear ]\Laud, you really are most unfortunate in your 
 servants ! Why that girl actually tried to driA^e me aA\-ay from 
 my OAvn sister's door! IMy poor children," continued the elderly 
 spinster, kissing her nieces effusively, and Aviping her eyes 
 
BEFORE READING THE WILL. 259 
 
 between the lasses, " how are you all ? Of course I packed up 
 aud came away as soon as I heard. Poor Sir Henry ! How did 
 it happen, Maud ? " 
 
 " Packed up ? " asked Lady Branscomhe, in amazement. 
 "Yes, of course. You would not expect me to come here 
 without any clothes, would you '? I fnid the old black merino 
 will do very well for the present, with new crape sewn on to it, 
 and I bought the few things I want on my way here. Which 
 room am I to have, Maud ? One of the girls might see my box 
 taken upstairs." 
 
 The Ptcctor's wife was thoroughly taken aback. 
 ''Are you going to stop here, Janet ? " she gasped. 
 " Stop ? Well, of course I am. Am I the sort of woman to 
 leave my lawful sister alone in all her distress ? I knew you 
 would want me." 
 
 "■ But I have the girls, Janet, aud I really don't know vvdiethcr 
 we can find room for you." 
 Up v,-ent Miss Janet's nose. 
 
 " Find room for me ? In a -house like this, where I know you 
 have three spare bedrooms ? I must say, I never expected to be 
 treated in this way by my only sister. Do you turn me out, 
 then? Say so at once, and don't be a hypocrite." 
 
 Lady Branscomhe could not summon courage to answer such 
 a question in the affirmative. When boldly challenged by her 
 pugnacious sister she generally gave way for the sake of peace 
 and quietness. 
 
 "Of course not, Janet," she replied; "do not be foolish. 
 We will get a room ready for you. But I do not think you will 
 be very comfortable just now. You see we are very busy, and 
 of course George and Pialph are constantly at the Hall." 
 
 " That is only a civil way of saying that I am not wanted. 
 !J,Iaud, 3'ou must forgive me for telling you that you do not set 
 your children a good example of respect to their aunt. How- 
 ever, let Regina show me my room." 
 
 "Please, miss," said the parlour-maid, putting her head in, 
 ** the flyman says his fare is half-a-crown, and a shilling for 
 
 s 2 
 
260 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 waiting at the shops. That's three and six, and he won't go 
 away." 
 
 "What a cheat!" exclaimed Miss Nettlerash. "Waiting, 
 indeed ! Why I only stopped a moment at the draper's to get 
 some crape, and some black ribbon, and some thread and silk, 
 and a little lining ! Half-a-crown is plenty. I won't give him 
 any more." 
 
 The maid Avent out with this unsatisfactory message, but the 
 flyman refused to move. He remained on the door- step arguing 
 in no very subdued tones, and his language was gradually but 
 surely deteriorating. If there was one thing the Kector's wife 
 hated more than another, it was a noise on her door-step, which 
 was within sight and hearing of all the passers-by on the main 
 road. And at this particular time, such a scene was beyond 
 measure distressing to her. 
 
 " For goodness sake, settle with the man, Janet," she said. 
 " Really I cannot have a disturbance at the door just now." 
 
 "As if 7 were making the disturbance! Blame your own 
 parishioner for it; it is not my doing. If George cannot inspire 
 his people with better notions of honesty than that, I am sorry 
 for him and for them. I shan't give him another penny, even 
 if he stops there all night." 
 
 And with these words the old lady turned to ascend the stairs. 
 For once. Lady Branscombe's anxiety for peace and quiet over- 
 mastered her strict economy. She gave the flyman a shilling 
 and sent him on his way, but treasured up one more grievance 
 against her sister, to be avenged with interest some day, though, 
 of course, politely, for Lady Branscombe was always polite. 
 
 Meanwhile matters at the Hall had not gone on us quietly as 
 decorum required. Mr. Throgmortou Toms arrived there almost 
 at the same time as Miss Nettlerash reached the Eectory. He 
 was accompanied by a lean, dark, and clean-shaven gentleman, 
 whom he at once introduced to Sir George and Ralph as Mr. 
 James Bones, of Pickum, Bones & Co. 
 
 "I thought it necessary to come at once, dear Sir George," 
 said Toms sweetly to the Eector, laying an emphasis on the 
 
BEFORE READING THE WILL. 261 
 
 title, " because, you know, my dear friend who lias gone asked me 
 to be one of his executors, and this gentleman drew up the will," 
 
 Mr. Toms stopped, as if sulibcated by sobs. Wiping his 
 (perfectly dry) eyes, he proceeded : 
 
 "I thought it necessary that Mr. Bones should tell you 
 whether the will contained any instructions about poor Sir 
 Henry's last resting place, or his funeral." 
 
 Ealph was aghast. He had always expected that Mr. Toms 
 would be an executor, but he had never thought that his uncle 
 ■would have allowed a member of such a firm as Pickum, Bones, 
 & Co. to draw up his will. He had at once telegraphed for Mr. 
 Inkstone. 
 
 ** The late Sir Henry," began Mr. James Bones, " left no 
 directions about his funeral. He wished, I believe, to be 
 interred in Warboro' churchyard, but the manner of doing so 
 was left to the discretion of the survivors. I have brought the 
 late Sir Henry's last will and testament with me, and with your 
 permission, Mr. Toms, and yours, Sir George (turning to the 
 Piector), will communicate its contents after the funeral." 
 
 There being no objection to this course, Mr. James Bones 
 wisely returned to town as soon as the day of the funeral had 
 been arranged. ]Mr. Toms announced that he would remain at 
 the Hall, and though his presence was quite as unwelcome to 
 Ptalph as Miss Janet's was to his mother, there was no help for it. 
 Since Diana's escapade, there had on no occasion been so much 
 sympathy between herself and Pvalph as on the evening following 
 poor Sir Henry's fatal gallop. Both Avere equally disgusted 
 with Mr. Toms, who talked almost unceasingly of Sir Henry's 
 virtues and his Idndness, the flow of words being interrupted 
 only by sobs and tears, which the little man assured them he 
 was unable to repress. When, after a short and melancholy 
 dinner, Diana retired, Mr. Toms began to address himself 
 especially to Pialph. 
 
 " I am very, very sorry for you, Ptalph," he said. 
 
 "Why the deuce should lie be sorry for me ! " thought Ptalph. 
 But he did not reply. 
 
2G2 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 " I am afraid it -will make a great difference to you," contiuiicd 
 Mr. Toms. 
 
 *' Of course," assented Ealpli. 
 
 " He Avas a wonderfully generous man," the financier went 
 on, " and particularly kind to yony And then he buried his 
 face in his pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 "He was very good to me," grunted Ralph. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Toms, remoA'ing his pocket-handkerchief 
 from his face, and sipping some of Sir Henry's Chateau Margaux. 
 "It was very good of him to give you that twelve hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 " Very," Avas all Pialph felt inclined to answer. 
 
 " Extraordinarily kind. Few uncles would have done it, 
 considering that you were hardly ever out of a scrape since j'ou 
 left school." 
 
 There was nothing to answer to this, though llalph felt that 
 he Avas rapidly getting angry. There is nothing so thoroughly 
 exasperating as the truth put in a disagreeable way. Mr. Toms 
 Aviped his eyes once more, and then proceeded : 
 
 " You have made a mess of it, Ealpli ! "What a pity you 
 AA'asted 3'our opportunities. I used to do all I could for you Avith 
 Sir Henry." 
 
 "Indeed ?" groAvlcd Ilalph, getting hotter and hotter. 
 
 " Yes. He was very vexed Avith you over and over again. 
 If it had not been for me you Avould never have got that twelve 
 hundred, nor the five hundred he gave you last year." 
 
 Ralph Avould ha\-e liked to say, " "What an infernal lie ! " but 
 out of respect for his poor uncle, Avho Avas lying dead upstairs, 
 he held his peace. 
 
 " You have misunderstood me throughout, Ealph," and the 
 little man Avaxed sentimental. His voice Avas choked by real 
 sobs as he stammered out : " You never kncAV Avhat a friend yon 
 had in me. You thought — I — Avas — Avorking — against you, and 
 I Avas — always doing my best — for you." And at last he really 
 burst into tears. 
 
 Had Ealph after all misjudged him ? "Was the fellow 
 
BEFORE READING THE WILL. 263 
 
 better than he looked, and than his previous coniuct indicated? 
 Perhaps it was a mistake after all. Perhaps Mr. Toms had 
 really done his best both for his uncle and for Kalph, neglecting 
 his own interests. 
 
 " But," resumed Toms, gradually regaining his composure, 
 *' 3"ou never will knov/ all I did for you and Diana. I have 
 worked without the slightest regard for my own interests. I 
 have slaved for Sir Plenry, and tried to get him out of his 
 messes " 
 
 "Messes ? " inquired Ptalph, curiously. 
 
 "Yes. Did you not guess? He was always getting into 
 messes. Of course you must have known that when we worked 
 through all that city business together. My mouth was closed 
 then ; I could not tell you anything. You fancied that I had 
 got his aftairs into confusion. Not a bit of it. He did it all 
 himself, and I could not control him at all." 
 
 Pialph did not know what to make of it. 
 
 "When they returned to the drawing-room they fouud that 
 Diana had retired. Since that dreadful night Ptalph had 
 never entered her room, but to-day he left Toms downstairs, and 
 Imocked at his wife's door. 
 
 She was sitting at the fire, looking sadly into the glovring 
 embers. 
 
 " I have come, Diana," he said, " to tell you about Toms." 
 And he related his conversation with the financier. When he 
 had finished he asked his wife what she thought. 
 
 "Poor uncle!" she said, softly, after a few minutes' reflec- 
 tion. " No, Ealph," she went on, " I do not believe him. I 
 have lived with Uncle Henry nearly all my life, and I would 
 not weigh Toms' words against my uncle's deeds. He is a 
 humbug." 
 
 " But he was really crying," remarked Ptalph. 
 
 *' Oh, I dare say. Some people can cry when they like, and 
 others," she added, slowly, " cannot cry, even though their 
 heart is bursting. — Good night, Palph.' 
 
CHAPTER XXXni. 
 
 AFTER READING THE WILL. 
 
 THING lier sister could 
 say or do sufficed to 
 prevent Miss Nettle- 
 rash from driving 
 over next morning 
 to call on Diana. 
 Lady Branscombe 
 had not forgotten 
 the scene in her 
 drawing-room when 
 Ralph's engagement 
 was announced, 
 nearly a year ago, 
 and she was well 
 aware that her 
 daughter-in-law had not seen Miss Janet since. But all her efforts 
 to deter her sister proved unavailing. "It is my duty, and I 
 will," was her refrain, and she carried out what she thought her 
 duty like the strong-minded woman she fancied herelf to be. 
 Lady Branscombe could not muster courage to accompany her. 
 She so hated anything approaching a scene, that she was really 
 afraid to go. So Sir George had to act as escort, and it must 
 be confessed that the reverend gentleman gave his sister-in-law 
 the slip as soon as he had seen her safely into the deserted 
 drawing-room at the Hall. 
 
 Lady Branscombe, however, need not have been afraid. Her 
 own sins and the recent bereavement had not been without their 
 effect on Diana. She heard the announcement of her visitor's 
 name with surprise indeed, but not with the aversion she 
 would have shown a few months back. She was ready to bear 
 
AFTER HEADING THE WILL. 265 
 
 her share of hcing condolecl with hy her own and her husband's 
 relatives, and accepted Miss Nettlerash's visit as part of the 
 business which must be gone through. The men, she knew, had 
 the worst portion of the many sad functions inseparable from 
 death ; she was prepared to do her part as became Ralph Brans- 
 combe's wife. Therefore she held out her hand to Miss 
 Nettlerash, without any special feeling beyond that she was 
 performing a disagreeable but necessary duty. She was the 
 more surprised that the old lady should clasp her in her skinny 
 arms, while the black grapes and bugles which now decorated 
 her bonnet, shivered and jingled with the vigour of the kiss 
 pressed on Diana's unwilling lips. 
 
 " Why, how ill you look, Diana ! " exclaimed Miss Nettlerash. 
 " And no wonder, with this sad loss and all this worry ! Sit 
 down and tell me all about it, dear." 
 
 Diana was the last person in the world to tell anyone all about 
 it, and Miss Nettlerash the last person in the world in whom she 
 would have confided. But the old lady was in a sympathetic 
 and patient mood, and besides, she " wanted to know." When 
 she had a fit of curiosity nothing ever stopped her. So neither 
 Diana's coldness nor her reserve prevented Miss Nettlerash from 
 pouring out her sympathy, asking question after question. 
 *' How long was the attack? how did it begin ? what were the 
 symptoms ? what medicines did Sir Davenport Harley prescribe ? 
 who was with him ? who brought him home from the hunting 
 field?" These and many other queries were interspersed with 
 expressions of genuine sorrow and bursts of real feeling. Miss 
 Nettlerash was truly too much affected by the solemn sadness of 
 the house, and by Diana's wan face, to think of asking what she 
 had firmly intended to ask — whether anything was known of Sir 
 Henry's will ? This she forgot, fortunately for Diana, but she 
 did not forget to thank Diana for her kindness to Marian. It 
 will be remembered that Marian had been very discreet about her 
 visit, and Miss Nettlerash, of course, supposed that she had 
 been received and made comfortable by the lady of the house. 
 Diana blushed hotly, when Miss Janet spoke of that sadly 
 memorable night ; but the next moment, finding how well her 
 
26 S FAIR DIANA. 
 
 secret bad been kept, sbe felt one more reason to be grateful to 
 Ealpb, wbose tbougbtfuluess bad extended as far as Silverstone, 
 and bad prevented any gossip reacbing bis aunt's bouse, wbicb 
 geuevally acted on all tbe scandal witbin tbirty miles round like 
 a powerful magnet on steel filings. 
 
 At last, to Diana's relief, Miss Nettlerasb rose to go, and 
 again a liearty Idss resounded, and tbe bugles clunked. Botli 
 ladies bad been somewbat softened by tbe conversation. Diana 
 confessed to berself tbat Miss Nettlerasb was not quite so bad as 
 sbe tbougbt, and evidently meant to bo kind, -wbile tbe old 
 spinster was quite deligbted witb Diana's gentle and subdued 
 ways, wbicb sbe tbougbt were very different to ber former dasb- 
 ing, flirty manners. Xor did sbe fail to express bcr satisfaction 
 jn-etty clearly to Lady Branscombe, uotv/itbstanding tbe presence 
 of tbe girls. For it must be admitted, tbat if Janet bad no 
 besitation in criticizing witb a frankness often disagreeable, sbe 
 was equally willing to praise wben sbe Avas pleased ; and on tbe 
 wbole ber praise was barder to put up witb tban ber blame. Lady 
 Branscombe binted as gently as sbe could, tbat jNIarian must be 
 dull witbout ber, and tbat it would surely be more comfortable 
 for ber to return to Silverstone until tbe funeral. But Miss 
 Nettlerasb at once fired up. " You need not be anxious about 
 Marian," sbe said. "Her fatber and motber are staying at my 
 bouse wbile I am away. I suppose you want me to go. Wby 
 don't you say so instead of beating about tbe busb ? I will go 
 novr, if you like, as I bave paid my visit to Diana. Only you 
 must never expect me to come again, for I won't go wbere I am 
 not wanted ! " 
 
 Lady Branscombe covered a basty retreat under muttered 
 apologies. Her sister's frankness was always somewbat dis- 
 concerting. And Miss Janet proceeded to make berself com- 
 fortable at tbe Hectory, wbile tbe Eev. C. T. Mudbury 
 Dawson was doing tbe same at Silverstone. Tlicre was an 
 alarming diminution of Miss Nettlerasb' s port during ber 
 absence, and Mrs. Dawson in vain endeavoured to cbeck a 
 consumption wbicb sbe feared migbt lead to discoTery and 
 dissrace. 
 
AFTER READING THE VriLL. 267 
 
 Sir Henry Braiiscombe's funeral -was attendctl by all tlie 
 country' side. The worthy baronet's popularity had scarcely 
 suffered eA'en a check dnring his illness, as Ealph had done all 
 that lay in his power to carry on everything- just as his nncle had 
 done. So the tenants mustered in full force, and the neighbours 
 came from far and near, and the row of carriages was almost inter- 
 minable, and the respect shown to the deceased was not confined 
 to mere show. The farmers' wives, and the women and children 
 of Branscombe and Warboro' were sobbing as if their 
 hearts would break, while many of the men were almost equally 
 affected, though they showed their grief in a less demonstrative 
 manner. IMr. Paull and his son, young Egerton, were old friends 
 of the family, and of course came earl}^ ; and even Saintsbury 
 Suufi'box, tliough ho had had differences of opinion v.ith Sir 
 Henry, as he admitted, was lavish in his encomiums on the 
 virtues of the departed. " If he'd lived another year, sir," ho 
 said to Mr. Fetlock, " the Bart would have ridden to our hounds, 
 sir ; I know he vrould. He was a fine sportsman, was the Bart." 
 Snuff'box always spake of Sir Henry as " the Bart " when he 
 Avished to be friendly. When Mr. Paull, the last of the friends, 
 had gone, Mr. lukstone. Sir George, Ealph, and Mr. Toms, met 
 in the "justice room," where Mr. James Bones, who had of 
 course attended the funeral, was waiting for them. He produced 
 Sir Henry's will, which was duly written and engrossed in the 
 most correct style, on parchment, and bore date of the previous 
 April. 
 
 " Shall I read it out in full, gentlemen, or would you be satis- 
 fied to hear the chief conditions ? " 
 
 " Oh, the principal points are enough," said Mr. Toms. 
 
 " Better read it in full," suggested Sir George. And this, 
 accordingly, was done. It was a long, an unnecessarily long 
 document. Stripped of legal verbiage it amounted to the fol- 
 lowing : — Sir Henry's real property, consisting of the Branscombe 
 estate, with all its appurtenances, and a few outlying cottages, 
 were left to Ralph, subject to such mortgages as might at the 
 time of his death still be in force. To the Rev. George Brans- 
 combe he left the life interest of ten thousand pounds, with 
 
2GS FAIR DIANA. 
 
 remainder to his children absolutely in such shares as he might 
 appoint. To Mrs. Armit, Pringlc the butler, Boulter, and 
 various other servants, he left liberal legacies. The whole of 
 the remainder of his property, personal or otherwise, was for 
 Mr. Throgmorton Toms absolutely. The executors were Mr. 
 Throgmorton Toms and Mr. James Bones. Diana was not 
 even mentioned. 
 
 My. Irdvstone asked to look at the will, and then returned it 
 to Mr. Bones without remark. 
 
 It was some little time before Ralph and his father quite 
 realised the effect of this document. But by the time the 
 autumn twilight had come on, father and son had pretty well 
 agreed about it. Branscombe was a fine estate, but the rent- 
 roll did not exceed five thousand a year, even when the rents were 
 paid punctually in full. Ralph knew well that in recent years 
 his uncle had only obtained four thousand from it ; in fact, had 
 not some valuable ores been opened up on the other side of the 
 Downs, the revenue would not have attained much more than 
 half that figure. As a result, Branscombe barely paid its way, 
 for no one could keep up the Hall even respectably under four 
 thousand a year, and then only by very careful management. 
 But Ralph had also learned that there were heavy mortgages on 
 the land, and though he had not at the moment all the figures 
 before him, he estimated the mere interest at over two thousand 
 a year. Two thousand was, therefore, all that was left, and on 
 this income it was impossible to live at Branscombe Hall. 
 
 Still less could Sir George carry on the establishment. He 
 looked upon the ten thousand left to him as a provision for his 
 daughters, and though the interest of this money was a valuable 
 addition to his income, it was totally insufficient to justify his 
 giving up his living. 
 
 Where was all the rest ? In the hands of Mr. Throgmorton 
 Toms. How much this residue amounted to was entirely a 
 matter of conjecture. Mr. Inkstone thought half a million; 
 Sir George guessed it at two hundred thousand : Ralph, too, 
 estimated it as at least that amount. At any rate, it was a 
 very large sum ; the result of the late Baronet's long, active. 
 
AFTER EEADING THE AVILL. 2G9 
 
 and careful business life. So much Ralph knew from his inves- 
 tigations in London. And both father and son came to the 
 conclusion that Mr. Toms had played his cards too well. Ralph 
 was now poorer than ever, for Avhen a bachelor he had only 
 himself to provide for, and received a handsome allowance from 
 his uncle, in addition to frequent assistance, and a salary from 
 Brown, Holland, & Co. 
 
 " What shall you do, Ralph ? " asked Sir George. 
 
 " I don't know. He was not in his right mind when he made 
 that will." 
 
 " Certainly not," said the Rector. " Shall we attack it ?" 
 
 '"I don't know," replied Ralph. "I wish Inkstone had 
 not gone away in such a hurry." For the lawyer had left for 
 London on important business. 
 
 At that moment the servant brought in lights. He was 
 followed by Mr. Toms. 
 
 That gentleman came in quite calmly, and without any appa- 
 rent hesitation said : 
 
 " Sir George and Ralph, I shall be very glad to do anything 
 I can for you. Please command me if you want anything. I 
 know the City, and may be useful to you." And he pursed up 
 his little round mouth in the peculiar stylo he adopted when he 
 wished to be winning and persuasive. 
 
 While Mr. Toms was speaking, Ralph's brow grew dark. 
 
 " What on earth do you mean, Mr. Toms, by coming to us as 
 if nothing had happened ? " he asked, controlling himself with 
 great difficulty. ' ' Do you forget what we were told only two 
 hours ago ? You don't seem to realise that my poor uncle's 
 will makes me almost a pauper, and that you have been enriched 
 at our expense ! " 
 
 " It is not so bad as all that, Ralph," replied Mr. Toms, still 
 keeping his mouth as round as possible. *' Branscombe will 
 still be worth a verv handsome income after subtracting all 
 charges. Besides, on my word of honour, I did all I could to 
 prevent his making me residuary legatee." 
 
 " You liar !" interrupted Ralph. 
 
 *' Ralph, be quiet ! " called out Sir George, alarmed. 
 
270 FAIE DIANA. 
 
 The little financier flushed up, but said, quietly enough : 
 
 " Ralph, I am sorry to hear you use such strong, and, let me 
 add, totally unjustiiiahle language. I have alwaj's regretted 
 that you exercised so little control over your passions. I can 
 only repeat, that had it not been for me, you would probably not 
 have been treated so handsomely." 
 
 " You blackguard !" now exclaimed Ralph, quite unable any 
 longer to control himself. " How dare you speak to us like 
 that, after you have robbed us of our inheritance ? " 
 
 " Ralph, Ralph, be quiet ! " interrupted Sir George. 
 
 " Oh, Sir George, I am not surprised. I never expected 
 anything but the basest ingratitude from 3'our son, whom I have 
 helped time out of mind. AYhy, only a few months ago, in this 
 very room, I lent him two hundred pounds, without any security 
 whatever. And I persuaded good Sir Henry to help him out of 
 his sinful scrapes, often, and many a time. Poor, good, generous 
 man ! " And Mr. Toms wiped his eyes, " That this fine estate 
 should go to such a reprobate is most distressing. I now repent 
 that I did not open Sir Henry's ej'cs to his real character. May 
 your wicked heart be softened is my only prayer, young man." 
 
