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 SUNSHINE AND SNOW.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/sunshinesnownove01smar
 
 SUNSHINE AND SNOW 
 
 Jl £obcl. 
 
 HAWLEY SMART. 
 
 AETHOR OT " BKEEZIE LAXGTOX," " TWO KISSES," " EEOKEX BO^EJ 
 " BOC?fD TO WIX," ETC. ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL, I. 
 
 CHAPMAE AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 1878. 
 
 [All riyhts reserved.']
 
 CHARLES DICKENS AND ETANS, 
 CHYSTAX PALACE I'KESS.
 
 
 %21 
 
 ID 
 o 
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 \p 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 X 
 
 " The Eegimen: 
 
 [al Cup" 
 
 1 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 
 OL 
 
 
 
 
 k' 
 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 
 By the Salt Waters " . . . .27 
 
 
 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 >s. 
 
 " Eingstone Abbey " 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 45 
 
 "Is Miss Lydox pretty?" .... 63
 
 PAGE 
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 " The Big Pike " 85 
 
 CHAPTEE VI 
 "The Dowager" Ill 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 "Clarisse at Home" 128 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 "A Pool at Ecarte " 144 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 "My Lady's Diplomacy-' . . . .168 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 " Clarisse's Misgivings" .... 187
 
 CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Clarisse expostulates " . . 205 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 A few Words with Sir Randolph " . . 220 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Settlement " 239
 
 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "the regimental cup." 
 
 Ox the top of a small knoll, which might 
 almost be designated a hill in a county that 
 could boast of little more than undulating 
 ground, are assembled a mixed assemblage, 
 
 all apparently deeply interested in the sports 
 which are taking place at the foot of their 
 post of vantage. The occupants of a couple 
 of drags, and perhaps a dozen or so of 
 carriages, from which the horses have been 
 taken out, a small posse of horsemen, and 
 a somewhat more numerous gathering of 
 pedestrians, constitute the little crowd. The 
 carriages are chiefly tenanted by ladies, while 
 
 VOL. T. b
 
 2 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 the men who lounge upon the drags are un- 
 mistakably for the most part soldiers. In 
 the background are pitched a couple of 
 marquees. One of these seems dedicated to 
 perpetual lunch, and numerous are the fair 
 visitors who in turns abandon their carriages 
 to make acquaintance with the lobster 
 salads, mayonnaise, &c, contained within its 
 hospitable walls ; the other is given up 
 to the costuming of the gentlemen riders, 
 for these people are congregated for the pur- 
 pose of celebrating the regimental steeple- 
 chases of H.M.'s — th Hussars, an annual 
 fete day which that jovial corps considered 
 could be only properly solemnised by in- 
 viting all the neighbourhood around their 
 station to join in a gigantic picnic. Granted 
 propitious weather, and this was usually a 
 most enjoyable outing, both for themselves 
 and their guests, as a picnic, with pleasant 
 people, plenty to eat and drink of the best, 
 and something to amuse, is sure to be. 
 
 Very different from the ordinary race
 
 THE REGIMENTAL CUP." 
 
 meeting, there is neither stand nor betting- 
 ring. The blatant professional layer against 
 everything and everybody is conspicuous by 
 his absence only. The judge's box is a 
 four-wheeled dog-cart, the stewards' stand a 
 waggon. But there is plenty of wagering 
 going on quietly amongst the dragoons 
 themselves and the sporting gentlemen of the 
 district ; those hard-riding young farmers, 
 too, have been hunting alongside the soldiers 
 all last season, have their own opinions of 
 what both men and horses can do, and back 
 their judgment freely amongst each other, 
 so that there is no lack of the excitement 
 which moderate speculation gives to the 
 spectators at such carnivals. 
 
 But the race of the day is about to be run, 
 and for awhile there is a cessation of lunch 
 and flirtation. The men — aye, and the 
 women too, for many of the latter have 
 seen the competitors constantly in the 
 hunting - field — eagerly discuss yet again 
 the chances of their favourites. I fear the 
 
 B 2
 
 4 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 ladies, in this case, allow their partiality to 
 obscure their judgment, plunging despe- 
 rately, as regards gloves, on some popular 
 cavalier, without much reference to what he 
 may ride ; still, both amongst those in 
 trailing robes of silk and those in broadcloth ; 
 amongst amazons in short-skirted habits : 
 amongst wiry touo-h men in Melton cords 
 and butcher boots ; or amongst the mous- 
 tached gentlemen in pot hats and ulsters, 
 who are smoking so assiduously on the tops 
 of the drao;s ; there seems to be a conviction 
 that Wilful Kate should about win. 
 
 The men are all full of how vouno- 
 Cherriton, her owner, was the one man with 
 the hounds during that famous hour and fifty 
 minutes from Oxenby Gorse, just before last 
 Christmas, when neither master nor hunts- 
 man ever succeeded in getting within hail, 
 and the pack ran into their fox and killed 
 without assistance. Then again, some of the 
 hunt recall that day when the fox, slipping 
 them, crossed Hazingley Brook, and how Jim
 
 THE REGIMENTAL CUP. 5 
 
 Hawksbury, on that occasion riding Wilful 
 Kate, set the field. There is no doubt but 
 the mare can jump and stay, still there is 
 also a suspicion abroad that she has a temper. 
 
 "Mr. Hawksbury, come here for one 
 moment, if you please," cried a young lady, 
 muffled in the richest sables, and seated 
 in a stately, albeit somewhat old-fashioned, 
 barouche. " I want to speak to you." 
 
 The gentleman addressed turned his head, 
 then raising his low-crowned felt hat, reined 
 up the clever, short-legged bay cob he was 
 riding by the side of the carriage. 
 
 A stout, thick-set, broad-shouldered man, 
 of fifty-five or thereabouts, sitting his horse 
 squarely, like a man well accustomed to the 
 saddle, clad in a riding - coat of Oxford 
 mixture, darkish cords, and boots reaching 
 to the knee. He wore a starched white 
 scarf with a neat gold pin, but beyond that 
 there was nothing to denote his clerical 
 profession. Yet the Eev. Eobert Hawks- 
 bury preached twice a week as surely as
 
 6 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 he hunted three times in the season, and 
 was wont to boast that he was never late 
 for a marriage, a funeral, a dinner, or at 
 the cover-side. 
 
 '•' Delighted to see you, Miss Auriole !" he 
 exclaimed, a bright smile suffusing his jolly, 
 rubicund visage, as he shook hands. "What 
 chance has brought you from the Wolds to 
 grace the Muddlebury neighbourhood ? " 
 
 " I might ask the same of you," rejoined 
 the young lady, laughing. "Allow me to 
 introduce you to my hostess, Lady Dampier." 
 
 The Eev. Robert raised his hat, as he 
 replied : " Don't you know there's a HaAvks- 
 bury going to venture his neck in this next 
 race, and that the lad's the best hands and 
 seat of the family. I wasn't bad in my day, 
 Miss Auriole, and they'll tell you, can hold 
 my own now amongst the welters, when 
 hounds are running ; but Jim's better than 
 I ever was." 
 
 " You know you ought never to have 
 been good in that way," retorted Miss
 
 Auriole. " It is a wonder the Bishop 
 doesn't speak to you." 
 
 " Don't be saucy, Letty," rejoined Robert 
 Hawksbury, chuckling. " Just at present 
 I'm looking after my nephew, and another 
 parishioner, apparently. If he and she lead 
 their pastor into all the iniquity of a race- 
 course, he cannot help himself — he is bound 
 to look after his flock." 
 
 " Most especially that terrible Fox family, 
 in which he takes such preposterous and un- 
 reasonable interest," replied Miss Auriole, 
 her eyes dancing with fun ; " but, Mr. 
 Hawksbury, will Jim win to-day, do you 
 think ? " 
 
 " Well, I know nothing; about this mare 
 he's Q^oino; to ride bevond I saw her this 
 morning, and can affirm she's a rare good- 
 looking one, and fit to o-o. She showed the 
 whites of her eyes, and laid her ears back once 
 or twice in a way I don't altogether like ; but 
 they say, though a puller, she's not to be 
 called a bad-tempered one. At all events,
 
 8 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 they arc very sanguine of success ; that is to 
 say, both Jim and his friend Mr. Cherriton. 
 Good-bye for the present. I must go down 
 to see the start ; " and lifting his hat, the 
 sporting rector cantered easily away. 
 
 Letty Auriole gazed somewhat inquisi- 
 tively after him as he departed. A fine, 
 clear, intelligent face, though certainly not 
 to be called a handsome one ; quick, vivacious 
 gray eyes ; strong, regular white teeth, set in 
 a somewhat large mouth ; and heavy masses 
 of dusky-brown hah', braided low over her 
 forehead, made the girl, to some extent, 
 striking ; vet she had scarce ever been called 
 good-looking, but for one thing : Letty 
 Auriole w\as an heiress. She was a beauty 
 by inheritance of acres — a belle in virtue of 
 her income. Young ladies of fortune enjoy 
 the prerogative of never being supposed 
 deficient in personal charms ; but there was 
 never one less blinded by flattery on this 
 point than Letty. A keen physiognomist 
 would have said : You will impose upon that
 
 " THE REGIMENTAL CUP." 
 
 girl only through her affections. Once 
 powerfully interest those, and all women are 
 alike blind ; till you do that, if our science 
 is not utterly worthless, she will read you 
 pretty clearly. 
 
 She is excited about this race. She has 
 known all the Hawksbury family from child- 
 hood, and Jim Hawksbury, who is about to 
 ride this mare with the ill-omened name, has 
 been her playmate in days gone by. She 
 has not seen much of him since he joined 
 the service, but still they have met occa- 
 sionally, and Letty rather admires her old 
 companion, and is strongly impressed with 
 his horsemanship. In a sporting county 
 that means a good deal, and can you but 
 hold your own in the drawing-room you 
 start with several points in hand. Prowess 
 in the hunting-field counts with the dames 
 of the shires, much as prowess in the tilt- 
 yard did with those of the days of bluff 
 King Hal. 
 
 Not very far from the waggon at the foot
 
 10 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 of the knoll, which does duty as the stewards' 
 stand, a wiry bay mare is being saddled for 
 the comino- encounter. She lathers slightly. 
 and lashes out occasionally in a fretful 
 fashion, that keeps the little knot of by- 
 standers, who are looking on at her toilet, 
 in a state of much liveliness and commotion. 
 Indeed, so restless is that bay marc, it 
 seems, shift position as you may, there is no 
 keeping clear of her heels if you linger in 
 her vicinity. Two gentlemen, standing a 
 little apart, are contemplating her vagaries 
 with looks of extreme dissatisfaction. 
 
 " It is most unlucky, Jim," said the 
 shorter of the two, a fresh-looking boy of 
 twenty, whose usual cheery face is now most 
 ominously overcast ; " but there's no dis- 
 <misiii<r it, the training has proved a little 
 too much for her ; the jade's been showing 
 temper for the last ten days ; not that I 
 have bothered her with schooling, she doesn't 
 want that ; but she's turned awkward in her 
 gallops. She always did pull a bit, but now
 
 "the regimental cup. 11 
 
 she either tears at her bit like a mad thing, 
 or sulks." 
 
 "I am afraid, young 'uu, you've overdone 
 it a little ; given her a trifle more work than 
 was good for her. However, it can't be 
 helped. We'll have a run for our money, 
 anyway, and if she will but go kind I shall 
 be bad to beat." 
 
 " When things do go wrong they always 
 do it with a vengeance" continued young 
 Cherriton, dolefully. " If I hadn't sprained 
 my wrist I'd have ridden her myself. Of 
 course, I know, Jim, you're a better man 
 than I am, a good deal ; but when she gets 
 into her tantrums like this she'll sometimes 
 go with me, though she won't with anyone 
 else." 
 
 "Well," rejoined Jim Hawksbury, laugh- 
 ing, "I'm sure I wish you could, for I don't 
 look forward to a pleasant ride, I can tell 
 you ; and if she does get away with me, I 
 shall be satisfied if I come well out of it." 
 
 " She'll be the very deuce to hold to-day,"
 
 12 SUNSHINE AXD SXOW. 
 
 observed the proprietor of Wilful Kate, 
 ruefully, as that queer-tempered quadruped 
 lashed out with somewhat extra viciousness 
 at her circle of admirers. " But come along, 
 Jim ; off with your coat ; it is time you 
 were up." 
 
 Jim Hawksbury leisurely divests himself 
 of his overcoat, and appears in his smart, 
 orange-silk racing jacket — a slight, well-knit 
 fellow, rather above the middle height, clean 
 shaven all but his dark moustache, a good 
 resolute face, and bold black eye, lips 
 slightly compressed just now, as if in an- 
 ticipation of being engaged in an awkward 
 piece of work shortly. Another minute 
 or two, and he is on the back of Wilful 
 Kate. For a few seconds the mare refuses 
 to move ; then, as if ashamed of herself, 
 walks quietly away to join her fellow-com- 
 petitors. 
 
 " She looks as if she meant to behave 
 herself, after all," cried Cherriton. " Keep 
 your eye on Traveller, and humour her ; we
 
 '•'the regimental cup." 13 
 
 may be happy yet ; " with which parting 
 advice the Chirper (it was his nickname in 
 the corps) betook himself in search of some 
 eligible place from which to witness the 
 coming struggle. 
 
 There were just half-a-dozen runners for 
 the — th Hussar Regimental Cup, and of these 
 six, three seemed almost equal favourites. 
 The regiment themselves principally be- 
 lieved in Captain Boulder's Traveller — a big, 
 slashing brown horse, who, in the hands of 
 his practised owner, had carried off one or 
 two minor steeplechases. The gentlemen 
 of the surrounding hunts for the most part 
 pinned their faith in a handsome gray, that 
 had been sold to the Colonel by one of 
 themselves a few months back, with an eye 
 to his winning this very race ; while the 
 farmers had a strong fancy for Wilful Kate 
 — not quite so well acquainted, these last, 
 with the queer temper of Mr. Cherriton's 
 mare as his brother-officers ; true, they had 
 seen her a bit fractious in the hunting-field
 
 14 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 at times, but had never beheld her in what 
 her owner termed her tantrums. 
 
 As they walk slowly down to the post, 
 Jim Hawksbury makes up his mind that 
 this race, as far as he is concerned, must be 
 run more in accordance with Wilful Kate's 
 humour than with his own judgment. If 
 she can be coaxed into doino* her best, 
 he fears nothing but Traveller. Between 
 Boulder and himself lie thinks it will be a 
 fine point ; but, as Jim murmurs to himself, 
 with a grin, " I may have the luck to leave 
 him in the water ; the Traveller has no 
 specialite for brooks." 
 
 The flag falls, and a slight murmur from 
 the knoll proclaims that they are off, the 
 gray leading ; but before they reach the first 
 fence Jim Hawksbury comes to the front, 
 and crashes through it a crood four lengths 
 in advance, safe over, though the marc 
 jumped in slovenly fashion ; but it is mani- 
 fest to young Cherriton and other observers 
 that Jim can hardly hold her, and that he is
 
 "THE REGIMENTAL CUP." 15 
 
 making running as a lesser evil than fiohtinij; 
 
 with his horse. The Chirper's face falls 
 again. Though he has backed Wilful Kate 
 for a o;ood bit of nionev, it isn't that ; he has 
 set his heart upon winning the regimental 
 cup, and it has been sore disappointment to 
 him that his accident prevented his riding 
 himself. The way the mare took that first 
 jump showed an unpleasant tendency to 
 gallop through the fences, and the Chirper is 
 quite aware that is one of her peculiarities 
 when her temper is upset, " The brute/' 
 he muttered ; " she'll not only lose us our 
 money, but break Jim's neck. How I wish 
 I'd struck her out, and never asked him to 
 ride;" with which reflection he jumped upon 
 the wheel of an adjoining carriage to obtain 
 a better view. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Cherriton ? " said 
 Lady Dampier. " I trust you have come to 
 witness the triumph of your mare, and to 
 enable us to be the first to congratulate you. 
 Let me introduce you to Miss Auriole."
 
 16 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 " Mr. Hawksbury is an old friend of 
 mine," said that young lady, bowing, " so I 
 assure you I have a strong interest in the 
 success of Wilful Kate." 
 
 "I can only say I am awfully sorry to 
 hear it," rejoined the Chirper, lugubriously. 
 t' She looks more like breaking Jim's collar- 
 bone, just now, than winning;" and as he 
 spoke he thought it would be well if the 
 race terminated no more seriously for his 
 unfortunate jockey. 
 
 Jim Hawksbury, meanwhile, was quite 
 aware that he had not been very far from a 
 fall at the first fence ; his mare, it is true, 
 was pulling very hard, but still he had no 
 intention of risking such another slovenly 
 performance on Wilful Kate's part without 
 interposing. As they came to the next 
 jump he let her feel the spurs pretty 
 sharply ; the effect was electrical ; she cleared 
 it with plenty to spare, but in the next field 
 Jim felt the mare was away with him. On 
 she went, jumping beautifully ; no more
 
 "the regimental cup." 17 
 
 slurring of her fences, but at the same time 
 Jim had lost nearly all control over her. 
 He could just manage to keep her in the 
 course, but that was all, and how long he 
 would even possess power to guide her Jim 
 felt was rather problematical, depending 
 pretty much upon which of them got beat 
 first. Before two miles had been accom- 
 plished, "Wilful Kate was lying about a 
 quarter of a mile in front of the rest of the 
 field, still pulling hard and fencing magnifi- 
 cently. The younger riders began to feel a 
 little flurried at Hawksbury's portentous 
 lead. Notably does young Clarkson, who is 
 riding the Colonel's gray, begin to think it 
 time to endeavour to diminish the gap 
 between Wilful Kate and himself. The wily 
 and veteran Boulder, hero of scores of 
 steeplechases, who is lying well off, gives 
 a grim chuckle as he sees his companions 
 quicken their pace, " pumping their horses 
 out to catch a runaway who never can a'et 
 to the winning-post," mutters the Captain. 
 
 VOL. i. c
 
 18 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 For that experienced jockey had divined, 
 after a very little, the reason of the terrific 
 running that Hawksbury was making, and 
 knew perfectly well that no animal ever 
 foaled could last at that pace for three 
 miles and a half. 
 
 "I must congratulate you, Mr. Cherriton!*' 
 exclaims Lady Dampier. "Your mare looks 
 really as if she would come in alone." 
 
 The Chirper shot a glance of unmitigated 
 contempt at the speaker, and once more 
 betook himself to studying the struggle 
 before him. 
 
 Miss Auriole saw the glance. 
 
 o 
 
 " Lend me your glasses a moment ! " she 
 exclaimed, hurriedly, to her hostess. After 
 gazing through them steadfastly for a few 
 seconds, she turned sharply, and said : "I 
 don't wonder you do not look sanguine, 
 Mr. Cherriton ; if I know anything about it, 
 your mare has overpowered her rider." 
 
 Cherriton nodded. 
 
 "Got clean away with him, Miss Auriole.
 
 " THE REGIMENTAL CUP." 19 
 
 He's no more hold of her this minute than 
 you or I have." 
 
 " And what do you think will be the 
 result ? " inquired the young lady, as the 
 colour faded out of her cheeks. 
 
 u Of course one can't say ; but she'll 
 probably run herself completely out in 
 another half mile or so, and, as soon as she's 
 beat, gallop straight into a fence without an 
 effort to jump it." 
 
 " "Which means an awkward fall for aLl*. 
 Hawks i vary," said Miss Auriole, anxiously. 
 
 The Chirper gave an imperceptible nod, 
 and once more devoted his attention to the 
 race. 
 
 Wilful Kate has just taken a stiff stake 
 
 and binder in superb style, and landed in 
 
 the one ploughed field of the course. Ere 
 
 they are half-way across Jim fancies the 
 
 fierce strain upon his wrists relaxes ; before 
 
 they come to the next fence he tries a strong 
 
 pull ; the iron jaws give way at last, and he 
 
 knows that his mare is once more in hand 
 
 c 2
 
 20 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 Only likely to be somewhat too much in 
 hand, thinks Jim, as he marks the sober 
 fashion in which the wilful one disposes of 
 her next jump. 
 
 There is but one thing for it now, and that 
 is to nurse the mare carefully to the finish. 
 She may last ridden in that way. Then, 
 again, he has a long lead, and it will take his 
 adversaries some little time to catch him yet. 
 Meanwhile, he is coming to the brook, and 
 reflects that his chance of beino; "left in the 
 water" is as good as that of Captain 
 Boulder's. Wilful Kate falters in her stride 
 as she nears it, and Jim's resolution is taken 
 at once. It will be cheaper, he thinks, to 
 go in at once, rather than risk a bad fall by 
 driving a pumped mare at a big jump. He 
 kicks his feet clear of the stirrups, pulls his 
 mare up into a mere canter, and then they 
 plop quietly into the middle of the water. 
 It is an artificial brook, and, as Jim con- 
 jectured, of no depth. He does not even 
 come off. A few seconds, and he and "Wilful
 
 21 
 
 Kate scramble out on the other side, both, if 
 anything, rather freshened by their ducking, 
 Still, of course, he has lost ground, and he 
 is now progressing at very moderate speed. 
 He looks anxiously back, and sees that his 
 antagonists are rapidlv closing: with him, 
 Perhaps the brook may dispose of some few 
 of them, though he can see, at all events, 
 the Colonel's gray and the black jacket of 
 Boulder are safe over, and these are the 
 two most dangerous of his opponents. 
 However, he fancies his mare is galloping 
 stronger from his judicious nursing ; he is- 
 still in front, and it is possible when they 
 come up alongside that neither the Traveller 
 nor Gray Bertram may prove to have much 
 left in them. 
 
 As Jim Hawksbury rounds the final turn 
 for home, and comes into the straight 
 run in, Gray Bertram races up to him. 
 Clarkson, who is riding the Colonel's nag, is 
 by no means a bad horseman, but, like most 
 young jockeys, is in rather too great a hurry
 
 22 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 to get to the winning-post. They have only 
 about half-a-mile to go now, over four large 
 grass fields — old swath — what hunting men 
 would call real galloping ground, and Clark- 
 son thinks it time to take up the running. 
 Jim resigns his lead without a struggle, but 
 eyes the gray keenly. 
 
 " I shall catch him again/' he mutters ; 
 " he has not a great deal left in his horse, 
 and cannot afford to take liberties," and Jim 
 throws an anxious glance over his shoulder 
 to see who may be his immediate followers. 
 Not much cause to trouble his head as far as 
 three of them arc concerned, for one is still 
 the wrong side of the brook, and two more 
 are hopelessly beaten off ; but the Traveller 
 is creeping up to him fast, and evidently has 
 plenty of go left in him. 
 
 Now, Jim knew pretty well that his mare 
 had the speed of the Traveller, and though 
 she was somewhat beat, he thought, if he 
 could wait till he got quietly over the last 
 fence, and then make a race of it from there,
 
 23 
 
 lie might win. But the astute Boulder 
 was equally alive to this view of the situa- 
 tion, and had not the slightest intention of 
 finishing the contest to suit "Wilful Kate. 
 The Captain, in fact, felt fairly confident of 
 winning ; he knew that his horse was the 
 freshest of the three between whom the race 
 now laid, and no sooner was he over the last 
 fence but one than he immediately took ad- 
 vantage of this circumstance, and sent the 
 Traveller along. Jim felt he must keep 
 with him or be beat. Gray Bertram is 
 leading some four lengths, but the Captain 
 nearly catches him as they come to the last 
 fence, and W 7 ilful Kate is barely a couple of 
 lengths behind. 
 
 " A good race ! " cry the spectators, and 
 all three horses are proclaimed as winning 
 by their respective partisans. Two top the 
 jump, and then comes a thud and a crash, 
 and Wilful Kate and her jockey roll over 
 into the winning field and lie motionless. 
 
 A woman's shriek breaks from a little
 
 24 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 knot of lookers-on who had assembled at the 
 last fence to see the finish, and it is 
 rumoured that a young lady has fainted — in 
 truth, Hawksbury's fall was bad to look 
 upon. The mare had been more beat than 
 Jim supposed ; the quickened pace of the 
 last field had completely finished her, and 
 when she came to the jump she made no 
 attempt to rise, but galloped straight into it. 
 
 Assistance, of course, there was plenty of. 
 Without waiting to see the triumph of the 
 Traveller by two eafcy lengths, the Chirper 
 sprang from the wheel of Lady Darnpier's 
 carriage, but ere his feet had well touched 
 the ground, his steps were arrested by Miss 
 Auriole's voice. 
 
 " Mr. Cherriton," she murmured, turning 
 white even to her very lips, " you will 
 promise to come back and let me know what 
 has happened to Mr. Hawksbury exactly, 
 won't you ? I'm afraid it's a very bad fall ; 
 neither of them got up." 
 
 Miss Auriole was right; it is an ominous
 
 " THE REGIMENTAL CUP. 2 J 
 
 sign when horse and rider lie where they 
 fall. In this instance Wilful Kate was too 
 done to move, her hapless jockey simply 
 insensible. 
 
 " Eely upon me," replied the Chirper, 
 tersely, and sped down the hill as fast as his 
 legs could carry him. 
 
 Half an hour or so elapsed, and even Lady 
 Dampier, albeit a somewhat unobservant old 
 lady, began to think Miss Auriole a little 
 incoherent in her conversation, when Cher- 
 riton returned. 
 
 " Jim's a good deal shook, but he's come 
 to himself again now, though still rather 
 hazy. The doctors don't think there's any- 
 thing serious, as far as thev can see ; but the 
 arm — his bridle arm — is broke. Still, Miss 
 Auriole, that will mend, and I don't think 
 he's much to fear beyond the tedium of a 
 sick room." 
 
 " Thank you so much," replied the young- 
 lady, with a bright smile ; " it looked such a 
 bad fall, I couldn't help feeling anxious. I
 
 26 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 must say good-bye now. Our horses have 
 been in some time, and we were only 
 waiting for your report to go home." 
 
 The Chirper raised his hat and walked off 
 in a meditative manner to the luncheon 
 tent. Wilful Kate's misconduct, he con- 
 sidered, required to be washed down with a 
 glass of sherry. 
 
 " They're queer things, women," muttered 
 the young philosopher, " and I don't profess 
 to understand 'em ; but I don't fancy, as a 
 rule, they turn as white as Miss Auriole did 
 when a fellow gets a cropper, unless he's a 
 husband, brother, or sweetheart. It's quite 
 clear Jim can't stand in the light of either 
 of the first two to her," and the Chirper, 
 tossing down his sherry, indulged in a wink 
 expressive of much sagacity.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "by the salt waters." 
 
 Mr. Cherriton proved a true prophet. 
 Little more than a week lias elapsed since 
 Jim Hawksbury was carried home senseless 
 from the regimental steeplechases, and now 
 he sits smoking in a state of much despon- 
 dency at his window in Muddlebury bar- 
 racks. He looks somewhat pale, and his 
 left arm is in a sling and carefully bandaged, 
 otherwise you would say there was nothing 
 much the matter with him now. Yet his 
 face seems worn and wearied. The doctors 
 are, in fact, a little puzzled about Jim, and 
 say his system wants tone. The truth is, he 
 does not recover from his accident as at his
 
 28 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 age lie should do, and the why completely 
 baffles them. His arm is going on most 
 satisfactorily ; they can discover no other 
 injury beyond external cuts and bruises ; 
 still, it is evident the patient is in a state of 
 mental depression. Concussion of the brain, 
 whisper the faculty, and the more they con- 
 sider that view of Jim's case the less can 
 they arrive at a conclusion regarding it. 
 
 But it was reserved for Mr. Cherriton to 
 clear up the mystery, which that precocious 
 young gentleman did in a fashion all his 
 own. The Chirper was at that blessed time 
 of life when we believe implicitly in our 
 boyhood's idols. His faith in Jim Hawks- 
 bury's horsemanship, for instance, was un- 
 bounded ; indeed he had much general 
 belief in his brother -subaltern, but in a 
 medical point of view his trust was placed 
 in a certain Alec Donaldson, who had 
 nursed him through a nasty touch of ty- 
 phoid fever some four years previously. 
 The Chirper would have smiled compassion-
 
 " BY THE SALT WATERS " 29 
 
 ately had you suggested, that any of the 
 leaders of the profession in town were to 
 compare with his somewhat obscure friend 
 Donaldson. 
 
 " It's all bosh," observed the Chirper to 
 himself one morning, as he walked away 
 from Hawksburv's rooms ; " Jim's got no 
 more concussion of the brain than I have. 
 Jim's moped, bored, consumedly bored, and 
 no wonder at it — contemplating Muddle- 
 bury barrack-square for ten days would 
 take the bloom off my spirits, to say nothing 
 of his broken arm and the general demorali- 
 sation produced by a regular crumpler. 
 He must go away, of course he must. 
 When the doctors tell you there's a want 
 of tone, they mean your constitution requires 
 a fillip, and when you want a fillip, it 
 means of course you want a lark. If Jim 
 isn't quite up to a lark yet, he is fit for 
 a change at all events." 
 
