Edward. I was once intimate with the man; but he served me a shabby trick, and that ended the friendship. I don't like him."
"I dare say what he said was not true," said Lord Hartledon kindly. "You might as well make a confidant of me. However, I have not time to talk to-day. We will go into the matter, Val, after Monday, when this race has come off, and see what arrangement can be made for you. There's only one thing bothers me."
"What's that?"
"The danger that it may be a wasted arrangement. If you are only set up on your legs to come down again, as you have before, it will be so much waste of time and money; so much loss, to me, of temper. Don't you see, Val?"
Percival Elster stopped in his walk, and withdrew his arm from his brother's; his face and voice full of emotion.
"Edward, I have learnt a lesson. What it has cost me I hardly yet know: but it is learnt. On my sacred word of honour, in the solemn presence of Heaven, I assert it, that I will never put my hand to another bill, whatever may be the temptation. I have overcome, in this respect at least, my sin."
"Your sin?"
"My nature's great sin; the besetting sin that has clung to me through life; the unfortunate sin that is my bane to this hour—cowardly irresolution."
"All right, Val; I see you mean well now. We'll talk of these matters next week. Instead of Elster's Folly, let it become Elster's Wisdom."
Lord Hartledon wrung his brother's hand and turned away. His eyes fell on Miss Ashton, and he went straight up to her. Putting the young lady's arm within his own, without word or ceremony, he took her off to a distance: and old Lady Kirton's skirts went round in a dance as she saw it.
"I am about to take him in hand, Anne, and set him going again: I have promised Dr. Ashton. We must get him a snug berth; one that even the doctor won't object to, and set him straight in other matters. If he has mortgaged his patrimony, it shall be redeemed. And, Anne, I think—I do think—he may be trusted to keep straight for the future."
Her soft sweet eyes sparkled with pleasure, and her lips parted with a sunny smile. Lord Hartledon took her hand within his own as it lay on his arm, and the furious old dowager saw it all from the distance.
"Don't say as much as this to him, Anne: I only tell you. Val is so sanguine, that it may be better not to tell him all beforehand. And I want, of course, first of all, to get a true list of—that is, a true statement of facts," he broke off, not caring to speak the word "debts" to that delicate girl before him. "He is my only brother; my father left him to me, for he knew what Val was; and I'll do my best for him. I'd do it for Val's own sake, apart from the charge. And, Anne, once Val is on his legs with an income, snug and comfortable, I shall recommend him to marry without delay; for, after all, you will be his greatest safeguard."
A blush suffused her face, and Lord Hartledon smiled.
Down came the countess-dowager.
"Here's that old dowager calling to me. She never lets me alone. Val sent me into a fit of laughter yesterday, saying she had designs on me for Maude. Poor deluded woman! Yes, ma'am, I hear. What is it?"
Mr. Elster went strolling along on the banks of the river, towards Calne; not with any particular purpose, but in his restless uneasiness. He had a tender conscience, and his past follies were pressing on it heavily. Of one thing he felt sure—that he was more deeply involved than Hartledon or anyone else suspected, perhaps even himself. The way was charming in fine weather, though less pleasant in winter. It was by no means a frequented road, and belonged of right to Lord Hartledon only; but it was open to all. Few chose it when they could traverse the more ordinary way. The narrow path on the green plain, sheltered by trees, wound in and out, now on the banks of the river, now hidden amidst a portion of the wood. Altogether it was a wild and lonely pathway; not one that a timid nature would choose on a dark night. You might sit in the wood, which lay to the left, a whole day through, and never see a soul.
One part of the walk was especially beautiful. A green hollow, where the turf was soft as moss; open to the river on the right, with a glimpse of the lovely scenery beyond; and on the left, the clustering trees of the wood. Yet further, through a break in the trees, might be seen a view of the houses of Calne. A little stream, or rivulet, trickled from the wood, and a rustic bridge—more for ornament than use, for a man with long legs could stride the stream well—was thrown over it. Val had reached thus far, when he saw someone standing on the bridge, his arms on the parapet, apparently in a brown study.
A dark, wild-looking man, whose face, at the first glimpse, seemed all hair. There was certainly a profusion of it; eyebrows, beard, whiskers, all heavy, and black as night. He was attired in loose fustian clothes with a red handkerchief wound round his throat, and a low slouching hat—one of those called wide-awake—partially concealed his features. By his side stood another man in plain, dark, rather seedy clothes, the coat outrageously long. He wore a cloth hat, whose brim hid his face, and he was smoking a cigar. Both men were slightly built and under middle height. This one was adorned with red whiskers.
The moment Mr. Elster set eyes on the dark one, he felt that he saw the man Pike before him. It happened that he had not met him during these few days of his sojourn; but some of the men staying at Hartledon had, and had said what a loose specimen he appeared to be. The other was a stranger, and did not look like a countryman at all.
Mr. Elster saw them both give a sharp look at him as he approached; and then they spoke together. Both stepped off the bridge, as though deferring to him, and stood aside as they watched him cross over, Pike touching his wide-awake.
"Good-day, my lord."
Val nodded by way of answer, and continued his stroll onwards. In the look he had taken at Pike, it struck him he had seen the face before: something in the countenance seemed familiar to his memory. And to his surprise he saw that the man was young.
The supposed reminiscence did not trouble him: he was too pre-occupied with thoughts of his own affairs to have leisure for Mr. Pike's. A short bit of road, and this rude, sheltered part of the way terminated in more open ground, where three paths diverged: one to the front of Hartledon; one to some cottages, and on through the wood to the high-road; and one towards the Rectory and Calne. Rural paths still, all of them; and the last was provided with a bench or two. Val Elster strolled on almost to the Rectory, and then turned back: he had no errand at Calne, and the Rectory he would rather keep out of just now. When he reached the little bridge Pike was on it alone; the other had disappeared. As before, he stepped off to make way for Mr. Elster.
"I beg pardon, sir, for addressing you just now as Lord Hartledon."
The salutation took Val by surprise; and though the voice seemed muffled, as though the man purposely mouthed his words, the accent and language were superior to anything he might have expected from one of Mr. Pike's appearance and reputed character.
"No matter," said Val, courteous even to Pike, in his kindly nature. "You mistook me for my brother. Many do."
"Not I," returned the man, assuming a freedom and a roughness at variance with his evident intelligence. "I know you for the Honourable Percival Elster."
"Ah," said Mr. Elster, a slight curiosity stirring his mind, but not sufficient to induce him to follow it up.
"But I like to do a good turn if I can," pursued Pike; "and I think, sir, I did one to you in calling you Lord Hartledon."
Val Elster had been passing on. He turned and looked at the man.
"Are you in any little temporary difficulty, might I ask?" continued Pike. "No offense, sir; princes have been in such before now."
Val Elster was so supremely conscious, especially in that reflective hour, of being in a "little difficulty" that might prove more than temporary, that he could only stare at the questioner and wait for more.
"No offence again, if I'm wrong," resumed Pike; "but if that man you saw here on the bridge is not looking after the Honourable Mr. Elster, I'm a fool."
"Why do you think this?" inquired Val, too fully aware that the fact was a likely one to attempt any reproof or disavowal.
"I'll tell you," said Pike; "I've said I don't mind