 " You rogue — you arch hypocrite ! " shouted Ralph ; " if you 
 were not such a miserable, mean little wretch I would knock 
 your teeth down your lying throat " 
 
 " Stop, Ralph, stop ! " cried his father, jumping up, and 
 laying a hand on his shoulder. But Ralph shook it olf, and 
 advanced towards Toms in a menacing attitude : 
 
 " Get out of this place, you scoundrel ! " he cried. " At any 
 rate, this is my house, and you shall not dirty it any longer witli 
 your presence, you hound. Do you recollect the El Dorado 
 gold mining swindle?" 
 
 Mr. Toms rapidly retreated towards the door, which he 
 quickly opened. When he was on the safe side of it, he put his 
 head in again, and said, his voice choked with emotion : 
 
 " Farewell, Sir George; I shall not trouble your son again." 
 And, deeply moved, the good little man quickly slammed the 
 door, and made a bolt of it. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV, 
 
 TEE LAST STKAW 
 
 I p 11 SPENT 
 
 tlie next 
 t^^•o days in 
 misery and 
 doubt. What 
 should he do ? 
 He was un- 
 willing to con- 
 sult Diana, 
 though she 
 was so much 
 concerned in 
 
 the decision. When a man's wife has run away with some. 
 one else, and has been brought back almost by force, he 
 is not likely to turn to her in his difficulties. He was 
 bitterly disappointed. He had hoped and expected that a 
 handsome provision would be made for his father, whom he 
 loved, and that the remainder would be left to him, to 
 enable him to keep up the estate, improve it, and in time 
 enter the field of politics in which he desired to acquire 
 distinction. Since Diana's escapade his home was scarcely a 
 home to him, and he had looked forward to an active life divided 
 between business and sport, to divert him from domestic troubles 
 if it could not entirely console him. Sir Henry had been a 
 justice of the peace; of course Ealpli expected to be placed on 
 the Bench in his uncle's stead. He had cherished the prospect 
 of an active and useful life, if not of a happy one, but the 
 activity, the usefulness, and the pleasures were all connected 
 TTith Brimscombe Hall and Warboro'. To keep the farms 
 
2/2 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 up as well as bis uncle had done, to develop the mines, to assist 
 local hospitals and dispensaries, to become in time member for 
 Warboro', and perhaps, some day, to take office under the 
 Conservative Government which must sooner or later succeed 
 to the Radical administration of the time ; these were his 
 di-eams of work. To ride good horses, to support the Bankshire 
 hounds, and possibly to succeed Mr. Shorthouse, who was 
 gradually getting old, to keep a few steeple-chasers and perhaps 
 to train a good colt or two for Newmarket ; these were his 
 visions of pleasure. All were dashed to the ground by his 
 uncle's will. Mediocrity was before him ; that mediocrity he 
 detested more than anything. To go abroad and live on the 
 nett income left' him was to tear up all old associations by 
 the roots and to destroy all future hopes, to sink into 
 a slough of inaction and middlingness. To return to Brown, 
 Holland, & Co. was to resume irksome and mechanical work 
 for a very insufficient reward, and besides, would necessitate 
 living in London, which he feared for the sake of Diana. Who 
 knows whether the solitude of her life and the long days she 
 must spend thrown on her own resources, might not expose her 
 to fresh, if not to the old temptations ? Ealph was now too 
 old to enter the public service by the usual roads, and he who 
 might have obtained for him one of those few posts still bestowed 
 by patronage was gone. 
 
 The prospect was dreary indeed, and Ealph rode over to the 
 Rectory in the worst possible spirits. They were not raised by 
 his father's brief and subdued account of AVarboro' gossip. 
 He felt that another plank in his platform — his popularity in 
 the county — was sinking from under him. In despair he cried 
 at last : 
 
 " I shall attack the v/ill, father ! He was not in his right 
 mind when he made it. It is absurd." 
 
 *' My dear boy, what chance have we, if we do?" asked Sir 
 George. 
 
 " Every chance," replied Ralph, hotly. " Why it is notorious 
 that before he was ill my uncle meant you, Diana, and myself 
 
THE LAST STRAW. 273 
 
 to have the ^vhole of his property. The new will was made 
 while he was actually insane. None but a madman would 
 have left yon ten thousand pounds to keep up the title, none 
 but a madman would have allowed that blackguard Toms to 
 play ducks and drakes with the property." 
 
 "It is all very well," answered the clergyman after a few 
 seconds' thought, " for vs to feel convinced that my poor 
 brother was not in his right senses. But it is a different 
 matter to convince a judge and jury. Is that possible ?" 
 
 " Certainly," Ealph declared ; *' there can be no doubt 
 of it." 
 
 " Think of the scandal, and of the expense if we fail," objected 
 Sir George. 
 
 " Scandal ! " exclaimed his son Avarmly, " that little beast has 
 done his worst already. I am not afraid of scandal. As to 
 expenses, what does it matter whether I have two thousand a 
 year out of the estate, or only one ? We cannot live there, any- 
 how." 
 
 ■' I suppose not. But it is a matter neither you nor I can 
 decide. You ought to consult Penner & Inkstone." 
 
 " Old stupids ! " cried Ealph. " If they had been half sharp 
 nothing like this would have happened." And in his anger 
 he forgot that the family lawyers had brought him back from 
 Italy, and that it was they who had first warned him of 
 what was going on. But in the result he agreed to follow 
 his father's advice, and to go to town next day to consult the 
 old firm. 
 
 At home, in the evening, Diana after many misgivings timidly 
 asked him what he proposed doing. She felt that she had lost 
 the right to influence his decisions, and that she could no longer 
 expect to be consulted on every important matter. But since 
 Ealph had come into her room, a few days before, to tell her 
 about Mr. Throgmorton Toms, she ventured, with much hesita- 
 tion, to ask him about his views for the future. Poor Diana had, 
 however, chosen an unfortunate moment. The evening's post 
 had brought a letter from the bank which was, in fact, just 
 
 T 
 
274 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 what Puilpli had expected, only he did not expect it so soon. 
 There was scarcely any ready money left, and Mr. Toms would 
 certainly not supply any more. This letter, and a few other 
 reminders, had spoiled his temper entirely. So he answered 
 more roughly than he had ever spoken hefore : 
 
 " "VMiat I am going to do ? "Wliat other paupers do, I sup- 
 pose. Go ahroad somewhere, and hide. There will be enough 
 left for you to live in town and enjoj^ yourself with your military 
 friends." 
 
 It was a cruel, almost a brutal answer. Hardly was it spoken 
 before Ralph would gladly have bitten his tongue off. But it 
 was too late. Diana turned pale — almost livid — and then flushed 
 up suddenly to the roots of her hair. She felt as if a sharp 
 knife had been mercilessly thrust into her heart. She had fondly 
 hoped that her husband was gradually and gently opening again 
 to her that door of his confidence which she had herself foolishly 
 and wickedly closed. She had begun to believe that some day, 
 however distant, she might by repentance regain the position 
 she had herself forfeited. A faint ra}' of light — very faint and 
 very remote — had illumined her path, and she had gained fresh 
 courage from it, had shaken off despondency, and had striven to 
 take a new interest in his and her life. Now that door was sud- 
 denly slammed in her face ; a cruel sarcasm was launched at 
 her ; that light was extinguished, and she was cast back into the 
 darkness of despair. The blow was all the harder that it was 
 not undeserved. She silently and swiftly left the room, and 
 once more sat down by her own fire with that stony, hopeless 
 look in her eyes, which Ralph had noticed on the days imme- 
 diately following her flight. And he suffered almost as acutely 
 as she did. Ho would have given anything to withdraw those 
 words, to have made them unsaid. Why did he not throw him- 
 self before her and prevent her leaving the room ? Why did he 
 not cry out loudly what was in his heart : " Forgive me, Diana ! 
 I did not mean it; I was out of temper, mad?" But the 
 moment was past, the opportunity lost. He heard Diana 
 shut herself up, and he knew that he had committed a crime 
 

 03 
 
THE LAST STRAW. 275 
 
 which he had not the courage to atone for at once and on the 
 spot. 
 
 That night brought little sleep to Ralph, and none to Diana. 
 She did not toss wearily on her pillow, as persons are generally 
 su]3posed to do when worried and anxious. Her thoughts were 
 too absorbing for her to seek for rest. They were concentrated 
 on one object, and one alone : how to make this blow easier for 
 Ealph to bear. His words showed that he cared nothing for her; 
 that was of course natural. How could he, after what she had 
 done ? It was almost generous of him to think of providing for 
 her at all. It would serve her right to be cast out like Hagar, 
 without an Ishmacl to relieve her solitude. It was the first time 
 since that horrible night that he had alluded to her misconduct 
 in any way whatever. Now she, by her foolish question, had 
 brought that bitter reproof on herself. What right had she to 
 ask him about his future plans ? She had been a false wife to 
 him, and he was giving her the shelter of his house and name 
 out of pity, out of generosity. She ought to have humbly 
 submitted to everything he chose to do, without a question. 
 Aye ! even when he spoke those bitter words, she should have 
 fallen at his feet and begged his pardon for having caused them. 
 Soon her self-reproaches went so far that she began to consider 
 herself guilty of Sir Henry's will. No doubt her uncle had 
 heard all about Colonel Mannering, through Mr. Toms, and had 
 intended to punish her. No doubt he had foreseen that she 
 would make Ralph miserable, and had decided to provide for 
 Ralph alone. Two thousand a-year was plenty for him; he 
 could, as a bachelor, live comfortably on it, hunt as much as he 
 liked, and enter Parliament, which she knew was his ambition. 
 A false wife would only be a drag on him. The income which 
 was so ample for Ralph alone was nothing for them both. It 
 was her fault, hers alone, that it was so small. Before mornins: 
 ner resolution was taken. 
 
 T 2 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A DEAL. 
 
 Mr. Toms was not the 
 man to let the grass grow 
 under his feet. He has- 
 tened to complete all 
 necessary arrangements 
 for retiring from the 
 City. Knowing, as he 
 did, the contents of Sir 
 Henry's testament long before the worthy baronet's death, 
 Mr. Toms had been for months preparing for his elevation 
 into a higher sphere. Every share in the Eldorado Gold Co. 
 had long ago been disposed of, and when in the course of 
 nature, a few months later, that swindle had died a natural 
 death, and vv^as " compulsorily wound up," Mr. Toms was 
 no longer on the list of contributories, and the mahogany 
 portals in Throgmorton Street had for many weeks not swung 
 back to his small but pompous pressure. Mr. Toms always 
 knew when to get out of things. Some of them he had " un- 
 loaded " on Sir Henry's broad shoulders during the baronet's 
 illness. Others he had disposed of to the few confiding friends 
 he still possessed. In some cases he had not hesitated to sacri- 
 fice a few hundreds in order to get clear for ever of doubtful 
 ventures. As to the greater portion of his shares he sold 
 them while they were high, but not at the highest point. If he 
 could make a fair profit and relieve himself of all future respon- 
 sibility he always did so at once, and never waited in the 
 expectation of a further rise. Mr. Toms seldom made very large 
 couj^s ; he was satisfied with a number of moderate ones. And 
 although his companies one and all came to a bad end sooner 
 
A DEAL. 277 
 
 or later, the end never came wliile he was still concerned in 
 them. On the contrary, as long as Mr. Toms was at the head 
 of affairs they flourished exceedinglj' — at any rate, on paper. 
 Large dividends were declared, and still larger ones promised. 
 The shares were at a premium. Gradually Mr. Toms' 
 holding would be reduced to his qualification. Then one 
 fine day he would resign on account of some trifling difference 
 of opinion, or because he was so busy in other directions, or 
 because he was ill, or because his friend Sir Henry Branscombe 
 was ill and wanted him at the Hall. Specious excuses were 
 never wanting. A few weeks or months later the shares would 
 unaccountably begin to drop, at first slowly, Avith occasional 
 recoveries, and then faster ; and a paragraph would appear in 
 some paper, saying that " since the X. Y. Z. Co. (Limited) had 
 lost the valuable services of Mr. Throgmorton Toms on the 
 Board, its affairs had been less flourishing than heretofore." 
 After that the crash was not long delayed. Though some people 
 declared that a couple of his companies were still in existence, 
 the Eldorado Gold Company (Limited) was the last, though not 
 the least, of Mr. Toms' City ventures. 
 
 As soon as this magnificent speculation was successfully 
 launched, as soon as a director, more complaisant than Ealph, 
 had sent home glowing accounts of the gold and jewels dis- 
 covered in Utopia, Mr. Throgmorton Toms gradually drew all 
 his irons out of the fire. Sir Henry's apparent return to health 
 had somewhat disconcerted his plans, for it was possible that 
 the old gentleman might, almost at any moment, remember the 
 contents of the will he made in April, revoke them, and make a 
 new one. But Mr. Throgmorton Toms' expectations were 
 verified at last. He had attained his object. He was sorry that 
 Branscombe Hall was not included in the handsome residuum left 
 to him ; but with the cash at his command nothing was impos- 
 sible. His operations in the City, extending as they had done 
 over twelve years, had made him a wealthy man ; what was now 
 his made him a very rich one. Mrs. Throgmorton Toms had 
 always been a woman of the world ; she would now be a woman 
 
278 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 of fashion. Her afternoons and lier dinners should he the talk 
 of London. She would open a salon. INIr. Throgmorton Toms 
 had always heen considered a clever financier, he would now 
 hecome a country gentleman, and the City should be forgotten. 
 Ho would join the Four-in-Hand Club, and his drag should he 
 the admiration of the people and the envy of his former equals. 
 He would give sumptuous luncheons at Ascot, and collect 
 round his little person the cream of sporting society. At his 
 country mansion, wherever it was, he would entertain nothing 
 hut the very best people. Mrs. Throgmorton Toms would be 
 the elegant, fashionable, and cultivated hostess ; he would be the 
 affable, frank, and hospitable country squire of large estate ; he 
 would keep open house on certain occasions, such as lawn meets 
 or flower shows (" cda ii engage a ricn" said Mrs. Toms, approv- 
 ingly), and would, before many years were over, be asked by an 
 influential deputation to stand for the county. Nay, more. 
 Was it unlikely, or at any rate, was it impossible, that a Liberal 
 Ministry, pleased to have on its side the rare combination of 
 qualities he possessed as a wealthy man, an all-round sportsman, 
 a popular country gentleman, and a devoted adherent, might not 
 even raise him to the — 
 
 Peerage ? 
 
 Such were the thoughts which inflated Mr. Toms' little 
 bosom as he walked slowly up Bond Street. His small eyes 
 were no longer suffused with the tears he had shed so lavishly at 
 Branscombe Hall, nor were his round features harrowed by the 
 deep grief he had then displayed. Though his sorrow was not 
 much more than a week old, he had got over it wonderfully. 
 "Why should he not ? Here, in town, where he was most un- 
 likely to meet a member of the Branscombe family to remind 
 him of his affliction, there was surely no reason to mourn more 
 deeply than fashion required. His hatband Avas of the depth 
 considered proper for an uncle, and as Sir Henry had only been 
 a cousin by marriage, that was really far more than the occasion 
 demanded. His frock coat was black, and he wore an onyx pin 
 
A DEAL. 279 
 
 in bis handsome black satin scarf. His gloves, too, were black, 
 and bis trousers very nearly so. His bandkercbief bad a black 
 border, and bis crest — for Mr. Toms sported a crest — was 
 embroidered on it in black. All tbis Avas truly decorous and 
 proper ; be was paying bis departed benefactor far more respect 
 tban any ordinary cousin by marriage would bave considered 
 necessary. As to any otber proof of affection for tbe late Sir 
 Henry, it would be produced wben called for. Mr. Tbrogmortou 
 Toms would easily again be moved to tears if tbe occasion 
 required tbem. But be was now on no errand of sorrow. He 
 was going to Oxford Street, to see about ordering a drag. He 
 wisbed to open tbe season witb becoming splendour, and in four 
 montlis more, tbe season would be upon bim. Tbere was not 
 too mucb time left, for Mr. Toms bad no notion of buying a 
 drag ; be intended to bave one built specially for bim, and be 
 bad no misgivings as to bis driving. He would take a few 
 lessons, and would soon pick up any minor knack required. 
 Notbing, in tbe ex-financier's opinion, raised a man so 
 quickly and so decidedly above tbe common berd, as driving 
 a coacb. Tbere could be no doubt at all about it. Taste and 
 money were wanted to start it ; a number of servants were 
 required to keep it up. A mere man of straw could not buy it, 
 and a mere City man could not drive it. It brougbt a fellow into 
 notice at once. Even duchesses would ask whose that beautiful 
 turn out was, while young ladies of title would compete for tbe 
 box-seat. The drag would fill Mrs. Toms' drawing-room witb 
 tbe people she wanted. The drag would open to Mr. Toms tbe 
 doors of exclusive clubs ; tbe drag would make both of them 
 sought after and invited ; tbe drag would introduce them to 
 those higher spheres after which they both panted ; tbe drag, in 
 short, was le moyeii de jmrvenir. Nor should it be an ordinary 
 drag ; tbe very latest improvements, the most stylish construc- 
 tion, tbe most tasteful colours, should contribute to make this 
 coach a very triumphal chariot. 
 
 So tbe conference in Oxford Street was long and intimate. 
 Mr. Throgmorton Toms wanted drawings, and a specification, and 
 
280 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 an estimate, and though he placed no limit on the money he was 
 prepared to spend, he determined to obtain full value for it. He 
 spoke of splinter-bars, and axle-boxes, and leathers, and tires, 
 and bosses, as if he had never done anything else all his life, but 
 yet Mr. Toms did not deceive himself. He was far too shrewd 
 for that. He thought he had deceived the coachmaker for the 
 present, but he wondered how long he could keep the game up. 
 The little financier was not a modest man, but he knew his ovm 
 failings. He was aware that driving four-in-hand was a diffi- 
 cult art of which he had not yet mastered the first rudiments, 
 and he knew that if the late Sir Henry had ever put him on 
 anything more lively than Plum Pudding, the fat cob, he would 
 have fallen off. Yet no later than next May he intended to drive 
 his own coach, and in November he would appear at covert side 
 near his own ancestral halls (when he should have bought them) 
 as a thorough-going sportsman. He wished it himself, and Mrs. 
 Throgmorton Toms also wished it. There was no reason why 
 it should not be done. Islv. Toms had not spent more than a 
 year in mastering the secrets of the Stock Exchange, and in two 
 years he was acknowledged to be an able man of business. Why 
 should he spend more than a few months learning driving and 
 riding ? For a person of his abilities it would be mere child's 
 play. 
 
 So IMr. Toms cast about for some one to teach him to become 
 a good all-round sportsman. No mere riding-master would serve 
 his turn. For in the first place, he had seen so many of the 
 riding-master's favourite pupils come to grief, and in the second, 
 he felt that his having taken lessons might some day come out 
 when it was least pleasant, and his pretensions to being a sports- 
 man might be suddenly knocked on the head. Ah ! if Puilph 
 had not been such a fool, Pualph would have been the very man. 
 Ealph would have helped him to learn riding and driving, and 
 he would have put the lad up to a good thing or two in the City, 
 so as to make that two thousand a-year go as f^ir as ten. But 
 Ptalph Avas a bad-tempered idiot. They might have hunted 
 together, and he would not have been particular if Ralph did 
 
A DEAL. 281 
 
 knock up a borso or two ; and they might have driven down to 
 the Orleans, and to Ascot, with a fine woman like Diana on the 
 drag, which would have looked avcIL They might, too, have 
 driven other ladies down to Richmond occasionally — ladies whom 
 Mrs. Toms would call " creatures " — and have had a rare old 
 time altogether. But Ralph w^as an ill-conditioned cub. 
 
 No man, however, in Mr. Toms' happy pecuniary position 
 need be on the look-out long for someone to show him the 
 " ropes " of sport. In Mr. Toms' Club — the Colonnade, which 
 he frequented wdiile waiting to be elected member of the great 
 and exclusive Benedict — there was a Major Hunt. No one 
 knew in what regiment he had served, nor whether he had 
 served her Majesty at all. He understood all about horses, and 
 had given friends some xerj useful tips for the Autumn handi- 
 caps. He had formerly ridden in steeplechases as a gentleman 
 jockey, but had not appeared between the flags for years. He 
 and his friends said this was because he was now too heavy ; his 
 enemies gave other and more unpleasant reasons. But the 
 Major certainly looked as if he walked at least twelve stone, so 
 his own version was very probably the true one. AnyhoAV, the 
 Major was not a bad character. They did not gamble much at 
 the Colonnade. He was not particularly lucky at the one game 
 they habitually played there — half-a-crown whist. There was,.in 
 fact, nothing against him. In his f ivour were a tall but slight 
 figure, a face which might have been termed handsome by 
 a school-girl : very black moustache, full whiskers, dark eyes, 
 and a winning address of undoubted Irish origin. 
 
 He had not much money, but he made no secret of his small 
 means. On the other hand, he did not brag of it, as some men 
 will, who begin every sentence with saying " Of course a poor 
 devil like me cannot do so-and-so." Much satire has been 
 written on purse-proud men and nouveanx riches, but the 
 poor man who is always calling one's attention to his poverty is 
 almost as great a nuisance. Major Hunt was a careful man, 
 ■v^-ho never took a cab if his legs would carry him quickly enough, 
 ■who never spent a shilling if sixpence would do, and who 
 
282 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 was satisfied with little because bis means did not allow bim 
 more. But no one bud ever called bim stingy, and on occasion 
 he had even been known to be generous. 
 
 Now it so happened that at the very time when Mr. Throg- 
 morton Toms left the coach-builder's in Oxford Street, and 
 walked slowly eastwards in a brown stud}-, Major Hunt was 
 sfoing westwards on the same side of the street to interview his 
 tailor on the subject of " doing up " some cords which had seen 
 a good many seasons, and which even the Major's admirable 
 man-servant, who did the most extraordinary amount of work on 
 the very smallest wages (irregularly paid), could no longer restore. 
 Major Hunt, therefore, met Mr. Toms face to face, and as 
 naturally stopped him. Mr. Toms Avas in a doubtful, hesitating 
 frame of mind, the ]Major was bright and pleasant, Toms was 
 looking out for a sporting mentor, and Providence sent one 
 straight into his arms. Before the gallant Major had talked in- 
 his usual soft and melodious tones for more than five minutes 
 the financier had decided to ask his advice. The drag afibrded 
 a capital 0])portunity. They returned to the coachmaker's 
 together, and this time there was no mistake about the know- 
 ledge which was brought to bear on the subject. It is not 
 surprising that Major Hunt postponed his visit to the tailor's in 
 order to return to the Colonnade Club arm-in-arm with Toms. 
 He thought that possibly he might be able to aftbrd to order a 
 new pair soon. Toms only intended to honour his friend with a 
 sort of half-confidence, and had no notion of placing himself en- 
 tirel}^ under the Major's guidance. But the latter having hooked 
 a heavy fish, played him with the greatest dexterity and patience. 
 He never hinted that Toms could not drive, but told a couple of 
 funny tales of misfortunes which happened to bad drivers, and 
 then abruptly left the subject to admire a pair of horses waiting 
 at Grosvenor Gallery, then insisted on taking Toms into 
 Mitchell's to look at lovely Lady Colthorpe, whose carriage he 
 had noticed outside. The conversation was continued in the 
 Colonnade Club. Throughout the afternoon. Major Hunt tacitly 
 assumed that Toms was a thorough sportsman — in fact, assumed 
 
A DEAL. 283 
 
 that his education in this respect had been completed long ago. But 
 when Toms at last hinted that he did not know much of driving 
 a four-in-hand, Major Hunt expressed no surprise, but remarked 
 that very few fellows could really drive well, and that he him- 
 self was often committing slight blunders in style or in some 
 other detail, though he had driven every season for the last 
 twenty-six years. The two parted after a shcrry-and-bitters, 
 and Toms went home to consult his wife. For he seldom did 
 anything important without first asking ]Mrs. Toms what she 
 thought about the matter. Mrs. Toms told him to bring the 
 Major to dinner, and when she had taken stock of the gal- 
 lant officer, advised her husband to secure his services at 
 once by a payment of a hundred guineas. That lady was 
 very anxious that her little spouse should shine, and she liked 
 the idea of his becoming first a country squire and then a county 
 member. But she did not wish him to break his back by up- 
 setting a coach in the attempt, and above all she was anxious 
 that he should not be made ridiculous. 
 