 Mr. Cherriton's ideas of a change, as 
 concerned himself, usually took the form
 
 30 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 of a round of the London theatres, and 
 sundry suppers at Evans's, &c, supplemented 
 by breathing the invigorating air of Cre- 
 morne till as much past "the witching 
 hour of night" as could be indulged in, 
 compatible with the paternal legislation of 
 our degenerate times ; but he was quite 
 aware that this was far too powerful a 
 panacea for Jim Hawksbury in his present 
 state. Having, however, arrived at the 
 conclusion that change of air was what 
 his friend wanted, the Chirper, in* most 
 illogical fashion, came to the conclusion 
 that sea air was the desideratum. " If you 
 can't take your fillip in one form, Jim, 
 you must in another," argued Mr. Cherriton. 
 " You want ozone : Burnside, now, is famous 
 for its ozone. Besides, Alec Donaldson, the 
 cleverest medico in all England, lives there. 
 Combine change of air with change of 
 doctors, you see. Bless you, Alec and 
 Burnside will set you up in no time." 
 Hawksbury's medical attendants cordially
 
 fC BY THE SALT WATERS." 31 
 
 concurred in a change being advisable. 
 though strenuously insisting upon quiet as 
 absolutely necessary. Well, there were few 
 quieter spots than the little watering-place 
 Cherriton had suggested, and a few days 
 more saw Jim comfortably established there. 
 Donaldson, in whose hands he placed him- 
 self, really was a clever man. He pro- 
 nounced the Muddleburv doctors right in 
 their conjecture ; there had, no doubt, been 
 slight concussion of the brain, but at the 
 same time he saw no reason for alarm. All 
 such cases required quiet, and Burnside was 
 just the place for his patient ; let him 
 lounge about and do nothing, he could not 
 do better. And, in truth, Jim Hawksbury 
 was fain to own that was about as much as 
 he was at present fit for. He, naturally a 
 most energetic man, was now well content 
 to sit for hours and watch the lazy waters 
 as they rippled on the shingle. Though it 
 was late in November, the weather was still 
 mild and genial — that short span of steamy
 
 32 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 warmth sometimes vouchsafed us before the 
 first fierce outbreak of winter. Jim passed 
 much of his time in the open air. 
 
 Lounoino; one morning after his usual 
 custom on the promenade, he became con- 
 scious that he was attracting the attention 
 of two strangers. To study those who are 
 studying us, is a common instinct of 
 humanity ; it was but natural that Jim 
 should devote himself to observing the pair 
 who apparently took such an interest in 
 him. 
 
 A gentlemanly man about fifty, whose 
 hair and beard were freely grizzled, dark 
 eyes looking keenly out from a face which 
 showed traces of habitual ill-health. His 
 companion was a good-looking girl of seven- 
 teen, or thereabouts, straight as a pine and 
 supple as a willow in her lithe, well-rounded 
 figure ; the dark eyes, olive complexion, 
 and strong likeness existing between them 
 clearly indicated their close relationship. 
 
 The strangers and Jim passed some half-
 
 33 
 
 dozen times on the promenade, eyeing one 
 another with the peculiar intentness which 
 is observable amongst those who dwell by 
 the salt waters. Why it is so I can't say ; 
 but the man who goes on his way in a big 
 city, paying little heed to the concerns of 
 his neighbour, becomes absorbed in the 
 business of that neighbour should he en- 
 counter him by the sea-side. Away from 
 his accustomed occupation, from sheer ennui, 
 he adopts Mr. Pollaky's business, I presume, 
 and literally and emphatically keeps an eye 
 upon those who cross his track. 
 
 At length, as the strangers once more 
 met Hawksburv, the gentleman raised his 
 hat and courteously hoped that Jim had 
 nearly recovered from his fall. 
 
 "Thanks," replied the dragoon. "I am 
 getting all right again, now ; but I was a 
 good deal shaken, and indeed broken at the 
 time. Might I ask how you came to know 
 of my mishap ? " 
 
 " As it took place a good way from this, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 and you never set eyes on my daughter or 
 myself before," interrupted the stranger, 
 with a smile. "We were spectators of your 
 accident ; standing, in fact, at the very fence 
 where it occurred." 
 
 "Ah," replied Jim, gaily, and addressing 
 himself to the young lady, "I'm afraid I 
 made' a most unfavourable first appearance." 
 
 " It was terrible to look at," said the girl, 
 with a slight shiver. " It makes me feel 
 sick to think of it, even now." 
 
 i: Yes, Mr. Hawksbury, it was a bad fall to 
 look at. I really thought myself that you 
 were killed. As for Clarisse here, she 
 fainted outright/' 
 
 " I really regret," returned Jim, gallantly, 
 "that I should have so upset your nerves ; 
 but it was not my fault the mare was beat." 
 
 " I've some recollection in my own hunt- 
 ing days," observed the stranger, dryly, " of 
 having it drilled into me that the man who 
 rode a beaten horse at a fence was respon- 
 sible if grief came of it."
 
 35 
 
 Jim Hawksbury turned, rather sharply, 
 upon the speaker. Few gentlemen riders 
 can bear to hear their performance dis- 
 paraged, and to be lectured about his riding 
 of "Wilful Kate by an utter stranger was 
 more than the hussar could submit to, but 
 before he had time to reply, a soft voice 
 interposed : 
 
 "It would be only fair to Mr. Hawksbury, 
 papa, if you told him who we are. At 
 present we have the advantage of him in 
 that respect." 
 
 " Quite right, Clarissa Let me introduce 
 myself — Alfred Lydon, artist. Staying 
 here just now for the benefit of the sea 
 air, but my head-quarters are in town." 
 
 "I can only hope it is doing you as much 
 good as it is me," replied Jim, as he turned 
 up the promenade with his new friends. 
 
 That the acquaintance thus formed should 
 progress rapidly was little to be wondered 
 at. Hawksbury knew nobody else in Burn- 
 side but his doctor. The Lydons were 
 
 D 2
 
 36 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 similarly situated ; the very dulness of the 
 place threw them together. As Jim said 
 afterwards : " I went in for quiet, and by 
 Jove I got it. Doncaster, the week after 
 the Leger, is tumultuous compared with 
 Burnside." Still the perfect quiet, joined 
 with the change of air, had been the verv 
 thing he required in the first instance, and 
 now the society of the Lydons amused with- 
 out fatiguing him. Jim was progressing 
 rapidly towards complete recovery. 
 
 Alfred Lydon was somewhat of a mystery 
 to Hawksbury. The artist had seen much 
 of life, and his keen, caustic remarks on men 
 and manners amused the young man ex- 
 ceedingly ; still, although it was evident that 
 he was narrating personal experiences, he 
 never claimed to have been an actor in the 
 scenes he described. The curious part of 
 this to Jim was, that his allusions sometimes 
 had reference to that section of the London 
 world who devote themselves in these days 
 to Hurlingham and Princes, and wage battle
 
 "by the salt waters." 37 
 
 so fiercely at Epsom and Ascot. That lie 
 spoke correctly concerning it, albeit of a 
 time before polo was, and ere the sublime 
 conception of roller-skates had entered the 
 brain of their inventor, Jim knew quite 
 enough of the past history of that world to 
 feel assured ; yet according to his own 
 account, he was simply an artist, whose 
 home was in Canada, and whose sole errand 
 in England was to escape the greater severity 
 of a Canadian winter. 
 
 . From Clarisse Lydon Jim gathered little 
 more. Her father was an Englishman, but 
 he had married and settled in Lower 
 Canada, and till they had crossed the seas 
 upon their present errand she had never 
 been out of that country. Her mother had 
 been dead about two years, since which she 
 had kept house for her father, leaving the 
 convent, where she was at school indeed, for 
 that purpose. 
 
 When Jim inquired how it was they 
 happened to be present at the steeplechase,
 
 38 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 Lydon replied, briefly, "That lie had known 
 all that part of the world well in days gone 
 by, and having a curiosity to see it again, 
 made a small tour through it before going 
 to Burnside. Being in Muddlebury, we, of 
 course, heard of the races, and so went out 
 to see them. I had a taste that way once, 
 and know a horse or horseman when I see 
 him. That was a good mare you rode there, 
 and would have about won could you have 
 held her at starting." Concerning his En- 
 glish life, or of what part of the country he 
 belonged to, Lydon never spoke more plainly 
 than this. It contrasted strangely with the 
 openness with which he talked of the latter 
 or Canadian portion of his career ; and yet, 
 as a rule, it is the days of their early man- 
 hood that men most love to look back upon. 
 Days, it may be, of hard work and narrow 
 means ; but how we slept, and what spirits 
 and digestions we had in those times. 
 
 " And to-morrow you leave Burnside ! " 
 exclaimed Clarisse Lydon, as she and
 
 39 
 
 Hawksbuiy paced the little promenade, 
 with the quick step the keenness of a 
 closing November dav demanded : for what- 
 ever warmth may be in the weather towards 
 the end of autumn, it dies with the sun. 
 
 "Yes; it has been a very pleasant fort- 
 night, and done me no end of o;ood. I feel 
 quite set up again. Do you know I think 
 that you and your father have assisted my 
 convalescence not a little." 
 
 " How so ? " said the young lady. 
 
 " Well, you see, I was on the verge of 
 getting moped when you took compassion 
 on me, and inquired into my case," returned 
 Hawksbury, laughing. 
 
 "Nonsense," retorted Clarisse, "you had 
 your friend Mr. Donaldson to talk to ; and 
 I'm sure he is excellent company." 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; but then, you see, 
 Donaldson has his patients to look after, 
 and, from what I see of the practice, that 
 involves considerably more time than profit. 
 I should have had little of his companion-
 
 40 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 ship till after dinner ; and even then, as he 
 says, the extra-parochials send for him 
 sometimes because they're so bored they 
 think they must be ill." 
 
 "Ah, life here must be somewhat stag- 
 nant without employment ; but I feel 
 flattered to think we have been of service 
 to you." 
 
 " Indeed you have. Without the com- 
 panionship of yourself and Mr. Lydon, I 
 should not have derived a quarter of the 
 benefit ! " exclaimed Jim, warmly. 
 
 " I think you have done papa good, too. 
 Do you know, I never heard him talk to 
 anyone as he has done to you. Of course, I 
 don't understand half you say when you 
 speak of all that fashionable London life, 
 and I had no idea papa knew anything 
 about it either." 
 
 "He has known it well in bygone years, 
 Miss Lydon," replied Jim. " Of course, his 
 time was before mine there ; but I have 
 heard enough of the past, on various occa-
 
 "BY THE SALT WATEES. 41 
 
 sions, to feel sure lie mixed freely in it 
 once." 
 
 "Well, mind you come and see us at Ken- 
 sington, as you've promised. Bern ember, 
 I am in a similar case there to you here 
 — knowing: no one, and in sad danger of 
 getting moped. Would not that be ter- 
 rible V cried the girl, laughing. 
 
 "I shall be only too glad. But don't 
 forget, I don't live in town, and only visit 
 it at intervals." 
 
 " I am aware, sir, of the onerous duties 
 you owe to the State," replied Miss Lydou, 
 with a saucy smile ; "but when Broadshire 
 and the adjacent counties seem sufficiently 
 tranquil, we shall trust that you will honour 
 the metropolis." 
 
 Jim raised his hat as he replied, in a 
 similar sportive strain : " Miss Ly don's 
 lightest wish is a command. I shall look 
 forward to presenting myself in South Ken- 
 sington soon after Christmas." 
 
 " That will be good of you. And now,
 
 42 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 really, I think I must go in. Will you 
 come too, and have some tea ?" 
 
 "No, thanks. I promised Donaldson to 
 be ' home betimes, as it's my last day. I 
 have said good-bye to your father, and now, 
 sad to say, must do the like to you." 
 
 " Yes," replied the girl, as she stood 
 facing him. " We've had a very pleasant 
 time here, and papa and I should miss you 
 much if we were staying on, but we also 
 leave on Friday. Don't think, nevertheless, 
 that we shall not look forward to seeing you 
 again. Good-bye is a terrible word to say 
 when there is no prospect of that ; however, 
 that is not so in your case," and extending 
 her hand, Miss Lydon looked him frankly 
 in the face. 
 
 " God forbid," replied Jim, as he pressed 
 the little hand warmly. " We shall meet 
 again ere many weeks are passed," and then, 
 with a low reverence, Hawksbury took his 
 leave. 
 
 "You'll do now," said Donaldson next
 
 '*BY THE SALT WATERS. 
 
 morning, as he was seeing his quondan 
 patient off by the train. "The Chirper was 
 right when he sent you to me, insomuch as 
 all you wanted was quiet, fresh air, no 
 doctoring, and to be amused. I'm a poor 
 man, and can't quite afford to be honest, 
 or else I ouo-ht to send your fees over to 
 Miss Lydon ; she's done you more good 
 than I have.'' 
 
 " Don't be absurd," rejoined Jim, 
 brusquely. 
 
 " Can't see I am," retorted Donaldson. 
 " If you didn't find a pretty girl more 
 amusing than your humble adviser, I should 
 have augured very ill of your case. Time 
 you were off though, or you might have 
 taken another complaint — common enough, 
 but quite beyond our power to grapple 
 with." 
 
 " Hold vour miserable tongue," cried 
 Jim. " Ah, thank Heaven, here's the 
 train." 
 
 "Good-bye, old fellow," rejoined Donald-
 
 4.4 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 son, as lie exchanged a mighty hand-grip 
 with his charge. " Love to the Chirper, 
 and tell him if he don't send me patients 
 at the rate of half-a-score a quarter, I shall 
 have to betake myself somewhere else — 
 this neighbourhood is far too healthy to 
 support a new medical man."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 RINGSTONE ABBEY. 
 
 Ringstone Abbey, the seat of the Hawks- 
 burys, was a quaint, many-gabled country 
 house, built in the form of an L. It had 
 been oricrinallv a long, low mansion, run- 
 ning under seven gables, but about the 
 commencement of the eighteenth century, 
 the then reigning baronet, fancying he 
 required more room, either for his family 
 or his friends, built a short leg on to the 
 old building, and considerably spoilt the 
 picturesque appearance of its many-gabled 
 front — artistic tastes not being very pre- 
 valent amongst the hard -riding, hard- 
 drinking country gentlemen of those days,
 
 46 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 who were given to patching their houses 
 in most incongruous fashion. It stood in 
 a finely-wooded park, the grand old timber 
 in which had been carefully tended or 
 planted centuries before by the old monks, 
 who were then lords of Eino-stone : for the 
 present country house, like many others, 
 had sprung up on the ruins of a monastery, 
 the foundations and fish-ponds of which 
 were still to be traced in some broken 
 ground no great distance beyond the shrub- 
 beries. The Hawksburys, indeed, dated 
 their appearance in Broadshire from the 
 days when the monasteries went down. 
 They had probably little more ardour for 
 the Eeformed Faith than their sovereign 
 liege, or many other zealous reformers of 
 those days ; but they were a needy, 
 rapacious race, and when such a very fat 
 goose as the church of those times was to 
 be plucked, were little likely to be absent 
 from the plucking. At all events, a certain 
 Ealph Hawksbury and his two sons are
 
 RINGSTONE ABBEY. 47 
 
 recorded to have been very active in the 
 dissolution of the monasteries in those 
 parts, and to have obtained a considerable 
 assignment of the lands appertaining to the 
 Abbey of Ringstone, which they had been 
 at some pains to destroy, in acknowledg- 
 ment of the zeal they had displayed. 
 
 It was a queer, somewhat inconvenient, 
 old house, as most old houses are. 
 Antiquity and comfort are by no means 
 synonymous terms, and our ancestors not 
 only sat in vile, straight-backed chairs, 
 which, either from ignorance or cynicism, 
 they called easy, but were content to do 
 without many appurtenances which we 
 nowadays deem necessities. Baths and 
 bath-towels, for instance, were superfluities 
 of which our forefathers had never heard. 
 "Ringstone was neither much better nor 
 much worse than other old dwellings of 
 its kind. Its owners had from time to time 
 modernised its furnishing, and adopted the 
 latest improvements of the age — created a
 
 48 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 smoking-room, for example, filled with 
 lounges that might satisfy a lotus-eater ; 
 but the great glory of Eingstone was its 
 hall, a large, square -shaped apartment, 
 floored and panelled with dark oak run- 
 ning from basement to roof-tree, and with 
 nothing but a gallery, which traversed three 
 sides of it midway, to break its height. 
 Fitted up in all respects like a drawing- 
 room, the family habitually sat in this room, 
 the front door being fenced off by a screen, 
 which ran up to the bottom of the gallery 
 on that side. 
 
 " So we are to have Jim home to 
 dinner !" exclaimed a dark, vivacious little 
 lady, who was busying herself with some 
 water-colours near the fireplace. " I sup- 
 pose it was a nasty fall to look at, eh, 
 Letty?" 
 
 Miss Auriole raised her eyes from her 
 book, and paused a moment before she 
 replied. " I don't pretend," she said at 
 length, "to really ride to hounds like you,
 
 RINGSTONE ABBEY. 49 
 
 Sara ; still, you know, I often go hunting 
 in my own milder fashion. I've seen falls 
 before, but I never saw man and horse go 
 down like that. I felt a little like fainting ; 
 I really thought he was killed." 
 
 " Stupid, boy, I've no patience with him," 
 cried the other. " I intend to scold him 
 well when he arrives. What business had 
 he to ride the first wretch he was asked to ? 
 I don't understand his lingering so long- 
 
 DO O 
 
 at Burnside. It's not like Jim to be 
 content with a quiet watering-place. I 
 cannot help fearing that he is not so far 
 recovered as he says." 
 
 "Mr. Cherriton, when he wrote just 
 after the accident, said Jim was much 
 shaken generally ; remember " 
 
 " Yes, and that reminds me that I shall 
 have something to say to Mr. Cherriton 
 about his asking my brother to risk his 
 neck on that ill-tempered brute," replied 
 Miss Hawksbury, with a sharp, quick ncd 
 of her head. " He's a special crony of Jim's, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 and has been coming here twice, only some- 
 thing prevented him. So I don't suppose it 
 will be long; before we meet." 
 
 " I'm sure he looked unhappy enough 
 during the race, and was anticipating what 
 occurred from the moment he saw his mare 
 had got away with her rider." 
 
 " That's what I blame him for," retorted 
 Miss Hawksbury, imperiously. " He should 
 have had his anticipations sooner, and not 
 persuaded Jim to chance life and limb in his 
 service. What, Uncle Eobert !" exclaimed 
 the young lady, springing to her feet as the 
 door opened and admitted the rector's stal- 
 wart fioTire. " Whv are von not at Rickerby 
 Gate ?" 
 
 " Ah, very sad, Sara, isn't it ? Such a 
 scent as there'll be this morning, too. How- 
 ever, it couldn't be ; I'd a parish meeting to 
 see to, and have a funeral at three, or else I 
 should have come across to know if either 
 of you wanted an escort." 
 
 " He's getting better the last year or two,
 
 BOTGSTONE ABBEY. 51 
 
 Letty, and don't turn up his nose at a lane 
 as he used to do, or else I assure you, being 
 escorted by Uncle Robert necessitated real 
 hard riding, to keep one's escort in sight." 
 
 It would have been difficult to say which 
 had the more profound contempt for follow- 
 ing the hounds in that fashion, uncle or 
 niece, vet they always affected to be given 
 to so doing. 
 
 F Nonsense/' cried the rector, with a jolly 
 laugh. " You know better, Miss Auriole. 
 When the cloth does take a look at the 
 hounds, it always restricts itself to the use 
 of gates, gaps, and byways." 
 
 " Only in theory, I am afraid," replied 
 Letty, smiling. " I have seen the poor 
 sheep, at times, sore put to it to follow their 
 shepherd." 
 
 The Rev. Robert Hawksbury, Rector of 
 Ringstone, and only brother of Sir Randolph 
 Hawksbury, Bart., of Ringstone Abbey, in 
 the county of Broadshire, was a type of 
 parish priest fast disappearing. The better 
 
 e 2
 
 52 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 men of this kind lived upon excellent terms 
 with their parishioners, and did a great deal 
 of good after their own lights. Not much 
 given to schools, or the celebration of saints' 
 days, it is true ; but interesting themselves 
 considerably in the secular concerns of those 
 under their care. Free of advice, and un- 
 sparing of censure ; more anxious, perhaps, 
 for their parishioners' temporal than spiri- 
 tual welfare. The worst men of this type 
 of parson generally betook themselves to 
 drink and all manner of un cleanness ; but 
 these clergy of the days gone by are not to 
 be judged by the black sheep that were 
 among them. 
 
 Eobert Hawksbury was extremely popular 
 with his flock. He not only knew them, 
 but pretty well all their concerns, talked 
 confidentially over what was to be done 
 with Bill or Maggie when they were a 
 little older. "Set" the store pig, i.e., 
 estimated what it would weigh, or advised 
 about pruning the fruit-trees. There was
 
 EIXGSTOXE ABBEY. 53 
 
 no better judge of ricking, thatching, 
 hedging, ditching, underdraining. &c, in 
 all the country-side than the Eev. Robert, 
 and he was constantly appointed arbiter 
 of such points at the agricultural meetings 
 in the neighbourhood. If he had a rough 
 tongue for what he considered the pecca- 
 dilloes — and he utterly ignored a good 
 many that more modern clergymen would 
 weep over — they knew him to be free 
 of hand and kind of heart in time of 
 trouble. If the young men of Eingstone 
 preferred cricket to church on a Sunday 
 afternoon, they were little likely to be 
 lectured by their rector. He could by 
 no means be brought to see cruelty in 
 cockfight ing, holding with Chrysippus that 
 " cockfio-ktino: was the final cause of cocks," 
 and held privately that poaching was 
 the one sin a man could scarce make 
 atonement for. He was a keen sports- 
 man, and though he might joke about 
 gates and gaps, and use them, too, on
 
 54 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 occasion — no one in the hunt having 
 greater knowledge on those points — yet 
 scarce anyone went straighter when hounds 
 were running in earnest. Another faculty, 
 too, he had, and it is one which the poor 
 invariably regard with much veneration — 
 shrewdness. It was very difficult indeed 
 to humbuo- the Eev. Robert. He knew 
 the domestic affairs of his flock too well 
 forsooth for that — could put his finger 
 on drunken men, or feckless women, as 
 cause of want or destitution, or explain 
 that Hodge's garden failed to yield for 
 want of Hodge's work put into it. For 
 the rest, he always displayed a most 
 laudable curiosity on the subject of "birds'"' 
 and foxes, seldom failing to introduce 
 inquiry concerning them into his speech, 
 and preached two sermons a week, which 
 it is to be feared contained but one point 
 of an excellent discourse- — namely, brevity. 
 The Eev. Eobert, wiser than this garrulous 
 generation, knew that he figured to small
 
 BINGSTONE ABBEY. 55 
 
 advantage in the pulpit, a circumstance 
 that those privileged to occupy it seldom 
 seem conscious of. 
 
 " Well," continued the rector, after a 
 short pause, " you'll have Jim to take care 
 of you out hunting now for a spell." 
 
 " Unless his accident has changed him a 
 good deal, Jim invariably forgets our very 
 existence as soon as they find," said Miss 
 Hawksbury, laughing. 
 
 " It is a failing which runs in the family," 
 exclaimed Miss Auriole. " I've known you 
 desert me, Sara, without compunction under 
 those circumstances." 
 
 " It's in the blood, I'm afraid, Letty. 
 We suffer, both Sara and I," continued the 
 rector, with a smile on his lips. " She has 
 misgivings as to whether it's ladylike to be 
 in the first flight, and I as to whether it's 
 clerical ; yet we get there at times without 
 meaning it. There never was a Hawksbury 
 yet could stop his horse when hounds were 
 running."
 
 56 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 "No scandal about Queen Elizabeth," re- 
 torted Sara, her quick black eyes dancing 
 with fun. "When I am there I'm following 
 my Mentor, and very much shocked to find 
 what's come of it." 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; it's a very sad business 
 all round, and the less we say about it the 
 better. If we ought, as modest men, to be 
 dumb about our merits, as prudent people 
 we'd best be silent on our weaknesses," 
 observed the Kev. Robert, with mock 
 solemnity. 
 
 " As if it were possible, when favoured of 
 fortune, to be altogether silent about one's 
 good luck," rejoined Miss Hawksbury, in 
 demure imitation of her uncle's tone. " It 
 is so hard not to crow a wee bit when one 
 has had the best of it." 
 
 " Especially when Miss Lambton has had 
 very much the reverse, my dear," interposed 
 Miss Auriole. 
 
 At which observation the two burst into 
 a peal of laughter, for Miss Lambton was a
 
 EIXGSTOXE ABBEY. 57 
 
 rival Diana, of whom Sara Hawksbury en- 
 tertained considerable jealousy ; and how 
 jealous women can be of each other's horse- 
 manship is scarcely to be conceived. 
 
 " Well, I've some justice business to talk 
 over with your father/' said the rector, 
 rising, " so good-bye, girls, for the present. 
 I shall look in on you for lunch." 
 
 " Do," replied Sara, as Uncle Eobert 
 quitted the room. 
 
 A shrewd, quick-witted girl was Sara 
 Hawksbury, blessed with high spirits and 
 an excellent constitution. It was wonderful 
 what fatigue that slight, delicate figure could 
 endure. After hours passed in the saddle, 
 her foot would be as light in the dance as 
 her hand had been all day upon the bridle. 
 She never seemed to tire, her spirits never 
 seemed to fiao;. She was not altogether 
 popular, for her tongue, though never bitter, 
 was a little sharp. It was not that she said 
 biting things or made sarcastic remarks 
 about those she mixed with, but people
 
 58 SUXSHIXE AXD SNOW. 
 
 had an uneasy impression that she could, 
 if so minded. We have all met with those 
 who are regarded distrustfully on this 
 account. Society always views the power 
 of sarcasm with suspicion, and will pardon 
 inconceivable dulness sooner than the mere 
 thought of becoming its target. But Sara 
 Hawksbury was a warmhearted, sensible 
 girl, and very rarely gave vent to the 
 satiric humour that she undoubtedly pos- 
 sessed, rather addicted to athletics as far 
 as a lady may be, and sometimes filled 
 with slight compunctions that she went 
 perhaps a little too far in such pursuits, 
 but pleading in excuse that she couldn't 
 do things by halves, and that whether it 
 was hunting, skating, dancing, or what not, 
 she did it with all her might — a fault, if 
 it be one, that it would be as well if a good 
 many of us could fall into. 
 
 Though a practical girl enough, yet 
 Miss Hawksbury cherished one little bit of 
 romance. She did dearly hope that sooner
 
 EINGSTOXE ABBEY. 59 
 
 or later Letty Auriole and lier brother Jim 
 would understand one another. A very- 
 desirable arrangement that, had thought 
 more Hawksburys than Sara, albeit they 
 kept it pretty much to themselves ; but 
 both Sir Eandolph and my lady, for a 
 wonder, were of one mind on this point. 
 Uncle Eobert, too, with whom both Letty 
 Auriole and his nephew were prime 
 favourites, thought it would do very nicely. 
 The young lady, as before said, possessed 
 a handsome fortune, and, though Jim was 
 heir to Eingstone Abbey, yet the Hawks - 
 burys had never been a thrifty race, and 
 the property would be much improved by 
 the clearing off of sundry mortgages. One 
 objection only so far in this little arrange- 
 ment — to wit, that it never seemed to have 
 occurred to one of those principally in- 
 terested in its success. The idea had 
 never entered Jim Hawksbury's mind, and 
 had it been suggested to him, that volatile 
 
 CO ' 
 
 hussar would probably have replied that
 
 60 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 he had more important things to think of 
 than marriage, although, if cross-examined, 
 it might have puzzled him somewhat to 
 enumerate them. Still, it is little likely 
 that the scheme will not be brought before 
 him in due course. Sir Kandolph is hardly 
 the man to leave anybody in ignorance 
 of his wishes on any point, or to forgive 
 the slightest contravention of them — an 
 indolent despot, not troubling himself as 
 to how things went in his little world as 
 long as they did not interfere with his 
 own whims or comforts ; but no more 
 domestic autocrat existed than the cynical 
 easy - going baronet when aroused, and 
 though both his children were tolerably 
 strong-willed, yet they habitually listened 
 to Sir Kandolph with considerable respect 
 when he bestirred himself in earnest. 
 