 Mr. Toms followed his instructions. The Major was of course 
 much surprised, and said he could not think of taking anything, 
 though he Avould be glad to oblige his friend Toms ; but when 
 he found that the financier rather liked the notion of getting his 
 lessons gratis, and was not particularly anxious to press a cheque 
 on him, the Major hinted that of course his toilet was not quite 
 up to the best form, and the bargain was struck. It was arranged 
 that the Major should at once look out for a comfortable crib 
 in the Midlands, where they could hunt three or four days 
 a-week, and practise driving on oft'-days. They had still three 
 good months before them, and if they picked out rather a quiet 
 place Mr. Toms could take his lessons in both arts without 
 attracting much notice. It was further arranged that Major 
 Hunt should at once buy a sufficient stud for both of them, and 
 all that Mr. Toms stipulated for was that he wished to see the 
 horses first. Thirdly, the Major was to board, lodge, ride, and 
 drive as Mr. Toms' guest. Lastly, it Avas agreed that the Major 
 should drop no hint to anyone about "teaching" Mr. Toms 
 
284 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 what lie of course already knew. "When these terms had heen 
 amply discussed over the best dinner the Colonnade could afford, 
 Mr. Toms handed his gallant mentor a cheque, and both felt 
 that the treaty would be faithfully kept, for it was in the interest 
 of both to keep it. 
 
 " You must get into training a bit, my good friend," said 
 IMajor Hunt, one morning, as they drove down to Mr. Bedford's 
 stables to look at some horses. " "Wo ought to get a clever 
 quiet cob for joxi to jog about on at first : one that will jump a 
 stile if necessary, and that won't pull at you, Bedford says 
 that he's got a chestnut that will just suit you." 
 
 Mr. Toms agreed, for indeed, though he was anxious for the 
 honour and glory of riding straight across country, he was rather 
 nervous about its dangers, and was not at all unwilling to begin 
 quietly. Mr. Bedford had made all necessary preparations to 
 receive the illustrious financier, of whose arrival he had of course 
 been forewarned b}^ Major Hunt. For, notwithstanding that gallant 
 ofBcer's siugle-mindedness, he was not above taking a small 
 commission from the dealers to whom he introduced his City 
 friend. 
 
 Everything loolced neat and workmanlike at Mr. Bedford's 
 hunting- stables. There were no untidy heaps of manure about ; 
 there were no tumble-down sheds and broken doors. A neat 
 paved yard, surrounded on three sides by ranges of plain but 
 comfortable stabling, the fourth side being occupied by a pretty 
 cottage, in v,-hicli was Mr. Bedford's office, and a small dining- 
 room specially devoted to the purpose of screwing unwilling 
 buyers up to the mark, and wetting bargains. In one corner was 
 a gate, which gave access to a large grass field studded Avith the 
 artificial jumps so well known to purchasers of hunters. There 
 was the five-barred gate, which was hung on pivots in the 
 centre of each post, the bars being barely six inches apart. The 
 whole was no higher than a sheep hurdle, and would give 
 directly it was hit. There was the Irish bank, nearly as broad 
 on the toj) as the Brighton Esplanade, and as easy to get up as 
 a common doorstep. There was a row of hurdles sloped at an 
 
A DEAL. 285 
 
 angle, and filled with furze, through which old customers 
 brushed as easily as if it had been a spider's web. And there 
 was also the celebrated "nine feet of bare water" — a trench 
 about six inches deep, with just enough liquid in it to cover the 
 bottom. Over all these formidable obstacles Mr. Bedford's two 
 and three hundred guinea hunters flew without the slightest 
 mistake. 
 
 Major Hunt picked out two — a blood-like black, standing just 
 under sixteen hands, and a strong compact bay on short legs, a 
 couple of inches lower, and said he would try these two himself 
 by-and-by. Of course, on Mr. Bedford's showing, the former 
 was powerful and fast enough to win the "Liverpool," while 
 the latter would carry a house all day, and never make a 
 mistake at the most awkward place. But the Major much 
 impressed Mr. Toms by reserving his judgment, and taking the 
 City man aside every now and then to point out, in a low voice, 
 the faults of the various animals shown. At last came the turn 
 of the chestnut cob. He looked well-bred ; his small head, 
 broad forehead, and large bright eyes betokened courage and 
 intelligence ; he had sloping shoulders, fine full quarters, and 
 capital legs. AVhen the lad trotted him out, the way he carried 
 himself and threw out his fore-legs at once pleased the Major 
 and fascinated Toms, who had never ridden anything over 
 fifteen hands in his life, and was rather frightened of a big 
 horse. Mr. Bedford himself, though a heavy man, rode the 
 cob over the fences, which were, of course, taken quite easil}'. 
 Then the Major suggested that he would like just to throw his 
 leg over. The cob squinted backAvards a little as the stranger 
 approached him and measured the length of the stirrups, but 
 stood quietly enough, and showed off just as well as when under 
 Mr. Bedford. 
 
 " What are you asking for him?" asked the Major, when he 
 brought the chestnut back to the group standing at the gate. 
 
 ** A hundred and twenty," replied that gentleman, without 
 any hesitation. 
 
 The Major looked into the cob's mouth — au operation the 
 
286 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 little auimal did not seem to like at all. But it was not his 
 business just then to point out to the dealer that the horse was 
 long past " mark of mouth," and that he Avas asking the full 
 price of a fresh five-year-old. 
 
 "Will you try him over the fences, Toms?" asked the 
 Major : "I think he will suit you exactly.'* 
 
 Mr. Throgmorton Toms did not like to show the white 
 feather, and he knew that if he intended to learn to ride he 
 must begin some time or another. So, after some hesitation, 
 he agreed. Major Hunt saw the drops of perspiration bursting 
 out on the poor little man's forehead, so he M'hispered, as Toms 
 settled himself in the saddle : " Don't try the gate and the 
 hurdle. Trot him round quietly, then canter at the bank, and 
 finish with the water. They are both very easy jumps. Sit 
 well back, and let him go his own pace." 
 
 Mr. Toms gave his friend a grateful look, and jogged off. 
 The cob shook his head, now feeling a very different hand on 
 the reins. But he trotted round the inner ring quietly enough, 
 and after a few turns Mr. Toms began to regain confidence. He 
 found that he could pull him up at any moment, and therefore 
 soon had no hesitation in putting him into a canter. Finding 
 his action easy and pleasant, he at last hardened his heart, and 
 rode at the Irish bank. It was easy enough to jump up, but in 
 jumping down again Mr. Toms was thrown forward and lost a 
 stirrup. He struggled to regain his seat and the stirrup, and 
 pulled violently at the curb in his efforts. The cob curved his 
 neck at the imusual strain, gave a buck, rolled his eyes till the 
 whites showed, and then put his head straight out and tore 
 away at full gallop towards the trench. At its brink he stopped 
 dead, as if shot, and Mr. Toms, not having yet regained his 
 seat, and there being nothing in front of him, went quietly to 
 grass over the cob's shoulder. *' Thank goodness," thought the 
 pony, "I've got rid of that fool, at all events," and trotted 
 calmly up to the gate, while Mr. Toms picked himself up, and 
 looked round rather dazed. 
 
 " No harm done ? " asked the Major, running up. " It's all 
 
_-^. 
 
 0) 
 
A DEAL. 287 
 
 right, old man," be continued, in a lower tone of voice, "j'ou'll 
 do very well now. You rode him at the bank capitally. Only 
 he's got a light mouth, and you pulled the curb too hard. I've 
 seen many a good man across country shot off by his horse 
 stopping dead," he added, louder. " It's the most uncomfort- 
 able thing going." 
 
 "You're right, sir," said Mr. Bedford, soothingly. "Very 
 few men can sit a horse when they expect him to jump and he 
 
 don't. But " And Mr. Bedford was just going to sa}' that 
 
 it was not the cob's fault, when he was stopped By a wink from 
 the Major. That gentleman then tried all three horses again, 
 looked them all over, punched their ribs, felt their legs, examined 
 their feet, and made passes over their ej^es. Finally the party 
 adjourned to the dining-room, where prices were discussed, and 
 Toms was delighted with the talent for driving a bargain dis- 
 played by the Major. He offered sixty for the cob, a hundred 
 for the black, and eighty for the bay, all these figures being 
 exactly half of what Mr. Bedford asked. " We may as well try 
 to get them cheap," whispered he to Toms. " Of course they 
 would be a gift at the money, but it's no use telling your outside 
 figure at first." Then there was more general talk, and the 
 Major drew Mr. Toms aside again. *' Shall I offer him three 
 hundred for the lot ? " he said, "I think he will take it." Mr. 
 Toms agreed, and the Major solemnly made the bid. 
 
 " Quite out of the question, sir," replied Bedford. *' Is that 
 your last word ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the Major. 
 
 " Well, sir," the dealer went on, " I'm sorry I can't sell you 
 the horses at the figure. The black stands me in a hundred and 
 fifty, and as to the bay, I could get that much for him at Tatter- 
 sail's. He's a wonderful handy horse, well known in the Burton 
 country. Never mind, gentlemen, if we can't deal, we can't. 
 Take another glass of sherry, sir," he added blandly to Toms. 
 " Just another drop, do ! Well, gentlemen, here's better luck 
 to you elsewhere. Perhaps I shall be able to suit you some 
 other day." 
 
288 
 
 FAIR DIANA 
 
 And this concluded the negotiation for that afternoon. But 
 on the way homo Toms had misgi\dngs. The Major had surely- 
 been too anxious to save a few pounds, and it might have been 
 better to spring a little. Nor did Hunt's conversation shake this 
 view. The gallant Major more than once expressed his regret 
 at not having been able to close, pointing out the difficulty of 
 obtaining exactly what they wanted in the very middle of the 
 hunting season. Before they reached Belgravia Mr. Toms had 
 made up his mind. He brought the Major in, and wrote a 
 cheque for three hundred and fifty pounds. " Try and get them 
 for that," he said, " and then let us look out for a couple of men 
 at once, and for another horse or two." 
 
 The acute reader will probably guess that as soon as Mr. 
 Toms' front door closed on him, the Major rushed to the nearest 
 telegraph office, and that ]Mr. Bedford received a brownish-yellow 
 envelope half an hour later. Next day the horses were trans- 
 ferred to a livery stable in the Brompton Road, while the Major's 
 pocket-book contained ten new and crisp five pound notes. 
 Another went to join this company after he and Mr. Toms had 
 spent an hour in selecting several handsome " best Kersey " 
 suits of clothing, and an infinite number of rugs, rollers, head 
 stalls, and other necessaries for a decent stud. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 "z'-- cS^4^^\''^ 
 
 the slightest 
 douht," said 
 Mr. Inkstoue, 
 when Ralph 
 had told his 
 story, '■' that 
 the late Sir 
 Henry Brans- 
 combe was not 
 himself when 
 he signed this 
 last will. We 
 
 have here another will, dated two years back, in which his pro- 
 perty is left in a verj^ different manner. Of course, the second 
 will is genuine ; Pickum and Bones, though they often do 
 things we should certainly disapprove, are not the men to lend 
 themselves to anything that is not perfectly legal as far as form 
 
 g03S." 
 
 *' Well," interrupted Ralph, " if you have no doubt that my 
 uncle was not in his right mind, let us say so and upset the will." 
 
 *' But, my young friend," replied the solicitor, " though we have 
 no doubt that Sir Henry was mentally unwell, and have also no 
 doubt that he was subject to undue influence from Mr. Toms, 
 our convictions are worthless. What we shall have to do is to 
 convince the judge and jury. Now, have we sufficient evidence 
 to do so ? I think not." 
 
 " We have not sufficient evidence now," answered Ralph, " but 
 
 we could obtain it." 
 
 u 
 
290 FAIll DIAXA. 
 
 "It is a difficult matter on wliicli to advise," said Mr. Ink- 
 stone, musingly, " but it is probably worth an attempt. We can 
 oppose probate, and meamvhile we can set to work to seek for 
 evidence, a matter, of course, in wliicli you and Mrs, Brans- 
 combe must assist. Mrs. Branscombe may possibly help us 
 very materially, for she lived with the testator up to the very 
 day of your marriage. But what do you propose to do while 
 the suit is being carried on ? However favourably things may 
 go, it will be a year at least — perhaps much longer — before 
 things are decided." 
 
 Ralph was calmer than he had been on the previous days, and 
 vrilling to take a sensible view of his affairs. After some discus- 
 sion it was agreed that Branscombe Hall should be advertised 
 to be let, furnished, that the horses should be sold, and that 
 Ealph and his wife should spend a few months at Brighton, or 
 some other convenient place easily accessible from London. It 
 was a severe wrench for him to agree to letting the Hall. To 
 see strangers installed in the home which he had, from his 
 earliest years, been taught to consider sacred to the name of 
 Branscombe, was harder for him to bear than the mere loss 
 of money. Had he been alone, or even with his father, he would 
 probably have been unable to make up his mind to the sacrifice. 
 But My. Inkstone was so sensible, and withal so kind, that he 
 reasoiied within himself on the folly of his sentimental objections, 
 and finally agreed to the lawyer's view. Knowing his weakness, 
 Mr. Inkstone promised to carry out all the necessary steps, to 
 place the matter in the hands of house agents, and to draw up a 
 proper advertisement. He dismissed Ealph for the day, telling 
 him to call next morning. In the interval he proposed sketch- 
 ing out the evidence which would be required from Ealph and 
 Diana. 
 
 Our hero had rather anticipated that he would be kept in 
 London a night at least, and was therefore prepared to spend the 
 afternoon and evening as best he might. His hotel was generally 
 Morley's, but v/hcn he went there he found no room, and was 
 obliged to seek quarters elsewhere. Then he proceeded to the 
 

 
 
 ^_^. ^©. 
 
 i r // 
 
DISAPrE AEAXCE. 291 
 
 Club, where lie met young PauU and other friends. The time 
 passed more pleasantly than he had expected, his thoughts were 
 diverted from domestic troubles, and when he called on ]Mr. Ink- 
 stone next morning he was in far better spirits, and looked 
 forward to the result of the trial with much hope. A very long 
 conference, at which an astute barrister was also present, was 
 satisfactory, and among other conclusions arrived at was the 
 necessity of at once finding out Mrs. Gore. Ealph did not know 
 her address, but promised to obtain it from his wife immediately. 
 The short winter's day was already declining when he drove to 
 the station on his homeward way. There was no carriage waiting 
 at Warboro', though he had asked Diana by telegraph to send 
 the dog-cart. Rather annoyed and puzzled at this unusual 
 omission, he got into the old creaking fly, and telling the driver 
 to look out for the trap in case he might meet it, he started for 
 the Hall. It was quite dark long before he arrived, and there 
 Avas nothing unusual in the appearance of the house. The first 
 thing he noticed on entering was a telegram lying on the table. 
 It was addressed to his wife. 
 
 " Where is your mistress ? " he said to old Priugle, the 
 butler. 
 
 " I don't know, sir," answered Pringle, and then looking at 
 him sharply, Ralph saw that he was pale and agitated. 
 
 "You don't know ? I suppose she is upstairs ? " 
 
 "No, sir; the mistress drove to Warboro' yesterday, and 
 the brougham came home without her. She gave orders, I 
 believe, that Wenham was to drive back ; she said she'd go to 
 Sir George's at the Rectory. We thought that you'd have gone 
 there, sir, to meet the mistress." 
 
 Mrs. Armit was summoned, but could give no further explana- 
 tion. The telegram was, of course, his own, giving directions 
 about the dog-cart. ■ Ralph at once ordered the latter round, and 
 started again for the town. It was the second time he had 
 gone to Warboro' in pursuit of his wife. He hoped that the 
 servant's plausible explanation of her absence was the true one, 
 but he felt a sickening doubt at his heart. Diana was not so 
 
 V 2 
 
292 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 much attached to his mother as to have rushed off to the Rectory 
 in such a hurry, aud hesides, Miss Nettlerash was stopping there, 
 as she well know. He hustled the horse — a wcll-hred baj'-, one 
 of those which had been bought by Boulter for Sir Henry's 
 riding, but had turned out better for harness than for hunting — 
 and in less than fifty minutes pulled up at the gate of the 
 Pvcctory, which was closed, showing that no one was expected. 
 
 "What a horrible thing to have to do ! " thought Ralph, as 
 the man opened the gate. " To go into my father's house and 
 ask whether my wife is there. Supposing she is not ! What a 
 beast I was to speak to her like that the other night ! " 
 
 When the little parlour-maid opened the door Ralph said : 
 
 " Is my father in? Then ask him quietly to come into the- 
 study. I will wait for him there." 
 
 For he knew that Miss Ncttlcrash and the whole party would, 
 at this time, bo enjoying high tea in the dining-room. But sharp 
 as the little parlour-maid was. Miss Janet's ears were sharj^er. 
 
 "Ralph come back?" she exclaimed, when the girl had 
 stooped down to deliver her message to the Rector in as low a. 
 Yoice as possible. " Ralph come ? Well, I think he might give 
 himself the trouble to say how-d'ye-do to his mother and aunt, 
 instead of disturbmg his father at his tea. I suppose Ralph is 
 too grand for tea. He is driving back to the Hall for eight 
 o'clock dinner, I expect. Ridiculous habit ! They dine at eight, 
 and eat a lot of unwholesome French dishes, and then they 
 j)oison themselves with tobacco, and go to bed with overloaded 
 stomachs ! " 
 
 During this tirade. Sir George was moving uneasily on his 
 chair. 
 
 *' Ralph has only looked in for a moment on business, I 
 suppose," he remarked, attempting to appear unconcerned. "I 
 daresay he just wants to leave a message and to get home. Go 
 on with your tea, dear," he said to his wife, rising, " I shall not 
 be long." 
 
 " Where is Diana ? " was Ralph's greeting, as his father 
 entered the study. 
 
DISAPPEARANCE. 293 
 
 "Diana? How should I know?" asked the astonished Rector. 
 
 *' Has she not been here, father ? " asked Ealpli with a sinkinpf 
 lieart. 
 
 "Certainly not, my boy," was the reply. "I have not seen 
 lier since I left the Hall the day before yesterday. Your mother 
 would have mentioned it if she had called to-day. I am sure she 
 has not been near the house. What is the matter ? " he added, 
 seeing a ghastly pallor overspread Ralph's face. 
 
 For some time the young man did not reply. He sank into 
 a chair, and covered his eyes with his hand. Sir George was 
 seriously alarmed. '" Shall I call your mother and enquire?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "No, father," said Ralph, "it is of no use. She has run 
 aAvay. Oh, my God ! I have driven her away. It is my fault 
 this time ! I have been a beast and a ruffian." 
 
 " Why, what have you done, Ralph ? " exclaimed the Rector, 
 almost doubting his son's sanity. " Tell me — vdiat is it ? " 
 
 Clergymen have much practice in the parts of father confessors. 
 The Rector had had the troubles of many a wild young man, 
 many an unhappy husband, and many a miserable wife, poured 
 into his ear ; and though not gifted with transcendent abilities, 
 his good heart and his sympathy endowed him with the power to 
 •soothe and to console, powers which are denied to him who, how- 
 ever clever, thinks only of himself and his own troubles. But 
 the Rector had never exercised his patience and his Christian 
 sympathy with so sore a heart as to-day, when, after much gentle 
 fatherly persuasion, Ralph poured out his story. 
 
 He began from the beginning, from his first meeting with 
 Colonel INIanuering, and before he had said much, the Rector 
 grasped his hand, and placed the other on his ghoulder, to give 
 him courage to proceed. 
 
 The sad tale was once interrupted by Lina, who burst in 
 saying, "Aunt Janet and mamma say, everything is getting 
 cold." But seeing Ralph's pale face she started back, and 
 was dismissed with so much firmness by her father, that she 
 returned almost awe-struck to the dininfj-room. 
 
294 K\IR DIANA. 
 
 *' Papa and Ralph have very important business to discuss," 
 she reported, " and they are not to be disturbed on any account 
 whatever." 
 
 Miss Nettlerash sniffed, and ventured to remark that in old- 
 fashioned times, when a father and son had important business, 
 the mother had a right to be present. But this sarcasm did not 
 stimulate Lady Brauscombe to invade her husband's sanctum. 
 She Imew what the contents of the will were, and supposed that 
 the conversation concerned them. 
 
 In the study, meanwhile, Ealph was slowly and with many 
 hesitations unburdening himself of all his domestic trouble. 
 When he had done, and when Sir George had asked a few 
 questions as gently as he could, both sat for some time in 
 silence. 
 
 " You think she has gone away to join him ? " asked the 
 Rector at last. 
 
 " Yes," replied Ralph, with a stifled sob. *' And she has had 
 thirty-six hours' start this time. It is a hopeless case." 
 
 ** No, Ralph," answered his father, *'I think you are wrong. 
 I know something of human nature, and I fancy I Imow Diana 
 pretty well. She has not gone to Colonel Mannering. She has 
 simply gone away from you, because she thinks you hate and 
 despise her." 
 
 -■=SS^-^r 
 
 '^^^t'y^^'.^"''' 
 
 *V»Vi 
 
CHAPTEK XXXVII. 
 
 MISS NETTLERASH GOES IN ANGEH. 
 
 INCE the open- 
 ing of the will, 
 Lady Brans- 
 combo had not 
 had v,liat the 
 Americans term 
 "a good time" 
 with her sister. 
 Sir George had 
 not confided its 
 contents to his 
 Avife until the 
 morning of 
 Ealph's visit, 
 and even then he advised her not to talk about the matter 
 more than she could help, as future proceedings might be 
 imperilled by gossip. Miss Nettlerash was never so nearly 
 beaten. Direct questions, indirect hints, remarks to the girls, 
 but intended for their mother's ears, were for a long time 
 tried in vain by the persevering lady. On that very after- 
 noon Miss Janet paid a round of visits in Warboro', and 
 devoted much time and attention to Mrs. Quayle, who, she 
 thought, was sure to know all about it, as she was the wife of 
 Sir Henry's doctor. Mrs. Quayle was willing enough to gratify 
 her visitor, and from her Miss Nettlerash ascertained that there 
 had been a free fight between Mr. Throgmorton Toms and Ealph, 
 the former having successfully intrigued to oust Ralph from his 
 just inheritance, and having behaved shamefully altogether. Mrs. 
 Quayle was, of course, a Branscombite, and though by no means a 
 
296 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 professional gossip, was not ill-satisfied that so important a person 
 as the new Lady Brauscombe's sister should come to her for 
 information. Provided with the most distorted and exaggerated 
 account of Ralph's grievances, and laiowing that her nephew was 
 practically disinherited, she appeared at tea ^Yith pursed-up lips 
 and a severe frown, which were meant to convey to her uncon- 
 scious sister and brother-in-law that she had obtained elsewhere 
 that information which they had so unjustly and rudely withheld. 
 Ralph arrived at the Rectory before she had exploded, for though 
 indiscreet enough, she was not so foolish as to pour out the 
 vials of her wrath before the servants. While he and his father 
 were closeted for two hours in the study she could no longer 
 contain herself, and gave her sister what she termed her frank 
 opinion. 
 
 "Mabel ! " she exclaimed, "I did not want to talk before the 
 children, but this is really too bad ! " 
 
 " What is too bad ? " asked Lady Branscombe, languidly. 
 *' This dreadful will, and all these mysterious goings on ! " 
 replied Miss Janet. "You have all of you conspired to keep 
 from your own sister information she has a right to possess. 
 
 Then Ralph comes in in the dead of the night " 
 
 "It was only six o'clock," urged Selina. 
 
 "Hold your tongue, girl ! " exclaimed Miss Nettlerash. "I 
 was speaking to your mother. It is no business of yours. She 
 
 is treating me in a manner which no sister " 
 
 " Janet ! " cried Lady Branscombe, " do moderate yourself." 
 " Moderate myself, indeed ! " repeated Miss Janet. " Do you 
 mean that I have lost my temper ? I have not done so. If your 
 conduct has been exposed before your children, it is j^our own 
 fault. But I shall say no more about all these mysterious comings 
 and goings, and about George having to leave his tea before he 
 had fairly begun, and being shut up with Ralph half the night ! 
 The chops were greasy enough when they were sent in, and what 
 they must be now, I shudder to think ! If I had a husband like 
 yours, Mabel, who goes away from meals in that absurd manner, 
 I would at least have a hot- water dish 1 " 
 
MISS NETTLEKASH GOES IN ANGER. 297 
 
 *' It would be a good plan, j)crbaps," assented Lady Brans- 
 combe, hoping that her sister's attack was now directed at 
 another and less important object. 
 
 Miss Nettlerash was silent for a few minutes, and devoted 
 herself to mending the traditional pair of black gloves. Then 
 she suddenly remarked, in a tone which was intended to convey 
 concentrated sarcasm — 
 
 " I hear that you and Ralph have not got sixpence." 
 She was horribly disappointed to find that this observation, 
 which was intended to have been a thunderbolt, fell perfectly 
 harmless. Lady Branscombe quickly looked up and placed her 
 linger to her lips. She was a woman of the world, and her 
 children were fairly well trained to obey her signals. Not a word 
 escaped their lips, though Regina had only just time to choke 
 back an " Oh, Aunt Janet ! " 
 
 Miss Nettlerash glared round the room. 
 
 " You seem to take it very easily, Mabel, to see your only son 
 disinherited ! " she at last said, " I call it an infamous shame ! 
 You are a most extraordinary mother ! Some would call you an 
 unnatural one ! " she added, with a renewed attempt at sarcasm. 
 " What would be the use of my jumping about and scream- 
 ing ?" asked Lady Branscombe. "Besides, I am not sure that 
 I have any reason for being put out at present." 
 
 Further discussion was stopped by Sir George, who came to 
 tell his wife that he was going back to the Hall with Ralph, and 
 would probably stop there for a day or two. Miss Nettlerash 
 was more put out than ever. Husband and wife left the room 
 without taking the slightest notice of her, and neither they nor 
 Ralph reappeared. 
 
 " It is shameful ! " she exclaimed. *' They are hiding things 
 from me, and take no more notice of me than if I were a chair 
 or a table. I shall go homo to-morrow." 
 
 In this wise resolution she was strengthened by the events of 
 next morning. Lady Branscombe did not appear at breakfast at 
 all, and when her sister kindly volunteered to go up to her room, 
 sent word that she did not feel equal to receiving any one. The 
 
298 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 bread was, in Miss Nettlerasli's opinion, ill-made and ■worse 
 baked. ^Mien she suggested tliat the baker should be changed, 
 Mary was impertinent, and Sclina sniggered. The girls were 
 noisy, and took far too much sugar in their tea. AYhen their 
 aunt said so, they laughed, and helped themselves to more. So 
 ill-conducted a household, which the father left on mysterious 
 errands, while the mother was locked up in her room, and neither 
 of them minded at the eldest son being cut olf with a shilling, 
 was no place for Miss Nettlerash. She had a good conscience. 
 She had not neglected her duty in the past, and she would not 
 do so in the future. She had spoken frankly to her sister, and 
 had pointed out that her children were not taught proper 
 manners, that her servants were careless and disrespectful, her 
 tradesmen a pack of swindlers, and that she and her family must 
 ultimately come to a bad end. These frank sisterly warnings had 
 been received with scorn, the sisterly help offered had been 
 rejected with contumely. Nay, more, she was treated like an 
 intrusive stranger, and information she had a right to was 
 studiously kept from her. It would be useless to remain longer. 
 She could not find out that they were doing anything for Ealph, 
 and there was no sympathetic soul in whom she could confide. 
 In fact, it began to dawn on Miss Nettlerash that she was being 
 calmly " sent to Coventry," as school-boys term it. She was 
 not the pcjson to put up with studied insult. She had suffered 
 much in the cause of abstention from tobacco and alcohol, and 
 more in her attempts to make her sister bring her children 
 up properly and keep house as she ought. She had suffered 
 from rudeness, from neglect, from ill-nature, and she was pre- 
 pared to suffer more, unto the bitter end. But she felt that a 
 line must be drawn somev/here. When her own lawful sister 
 (as she was fond of terming Lady Branscombc, as if doubts had 
 been cast on the validity of the marriage ceremony between the 
 late Mr. and Mrs. Nettlerash) refused to see her, and the girls 
 bolted in different directions like rabbits before breakfast was 
 over, when her brother-in-lav/ neglected the duties of his parish 
 and hospitality, and she was left alone in the cheerless drawing- 
 
MISS NETTLERASH GOES IN AXOER. 299 
 
 room, Y/liero a fire Wcas uot generally liglited till the afternoon, 
 she felt that she must put her foot down. It could no longer be 
 borne. She must go. But what worried her most about going 
 was, that there was no chance of seeing Ralph, nor of giving any- 
 one a bit of her mind before her departure. She sent Lady 
 Branscombe a message to inform her of her intentions, and the 
 answer merely was that " there was a very convenient train at 
 12'40, and Susan would order a fly." The servants were most 
 active in assisting her to iiack. Miss Nettlerash v.-as never 
 shabby in her gifts, but she must have been a veritable Pactolus 
 to make them put up with her nagging. 
 
 So at lunch-time there was general rejoicing, and Lady Brans- 
 combe re-appeared. For Miss Nettlerash had gone without an 
 opportunity of " speaking frankly " once more, and the whole 
 family were devoutly thankful. 
 
 The Hall had, meanwhile, been the scene of the most careful 
 investigation, which resulted in two discoveries. Diana had 
 taken her diamonds with her, and had left in the empty case a 
 tiny note addressed to Ralph. Its contents were merely : " These 
 are the only things I am taking ; they were my mother's. Do 
 not fear. I shall not disgrace you again." 
 
 The notion of suicide, which had disturbed Ralph's rest, was 
 thus excluded. Sir George pointed out that people who are 
 going to kill themselves do not take precious stones vrith them. 
 Their value was probably nearly a thousand pounds, and Diana 
 had evidently gone about her work in a business-lilce manner. 
 She had removed the diamonds from their cases so as not to 
 have any bulky parcel about her. Everything else in her room 
 was in its usual place. Enquiries made of the servants 
 proved that she had been driven to the Warboro' draper's, 
 and had sent the carriage home, saying she would go to the 
 Rectory. 
 
 The same day Ralph and his father went up to consult Mr. 
 Inkstone. Both of them felt that it Avould be useless to attempt 
 to conceal the circumstances of Diana's flight, which must become 
 notorious sooner or later ; but, as a great statesman once said 
 
300 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 about war, they preferred that it should be later. And they 
 were unwilling to make enquiries at Warboro' which they felt 
 themselves quite unfit to follow up. 
 
 Soon Mr. Inkstone appeared at the Hall with an elegantly 
 dressed companion,- a person whom most people would have put 
 down as a gentleman of means travelling for his ovra pleasure. 
 They would have been wrong. Mr. Inkstone's friend was Mr. 
 Paulovitch, the professional " Private Enquirer." The old- 
 fashioned lawyer had at first suggested Scotland-Yard ; but the 
 idea was most distasteful to his clients. Strangely enough, 
 they did not much believe in the new Department, and Pialph 
 strongly objected to the notion of his wife's doings being 
 canvassed even in the private room of the great Criminal 
 Investigator. 
 
 His self-reproaches during these days were keen and un- 
 ceasing. His father was not able to remove their sting without 
 blaming Diana, and any reflection on Diana made Pialph furious. 
 Until now, he had never known how great was his love for his 
 beautiful wife. Night after night he would wearily seek for rest 
 without finding it ; he would mourn over the irrevocable j)ast, 
 and would fancy that he would accept any terms, however hard, 
 so long as she were back under his roof. Occasionally he would 
 start up, unable to bear the burden of his bitter thoughts any 
 longer, and would march up and down the room with curses on 
 Colonel ]Mannering, on his own fate, and on his cruelty. For 
 neither his father's nor Mr. Inkstone's opinion, nor Diana's own 
 note, sufficed to remove his great fear — that she had gone to join 
 the Colonel. 
 
 Mr. Paulovitch industriously pursued his enquiries, Mrs. 
 Branscombe had left Warboro' by an afternoon train, having 
 taken a ticket to a junction down the line. Then all trace of 
 her was lost. The junction was a very lively place, and none of 
 the officials remembered to have seen a lady answering to the 
 description. Enquiries at the London termini were equally 
 fruitless, and though all jewellers and pawnbrokers were warned 
 to detain any person wishing to dispose of certain diamond 
 
MISS NETTLERASH GOES IN ANGER. 301 
 
 "brooches and necklets, or of loose diamonds, these steps only 
 resulted in a notorious burglar being handed over to the police, 
 and in two quite innocent persons being carefully followed up by 
 Mr. Paulovitch and his acolytes. Of course, the affair gradually 
 oozed out. In Ralph's presence the pleasant fiction was kept up 
 that Mrs. Branscombo was abroad for the benefit of her health, 
 but as the servants at the Hall knew of her flight, not a soul 
 within ten miles believed this tale. The rumour reached Silver- 
 stone, and Miss Nettlerash came over to investigate. She did not 
 go to the Eectory, but she inquired of Mrs. Quayle, Mrs. Forder, 
 and the tradesmen, and enjoyed the grim satisfaction of seeing her 
 worst forebodings verified. 
 
 In less than a fortnight Ralph knew that everyone knew all 
 about it, and his house became daily more intolerable to him. 
 A letter from his aunt, in which that lady did not allude 
 otherwise to what was now of public notoriety, but merely 
 invited him to stay at Silverstone as long as he liked, and 
 ofiered her assistance " in his troubles," was answered politely 
 enough, but of course in the negative. Mr. Snufi"box called, 
 and the first remark he made was, that he had not seen 
 Ralph out with the hounds. 
 
 "Of course not," said Ralph. *' Yvliy, my poor uncle has 
 scarcely been dead a month." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," answered Snuffbox. "Of course. A 
 good man the Bart. We shall miss him terribly. Five 'undred 
 he used to give to the Bankshire 'ounds. I suppose you'll sup- 
 port them, sir ? " 
 
 " I hope so," replied Ralph. " But I shall not be able to give 
 as much as my uncle." 
 
 " Of course not, of course not," assented Mr. Snuffbox. "I've 
 'card that the Bart has not left you as well off as he should. 
 We all think that the Bart ain't behaved quite right, and we are 
 Tery sorry, I'm sure." 
 
 " You're very kind," said Ralph, feeling as if he would kick 
 the little man if he said another word. But Mr. Snufi"box went 
 on — 
 
302 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " We are indeed, sir, vcay sorr}- for you in all your misfortunes.'* 
 And he grasped Ealpli's hand. "It's a terrible thing. Don't 
 be downcast over it. There's as good fish in the sea as ever 
 came out of it." 
 
 ""What do you mean?" asked Ealph, smiling sadly. "I'm 
 afraid I can't get another uncle." 
 
 " No, sir, no," assented Snuffbox, cheerily. " I'm afraid you 
 won't find another like Sir 'Enry. But the ladies, sir, the ladies. 
 There's a many a one would bo glad to marry you, sir, tho' you 
 ain't quite as rich as was expected, and though Mrs. Brans- 
 combe as was preferred the soldier ossifer. A fine man too, 
 I believe." 
 
 This Avas too much for Ralph. He did not care to enquire 
 Y,-hat version of the story had reached Snuft'box, but rising, said, 
 *' You must excuse me, Mr. Snuffbox, I'm very busy. Good 
 morning," and strode out of the room. The butler appeared 
 with sherry and cigars, and soon Snuft'box departed, thinking as 
 he rode down the avenue on his old chestnut, that grief must 
 have upset the young Squire's head. 
 
 Mr. Snuffbox was, however, not the only visitor. Ealph's old 
 friend, Egerton Paull, of whom he had seen little since his mar- 
 riage, came directly after Sir Henry's funeral to express his 
 sympathy. When Paull called again, a week later, the news of 
 Diana's flight was all over the place. Ralph was as cold and 
 reserved with him as with every one except his father. The 
 latter, however, met young Paull leaving the Hall, and begged 
 him to repeat his visit, for his friend's sake. The county mem- 
 ber's son was one of those kind, healthy, straight-forward 
 young Englishmen, whose pure lives have never been sullied 
 with an evil thought, still less with an evil deed. His father's^ 
 position and his happy home preserved him from many tempta- 
 tions, and his life had gone on smoothly and easily. But he was 
 a thoroughly good-hearted fellow, who had learnt sympathy with 
 others' griefs, though he had but few of his own, and whose very 
 eyes and voice claimed confidence. It was not long before 
 Puilph bc'];an to thaw a little when Paull came over to smoke a 
 
MISS NETTLEEASH GOES IN ANGER. .303 
 
 pipe with him, and one clay, when the young man tokl of the one 
 sorrow he had in his Hfe, the loss of a dearly-heloved sister, the 
 reserve at last broke down, and Ralph talked of his troubles, and 
 told his misfortunes. It was the day that Mr. Paulovitch had 
 reported how fruitless his efforts had been. 
 
 "It is of no use looking for her anywhere else," said Ralph, 
 bitterly, to his friend. " I know where she is." 
 
 " Where ? " asked Egerton. 
 
 "With that man, of course," replied Ralph. " I knew it all 
 along. The regiment is at Windsor, but he has now left it. He 
 is on staff employ somewhere in the West of England. Old 
 Inkstone and my father are as obstinate as they can be. If it 
 had not been for them, and that confounded fool Paulovitch, I 
 should have found them long ago." 
 
 Ralph was pacing up and down the room like a Avild beast 
 in a cage. His brows were knit fiercely, and his teeth closely 
 set. 
 
 " This horrible inaction ! " he went on after a pause. "It is 
 that which I cannot bear any longer. But for my father's 
 persuasion I should not have remained here doing nothing, while 
 he, that beast, that villain ." 
 
 Here Ralph broke down utterly, and only a few inarticulate 
 gasps and his clenched fist betokened what violent feelings were 
 agitating him. 
 
 " What shall you do ? " asked Egorton. 
 
 " I am going to find him," replied Ralph, still pacing the 
 room with short, rapid strides. " I shall start to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " Surely not alone ! " exclaimed his friend, alarmed at Ralph's 
 looks. For he was thin and worn, and his eyes glistened brightly 
 as he spoke, with a light in them that no one had ever seen 
 before. 
 
 " Not alone ? Why not ? Besides, who would come with 
 me ? " 
 
 " I will," answered Egerton, simply. 
 
 "You ? To be an accessory before the fact ? For I am going 
 
304 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 to kill him," said Ealpli, stopping before his friend, and grasping: 
 his shoulders. "I shall Idll him, do you understand me?" 
 He gripped Egerton's shoulders with a strength that would have 
 made a weaker man wince, while he gazed at him as furiously 
 as if it had been the Colonel who stood there. 
 
 "Never mind, old man," said Egerton, calmly. 'Til come 
 with you and see you through it. When do we start, and where 
 do we go first? Let's get Bradshaw." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVin. 
 
 A PAINFUL REVELATION. 
 
 NETTLERASH 
 
 much desired to 
 intervene actively 
 on behalf of her 
 nephew, to punish 
 his faithless wife, 
 and to restore to 
 him his lost inherit- 
 ance. She called 
 on Penner & Ink- 
 stone, whom she 
 had known for 
 years as the Brans- 
 combe family law- 
 yers. Mr. Inkstone received her very politely, and thought 
 that he was not going beyond the rules of professional discretion, 
 in hinting that Sir Henry's will would probably be attacked. 
 But Miss Nettlerash was not satisfied with the solicitor's 
 cautious answer. She settled herself in his room, and gave him 
 what she called *'a good talldng to," stating the reasons why 
 she was convinced that the late Baronet had not been in his 
 right mind, and recaj^itulating at great length, and with an 
 infinite number of digressions, all she knew of Ralph's life 
 before and after his marriage. Mr. Inkstone was at first quite 
 inattentive, and only anxious to get rid of his visitor as quickly 
 as possible ; yet, as she talked on, he found out that she knew 
 a great deal, and that the violence of her antipathy to Mrs. 
 Throgmorton Toms, and her inveterate habit of v.orming out all 
 
 X 
 
306 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 about everytliiug, might, if judiciously handled, turn out useful 
 in the prosecution of the case. In the mass of rubbish Miss 
 Nettlerash poured out there were a few grains of wheat, and 
 these the lawyer carefully noted. He dismissed her at last with 
 civil thanks for the trouble she had taken. She sniffed and 
 snorted out, "Who should take trouble for the poor boy, now 
 that his mother docs not care for his future, if not his own 
 lawful aunt? " l\Ir. lukstone assured her that he would 
 "communicate with her" as soon as there was the slightest 
 occasion to do so, and shut the door after her with a sigh 
 of relief. 
 
 But Miss Nettlerash's mind was very soon diverted from her 
 nephew's troubles to others nearer home. At Silvcrstonc she 
 found a telegram from jNIr. Dawson, informing her that his wife 
 was lying seriously ill at Cheltenham, where she had been 
 delivering a series of lectures on their usual subjects. Miss 
 Janet was nothing if she was not mobile. In an hour she and 
 Marian were in the train, and on this occasion her luggage was 
 reduced to exceptionally modest proportions. An old-fashioned 
 carpet-bag showing a huge bunch of faded roses on a green 
 ground on one side, and a bro^vn and white spaniel on a red 
 ground on the other, was all that time allowed her to pack, 
 although she left elaborate directions with Miss Smith to send 
 her other *' things" after her when necessary. 
 
 Poor INIrs. Mudbury Dawson was already given up by the 
 doctors when her patroness arrived. She had been lecturing 
 ao-ainst vaccination in a hot and crowded room, and had, it 
 appeared, caught cold on her walk back to the hotel through 
 melting snow and slush. Miss Nettlerash at once exclaimed : 
 *' How foolish of her ! How often have I told her to 
 change her stockings, whatever else she neglects ! " And 
 she raised her dress and her first woollen petticoat, and 
 produced a dry pair of stockings from her capacious inner 
 pocket even as she spoke. "There!" she cried flourishing 
 the grey hose triumphantly in the face of the medical man 
 who had been making his report to her : " Poor Mrs. 
 
A PAINFUL REVELATION. 307 
 
 Dawson ! If she had only followed my example this would not 
 have happened." 
 
 Miss Nettlerash however did more than flourish her grey stock- 
 ings in the doctor's face ; she did all that was possible to save 
 her friend's life, though in vain. In three days inflammation of 
 the lungs had cut off the energetic lecturer in the very heyday of 
 success, almost before the plaudits which had greeted her anti- 
 vaccination address had died out. The Rev. C. T. Mudbury 
 Dawson had sunk into absolute nothingness from the very day of 
 his wife's seizure. He wandered about in an aimless way, wait- 
 ing for orders which never came, anxious to obey instructions 
 which she who had always been his instructress could no longer 
 give. All the necessary arrangements were carried out by Miss 
 Janet, who did not allow her grief, great as it was, to interfere 
 with her economic and business-like views. Miss Smith arrived 
 to help her and to take charge of Marian, who was naturally less 
 affected by the death of her mother than she would have been by 
 that of her protectress. Miss Nettlerash attributed Mr. ]\Iud- 
 bury Dawson's utter prostration to his overwhelming afl'ection 
 for his late wife, and pitied him accordingly. After the funeral 
 he moaned and sobbed for hours, while she administered consola- 
 tion and sal-volatile. He did not seem to like either, and while 
 bitterly lamenting his loss he appeared to have no thought for 
 the future. So finally Miss Nettlerash brought the bereaved 
 husband back with her to Silverstone and installed him 
 in that best spare room which he and his wife had so often 
 occupied. 
 
 Of course when they were alone neither wine nor any other 
 intoxicating liquors were allowed in Miss Nettlerash's house. 
 Before she had made the acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. C. T. 
 Mudbury DaAvson INIiss Janet had occasionally taken a glass of 
 port ; but their lectures had converted her from temperance to 
 total abstinence. She was not however so benighted as to limit 
 her friends to water, tea, or ginger-beer. She would hold forth 
 on the dangers of alcoholic liquors, but there were always a good 
 bottle of old port and one of dry sherry on the table if she asked 
 
 X 2 
 
308 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 outsiders to luncli or dinner. IMr. Dawson was now allowed a 
 little port, for he informed her that the doctor had ordered him 
 to take it on account of his depressed condition. The Rev. 
 gentleman assured her that it was more horrible to him than a 
 nauseous drug, and no doubt it was owing to his habits of self- 
 control that he sipped his glass with apparent satisfaction. A 
 very few days after their return from Cheltenham Mr. Dawson 
 began to take afternoon walks. At first Miss Nottlcrash wished 
 Mariau to go with him *'for fear the poor man should do himself 
 some harm in his despair." But Mr. Dawson assured her that 
 he would rather go alone and commune with his thoughts ; that 
 on these wallcs the spirit of the dear departed was with him, and 
 that they did both his immortal soul and his perishable body 
 much good. ]\Ir. Dawson used to return from his expeditions 
 with muddy boots but with a comparatively cheerful face. 
 Occasionally he went straight up to his room, and then Miss 
 Nettlerash was anxious till she saw him in the drawing-room 
 before dinner. She was then reassured by the colour of his face, 
 which was less grey and pasty than in the morning, and by tho 
 cheerfulness of his talk. His voice would sometimes be choked 
 with emotion, but this was after all no more than natural in a 
 man who had just lost so perfect a helpmate as the late ]Mrs. 
 Dawson. 
 