 As for Lady Hawksbury, she was an in- 
 sincere woman, who deemed herself a very 
 Machiavelli in petticoats. Standing in con- 
 siderable awe of her despotic spouse, and
 
 PJXGSTOXE ABBEY. 61 
 
 even in some slight measure of her straight- 
 forward son and daughter, she always sought 
 to gain her ends by the most transparent 
 scheming. Her husband would at times 
 look on rather amused at her machinations, 
 at others would ruthlessly and contemp- 
 tuously expose them. A woman that it was 
 impossible to like, she was so palpably insin- 
 cere, such social change as she spent was so 
 unmistakably of base metal ; even when she 
 really was delighted to see people, and told 
 them so, it sounded like the veriest bit of 
 humbug possible. From always acting a 
 part, she had at last lost all natural cha- 
 racter. She was purely artificial as regards 
 her feelings — as complete a psychological 
 sham as some of her compeers, who would 
 fain bloom perennial, are materially. Sooner 
 or later it is plain that Sir Eandolph and 
 my lady will interfere, each in their own 
 fashion, in behalf of this alliance that they 
 have decided on for their first-born. 
 
 And what might be Letty Auriole's
 
 62 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 thoughts on this matter, if thought she had 
 about it ? Be that as it may, she kept 
 her own counsel, as modest maiden might ; 
 and Sara Hawksbury was far too true- 
 hearted a girl and far too shrewd to seek to 
 force her friend's confidence, or to mar her 
 own pet scheme, by premature hint of the 
 same to either of those concerned. Up to 
 the present the Hawksbury family had all 
 refrained from interference in what appeared 
 to them a most desirable arrangement, but a 
 desire to assist the course of events is so 
 inherent a passion of our nature that it can 
 scarcely be supposed that they will practise 
 such abstinence much longer.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " IS MISS LYDON PEETTY ? " 
 
 Jim IiAWKSBcrri, as we have seen, scoffed 
 at the idea of being smitten by Clarisse 
 Lydon, but he thought a good deal about 
 her all the same as the train whirled him 
 away from Burnside. Thought over their 
 good-bve, and reflected he should have felt 
 very loath to think that they were not to 
 meet again and that soon. Still a man 
 might feel that, and not be the least in 
 danger of entertaining warmer sentiments. 
 
 " Fellows always will gabble so if one 
 walks half-a-dozen times with a pretty girl, 
 and insist upon it you're spooning," mut- 
 tered Jim. "What an ass Donaldson is."
 
 64 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 Then lie began to reflect that Mr. Cher- 
 riton had agreed to meet him on the way 
 and pay his twice-postponed visit to Pang- 
 stone, and that he had quite forgotten to 
 write to his mother to tell her he was bring- 
 ing a friend with him. It didn't matter, he 
 could telegraph, and if he could not it still 
 didn't matter. 
 
 London is reached at last ; but Jim speeds 
 across from Waterloo to King's Cross, and 
 snatches such " fitful meal " as a railway 
 station permits. A meal at a railway 
 station, like sleep in a railway carriage, is a 
 thing of fits and starts, and the food and 
 the sleep are about equally unsatisfactory. 
 On again, up the Great North Eoad at a 
 pace that would make the travellers of fifty 
 years ago speechless even to think about, 
 till, with a scream, midst shrieks of " Change 
 here !" the train pulls up at Ketford Junc- 
 tion, one of those centres from which tra- 
 vellers branch off in all directions — directions 
 at times most unexpected, such as finding
 
 "is miss lydon pretty?" 65 
 
 themselves on their way to Manchester 
 when believing they are journeying to 
 York. 
 
 Mid all the bustle and apparent confusion, 
 Jim soon catches sight of Mr. Cherriton, 
 calm and serene, with a well-subsidised 
 porter in charge of his belongings. 
 
 " All right. Jim ! " exclaimed that gentle- 
 man, as he shook hands. " Got room 
 in there. You don't change, which is 
 something to be thankful for. You do, 
 apparently, to get anywhere else, and the 
 variety offered makes selection difficult." 
 
 "All right, there you are, my man," con- 
 tinued the Chirper, as he stepped into the 
 carriage. " Main object of the officials here 
 seems to be continually clearing the plat- 
 form ; if they can only get people and port- 
 manteaus into the carriages, it don't matter 
 what becomes of them. By Jove, old fellow, 
 you're beginning to look yourself again." 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right. What's the news at 
 Muddlebury ? How's the regiment ? " 
 
 YOL. I. F
 
 GG SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 " Muddlebury is in its usual state of 
 unmitigated dulness. I suppose knife-grind- 
 ing isn't an inspiriting occupation ; and 
 that's what Muddlebury gets its living by, 
 you see. I forget bow many knives and 
 forks they turn out per annum ; but there's 
 no excuse, I know, for anyone eating with 
 their fingers." 
 
 " And the regiment ? " 
 
 " A little low about the near approach of 
 Christmas and its liabilities, otherwise pretty 
 nourishing," replied the Chirper. " Quite 
 resigned to quit Muddlebury at any moment 
 it may please the Horse Guards, in their 
 wisdom, to decree." 
 
 "It's not to be called a good quarter," 
 said Jim, " though its being so handy to my 
 own county makes it suit me better than the 
 rest of you." 
 
 Beguiling the way with tobacco and regi- 
 mental gossip, the two friends in due time 
 arrived at Horeby, where a wagonette was 
 awaiting to carry them to Eingstonc. As
 
 "is miss lydon pretty?" 67 
 
 they entered the hall, Sara sprang forward 
 to welcome her brother, and it was not till 
 he had released himself from her embrace, 
 and shaken hands with Miss Auriole, that 
 Jim was enabled to call their attention to 
 the Chirper, who stood nnperceived in the 
 background, regarding what he irreverently 
 described afterwards as "a volcanic eruption 
 of family affection" with his accustomed 
 nonchalance. It took a good deal to disturb 
 that precocious young gentleman's self-pos- 
 session, but he was a little taken aback by 
 Miss Hawksbury's greeting. 
 
 "Very glad indeed to see you, Mr. 
 Cherriton ; though I wonder you have the 
 hardihood to trust yourself amongst us so 
 soon." 
 
 The cornet bowed as he shook hands, 
 and marvelled greatly what the young lady 
 meant. That he could be remotely con- 
 nected with having anything to do with 
 Jim's accident never crossed his mind ; but 
 he had not much time to think about it, 
 
 F 2
 
 68 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 for there was Lady Hawksbury to be in- 
 troduced to, who welcomed him with an 
 excess of fervour that made Mr. Cherriton 
 make some mental observations of a trite 
 though scarce complimentary nature ; but 
 finally, when she told him she regarded 
 him as her sons preserver, the Chirper, 
 suddenly recanting all his previous con- 
 victions, arrived at the conclusion that the 
 good lady was incurably addicted to hoaxing 
 her fellow- creatures. 
 
 It was really with some sense of relief 
 that he met Letty Auriole's pleasant " Mr. 
 Cherriton must allow me to claim ac- 
 quaintance with him, although we met 
 under somewhat unfortunate circumstances 
 near Muddlebury." 
 
 " Of course I recollect — that is, it would 
 have been impossible to forget, you know. 
 You lent me a wheel to stand upon. Very 
 good of you, indeed, Yes, shocking business; 
 lost our money, and the mare's never got 
 over it, sad to say."
 
 '•'is miss lydox phettyT G9 
 
 " To tell the truth," replied Miss Auriole, 
 smiling, " I was thinking of how very near 
 Mr. Hawksbury was not getting over it." 
 
 " By Jove, yes. What a brute you must 
 think me. I assure you, I was as much 
 cut up about Jim as anyone could be, 
 Miss Auriole ; but you see, when one sees 
 him all right again, one forgets all that 
 sort of thing.'' 
 
 Letty Auriole did not feel inclined to 
 charge Mr. Cherriton with selfishness. She 
 had seen how anxious he had been during 
 the race, and knew, as they all knew at 
 Ein^stone, how devotedly he had watched 
 by Jim's bedside in those first feverish days 
 that had followed his fall. 
 
 But the dressing-bell cut short further 
 conversation, though the Chirper, while 
 conferring with himself over the perfecting 
 of his necktie, as is not unusual with man- 
 kind, came to the conclusion that Lady 
 Hawksbury would take a deal of under- 
 standing. Miss Hawksbury's speech had
 
 70 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 been made clear to him by his subsequent 
 talk with Letty Auriole. 
 
 "Well, and what do you think of Mr. 
 Cherriton ? " inquired Letty, as the ladies 
 regained the drawing-room after dinner. 
 " Did you have that severe word with him 
 you threatened this morning, when you 
 little thought you were to meet him so 
 soon ? " 
 
 "He's charming," returned Miss Hawks- 
 bury. " Such a thoroughly audacious boy, 
 it would be difficult to be angry with him. 
 It really was very funny to hear his in- 
 dignation when I rather insinuated that he 
 ought to have ridden such an awkward 
 animal himself, and not have asked Jim to 
 risk his neck." 
 
 " Was he very angry ? " asked Miss 
 Auriole, smiling. 
 
 "Yes, indeed; I began to think I should 
 never pacify him ; and had to listen to so 
 long a story of his sprained wrist, and how 
 Jim could ride anything, that I somewhat
 
 "is miss lydox pretty?" 71 
 
 repented of my maliciousness. However, 
 we are great friends again now. What did 
 Jim tell you about Burnside ? how did he 
 get through his days there ? " 
 
 CD O 
 
 " Oh, he said it did him a deal of good, 
 and that he thought Dr. Donaldson clever- 
 Pronounced it stupid, as I should imagine 
 a small watering-place in Xovember would 
 be." 
 
 " I hear he picked up some new friends 
 there/' rejoined Sara Hawksbury carelessly ; 
 " but as he didn't mention them I suppose 
 they didn't interest him much. Lydon, or 
 some such name — artist people — I think 
 Mr. Cherriton said." 
 
 The Chirper, although perfectly unaware 
 of the fact, had been under a forcing-pump 
 during the latter part of dinner. His friend 
 Donaldson, in a letter telling him how 
 Hawksbury was improving, had laughingly 
 remarked that his patient had made ac- 
 quaintance with some people of the name 
 of Lydon, and that a prettier nurse a con-
 
 72 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 valescent need not wish for than Miss 
 Lydon. To a remark of Sara's that it was 
 surprising the dulness and solitude of Burn- 
 side should have done her brother so much 
 good, Mr. Cherriton had replied that he 
 fancied Jim had found some very agreeable 
 people there. Miss Hawksbury's attention 
 was aroused, and by insidious cross-exa- 
 mination it need be scarcely said she was 
 soon in possession of all the Chirp er had to 
 tell her — amounting to very little, it must 
 be owned — but Sara, with her pet project 
 ever in mind, viewed with suspicion every 
 pretty girl who dawned upon her brother's 
 horizon ; and on that point Mr. Cherriton 
 was clear, to wit, that Miss Lydon was 
 goodly to look upon. 
 
 Letty paid small attention to her friend's 
 remark — not the girl, this, to give her love 
 unsought. It was but natural her cheek 
 should blanch at seeing Hawksbury's fall, 
 when we bear in mind that she had been 
 brought up in the family ; and Mr. Cher-
 
 IS MISS LYDOX PRETTY \ 
 
 riton was by no means warranted in the 
 deduction lie drew upon that occasion. Sir 
 Eandolph had been left guardian to Letty, 
 in conjunction with an uncle, by her mother 
 some fifteen years before, but the little girl 
 was by no means an heiress at that time. 
 It was not till the death of her maternal 
 grandfather, which happened about four 
 years previous to the time of which I am 
 writing, that Letty Auriole inherited the 
 hundred thousand pounds of which she was 
 now possessed. Previous to that, she had 
 only the fifteen thousand pounds settled on 
 her mother upon her marriage, and which 
 came to Letty under that settlement. 
 
 " Very nice, indeed, of Mr. Cherriton to 
 pay us a visit," interposed Lady Hawks- 
 bury. " I believe he was kindness itself to 
 Jim, although he was very near being the 
 death of him. It will be pleasant for you, 
 Letty, to have Jim as a hunting escort, 
 more especially as the doctors won't allow 
 him to ride at present."
 
 74 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 My lady was wont to be rather dis- 
 jointed in her discourse ; but, to do her 
 justice, when she said her son was forbidden 
 to ride, she meant from a Hawksbury point 
 of view, moderate equestrian exercise being 
 by no means regarded in such light by that 
 especially hard-riding family. 
 
 " Two very prudent cavaliers they are 
 like to be, at present," laughed Miss Hawks- 
 bury; "for Mr. Cherriton's wrist is still so 
 weak, he tells me, that he can only really 
 use one hand. I don't fancy they intend to 
 do much in the huntino* way, mamma." 
 
 The entrance of the gentlemen from the 
 dining-room cut short further speculation as 
 to their future proceedings, and Sara Hawks- 
 bury beckoned her brother to a seat by her 
 side, with the design of cross-examining him 
 on his doings at Burnside. Had Jim 
 guessed her intention, it is probable he 
 would have declined her invitation. They 
 were excellent friends, those two ; but, 
 without the slightest suspicion of the
 
 '•'is miss lydox pretty?" 75 
 
 reason, it did strike Jim that his sister was 
 most unnecessarily inquisitive concerning 
 his feminine acquaintance. Upon this occa- 
 sion he had no idea of the knowledge she 
 had come by. 
 
 " Burnside seems to have set you up ; but 
 you must have found it terribly dull," com- 
 menced Miss Hawksbury, insidiously. 
 
 " No, not particularly so. I was too 
 upset, you know, to wish for much so- 
 ciety/' replied her brother, disposing a stray 
 cushion rather more luxuriously for his own 
 accommodation. 
 
 " What on earth did you do V 
 
 " AVhat I went there for : looked at the 
 sea, and inhaled the sea-breezes." 
 
 " But it must have been so wearisome 
 having no one to speak to." 
 
 " Oh, there was Donaldson, you know, 
 and conversation is not quite such a neces- 
 sity with us as with you." 
 
 " Don't be rude, sir," replied Miss 
 Hawksburv. " Dr. Donaldson had his
 
 76 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 patients to attend to, so you couldn't talk 
 to him all day." 
 
 "No, nor to anyone else," retorted Jim, 
 jesuitically. "I wasn't up to it. I shouldn't 
 have or t well if I had. I was ordered to 
 
 o 
 
 keep quiet." 
 
 " You are equivocating, Jim," said Miss 
 Hawksbury, with mock solemnity. " You 
 had better confess at once. Whom did you 
 fraternise with ? " 
 
 " Oh, the boatmen ! Then there was such 
 a jolly old coastguard, Sara." 
 
 " That you used to walk up and down 
 the parade with," observed Miss Hawksbury, 
 demurely. " I heard as much." 
 
 " Ah, well ! If you know all about him, 
 it's no use my going on. No, I wasn't 
 particularly dull, thank you," said Jim, 
 now quite awake to the impending 
 attack. 
 
 "Is Miss Lydon pretty?" inquired Sara, 
 abruptly. 
 
 " If you'll tell me where she lives I'll
 
 CC IS MISS LYDON PRETTY?" 77 
 
 write and inquire," rejoined her brother, 
 with great nonchalance. 
 
 " Jim, if there was no one but ourselves 
 here I'd box your ears," whispered Miss 
 Hawksbuiy, laughing. 
 
 " What is it you want to know, you 
 little vixen 
 
 ?•• 
 
 " Why, all about Miss Lydon, of 
 
 course." 
 
 " Then, why didn't you ask about Miss 
 Lydon at once, instead of beating about the 
 bush in this fashion ?" 
 
 " Is she pretty ? " asked Miss Hawksbury, 
 pertinaciously. 
 
 " She's rather nice-looking." 
 
 "And pleasant to talk to, I suppose." 
 
 " She's a very charming girl, and her 
 father a most amusing man," returned 
 Jim. 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 " Canadians. He is an artist ; and now 
 really you know as much about them as I 
 do. If you'd like to hear about that old
 
 78 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 coastguardsman, I'll tell you his history," 
 said Jim, impressively. 
 
 "No, thank you ; I don't care about 
 hearing any further particulars about that 
 ancient mariner. I was only curious about 
 the lady, because you made such an un- 
 necessary mystery of her," rejoined Miss 
 Hawksbury, with all her sex's profound 
 indifference to accuracy. 
 
 " I don't think I've made any of her," 
 retorted Jim. " I resisted cross-examination 
 when I found myself in the box, that was all." 
 
 "You had better confide in me for the 
 future. Your little flirtations always reach 
 my ears sooner or later; usually sooner," 
 observed Miss Hawksbury, dryly. 
 
 Jim laughed as he rose and strolled across 
 to his mother. It was vain to argue with 
 his sister on this point he knew. It was 
 her custom to denounce any civility he 
 might offer to a lady as flirtation, in which 
 habit Miss Hawksbury was by no means 
 singular among women.
 
 "is miss lydox pretty?" 79 
 
 " And so you don't like Muddlebury, 
 Mr. Cherriton V remarked Miss Auriole. 
 
 " No, and it's not quite our fault. 
 Muddlebury, unlike the Grande Duchesse, 
 don't dote upon the military, and thinks the 
 sooner we go where glory waits us the 
 better." 
 
 "And that in your case means Aldershot? " 
 said Letty, interrogatively. 
 
 " Yes ; we go there in the spring, where 
 glory in its pacific form of field-days and 
 wio-oringrs doubtless awaits us." 
 
 DO © 
 
 " Wiggings ! " exclaimed Letty. 
 
 " I beg pardon, Miss Auriole ; it's military 
 slang for irascible fault-finding. Unfavour- 
 able, but by no means reticent, criticism of 
 one's efforts to serve one's country." 
 
 " Ah, you mean the generals get angry 
 when you make mistakes," cried Letty. 
 
 " Bather, and when we don't as well. I 
 regret to say it's not confined to the 
 generals, but spreads like an epidemic 
 through the senior ranks. A field-day, Miss
 
 80 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 Auriole, either ends in a hurricane of wrath 
 or universal contentment." 
 
 " Like a real battle, in congratulations or 
 bitter anguish." 
 
 "Just so," replied Mr. Cherriton, grin- 
 ning ; " only we get over the bitter anguish 
 state rather quicker at Aldershot. After 
 lunch and a cigar we usually feel ourselves 
 again." 
 
 "And I suppose," said Miss Auriole, 
 much amused, "that praise and blame are 
 meted out in somewhat zigzag fashion, 
 much after the manner of Old Bailey justice, 
 as described in Hook's ' Gilbert Gurney.' 
 You remember, they acquitted and found 
 the prisoners guilty alternately, without 
 regard to evidence." 
 
 " Precisely ! " exclaimed the Chirper, glee- 
 fully ; "all commendation to-day, general 
 diffusion of wiggings to-morrow. It's 
 always a toss-up which." 
 
 " Take care," cried Letty, laughing ;
 
 " suppose I were to publish these terrible 
 disclosures " 
 
 " Impossible ! " retorted Mr. Cherriton, 
 with an affectation of great dismay. " My 
 prospects in life, Miss Auricle, are in your 
 hands." 
 
 " Well, I must pledge myself to be dis- 
 creet. It would be too sad to think that a 
 hero's career should be nipped in the bud by 
 the imprudence of a woman's tongue." 
 
 "Thanks, Miss Auriole," replied Mr. 
 Cherriton, gaily ; " that is step the first, so 
 clever people tell me. Once get the ladies 
 to believe in your future, and the men soon 
 follow suit. Will you promise to use your 
 influence in my behalf the first time you've 
 a chance ? " 
 
 " It's not very likely, I fear, that oppor- 
 tunity will come to me, but you may count 
 upon me if it should," rejoined Letty, with 
 marked gravity. 
 
 " I'll tell you one thing," said the Chirper, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 SUNSHINE AND SXOW. 
 
 lowering his voice, and glancing round as if 
 in some trepidation lest his words should be 
 overheard ; " our heads are gentlemen, you 
 know, and when that's the case they always 
 find it rather hard to say ' No ' to a lady. 
 As Alec Donaldson says — you don't know 
 him, I suppose — no, of course you don't," 
 continued Mr. Cherriton, as Letty made a 
 sign of dissent. " He's deep, very deep, is 
 Alec ; well, as he says, ' if you want any- 
 thing out of anybody, always trust to a 
 woman's influence in preference to a man's.' 
 Now, as I said before, Alec is clever, and I 
 believe in Alec." 
 
 "Yon mean the Mr. Donaldson that has 
 been taking care of Jim ? " inquired Letty, 
 much amused. 
 
 " Just so," returned Mr. Cherriton, nodding 
 his head solemnly. " He can patch up 
 schemes as well as constitutions, can Alec." 
 
 " Ah well, Lady Hawksbury is looking 
 for her bedroom candle, so I suppose it is 
 time to retire. But depend upon it, Mr.
 
 "is miss lydox pretty?" 83 
 
 Cherriton, when I have divisions and com- 
 mands to bestow," said Letty, rising, " I 
 shall not forget your claims. Good- 
 night." 
 
 " I say, Jim," said the Chirper, as a little 
 later he lay coiled up in his arm-chair behind 
 a big cigar in the smoking-room, "it feels 
 deuced like a frost ; and if not positively 
 sinful, I can't help hoping the thermometer 
 will drop pretty near to zero." 
 
 " Why so ? " inquired Hawksbury, lazily. 
 
 " Why, you see, we can't hunt ourselves, 
 you and I — that is, not to do any good, you 
 know, on account of our luck, and it's so 
 provoking to see other fellows going in for 
 it. I'm not malicious, and don't bear my 
 fellow- creatures any ill-will as a rule," con- 
 tinued the Chirper, plaintively, " but I can't 
 help wishing it would freeze some, under the 
 circumstances. It's too aggravating." 
 
 "'You're a nice amiable young man, upon 
 my word ! " said Jim Hawksbury. " You 
 can't hunt, so let there be no more hunting. 
 
 g 2
 
 84 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 What an awful frame of mind to retire to 
 rest in." 
 
 " You're right, it is," retorted Mr. Cher- 
 riton, grinning. " Pass the whisky ; I'm not 
 iit to go there yet."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 
 
 Verjuice to our feelings is the first tap of 
 old age at our door. When we find we 
 cannot walk as we once did ; when hand 
 and eye begin to fail a little : when those 
 rocketers we could once bring down so deftly 
 pass over our heads scathless ; when the 
 fences seem bigger than of yore, and our 
 accuracy in making a losing hazard seems to 
 have unaccountably departed — a terrible time 
 that for those keenly addicted to all such 
 pursuits, and who, having been of the first 
 flight, now find themselves compelled to 
 succumb to younger blood. They do not 
 subside into the second place without much
 
 86 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 repining and irritable excuse for their short- 
 comings. Want of health or want of condi- 
 tion they mutter when the stubbles prove 
 so wearisome ; their horses are only half 
 broken ; the billiard-table is not fit to play 
 upon. It is no use, my friends, you have 
 shot your bolt ; have reached the zenith of 
 your life, and are now steadily progressing 
 towards its nadir. After a little we become 
 more reconciled to our lot ; are content to 
 enjoy such amusement as we may yet- 
 compass without caring that we are beaten 
 at our pet pastime ; but it is somewhat 
 bitter, that first discovery that' we are not 
 what we once were. Sir Eandolph has of 
 ate admitted this sadly to himself, and it 
 has made him wondrous shy of joining in 
 those field sports of which he has been all his 
 life so arduous a supporter. 
 
 It was not his age, for he was not very far 
 past fifty, and men constantly show no sign 
 of failing till much later on ; but Sir 
 Eandolph had lived hard in his younger
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 8/ 
 
 days, and drawn freely on his physique. 
 Constitutions, like estates, are not inex- 
 haustible, and men run through, the former 
 quite as easily as the latter, spending at 
 times, indeed, the two together, and pre- 
 paring for themselves a premature old age 
 by no means lovely to look upon. At this 
 epoch of their lives men are apt to take up 
 strange fancies ; avarice, for instance, often 
 contracted about this period, and great 
 anxiety displayed concerning our hoard in 
 this world just as it behoves us to be 
 thinking of another. 
 
 I am not' speaking of any particular age 
 in man's life ; merely of that time when he 
 first becomes conscious and reluctantly 
 admits that he is growing old. It may 
 come to him at forty, at sixty, at eighty; it 
 is impossible to say. There was a well- 
 known hunting man in the shires but a few 
 years ago who was bad to beat in his 
 eightieth year. 
 
 It had certainly taken root of late in Sir
 
 88 SUNSHINE AXD SNOW. 
 
 Banclolpli's mind that it was the duty of his 
 son to repair such holes as he, Sir Eandolph, 
 had made in the property ; in short, Jim 
 was to tinker the family kettle by a wealthy 
 marriage. Getting exceeding anxious about 
 the integrity of the Eingstone estate is Sir 
 Eandolph, just as it is becomiDg more an 
 affair of his son's than his own. While he 
 could hunt four days a week and shoot two 
 during the winter time, and thoroughly enjoy 
 his London season, the baronet had recked 
 little of his early indiscretions, and troubled 
 his head less about Jim's doings, providing 
 he made no great demand for supplies in 
 excess of his allowance. But when gout 
 and failing health reduced Sir Eandolph to 
 pass much time by the fireside, he began, 
 like many men in similar cases, to breed 
 crotchets and hatch whimseys. Impossible, 
 he thought, to leave the world with satisfac- 
 tion till the estate was quite clear again. 
 Jim must wed someone sufficiently well 
 dowered to do that. Of course he didn't care
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 89 
 
 whom, but with an heiress like Letty Auriole 
 close at hand, it really seemed superfluous to 
 look farther. He has no intention of speak- 
 ing to Jim on the subject at present ; he 
 will bide his time, and not interfere till he 
 deems it expedient. Meanwhile he sits 
 brooding on what is like to prove an addled 
 
 The malignant Chirper is gratified next 
 morning by finding his hopes fulfilled. The 
 ground is white with a hoar-frost, and the 
 evergreens glittering with icy gems. The 
 feathers of the robin stand up, and he has 
 taken upon himself that aspect of rotund 
 dejection he always exhibits in hard weather, 
 presenting nothing but a fluffy and discon- 
 solate little ball to the spectator, from the 
 midst of which peer his keen, greedy little 
 eyes. The blackbirds and thrushes hop des- 
 pondently across the lawn ; small chance of 
 the worm being: abroad this mornino* rise 
 the blackbird never so early. Our feathered 
 contemporaries always look sad in a hard
 
 90 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 frost, as for the matter of that so do our 
 poorer brethren. There is mighty little 
 pleasure in that exhilarating air when it is 
 cutting through insufficient clothing, and 
 small use in an exceeding appetite when 
 there is nothing wherewith to satisfy it. A 
 sharp frost may he a joyous time with the 
 well-to-do, but it is not attended with much 
 mirth as concerns the birds and that portion 
 of humanity who live from hand to mouth 
 — portentous difficulty about obtaining the 
 necessary worm in both cases. 
 
 " A clear dispensation of nature this in 
 favour of your infirmities," exclaimed Letty 
 Auriole, as she greeted Mr. Cherriton at the 
 breakfast-table. 
 
 "Yes," replied that gentleman, benignly, 
 "it seems as if Jim and I were going to 
 have a turn." 
 
 " Of enforced indolence," interrupted 
 Miss Hawksbury, laughing. " Don't natter 
 yourself, Mr. Cherriton, that we mean to let 
 you off so easy. There are plenty of thiDgs
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 91 
 
 to be done in a frost. We must look up our 
 skates, Letty." 
 
 "Capital idea," cried Cherriton. "The 
 next question is, will the ice bear ? " 
 
 " No," said Jim Hawksbury, as he dived 
 into the recesses of a cold game-pie, "luckily 
 for you it won't. Judging from the last 
 time I saw you on skates, Chirper, I should 
 say you require your hands quite as much as 
 your feet when disporting yourself on the 
 ice." 
 
 " One don t make omelettes without 
 breaking eggs, nor cut eights without 
 getting croppers," replied Cherriton, senten- 
 tiously. " I was ambitious, Miss Auriole." 
 
 "An ambition which brought its own dis- 
 comfiture apparently," laughed Letty. 
 
 " Quite so. Perhaps, upon the whole, it 
 is as well the ice don't bear." 
 
 " I really don't quite know what we're to 
 do," said Miss Hawksbury, meditatively. 
 
 "Do! " cried a jolly voice from the door, 
 which had opened noiselessly during Sara's
 
 92 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 last remark, " there's always plenty of fun to 
 be had in a frost. Good morning to you all. 
 How are you, Mr. Cherriton ? I trust King- 
 stone air and Eingstone claret brought you 
 peaceful slumbers. Do ! bless my soul, Sara, 
 such a day for pike-fishing. They'll be 
 greedy for food this weather. I've just run 
 up to propose a day on the lake. Trolling 
 for us, and a little trimmering for the ladies 
 when they come up with the lunch. What 
 do you say, Jim ? " 
 
 "The very thing. I don't think either 
 the Chirper or myself can use a rod, but we 
 can manage the trimmers well enough." 
 