 One evening Mr. Dawson did not join the ladies after dinner 
 as usual. INIiss Nettlerash was surprised, and v.hen the tea was 
 brought in she sent Marian to the dining-room. Mr. Dawson 
 was not in his usual place. The servants reported that he must 
 have gone out, as his hat was missing. His hostess became 
 more and more agitated as the evening wore on and the truant 
 did not appear. She sent Marian to bed at the usual time, at 
 half-past ten ; she told the servants not to remain up, as she her- 
 self would let ]\Ir. Dawson in. They obeyed, wondering, while 
 Miss Nettlerash could scarcely repress her anxiety, and was unable 
 to sit down to her knitting in her accustomed manner. What 
 could have become of him ? Had his despair at last conquered 
 his reason, and had he flung himself into the water in a moment 
 
A PAINFUL REVELATION. 3C9 
 
 of madness ? Visions of dragging all the neighbouring horsc- 
 pouds were before her mind. Should she send for the coachman 
 at once and institute a search ? Miss Nettlerash was only able 
 to refrain from this course of action by an instinctive feeling she 
 would scarcely admit to herself. She had noticed, or fancied she 
 had noticed, that all the servants, and more particularly the coach- 
 man, treated j\Ir. Dawson with scant civility, and were unwilling 
 to put themselves out on his account. She felt that it would be 
 an extraordinary thing to send to the stables after eleven o'clock 
 at night and rouse up the men to look for her clerical friend. 
 She was almost afraid of doing it. The coachman might say it 
 was no part of his duty, and refuse to be disturbed. What should 
 she do then ? She could not make him go, and she would look 
 such a goose before the rest of the household. So she resolved 
 to wait yet a little longer. 
 
 Her patience waB rewarded. The drawing-room door was ajar, 
 and just before twelve she heard the noise of some one trying the 
 handle of the house door. She went into the hall and listened, 
 for it might be a burglar. The old lady forgot that burglars do 
 not generally force their way into houses by noisily fumbling at 
 door-handles. The clumsy attempts continued, and then she 
 heard what sounded very much like a bad word. " That is not 
 Mr. Dawson !" thought she. *' Who can it be ? " At last the 
 late comer rang the bell, and Miss Nettlerash summoned up 
 courage to open the door. The gas had been turned out, so she 
 held one of the tall silver drawing-room candlesticks in one hand, 
 while she nervously pulled back the bolts and bars with the other. 
 She was slower over the chain than quite suited the gentleman 
 outside, for he rapped on the door with his fists, and said "Look 
 sharp, Susan, itsh' only me." 
 
 At last the chain hung loose, and the door flew back. It was, 
 indeed, the Eev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson. Though his hat was 
 on one side of his head, though his clerical waistcoat was un- 
 buttoned, and his nose lighted up with a ruddy hue which was 
 not that of health, she recognized him instantly. But he was 
 not so quick at recognizing her. Coming from the outer dark- 
 
310 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 ness to the light of the candle, which Miss Nettlerash held close 
 to his face, he still thought that it was Susan. 
 
 " You've heen devilish slow about door," he said, huskil3\ 
 " Hope ole woman shleep." Then he lurched forward into the 
 hall, and held out his hat for her to hang it up. 
 
 INIiss Nettlerash shut and bolted the door, pulled him by the 
 arm, and held the candle close to his swollen eyes, glaring at 
 him. 
 
 "What is the matter, Mr. Dawson?" she asked, astonished. 
 ** What brings you homo so late, and in such an extraordinary 
 condition ?" 
 
 "Oh!" said the reverend gentleman, " Itsh you, ish it? 
 Never mind, 'sh all right." And with these words he lui-ched 
 up to the hat pegs, and tried to divest himself of his overcoat, 
 and pull himself straight. 
 
 Still Miss Nettlerash could not make it out. " Come into the 
 drawing-room," she said ; "there is some tea left, and the kettle 
 is on the hob. What has haj^pened to you ? " 
 
 He obeyed, knocking over a hall chair and bumping against 
 the wall on his way. By the time he had reached the drawing- 
 room he had managed to button his waistcoat. 
 
 " Now what has happened ?" asked Miss Nettlerash. 
 
 " Noshing, noshing 'tall," answered Mr. Dawson. " Out for 
 walk." 
 
 " He is not well," thought Miss Nettlerash. "It is of no use 
 bothering him now. The poor man is a little queer in conse- 
 fjuence of his dreadful loss. Have some tea," she said 
 aloud. 
 
 Mr. Dawson was just sensible enough to accept the offer. He 
 sat up with preternatural stiffness till the tea was ready, and then 
 pulled his chair up to the table, for he mistrusted his power of 
 holding the cup. Its effect on him was curious, and not at all 
 what Miss Nettlerash expected. 
 
 "Itshall right, dear," he said, affectionately, when he had 
 drunk the tea. " Look here. Can't go on like this you know. 
 Itsh too shad, too shad." 
 
A TAINFUL EEVELATIOX. 311 
 
 INIiss Nettlerash stared. 
 
 " Too shad !" repeated Mr. Dawson, pulling a dirty bit of paper 
 out of liis pocket, under the impression that it was a handker- 
 chief, and elaborately wiping his eyes. " No wife, no noshing. 
 Wliatsh the use ?" 
 
 Miss Nettlerash saw that her supposition was correct. The 
 man was clearly still suffering agonies from his loss. 
 
 " Poor Mr. Dawson ! " she said, gently laying her hand on his 
 arm. But as she approached him, a queer disagreeable odour 
 met her nostrils — a smell like that of the bar of a public-house. 
 Mr. Dawson seized her hand. 
 
 " Poor fellow !" she went on, withdrawing it hastily. '' You 
 will get over it in time. She was indeed a great loss. But you 
 must submit to the decrees of Providence." 
 
 Mr. Dawson seemed to be much rejoiced at her sympathy. 
 ""Whats'h the oddsh ?" he asked. "Plenty more. Lotsh 
 women glad to marry Dawson. But no, no ! There'sh only one 
 woman I'll marry," he exclaimed, laying his hand on his 
 heart. 
 
 "You had better go to bed," suggested Miss Nettlerash, a 
 little alarmed, and finding the public-house smell growing- 
 stronger. 
 
 " Go to bed ?" exclaimed Mr. Dawson in a tone of decision. 
 " No. Won't go to bed yet. Lets'h have a jolly night of it. 
 Got some port wine ? Very good wine that ! Look 'ere, old 
 'oman, when ish it to come off?" 
 
 ""What?" asked Miss Nettlerash, now seriously frightened. 
 
 " What ? wedding, to be shure. When will you marry your 
 dear old Mudbury ? Nish home, good hubby, all you 
 want. Eh, old 'oman ? We know all about it." And he 
 attempted to look knowing, an attempt which resulted in a 
 horrible leer. 
 
 Then a most awful thing happened, a thing so awful that the 
 printer's ink almost blushes to relate it. The Kev. C. T. Mudbury 
 Dawson staggered up from his chair, and before Miss Nettlerash, 
 who was stricken motionless with amazement, could fly from him. 
 
312 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 threw liis arm rouucl her waist aud hnpressed a smacking kiss 
 on her virgin H])s. 
 
 Miss Janet screamed loud enough to waken the dead. Mr. 
 Dawson seemed scarcely disconcerted, aud went on, cheerfully. 
 "Soon get married, eh? Jolly wedding, lotsh champagne, no 
 more beashly lectures." 
 
 Miss Nettlerash bolted. On the landing stood Susan, with a 
 shawl thrown over her night dress, pale as a ghost, and holding 
 the bedroom candle all crooked. 
 
 *' Oh Susan, Susan ! " exclaimed Miss Nettlerash, " we must 
 send for a doctor. Mr. Dawson is quite mad. He is dreadfully 
 ill !" 
 
 " Mad ? ill ?" said Susan, recovering her composure. " Is 
 that all, mum ?" 
 
 " Why, what do you mean, Susan ?" 
 
 "He ain't ill at all, nor mad neither, mum. Look at him," 
 she added, as the two women saw him lurching towards the stairs, 
 muttering to himself. *' He is as drunk as a lord, that's 
 all." 
 
 " Drunk ? " asked Miss Nettlerash, horror struck. " Tipsy ?" 
 
 "Ay," said Susan, "tipsy. He's been tipsy nearly every 
 afternoon this week, and at night too, if he could get hold of any 
 liquor. Ask Mary, Miss, or the coachman, they'll tell you the 
 game. We've all seen it." 
 
 " It must have been the death of his wife !" said Miss Nettle- 
 rash. 
 
 "Well, he has been worse since," admitted Susan. " But he 
 used to get drunk before, when he got a chance. When you was 
 away. Miss, he used to get drunk 'most every night." 
 
 " Too horrible !" exclaimed Miss Nettlerash. " It cannot bo 
 true." 
 
 " Quite true, Miss, I can tell you. on my bible oath." 
 
 Meanwhile IMr. Dawson had collapsed on the stairs into a 
 mixed heap of clothes and humanity. 
 
 That was enough for the night. And next morning so much 
 evidence of the Kev. lecturer's habits was forthcoming that even 
 
A PAINFUL EEVELATION. 
 
 313 
 
 Miss Nettlerash was convinced. Mr. Inkstone was summoned, 
 and Mr. Dawson was expelled fi'om Silverstone, it being agreed 
 that he should receive ten pounds a month so long as he did not 
 annoy Miss Nettlerash nor his daughter. 
 
 What he looked like when he left the house may be left to the 
 imagination of the reader. 
 
 Miss Nettlerash settled a long unpaid score he had run up at 
 the Blue Lion, and one almost as long at each of the other local 
 public-houses. 
 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 PURSUIT. 
 
 "^ \ \, "^ ill * ' '-^f^f/y 
 
 IS not difficult 
 to discover the 
 whereabouts of 
 an officer in 
 H. M.'s Foot 
 Guards, even if 
 he is for a time 
 in staff employ. 
 Ralph knew 
 that Colonel 
 
 Mannering was under the orders of the General commanding at 
 Devonpoi"t, and Plymouth therefore was the first destination of 
 the two friends. The injured husband, having once decided 
 on calling the Colonel to account, was burning to carry his 
 plan into immediate execution, and wished to travel by the night 
 mail. But Egerton Paull, though willing to humour him to 
 some extent, positively refused to spend a night in the train 
 even to oblige Ralph. 
 
 "No, old man," he remarked, "I'll see you through it, and 
 hold the Colonel for you if he can't hold himself up when you 
 tackle him. I don't mind being Avhat you call an accessory 
 before the fact, but I'm blessed if I am going to lie awake all 
 night in a nasty, cold railway carriage. Look at the time we 
 reach Plymouth, too ! Half-past four in the morning. Absurd ! 
 You can't go and knock a man down at that unearthly hour." 
 
 "I'm not going to knock him down," replied Ralph, sternly, 
 and vexed at his friend's tone, which he considered frivolous. 
 " I'm going to shoot him like a dog." 
 Paull did not think it wise to contradict him. " Very well," 
 
PURSUIT. 315 
 
 he said, *' we will shoot him. But let us do so as much like 
 'gentlemen as we can." 
 
 " You don't call him a gentleman, do you ? " sneered Ealph. 
 
 " No ; hut I am one, and so are you. Seriously, you surely 
 do not want to get hehind a man and shoot him as he comes out 
 of his quarters ?" 
 
 " Not exactly," said Ealph, " though he fully dosorvcs it. 
 No. We must find some other way. I must discover Diana 
 first, and then thrash him to within an inch of his life. Then 
 we will go to Belgium somewhere, and I'll take what's left 
 of it." 
 
 " Very well, I do not mind that programme," replied Egerton 
 Paull. " But I won't go hy any train except the Flying 
 Dutchman." 
 
 Sir George was not quite aware of Ralph's ohject. The latter 
 of course knew that his father's cloth would suffice for him to 
 oppose violence of any sort hy any means in his power, and that 
 in such a case he would even invoke the assistance of the 
 police. And young Paull thought that on the whole Ralph was 
 right to follow the Colonel to the west. It was quite possible 
 that Diana might be with him. For of course Paull had had no 
 opportunity of observing her character, with the changes that 
 had recently come over it. He only knew that she had deceived 
 Ralph once, and had eloped with Colonel Mannering. He heard 
 that she had ap)parently repented, and Ralph had given him a 
 narrative of what he termed his own brutality. Therefore it 
 seemed logical to suppose that Diana, ha\-ing been repulsed by 
 her husband, and seeing no chance of regaining her former 
 status, had gone off for the second time, taking her measures 
 more carefully than before. This view was shared by Lady 
 Branscombe, and even Sir George was gradually being converted 
 to it. As to Ralph, he never had any doubts on the subject at 
 all. To find Colonel Mannering was to find Diana. To punish 
 the Colonel first and shoot him afterwards was the only object 
 he now had in life. He consented in an absent way to the 
 immediate measures of economy his father proposed, and quite 
 
'U6 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 agreed to let Branscombe Hall for a term of years. He directed 
 the horses to be sent to Tattersall's, maldng an exception only in ' 
 favour of Peterboro', liis uncle's favourite, and Peabody, bis own. 
 These Mere to go to the Rectory when the Hall was off their 
 hands. The Picctor was very anxious as to the result of his 
 son's journe}', which Ralph declared to be to Loudon only for 
 the present. But he had great confidence in Egerton Paull, 
 and implored the young man, with tears in his eyes, to take 
 great care of Ralph, and not to let him get into mischief. Paull 
 gave the required promise, though he felt that he could scarcely 
 keep it. For his friend's quarrel seemed to him a just one, and 
 the Divorce Court a poor place to fight it out. Ralph thought 
 that when an English gentleman is wounded in his honour, 
 money damages are a poor consolation, and to drag a wretched 
 woman through the Courts none at all. AVheu he loves that 
 woman, the remedy is worse than the disease. In such cases 
 his instinct prompts him to resort to the weapons of a less 
 civilised age ; his fists, a horsewhip, and finally pistols. A 
 mortal quarrel of this sort should be settled with as little 
 publicity as possible, and far more speedily and surely than by 
 the procedure of Courts. If the injured man fall, he has fallen 
 in a just cause, and besides, what remains for him to live for ? 
 Why should he fear death ? Let the seducer take his life also, 
 having taken that which was dearer to him than life. Then, at 
 any rate, he could marry Diana, for he, Ralph, would be out of 
 the way. 
 
 In all these thoughts, implicitly and indirectly conveyed, 
 rather than explicitly stated, Ralph found the fullest sympathy in 
 his friend. There was no half-heartedness about Paull, and an 
 immense pity overwhelmed him for the blighted life of the man 
 who sat next to him in the Plymouth express. There was no 
 way of alleviating the cloud which had fallen on him, except to 
 find Diana ; and yet Egerton admitted to himself that to find 
 her with the Colonel, to attain positive certainty of her faithless- 
 ness, would plunge Ralph into still deeper despair. Now, at any 
 rate, there was a glimmer of hope. She might be hiding some- 
 
PURSUIT. 317 
 
 where, and living quietly on the proceeds of her diamonds. It 
 seemed cruel to deprive the hushand of that one remaining ray 
 of light, to send him hack to brood on the absolute darkness of 
 a homeless, deserted future. Yet other men's wives had run away 
 from them, and they had been happy afterwards, and had applied 
 for a divorce, and had even married again, and had had children, 
 and were quite comfortable, and never thought of the months of 
 agony through which they had j)assed. 
 
 "Was Ralph such a man ? As Egerton Paull, protending to 
 sleep, watched the wan face and the open eyes of his friend, 
 staring wakefully at vacancy, he was fain to confess that the 
 blow had hit hard, and that recovery, though just possible, ap- 
 peared a very remote possibility. The " Flying Dutchman " did 
 not travel fast enough for Ralph's impatience, and neither news- 
 paper nor book diverted him for a single moment. As soon as 
 they reached their destination they drove to head -quarters, and 
 at once ascertained that the Colonel was in charge of a party 
 surveying somewhere between Torquay and Dartmouth. He was 
 stopping, they believed, at Paignton. Paignton is on the branch 
 line, and they had to go back to the junction, and change 
 carriages there, which involved a further delay, under which 
 Ralph fretted terribly. Paull could not persuade him to 
 eat anything, and when they reached Torquay and found that 
 the train went no further, it became impossible to control him. 
 It was also growing dusk, and though cold and exhausted with 
 the long journey, Ralph at once asked for a fly to Paignton. 
 "While it was being got ready a porter suggested the steam 
 launch, which, he said, was going to start at once, and would 
 take them across the bay to Paignton in far less time than a 
 carriage would occupy to drive round. Paull observed that it 
 was rough and squally, and that a steam launch was at best a 
 very inconvenient means of transit. But Ralph was in a hurry, 
 and carried his friend off to the stone j^ier, where, in the 
 gathering dusk, the fire of Puffing Billy could be seen glowing 
 brightly alongside. There was a Ivnot of people on the pier, and 
 the steam launch vras crov.xled with v/orkmen going bick to 
 
31 S FAIR DIANA. 
 
 Paignton, and fishermen returning to Brixliam. The tide was 
 running out swiftly, and the boat was moored securely fore and 
 aft to keep her steady. The friends step^ied on board, and in a 
 few minutes the skipper cried out, '* One turn ahead ! Slack 
 out ! " and the men payed the rope out through their hands as 
 the boat slowly moved off. *' Stand by, forrard ! Let go!" 
 shouted the skipper again, and the noose of the forward rope 
 was thrown off a bollard on the pier and splashed into the 
 water. " Half speed ahead ! Let go aft ! " was the next order. 
 Ralph stood on a seat near the stern, abstractedly watching the 
 process and the group on the pier, whose faces it was impossible 
 to make out in the gloaming. When the screw began to throb., 
 and the stern rope was cast off, there was a cry from that little 
 knot standing neSr the bollard. A man's leg was caught in the 
 bight of the rope, and when it was let go and swiftly flew off the 
 pier after the steamer, it carried him with it off his feet. For a 
 moment he was seen to hang in mid-air, and then plunged 
 head-foremost into the swirling water. Before it closed over 
 him the little steamer was a hundred yards from the pier. Then 
 the passengers saw a white line of foam, showing where the 
 rope was dragging the unfortunate man along, and there was a 
 shriek of horror. " Save him ! " cried one. " He is in the 
 bight of the rope ! " called out another. *' Get a boat," was the 
 suggestion of a third. But meanwhile the poor fellow was in 
 the black depths, hopelessly entangled in the rope, and though 
 the launch was stopped, she had dragged him a long way, and 
 there was no one ready to help. 
 
 "Have you a line?" shouted a clear strong voice. "Look 
 alive, man ! Give us hold, there ! '' 
 
 And someone stood up on the gunwale of the launch, threw 
 off his coat, took a turn round his arm with the line handed him, 
 and crying " Stand by the line, and haul in when I tell you," 
 jumped overboard. 
 
 For a moment nothing was seen. The water closed over the 
 last man as it had closed over the first. But then a cheer burst 
 from the pale lips of the anxious crowd, as two white sleeves 
 
PURSUIT. 319 
 
 were seen cleaving the water, and steering for the pier with 
 steady, powerful strokes. Though the swimmer was strong 
 and the distance was short, it seemed an eternity before he had 
 covered only a few yards. Then the white sleeves disappeared 
 again . 
 
 " He is sinking ! " called out someone. " Haul away at him," 
 
 " No, slack a hit there, my men ! " cried the skipper. " He 
 is diving for him. A real good man, too, though he looked 
 almost a gentleman." 
 
 In the excitement even PauU did not notice this cutting 
 remark. All his attention was riveted on the water, where 
 Balph was struggling gallantly to rescue the drowning man. 
 Paull was holding on to the line with a couple of the sailors ; 
 feeling it tauten, he made them pay out more, and after many 
 seconds, which seemed hours, at last a white sleeve again shone 
 out upon the black water, and a faint voice reached them. 
 
 The skipper was standing on the counter, looking out. 
 
 "Haul in, boys; haul away! " cried he, cheerfully. "He's 
 got him ! Haul away steady on the warp, as well." 
 
 Then they could see that one arm was thrown round the big 
 rope, while the other supported an indistinct and dripping mass. 
 A dozen forms jumped on the gunwale, and twenty brawny 
 arms were stretched out to help as the ropes came slowly on 
 board. 
 
 "Easy! " cried Ralph, in a faint voice. "Easy — his leg is 
 still in the rope ; take care you don't hurt him." 
 
 Paull was the first to drag his friend on board, while the men 
 relieved him of his burden. 
 
 " It was a close thing ! " said he, when he had regained his 
 breath a little. "I thought I should have to go. But I would 
 not go till I had killed that man," he added, as Paull offered 
 him a pull from his flask. " I believe God sent me that poor 
 fellow to save, just as an atonement before-hand. I was not 
 going to be drowned. I am more likely to be hanged." 
 
 " Don't talk like that, Ptalph," said Paull. " There are all 
 the fellows listenins;." 
 
320 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 And indeed the men were crowding round, each anxious lo 
 shake hands with the real gentleman, who was a good man never- 
 theless. But Ralph went on, 
 
 *' What about the poor fellow ? Paull, see if you can give 
 him some brandy. I believe he is quite insensible." 
 
 Three paces off the captain and some sailors were stooping 
 round the prostrate form of the rescued man. The furnace door 
 was open, and they were trpng to revive him by its warmth. 
 
 " Hold up his head, Egerton," said Ralph ; " I will try and 
 pour some brandy down. I've not drunk it all." 
 
 Egerton obeyed. He lifted the man's head, and the full 
 glare of the fire fell on his face. His eyes were closed, his 
 black moustache hung down limply, and blood was slowly 
 trickling from his nostrils. 
 
 " Good God ! " cried Ralph, staggering back. "It is 
 Mannering ! " 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 steam launch 
 was now along- 
 side the pier 
 again. Four 
 volunteers car- 
 ried the still 
 unconscious 
 Colonel ashore, 
 and Egerton 
 Paull, taking 
 ~ — - Ralph's arm, 
 
 helped him up the gangway, for he was in a sort of trance. 
 There was now no ohject in going on to Paignton. 
 
 "What shall wc do with the gentleman?" asked one of the 
 men, as he propped the Colonel up against a post. 
 
 " Bring him to the Royal Hotel," exclaimed Ralph, suddenly 
 waking up, " and hand those bags of ours ashore ; we sha'n't go 
 to Paignton to-night." 
 
 " Who will run for a doctor ? " asked Paull. A lad at once 
 offered to fetch one. 
 
 Then they carried Colonel jNIannering to the Royal, which is 
 scarcely a quarter of a mile from the pier-head, and the two 
 friends walked behind the hand-barrow on which they had laid 
 him. They did not speak to each other, although it was im- 
 possible for them to avoid answering the questions showered 
 on them from all sides. "Who saved him?" " Wlio is 
 it?" "How did he fall in?" "How was he got out?" 
 These and many more were asked and replied to, more or less 
 
322 FAIK DIANA. 
 
 correctl}', in the steadily increasing crowd which surrounded the 
 principal personages. 
 
 "VMien within a few yards of the Royal, Ralph at last spoke. 
 ** Tell them to take care of him, Egerton. We must not lose 
 him again, now I have fished him out of the sea." 
 
 Paull obeyed. "It is Colonel Mannering of the Engineers," 
 he said to the landlord, who met the procession at the door. 
 ** He has been in the water some time, and we want a warm 
 room for him immediate^." 
 
 Ralph insisted on standing by while the dripping garments 
 were removed from the still inanimate body, and would not 
 leave the room until the doctor had arrived and taken the case 
 energetically in hand. Even then Paull got him away with 
 difficulty, and only by calling his attention to the fact that he 
 was himself quite as wet as the man he had rescued, and left a 
 pool of water wherever he stood. 
 
 " Come and change your clothes, Ralph," said Egerton. 
 ** Don't be afraid, the poor fellow can't get away. I don't want 
 you to catch your death of cold yourself." 
 
 *' Yes, I am cold," said Ralph, shivering. "I did not notice 
 it before. I'll come now." But he could scarcely walk, and 
 required his friend's help to move. In dry clothes and before a 
 roaring fire, however, he soon regained his natural warmth. 
 
 " I wonder where she is," he said, after he had sent Paull to 
 enquire about the Colonel, and had received a favourable report. 
 " She'll come as soon as she hears of the accident." 
 
 ** If she is here at all," suggested Egerton. 
 
 "There is not much doubt of tliat,'' remarked Ralph, with a 
 bitter smile. " Had we not better send word to his lodgings at 
 Paignton ? She will come quickly enough when she hears that 
 her lover is half drowned, though she could not bear even the 
 sight of her husband." 
 
 ** Ralph, Ralph ! " exclaimed Egerton. " You do not mean 
 it. What would you say if / spoke like that ? Think, man, if 
 you have still the use of your brains, and be steady. Do you 
 not see the sign of a higher Power in to-day's event ? " 
 
RETRIBUTION. 323 
 
 ** Pooh ! " said Ealph, " as if God Almighty interfered in our 
 petty actions." 
 
 " Whether it be the direct intervention of Providence or not, 
 Pwilph, surely this is enough to make a fellow pause in his own 
 schemes and reflect on his actions. Eemember, you came here 
 to find the Colonel — and to Idll him ! " 
 
 "I was going to give the cur a thundering good horse- 
 whipping first, anyhow," observed Ralph. 
 
 " Yes ; having insulted and thrashed him first, you wanted to 
 shoot him afterwards. And while you were still in that frame 
 of mind you jumped into the water, and saved his life at the 
 peril of your own." 
 
 " I wish I had not," answered Ealph. *' I wish to Heaven I 
 had let him drown ! " 
 
 *' You do not, Ralph; you cannot look me calmly in the face 
 and say so. I am not a chapel-goer, and I don't jn-each religion, 
 but I cannot think over the last two hours without feeling a 
 conviction that Divine Mercy has intervened to prevent your 
 committing a deed you might have repented all your life." 
 
 "I should never repent shooting Mannering," answered 
 Ralph, still unconvinced, but less positive than he had been. 
 ** And look here, old man — I feel queer, somehow." 
 
 It was no wonder that he felt queer after the emotions of the 
 afternoon, and a quarter of an hour in the cold sea on a January 
 day. He simply fainted, and for the next hour the doctor was 
 almost as busy with him as with the Colonel. But by that time 
 both had revived. Ralph was soon able to eat a little dinner, 
 and Mannering, though very weak and exhausted, was steadily 
 improving, and had quite regained consciousness. Late in the 
 evening his servant arrived, and as the doctor did not wish the 
 patient to be disturbed, the man was sent into the sitting-room 
 the friends had secured. 
 
 "Are you Colonel Mannering's servant?" asked Ralph, 
 brusquely, when he was shown in. 
 
 " Yes, sir; I've brought the Colonel's things, sir, as I heard 
 of the accident." 
 
324 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 ** Does Mrs. — I mean, does tlie lady know ? Is she coming ? " 
 asked Ralph. His very life seemed to depend on the man's 
 answer. His head was eagerly thrust forward, and his lips 
 were parted as he watched the servant's face. It wore a jiuzzled 
 look. 
 
 *' Beg pardon, sir, hut who did you say, sir ? " 
 
 "Well, the lady," said Ralph, impatiently. 
 
 *' 1 don't know any lady, sir," answered the man. *' There 
 ain't BO lady, sir, harrin' Mrs. Brown, the one that lets apart- 
 ments. The Colonel ain't a married gentleman." 
 
 Ralph sank back in his chair. " That will do," said Egerton, 
 to the man. " Go and get some supper. The doctor will call 
 for you as soon as you may go in to j'our master." 
 
 " Well," he went on, as soon as the man had closed the 
 door behind him. " You see, Ralph, that your Avife is not with 
 him." 
 
 " That man proves nothing," answered Ralph. ** Very likely 
 she would not be living with him. Perhaps the blackguai'd 
 wants to keep things quiet. I shall soon find out all about it." 
 
 Egerton Paull had a hard fight to prevent Ralph from speak- 
 ing to the Colonel that night. He was obliged to appeal to the 
 doctor, and to obtain his explicit orders that the patient should 
 be kept quiet. " You would not go and kill him in his bed 
 after saving him, would you?" he asked. "You jumped into 
 the water like a hero to save a drowning fellow- creature. Don't 
 go and spoil it all now." And when he at last persuaded Ralph 
 to go to bed, and wished him good night, he pressed his hand 
 warmly. "Sleep on it, old man; and remember," he said, 
 solemnly, " ' Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.' " 
 
 Ralph soon dropped off into a dreamless sleep, the result of 
 absolute exhaustion, but not before he had had time to reflect. 
 For days, aye, for weeks he had dwelt on the scene in which he 
 intended to act the part of avenger. He had spent the hours 
 of the night and those of the day in thinking of the hideous 
 crime the Colonel had committed, and of the terrible punishment 
 he would mete out. The consequences had been to him of no 
 
RETRIBUTIOX. 325 
 
 importance ; the gi-cat aim and object of his now lonely life was 
 to smite the evil-doer. " An eye for an eye " had been his text. 
 Colonel Mannering had robbed him of his wife, of his happiness, 
 and of his honour, and no penalty would suffice short of dis- 
 gracing him publicly, and killing him afterwards. In one brief 
 hour everything had changed. He himself, the very man 
 whom the Colonel had most injured, had saved the life he had 
 come to take, and his intended victim was lying helpless in the 
 verj' next room. 
 
 Was it not strange, passing strange, that his arm should be 
 stayed when it was ajjout to smite in a just and righteous cause ? 
 But was the cause just and righteous ? 
 
 Over this puzzle he fell asleep, and the bright sun, which 
 shines at Torquay even in January, was streaming full into his 
 room when he awoke, with no worse consequences of his dip in 
 the sea than a painful stifihess in all his limbs. Paull came in 
 while he was dressing, and gave him good news of the Colonel. 
 The doctor said there was now nothing wrong, but that the 
 long immersion and cold had produced excessive weakness. He 
 recommended rest, simple food, and a warm room for two or 
 three days. 
 
 " Then I may see him ? " asked Ralph, eagerly. 
 
 "After breakfast," answered Paull. 
 
 *' Pooh ! Fancy talking of breakfast," replied Ralph. *' As 
 if I could eat any breakfast while I want to know where he has 
 hidden Diana." 
 
 *' I can, at any rate," said Paull, smiling, *' and I think he 
 can. In no case are you to see him till eleven o'clock. Such 
 are the doctor's orders." 
 
 Ralph was obliged to obey, but he certainly did not eat any 
 breakfast. He walked up and down the room impatiently till 
 the clock struck eleven. Then he could no longer be restrained, 
 though Egerton Paull implored him to be calm, fearful as he 
 was of a terrible scene. " Remember," he said, before he let 
 Ralph open the sick man's door, "he is weak and helpless. 
 You would be ashamed to bully him now, would you not ? " 
 
326 ' FAIR DIANA. 
 
 And, indeed, Colonel Mannering, prostrate in the bed, pale 
 and exhausted, was not the \actim whom Kalph in his fancies 
 had intended to horsewhip remorselessly. He stopped for a 
 moment, looking at the soldier, who slowly turned his head 
 towards the door, while a faint flush coloured his cheeks. 
 
 " Mr. Branscomhe," he murmured, attempting to raise him- 
 self, " I hear you saved me." 
 
 ** Colonel Mannering ! " exclaimed Kalph, striding up to the 
 bed, " where is my wife ? " 
 
 The Colonel looked at him in surprise. Ealph repeated the 
 question. 
 
 *' Your wife ? " he at last stammered : ** how should 
 I know ? " And he appeared genuinely startled at the 
 inquiry. 
 
 "Oh, don't be afraid, Colonel Mannering," said Kalph; "I 
 shall not hurt you. I don't hit a man when he is down. But 
 you know Avhere she is, and you will have to tell me. You ran 
 away with her, you know ! " 
 
 Again a blush rose to the sick man's face. " Yes," he 
 murmured, " I know it well enough. You need not remind 
 me." 
 
 "Well, then, where is she?" exclaimed Kalph, roughly. 
 ** What have you done with her ? " 
 
 " Why you took her back yourself, ever so long ago ! " And 
 the Colonel looked at Paull, as if doubting whether Kalph were 
 in his right senses. The young man thought it was time to 
 interfere. 
 
 " Colonel Mannering," he said, " Mrs. Branscomhe left her 
 home secretly, some weeks ago, and has not since been heard 
 of. Kightly or wrongly, Mr. Kalph Branscomhe thinks that you 
 know where she is. You owe your life to him, and you arc 
 bound to tell him the truth." 
 
 " Loft her home ? Gone away ? " asked Mannering, amazed. 
 
 "Yes; don't prevaricate!" said Kalph. "Tell me where 
 she is." 
 
 " Be quiet, Kalph, for a moment," interposed Egerton ; 
 
RETRIBUTION. 327 
 
 ** don't you sec that he knows nothing about it ? Give him time 
 to think, at any rate ; he is still half drownctl." 
 
 The Colonel raised himself on one arm. " I begin to under- 
 stand," he said ; " you think that she has run away with me 
 again." 
 
 Kalph nodded. 
 
 " No," the Colonel continued, " not again. Upon my honour, 
 I know nothing of this. I have not seen Mrs. Branscombe since 
 that night — you know." 
 
 " Ay," said Ralph, bitterly, " I remember. But what of 
 your honour ? Do you think I am fool enough to take your 
 word of honour ? " The sick man's face flushed. 
 
 *' Ralph," exclaimed Egerton, '* remember the Colonel' 
 condition." 
 
 **He is right," said the Colonel; "he has every reason to 
 doubt my honour. I did not think that I should ever lie quiet, 
 and say it served me right, if a man told me to my face that he 
 did not believe my word. But I tried to rob Mr. Branscombe of 
 his wife — and God laiows I loved her — and then I hit him from 
 behind, like a cur that I was ! But the thought of losing her 
 maddened me. May Heaven forgive me ! " 
 
 Then the handsome, brave Colonel Mannering, whose noble 
 ways and martial bearing had made so many tender hearts 
 flutter, and whose soldierly appearance and well-knit figure were 
 the envy even of the men, burst into tears, like a weak woman, 
 before him whom he had injured, and who had saved his life to 
 punish him. 
 
 Even Ralph was moved, while Egerton Paull gave up any 
 attempt at coldness. 
 
 "Do not be agitated. Colonel Mannering; calm yourself. I 
 for one believe you, and Branscombe, I am sure, will not doubt 
 you any longer. Only be calm, and tell us what you know." 
 
 The Colonel gradually recovered. " Mr. Branscombe," he 
 said, raising himself on one arm, and attempting to be firm, 
 ** you have a right to disbelieve me. You may consider me a 
 liar and a sneak ; I have lost the right to feel insulted, and the 
 
328 FAIR DIAXA. 
 
 power to avenge it. I oamiot even sit up to speak to you. I 
 have done my worst to make your life miserable, and to ruin 
 your home. But God knows," and he raised his weak right 
 hand solemnly, *' that I am guiltless of this crime ! I have 
 nothing to tell you that you do not know." 
 
 " Have you not written to Mrs. Branscombe nor seen her since 
 — since that night '? " asked Ralph. 
 
 The Colonel had sunk back exhausted. 
 
 '* I wrote to her once, two days afterwards, to the place where 
 I used to write before — before that night. The letter came 
 back in a week, unopened. I can show it j'ou. Please will you 
 open that dressing-case ? the key is on my watch-chain." 
 
 Egerton soon found the letter with its various postmarks. 
 ** That," the Colonel said, " was the last letter I ever wrote to 
 her. In it I told her that I bitterly repented my conduct to 
 you in the train. I made a lame attempt to justify myself. 
 You may read it, if you please. But she has never read it, of 
 that I am sure. Soon afterwards, I heard of Sir Henry's death. 
 I have not had a line from iMrs. Branscombe, nor have I seen 
 her since, as sure as there is a God ! " 
 
 And with this sacred oath on his lips, he fell back on his 
 pillow. They had to call the doctor in to revive him, but no 
 doubt now remained even on Ralph's mind. Diana had not gone 
 back to her old lover. 
 
 Before they left Torquay they saw Colonel Manncring once 
 more. "Mr. Branscombe," said the soldier, " my passion for 
 her maddened me, and I committed an act I have repented ever 
 since. I was ready to forget duty and honour for the sake of 
 obtaining what I thought was the one prize worth living for. I 
 broke the laws of hospitality, and I treacherously persuaded her 
 to fly from 3'our roof. Then, in my frenzied fear of losing the 
 prize which was within my grasp, I attacked you like a garotter, 
 and tried to kill you. All in vain ; I did not gain her, and my 
 conscience tells me that I behaved in a manner totally unworthy 
 of an officer and a gentleman. But I have conquered my mad 
 passion. You will find her again — and believe me, you will find 
 
RETRIBUTION. 
 
 329 
 
 her — perhaps hidden in some remote place, perhaps in poverty, 
 but still proud, pure, and noble, and more worthy of your love 
 than ever." 
 
 Ealph was going without more than a formal "Good morning," 
 but the Colonel called him back, 
 
 " You saved my life at the peril of your own the other day," 
 said he, " and I have not even thanked you." 
 
 "Don't," remarked Ralph, briefly. 
 
 " But I must, and I do, from the bottom of my heart. Look 
 at me, Branscombe. If ever there was a repentant sinner, I am 
 he. Will you ever forgive me for what I have done ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I will when I have found her. Good-bye, Colonel 
 Mannerinfr." 
 
 J /tOAK ItfiiHi oAA' )Kc ColtTHfisI^mg^^'^i^* 
 
CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 FOUND. 
 
 731 
 
 ■=^lr 
 
 
 Ljv-2<cfe^ 
 
 MONTHS of 
 early sprint^ 
 were spent by 
 Mr. Throg- 
 morton Toms 
 in Lis mid- 
 land retreat. 
 They were 
 not months 
 of pure glad- 
 ness to the 
 ex - financier, 
 for he did 
 
 ' "" not make 
 
 such rapid progress as he expected in the noble sports he had 
 chosen. Notwithstanding all Major Hunt's instructions he was 
 unable to repress a certain nervousness when riding at a fence, 
 and the nervousness somehow communicated itself to his horses, 
 so that many refused with him that went straight enough under 
 the Major. And a couple of falls he got with Sir S. Scantlebury's 
 staghounds when he ventured to ride behind that flying pack, 
 sent him back to the Beechley in the ploughed fields and the 
 woodlands, where he could potter and cofieehouse to his heart's 
 content. It was not the love of hound nor of fox nor of horse 
 which had brought Toms to Drayton, but merely ambition, and 
 this ambition he thought would be just as easily gratified by 
 chatting at covert-side as by jumping oxers and galloping over 
 big fields. In driving, he was more fortunate, and was soon able 
 to tool a pair of spanking bays along the smooth roads round 
 
FOUND. Sol 
 
 Drayton with some certainty and more assurance. Before Easter 
 the Major had got a team together for him, and the Httle man 
 gradually gave up hunting in favour of driving lessons, which he 
 considered less dangerous. His horses, his money, and Major 
 Hunt's glib tongue had gained him many acquaintances whom 
 he termed friends. Besides small fry there Avere among them a 
 Lord Riversfield, the impecunious descendant of a long line of 
 illustrious ancestors, and Mr.Colney, the wealthy American specu- 
 lator, who had brought his pretty wife to Drayton, and hunted 
 at a respectful distance behind her. So, as the spring advanced, 
 Mr. Toms began to see the results of his lessons and the 
 objects of his ambition becoming gradually nearer. But on the 
 other hand his increasing satisfaction was moderated by the news 
 he obtained from town. Penner & Inkstone were really going 
 to fight the will, and a big law-suit Avas imminent. Pickum, 
 Bones & Co. assured him that they had no doubt as to the result, 
 but he had to answer questions which were inconvenient even when 
 asked in the privacy of their office, and which he felt would be 
 horribly disagreeable in a public court. He had to recall every 
 detail of the late Sir Henry's instructions to him, and to repeat 
 these details to his lawyers. He was warned not to mention 
 certain circumstances Avliich he would have liked to forget, and 
 to rememl)er others which in his heart of hearts he confessed 
 had never occurred. When the will was propounded he knew 
 that it might be attacked, and yet the attack, when it was really 
 threatened, was quite as terrifying as if it had been unexpected. 
 Still he bore up bravely, secure in his steady and careful obser- 
 vation of all legal formalities throughout all his transactions with 
 the late Sir Henry Branscombe. And it really appeared as if 
 Penner & Inkstone were fighting a hopeless case. Ealph and 
 his wife having been abroad, evidence as to Sir Henry's mental 
 inability was most difficult to obtain. Mrs. Gore was not to be 
 found, and without her the lawyers despaired. Mr. Paulovitch 
 had long since given up the game, and Ptalph was prosecuting a 
 fruitless search for his wife with the help of Egerton Paull. 
 
332 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 Notwithstanding Toms' anxiety, however, he (letermined o^ 
 driving the Bkie Light coach to Hardwick twice a week during 
 the season. 
 
 Meanwhile the apostacy of the Rev. C. T. Mudhury Dawson 
 had thrown a gloom over the house at Silverstone. Poor Marian 
 was to all intents and purposes an orphan, her drunken father 
 heing quite unfit to take care of her, and though she had a friend 
 and mother in ]\Iiss Nettlerash, the collapse of that lady's ideal 
 had not improved her temper, and the young girl was very un- 
 happy. After a few w^eeks ]Miss Janet herself hegan to think 
 that things were ver}^ dull. She had no more lectures to attend, 
 and she had lost her faith in the apostles of new doctrines. 
 There seemed to he nothing more to do for Ralph, as the lawyers 
 had told her that her evidence would not he material. AVith her 
 sister she was not on the hest of terms, and Warhoro' had no 
 new gossip. Sir George and her nephew appeared to have sunk 
 into an abject state of inactivity, — action, in IMiss Nettlcrash's 
 mind, consisting of rapid railway journeys and the packing and 
 unpacking of carpet-hags. Even the Middlesex Club was dull ; 
 there were no rows and the secretary was polite. In short, there 
 was no more excitement, and JNIiss Nettlerash was wretched 
 without it. So one morning Marian was startled and pleased by 
 the following announcement : 
 
 "Marian dear, you don't look VtX'll. I feel dull too, with all 
 these sad losses. I think a trip abroad would do us good. I've 
 decided that you and I and INIiss Smith will go to the Continent 
 for three months. I've never been out of England, and I should 
 like to see France and Germany before I'm too old to travel." 
 
 Of course the scheme was much applauded by the gn'l and her 
 governess, and soon the house was crowded with trunks and 
 noisy with the noise of packing. The horses Avere easily disposed 
 of by being turned into loose boxes for a rest, the cellar locked 
 up, the servants put on board wages, and the furniture covered 
 with holland. Miss Nettlcrash's packages were varied in size 
 and infinite in number, but space and a regard for our reader's 
 
FOUND. 33:> 
 
 patience forbicl us to tell of her difficulties at foreign custom- 
 houses, of her quarrels with the railway officials, and of the sums 
 she paid away for over-weight. She started with ample funds 
 and plenty of good introductions ; for though not exactly an attrac- 
 tive woman she was undoubtedly a respectable one, and most of her 
 friends were glad to recommend her to any one they knew abroad, 
 if only to speed her on her way and get rid of her for a few 
 months. 
 
 It was the middle of ]\Iay when ihcy reached Vienna, which 
 Miss Nettlerash liad decided was to he the most distant point of 
 herjournc}'. She had been strongly advised to visit the capital 
 of Austria, which, fine as it always is, never looks more beautiful 
 than at this particular season, before the hot sun has converted 
 its wide streets into miniature Saharas, and before its inhabitants 
 have all fled to the lovely green hills which surround it. On the 
 whole, the party hnd had a successful tour. After the first week, 
 which witnessed a succession of battles between Miss Nettlerash 
 and all the persons with whom she came in contact, matters had 
 gradually quieted. Miss Nettlerash in fact began to pride herself 
 on the continental ways she had acquired. She chattered unin- 
 telligible French, and stammered Anglo-German with a persist- 
 ence which extorted admiration if it did not ensure her being 
 understood, and she was a more determined and indefatigable 
 sight- seer than Marian herself, though the latter possessed all 
 the freshness of extreme youth. At Vienna they lodged in the 
 Grand Hotel, and after presenting their letters of introduction 
 visited the galleries and churches, and were in due course invited 
 to a dinner. Their Viennese friends being anxious to show all 
 the civility they could to the old lady, enquired whether there 
 was anything particular they wished to see, in which they could 
 assist. 
 
 ''You are very kind," said Miss Nettlerash. "My niece (for 
 Marian was always thus called) is very anxious to see the 
 Empress. But I understand from Sir Andrew Buchanan that Her 
 Majesty does not grant audiences unless people have been pre- 
 
334 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 seutcd at Court in London, so I am afraid she will have to give 
 it up." 
 
 *' It is difficult," said their host. 
 
 ** You can see the Empress every morning in the Freudenau," 
 suggested the son of the house, in good English. ** She rides 
 from six to seven with Miss Lascelles." 
 
 *' If you can get up so early and drive there you will see her 
 well," said the host. 
 
 "Indeed?" asked Miss Nettlcrash, "and can we get near her?" 
 
 " Oh yes !" replied the young man, " only you must not use 
 an opera glass. There is a regular steeplechase course laid out 
 there, and any one can go, only they don't get up early enough. 
 The Empress tries her horses over the fences." 
 
 " Oh do let us go, Aunt Janet," exclaimed Marian, *' I should 
 so like to see the Empress riding." 
 
 Miss Nettlerash said she did not object, as their host's son 
 volunteered to escort them, so an open carriage was ordered for 
 half-past five on the following morning. The Freudenau is a 
 line park-like portion of the Prater, Avhere the race meetings are 
 held. It is three miles from the city, and therefore free from 
 crowds at any time, and absolutely deserted at that early hour. 
 When they reached it they saw no one at all, except two grooms 
 on well-bred horses, and a couple of mounted policemen. With 
 them the young man had a little conversation, which ended in 
 his handing them a bit of paper which looked suspiciously like a 
 five florin note. AVlien the guardians of the peace were convinced 
 that the party were not social democrats nor political spies, the 
 carriage was allowed to draw up near one of the hurdles. After 
 a short time two figures on horseback emerged from a row of 
 stabling in the distance, followed by several others. The latter 
 group soon stopped, but the two came on at a sharp trot, and 
 were seen to be ladies. Both were mounted on high-bred 
 English hunters : both were tall and dark. The leading one, 
 however, was much the younger of the two. She was, like her 
 companion, dressed in a plain hunting-habit and a low- crowned 
 

 
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 w^Kt*" 
 
 :; 
 
 \|9^S(< 
 
 0) 
 
 ' ^^X"^ 
 
 
 
 ^VvAii' 
 
 V 
 
FOUND. 335 
 
 man's hat, but unlike her companion, she kept looking back. 
 Before they reached the hurdles she pulled up. 
 
 " The older lady behind is the Empress," said the young 
 Viennese. 
 
 "Who is the other ?" inquired Miss Nettlerash. 
 
 *' That is Miss Lascelles, the English riding mistress. She 
 has only been here a few months, and used to teach at the 
 manege, but the Empress has taken a great fancy to her, and she 
 rides Antli her every morning and trains the young horses for 
 hunting." 
 