 " How nice of you to think of it, Uncle 
 Eobert," exclaimed Miss Hawksbury. 
 
 " I wonder it didn't occur to you at once, 
 Sara. You and I have pulled out a big fish 
 before now when the ground was like iron, 
 and the water edged with ice. I'll go and 
 look after the tackle, if you'll see to the 
 creature comforts. Don't forget the cherry 
 brandy, it'll be comforting on the lake."
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 93 
 
 " Particularly so," muttered the Chirper, 
 sotto voce. He had no experience or great 
 opinion of fishing in any shape, and be- 
 thought him of sundry acquaintances who 
 had often summed up their three weeks' 
 salmon-fishing much in this fashion: "Water 
 thick as pea-soup all the time I was 
 there. I only got three rises and not a fish." 
 " However," reflected Mr. Cherriton, " a 
 good lunch, a well-filled cigar case, and the 
 cherry brandy will carry one through, even 
 should the Eev. Hawksbury turn out to 
 have been unduly sanguine." But the rest 
 of the party knew better, and had often 
 witnessed rare sport upon the lake. Plenty 
 of good fish to be taken there an they would 
 bite, and your pike's appetite is keen in 
 '*' the hard gray weather," when the black 
 north-easter 
 
 Sweeps the golden reed-becls, 
 Crisps the lazy dyke, 
 
 Hungers into madness 
 Every plunging pike.
 
 94 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 The rector is off to confer with keepers con- 
 cerning rods, bait, &c, turning in the door- 
 way to exhort the girls to wrap well up, for 
 it will be cold on the lake. 
 
 " As for you fellows," he continued, good- 
 humouredly, " the work should keep you 
 warm enough." 
 
 " We mean doing our best, Uncle Bobert,"* 
 laughed Jim : " but we've only a sound arm 
 apiece." 
 
 " Ah ! I forgot that. Never mind ; 
 you've a hand apiece for the oars, and we 
 must trust to the trimmers to keep you em- 
 ployed. Come down when you're ready. 
 You'll find me on the water." 
 
 " Is pike-fishing great fun, Miss Auriole ?" 
 inquired the Chirper, in a low tone. 
 
 " Of course it is when there are plenty of 
 fish on the trimmers and the rods are in 
 luck, Punctilious people call the former 
 poaching work, but we don't mind that at 
 Eingstone." 
 
 Two o'clock saw a neat pony-carriage pull
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 95 
 
 up at a summer-house on the lake-bank, 
 from which the attendant groom speedily 
 unearthed and then proceeded to unpack a 
 most comfortable-looking hamper. Jim and 
 Cherriton, who had passed their morning 
 putting down trimmers, were smoking 
 gravely at the rendezvous, and had been 
 awaiting its arrival with much interest. 
 
 " Most gratifying, such attention," cried 
 Miss Auriole, gaily, as she sprang lightly 
 from the carriage. 
 
 "A most unbecoming: hankering after 
 the flesh-pots," remarked Miss Hawksbury, 
 laughing. "Don't deceive yourself, my 
 dear ; it is gluttony, not gallantry. You 
 know it is, Jim ! " 
 
 "No; hunger, exhaustion, and general 
 usedupedness," interposed Mr. Cherriton. 
 " "We require sustenance badly." 
 
 "And what sport have you had?" in- 
 quired Letty. 
 
 "Well, you'd better ask Jim," replied 
 Mr. Cherriton, with gravity ; " I don't
 
 96 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 understand this, you see. I thought the 
 point was to take fish out of the water, and 
 we've spent the whole morning putting them 
 in. Must have a good afternoon though, 
 Miss Hawksbury, if we only pull up what 
 we've 2 )U t down. There's over a dozen 
 trimmers, all with something on. That we 
 can swear to, as we put it on." 
 
 " This affectation of ignorance does not 
 impose upon us," returned Sara. " But 
 how did you two cripples get on in the 
 boat ? " 
 
 " Beautifully, after we got regulated," 
 replied Jim. 
 
 " How regulated ? What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Why, you see at first my right hand 
 was so much too strong for the Chirper's 
 left that we only turned round and round, 
 but after we had settled he was to pull two 
 strokes to my one we got on pretty well. 
 Neither very quickly nor straightly may be, 
 but that didn't matter/'
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 97 
 
 " And where is Uncle Robert ? What 
 has he done ? " 
 
 " Nothing much as yet — three small fish. 
 We left him at the Rock pool, where, he 
 told us in confidence, dwelt a monster. A 
 monster, I fancy, still uncatched, and de- 
 termined to dwell on there rent free," 
 remarked Mr. Cherriton, cynically. 
 
 11 Uncle Robert will account for him in 
 due time, never fear," retorted Miss Hawks- 
 bury. " He has rather more perseverance 
 than some fishermen I wot of." 
 
 " Oh, come, now," returned the Chirper ; 
 " everyone knows patience and not perse- 
 verance is the real thino; in this sort of 
 sport. Bait a hook and watch a float. 
 We're watching, oh so anxiously. Trouble 
 you for the sherry, Jim." 
 
 " Uncle Robert is spinning," exclaimed 
 Letty, laughing. " You understand that, 
 Mr. Cherriton ? " 
 
 " Not without a wheel and a lady to 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 superintend it," replied the Chirper, men- 
 daciously. 
 
 " You little humbug," cried Jim. " Don't 
 be imposed upon, Letty, by this affectation." 
 
 "Jim, my dear," said Miss Hawksbury, 
 with great gravity, " I am afraid your 
 friend is really ignorant of the science of 
 the angle. Does he know more about 
 hunting, or is his wrist also an affectation 1 " 
 
 This attack was more than Mr. Cherriton 
 could bear, and he was about to reply at 
 length when the arrival of the rector cut 
 short the badinage. 
 
 " Can't persuade him to look at my bait 
 this morning, Sara, and there's a twenty- 
 pounder in the Kock pool if ever I saw 
 one. I have risen him four times and 
 struck the first, but he broke away almost 
 immediately. I mean to have him though. 
 Give me something to eat, quick, it's time 
 we were round the trimmers." 
 
 A keen sportsman and man of decision, 
 Uncle Kobert. Xo dalliance with the flesh-
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 99 
 
 pots permitted after his arrival. A sharp 
 hasty meal, a chasse of the famed cherry 
 brandy, and then all hands on board to 
 pick up the trimmers ; such were Uncle 
 Robert's peremptory orders. 
 
 Mr. Cherriton walked down to the boat 
 in somewhat listless manner — it is not that 
 there is any want of enthusiasm about the 
 Chirper — no laggard he in any sport or 
 game he understands, but fishing is to 
 him a mystery. He is sceptical of accounts 
 of struggles with mighty salmon till past 
 midnight on the Scotch rivers ; but pike- 
 fishing — well, he never, to use his own ex- 
 pression, " met anybody who'd got down 
 to that." He supposed it a good excuse 
 for a lunch out of doors, only what a pity 
 not to make more of so excellent a lunch, 
 though, perhaps, making less of it more 
 correctly expressed Mr. Cherriton's views. 
 
 " Now, Jim," cried Miss Hawksbury, 
 when they were fairly afloat, " you steer, 
 and Letty and I will row. It will warm 
 
 H 2
 
 100 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 us, and we can pull enough for this sort 
 of work. Mr. Oherriton, if you will go 
 forward you can help Uncle Robert with 
 the trimmers, and learn a little about pike- 
 fishing generally." 
 
 " You must push along, girls," cried the 
 rector, cheerily. " The light won't hold 
 above another hour or so." 
 
 Those small discs of painted cork, 
 which represent the trimmer, are not easy 
 to find on an expanse of open water. 
 Drifting, as of course they do, with the 
 wind, or it may be with the liveliness of 
 the bait attached to the line (for quite as 
 often as not it is a living fish and not a 
 dead that is offered as a bonne boucJie to 
 the bigger denizens of the pond, lake, or 
 stream), they naturally stray widely from 
 where they were cast in ; a sharp look- 
 out is consequently necessary when the 
 picking up of them takes place. They pro- 
 gress so far with no great success — a couple 
 of fair perch, a small jack, and three eels,
 
 THE BIO PIKE. 101 
 
 which occasion much trouble by their 
 sinuous and slimy writhings, are the sum 
 total of the take. Only two more to pick 
 up, and these, as yet, not to be discovered. 
 
 Uncle Robert looks puzzled. 
 
 "Didn't you say you put one down south 
 of the island, Jim ? " 
 
 " Just so ; can't you see it ? " 
 
 " No. Row slow, girls, and give us time 
 to use our eyes in front," returns the rector. 
 
 "Think I'll have a weed," mutters Mr. 
 Cherriton, more convinced than ever of what 
 a fallacy pike-fishing in every shape is, as a 
 sport. 
 
 " Let us try up towards the Rock pool, 
 Uncle Robert," cried Jim. " It was a very 
 lively bait, and quite likely to invade the 
 sanctuary of your twenty-pounder." 
 
 " Nonsense, it's right up wind ; " but a 
 few more seconds and the rector exclaims 
 gleefully : " You're right, Jim, there it is, 
 and with a fish of some kind on it, too. 
 Easy, Sara;" and the Rev. Robert leans
 
 102 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 forward to seize the trimmer. Hardly had 
 he raised the cork from the water, than it is 
 twitched from between his fingers, and goes 
 skimming up the lake at a great pace. 
 
 " He's off again ! " shouts the rector. " Now, 
 girls, let's see you row. There's a big one on 
 this time, by the way he carries the trimmer 
 away with him. Put her head for the 
 island, Jim ; he's travelling that way, and 
 nearly as fast as we are." 
 
 Letty and Sara bent to their oars till 
 their faces flushed, when once more came 
 the welcome cry of " Easy !" from the rector. 
 Still, no sooner had he grasped the cork disc 
 of the trimmer, and by so doing placed a 
 slight strain upon the fish, than it was 
 wrenched from his hand with a jerk that 
 tumbled him on to the gunwale of the boat, 
 and toppled his low-crowned hat into the 
 water. The girls laughed immoderately, in 
 which laughter the rector good-humouredly 
 joined. Mr. Cherriton, becoming imbued
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 10 
 
 with the fierce ardour of the chase, votes 
 pike-fishing somewhat exciting. 
 
 Uncle Robert's hat having been picked 
 up, away they went again in pursuit of the 
 little red disc, which, having soon slackened 
 its speed, was once more well-nigh motion- 
 less on the water. Stealthily they creep up 
 to it this time, everyone all a^os; for the 
 next essay. Uncle Eobert, without his hat, 
 leans anxiously forward in the bow, with 
 Mr. Cherriton by his side. Once more he 
 grasps the cork, and the Chirper, seizing the 
 line just below with his sound hand, the two 
 both got a firm grip of the trimmer. 
 
 "Pull, gilds," cries Uncle Eobert, "or 
 else he will break away. Steer straight up 
 the lake, Jim. We shan't land this fellow 
 for half-an-hour. It's mv big fish, I'll bet a 
 hundred n 
 
 Uncle Eobert kept as severe a strain upon 
 the fish as he dared ; but, though they were 
 following him, so furious were his plunges,
 
 104 SUNSHINE AN J) SNOW. 
 
 that after a few minutes the rector called to 
 Mr. Clierriton to let go his hold. "He's 
 pretty firmly hooked, but I am afraid of his 
 breaking us/ 5 he exclaimed, as the trimmer 
 once more went dancing across the water. 
 Again and again was the trimmer lifted, and 
 after a brief tussle once more abandoned 
 under the sage command of Uncle Robert ; 
 but the last time the resistance waxed 
 fainter, and it was evident they were tiring 
 the fish out. Still the light was waning 
 rapidly, and unless they kept very close to 
 the trimmer there was now great danger of 
 losing sight of it. The girls are tired out, 
 and Jim and Clierriton have taken their 
 places at the oars. Miss Auriole is steering, 
 and Sara sits beside her uncle in the bow. 
 Once more the rector catches hold of the 
 line, and for the first time ventures to begin 
 to haul in a little. It conies in slowly but 
 surely, and after a few minutes a huge pike 
 is just seen at the surface of the water ; then, 
 with an angry plunge, he once more wrenches
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 105 
 
 the line from the rector's hand, and dashes 
 off across the lake. 
 
 " Pull hard the starboard oar !" screams 
 Uncle Kobert, frantically. "Put her head 
 once more for the island, Letty ; the villain 
 is nearly done.'*' 
 
 The next time the rector seizes the line it 
 is evident the fight is nearly over. It hauls 
 in with sullen resistance, it is true, but 
 there is no longer the fierce plunges of 
 previous times. At last the big fish appears 
 upon the surface, still struggling, but in 
 inert, languid fashion compared to his 
 former fiery wrestling with his enemies. 
 
 "Stand back, Sara, he's beyond your 
 strength. Quick, Jim you, with the landing- 
 net" 
 
 Jim Hawksbury dropped his oar into the 
 water, sprang forward and seized the net. 
 Slowly the rector hauls in the dyiDg 
 monarch of the lake, oivino; vet convulsive 
 but impotent jerks against the cruel hook
 
 106 SUNSHINE AXD SNOW. 
 
 imbedded in his entrails. He is too bio- for 
 
 o 
 
 a landing-net, and they have no gaff. 
 
 " Steady, Jim," cries the rector ; " throw 
 
 the net away, and when I bring him close 
 up to the boat, slip your fingers into his 
 gills. Lie down, man, across the gunwale. 
 That's it. And as soon as you have got 
 your grip call out to me. We'll have him 
 between us." 
 
 Frantic with excitement, Mr. Cherriton 
 also dropped his oar. There was something 
 in pike-fishing after all. Slowly, and fight- 
 ing for his ebbing life inch by inch, the big- 
 pike is drawn under the prow. A fierce 
 snap of his jaws greets Jim's bare out- 
 stretched arm ; but Jim is no stranger to 
 the sport, and not likely to give his victim 
 a chance to lacerate his hand. Another 
 minute, and his fingers are within its gills. 
 
 "Now, Uncle Robert, haul in all you can, 
 or I'm in the lake." 
 
 A great splashing, and then Jim, the 
 pike, and the rector are in a somewhat
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 107 
 
 confused heap in the boat's bows. One or 
 two sharp taps on the head with a stretcher, 
 and the fish that has fought them so long 
 and so gallantly lies dead, and the}' crowd 
 round to look at their spoil. 
 
 "Five-and-twenty pound if he's an ounce," 
 cries the rector ; " and what a game fish. 
 Ah, if I had but had him on the rod ! " 
 
 " You'd have probably lost him," said 
 Letty, roguishly. " He very nearly pulled 
 you into the water once or twice as it was, 
 you know." 
 
 "He'd have taken a deal of killing,' 
 observed Jim ; " but it is time to be off 
 home, it's getting quite dusk." 
 
 And now arose a somewhat farcical 
 episode in that day's fishing. In the ex- 
 citement of the taking of the great pike 
 both Jim and Cherriton had dropped their 
 oars, and those oars had silently and un- 
 observed slipped into the water. They were 
 doubtless not far off; but it was now so 
 dark that it was impossible to see them, and
 
 108 SUNSHINE AXD SNOW. 
 
 it did not seem quite so clear how they were 
 to get their boat to the shore under these 
 circumstances. No great distance, certainly 
 — not more than three hundred yards or so ; 
 but how to obtain the necessary propelling 
 power, that was the question. The whole 
 party broke into a peal of laughter, when 
 they comprehended that they were virtually 
 water-Wo-ed. 
 
 ' : In all cases of shipwreck/' said the 
 rector, with a twinkle of his eye, " the 
 proper thing is to serve out a ration of rum 
 to begin with. Sara, my dear, where 's the 
 cherry brandy ? Let us make a libation in 
 honour of our victory." 
 
 " Well," said Jim Hawksbury, after much 
 jesting on their pitiable condition, " this is 
 all very well ; but neither jokes nor cherry 
 brandy will take us ashore, and to wait till 
 we drift there is somewhat too indefinite. 
 What are we to do V 9 
 
 "Do!" replied Uncle Kobert, "why,
 
 THE BIG PIKE. 109 
 
 taking what advantage we can of the drift, 
 we must sacrifice our hats, gentlemen, and 
 paddle with them." 
 
 The absurdity of the proposition redoubled 
 the laughter of the, so to speak, water- 
 logged party ; but the rector, with a quiet 
 " Now, Jim, you take the other side," pro- 
 ceeded calmly to put his proposal into 
 practice ; and, after some ten minutes, they 
 succeeded in reaching the bank, though in a 
 not particularly convenient place for land- 
 ing. Then, tired and somewhat wet, with 
 Jim and the rector bearing the big pike 
 between them on a cross-stick, the merry 
 party made their way back to the 
 house. 
 
 " Don't you think pike-fishing rather 
 fun V said Miss Auriole to Mr. Cherriton, 
 as she took her candle from his hand in the 
 hall. 
 
 " Capital. I never had a pleasanter day, 
 or laughed more," replied the Chirper. " I
 
 110 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 only hope you didn't get very wet getting 
 ashore." 
 
 "Nothing to signify/' returned Letty. 
 "And to see you all paddling with your 
 hats was worth a regular ducking."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE DOWAGER. 
 
 A good four months have elapsed since that 
 day famous in Uncle Robert's diary as the 
 date of the capture of the twenty-five pound 
 pike in Ringstone Lake, or, to speak more 
 correctly, and the rector was wont to be 
 very accurate in that most sporting day- 
 book, that fish of twenty-three-and-a-half 
 pounds. Miss Auriole is in town, staying 
 at what she really looked upon as her home, 
 much time as she was wont to pass at Ring- 
 stone Abbey. Miss Auriole lives with old 
 Lady Hawksbury, Sir Randolph's mother, a 
 most astute, vivacious old lady, who can be 
 made to believe in her seventy-four years
 
 112 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 by no manner of means. Not that the 
 dowager affects juvenility in dress, or pre- 
 sents herself before the world a being 
 composed by her lady's-maid — a wondrous 
 and ghastly effect of rouge, false tresses, and 
 general decrepitude. Very much the re- 
 verse of all this is Lady Hawksbury senior. 
 A nice gray-haired old woman, with a 
 delicate bloom of Nature's own giving even 
 yet on her faded cheek, with an eye keen as 
 a gled's, and a tongue, to say the least of 
 it, both quick and sharp, a step so light and 
 firm as to utterly belie her years. In fact, 
 few people would have given the dowager 
 credit for bein^ within fifteen vears of her 
 actual age. 
 
 She is a pretty picture as she sits there 
 this spring morning clad in the dainty gray 
 silks she especially affects, with a marvel- 
 lously neatly-turned foot peeping out from 
 beneath her petticoats. She has kept the 
 neat petite figure even yet that made her 
 famous in her day, and the old lady is
 
 THE DOWAGER. 113 
 
 proud still of her personal advantages, but 
 she is far too shrewd not to know that if she 
 would look her best it must be as winter 
 nowadays, and that the woman who struggles 
 
 artificially to preserve the autumn of her 
 life reminds one painfully of stucco. A 
 grand sight is the ruin gray, but the ruin 
 that would hide the ravages of time by 
 stucco, ah ! that is a sorrowful sight to see. 
 
 LettyAuriole saw the country-side season, 
 as it may be denominated, pretty well out 
 before she left the Abbey. The hounds 
 were meeting at early hours, and the violets 
 and primroses in full blow, ere she bade 
 Eingstone farewell. 
 
 It was the usual arrano-ement between her 
 and old Lady Hawksbury. Miss Auriole 
 went to the Abbey for the autumn and 
 winter months, while the dowager paid a 
 round of visits. She was amazingly popular, 
 that old lady, with her shrewd, caustic 
 tongue, warm heart, and exuberant vitality. 
 Old, pooh ! nobody ever recollected Lady 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 Hawksbury's age ; how should they when 
 she so utterly ignored it herself. Even 
 when she spoke of " elderly people like me, 
 my dear," it seemed only an excellent joke. 
 True, her hair was gray, but it was still 
 thick and soft, and with the keen dark eyes 
 looking out from beneath the yet dark, 
 straight brows, it seemed only a freak such 
 as Nature will sometimes play with our 
 locks. I fancy that many of those who 
 laughed with Lady Hawksbury in those 
 pleasant country houses never in the faintest 
 manner realised that in reality she was an 
 old woman. 
 
 But Eingstone Abbey the dowager never 
 could be induced to set foot in. Though 
 very fond of her grandchildren, she had no 
 great affection for Sir Eandolph. She had 
 said many years before that it was a 
 thousand pities Eobert had not been the 
 elder, and, as is sometimes the case, she had 
 bestowed the first place in her heart on her 
 youngest boy. Once again had Jacob stolen
 
 THE DOWAGER. 115 
 
 Esau's birthright. And what wonder ! She, 
 with her quick intelligence, recognised the 
 vain, petulant disposition of her eldest born 
 quite as speedily as she did the bluff, 
 sterling honesty of his brother. But the 
 one thing that had made the dowager so 
 carefully avoid the Abbey was her daughter- 
 in-law. For the present Lady Hawksbury 
 the dowager entertained the most con- 
 temptuous dislike. She had done her best 
 to break off the match at the time, and the 
 younger Lady Hawksbury was quite aware 
 of the fact. It would have been very 
 singular had there been much love between 
 the two ladies under such circumstances. 
 The dowager could more than hold her 
 own, but she was not going; to concede her 
 daughter-in-law the advantage of being her 
 hostess. 
 
 Letty had arrived in Park Lane only 
 some two or three days before, and the 
 dowager had not yet had fairly out that 
 family talk which always took place when 
 
 i 2
 
 116 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 she and Letty foregathered again after their 
 separation. 
 
 "And so you found my step-daughter 
 civil, eh ? Caroline has some difficulty 
 about that even when her intentions are of 
 the best." 
 
 "I'm sure Lady Caroline is always kind- 
 ness itself to me," interposed Letty. 
 
 " I daresay, child ; but Caroline, when 
 she is pressing you to stay, always appears 
 so very much as if she means you to go. I 
 sometimes try to hope that she has her 
 intervals of sincerity, but I regret to say I 
 don't think I ever witnessed one." 
 
 " You don't like her, and see very little of 
 her," retorted Miss Auriole. 
 
 "Quite true as to the first, and a thing 
 to be devoutly thankful for as regards the 
 second. Just as well, too, Letty, or I 
 should probably be much more sincere than 
 she'd consider good taste ; not but what I 
 think she knows my opinion of her pretty 
 well. We often arrive at that without any
 
 THE DOWAGEE. 117 
 
 explanation. Haven't you sometimes known 
 a person dislikes you, though you have never 
 actually spoken to each other ? " 
 
 "I don't recollect such a case," replied 
 Letty, meditatively. 
 
 "Ah, you will before you come to 
 spectacles, unless you are a woman of no 
 observation. I have known many, and I 
 only hope they were equally aware I didn't 
 like them," said the old lady, sharply. 
 
 " Grandmamma, don't be vicious," said 
 Letty, laughing. 
 
 Although not her relations, she was ac- 
 customed to call all the elders of the 
 Hawksbury family by such names, as if she 
 had been veritably sister to Sara and Jim. 
 She had been so completely brought up 
 amongst them that they represented, in 
 fact, all the kinship she had ever known, 
 with the exception of her maternal grand- 
 father, who had left her an heiress. Of her 
 mother, of course, she recollected but little. 
 
 " So Jim's come to Aldershot," observed
 
 118 SUNSHINE AXD SXOW. 
 
 the dowager. " I am glad of that. I shall 
 see something of him this year, and I like 
 Jim." 
 
 " Yes ; the regiment arrived this last 
 month. Jim wrote to Sara to apprise her 
 of the fact, and to point out that, if we 
 cared to see a field-day when the summer- 
 time comes, he would feed and take care of 
 us." 
 
 " Excellent ; we'll go. I always like the 
 glitter and display of a review. My hus- 
 band was a dragoon, you know, for five or 
 six years after our marriage, and I moved 
 about with the corps all that time. I have 
 plenty of military friends even yet ; there is 
 Sir Eichard Bo wood, who called here only 
 two days ago. I expect him to do some- 
 thing for Jim." 
 
 " How so ? " incjuired Letty. 
 
 " He has great interest, and consecjuently 
 is certain to get a command before long, and 
 then I may, perhaps, persuade him to take 
 Jim on his staff."
 
 THE DOWAGER. 119 
 
 Letty smiled. Was Mr. Cherriton right, 
 and feminine influence a mighty assistance 
 to a military man ? It would really seem 
 so. 
 
 "And Sir Richard Bowood ! I suppose 
 he is a very distinguished officer ? " inquired 
 Miss Auriole. 
 
 " Of course, my clear," replied the old 
 lady, with a wicked twinkle in her sharp 
 black eyes. " All generals are distinguished 
 officers; the newspapers always call them so. 
 I forget where it was that Sir Eichard 
 acquired his laurels. I rather think that, 
 like another famous hero, ' he's never fought 
 because he found no enemy to fight withal ;' 
 but that does not matter, he is distinguished 
 by anticipation. Only wait till he gets an 
 opportunity ; it is expected that when he 
 does he will astonish military circles and the 
 public. In the meanwhile he may perhaps 
 prove useful to Jim." 
 
 " To think of your scheming in this way, 
 grandmamma," said Miss Auriole, laughing.
 
 120 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 " There's not very much scheming about 
 it, and one is bound to lend a hand to one's 
 own blood where one can. When does 
 Eandolph come up ? " 
 
 "Next week, and I hope it may do him 
 good. He has almost given up his hunting 
 this season ; sits moping in the house, and 
 complains that he grows old." 
 
 " God bless the boy !" cried the vivacious 
 old lady, " old— he old at fifty ! Why, I 
 declare I hadn't altogether given up dancing 
 at that age." 
 
 "No, indeed, grandmamma ; no need to 
 tell me that," cried Letty, laughing merrily. 
 " Why, didn't you write me word from the 
 Hugessons' this winter, that you had found 
 yourself involved in the Lancers ? " 
 
 " Hush, child," replied the dowager, with 
 a comical glance. " You must not whisper 
 such a story in town. I can't have my 
 country frolics brought up in array against 
 me in May fair. I acted in charades, and 
 committed all sorts of indiscretions there ;
 
 THE DOWAGER. 121 
 
 but Randolph to talk of growing old yet — 
 why, it's preposterous." 
 
 " He has aged, though, the last twelve- 
 month, a good deal in appearance. You will 
 notice it, I am sure — it's a good while since 
 you have seen him, remember." 
 
 "Yes. Ah, well ! I suppose a woman like 
 Caroline takes a good many years off a man's 
 life," said the dowager, meditatively. 
 
 " For shame, grandmamma. I won't have 
 aunt abused before me." 
 
 " Quite right, Letty ; but I have got to 
 the time of life when our likes and dislikes 
 are pretty well pronounced. Moreover, I am 
 of that same temperament as Madame Noget, 
 who said that she had never enjoyed such 
 delicious quarrels as with her late husband, 
 and that to a woman of her constitution, a 
 real downright quarrel was a positive luxury. 
 I cherish my dislikes from a similar convic- 
 tion. But, my dear, we have all our pet 
 prejudices." 
 
 That the dowager had, there certainly was
 
 122 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 little doubt. She was a woman of strong 
 feelings, and neither loved nor hated by 
 halves. A very outspoken old lady, too — 
 not of that unpleasant kind, be it under- 
 stood, who, under the flimsy pretext of plain 
 speaking, seize upon every opportunity of 
 beins; discourteous and disaoreeable; but one 
 who made no pretence of being interested in 
 people not to her taste, and candidly owned 
 that she had no wish to meet them ao-ain to 
 
 o 
 
 any mutual friends who might insist upon 
 knowing in what light she regarded them. 
 That she and her step-daughter should be 
 as water unto oil in their mingling was 
 palpable to everyone. 
 
 Lady Caroline, with her insincerity and 
 placid feelings, was the incarnation of all 
 the dowager held in greatest scorn. Her 
 love even for Sir Eandolph, which was the 
 strongest passion of her nature, was, as 
 her step-mother avowed, only tepid ; indeed, 
 the old lady had once gone so for in her 
 wrath as to declare that her step- daughter
 
 THE DOWAGER. 123 
 
 could not be even sincere in her hatred, 
 and actually made it a capital charge on 
 the occasion that she only disliked herself 
 in a lukewarm, half-make-believe sort of 
 fashion. But her son, the rector, who was 
 the recipient of this slightly shrill-spoken 
 confidence, burst into such a roar of 
 laughter, that the dowager, whose per- 
 ceptions of the ludicrous were keen, awoke 
 to the comicality of her accusation, and was 
 fain to join in the Rev. Eobert's mirth. 
 
 However, although her prejudices might 
 blind her here and there, Lady Hawksbury 
 senior was a monstrous shrewd, sharp- 
 sighted, warm-hearted old lady ; very fond 
 of her younger son, the Rev. Robert, her 
 grandchildren, and Letty Auriole. 
 
 Very staunch to her friends was the 
 Dowager Lady Hawksbury on such points, 
 manifesting moreover much tact and astute- 
 
 o 
 
 ness in advancing their interests, but with 
 one most excellent trait in her character ; 
 she by no means insisted on their arriving
 
 124 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 at honours or happiness by the particular 
 path she had staked out for them. She 
 was willing they should select their own 
 road in life, and then the kindly old lady was 
 ever willing to lend a hand when she could. 
 An exceptional case, certainly. Most of our 
 dear friends would fain set us on the road 
 to Elysium, but they stoutly insist upon pick- 
 ing out our route and taking our ticket for 
 us — no probability, they think, of our getting 
 there through our own cloudy imaginings. 
 
 " I suppose," said the dowager, after a 
 pause of some duration, " Jim has quite got 
 over that fall." 
 
 " I think so. His arm was still a little 
 weak when he left, but that was a mere 
 matter of time." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; he was down at Eingstone, I 
 remember. The Hawksburys, like valuable 
 china, crack a good deal, but seldom break 
 past patching." 
 
 "I think Jim has been scientifically 
 mended," replied Letty, laughing. < " He
 
 THE DOWAGER. 125 
 
 brought a brother-officer down with him — 
 one after your own heart, grandmamma. 
 Such an audacious boy." 
 
 "Ah/' laughed the old lady, " I do like 
 those audacious youths, they always amuse 
 me ; they are a peculiar production of 
 the age. That wonderful combination of 
 naivete, impudence, and fun is almost 
 peculiar to the present generation ; some- 
 what scarce nowadays, though very quaint ; 
 how loathsome is the imitation. The 
 Brummagem edition is the quintessence of 
 vulgarity. That naive impertinence of 
 tongue should be wedded to the most 
 courtly manner and most trained of voices, 
 and there we have the Louis Quatorze age 
 again, suffering under the drawback of our 
 most unromantic costume. Why, in this age 
 of luxury, do our men wear broadcloth 
 instead of velvet and embroidery ? " 
 
 " Perhaps because the populace might 
 jeer at them if they showed themselves 
 in such attire," replied Letty, laughing.
 
 126 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 "Pooh," rejoined the old lady, with a 
 most contemptuous toss of her head. 
 " When the gentry fear the canaille it is 
 time for them to resign their place in this 
 country — noblesse oblige, my dear, or there 
 exists no necessity for a noblesse" 
 
 A prouder or more thorough aristocrat 
 than old Lady Hawksbury never lived. 
 She held that had the nobility of France 
 stood by and struck for the Crown in '89, 
 the great revolution mioht have been 
 averted, and congratulated herself always 
 that the division of the nobility between 
 the two parties saved our own revolution 
 from being " low." That very great differ- 
 ence between the two countries when each 
 had to face that vast problem, the finishing 
 up and burying of the feudal system — to 
 wit, that the barons of England had from 
 the days of John been ever in wholesome 
 opposition to the Crown, while those in 
 France had been ever in league with it — 
 was a thing she could have by no manner
 
 THE DOWAGER. 127 
 
 of means been brought to listen to, yet it 
 saved us from similar chaos. The privileges 
 of the Crown were gradually pared down 
 on the one side, while on the other the 
 leaders of the democracy were still from 
 among the lords of the realm. 
 
 Nobody knew Lady Hawksbury's weak- 
 ness on this point better than Letty, as she 
 sometimes said : " Grandmamma would have 
 taken her place in the tumbrels without 
 quailing had she been a Frenchwoman of the 
 time of Marat, Eobespierre, and Danton."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CLARISSE AT HOME. 
 
 Aldershot, albeit a somewhat dull and 
 dusty residence, is not disliked on the 
 whole, especially by those who have some 
 tolerable private income with which to carry 
 on the war. I am not alluding to the 
 Kriegspiel, nor to the mimic campaigning 
 on such a pretty scale with which we are 
 fain to content ourselves every autumn. It 
 is not the fault of the War Office : vou can- 
 not have an army without paying for it, 
 nor, for the matter of that, a fleet, or other 
 toy of nations and burthen of that op- 
 pressed impostor : the virtuous working-man. 
 Whether these things are necessary for
 
 CLARISSE AT HOME. 129 
 
 our salvation who shall say, but it is well 
 to understand that it is doubtful whether 
 we possess them or have any chance of 
 possessing them till we once more find 
 ourselves immersed in a big war. Our 
 organisation, like our soldiers, existing 
 jDrincipally upon paper, and what our 
 liberal rulers so hilariously put down, 
 it is not oiven to their successors to 
 build up. But the war of which I 
 speak is that fell struggle to, may I say, 
 " 2ret aionff" the which is a cruel and 
 constantly-recurring problem to so many 
 genial, pleasant, easy-going people, whom 
 we meet in our way through this world. 
 Men, aye. and women too, with a laugh in 
 their eyes and a jest on their lips, but who 
 would be sore puzzled to say where they 
 were to lay their impecunious fingers on 
 that next hundred pounds necessary to 
 carry on the campaign. 
 
 Jim Hawksbury, rejoicing in a fair in- 
 dependent income, and not without ex- 
 
 YOL. I. K
 
 130 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 perience of Aldersliot, determines speedily 
 upon the plan of his summer — he knows 
 that dust-stricken agglomeration of sheds 
 well. He takes rooms in town, a season- 
 ticket, and resolves to enjoy what he can 
 compass of London life from March to 
 August. When Aldersliot compels his 
 presence, as it doubtless will a good deal, he 
 can take it out in tobacco, duty, and 
 rackets. Not quite that devotion to 
 his noble profession you would expect, 
 nor that which military reformers actually 
 conceive to exist in the subaltern of the 
 period this ; but Jim Hawksbury is 
 fashioned by no manner of means on 
 that ideal young modern Teuton officer 
 in spectacles, who spends his days in 
 playing Kriegspiel and map-drawing, and 
 his nights in the perusal of deep treatises on 
 military tactics. I don't want to depreciate 
 the Teutons, but in the last big fight they 
 had things made somewhat simple for them. 
 To conduct a revolution and a Great war at
 
 CLARISSE AT HOME. 131 
 
 the same time is not so easy, and France 
 this time had not the veterans of Louis 
 Quatorze to incorporate in her ranks, nor a 
 general to win a Valmy for her. Now a 
 man stationed at Aldershot can enjoy a 
 £ood deal of the London season if he has 
 money in his pocket, and Jim Hawksbury 
 found little difficulty in spending about 
 half of each week in town. He had 
 managed to secure a very comfortable 
 second-floor in Cleveland Kow ; that he 
 preferred this to the brace of cupboards he 
 possessed at Aldershot, and the well-lit, 
 well-served coffee-room of The Yacuna 
 to the low, dingy mess-hut, is not to be 
 wondered at. Babylon is very pleasant to 
 those who are moderately well-endowed, 
 cruel and hard though she be to those who 
 are not so. A certain number of visits 
 made of that sort yclept unavoidable, and 
 it occurred to Hawksbury that he would be 
 wanting in courtesy if he did not call on 
 the Lydons ; hideous rite this that society
 
 132 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 exacts from those that bow down and 
 worship at its tinselled altars, when to call 
 means not to see the people yon like, who 
 probably would never quarrel with you on 
 so small an omission, but the toiling over 
 miles of flagstones to leave cards. Jim was 
 not much better than his fellows on this 
 point, and I don't suppose it would have 
 occurred to him to carry on a watering- 
 place acquaintance, such as this had been, 
 unless he felt rather more interested than 
 usual in Clarisse Lydon. Not much given 
 to succumb to wiles of women either, is 
 Hawksbury, but he has certainly thought 
 more about this girl than he can remember 
 to have thought of lady fair since he was so 
 terribly smitten with his sister's governess, 
 when about fourteen years of age — a passion 
 to which her liberality with fruit tarts at 
 luncheon, and jam at evening tea, Sara 
 always stoutly maintained most materially 
 contributed. 
 
 However, a bright April morning finds
 
 CLARISSE AT HOME. 133 
 
 Jiin striding gaily along the Fulliam Road, 
 bent upon the discovery of Grove Terrace, 
 at No, 10 of which Clarisse had informed 
 him she and her father resided. Neat, 
 comfortable, one-storeyed houses these, each 
 owning a wonderfully good basement flat — 
 not mere servants' offices, such as you 
 usually find them, but containing a good 
 room or so besides, having moreover a little 
 patch of garden ground in front, and another 
 of considerably more pretensions in rear. 
 Grove Terrace, too, evidently took pride in 
 the cultivation of these little plots. Here 
 and there lived a Micawberish sort of family, 
 who had abandoned their domain to cats 
 and broken bottles, yet in the main the 
 little patches of ground were filled wdth 
 neatly-trimmed shrubs, while the more ex- 
 tensive ground behind was mapped out into 
 gaily blooming parterres, surrounded with 
 soft, well-shaven turf. 
 
 A respectable-looking maid-servant in- 
 forms him that Miss Lydon is at home in
 
 134 SUNSHIXE AND SXOW. 
 
 answer to his inquiry, and, ushering hini 
 into a bright, prettily - furnished little 
 drawing-room, begs him to wait while she 
 announces his presence to her mistress. 
 
 " This is good of you, Mr. Hawksbury ! " 
 exclaimed Clarisse, as, after a lapse of two 
 or three minutes, she entered the room. 
 " Papa will be as pleased to see you as 
 myself. I don't think we need make a 
 stranger of you, so, if you please, I will 
 conduct you to the workshop at once." 
 
 " I shall be only too glad," replied Jim, as 
 he followed the girl upstairs. 
 
 "It would be rather too arrogant to call 
 it a studio, although that is practically what 
 we make of it — painting-room might meet 
 the case ; but, upon the whole, we generally 
 call it the workshop. Here we are, come 
 in ; " and so saying, Clarisse threw open the 
 door of the room immediately above that 
 into which Hawksbury had been first shown. 
 
 At an easel placed near the window stood 
 Lydon, leisurely pursuing his calling. He
 
 CLAEISSE AT HOME. 135 
 
 turned as the door opened, and came forward, 
 brush in hand, to welcome his guest. 
 
 " Very glad to find you haven't forgotten 
 us, Hawksbury," he exclaimed, as he shook 
 the young man heartily by the hand ; "we 
 began almost to fear you had." 
 
 " Why, you see, I haven't been in town 
 before this month since I left Burnside," 
 replied Jim. " I was on leave amongst my 
 own people till just before the regiment 
 came to Aldershot. However, I am living 
 no great distance from you now, as when at 
 the camp we are usually a good deal up 
 in London. I hope Burnside set you up 
 completely.'' 
 
 " Hum, only so-so. The fact is, an 
 English spring, with its terrible east winds, 
 is to the full as trying as the Canadian 
 winter I fled from. I've not much to boast 
 about of late." 
 
 "Xo, papa's cough has been very trouble- 
 some, and then it is wearisome for him, 
 being so much confined to the house,"
 
 136 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 remarked Clarisse. " The doctors say he 
 mustn't go out when the wind's in the east ; 
 and, Mr. Hawksbury, it never seems to be 
 anywhere else in this country." 
 
 " It is rather troublesome and badly 
 behaved on that point, I must admit," said 
 Hawksbury, for the first time observing 
 how worn and ill Lydon looked ; " but we 
 must hope we are pretty well at the end of 
 it now. This has been a lovely week ; surely 
 you got out ? " 
 
 " Yes, and it does me a deal of good ; only 
 of course one can't expect to pick up all at 
 once." 
 
 " Oh, you're ever so much better, papa, 
 and if the fine weather will only last, and 
 enable you to get about and see people, you 
 will soon be yourself again. It is so dull for 
 him," continued the girl, appealing in some 
 measure to Hawksbury, " to be shut up here. 
 In Canada, you see, there were people to 
 drop in and talk to him, but we have no 
 friends in England."
 
 CLARISSE AT HOME. 137 
 
 " You, too, must liave found it some- 
 what wearisome," said Jim, as lie thought 
 how monotonous the girl's life must have 
 been during the four or five months that 
 had elapsed since he met her at Burnside. 
 
 " Ah," she said merrily, " it seems very 
 triste to me, this country of yours, with its 
 fogs, rain, and* want of sunshine. We have 
 our dogs'- weather, it is true, at times, in 
 Canada, but we have plenty of bright, clear 
 days in our winter. Above all, we never 
 seem to have lost the sun for good, as you 
 do here." 
 
 "And what did you do with yourself?" 
 inquired Jim. 
 
 " I had my piano, and my books, and my 
 painting — for I'm a pupil of papa's, you 
 must know; then, you see, nothing ever 
 hurts me, so I could always get out for a 
 run, and the shops alone were something 
 to look at in this big place ; and occa- 
 sionally I went, just now and then, you 
 know, to one or other of the matinee enter-
 
 138 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 tainments that are always going on — 
 concerts, theatrical performances, &c." 
 
 "What, by yourself?" 
 
 " Of course, monsieur. It is not nice, 
 I know, for a girl, but who had I to go 
 with ; and I am bound, to say nobody has 
 ever interfered with me. : ' 
 
 Jim could not help thinking that Clarisse 
 was rather too pretty a girl to run about 
 London by herself in this fashion, and 
 glanced at her father to see what he might 
 think on the subject ; but Lydon had 
 resumed his painting, and apparently took 
 no heed of their conversation. 
 
 She read what was passing through his 
 mind in his nice, and added : " I see that 
 you think I ought not to go about alone. 
 but recollect I am compelled to be inde- 
 pendent, and act a good deal for myself.'' 
 
 11 1 didn't mean that, of course," said 
 Jim, somewhat taken aback at finding his 
 thoughts so easily guessed at by his com- 
 panion. " I was only thinking it must be
 
 CLAEISSE AT HOME. 139 
 
 rather unpleasant for you, having to knock 
 about so much by yourself. Still, as you 
 say, who is there to go with you. But 
 I am forgetting part of my errand here ; 
 besides once more renewing our acquaint- 
 ance, Lydon, I hope to induce you to dine 
 with me on Friday at The Yacuna." 
 
 " Yes, do, papa," exclaimed Clarisse, 
 eagerly ; fS it will be such a nice change 
 for you, and as the weather is now you 
 could take no harm from the night air." 
 
 " Of course you couldn't," urged Jim. 
 " I'll guarantee to send you home her- 
 metically sealed in a four-wheeler should 
 the weather play tricks.' 3 
 
 "You re very good, but I never go out," 
 replied Lydon, with a faint smile. 
 
 " All the more reason you should begin,'" 
 cried Hawksbury ; " the fly-in-amber life 
 is fatal mentally and bodily. Just a slight 
 fillip will do you no end of good. No 
 party, mind ; just a third to break our 
 tete-a-tete if I can catch him."
 
 140 SUNSHINE AND SNOW*. 
 
 " Go, papa ; Mr. Hawksbury's right ; it 
 will be good for you," interposed Clarisse. 
 
 "Well, I will. You are to make no 
 objection to my running away somewhat 
 early. It is a good many years since I 
 last dined at The Vacuna," added Lydon, 
 in somewhat absent fashion. 
 
 Jim said nothing to this, As before re- 
 marked, he was quite aware that this 
 London life had been very familiar to 
 Lydon at some period of his career. It 
 seemed strange that it should have been so, 
 but Hawksbury was no whit astonished at 
 hearing that the Canadian artist was familiar 
 with the precincts of The Vacuna. Fast 
 and fashionable London had dined, gambled, 
 and had been ruined there for at least 
 thirty years now, so it might well be that 
 Lydon, who had apparently once been of 
 that world, was familiar with that pleasant 
 but somewhat maligned caravanserai. 
 
 " That's all right, then," cried Jim, rising, 
 "and now I shall wish you good-bye till
 
 CLARISSE AT HOME. 141 
 
 Friday at 7.30. Miss Lydon, you will give 
 me permission to come again, will you 
 not ? " 
 
 " Mr. Hawksbury, you will have our 
 gracious leave so to do," laughed the girl, 
 jumping up, and making him a mock 
 reverence. " You know," she continued, 
 " we shall be always glad to see you. Have 
 we not made you free of our very palla- 
 dium ? are you not elect of the workshop ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, thanks. No wonder I was 
 slow to believe in that privilege ; to admit 
 such an idler as myself augurs ill for your 
 industry," retorted Jim, laughing, "but 
 have no hope I shall not make you abide 
 by all the consequences of your rashness. 
 For the present, good-bye." 
 
 As he walked back to London proper, 
 though where that begins or ends is some- 
 what difficult to determine in these days, 
 Jim certainly did not think Miss Lydon one 
 whit less attractive than he had in those 
 Burnside days of last November. The
 
 142 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 father, too, interested him strangely with 
 his somewhat moody, absent manner, cour- 
 teous though, and with the air of a man 
 who had lived amongst the best society in 
 his day, when he chose to exert himself; 
 how came he by all this fund of anecdote 
 and bygone gossip ; much of it as yet still 
 oral tradition, and not gone to the composi- 
 tion of biography. 
 
 Then Jim became somewhat lost in specu- 
 lation as to whom he should ask to meet 
 Lydon. He thought of and rejected a good 
 many of his acquaintance as he strode up the 
 Fulham Eoad, finally igniting a huge cabana 
 to assist his cogitations. He felt intuitively 
 that, though by some accident he scarce 
 fathomed, he himself got on well with 
 Lydon, that he was not one of those men 
 who would amalgamate with everyone. He 
 had never seen it, but yet he knew instinc- 
 tively there was a bitter side to Lydon s 
 nature likely to display itself should he find 
 himself in uncongenial company. He rather
 
 CLARISSE AT HOME. 143 
 
 repented he had said anything about a 
 third ; perhaps, after all, it would be as 
 well to make it a tete-a-tete. It is thus 
 our good angel often whispers in our ears, 
 and, like Jim Hawksbury, we are often 
 deaf to the warning. Still, if we always 
 yielded to presentiments, there are nervous 
 people who would never do anything, and it 
 is difficult to distinguish between our good 
 angel and a disarrangement of the ganglionic 
 centre.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "a pool at ecarte." 
 
 The Vacuna was a club of no little 
 notoriety in the London world. Its members 
 were of all sorts of professions and pursuits, 
 with penchants for play, meals at abnormal 
 hours, and humour of a practical description. 
 It had no particular hours for closing or 
 opening, but seemed to meet the require- 
 ments of the members on that point. Per- 
 haps, like the club, they also kept no 
 particular hours. Its doings either scan- 
 dalised or amused the neighbouring monachal 
 institutions. For instance, when the story 
 went round that some of its more hilarious 
 constituents, after finishing a very late pool
 
 "a pool at ecarte.'' 145 
 
 one night in February, impelled by a laud- 
 able love of order, had tidied-up the billiard- 
 room by putting the cues into the fire, the 
 balls through the windows, and the marker 
 into the refrigerator, there was much grin- 
 ning and wagging of heads midst the 
 adjoining communities, mutterings of "comic 
 — disgraceful — abominable " — according to 
 the light the individual happened to see it 
 in. People's conception of jokes are so 
 varied, that the different view at times 
 taken of the jocular facet involves much 
 awkward complication. 
 
 They gave you an excellent dinner at 
 The Vacuna, and there was a most 
 luxurious smoking-room on the ground-floor, 
 in which to enjoy your cigar and coffee 
 afterwards. There were two or three 
 wicked little rooms off it, in which you 
 invariably, between nine and ten, found a 
 select band, who were willing to play cards 
 till daylight — whist, ecarte, baccarat, or a 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 dash of " unlimited " — those reckless spirits 
 were not very particular. 
 
 In the breadth of their views, the com- 
 mittee had provided for those members who 
 were better billiard-players than church- 
 goers, trusting, I suppose, to their finding 
 sermons in the balls and o*ood in every- 
 thing, by permitting them to pursue their 
 favourite diversion on the Sabbath ; all of 
 which, combined with sundry little play 
 scandals, caused The Vacuna to stink in 
 the nostrils of all right-minded people, but 
 to be an intensely popular and fashionable 
 club. Fashionable society has of late years 
 shown a strong hankering to patronise any- 
 thing with a strong soupgon of wrongdoing 
 about it. 
 
 Lounsfino* in the flower-decorated hall of 
 this Temple of Indolence were Hawksbury 
 and Mr. Clierriton on the Friday evening, 
 duly awaiting the arrival of Alfred Lydon; 
 for, after much consideration, Jim had 
 resolved to ask the Chirper to join them at
 
 CC . -n^/^T »™ Vr, * T.T,', » 
 
 A. POOL AT ECARTE. 147 
 
 dinner, a request to which that young 
 gentleman had been graciously pleased to 
 accede. It really was to some extent a 
 sacrifice on Mr. Cherriton's part. He was 
 at that time of life when we are apt to deem 
 a night in London misspent unless we go 
 to some place of amusement, and it was of 
 course very unlikely that the artist would 
 be that way of thinking. The Chirper, 
 indeed, had felt half inclined to cry off, but 
 Hawksbury had rather pressed the point ; 
 and when his special chum did that, Mr. 
 Cherriton had never had the heart to say 
 him nay. 
 
 " Rather a bore : he won't do auvthino- 
 or go anywhere, you know," remarked the 
 Chirper, plaintively ; " but I suppose, at his 
 time of life, we can't expect him to core 
 about anything but cemeteries. Never mind, 
 Jim, I'll see you through it, but I shall have 
 to be hard on both the claret and tobacco." 
 
 " With all my heart," retorted his host, 
 laughing ; " but here comes Lydon." 
 
 i 2
 
 148 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 Mr. Cherriton was extremely astonished. 
 We are all wont to build up most fanciful 
 sketches of those about whom we hear ; to 
 imagine a man tall or a woman fair, upon no 
 other grounds than our sheer imap-mings. 
 The Chirper's conception of the elderly 
 Canadian and somewhat vagrant artist was 
 very far from being that of the high-bred- 
 looking man who, in perfectly correct even- 
 ing costume, shook hands with Hawksbury, 
 and then quietly consigned his coat and hat 
 to a servant. How little men of different 
 professions at times know of each other. 
 Mr. Cherriton, for instance, had a hazy idea 
 that all artists wore beards, fanciful velvet 
 coats, slouched Rubens hats, and smoked 
 gigantic meerschaums. He was thoroughly 
 taken aback at meeting a painter who might 
 have passed for a colonel of dragoons, 
 barring his short, trim, grizzled beard, but 
 the Chirper was of that age when new 
 experiences come thick upon us. 
 
 Having introduced his two guests, Jim led
 
 "a pool at ecarte." 149 
 
 the way to the dining-room, and the party 
 were soon sitting in judgment on the chef 
 of The Vacuna. It was a very pleasant 
 meal that. Lydon was evidently amused by 
 Cherriton's gay, boyish talk, and the latter 
 rattled carelessly on about all that was doing 
 in town, mixing up the coming Derby, the 
 just-decided boat-race, the theatres, Hurling- 
 ham, and the gossip of the day in the most 
 incongruous fashion. Ao:ain was Jim struck 
 with how well at one time Lydon must have 
 known fashionable London. It w T as a good 
 many years ago, evidently, from some of his 
 remarks ; that the men of his time shot 
 their pigeons at Hornsey Wood instead 
 of Shepherd's Bush and Hurlingham, for 
 instance ; but beyond a steady progression 
 westward, fashionable London keeps pretty 
 much to the old round of amusements with 
 which it began the century. Some modifi- 
 cation has taken place, of course, in them. 
 Polo and Prince's for example, instead of 
 pugilism and the Five's Court; but the round
 
 150 SUXSHIXE AXD SNOW. 
 
 of the season continues a good deal the 
 same, only the crowd thickens. 
 
 You remember the judge's famous "Pas- 
 sons ait deluge" in Racine's comedy, when 
 the advocate, in the case of the stolen capon, 
 commenced his address with an imaginary 
 account of the creation of the world ; so, in 
 like manner, we must not linger over the 
 side dishes, but pass quickly to the smoking- 
 room. His coffee and cigar finished, Lydon 
 announces his intention of going home; and 
 as it happens to be a mild night, Hawksbury 
 proposes they shall walk with him a bit of 
 the way. 
 
 ''Quite a duty," says Jim, " to take ad- 
 vantage of a slight cessation of the east 
 wind, if you are not afraid of the night 
 air." 
 
 "Not at all," laughed Lydon, as he lit 
 another cigar. " I am well wrapped up, and 
 the dinner and the talk have done me a deal 
 of good ; as Clarisse says, I get moped seeing 
 no one in Grove Terrace."
 
 A POOL AT ECARTE," 151 
 
 " Of course you must. However, I 
 mean to intrude upon you pretty often in 
 future." 
 
 "By Jove, there's a splash of rain," ex- 
 claimed Cherriton ; "I believe it means to 
 come down in earnest directly." 
 
 " Yes. TVe had better push along. I 
 shall be able to get a cab at the corner," 
 replied Lydon. 
 
 They were in Pall Mall, and by the time 
 they reached the bottom of St. James's 
 Street it was raining heavily. Usually one 
 might fairly reckon upon finding a cab 
 there, but upon that occasion not one was 
 to be seen. 
 
 " Come across to my rooms," exclaimed 
 Jim, " they are close by, and I don't suppose 
 this will last long." 
 
 It certainly did seem the best thing they 
 could do under the circumstances. A man 
 in Lydon's delicate health could not afford 
 to risk fresh cold by getting wet. Hawks- 
 bury's lodgings, it may be remembered,
 
 152 SUNSHINE AND SXOW. 
 
 were in Cleveland Bow, close to them, and 
 there the trio sought shelter accordingly. 
 
 They were rather nice rooms that Hawks- 
 bury had got hold of, very superiorly 
 furnished to the usual run of lodging- 
 houses, which was easily explained by the 
 fact that the furniture was the property of 
 the tenant of the rooms — a regular London 
 man, who, going abroad for some months, 
 thought he might as well let his domicile 
 for the season. Jim proceeded to stir up 
 the fire, light the lamp, and settle his 
 guests in the cosiest chairs he possessed, 
 after the approved fashion in such cases, 
 but it was no use attempting to settle the 
 Chirper. That young gentleman was suf- 
 fering from repressed vivacity. Walking 
 would have afforded some relief to his rest- 
 lessness, but to sit down placidly and smoke 
 was beyond him. He felt irresistibly im- 
 pelled, to use his own phrase, to do some- 
 thing. He was good to play billiards or 
 whist, or go to any place of amusement,
 
 "a pool at ecartje." 153 
 
 but Mr. Cherriton conceived his evenino- 
 
 o 
 
 lamentably misspent if he did not partake 
 of some one or other of these diversions. 
 Mr. Cherrit oil's " Few Hours with the Best 
 Authors " had been very few since he com- 
 menced his military career. His super- 
 abundance of vitality prevented the display 
 of much taste for reading on his part. To 
 the riotous animal temperament, common 
 to most of us in the springtime of life, 
 quiet and steadiness are peculiarly unpalat- 
 able. 
 
 Cherriton fidgeted about the apartment, 
 cigar in mouth, making comments on the 
 upholstery. " Frith's ' Derby Day,' Jim, 
 eh ?" he observed, pausing opposite a print; 
 " wonderful like the hill yet, isn't it, barring 
 the bonnets ? Suppose they wore 'em like 
 that in those days. Ah, here we have 
 Gladiateur, last year's hero, Mr. Lydon. 
 You should have seen what an exhibi- 
 tion he made of his field at Epsom ; at 
 least, it looked so from where I was. How
 
 154 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 I threw my liat in the air when the number 
 went up. Aristophanes and iEschylus in 
 terra-cotta ! Why does the proprietor 
 keep those bugbears of his youth still before 
 him ? Perhaps he plays knock-em- downs 
 with them when he's out of sorts ; they did 
 it intellectually with him, no doubt, in days 
 lang syne. Still raining like the devil," con- 
 tinued the Chirper, peeping disconsolately 
 through the window- curtains. 
 
 " Come and sit down, you restless young 
 reprobate," cried Jim. 
 