 " I wish they would come nearer," exclaimed Marian ; ** I can't 
 see the Empress' face a bit." 
 
 " Patience, Fraiilein,'.' said the young man ; *' Her Majesty is 
 giving her orders. See, they are turning round to have a run 
 at the jump." 
 
 "Look at Miss Lascelles," the young Viennese went on. 
 " She is very pretty, but all the admiration of the young nobility 
 is wasted on her. She won't take any notice of the best of them, 
 and refuses even bouquets. Here they come ! " 
 
 Down they came at the hurdles, the English girl in front. 
 Her Majesty was evidently on a young one, and wanted a lead. 
 When within twenty yards of the carriage Miss Lascelles chir- 
 rupped to her horse, who gave a great bound and cleared the 
 hurdle with a foot to spare, while his rider never moved on the 
 saddle. Marian was watching the Empress, whose horse tried 
 to swerve, but was forced over by firm hands and a judicious dig 
 with the spur. 
 
 " Oh ! how beautiful she is. Aunt Janet, and a grandmother, 
 too ! Look how she rides !" 
 
 But Miss Nettlerash's eyes were fixed on the other figure, who 
 was now cantering away on the smooth turf. Her face seemed 
 turned to stone. " My dear !" she at last exclaimed, " Did you 
 see Miss Lascelles ?" 
 
 " Yes, Aunt," answered Marian. " ^^^ly ?" 
 
 " Well ? Don't you know her ?" 
 
33 G FAIR DIANA. 
 
 " No, Aunt Janet, how should I? She is very handsome, but 
 I have never seen her before." 
 
 "Why child," almost shrieked Miss Janet, gripping Marian's 
 arm tightly, " "V\1iere are your eyes?" Then she whispered, 
 hoarsely, *'It is Ralph's wife. It is Diana Branscombe." 
 
 *' Surely you are mistaken ? " suggested Marian, whose first 
 thought was that her white lie on the subject of her visit to the 
 Hall must now be discovered. 
 
 " No ! I was never more certain of anything in my life. I 
 should like to see them once more," she said aloud to their 
 cicerone. 
 
 This was arranged by the coachman driving quickty across the 
 course, so as to meet the pair at the bend for home. They passed 
 at full gallop, Miss Lascelles being on the inside and therefore 
 nearest the carriage. 
 
 " Now do you see ? " asked Miss Nettlerash. 
 
 *' I suppose it is," replied Marian, staring. 
 
 " Suppose ? you stupid child, of course it is," replied Miss 
 Nettlerash, who then gave the order for home, but almost forgot 
 to thank the young man for his politeness. Before he was well 
 out of the hotel, having wished the ladies a good appetite for 
 breakfast, Miss Nettlerash had written a telegram. 
 
 From To 
 
 JANET NETTLEEASH, 1 EALPII BEANSCOMBE, 
 Grand Hotel. I?ranscombe Hall, 
 
 Vienna. I Wakboeo', Englaxi>, 
 
 *' I have found her. Come instantly. Say nothing." 
 
 On the next morning but one Miss Nettlerash rose at five 
 and drove off by herself. She would not allow anyone to ac- 
 company her to the station. The train from Calais was due 
 at six. 
 
 *' Where is she ? " was Ralph's instant question as he jumped 
 out of the carriage. He looked a different man again. There 
 
FOUND. 337 
 
 Avas a liglifc in his eyes, and a spring in liis gait, which none had 
 seen for months. 
 
 Miss Nettlerash told him what she had seen and ascertained, 
 little more than the reader already knows. The only additional 
 information she had gained in the interval, through the hotel 
 commissionaire, who knows everything, and if he docs not, will 
 find it out, was that Miss Lascelles lived with an English lady, 
 lier companion, received no one, and scarcely ever Avent out 
 except to give her lessons. 
 
 *' Now you must be careful, Ealph," said Miss Xettlerash, 
 when she had told her tale. " If she suspects that you are here, 
 she will run away again. You must take her by surprise. You 
 must get in under an assumed name." 
 
 " But how ? What name ? " asked Ralph. 
 
 The old lady reflected for a few minutes, while they were being 
 driven to the hotel. Then she spoke. 
 
 " You can talk German, can't you, Ralph '?" 
 
 "Fairly well," replied he. 
 
 "Well then, I will give you old Aronsen's card. He is my 
 banker, and won't be any the wiser, and if he does, I should not 
 mind. Write on it in German, * to consult Friiulein Lascelles 
 about riding lessons for my daughter.' That will disarm sus- 
 picion. She won't receive any young man, I hear." 
 
 " I should think not, indeed," exclaimed Ralph. 
 
 Miss Nettlerash shruf:(ged her shoulders. " Well, she seems 
 to have behaved very well here, at any rate. I have not been 
 able to discover anything at all against her." 
 
 If ]Miss Nettlerash could not find out anything against a 
 woman, that woman's life must indeed be blameless. So much 
 Ralph knew, and was satisfied for the present. He had to wait 
 till late in the morning before he walked off, with a beating heai-t 
 and Mr. Aronsen's card in his pocket. 
 
 Miss Nettlerash directed him to " Burggasse 21, S^ci' Stock," 
 a large house close to the Imperial stables, divided, like all 
 Vienna houses, into flats. On a door was fastened a card, with 
 the words: "Miss Lascelles, LeUrerin dcr Ilolum Sehule.'* 
 
33S FAIR DIANA. 
 
 Ho raiiir with trembliusc hands, and no one answered the boll for 
 some time. He rang again, and while waiting observed a small 
 grating in the door, such as is very often used in Vienna. It 
 enables people inside to see who the visitor is before opening the 
 door. Ealph quickly guessed its use, and stood sideways, with 
 his back towards it. At last some one came, and a voice asked 
 in German through the grating, " Who is there ?" 
 
 "Hcrr Aronsen," answered Ralph, also in German, and as 
 lirmly as ho could, " about riding lessons for my daughter." 
 
 The door was opened, and scarcely was it ajar before Ralph 
 had placed his foot inside. It was well he did so, for the person 
 who answered the bell was no other than INIrs. Gore. 
 
 "Mr. Branscombe !" she exclaimed, in great surprise. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Gore, it is I." He pushed his way in and quickly 
 shut the door. " I have come to fetch my wife." 
 
 " You can't come in. She won't let you. I must go and tell 
 her," stammered Mrs. Gore, anxious and irresolute. 
 
 " No, you must not tell her ! Mrs. Gore, dear IMrs. Gore," 
 cried Ralph, quickly. " It has all been a dreadful mistake. I 
 have come to fetch her home. We have both been wrong all 
 through. I love her most dearly, and I have come to bring 
 her back just as if nothing had ever happened. Let me go 
 in." 
 
 " I can't, indeed," said Mrs. Gore, retreating to cover the 
 entrance into the inner room. " You must not come in." 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked a voice from inside, which sent 
 all Ralph's blood coursing through his veins at a gallop. "Who 
 arc you talking English to, dear ? " 
 
 And a figure clad in some soft dark stuff appeared from the 
 sitting-room. Her small head was bent slightly forward as she 
 opened the door ; those great black eyes looked an inquiry, and 
 die slipped into the ante-room quite unconsciously. 
 
 " Ralph ! " she suddenly exclaimed, stopping as if petrified. 
 
 In this nineteenth century it is of course absurd for a man to 
 throw himself at a woman's feet. Even figuratively it cannot bo 
 tolerated. But regardless of good form and of the hard parquet. 
 
FOUND. 339 
 
 full only of liis great woe, Ralph sprang forward and knelt down 
 before bis wife. Seizing ber band, be exclaimed : 
 
 " Diana, darling ! I have come for you ! I love you more 
 tban my life, more than I ever did. Come back to me, dearest, 
 and forgive me the biirsh words I uttered ; I did not mean 
 tbem." 
 
 He kissed ber bands passionately. Diana was startled out of 
 ber pride and out of ber resolves. He went on : 
 
 " I liave looked for you, oli so wearily, ever since you went 
 away ! I bave not slept for thinking of you, and I have no home 
 without you. ]\Iy life is blasted for want of my beautiful wife. I 
 know you are still good and pure ; come back, dearest, come back 
 to me ! " 
 
 " I am not worthy of you, Pialpb, dear," she said, gently, stoop- 
 ing to him. " Get up. I am not good enough for you to kneel 
 to me. I was a bad wife to you, and you are better without me. 
 I shall only be in your way." 
 
 " ]My life is an abomination to me without you," cried. Ralph, 
 rising. " My darling, my darling, do you not Imow yet bow I 
 love you ? Do not turn away, dearest ; you have something to 
 forgive, for I drove you away by my harsh words. Come back to 
 me now and let us forget all. I can do nothing, I can think of 
 nothing, but of you and you only." 
 
 Then at last the barriers of pride broke down, and Diana's icy 
 reserve melted before Ralph's warm kisses. She burst into tears 
 and fell unresistingly into his arms. 
 
 " If you will take me, I will come," she sobbed out. " Oh 
 Ralph, bow wicked I have been not to appreciate such a love as- 
 
 yours." 
 
 * « * * * 
 
 "Ralph, darling," whispered Diana, an hour later, when be 
 left to go and announce his success to Miss Nettlerasb, *' Ralph, 
 darling ! I have loved you ever since that dreadful night. 1 
 shall never even care to look at any one else." 
 
 * * * •"- « 
 
 It was not easy for Diana to obtain the Empress' permission to 
 
140 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 leave Vienna, and at one time the pair tbouglit that it would be 
 necessarj' to fly secretl}'. Miss Nettlerash, who had been the 
 instrument of restoring Ralph s happiness to him, was over- 
 whelmed with affection by both. She and Marian returned to 
 England long before the needful leave of absence had been granted. 
 But at last it was obtained, and the happy pair started very 
 leisurely on their homeward journey. 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 
 BLUE LIGHT 
 
 Coacli, which 
 runs three 
 times a week 
 from Picca- 
 dilly to Hard- 
 wick and 
 back, changes 
 horses at 
 Silvcrstone. 
 The Blue 
 Light is, per- 
 haps, not 
 quite as fashionable as the Brighton Wonder, but after Mr. 
 Throgmorton Toms was persuaded to take it up it made a 
 great stride forward. Major HuDt selected some very good 
 teams, and the total distance of thirty miles was divided 
 into four stages, so that none of them should have too 
 much work. It was on the 1st of June that the Blue Light 
 began its season, and for some days Major Hunt handled 
 the ribbons, of which Mr. Toms took charge occasionally for 
 a mile or two on the level. But after a week or so Mr. Toms, 
 wdiose circle of fashionable acquaintances was rapidly increasing, 
 noticed that some of his swell friends did not. take very kindly 
 to the Major, of whom they probably knew too much. This 
 supposition, which became a certainty on the occasion of Mrs. 
 Throgmorton Toms' first grand dinner party, made the little; 
 
342 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 City man very anxious to dispense with tlie constant presence 
 of his adviser. In her own drawing-room Mrs. Toms had heard 
 so much ahout the Major's past life from her friendly gossips, 
 that she was still more desirous than her husband of kicking 
 down the ladder which had helped them up. Mr. Toms now 
 felt pretty sure of his driving powers, but he had the best 
 reasons in the world not to quai'rel with the gallant Irishman. 
 He wished still to employ him as a sort of superior stud-groom, 
 but no longer to have him continually at his side as an intimate 
 friend. Major Hunt was quite sharp enough to see something 
 of what was in the little man's mind, and jNIajor Hunt was far 
 too much a "man of the world" to remain where he was not 
 wanted. He had quite as cogent reasons as Toms himself for 
 wishing to avoid a rupture, and it was a matter of comparative 
 indifference to him whether he increased his income by sitting 
 on the box of a smart coach or by taking literally a *' back seat." 
 Therefore, when, towards the middle of June, Mr. Toms 
 announced his intention of intrusting the ribbons to Lord 
 Kiversfield, the Major made no objection, and when the little 
 owner took charge of them himself on the next journey, while 
 Lady Eiversfield occupied the seat of honour, and his lordship 
 sat directly behind them, the Major also acquiesced, and even 
 alleged an important engagement in town so as to give his patron 
 ample elbow-room. 
 
 Now the inn where they changed horses at Silverstone was 
 in the High Street, at its intersection with South Street. 
 Coming up the latter you stop at the " Rake and Rabbithutch," 
 where it widens out and becomes the North Road; it also 
 becomes steeper, and the last bit, before you come to the bridge 
 over the Ooze, is very steep indeed. On the other side of the 
 bridge the road takes a sharp turn to the right, following the 
 beautiful green valley of the river. To the left is Miss Nettle- 
 rash's lawn, sloping gently up to her old-fashioned red-brick 
 house ; to the right is the Ooze, and on the other side of the 
 Ooze the quaint old town of Silverstone, which has not yet 
 
THE END. 343 
 
 become suburban bare, wbere it is most remote from Loiulon. 
 It is a pretty drive, and at tbis portion of it tbose wbo do 
 not know tbe route ])oint out to eacb otber tbe red-tiled roofs 
 of tbe town, tbe windings of tbe river below tbe weed-grown 
 old-fasbioned back gardens, and tbe massive grey tovvors of tbe 
 abbey wbicb crown tbe slope. 
 
 On tbis "Wednesday tbe Blue Ligbt cbanged borscs at tbe 
 " Rake and Rabbitbutcb " as usual. Mr. Toms was a little 
 tired of driving, but be did not like to say so. Tbe lirst team 
 of greys out of town bad given bim a job tbrougb Islington, 
 and tbougb tbe bays wbicb came next did not pull so bard, and 
 tbougb tbe country road was a deligbtful cbange after tbe crowded 
 streets, be felt ratber wear3\ }3ut be did not like to give up 
 his place. So far be bad got on capitally witb Lady Riversfield, 
 wbom bis Avife bad particularly cbarged bim to please, and be 
 was beginning to Avisli to please lier on bis own account as well, 
 for slie was an attractive and still bandsome woman. If he wave 
 up the reins, it must be to his lordship, and Lady Riversfield, 
 who for financial reasons of her husband's, also wished to please 
 Mr. Toms, made a most fascinating little grimace when Toms 
 suggested this, and archly asked him whether he was tired of 
 her ■? He was not at all tired of her, but he was horribly tired 
 of driving, and ielt that he must have something to restore bim, 
 or give up. So be indulged in tbe, to bim, most unusual luxury 
 of a pint of champagne in a pewter, while her ladvsbip sipped a 
 little out of a wineglass, and the other passengers took various 
 ^' nips " in the six minutes allowed them. When the wine was 
 drunk, and all was ready, Mr. Toms felt quite strong again, and 
 took hold of the hot browns he now had in hand with fresh 
 courage. He was obliged to walk them through the narrow 
 High Street, which was crowded with carts, for it was market 
 day, and for some distance a couple of careful ostlers, wbo had 
 not very much confidence in Mr. Toms' driving, kept up with 
 the coach. As soon as he was clear of the carts, however, he 
 let them break into a trot, and from the trot the>' broke into a 
 
344 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 canter, which he soon felt he woukl he unable to control long. The 
 hill was steep, and the break did not prevent the fresh browns 
 going faster than he at all liked. He tried to pull up altogether, 
 but the attempt was a failure. He would have rejoiced now if 
 Lord Riversfield had taken the ribbons, but his lordship was 
 deep in conversation with pretty jNIrs. Colney by his side, and 
 it would not do to interrupt the only lord he knew in an incipient 
 flirtation. The well-bred horses were rattling down the hill at 
 a pace which might not have been dangerous for an experienced 
 and powerful coachman, but was likely to lead to mischief with 
 so inexperienced and so slight a man on the box as our City 
 friend. In two minutes the bridge was reached, and Toms 
 felt that once round the corner he should get on all right on the 
 smooth road up the valley. But there was a string of carts 
 coming towards the bridge on that smooth valley road. Some- 
 one blew the horn, and they slowly drew to the left — far too 
 slowly, as is the wont of agricultural drivers. The horses 
 galloped over the bridge and swung round sharp into the 
 accustomed track. But it was not yet clear ; they turned more 
 sharply than the driver wished, and the box of the off fore 
 wheel locked itself between the great heavy spokes of the leading 
 cart. There was a loud crash of breaking timbers ; the leaders 
 reared uj), while the Avheelers plunged wildly forward in their 
 endeavours to pull the coach through the unwonted obstacle. 
 Then the passengers seemed to be swinging rapidly through the 
 air, and the coach went over on its side wdth a loud thud. 
 
 The screams of the women and the yells of the men soon 
 brought a crowd round them. The noise was so great that even 
 Miss Xettlerash heard it. Marian and her governess rushed out 
 first and opened the little wicket-gate. Miss Janet and her 
 maid hobbled down the lawn to see what had happened ; the 
 coachman and his ljcl})or rushed out of the stable-yard by a 
 short cut, and climbed the fence in their hurry. Some of the 
 men were picking up the passengers, most of whom were more 
 frightened and dirty than hurt. Lady Riversfield was helped 
 
THE END. 345 
 
 out of the ditch, with no more serious injury than a eoat of mud. 
 Mrs. Cohiey had bruised her arm and torn her smart costume- 
 Lord PdversfiekT was shaken, and bleeding from a cut on his 
 hand. The others were more or less knocked about, covered 
 with dirt, and torn ; but there seemed to be no serious case until 
 one of the grooms asked whether anyone "had seen the 
 governor? " After a short search, poor little Toms was found in 
 the bottom of the ditch, quite unconscious. There were marks 
 of blood on his head, his coat-sleeve was ripped up, and his hat, 
 complete!}^ smashed, lay on the inside of the fence. 
 
 " Bring that gentleman in at once," cried Miss Nettlerash, 
 from her side of the gate, for she had not ventured into the 
 crowd. " Bring in anyone that is hurt ! " 
 
 Mv. Toms was soon picked up, two sturdy fellows supporting 
 his little bodv while another took charf>'e of his short legs. 
 None of the other men would accept the offer. After a little 
 while spent in examining their hurts they all declared that they 
 could walk back to the " Hake and Rabbithutch," and get their 
 wants attended to. The two ladies, however, spent a short half- 
 hour in Miss Nettlerash' s bed-room, and, with Marian's assist- 
 ance, repaired damages. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " exclaimed Miss Nettlerash, when she 
 approached the wounded man, who was laid on the spare bed, 
 the Eden from which ^Ir. C. T. Mudbury Dawson had been 
 driven, "it is that wicked little Mr. Toms! Oh dear, oh dear! 
 who would have thought that I should have to cherish the 
 serpent in my bosom ! " 
 
 Miss Janet, of course, spoke figuratively. The spare bed, 
 with its French spring mattress, did duty for her bosom, and 
 did it very well. But the poor lady felt the position as acutely 
 us if she were really obliged to embrace 'Mr. Toms and recall 
 him to life by maidenly kisses. She sent for the nearest doctor 
 at once, Avhile her maid administered the usual restoratives, 
 which were at first quite without result. 
 
 Dr. Pyburn found the women all excited and useless, and had 
 
346 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 to call in the coacliman to liclp him. Some time elapsed before 
 the door of the spare room again opened, and ]Miss Nettlerash 
 spent the interval in deep reflection. Her sudden- excitement 
 had apparently subsided, but the incessant motion of her hands, 
 and the nervous way in which she nodded her head when- 
 ever she heard a sound, betraj'cd that her mind v.'as hard at 
 work. ^lariau, Miss Smith, and the maid were busy with the 
 ladies, who were now quite ready to go away, and onl}'- waited 
 for decency's sake, as Lady Eivcrsfield said, to hear the doctor's 
 verdict. 
 
 At last he came out of the room, and was met by Miss Nettle- 
 rash on the stairs. 
 
 "You had better send for his wife, if the gentleman is 
 married," said Dr. Py'Durn, who was not very fond of 'SUhh 
 Ncttlcrash, for her crusades on behalf of hydropathy and all new 
 medical or empirical fancies had made her a terror to regular 
 liractitioners. 
 
 "Is he ver}^ bad? is he dying?" gasped Miss Nettlerash. 
 
 Dr. Pyburn was far more frank than he would have been to 
 average old ladies, and replied, 
 
 ** He is not in a hopeless condition, but no one can toll what 
 turn things may take. He has broken two ribs, he has concussion 
 of the brain, and probably some internal injury." 
 
 "How dreadful ! " exclaimed Miss Janet, while Marian, v>ho 
 had crept up in her l)lack dress, listened horror-struck. " It is 
 ji judgment on him ! " 
 
 "I do not pretend to know that," the doctor went on. "I 
 have nothing to do with judgments. Send for his wife, and I 
 will telegraph for a professional nurse. "What is the gentleman's 
 3iame ? " 
 
 " Must he stop here, then?" asked Miss Nettlerash. 
 
 " Certainly," replied the doctor. " It would be simply fatal 
 to move him. You must keep him till he gets better, or — dies," 
 he added, rather roughly. 
 
 This was indeed a sore trial to the poor lady, who had taken 
 
THE E\D. 347 
 
 Ptalpli's cause far more to heart than even Ralph himself. She 
 hated Mr. Toms with a hatred far surpassing the hatred of men. 
 To her he represented the emhodiment of all that was worldl}', 
 false, vile, and cruel. Her disappointment in regard to Mr. 
 €. T. ?kludhury Dawson had been great, and all the love she 
 had cherished for that clergyman, with much more, was now 
 turned into a more natural channel, and was lavished on Ralph. 
 Those who injured Ralph were her enemies ; those who loved 
 him were her friends. And now she was obliged to offer hos- 
 pitality to the man \\ho had so cruelly injured her nephew, and 
 not only ordinary hospitalitj^, but devoted attention and nursing, 
 and all the trouble which is trying enough even for those who 
 love their patients. But although her ideas of duty were some- 
 times peculiar, she had no hesitation to-day. Of course the man 
 must remain there, and she would do all she could to save him. 
 The work before her was thoroughly distasteful, but who was she 
 to quarrel with the Divine decrees ? Perhaps it was all for her 
 good, and that of those she loved ; perhaps she was the instru- 
 ment specially selected to lead this wretched man back into the 
 right path. Who could tell ? At any rate she would do her 
 duty. 
 
 The ladies departed Avitli many conventional expressions of 
 sorrow. A telegram was sent to Mrs. Throgmorton Toms, and 
 everything was done that could be done. The fashionable wife 
 arrived, and proved herself once more a woman of the world. 
 She made no exaggerated display of grief, but she behaved 
 exactly as a distressed wife in the higher circles ought to do. 
 She Avas gently and sorrowfully thankful to Miss Nettlerash ; 
 she was polite and grateful to the servants and the governess ; 
 she was cool and sensible with the doctor. She suggested a 
 consultation with Sir Davenport Harley, and she telegraphed to 
 liim at once, but she did not forget to summon Major Hunt, so 
 that the necessary orders might be given as to horses, carriages, 
 contemplated social plans, and all the other worldly duties which 
 had been so rudely interrupted by the morning's accident. 
 