 " Reprobate yourself, sir," retorted Mr. 
 Cherriton, loftily, " which, as Mrs. Brown 
 would say, is polite, for, you be dashed, 
 your very chambers savour of the turf and 
 the classical drama, a mixing of the ancient 
 and modern, which, in short, no fellow can 
 understand. Ha, a backgammon board ! 
 Fm immense at backgammon. I tell you 
 what it is, I'll play either you or Mr. Lydon 
 the best of three games for half-a-sovereign. 
 Now, what do you say ? "
 
 « 4 T^AAT Am ^rx*-orr,V. » 
 
 A POOL AT ECAETE. 155 
 
 " Nonsense," retorted Jim. 
 "Just till the rain stops," interposed 
 Mr. Clierriton, insinuatingly. 
 
 It was a wicked little creature, and 
 though not a gambler had an unrighteous 
 hankering " after a little bit of speculation " 
 at times. At least, that was what the 
 Chirper denominated his petty play, though, 
 sad to say, it was by no means so circum- 
 scribed always as his present suggestion 
 might lead one to suppose. 
 
 " Pray don't decline on my account, 
 Hawksbury. It will amuse me to look on, 
 yet it is years since I saw the game," said 
 Lydon. 
 
 " Come on, then," cried Jim, " and by the 
 time we've done I daresay it will be fine. 
 Bring the board over here." 
 
 Mr. Clierriton brought the board across, 
 and placing it on the table next Hawksbury, 
 proceeded to open it. 
 
 " Hallo," he exclaimed, " here's a sell. 
 There are neither men, dice, nor boxes ;
 
 156 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 nothing but a couple of packs of cards inside. 
 Where are the men, Jim ? " 
 
 "Haven't the faintest idea," returned 
 Hawksbury, lazily ; " look about, you've a 
 talent for discovery, and are full of energy." 
 
 " Pooh ! I'm not going hunting about 
 for things that just as likely don't exist. 
 The proprietor, you see, no doubt is a 
 regular man in his habits. Threw the 
 backgammon-men into the fire because he 
 considered that game too slow. Sent the 
 boxes and dice after them because they 
 suggested hazard, which he thought too 
 fast. Don't you see, he has settled down 
 into a regular whist and ecarte player. 
 Have three games of the latter, will you, 
 instead of the backgammon ? " concluded 
 Mr. Cherriton, shuffling the cards. 
 
 A keen observer would have been struck 
 had he been attentively watching Lydon's 
 face at this juncture. One would almost 
 have said a slight spasm crossed it, and that 
 he seemed to view the cards uneasily.
 
 "A pool at ecarte." 15' 
 
 " Perhaps you will join us in this," said 
 Jim. " Ecarte is surely a well-known game 
 in the Canadas. "We might have a pool." 
 
 " I never touch a card," replied Lydon, 
 so brusquely that his companions both 
 turned to look at him. His cheek flushed 
 slightly as he became aware of the attention 
 his manner had excited, and in somewhat 
 sharp, defiant tones, he added : " I presume 
 there is nothing so very extraordinary in a 
 man having no taste for cards." 
 
 " Certainly not, but Cherriton and I will 
 not play if it is going to bore you," replied 
 Hawksbury, courteously. 
 
 " No, no, pray go on ; I used to play 
 once. I have given it up, you understand," 
 muttered Lydon. 
 
 Jim said no more. He could not under- 
 stand how the proposal that lie should join 
 a mild pool of ecarte could affect a man, 
 and yet, if it had not been that the idea was 
 so utterly preposterous, he would have said 
 Lydon was strongly affected by it. He
 
 158 SUNSHINE AXD SNOW. 
 
 quietly mixed himself a brandy-and-soda, 
 and then cut with Cherriton for the deal. 
 
 For a man who had given up play, it was 
 curious the fascination the game seemed to 
 have for Lyclon. As it continued there was 
 a slight flush visible on his pale cheeks, and 
 what a beau joneur would have recognised as 
 the light of battle gathered in his eyes. 
 The combatants were game and game, and 
 as they cut for deal for the conqueror the 
 Chirper observed curtly : 
 
 " Go you an extra sov. on this, Jim." 
 
 " All right," replied Hawksbury. 
 
 "I shall be happy to bet you the same," 
 interposed Lyclon. 
 
 Mr. Cherriton looked up with some little 
 astonishment, but speedily recovering his 
 manners, answered : " Certainly, if you 
 like." 
 
 It so happened that the game proved a 
 very close one. The antagonists were four 
 all, and the final point somewhat sharply 
 disputed. Lyclon was looking over Hawks-
 
 "a pool at ecarte." 159 
 
 bury's hand, and, therefore, it was impossible 
 for Jim to see his face, but the Chirper was 
 of course exactly opposite him, and in the 
 two or three glances he had of it Cherriton 
 was astonished to see the absorbed ex- 
 pression it wore. It was evident his whole 
 soul was in the game. It was not the 
 look of a man greedy of gold, but the 
 wrapped gaze with which we see men con- 
 template anything that has strange fasci- 
 nation for them. 
 
 Hawksbury won, and with the remark, " I 
 wonder what the weather is doing," rose, 
 and walked towards the window. 
 
 Drawing the curtains on one side, he 
 looked out at the night for a minute or two, 
 then lettins; them fall, said : " It still rains 
 hard. You must stick to your refuge a 
 little longer, Mr. Lydon." 
 
 The artist was standing by the table, 
 shuffling the cards in an absent manner. 
 "Ah, yes," he said, "I daresay it will soon 
 be over. I don't think, Mr. Cherriton, you
 
 160 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 should have proposed on that last hand ; we 
 were very weak." 
 
 " So was I," replied the Chirper, " or 
 else, of course, I shouldn't have done so. 
 You sot rather the best of the take 
 in." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; I should have played your 
 first hand. In the meanwhile, Hawksbury, 
 as it still rains, we may as well have a pool, 
 eh ?" said Lydon, still toying with the cards, 
 and speaking in a slow, hesitating fashion, 
 very unlike his usual custom. It looked as 
 if he had been made to play against his 
 better judgment. 
 
 The young men could not help exchanging 
 a glance of surprise at this remarkable in- 
 version of ideas on the part of their com- 
 panion, but Jim hastened to reply without 
 comment. 
 
 " Certainly, we can't do better, if it won't 
 bore you. Suppose you and Cherriton 
 
 commence." 
 
 " All right," replied the Chirper. " What
 
 "A pool at ecartb. 161 
 
 shall we play ? A sovereign, every time we 
 come in?" 
 
 Lydon nodded assent, and immediately 
 threw the coin on the table, an example his 
 adversary followed, and the orame beo-an. 
 
 There is no need for us to follow the fluctua- 
 tions of the cards, but it was curious to 
 notice how completely absorbed the artist 
 became in the play. He took no heed of 
 time, of the increasing little pile of gold by 
 his elbow, he asked no further questions as 
 to the weather. He seemed to have been 
 fascinated by these bits of pasteboard in the 
 way a bird is fascinated by the serpent, when 
 the fierce agony of fear and desire to fly 
 from impending danger is succeeded by a 
 dreamy, helpless lethargy. Lydon was like 
 a man under a narcotic. He showed neither 
 exultation nor despair, as the luck turned 
 either for or against him, yet it was not the 
 trained equanimity of a practised player. 
 He showed such intense interest in the 
 game. An habitual gambler would have 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 looked, most likely, quite as keenl} r after liis 
 own interests, but would have done so in 
 that nonchalant fashion which is de rigueur 
 with all who play high. Careless as he seemed 
 about the stakes, there was none of that 
 feigned indifference about the artist. On 
 the contrary, his companions were struck 
 with its very antithesis, his intensity. It 
 puzzled them. The stakes they were playing 
 for were not hio-h enough to account for 
 being nervous or excited about the result, 
 nor did Lyclon seem either. It was simply 
 such a complete absorption in his pursuit, 
 such as Hawksbury could never call to mind 
 having seen before, even amongst the most 
 reckless gamblers. 
 
 That he was no tyro was very evident. 
 If Jim was no more than an average per- 
 former at ecarte, he knew enough to recog- 
 nise that Lydon was a brilliant player, and 
 felt that if science was to count for anything 
 at cards, it was not much to be wondered at 
 that he and the Chirper were having unmis-
 
 "a pool at ecarte," 163 
 
 takably the worst of it. Pool succeeded 
 pool, and yet it never seemed to occur to 
 Lydon to think of returning home. He, who 
 had made it such a point that he must be 
 allowed to go away early, paid no attention 
 to the sonorous announcement of midnight 
 by the palace clock just across the street. 
 "The clock strikes one ; alas, it strikes not 
 one of us," as De Fonblanque would have 
 put it. But shortly after that hour Mr. 
 Cherriton announced at the conclusion of a 
 pool that he would play no more ; that he 
 had promised to look in upon two or three 
 intimates at The Eag anent the twal, and 
 that if he were not prompt in his departure 
 the doors of that hostelry would be closed ; 
 the lax discipline of The Vacuna being 
 much reprobated by the more austere con- 
 ventual establishments in its vicinity. 
 
 "Be as well, perhaps, for you, Lydon, too. 
 It's getting late, and you might have some 
 bother about a cab later on/' said Jim. 
 
 " Good God ! " exclaimed the artist, 
 
 M 2
 
 164 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 passing his hand across his face, " twenty 
 past one ! I had no idea of the time. I 
 thought — no, bah, I have never once 
 thought about it : but in days long since I 
 was wedded to whist and ecarte. It's years 
 since I have touched a card. The old 
 passion seized me to-night, and I have 
 recked little how long we have been 
 playing." 
 
 " The rain's all over," exclaimed Cherriton, 
 who had been peering out of the window, 
 " and I think I will be off." 
 
 " I trust, Mr. Cherriton, I shall find a 
 speedy opportunity of offering you your 
 revenge," observed Lyclon. 
 
 "Pray don't mention it. We've not been 
 playing so seriously that you need feel it 
 incumbent," returned the Chirper, gaily — 
 
 " For some must win, and others must lose ; 
 Only but win it, and who would refuse 
 The red gold to bear home in the morning 1 " 
 
 concluded the cornet, with mock solemnity.
 
 165 
 
 "Your winnings, Mr. Lydon, by no means 
 necessitate two cabs. Now I'm off." 
 
 "Hold hard a moment; so we all are," 
 retorted Jim. " Couldn't have you singing 
 about the streets in this way, you know, 
 without being there to collect the coppers. 
 Is that poetry all out of your own head, 
 young 'un ? " 
 
 " Of course it is. It's Tom Brabazon's 
 parody of ' The Fishers.' I learned it, so 
 there can be no doubt about it being out of 
 my own head, can there ? " 
 
 Overcoats and wraps were rapidly 
 assumed, the lamp turned down, and the 
 party descended into the street. The night 
 was now fair, and Lydon had slight difficulty 
 in obtaining a cab. He bade the young men 
 a kindly good-night, said vaguely that he 
 should always be delighted to see them in 
 Grove Terrace, and then drove off in the 
 same abstracted state that he had fallen into 
 ver since the commencement of the ecarte. 
 
 " Odd, his turning round in that wav,"
 
 166 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 remarked Cherriton, as the pair turned up 
 King Street. "For a man who had given 
 up play, I never saw a fellow so keen." 
 
 " Curious, very/' said Jim. " He seemed 
 to me quite to shiver at the first sight of the 
 cards. Once started, and I never in my life 
 saw such an enthusiast. He's not a gambler ; 
 he's more, I should say. He was like no 
 one I ever saw before at play. He reminded 
 me of what one has read about enthusiasts 
 of science, and prosecuted his ecarte with 
 the same fiery ardour that men give to the 
 investigation of the most intricate ques- 
 tions ." 
 
 " He could play, though," remarked 
 Mr. Cherriton, dryly. 
 
 " Yes ; as far I can judge, I should say 
 he's of the very first calibre. I tell you 
 what he gives me the idea of — a man who 
 has played deep and much in his time, and 
 about whose play there is a history of some 
 sort."
 
 (< 
 
 A POOL AT ECARTE." 167 
 
 " Of what sort ? " inquired the Chirper. 
 
 " Confound it, how should I know," re- 
 plied Jim, as they ascended the steps of 
 The Rag.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MY LADY'S DIPLOMACY. 
 
 Left-handed people are by no means un- 
 common in this world, but left-minded 
 people, we cannot but admit, are still more 
 often met with. I do not mean that people 
 whose views are opposed to our own are 
 left-minded, Heaven forefend. But we are 
 all well acquainted with that servant who 
 persistently places the left boot in place of 
 the right, and vice versa, who cannot help 
 associating your sponge-bag with your 
 tobacco-pouch, and whose general left- 
 mindedness occasions you infinite dis- 
 comfort. Ignorance ! you say — partially. 
 Practice enables people born left-handed to
 
 1G9 
 
 acquire the use of the right, and, similarly, 
 you may improve left-mindeduess ; but you 
 can no more eradicate the moral than you 
 can the physical peculiarity. To the end of 
 their days, those with this kink in their dis- 
 position usually regard things from an excep- 
 tional point of view. For instance, reader, 
 you may regard a thing as black, and I as 
 white, but the left-minded man will declare it 
 to be green — a light in which, as yet, it has 
 occurred to nobody else to look upon it. 
 
 The left-minded one arrives at his conclu- 
 sions and pursues his ends after a fashion 
 all his own. Crooked are the premises 
 which lead to his deductions, indirect always 
 the way by which he seeks to attain his 
 desires. Clever people of this class waste 
 an infinity of time in getting at what they 
 want ; they insinuate, for instance, that 
 they like buns, wish somebody would offer 
 them buns, instead of boldly asking for buns 
 or their equivalent. 
 
 Lady Hawksbury the younger was, as
 
 170 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 may have been already gathered, pecu- 
 liarly left-minded, and not only peculiarly, 
 but flabbily to boot. She was inces- 
 santly scheming about the veriest trifles, 
 manoeuvring that people should be on or 
 off her visiting list ; for tickets for this, 
 for invitations for that. Trying at times 
 to circumvent her liege lord on the subject 
 of the supplies, for my lady possessed much 
 faculty for the spending of money. She 
 would instinctively attempt this periodi- 
 cally, although she was not only a little 
 afraid of her indolent husband and knew 
 that he. read her like a book, but had 
 always found him tolerably lenient when 
 her modiste's bill got more than she could 
 grapple with. It was her ladyship's way, 
 and if she had wanted to borrow a paper- 
 knife, she would have inveighed against the 
 discomfort of uncut periodicals for minutes, 
 with a view to inviting an offer of the loan 
 of that article, sooner than to have requested 
 it direct.
 
 171 
 
 That her son's marriage should be an idea 
 that presented itself to Lady Hawksbury 
 long before the attainment of his majority, 
 was only natural in a woman with such a 
 wonderful bias for social politics. She 
 began to speculate on a wife for him while 
 he was still at Harrow ; had really four or 
 five eligible young ladies on hand during 
 his university career, at anyone of whom 
 she thought the heir of Eingstone might 
 throw his handkerchief without detriment ; 
 but just as he entered the army, Letty 
 Auriole, through the demise of her grand- 
 father, had inherited the large fortune she 
 now possessed. Lady Hawksbury's mind 
 was made up at once. In homely parlance, 
 it is no use going out to seek what you have 
 on the premises, and my lady decided that 
 Letty was just the wife for her . boy. Of 
 late it had occurred to Lady Hawksbury 
 that it was high time to bring about this 
 marriage. 
 
 Jim was in his twenty-sixth year, an age
 
 172 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 at which it was desirable that he should 
 settle down, determined my lady, and then 
 there was a possibility that the heiress 
 might be wooed and won by somebody 
 else if Jim should delay coming forward 
 much longer. Letty lived a good deal with 
 the dowager, and she, mused my lady, 
 always manifests an utter disregard for the 
 interests of the family ; the dowager's 
 opposition to her own marriage of course 
 beiug a clear case in point. "Quite possible 
 that spiteful old woman would promote 
 Letty's wedding with somebody else if she 
 thought it would annoy me," continued 
 Lady Hawksbury to herself. " She is quite 
 capable of sacrificing us all to her petty 
 jealousy of my unfortunate self." The 
 dowager was neither a spiteful old woman, 
 nor the least jealous of her daughter-in-law. 
 She nourished, indeed, too contemptuous a 
 feeling regarding; her ever to have enter- 
 tained any sentiment of that sort, but the 
 two ladies disliked each other heartily
 
 "my lady's diplomacy." 173 
 
 and when that is the case we are usually 
 prepared to believe the worst of one 
 another. 
 
 Despite many experiences to the con- 
 trary, Lady Hawksbury never for one 
 instant doubted of her ability to bring such 
 a thino; as a marriage about if she took it 
 in hand. She considered herself a con- 
 summate tactician — these social manceuvrers 
 always do ; no quantity of failure ever the 
 least able to convince them to the con- 
 trary. She had merely to decide upon her 
 plan of action, and that once settled, of 
 course the rest would be easy. Any other 
 mother under the circumstances would have 
 probably talked the thing over with her 
 son and then left it, but this would have 
 been infinitely too simple a plan for Lady 
 Hawksbury. She had, as she usually did, 
 taken up a theory of her own concerning 
 Jim's relations with Miss Auriole, which 
 was perfectly unwarranted, and of which 
 Sara could have disabused her in two
 
 174 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 minutes — that is, if it had been possible 
 to have convinced Lady Hawksbury her 
 own sagacity could possibly be at fault in 
 a matter of this nature. She held that 
 Jim was careless about pressing his suit, 
 because he felt that he might gather the 
 fruit when he would, the truth being that 
 the idea of marrying Letty had never 
 crossed Jim's mind. Taking her own view, 
 then, of the position, my lady decided that 
 her son must be at once roused from this 
 fancied security. Once awaken some un- 
 certainty about the ultimate possession of 
 the prize, and Lady Hawksbury conceived 
 there would be little fear but what her son 
 would infuse plenty of earnestness into 
 his indolent courtship. Lady Hawksbury 
 would have smiled incredulously even at 
 Jim, had he ventured to deny the existence 
 of such a courtship. 
 
 Full of her machinations, which she had 
 now arranged to her entire satisfaction, her 
 ladyship only waited till her son should
 
 "my ladys diplomacy. 175 
 
 happen to drop in to unmask her bat- 
 teries. Although the hussar had to be 
 down at Aldershot the best part of his 
 time, still he usually called in at Eutland 
 Gate once or twice in the course of the 
 week, and the next time he did so he 
 was ushered into Lady Hawksbury's own 
 private sanctum. 
 
 " They tell me you want to see me, 
 mother," said Jim, as he leisurely curled 
 himself up in a pet lounging-chair that he 
 always much affected when summoned to 
 assist at her ladyship's cabinet councils. 
 " Is it so ? " 
 
 " Not very unnatural if I do, I should 
 imagine/' replied Lady Hawksbury, with 
 her artificial laugh. 
 
 " No ; but generally it is, or you think 
 it is, something serious you have to say 
 when you send for me in this way." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Mere imagination on your 
 part, that. I felt dull. Our world has 
 been somewhat deficient in gossip of late.
 
 176 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 I thought, perhaps, the clubs, and The 
 Vacuna in particular, might have been 
 more fruitful." 
 
 " No, indeed ; there is not a story to any- 
 one's detriment afloat, unless you call poor 
 Maintower's ill-luck so." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " "Well, it is rather hard lines on the 
 Viscount, you see. He lost a lot of money 
 over the Two Thousand, and this came 
 round to the ears of his intended's father. 
 The old gentleman has turned violent, and 
 swears he will never give his daughter to 
 a gambler. Now, she was a good match for 
 Maintowers, havino- monev and all that, 
 of course, but he was most genuinely 
 attached to her besides, loving her purely 
 for her own sake, as a man should. Eather 
 hard upon him, isn't it ; getting not only 
 a facer over ' the Guineas,' but losing a 
 wife to boot ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Lady Hawksbury ; "but I 
 suppose when men play, they can no more
 
 "my ladys diplomacy. 177 
 
 expect to avoid loss of reputation than 
 money." 
 
 " Pooh ! don't preach, mother. I'm not 
 standing up for gambling myself; it's not 
 one of my weaknesses, but as long as a man 
 pays when he loses, I don't think his 
 character suffers much in these days." 
 
 " But, you see, Lord Maintowers has," 
 replied her ladyship. " So you think a man 
 should love his fiancee for her own sake, do 
 you, Jim ? " 
 
 The hussar nodded. 
 
 " What a very uncomfortable and un- 
 fashionable doctrine. Yes, decidedly they 
 manage these things better in France," said 
 Lady Hawksbury, with an affected titter. 
 
 " It may not be fashionable," retorted Jim, 
 stoutly, " but I don't see it's uncomfortable. 
 I don't go in for the love and the cottage 
 business, and think people who have got 
 nothing are justified in marrying just 
 because they're exceeding spoony on one 
 another. What I mean is this — it is better 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 1/8 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 a man should care more about a woman for 
 herself than for what she brings him." 
 
 " Exactly," said Lady Hawksbury, using 
 her mechanical tone, which conveyed the 
 impression that she had not heard one word 
 that was said, but answered upon finding it 
 was her turn to speak. " What, now, do 
 you think of Letty's engagement ?" 
 
 " Letty's ! You astonish me. This is the 
 first I have heard of it." 
 
 ""Well, it's not exactly an engagement 
 yet, you know, but it looks very much as if 
 it would shortly become one." 
 
 " Who's the man V said Jim. 
 
 " Sir Kichard Bo wood, Major-General, 
 K.C.B., and all the rest of it. Do you 
 know him?" 
 
 " Very slightly ; he's not at all a bad 
 fellow. He has the reputation of being a 
 very smart officer, but has been singularly 
 unlucky about seeing service. Bather old 
 for Letty, though, isn't he ? Sir Richard 
 must be fifty, if he's a day."
 
 "my lady's diplomacy." 179 
 
 " A mere trifle. Girls don't think much 
 of a quarter of a century or so between 
 them and their husbands in these times. 
 Besides, Letty's getting on, you know ; and 
 if young men won't come forward, she must 
 simply select from those that do." 
 
 "Letty getting on! Nonsense, mother; 
 why, you know perfectly well she's only one- 
 and-twenty. I am sure, with her fortune, 
 she's no call to be in a hurry." 
 
 " Well, I daresay she finds her home none 
 of the pleasantest. I can quite fancy her 
 not liking to live with your grandmother. 
 I'm sure I shouldn't ; " and certainly Lady 
 Hawksbury spoke with intention in her 
 voice this time. 
 
 "Never mind abusing grandmamma, 
 mother. You don't like her, nor she you ; 
 but she's not a bad old ladv, thou oh you 
 can't pull with her. But as for Letty 
 making her home there if she didn't like it, 
 you are perfectly well aware that she has a 
 home here, or wherever you and Sara may 
 
 N 2
 
 180 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 be, whenever she chooses to claim it, and 
 knows it as well as you and I do." 
 
 " Of course, of course. I didn't quite 
 mean that," returned Lady Hawksbury, 
 quickly, already aware that her intense 
 dislike of her mother-in-law had betrayed 
 her into an indiscreet remark ; " but girls, 
 especially when they have money, are apt to 
 long to set up an establishment of their 
 own. Perhaps that is Letty's view." 
 
 " She's not actually engaged, then, as 
 
 yet?" 
 
 " No ; but it looks as if it would come to 
 that shortly." 
 
 " What makes you think so V 
 
 " Good heavens ! why, the man's always 
 in Park Lane. What does that mean ? 
 What does he go for ? It cannot be to see 
 your grandmother. People don't manifest 
 much anxiety for her society, as a rule." 
 
 Jim smiled. He knew perfectly well 
 that the dowager was an extremely popular 
 old lady, and that it was quite possible Sir
 
 "MY ladys diplomacy. 181 
 
 Richard Bowood might be an old friend. 
 He did not in the least suspect his mother's 
 manoeuvre, "but he did begin to think she 
 had discovered one more of those mares'- 
 nests which she was somewhat notorious 
 for introducing to the notice of her 
 acquaintance. 
 
 " I don't think your evidence quite con- 
 clusive/' he replied at length. " Men 
 acquire the habit of dropping into particular 
 houses without having any matrimonial in- 
 tentions. It has never been much in my 
 line, but some fellows never seem settled in 
 a place till the)' have established themselves 
 on that sort of footing with some family or 
 other." 
 
 "I can only say if I was seriously in- 
 terested in Letty Auriole, I shouldn't like 
 Sir Richard Bowood's constant attendance 
 in Park Lane." 
 
 This was a little piece of exaggeration on 
 Lady Hawksbury's part. The General was 
 undoubtedly an habitual visitor and an inti-
 
 182 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 mate friend of the dowager's, but lie was by 
 no means the ami de la maison that her 
 daughter-in-law was making him out to be. 
 
 " Well, if Letty's admirers think Sir 
 Richard getting dangerous, they had better 
 make running in earnest themselves.'"' 
 
 " Exactly ; that's just what I knew you'd 
 say. My dear Jim, you can't think how 
 happy you've made me ! I felt, sure you 
 would agree with me as soon as you were 
 told about the General's unscrupulous 
 designs;" and Lady Hawksbuiy clasped her 
 hands in what appeared to be a gush of 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 This was her ladyship's great mistake in 
 life. By nature a somewhat insincere, cold, 
 unemotional woman, she. had carefully culti- 
 vated an enthusiastic emotional manner. 
 The result may be easily imagined. It was 
 impossible to believe Lady Hawksbuiy ever 
 to be in earnest ; she was always over- 
 acting. If she really was glad to see you, 
 she strove to convey the idea that the sight
 
 183 
 
 of you was the one thing that could bring 
 her perfect happiness in this world, which 
 utter exaggeration of course simply left the 
 idea that her welcome was a mere sham. 
 She was thoroughly and sincerely delighted 
 to find her son, as she conceived, about to 
 act as she would have him do in this matter, 
 but she could not resist a burst of enthu- 
 siastic gush at the success of her scheme, 
 calculated to impress a looker-on that she 
 was only acting. 
 
 "I don't think, mother, you are quite 
 justified in talking about ' the General's 
 unscrupulous designs.' If you are right, 
 and Sir Richard is doing his best to win 
 Letty, I don't see why he shouldn't if he 
 can. If she doesn't mind his age we needn't, 
 and she has no manner of need to take him 
 if she don't like." 
 
 " Good gracious, Jim, don't turn round in 
 this ridiculous fashion!" exclaimed her lady- 
 ship. " You may make too certain, you 
 know."
 
 184 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 " What on earth do you mean ? " cried 
 the hussar, suddenly extricating himself 
 from the depths of the chair in which he 
 had been lounging. 
 
 "Did you not say just now that if Sir 
 Eichard was really coming forward, it would 
 be advisable for Letty's admirers to do the 
 like ? " 
 
 " Of course I did, and I say so still. 
 However much a man may think he has 
 the best of a race of this sort, he can't 
 complain of being beat if he lets the other 
 fellow walk over." 
 
 "And yet that is what you arc going to 
 do apparently." 
 
 " I ! Why, my dear mother, what have I 
 to do with it ? " 
 
 " Why," cried Lady Hawksbury, utterly 
 oblivious for the moment of her subtle plan 
 for accelerating her son's sluggish passioD, 
 " why, you can't expect to marry Letty 
 Auriole if you don't ask her." 
 
 The hussar gave vent to a low whistle.
 
 185 
 
 He saw it all now. My lady's schemes were 
 often the subject of mirth to her children, 
 she usually blurting out her deeply con- 
 ceived designs pretty much after the manner 
 she had just done. It was with a smile he 
 answered : 
 
 "So you have been endeavouring to plant 
 the thorns of jealousy in my breast, and 
 thought to spur me to madness by telling 
 me how well Sir Richard's attentions were 
 received. What a crafty mother it is ! " 
 " You know, Jim, it is for your own good." 
 " But I don't want to marry Letty." 
 " Xot marry Letty! You must," ex- 
 claimed Lady Hawksbury, aghast. 
 
 " Excuse me, I really cannot see any 
 must about it. I've never thought about 
 marriage at all as yet, and am sure there's 
 no necessity for giving it my serious atten- 
 tion at present." 
 
 "You will disappoint me and your father 
 dreadfully, Jim, if you do not marry Letty 
 Auriole,"
 
 186 SUNSHINE AXD SNOW. 
 
 " I know, my mother, that these are 
 speculations women indulge in more often 
 than men. Leave me alone for the present ; 
 I am in no hurry for a wife ; but, mother, 
 when the time does come, I must choose for 
 myself. Good-bye." 
 
 Lady Hawksbury sat very disconsolate 
 -at the collapse of her scheme for some time 
 after her son's departure. She solaced her- 
 self, however, with the reflection that she 
 had done her duty ; that she had found her 
 son a bride, and if there was no bridal the 
 fault rested not with her. Much comfort, 
 too, did she derive from # the reflection 
 that some seven-and-twenty years ago the 
 dowager had found Sir .Randolph equally 
 impracticable on the like occasion."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 clapjsse's misgivings. 
 
 As may be naturally supposed, Jim Hawks- 
 bury has made many a visit to the Fulliam 
 studio since the night the artist was storm- 
 bound in his chambers in Cleveland Eow. 
 There are two patent truths connected with 
 these visits, which sometimes make even 
 the reckless hussar ponder. In the first 
 place, he can no longer shut his eyes to 
 the fact that he is rapidly falling over head 
 and ears in love with Clarisse Lydon. In 
 the second place, he is painfully conscious 
 that he is steadily losing a lot of money to 
 her father at ecarte. Nobody knows better 
 than Jim what a man of the world would
 
 188 SUXSHIXE AXD SNOW. 
 
 pronounce upon his case. He himself would 
 say the same of any one of his friends under 
 similar circumstances, would give the same 
 advice exactly that he feels convinced they 
 would give him. 
 
 " Cut it at once, old fellow. Your artistic 
 friend, depend upon it, is artistic in more 
 ways than one. Jim, can't you see you 
 have fallen into the hands of a regular leg-. 
 who, taking advantage of your being some- 
 what smitten with his daughter, is simply 
 skinning you ? Pull yourself together, re- 
 flect that Mr. Lydon is in all probability a 
 professional gambler and his daughter a 
 decoy duck." 
 
 Such, Jim Hawksbury knew, would be 
 the verdict of any one of his acquaintances 
 who should happen to discover all the cir- 
 cumstances of his intimacy with the Lydons. 
 Yet Jim was prej^ared to stake his life on 
 Clarisse's integrity. He swore her sweet 
 face could never lie ; if he was being plun- 
 dered, it was without her knowledge or
 
 clauisse's misgivings. 189 
 
 connivance, he would pledge his existence. 
 He recollected her astonishment when, the 
 first time he appeared in Grove Terrace after 
 that memorable dinner at The Vacivna, her 
 father had suggested cards ; how the servant 
 had to be sent out to the stationer's to buy 
 a couple of packs ; and how Clarisse, looking 
 on at their game with some curiosity, had 
 told him she didn't know one card from 
 another, and that she had never seen her 
 father play before, was not aware indeed he 
 could. 
 
 " Exceeding artfulness that, a little over- 
 doing it, you know — girl her father's con- 
 federate, of course." 
 
 Yes, that would naturally be the judg- 
 ment a man of the world must oive in such 
 case. When a youno- officer of dragoons 
 
 JO o 
 
 picks up an elderly gentleman, of whom he 
 knows nothing, with a pretty daughter, at a 
 watering-place, fraternises with him, and the 
 result of their intimacy is continuous ecarte, 
 and continuous loss to the dragoon ; the
 
 190 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 conclusion our worldly friend would come 
 to must be obvious. And yet again Jim 
 Hawksbury could by no means arrive at 
 that conclusion. 
 
 He recalled to mind the singular change 
 of purpose that had come across Lydon 
 in Cleveland Eow — the singular agitation 
 which seemed to possess him before he 
 determined to play, and the extraordinary 
 absorption he had shown in the game after 
 he had once commenced. He reflected that 
 a similar mental struggle had seemed to 
 preface Lydon s sending for the cards in 
 Grove Terrace, and that he always played 
 in the same wrapped manner that he had 
 done upon that first occasion. Again, al- 
 though Hawksbury now owed him a consider- 
 able sum, he seemed perfectly indifferent 
 about payment. AYas the manner this sum 
 had mounted up characteristic of the card- 
 sharper, or the reverse ? Their stakes had 
 gradually been raised higher and higher, at 
 Lydon's suggestion, in order that Jim
 
 CLARISSES MISGIVINGS. 191 
 
 should have a chance to retrieve his ill 
 fortune ; but though he had occasionally 
 transient gleams of success, in the main 
 the battle went steadily against him. 
 
 One incident in all this puzzled him 
 much. Upon one occasion Lydon had said, 
 somewhat wildly : Cf Hawksbury, I must stop 
 this, these accursed cards are becoming my 
 masters. I feel as if I was oiven over to 
 them body and soul, as if they had posses- 
 sion of me in the way dram-drinking and 
 opium-smoking enfold their victims." 
 
 Jim, courteously assenting, replied: "With 
 all my heart. I'll just make up our account, 
 and give you a cheque for it in a day or 
 two." 
 
 Indeed, the young man was no gambler at 
 heart, and sometimes thought all this ecarte 
 a bore, and a thing he would be very glad 
 to have done with. I don't think at that 
 time he had counted up very clearly what it 
 was costing him, but he did think that to 
 walk or talk with Clarisse Lydon would be
 
 192 SUXSHIXE AXD SNOW. 
 
 infinitely more charming on these sunny 
 May afternoons, than this persistent card- 
 playing with her father. Still he was 
 conscious that there are times when a 
 certain amount of draughts, cribbage, or 
 their equivalent have to be got through 
 with the parents of the beloved one. There 
 is some servitude, even in these days, to be 
 undergone before Eachel is committed to 
 our keeping ; but that it should take the 
 form of ecarte for high stakes, was, to say 
 the least of it, singular and unprecedented. 
 
 But that resolution of Lydon's to wrench 
 himself from the thrall of the demon of play 
 was rendered nugatory by a peculiar but 
 insurmountable objection which he saw to 
 their desisting at this particular time. No 
 money had passed between them ; and 
 now they come to make up the account, it 
 became apparent that Jim was a heavier 
 loser than even he had imagined himself to 
 be. As for Lydon, he professed great 
 astonishment that his winnings could have
 
 clarisse's misgivings. 193 
 
 amounted to so high, a figure. He declared, 
 that though he had roughly noted down the 
 results of each encounter, he had never been 
 at the pains to add them up. 
 
 "My dear Hawksbury," he said, "I 
 cannot take this sum from you ; it is im- 
 possible for us to stop just now ; we must 
 go on till the balance between us is trivial, 
 either on one side or the other, then we will 
 make an end of it at once, and put the 
 accursed cards away forever." 
 
 He spoke passionately, and Jim fancied 
 he could see him shiver slightly, as men do 
 at times on recalling some ugly memory of 
 the past. " What interpretation," thought 
 Hawksbury, as he walked back from Fulham 
 on that occasion, " is one to place upon this? 
 Most men, I presume, would say I am in 
 the hands of an experienced gambler, who 
 is intent upon plucking me to the last 
 feather ; and, upon my life, I couldn't blame 
 them for thinking that it is so. The only 
 thin 2: is. that I don't agree with them." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 The glamour of love closes our eyes to a 
 multitude of things. It glosses over and 
 refines objectionable relations ; it maketh a 
 bare sufficiency to assume the aspect of a 
 comfortable independence ; it tinges our 
 hopes with rose-colour ; it teaches us to 
 look upon those roseate hopes as already 
 realised ; it is wont to give us overweening 
 confidence in our future — in short, it is 
 wont for a time to deprive us of the clear 
 use of our understanding. Jim Hawksbury 
 is a shrewd man of the world, and if it had 
 not been for the attraction of Clarisse 
 Lydon's bright eyes, he had never been 
 drawn into the ecarte business. 'Now, he 
 cannot think ill of Clarisse's father ; he will 
 not suspect that there can be more than 
 ill-fortune connected with the reverses he 
 so consistently sustains. Then, again, he 
 argues this : four hundred and eighty-seven 
 pounds — for his losses amount to that, in 
 spite of the small stakes they commenced 
 playing for — will involve an application to
 
 clarisse's misgivings. 195 
 
 Sir Bandolph ; that an application of that 
 kind invariably involves a row, and, there- 
 fore, he may as well woo fortune a little 
 longer, and endeavour to win back what he 
 has lost. The interview with his father 
 will be quite as unpleasant, whether the 
 sum he wants be a little more or a little less. 
 
 "And you will be glad to get back to 
 your own country again, no doubt," re- 
 sponded Jim, as he sat toying with a paper- 
 knife in Clarisse Lydon's drawing-room one 
 afternoon towards the end of May. 
 
 "Yes, though I confess to having had a 
 pleasant time in England, too ; but I look 
 forward to seeing the old friends we left 
 behind us once more." 
 
 "And when shall we see you again on 
 this side?" 
 
 " I don't know. We must go home to 
 arrange things a bit. But papa ought not 
 to winter in Canada ; we shall perhaps go 
 south as soon as the cold sets in." 
 
 " I shall miss you terribly ; it's sad work 
 
 o 2
 
 196 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 always saying good-bye to friends, about 
 whom you can make no definite conjecture 
 as to when you may see them again." 
 
 " Yes," replied Clarisse, " but, thank 
 Heaven, we always do hope to see them 
 again ; good-bye would be too painful to 
 bear if it were not for that. We shall very 
 likely come to England again ; if not, well, 
 we must hope that duty or curiosity may 
 call you to my country." 
 
 " Fm afraid there's no chance of the first ; 
 they never send horse-soldiers to Canada. I 
 wonder why not, by-the-way ; not a cavalry 
 country, I suppose." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," replied Miss Lydon, 
 roguishly ; " I don't see why you shouldn't 
 skate, curl, valse, and drive, as well as the 
 infantry officers. That making yourselves 
 agreeable, and proficiency in ball- giving, are 
 what we Canada girls look upon as the 
 chief duties of the army." 
 
 "Well," laughed Jim, "I hope we should 
 not be found wanting in any of these points ;
 
 clapjsse's misgivings. 197 
 
 the ladies of England, I think, cherish 
 similar views concerning our utility." 
 
 The conversation here rather dropped 
 between them. We exchange nothings 
 without much effort, but when we contem- 
 plate speaking in earnest, we are wont to 
 find speech less fluent and to hesitate more 
 about opening our lips. 
 
 These young people had each of them 
 something of grave import to say to the 
 other, and were meditating how best that 
 something was to be said. It was a harder 
 problem to solve for the man than the 
 woman, because Clarisse Lydon did know 
 what she wished to ask, and Hawksbury 
 was by no means so thoroughly definite with 
 regard to his question. What Jim wished 
 to know was, how far he had progressed in 
 his fair companion's good graces. It was no 
 light flirtation this, on his part. He felt 
 thoroughly in earnest, but, nevertheless, he 
 had by no manner of means made up his 
 mind to put his fortune to the test this after-
 
 198 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 noon. He would fain discover what chance 
 there might be for him should he ask this 
 girl to be his wife, and yet he had not 
 thoroughly decided that he would do so, let 
 things look propitious as they might. 
 
 I suppose we don't all sally forth with 
 our minds definitely made up on these 
 occasions, and that accident quite as often 
 precipitates a man into matrimony as not. 
 
 Miss Lydon, on the other hand, had in 
 the last few days awoke to the fact that Jim 
 and her father were not playing cards for 
 sugar-plums, and that knowledge had per- 
 turbed her greatly. She was very young, 
 and she knew very little about card-playing ; 
 but few of us attain our seventeenth year 
 without, either orally or by reading, knowing 
 that gambling is pretty sure to be disastrous 
 to some of those engaged in it. Clarisse 
 saw nothing but harm, either to her father 
 or to a man she at all events liked ex- 
 tremely ; and yet, girl as she was, how was 
 she to interfere ? Indulgent as her father was
 
 claeisse's misgivings. 199 
 
 to her, still she did not quite like to speak 
 to him on this point. Was it possible to 
 speak to Mr. Hawksbury ? She thought so. 
 At the present moment she is pondering 
 upon how to begin. It looked quite easy 
 last night ; now, here is the opportunity, and 
 it somehow seems an extremely awkward 
 subject to touch upon. 
 
 She continues to stitch steadily at her 
 embroidery, while Jim as continuously twirls 
 the- paper-knife between his restless fingers. 
 That they have been some minutes without 
 speaking occurs to neither of them — they 
 are each too absorbed in their own thoughts ; 
 as usual, it is the woman's mind asserts 
 itself first. 
 
 " Mr. Hawksbury ! " suddenly exclaimed 
 Clarisse, " will you forgive me a somewhat 
 rude question ?" 
 
 "Certainly ; of course you have a motive 
 for it, which probably makes it no longer 
 rude/' 
 
 "Are you very fond — I mean," asked
 
 200 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 Clarisse, with some little hesitation, "very 
 much given to playing cards V 
 
 •"No! Why?" 
 
 " Because you play here continually," she 
 answered quickly, while the colour in her 
 cheeks deepened; "and from a chance word 
 you dropped the other night, I fancy you 
 and papa bet a good deal of money on the 
 game. It rather worries me to think it 
 should be so." 
 
 This was an awkward complication. Jim 
 was silent. He could not deny the fact, and 
 he did not quite know what to plead in 
 extenuation. 
 
 " I will tell you why," continued Clarisse; 
 " I know very little about cards, but every- 
 body knows when they are played for money 
 someone must lose. We are not rich and 
 cannot afford to lose." 
 
 (t I can assure you your father is none 
 the worse for our battles," interposed Jim, 
 quickly. 
 
 "That makes it no better," replied the
 
 clakisse's misgivings. 201 
 
 girl. "If lie is not, then you must be, and 
 I am no whit better satisfied with the result. 
 I cannot conceive what made him propose 
 such a thing. Until the other nioiit I had 
 no suspicion that you played for anything 
 but trifling stakes. It annoys me very 
 much to find that it is quite the reverse, 
 more particularly as it was papa proposed 
 this dreadful ecarte." 
 
 " Miss Lydon, you may acquit your father 
 altogether on that point," replied Jim, 
 earnestly. "AYe commenced our ecarte the 
 night he dined with me, and cards were 
 proposed then neither by him nor myself, 
 but by another man who had dined with 
 us." 
 
 " I am glad of that — very glad of that. 
 I assure you, Mr. Hawksbury, till the other 
 day, I never saw my father with a card in 
 his hand. AYe never had such a thing 
 in the house before that I can remember." 
 
 " You see," replied Jim, more intent upon 
 soothing the girl's vexation than anything
 
 202 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 else, " your father, it so happened, was very 
 lucky upon that first occasion in my rooms, 
 and when I came down to see him a day or 
 two after, I daresay he thought he ought to 
 give me a chance of winning back what 
 I had lost to him. No very great sum, 
 by-the-way." 
 
 " Oh yes, that must have been how it 
 was," cried the girl, gleefully. "He could 
 not want to win your money, you know." 
 
 Jim, as he looked into her bright, eao-er 
 face, believed her implicitly, albeit he was 
 conscious of a lurking conviction that it 
 would have been difficult to induce the 
 world generally to share in that belief; 
 moreover, whatever Alfred Lydon might or 
 might not wish oh this question of winning, 
 he had so far undoubtedly won. 
 
 " However, Miss Lydon," said Hawks- 
 bury, " you're giving us good advice, and I 
 will take care to profit by it. Your father, 
 as you say, does not want to win my money 
 any more than I do to lose it. Naturally,"
 
 clartsse's misgivings. 203 
 
 lie continued, laughing, " the simplest pre- 
 caution to take against such misfortune is to 
 stop our play. Don't you think that will be 
 best ? " 
 
 " I should imagine so," rejoined the girl, 
 quickly, " but it would be presumptuous of 
 me to give an opinion. It's what I should 
 like though." 
 
 " What Miss Lydon likes is law, as she 
 well knows," returned the hussar, in such 
 quiet, earnest tones, as made the speech 
 considerably more than the empty compli- 
 ment it habitually is. 
 
 " Then ]\liss Lydon requests you to stop 
 to dinner," replied the girl, blushing slightly. 
 
 " I cannot do that," he rejoined quietly. 
 '"Do you not see it would be difficult to 
 refuse your father's ecarte invitation after- 
 wards. Wait till I have had a satisfactory 
 explanation with him on that subject." 
 
 "And why not have that to-night?" 
 inquired Clarisse. 
 
 "Because it is not possible."
 
 204 SUXSHIXE AXD sxow. 
 
 She knit her brows, and thought for a 
 little, and then said, stretching out her hand : 
 " Good-bye. I am not sure, but I think I 
 understand. Things will be all arranged 
 when next you come. Don't let it be long 
 first."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " CLARISSE EXPOSTULATES." 
 
 Clapjsse sat pondering for some minutes 
 after Hawksbury had departed. She was 
 very seriously disturbed at discovering that 
 her suspicions about the card-playing were 
 only too true. It did not seem to her to 
 make much difference as to who was the 
 loser, who the winner. To pay a large sum 
 of money Clarisse knew would inconvenience 
 her father considerably. She presumed it 
 would be pretty much the same with Mr. 
 Hawksbury. She could not quite analyse 
 her feelings, but it was very repugnant to 
 her to think that the one friend they had 
 made in England should have such cause to
 
 206 SUNSHINE AXD SNOW. 
 
 rue the day lie had made their acquaintance. 
 That it should have all happened, too, in 
 their own house made it appear worse still in 
 her eves. She was very young and with 
 slight knowledge of the world, but she felt 
 intensely that this was an affair upon which 
 people would indulge in bitter commentary 
 should they know of it. True, they lived 
 so completely by themselves that there was 
 little likelihood of its being discussed, but 
 the girl derived little comfort from that. 
 
 Honest and straightforward by nature, 
 and with a dash of chivalry in her dis- 
 position, this spoiling of the guest beneath 
 their roof-tree seemed more shameful to 
 Clarisse the more she reflected on it. She 
 held to the Arab tradition concerning the 
 obligations of bread and salt, and lacked 
 utterly the refined cynicism so much in 
 voo-ue midst society at present. She felt she 
 must speak to her father about this matter, 
 and yet she relished the idea no more than 
 she had that of interrogating Hawksbury
 
 " CLARISSE EXPOSTULATES." 207 
 
 about it. True, he was usually a kind, 
 indulgent father to her, but he could speak 
 sharp and be very decided on occasion. She 
 rose at length, and, though her heart beat 
 somewhat quickly, took her way resolutely 
 to the painting-room. 
 
 Her father looked up at her for a moment, 
 and then quietly continued his employment. 
 Clarisse fidgeted about the room for a little, 
 then crossing softly to the side of the easel, 
 said abruptly : " Papa, what made you com- 
 mence card-playing with Mr. Hawksbury ? " 
 
 He started very slightly at her question, 
 looked keenly into her face for a second, and 
 then muttered, more to himself than in 
 answer to her : " Ah, what ? " 
 
 " I never knew you do such a thing 
 before," she continued. " We never had a 
 pack of cards in the house at home, and I 
 can't tell you how sorry I was the other 
 night when I found out that you and Mr. 
 Hawksbury were betting high upon your 
 game."
 
 208 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 " I don't know," he replied, " that you 
 had much cause to fret yourself about it, 
 ma mignonne." 
 
 Clarisse was astonished how gently he 
 answered her. She could not know that her 
 remonstrance recalled to Alfred Lydon 
 another fair face that had similarly, in by- 
 gone years, pleaded with him to forego the 
 fascination of high play, nor what unutter- 
 able woe the deaf ear he had turned to 
 her prayer had afterwards occasioned the 
 pleader. 
 
 She hesitated a moment before she an- 
 swered. She could not quite tell her father 
 she did not think it right ; so cast about for 
 a more uncompromising term. 
 
 " I do not think it nice," she said at 
 length, "to win a lot of money from a guest, 
 papa." 
 
 " And pray how do you know I have ? " 
 he inquired curiously. 
 
 " Because I spoke to Mr. Hawksbury 
 about it."
 
 209 
 
 " And he told you so ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, he did not. I told him I 
 knew that you were playing high, and that 
 I didn't like it. He seemed to think that 
 I was afraid on your account, and hastened 
 to assure me that you were not hurt by it. 
 But, of course, that is equivalent to saying 
 that he is the loser." 
 
 "It is true, I have won a good deal from 
 him ; and it's God's truth, Clarisse, I wish 
 I had not." 
 
 " I know it, papa. I was sure of it. I 
 told Mr. Hawksbury that I was sure you 
 couldn't want to win his money." 
 
 " Sit down, child, and listen to me. More 
 than twenty years ago, I wrecked my life at 
 the card- table. I'm not going to — indeed, I 
 could not bear to — tell you the story, but I 
 woke one morning socially ruined. From 
 that moment I vowed never to touch a card 
 again, and till about six weeks ago I kept 
 my word. Gambling to me is a passion so 
 absorbing, that there is nothing for it but 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 SUXSHIXE AXD SNOW. 
 
 total abstinence. Like the drunkard or the 
 opium-eater, I have no rational limits when 
 I once embark on my delirium. You've 
 read, perchance, of men who, when they 
 once broke from their resolve against ardent 
 spirits, lost all control over themselves, and 
 could not refrain till either necessity or ill- 
 health compelled them. I am the same in 
 card-playing. I would play as long as ever 
 I could induce men to sit at the table. I 
 would play for almost any stakes they chose 
 to propose. Once I taste this madness I am 
 no longer master of myself. I am usually a 
 fortunate player. I am abstemious, play 
 well, and am always absorbed in the game ; 
 my adversary never obtains a hand's-breadth 
 over me through inattention or want of 
 memory, and the majority of men who play 
 at times commit these indiscretions ; those 
 who are neophytes continually do so." 
 
 " Papa," interrupted Clarisse, in a low 
 voice, " what chance had Mr. Hawksbury 
 with you, even on your showing ? "
 
 CLARISSE EXPOSTULATES." 211 
 
 " None, I admit/' replied the artist. " I 
 had not only those advantages over him 
 I have mentioned, but I am a much 
 superior player to boot." 
 
 " Was it right, then, to play with 
 him for high stakes in your own house ? 
 Surely you cannot think that. How it 
 all began I know — he told me, most 
 thoroughly exonerating you at the same 
 time." 
 
 "Did he," replied Lydon, with a faint 
 smile. " It shows him a loyal, true-hearted 
 gentleman, at all events. In the madness 
 that has possessed me of late I have 
 thought of nothing but the fierce excite- 
 ment of the actual Q-ame. I knew I was 
 a winner, but hardly realised to what an 
 extent till Hawksbury insisted on making 
 up the account. Still there are men who, 
 losing in this way to a man of whom 
 they know nothing, would have had ugly 
 thoughts concernino; it." 
 
 He strolled across to the fireplace as 
 
 p 2
 
 212 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 he spoke, and looked moodily into the 
 empty grate. 
 
 A terrible idea flashed across Clarisse's 
 mind, and the girl turned pale almost to 
 her lips ; but no, she would not conceive 
 that it was possible anyone could imagine 
 her father guilty of anything dishonourable ; 
 still, what else could he allude to ? That 
 dim conception she had had, that people 
 might make bitter comment concerning 
 this business, if it got abroad, began to 
 take definite shape in her mind. 
 
 "You surely cannot mean, papa," she 
 stammered at length, "that anyone could 
 dare to impute dishonourable motives to 
 
 you?" 
 
 " Quite likely," he answered dryly. 
 
 "Oh why — oh why did you ever begin ? " 
 she exclaimed vehemently, as the idea that 
 Hawksbury might also be imbued with that 
 suspicion presented itself to her. 
 
 "Ah!" he replied slowly, as if arguing 
 more with himself than answering her :
 
 "CLARISSE EXPOSTULATES." 213 
 
 " Why ? Plausible motive to myself — I 
 had won a little from him, and wished that 
 he should win it back. Eeal reason — the 
 spirit of play that had been fettered within 
 me for over twenty years was once more 
 unchained." 
 
 " Still, papa, what induced you to in- 
 crease the stakes as you have done of 
 late ? " 
 
 " The mocking fiend of play within me. 
 I wished Hawksbury to recover his losses. 
 I swore that I would play badly, that I 
 would display such carelessness and ob- 
 tuseness that fortune must run in his 
 favour. Absurd. I could no more resist 
 doing my utmost to beat him when we 
 faced each other at the card-table, than if 
 I had been playing for my very existence. 
 I am a gambler, Clarisse, of the highest 
 class ; one who plays to win, not for the 
 actual stake, but because to beat his 
 opponent is a necessity to him. My 
 nerve is as good playing for hundreds as
 
 214 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 for halfpence ; the fierce thirst to win about 
 the same in either case. I am a phe- 
 nomenon in this respect. I have seen few 
 like me ; never anyone who resembled me 
 altogether. Those whom I have en- 
 countered, that come nearest to me, they 
 who reckoned the victory of more account 
 than the spoils, never possessed my faculty 
 of absorption when the stakes were trifling. 
 It seemed that the battle must be waged on 
 a certain scale to interest them thoroughly. 
 With me it is not so ; once place cards in 
 my hands and I must win, if it is possible 
 for me to compass it. I cannot bear defeat, 
 let the prize be only a sugar-plum. It is 
 not so in other things," he continued in 
 melancholy tones. " I would it were, and I 
 might have shown more earnestness in life ; 
 but play, Clarisse, is my master, and I have 
 never been able to strive so thoroughly in 
 any other pursuit. It's an infatuation, 
 monomania, what you will ; my curse, and 
 I cannot help it."
 
 " CLAEISSE EXPOSTULATES." 215 
 
 As lie finished, he turned, and resting 
 his elbow upon the mantelpiece, looked 
 steadfastly at his daughter. 
 
 She bent her head to avoid his gaze, 
 toying nervously with some work that she 
 had in her hand. 
 
 "You love this man," he exclaimed 
 sharply. 
 
 " You have no right to say that of me," 
 she replied, quickly, as she threw her head 
 proudly up, though her cheeks flushed 
 somewhat at the abrupt accusation. " I 
 am not likely to bestow what has not been 
 sought, and Mr. Hawksbury has never 
 spoken to me in that wise. He is the one 
 friend we hav ■ made in England, and I 
 am loath to think that he should ever have 
 cause, perhaps bitter cause — you know best, 
 papa — to remember that he had made our 
 acquaintance." 
 
 "What would you have me do?" he 
 inquired curiously. 
 
 " Give up playing with him."
 
 216 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 " You little fool, how can I ? I, who am 
 at present a considerable winner, refuse to 
 continue ! Impossible. I must play on as 
 long as he likes. That he will ever recover 
 his losses is, as I told you, hopeless. 
 Despite every resolution I could make, I 
 cannot help playing to win. I am too good 
 for him in every point, and can no more 
 resist putting forth all my strength when it 
 comes to the test than I can help breathing. 
 I must win." 
 
 Clarisse dropped her head upon her 
 hands. Even she saw no solution of this 
 difficulty. Clearly her father, as a winner, 
 could not decline to continue the fray 
 should the loser desire it ; and yet, as he 
 himself told her, the longer the struggle 
 should last the worse it would be for Jim. 
 
 "My mind is made up," said her father, 
 after a pause of some minutes. " I am as 
 anxious there should be an end of this 
 business as yourself. We must leave 
 England at once ; it is but anticipating
 
 "CLARISSE EXPOSTULATES." 217 
 
 our departure by three weeks. All that 
 is very simple. You have only to bear in 
 mind that Haw ksbury must have no inkling 
 of our change of plans." 
 
 "Do you mean that we are not to say 
 good-bye to him ? " exclaimed Clarisse, with 
 symptoms of dismay visible in her coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Precisely. That is a very essential 
 part of my plan. " 
 
 " But what will he think of us ? It is so 
 uncourteous, so unkind not to wish him 
 farewell." 
 
 " It is impossible. Can you not see that 
 if he says good-bye to me he will have to 
 pay what he owes me ? " 
 
 " But you wouldn't take the money," said 
 the girl, anxiously. 
 
 "You don't understand these things. I 
 should have no alternative ; it would be 
 impossible for me to refuse. Men when 
 they gamble do so in earnest, and I cannot 
 treat Hawksbury as if he were a child. It
 
 218 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 would be an impertinence that lie would be 
 quite justified in resenting. No ; lie will 
 feel himself bound in honour to settle with 
 me before I leave, and I cannot decline to 
 receive his money ; but if I leave at once, 
 unexpectedly, without his knowledge, I 
 prevent there being a settlement between 
 us. It is the only manner in which I can 
 prevent his suffering a somewhat heavy loss 
 at my hands, and to some extent redeem my 
 broken vow." 
 
 ee I understand," replied the girl. " It is 
 better far that he should think us rude than 
 that you should take this money. Still, I 
 own that I am sorry that he should even 
 be left to imagine that of us." 
 
 "You seem strangely anxious about Mr. 
 Hawksbury's good opinion," said Lydon, 
 quietly. 
 
 " Not more than we have good cause for. 
 He is the one friend, remember, that we 
 have made since we set foot in this 
 country," retorted Clarisse, throwing back
 
 "CLARISSE EXPOSTULATES." 219 
 
 her head defiantly. " Since he has been at 
 Aldershot, and we have seen much of him, 
 he has been kindness itself in so many little 
 ways — about books, music, lots of things. 
 I shall miss him immensely, and own 
 honestly it is a trouble to me to know that 
 I cannot wish him good-bye." 
 