348 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 Miss Xettlerasli and ]\rariiin calculated that Ralph and Diana 
 would now be on their homeward journey, somewhere in Switzer- 
 land. The necessary telegrams Avere dispatched. Sir Davenport 
 Harley's opinion agreed with that of his provincial colleague : 
 Mr. Toms was verj- seriously hurt, and time only would show 
 whether he would recover from his injuries. Major Hunt came and 
 went away again, and the nurse was installed in a little dressing- 
 room adjoining the invalid's chamber, while the " bachelor's 
 room " was arranged for Mrs. Toms. The sick man gradually 
 regained consciousness, and in a couple of days they knew that 
 though he might not ultimately recover, yet he was not likely 
 to die immediately. So gradually matters resumed their regular 
 course. Miss Nettlerash was more silent that she had ever 
 been. She scarcely noticed what she ate and drank, she did not 
 worry about the linen and the dairy, and she went to no 
 meetings. Mr. Dawson's behaviour had disgusted her with the 
 Anti-Tobacco League, and she neglected the Anti-Vaccination 
 Society. She spoke in monosyllables, and appeared quite 
 absorbed in her thoughts. Instead of the tracts against tobacco, 
 and the books about new medical discoveries which had been her 
 favourite reading, she now spent most of her time over the 
 Bible. But she, Avho used to ask more questions than any other 
 human- being, now grew quite irritable if she was herself asked 
 any. Once ]Marian suggested that she seemed dull, and ought 
 not to be so much alone. 
 
 " I am looking for advice and help where I ought to look ! " 
 she answered. "I don't want to see any one. I have my 
 adviser here," and she slapped her open Bible with a vigour 
 which made her bugles tingle. 
 
 Miss Nettlerash made it her duty, if not her pleasure, to visit 
 tJie sick man's room at least twice a day. Mr. Toms was soon 
 informed of his whereabouts, and as he had always looked on 
 Miss Nettlerash as a harmless, though somewhat tiresome, 
 lunatic, he did not mind her coming in to inquire after his 
 progress. In fact, after a few days he felt as grateful to her as 
 
THE END. 349 
 
 he could feel to any one. T>r. Pyl)um did not like her, hut lie 
 told his patient that he owed his life to her care, and ]\Irs, Toms 
 said that the house was all that could he desired. Everythinfj: 
 Avas neat and clean and quiet ; the servants were attentive, and 
 no single one of the numerous wants of a sick room was ever 
 iinsupplied. So it soon became quite the usual thing that Miss 
 Nettlerash should come in, ask Mr. Toms how he felt this 
 morning, and sit down for a minute or two. She would then 
 contemplate the sick man, glaring through her spectacles at the 
 bandaged head and the livid face of the once rosy Toms, the 
 pillows, and the physic bottles. If she noticed any tendency to 
 fidget, she would approach him, and alter the position of the 
 pillows very gently and very tenderly, or would pour out for 
 him and administer a spoonful of some medicine, but she never 
 talked. Her remarks were very brief, and absolutely confined to 
 the matter in hand. " Could you manage a little beef-tea ? " or 
 *' Was the lemonade right ? " or, again, " I will send you another 
 coverlet," were the limits of her conversation. 
 
 About a week after the accident Mrs. Toms announced that 
 she was going to town for the day. Her husband was now out 
 of immediate danger. Miss Nettlerash knew, though jMrs. 
 Toms did not, that his ultimate recovery was no more probable 
 than before ; but there was no likelihood of a catastrophe. Mrs. 
 Throgmorton Toms had many duties to perform in town, and 
 felt that she could safely leave her husband in Miss Nettlerash's 
 care. Hitherto she had sat in his room all the morning 
 working, reading, or writing, and ready to attend to his wants 
 while the nurse slept. Miss Nettlerash seemed much pleased 
 with Mis. Toms' announcement, and assured her that the invalid 
 should be well looked after, and should not be alone for a minute. 
 In fact, the old lady was livelier and more herself than she had 
 been for some time. She placed the greys at ]\Irs. Toms' dis- 
 posal, and heaved a sigh of relief when the carriage had turned 
 out of the gate into the London road. A few minutes later she was 
 sitting in an arm-chair in the sick-room, her si^ectacles on her 
 
350 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 nose, and her knitting lying on licr lap. Mr. Toms had been 
 " made comfortable for the da}'," as the nurse expressed it, and 
 was no longer obliged to lie flat in bed. He was bolstered up by 
 a complicated apparatus and a number of pillows, and was able 
 occasionally to read a few lines of the morning paper. But no 
 more than a few lines. He soon dropped it, and every now and 
 then a groan of pain would escape him. Miss Nettlerash glared 
 at him longer and more persistently than usual. 
 
 " Mr. Toms," she at last said, suddenly, " have you made your 
 will ? " 
 
 *•' My will ?— I ? " asked the invalid, startled, " why ? " 
 
 "Wretched man!" replied Miss Janet, "you are going to 
 your account ! " 
 
 " But, Miss Nettlerash, the doctor says I am better. And I 
 am sure I feel much better." 
 
 Miss Nettlerash sniffed. "Pooh, pooh!" she said, "the 
 doctors are humbugs. They keep on telling a man he is better 
 till he goes to his eternal damnation. / don't believe the doctors, 
 and I never did." 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Mr. Toms, feebly, " what have they been 
 telling you ? Don't say they think I am going to die ! Don't, 
 j)lease don't ! " 
 
 " Don't be frightened, Toms," answered Miss Janet, harshly; 
 " don't be a coward as well as a cheat." 
 
 " How dare you speak like that ? " cried the invalid, in a 
 querulous, quavering voice. " You know how ill I am, and }X)U 
 take advantage of it. Go away." 
 
 "I shall not go, Toms," replied Miss Nettlerash, firmly, 
 " It is my duty to speak to you, and I will. I shall not bo 
 deterred by any nonsensical feelings of delicacy. You have 
 cheated Ralph Branscombe out of his inheritance. How will 
 you answer for that wickedness before the great Judgment- 
 seat ? " 
 
 " I liave not cheated any one," murmured Toms, shuttinpf^ 
 his eyes to avoid Miss Ncttlerash's glare. 
 

 
 as 
 d 
 
 
 
THE END. Sfjl 
 
 "You are a contcmptiblo wretch," coutinuetl the liiily, " and 
 you thiuk you will still live to enjoy your ill-gotten wealth. 
 But you are wrong. Throgmorton Toms, you are in a fool's 
 paradise. There is the shadow of death on your face." 
 
 "Oh!" groaned Mr. Toms; "oh, Miss Nettlorash, 
 don't." 
 
 But the determined old lady did not heed him. " You have 
 defrauded Ralph and his foolish father. If my brother-in-law 
 were not such a donkey, it would not have happened. But 
 though he is a donkey you had no right to cheat him. You 
 made Sir Henry Brauscombe sign that will when he was out of 
 his mind." 
 
 "No," said Mr. Toms, weakly, "no, indeed I did not. He 
 was quite himself." 
 
 " It is not true, Throgmorton Toms, you know it is not true. 
 You are going to appear before your Maker with a lie on your 
 lips, and with roguery in your black heart." 
 
 " Oh, this is too dreadful ! " groaned the unfortunate man. 
 " Go away, go away ; I am not going to die." 
 
 " Any one but a fool could see that your days are numbered," 
 repeated the pitiless woman. "They call you a sharp City man. 
 Sharp, indeed ! I call you an idiot if you fancy you will get 
 better." 
 
 " Oh, you dreadful woman ! " cried poor little Toms ; " oh ! " 
 and then he burst into tears, more genuine than those he had 
 shed at Branscombe Hall. 
 
 Miss Nettlerash stretched her arm out nicnaciuclv, standin<>- 
 close to the bed. " Eepeut while it is yet time, Throgmorton 
 Toms," she cried. " Repent, I say, for to you is vouchsafed a 
 great mercy. You may still make good some of the evil you 
 have done. But if you now harden your black heart, and turn 
 back from the right path, there will be no mercy on your wicked 
 soul ! " 
 
 Toms nearly fainted, but not quite. j\Iiss Nettlerash applied 
 vinegar to his temples, and he sighed, and groaned, and opened 
 
352 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 las ej'cs. " Go away," lie again murmured, " go away ; I want 
 the nurse." 
 
 "No!" she said. "Do you feel tlie black shadow of death 
 coming over you ? It is the grave which will swallow you up 
 unless 3'ou turn and repent ! I shall not go. This is my 
 house ; this is my room. Providence has entrusted me with a 
 great task, and I will carry it through. AVill you die in your 
 sin, Throgmorton Toms '? " 
 
 " What am I to do ? " gasped the invalid, feebly. 
 
 *'Do? Send for your rascally lawyer, Mr. Bones, and give 
 orders to have that money restored of which you robbed ni}' 
 brother-in-law and my nephew." 
 
 Even in his extreme peril, frightened as he was, Mr. Toms 
 was consistent. A gleam of satisfaction shot across his wan 
 face when Miss Xettlerash mentioned Mr. Bones. In his 
 tortuous brain, w-eak and shaken, there arose the thought that it 
 would be easy to give his lawyer a few instructions which would 
 keep Miss Nettlerash quiet -Rithout necessitating the restoration 
 of a single penny. 
 
 "Very well, Miss Nettlerash," groaned the patient, "send 
 for Bones. His address is 140, New Square, Lincoln's Inn." 
 And then he really fainted. 
 
 Long before Mrs. Toms had finished her shopping, not 
 only Mr. Bones, but ]Mr. Inkstone and Sir Davenport 
 Harley were at Silverstone. Miss Nettlerash had not let the 
 grass grow under her feet. She sent for a fly, and took the 
 first train to town, though she hated trains. She herself fetched 
 the two lawyers and the great physician, all of whom she had 
 advised by telegram. On the way back she explained matters 
 with great clearness. They w^ere in a first-class carriage b^^ 
 themselves, Mr. Bones feeling rather uncomfortable. Sir Daven- 
 port Harley somewhat surprised, and Mr. Inkstone in a calm 
 state of expectation. 
 
 " Guard," she said, deliberately, when the man clipped tlieir 
 tickets at King's Cross, " we are going to Silverstone. We don't 
 
THE END. 353 
 
 want to be disturbed. Here is half-a-crown." And, for a 
 wonder, sbe produced the coin without lifting up her dress. 
 But it must be admitted that she had spent most of the time 
 from Lincohi's Inn to the station in searching for it. 
 
 "Now, Sir Davenport," she began, as soon as the train had 
 cleared the tunnels, "do you recollect Sir Henry Branscombe ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, madam," replied Sir Davenport. " In fact, I have 
 been consulted about him by both these gentlemen." And he 
 bowed towards the two lawyers. 
 
 " Very well. Mr. Bones, you will be good enough not to talk 
 at present. Listen to what I have got to say, and you may 
 chatter as much as you like afterwards. Sir Davenport, is it 
 not your professional opinion that Mr. Toms is very unlikely to 
 recover ? " 
 
 "Well," replied the physician, stroking his chin, "I have 
 seen worse cases recover, and I have seen less serious injuries 
 result in death." 
 
 " At any rate," continued Miss Nettlerash, " he is in a very 
 serious condition ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly." 
 
 " And he ought to settle all his affairs ? " 
 
 "I think so," replied Sir Davenport: "the worst might 
 happen at any time." 
 
 " Is he in a fit state to do so ? " continued Miss Nettlerash. 
 
 "Quite,! think," answered the doctor. "At any rate, his 
 mind was perfectly clear the day before yesterday. "Weak, of 
 course, very weak, but not a bit off his head now. Pyburn is, I 
 gather, of the same opinion." 
 
 " Then, if there is no particular change there would be no 
 objection to his executing a legal document ? " asked Miss 
 Janet. 
 
 " None," answered Sir Davenport. 
 
 " Very well, then, that is what he wants these gentlemen 
 for," Miss Janet went on. " You all know that the late Sir 
 Henry Branscombe left all his money to Mr. Toms ? " 
 
354 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 They nodded. She went on, 
 
 " Now Mr. Toms feels that the will was not quite fair to Sir 
 George and Mr. Kalph Brauscombe. Knowing that even if he 
 
 recovers he will probably be a cripple at the best Am I 
 
 right, Sir Davenport ? " 
 
 " I fear so, madam." 
 
 *' He feels his position, and thinks he ought to restore to the 
 natural heir a large sum, a very large sum." 
 
 Mr. Bones jumped from his seat. "You must be mistaken, 
 Miss Nettlerash," said he ; " my client was no party to the will. 
 He used no undue influence ; the document is perfectly correct 
 in every respect, and " 
 
 " I never said it was not. The will is of course perfectly 
 correct," Miss Nettlerash said, with a touch of sarcasm. " No 
 one wants to attack the will. Only Mr. Toms no longer wishes 
 to take advantage of some of its provisions. Be quiet, Mr. 
 Bones," she went on, when the lawyer again attempted to speak. 
 " You will get your precious client's personal instructions." 
 
 "I shall not accept them ! " exclaimed he. "I shall protest 
 against the influence brought to bear " 
 
 "I do not think you will, Mr. Bones," said I\Iiss Nettlerash, 
 significantly. "In your own and your client's interest I think 
 you -will not. It will put an end to all litigation, Mr. Toms will 
 still be a rich man if he lives, and there will be no scandal. 
 What is your opinion, Mr. Inkstone ? " 
 
 " I think that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred an 
 arrangement is better than an action," replied that gentleman. 
 
 ** Very well, then we understand each other. Here we are at 
 Silverstone." 
 
 Now the hours had not passed very pleasantly for Mr. Toms. 
 That gentleman had at once tackled Dr. Pyburn, when the 
 doctor paid his daily visit. 
 
 " Am I going to die ? " asked he. 
 
 " Some time or other, like all of us," answered Dr. 
 Pyburn. 
 
THE END. 355 
 
 *' No, no ; don't talk nonsense. Shall I get better of this 
 accident ? " 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Tell me the truth, the whole truth, doctor," implored Toms, 
 almost in tears. 
 
 " I always tell the truth," answered Pyburn. "I do hope you 
 will recover." 
 
 "I dare say; but shall I?" 
 
 " That depends upon the care you take of yourself, and on 
 your not getting over-excited, and on many other circumstances." 
 
 " But I must know, for very important reasons," urged Toms, 
 regaining hope. " I cannot be quiet until I know." 
 
 " If you mean that you have arrangements to make concerning 
 your property, then, I say, make them b}'- all means ; the sooner 
 the better," said the doctor. " They will be off your mhid, and 
 I have never heard yet that a man has died from making his 
 will." 
 
 That expression "making his will " was horrible to Mr. Toms, 
 and again plunged him into despair. 
 
 '* Oh, doctor ! " he groaned. " Don't you think I shall get 
 hetter ? " 
 
 " I told you I thought you would," repeated the doctor. "You 
 have a very good chance, if you will be quiet." 
 
 Dr. Pyburn soon left, with some encouraging words. From 
 hints dropped by Miss Nettlerash, he was sincerely anxious that 
 his patient should settle his affairs, and he thought that recovery 
 was more probable if they were off his mind. On the other 
 hand, he saw that Toms disliked the notion of a will, and being 
 rather a rough, strong-minded man, he despised him for it. 
 He concluded, on the whole, that it would be better for Toms 
 to get the matter settled and done, even at the cost of a little 
 momentary exhaustion, and he was not surprised at being sent 
 for when the party arrived from town. Of course he agreed 
 with Sir Davenport that the patient was quite fit to decide on 
 his own affairs. 
 
356 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 Miss Nettlerash appeared in the invalid's room. " The 
 lawyers are here," she said. 
 
 " The lawyers ? Who is come hesides Bones ? " murmured 
 Toms. 
 
 "Mr. Inkstone, of course," answered Miss Nettlerash. "And 
 I brought down Sir Davenport Harley. He says that if you 
 recover you will he a cripple for life." 
 
 Mr. Toms groaned. 
 
 "Think," she went on, "what you will suffer when you lie 
 on your invalid couch. If you don't believe that you will die 
 now, think of the misery you will endure for years, tied to a sofa 
 and wheeled about in a Bath chair. Of what use Avill be your 
 twelve thousand a year to you then? Kemember, Throgmorton 
 Toms, remember and repent!" 
 
 Then Sir Davenport Harley came in. He felt the patient's 
 pulse. "Weak and fluttering, but quite fit to give his instruc- 
 tions," was his verdict, and the great man returned to town. 
 The lawyers were now shown into the invalid's chamber. Miss 
 Nettlerash would not take Mr. Toms' hint that she had better 
 leave them, and Mr. Bones was too cowed to speak. 
 
 The energetic lady began : 
 
 " Mr. Toms is very weak, gentlemen, and cannot be troubled 
 much. He wishes me to explain what he wants. He thinks 
 that Sir Henry Branscombe left him too much in his will, and 
 he would like to meet Mr. Ealph Branscombe' s views by an 
 arrangement. Is that right, Mr. Toms ?" 
 
 The invalid did not dare to contradict. He shut his eyes ta 
 avoid Miss Nettlerash's gaze, and replied feebly in the aftir- 
 mative. 
 
 " Would you accept a fair compromise on behalf of your 
 client, Mr. Inkstone ? " asked Miss Nettlerash. 
 
 " Certainly," replied he. " Sir George and Mr. Branscombe 
 are neither of them here, but if the terms are fair they will 
 gladly accept them, to put an end to litigation. I hold their 
 powers of attorney." 
 
THE END. 357 
 
 " Very well, then. Mr. Toms wishes to clear the Branscombe 
 estate of the mortgages, so that Mr. Ralph Branscombe may 
 have the full benefit of the place. That is right, is it not?" 
 she asked, as she again turned to the invalid. 
 
 ]\Ir. Toms assented again, wondering whether that was all. 
 Fifty thousand ! A great deal of money certainly, but still not 
 too much to get rid of an expensive and scandalous lawsuit, and 
 a horrible old woman. 
 
 " Very well," Miss Janet went on : " Mr. Bones will put that 
 down as the first condition of agreement." 
 
 Mr. Bones ventured to ask Mr. Toms if he assented. 
 
 "You have heard him say 'yes,' " Miss Nettlerash remarked, 
 sharply. " Don't tire him for nothing. Men are always fools 
 in a sick room." 
 
 Mr. Bones did not open his moutn again, but he and Mr. 
 Inkstone were busy taking notes. 
 
 "The next thing is," continued Miss Janet grimly, "that 
 within a month Mr. Throgmorton Toms, or his executors, if he 
 should unfortunately die before then, are to hand over fifty 
 thousand pounds in cash or approved securities to the Eev. Sir 
 George Branscombe." 
 
 Mr. Toms almost leaped out of his pillows and bandages. 
 
 " Are you in pain ?" said Miss Nettlerash, turning round to 
 him, and gently arranging his pillows. " Let me give you your 
 medicine." 
 
 She gave him a spoonful of restorative, and whispered : 
 
 " That is all I ask. It is exactly half of what you robbed 
 them of. If you say a word there is an end of everything, and 
 you kno7v that you are going to die. Mr. Toms wishes this 
 done, do you not ?" she added, in a loud voice. 
 
 " Yes," murmured the sick man. 
 
 " The last condition is that the litigation is at an end, and 
 that everybody pays his own lawyers. Put that as you like, with 
 ten times as many words as are necessary. Now go down stairs, 
 both of you, and write it all out as quickly as you can." 
 
358 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 Mr. Bones tried to demur, but it was not of much use. In 
 two hours the agreement was drawn up in duphcate, and by that 
 time Sir George himself had arrived, and removed Mr. Ink- 
 stone's scruples. When the patient's afternoon tea Avas carried 
 up it was followed by the two lawyers and the rector. Mr. 
 Toms was bolstered up, and a pen placed in his hand ; but 
 before he signed Sir George, who never really believed evil of 
 any man, insisted on shaking hands with the wretched invalid. 
 When the signature was afiixed and duly witnessed Mr. Toms 
 fell back exhausted. 
 
 An hour later there was a crunch of wheels on the gravel. 
 Mrs. Toms had returned, but her husband was in a dead faint, 
 and she did not learn what had happened in her absence until 
 the following day. 
 
 Ealph was on his hurried homeward journey, and no one 
 knew his address. But on the next day he telegraphed from 
 Paris, and in reply was told by the rector to go direct to 
 Branscombe. 
 
 Sir George and Lady Branscombe, Miss Nettlerash, and 
 Marian met them on the threshold. 
 
 " It is all yours again," said Miss Nettlerash, as she kissed 
 him. " The little wretch has paid the mortgages, and you and 
 Diana can live here all your lives ! " 
 
 Ralph and Diana could not believe their ears. 
 
 *' Yes, my boy," said Sir George, " your aunt has done it all. 
 She has made Throgmorton Toms give up half of what he took 
 from us. There is 'no lawsuit, and everything is settled, 
 thanks to her, and her only." 
 
 " Will you learn to love me some day ?" asked Miss Nettle- 
 rash, holding out her hand to Diana. " I was rough to you, 
 like a cross old woman as I am. But it was for Ralph's sake." 
 
 " I know," answered Diana, grasping the hand, and kissing 
 it before Miss Nettlerash could stop her. " And you were right. 
 I was not worthy of him, and never shall be. But my stupid 
 pride is gone, and I will try to make him happy." 
 
THE END. 359 
 
 *' Aunt Janet," exclaimed Kalph, " you have given me back my 
 dear wife, and you have given me back Branscombe ! How can 
 I ever thank you ?" 
 
 The young man threw his arms round the old lady's neck, 
 and Idssed her warmly on both cheeks. 
 
 "You need not thank me, Kalph," said Miss Janet, returning 
 his kiss, " and you had better kiss your mother. I know she 
 would rather not have me at the rectory, so I have asked for 
 a room here to-night. I hope that you will not smoke too 
 much, and that you won't want to turn your old aunt out when 
 she comes to stop with you." 
 
 " Janet ! " exclaimed Lady Branscombe. " How can you ? " 
 
 "Oh, I know — I know," replied Miss Nettlerash. "And, 
 Diana, remember to make your dairymaid dry the butter pro- 
 perly. Nothing is so bad as water in the butter — it makes it go 
 
 bad directly." 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 There is not much more to add. Mr. Throgmorton Toms did 
 not die of his injuries, but was crippled for several years. Mrs. 
 Throgmorton Toms progresses in Society, and perhaps some 
 day my readers may be told something of her adventures. Mr. 
 Bingham soon dissolved his partnership with Handsome Joe, as 
 the latter gentleman was too sharp for him. After a difference 
 of opinion with a magistrate, and a short period spent in retire- 
 ment, Handsome Joe established what he terms a " veterinary 
 forge" not a hundred miles from Albany Street, Eegent's Park, 
 where he still carries on his nefarious trade. His real name 
 and address will be supplied on application. Mr. Bingham has 
 retired to a suburban cottage with a modest competency, and 
 cultivates roses. The Bankshire hounds have become almost a 
 fashionable pack, and Ptalph -will probably be the new Master. 
 Diana does not ride quite as hard as formerly, having reasons 
 which a visit to the nursery at Branscombe Hall might explain. 
 Marian is growing up to be a fine handsome girl, and Diana 
 will present her next season. The Rev. C. T. Mudbury Dawson 
 
360 
 
 FAIR DIANA. 
 
 lectures in the provinces on the English language, and occa- 
 sionally begs for a few pounds, which Miss Nettlerash gives 
 him. They are spent on port wine and stronger liquors, hut he 
 still advertises his lectures and touts for pupils. Colonel Man- 
 nering is in Stafif employ, hard at work, and has become an 
 ornament to the service. Mr. Saintsbury Suuif box has given up 
 the Holborn Yale hounds, and now hunts regularly in the Shires. 
 Egerton Paull has been seen pretty often at Silver stone lately, 
 and there is a little gossip about him and Marian. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 ERADBURY, AONEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. 
 
AK dere: 
 
 
IwFMnily Library of Veterinary Medioine 
 
 Sdiool of Veterinary ^4edicine at 
 
 Tufts University 
 
 aOOW^stboroRoad 
 
 mmmOraXton MA 01536 
 
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