 Lydon made no answer, but, crossing- 
 over to his easel, proceeded to cleanse and 
 lay aside his brushes. That done, he turned 
 and said : "I shall take berths in the next 
 steamer, if possible. You can get ready." 
 
 " Of course," replied the girl. 
 
 Her father left the room without further 
 remark, and Clarisse was left to picture to 
 herself what Jim Hawksbury would think of 
 their stealthy and silent departure when he 
 should come to know of it. 
 
 What he actually did think she was not 
 destined to know till many months after- 
 wards.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "A FEW WORDS WITH SIR RANDOLPH." 
 
 As Jim Hawksbury walked back from 
 Grove Terrace after liis talk with Clarisse 
 Lydon, lie began to think somehow seriously 
 over the situation. Yes, he no longer 
 attempted to deny to himself that his feeling 
 for the girl was considerably more than it is 
 good to hold in the game of ephemeral 
 flirtation ; even that had never been very 
 much in Jim's way, and so far he had been 
 strangely careless to female fascination. It 
 was not that he hadn't been kindly regarded 
 by those on "promotion," or at all events 
 by their mothers and chaperons, for a 
 good-looking young fellow, who is heir to a
 
 "A FEW WORDS WITH SIR RANDOLPH. ' 221 
 
 baronetcy and some eight or ten thousand a 
 year, is worth spinning for, save by those 
 who do their angling in very highly 
 preserved waters. But Jim's enthusiastic 
 sporting propensities keep him rather aloof 
 from the drawing-room as a rule ; it was not 
 that he felt at all ill at ease in woman's 
 society, simply that he did not run after it. 
 He was popular with the sex enough, and 
 by no means deficient in small talk when he 
 met them at the dinner-table, could do his 
 duty manfully at a country ball when he 
 could be got there ; but it must be owned 
 when staying in a country house he was one 
 of those men you saw little of in the 
 daytime. 
 
 Jim Hawksbury is very fairly sensible for 
 twenty-five, and proceeds, as he walks 
 leisurely through the Park, to argue this 
 affair out with himself. Quite clear, he 
 admits in the first place, that he has arrived 
 at caring about Clarisse very much more 
 than is prudent, and what conclusion is he
 
 222 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 to come to on tin's point — what is to be the 
 end of it ? It is difficult to decide this, 
 because he has not at all made up his own 
 mind on the subject. Does he thoroughly 
 believe in the honesty and honour of this 
 man, whose luck at cards is so unvarying ? 
 He thinks so, but is conscious of dim 
 misgivings in the background ; above all, 
 that to no one else conversant with the story 
 will any such credulity be vouchsafed. That 
 Clarisse is thoroughly innocent of any com- 
 plicity to plunder him, if such scheme after 
 all there be, he is prepared to swear ; after 
 to-day's conversation who could doubt her ? 
 Still, does he love this girl, of whose ante- 
 cedents he knows nothing, well enough to 
 marry her in the face of the world and his 
 relations ? He cannot say. He is quite 
 aware of what the verdict would be on such 
 a match. Keep the story quiet as he likes, 
 he must o;o to his father for this monev, and 
 Sir Randolph will draw his own deductions 
 only too quickly of the why it was wanted,
 
 e< A FEW WORDS WITH SIR RANDOLPH." 223 
 
 quite certain that cards were at the bottom 
 of it ; it will leak out. Verdict of society — 
 that he fell a victim to a practised gambler, 
 who stripped him to begin with, and then 
 married him to his daughter. Poor Jim 
 Hawksbur y ! 
 
 After a time he dismisses this problem 
 from his mind. Quite clear about his love 
 for Clarisse, but still painfully uncertain how 
 far it is reciprocated, and he feels, till he has 
 arrived at a clear understanding on this 
 point, it is not necessary to come to a 
 determination. The next thing he has to 
 consider is simple — his mind pretty well 
 made up about this, as soon as Clarisse told 
 him how this card-playing for high stakes 
 worried her. He would stop at once. It 
 was scarce likely, he felt, that he should turn 
 the tables on Lydon ; he was convinced that 
 the artist was a better player than himself ; 
 but Jim had seen fortune stand so much to 
 a man, moderately capable of taking advan- 
 tage of her smiles at ecarte, that he had
 
 224 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 rather trusted to his usually good luck to 
 pull him through. Lydon, unfortunately, 
 proved the better card-holder of the twain. 
 
 " Only one line to take/' thought Jim, 
 " make up our account, get the money from 
 the governor — that involves a row, of course, 
 but one's had 'em before — and then settle 
 with Lydon, and tell him I'll have no more 
 of it. If he's a leg he may try to dissuade 
 me, and look dissatisfied. If he is not, he 
 will acquiesce readily, and express some 
 civil regrets at my ill luck : regrets," 
 muttered Jim, with a rueful smile, "in 
 which I shall heartily concur." 
 
 Two mornings after he had come to this 
 resolution, Jim created some astonishment 
 at Eutland Gate by presenting himself there 
 in the morning, and requesting to see 
 Sir Eandolph. A little thrill of curiosity 
 diffused itself throughout the house at this 
 intelligence. 
 
 " What brings Mr. Hawksbury here 
 before lunch ? " asked the butler of his
 
 A FEW WORDS WITH SIB RANDOLPH." 225 
 
 compatriots below stairs, "which it's never 
 his habit to come here before ; and as for 
 wanting to see Sir Randolph, it is what his 
 family is not given to at this time of day, 
 and I say emphatically with reason. Per- 
 sonally, I prefer to see as little as possible of 
 him in the morning, disliking all unpleasant- 
 ness which jars upon the nerves." 
 
 My lady rapidly arrived at the conclusion 
 that her arguments had proved irresistible 
 and that Jim had come to explain his inten- 
 tions regrardino; Lettv Auriole to his father • 
 while Sara Hawksbury, when her mother 
 informed her of the fact, murmured to 
 herself : " Jim's got into a scrape of some 
 sort. I wonder what it is — only money, I 
 trust." But on one point the household 
 were in accord, although unknowingly, and 
 were stricken with an insatiable desire to see 
 Jim whenever he should emerge from Sir 
 Randolph's sanctum. My lady and Sara, 
 the butler and lady's maid, all smitten with 
 this laudable spirit of inquiring into things 
 
 TOL. I. Q
 
 226 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 not concerning them. We may not be 
 aware of it, but any departure from the 
 ordinary routine of our lives places us at 
 once under the strictest surveillance of our 
 domestics, who think it incumbent upon 
 them, not in our interests, but their own, to 
 be as well informed about our thoughts, 
 words, actions, and correspondence, as may 
 be possible of attainment. 
 
 Sir Randolph always retired with his 
 letters and the paper to his own room after 
 breakfast, and it was perfectly understood 
 that he was by. no means heavenly of temper 
 if disturbed, even when there was important 
 reason for doing so, therefore the house had 
 cause to imagine the interview between 
 father and son about some thin o- of im- 
 portance. Sir Randolph was not a man who 
 had ever shown much affection for his 
 children, and those who disliked his cold, 
 indolent manner would have added, nor for 
 anyone else ; he was not a man of warm 
 sympathies and quick feelings, nor given to
 
 " A FEW WORDS WITH SIR RANDOLPH." 227 
 
 the forming of strong friendships. He had 
 gone through life making many acquaint- 
 ances, but very few intimates ; he was 
 indulgent to his family as long as they did 
 not run counter to his wishes, and as those, 
 thanks to his natural indolence, were but 
 sparsely formulated, there was no very great 
 scope for discovering his wife or children 
 acting in opposition to them ; when such 
 had been the case, he had been invariably 
 both obstinate and autocratic. 
 
 He looked up from his paper as his son 
 entered, nodded carelessly to him, and said : 
 
 " You have something to say, of course, 
 or you wouldnt be here ; you know I hate 
 beino; bothered immediatelv after breakfast : 
 won't it keep ? " 
 
 One of Sir Eandolph's hallucinations was 
 that these were his business hours, though 
 reading the paper, and occasionally answer- 
 ing a business letter, constituted the whole 
 work done during this retirement ; but there 
 are divers elderly gentlemen who are wont 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 to retire to their studies under similar 
 delusion. 
 
 " No ; I am in a scrape, rather," replied 
 Jim ; " I got entangled in play before I 
 knew quite what I was about, and I've lost 
 a good lot of money." 
 
 " Excuse me," replied the Baronet ; " but 
 you're out of your teens : at your age men 
 don't get entangled in play." 
 
 " Well, they ought not," replied Jim, as 
 he quietly took a chair ; " and it's been 
 deuced stupid of me to do so ; however, it's 
 done, and there's nothing for it but to pay. 
 I have stopped, and you need be in no fear 
 of my taking to it again." 
 
 "I always considered, when I settled your 
 present allowance, that it was to be suffi- 
 cient. Eemember, it was increased two 
 years ago on an occasion of this kind, but 
 now you have discovered that ^amblino* is 
 one of the essentials of a young man's life, 
 it will be difficult to say what income you 
 may require."
 
 "A FEW WORDS WITH SIK, RANDOLPH." 229 
 
 "It is no use talking in this way, father ; 
 I have knocked about the London world 
 quite long enough to know that you played, 
 in your youth, very much higher than I 
 have done." 
 
 " Because I was a fool once, sir, it doesn't 
 follow I am going to abet you in becoming 
 one," retorted the Baronet sharply. 
 
 "As I told you before, I have quite 
 finished with it. I have gone no tremendous 
 smash. I'm not asking you to find a very 
 big sum. Five hundred will see me all 
 clear." 
 
 " And suppose I decline to let you have 
 it?" said Sir Randolph, considerably relieved 
 to find that it was no worse. 
 
 " You will compel me to raise it," retorted 
 Jim coolly. " Of course I can in more ways 
 than one, though it would probably entail 
 going to the tribes for it. Judging by 
 those that are left to us, it's an infinite 
 mercy that five-sixths of the dozen were 
 lost."
 
 230 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 The jest rather tickled Sir Bandolph, and 
 he replied with quite a gracious grin : 
 " Wrong again, Jim ; competition always 
 knocks down prices, and if we had not lost 
 the confounded ten tribes we should have 
 paid fifteen per cent, instead of fifty. Yes, 
 they were a loss, a great loss to mankind ; 
 play and plunging will run high if ever 
 they're found again. But I think you 
 needn't trouble the children of Israel this 
 time. You shall have the money, if you 
 will only fall into my wishes about another 
 little matter." 
 
 "'What is it ? " asked Jim, with some 
 curiosity. 
 
 "Bah, a mere nothing: a thing' that I 
 know you have had in contemplation for 
 years past. We have all known it, and 
 wished it ; Uncle Eobert and all of us. It's 
 getting time you settled down, Jim. I 
 should like to have a glimpse of the boy 
 who's to follow you, before you reign at 
 Bingstone in my stead. Only tell me that
 
 "A FEW WORDS WITH SIR RANDOLPH." 231 
 
 all is settled between you and Letty, and 
 you shall have four times five hundred if 
 you want it." 
 
 " I suppose it's my mother has been 
 putting this into your head," returned Jim 
 dryly. 
 
 " Your mother never put much into any- 
 one's head," sneered the Baronet, <c especially 
 mine. I presume, however, she has been 
 urging this upon your consideration, and for 
 once in a way I'll admit she's been scheming 
 to some purpose. What do you say ! " 
 
 " I ? " said Jim, as he threw himself back 
 in his chair. " Why, of. course, I'll have 
 nothing to say on the subject. Letty and I 
 have never thought about each other in that 
 way, and it would bother us both dreadfully 
 to begin now. It's no use castle-building, 
 father ; that's a match will never come off. 
 To return to. the subject of the five 
 hundred." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you refuse to 
 ask Letty Auriole to marry you, when I tell
 
 232 SUXSHIXE AND SNOW. 
 
 you it is my wish that you should do so," 
 exclaimed Sir Randolph, with flushed cheeks 
 and studied tones. 
 
 " Just so," replied Jim, curtly. 
 
 " Then find your five hundred as you 
 best may," retorted his father, with eyes 
 flaming with passion. It was the first time 
 that anyone of his family had fairly revolted 
 and defied his autocratic decrees. No 
 wonder that Sir Randolph's wrath was 
 stirred. Jim, and Sara also, had shown 
 themselves contumacious before on occasion, 
 but this was the first clear case of open 
 mutiny. 
 
 Jim rose very deliberately. " Of course," 
 he said, " if that is your final decision 
 there's no more to be said. I must either 
 pledge the commission or raise money on 
 what is coming to me. It's a small affair, 
 and not very difficult to manage." 
 
 " And has it occurred to you that I shall 
 probably suspend your allowance ? " inter- 
 rupted Sir Randolph sharply.
 
 "a few words with SIR RANDOLPH." 233 
 
 "No; I don't well see how you could, 
 without having the verdict of society against 
 you, if not that of the law courts. You 
 might curtail it, but you cannot leave your 
 only son and heir without decent provision. 
 Besides, my dear father, I have more confi- 
 dence in your sense of justice. This five 
 hundred you have every right to refuse me, 
 but to cut off my allowance because I have 
 got a little into difficulties is surely scarce 
 fair. I am sorry we can't agree about 
 things, but as it is so, I can only apologise 
 for troubling you, and say good-bye." 
 
 Sir Eandolph vouchsafing no reply, Jim 
 left the room, with the intention of also 
 leaving the house, but the butler, who was 
 lying in wait in the hall, pounced upon him, 
 and said that Lady Hawksbury wished to 
 see him before he went. " Surely my 
 mother can't want to talk this all over 
 again," mused Jim, as he ascended the 
 stairs. " By the Lord, if there is one thing 
 more annoying than another, it's one's re-
 
 234 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 lations taking into their heads the arrans;e- 
 ment of one's marriage ; as if anything but 
 biliousness and ill-feeling could come of 
 such unwarrantable interference in a man's 
 affairs/' 
 
 " Good morning, mother," said Jim, as he 
 entered my lady's boudoir. " Pray excuse 
 my asking what is it, without preamble, as 
 I am grievously pressed for time. I beg 
 pardon, Sara, I didn't see you at first," and 
 crossing the room he shook hands with his 
 sister, who was coiled up on an ottoman in 
 the window. 
 
 " I don't wish to keep you, Jim," returned 
 Lady Hawksbury, " but you have had a 
 long and confidential interview with Sir 
 Kandolph this morning. May I ask what 
 about ? A mother's anxiety about her boy 
 may well excuse the question." 
 
 It was palpable as she spoke, that she 
 cared nothing concerning the conference of 
 her husband and son, unless it had touched 
 upon the present great scheme of her heart.
 
 "A FEW WORDS WITH SIR RANDOLPH. 235 
 
 " We talked upon a very old theme," 
 returned Jim, shortly, " and one upon 
 which fathers and sons have been wont 
 to differ from time immemorial — money 
 matters." 
 
 "Do you mean to say," exclaimed Lady 
 Hawksbury, at once utterly ignoring Jim's 
 reply, "that Sir Eandolph said nothing to 
 you about what I urged the other day ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Jim, with a shrug of 
 his shoulders, " of course we came to that. 
 I don't suppose I shall be able to converse 
 with any of my family without that crop- 
 ping up for the next three months ; " and 
 here the hussar favoured Sara with a defiant 
 glance, so thoroughly comprehended by the 
 recipient, that she said quietly : 
 
 " I have no idea of what vou are talking." 
 
 " Of the matrimonial arrangements you 
 have been kind enough to map out for me 
 amongst you," returned her brother. 
 
 " My dear Jim," observed Lady Hawks- 
 bury, " I am so glad to find that Sir
 
 23 G SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 Randolph agrees with me on this point ; 
 really the sooner you settle things with 
 Letty the better." 
 
 " I knew nothing of this," interposed 
 Sara, quickly and earnestly, seeing at once 
 that her parents had shattered her own pet 
 dream by indiscreet interference. 
 
 " I told you the other day, mother," said 
 Jim, " that you were altogether mistaken in 
 this matter. Letty and I are excellent 
 friends, with no wish to be anything more 
 to each other. If you want nothing more 
 with me excuse my saying good-bye ; I am 
 rather hurried." 
 
 " You are mad — ungrateful, to thwart 
 the wishes of your parents," exclaimed Lady 
 Hawksbury, applying her handkerchief to 
 her eyes with much theatrical emotion. 
 
 Muttering something to the effect that 
 parents who formed unreasonable wishes 
 had no right to complain of their non- 
 fulfilment, Jim, with a nod to his sister, left 
 the room.
 
 "A FEW WORDS WITH SIR RANDOLPH." 237 
 
 " To think that he should be so obstinate, 
 so blind to his own interests !" said her lady- 
 ship, plaintively, and no more able to resist 
 the temptation of posing before her daughter 
 than if the audience had been larger. 
 
 " Ah, it has been a sad mistake, meddling 
 between those two, mamma. I don't know 
 what chance there was before, but I'm 
 afraid now that wedding will never be," 
 replied Sara. 
 
 She knew, none better, that there was a 
 strong vein of what our friends call re- 
 solution, and our detractors obstinacy, 
 underlying her brother's character — that 
 especially was he not to be coerced or 
 bullied into other people's opinions. Jim 
 said quite truly that he had never dreamed 
 of falling in love with Letty Auriole, and to 
 achieve that blissful state at command of 
 the authorities has been proved an im- 
 possibility from time out of mind. What- 
 ever the future might have brought forth, 
 Sara felt assured no warmer affection than
 
 238 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 friendship would ever be born between 
 those two now. Even if her brother would 
 lend himself to such a scheme, Letty was 
 far too quick-witted a girl not to see 
 through the hollowness of a simulated 
 passion, nor did Sara indeed desire that 
 they should make a marriage cle convenance. 
 No ; if no real love could ever spring up 
 between the two, then she was content that 
 her dream should never be realised ; that it 
 never would be now, Sara Hawksbury felt 
 assured.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Leaving Eutland Gate. Jim turns moodily 
 up the Park, and commences to think it all 
 out. What on earth could have suddenly 
 put it into the heads of the family that he 
 must wed Letty Auriole ? What earthly 
 business had parents in these nineteenth- 
 century days to arrange marriages for their 
 children in that arbitrary fashion ? The 
 governor, too, hinting at carrying on like a 
 stock-comedy uncle ! li Ridiculous ! I shall 
 marry whom I please," and as Jim came to 
 that conclusion a fair face rose before him, 
 which was not that of the heiress assuredly. 
 The more he reflects on the morning's pro-
 
 240 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 ceedings the more wrathful lie becomes. 
 He mutters disparaging comment of Sir 
 Eandolph to himself, such as sons will use 
 at times when their progenitors decline to 
 provide decently for their necessities. " It 
 was no great sum for him to find," he argued; 
 Cf and I've never gone a real cracker, as some 
 fellows do. He's never been called upon to 
 provide for more than a slight miscalculation 
 of revenue. I don't want to go in for post- 
 obits, bills, and all the regular routine, and 
 I don't think, after what I said, he's likely 
 to interfere with the allowance ; but marry 
 as I choose, I will, by G — d ! and at no 
 man's bidding." Very clear upon this latter 
 point, Jim most especially decided that his 
 wife shall be of his own selection, and advice 
 or recommendation of relatives bear in no 
 wise upon that question. 
 
 Still, the question more immediately in 
 hand is the procuring of this five hundred 
 pounds. It is not, as Jim truly said, one 
 of any very great difficulty. There were
 
 "SETTLEMENT." 241 
 
 hundreds in Babylon who would be only too 
 pleased to supply the heir of Ringstone 
 Abbey with considerably more than that 
 sum upon some formal signing of stamped 
 papers. But if Jim had as yet been without 
 dealings with the money-lenders, he was no 
 neophyte about stepping within the toils, 
 and was simply running over in his mind 
 who of his friends mi^ht be best fitted to 
 advise him in such emergency. 
 
 Still cogitating upon this subject, he 
 walked up the north side of the Row, so 
 as to avoid the throng that constitute, in 
 society's slang, ''a park," when he was 
 suddenly arrested by a heavy hand on his 
 shoulder, and the exclamation : 
 
 i: Jim, my boy, you look as if you had a 
 book that wouldn't bear thinking over." 
 
 " Uncle Robert ! " he ejaculated, turning 
 round on the aggressor, " why, what brings 
 you to town ? " 
 
 " Well, that's satisfactory," responded the 
 Rector, with a jolly laugh. " It can't be 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 the book anyhow. What brings me to town ? 
 Why, what has brought me to town for the 
 last five-and-twenty years — the Isthmian 
 games, lad. I'm up to see the Derby." 
 
 " Of course. What a fool I am ! Excuse 
 me, I was rather in the clouds just now. 
 Where are you going ? " 
 
 " To lunch at the mother's. You'd better 
 come too, Jim. The old lady's real fond of 
 you, and, mind, she's one in ten thousand. 
 Your grandmother is worth about a score of 
 women of these times. Pooh, you needn't 
 think of your sweetheart, whoever she be. 
 For fun, for pluck, for brains, I never saw 
 her equal. I can recollect when she used 
 to dance, and lighter foot than hers there 
 wasn't in all Broadshire." 
 
 The Eector was always enthusiastic about 
 his mother ; if he was her favourite son he 
 well repaid her affection. From his boyish 
 days to the present time, Uncle Eobert would 
 have been always ready to slave night and 
 day at her behest. He said no more than
 
 "SETTLEMENT." 243 
 
 was part of his creed in life when he 
 described his mother as a woman in ten 
 thousand ; indeed, less, for in his heart he 
 believed there was no such other in existence. 
 
 " I shall be only too glad," returned the 
 young man. " Whatever I may be of hers, 
 I know grandmamma is an immense favourite 
 of mine, though she does chaff me wickedly 
 at times." 
 
 " Come along," said the Eector, as he 
 linked his arm in his nephew's. " But what 
 makes you look so particularly down in your 
 luck the Monday before the Derby ? " 
 
 Now, Uncle Eobert had been the confidant 
 of Jim's scrapes from early boyhood ; from 
 detection in premature smoking, or un- 
 warranted looting; of the orchard-house, to 
 college bills, or subsequent " miscalculations 
 of the revenue," Jim had never hid any 
 secrets of this nature from the Rector. Uncle 
 Eobert never scolded, never stormed ; to 
 call his nephew an unmitigated young idiot 
 was harsh language indeed from his lips,
 
 244 SUNSHINE AXD SNOW. 
 
 and only to be evoked by extreme reckless- 
 ness of conduct on Jim's part. He had stood, 
 in times past, more than once, between Sir 
 Randolph and his son, taking upon himself 
 to break the lad's delinquencies to his brother, 
 and fend off that first rush of wrath which is 
 the natural outburst of an indolent disposi- 
 tion, when its serenity is abruptly disturbed. 
 It had always seemed a matter of course 
 to have a talk with Uncle Robert over any 
 worries or perplexities, both to Jim and 
 Sara, even when they arrived at an age to 
 treat direct with the reigning powers. It 
 was, therefore, the most natural thing in 
 the world that Jim should relate the story 
 of his unsuccessful application to his father 
 for the five hundred to the Rector. Of the 
 condition Sir Randolph had attached to his 
 complying with the demand, Jim said 
 nothing — he simply chronicled his refusal ; 
 neither was he more communicative when 
 Uncle Robert put some rather probing 
 questions concerning how this money was
 
 ' ' SETTLEMENT. " 245 
 
 lost. That it was lost in play lie made no 
 disguise, but that he intended to say no 
 more he made very evident. The Kector 
 was far too high-minded a man to attempt 
 to force a confidence ; indeed, his great in- 
 fluence with his nephew and niece had been 
 greatly acquired by their complete reliance 
 that it was never necessary to tell more of 
 the story than they chose to Uncle Robert. 
 
 " I don't think Randolph behaved well 
 to you, I admit," said the Rev. Robert, at 
 the end of his nephew's story ; " of course, 
 if you mean gambling it wouldn't be much 
 good coming to your help, but I don't think 
 you do. You evidently don't intend to tell 
 me all about this business, and I wish to 
 know no more than you choose I should. I 
 thoroughly believe you want simply to pay 
 up your losses, and have done with it as 
 you say. I'd give you the money in a 
 minute if I had it, but country parsons 
 don't have such balances at their bankers' as 
 a rule."
 
 246 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 "My dear uncle, you couldn't think I 
 meant that," interrupted Jim. "I always 
 bring my scrapes to you, but I don't want 
 anything more than to unburthen my mind. 
 I daresay I shall raise what I require without 
 paying unreasonably for it." 
 
 " No doubt ; in the meanwhile, lunch is 
 the thing we stand at present most in need 
 of. I've a Broadshire appetite, man, and 
 unless sport denies me opportunity, can 
 always ply knife and fork with a A^engeance 
 at this time. Sport or food when the clock 
 chimes two, that's my maxim." 
 
 " How are you, Kobert ?" exclaimed the 
 Dowager, as she rose to receive her burly 
 son s kiss. " I was expecting you, and 
 thought I might reckon on your fondness 
 for the flesh-pots. Where did you find 
 Jim ? Anyhow, I'm very pleased you did 
 find him," she continued, as she greeted 
 her grandson ; " and now, come along, 
 luncheon I know is ready. Letty has 
 gone to have hers with the Desboroughs ;
 
 247 
 
 they are great friends of hers, as you may 
 have heard." 
 
 "You look well, mother," said the Eector, 
 as he helped himself to some cutlets. " You 
 seem determined as ever to bid defiance to 
 time. Upon my word, Jim, my mother 
 looks younger than yours ; now does she 
 not?" 
 
 "There is a pretty compliment for a 
 countryman," laughed the Dowager. " No 
 wonder young ladies are fascinated by the 
 cloth, when even bluff country clergymen 
 like Eobert are so silken-tongued. How 
 does the parish go on ? Which are the 
 most aggravating just now, the poachers 
 spiritual or the poachers material ?" 
 
 " How dare you make jest of my 
 parochial troubles ? However, the Spurgeon- 
 ites make but little way with us. We are 
 orthodox to the backbone, as a rule, in 
 Einostone ; believing much in short sermons, 
 Christmas waits, and substantial help from 
 both Abbey and Eectory in time of trouble.
 
 248 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 A somewhat material belief, my mother, but 
 very antithetical to spiritual conversion." 
 
 "And the fleshly poacher, the carnal 
 man of snares and night practices ? " in- 
 quired the old lady, her eyes twinkling 
 with fun. 
 
 " I regret to admit that I happened to 
 encounter two of those malignants but a 
 week since, egging, and the result has been 
 that two of the most incarnate poachers in 
 the parish are likely to be in most excellent 
 condition for harvesting, having withdrawn 
 into temporary retirement on a strict and 
 regular diet." 
 
 " What is this I hear about your father, 
 Jim ? Letty tells me he is moping ; giving 
 up hunting, shooting, &c. I meant to have 
 asked you before, but forgot it, and you 
 don't come here so often as you ought, you 
 know." 
 
 The hussar was conscious of shortcomings 
 in that respect. He had called more than 
 once, but he knew his grandmother, though
 
 cc „^,_ r¥1T ^, T . r ,^ ri , » 
 
 SETTLEMENT. 249 
 
 not unreasonable, did like attention from 
 those she was fond of, and that he stood 
 high in her good graces he was perfectly 
 aware. It was with some slight hesitation 
 that, ignoring the final attack, he replied 
 that his father had not been well that winter, 
 and was forced to take care of himself. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it. I was in hopes 
 it was only one of Banclolph's whimsies. He 
 has crotchets at times, and some years back 
 took it in his head that his heart or his 
 lungs were affected, I forget which ; but I 
 know it turned out to be only his energy. 
 Who's he under ? " 
 
 " Fergusson," replied Jim, curtly. 
 
 "And now," said the old lady sharply, 
 " what's the matter with you ? You look 
 as if you'd got into a scrape of some kind. 
 What mischief has he got into, Eobert ? 
 Fallen in love with someone he ought not, 
 or has he been completing that expensive 
 bit of literary work, a Derby book ? Is the 
 cause of his woe feminine or equine —
 
 250 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 woman with an adamant heart, or a horse 
 with an indifferent leg ? " 
 
 Jim sat speechless under his grandmother's 
 badinage for a moment, and then replied : 
 " Nothing much ; I'm in a bit of a hole, but 
 I shall scrape through without any great 
 damage to myself." 
 
 The Dowager made no reply, but looked 
 inquiringly at her son. 
 
 " No great harm done," replied the Eector. 
 " Jim's had a row with his father about 
 money matters. He's been hit a little at 
 play." 
 
 " Hold hard, Uncle Eobert ! that'll do. I 
 didn't come here to bother grandmamma 
 with my difficulty." 
 
 " And I should like to know, after your 
 own parents, to whom you would come ? " 
 interposed Lady Hawksbury, with a slight 
 shrug of her shoulders and elevation of the 
 eyebrows. " I don't approve of play, mind, 
 because it so often means ruin, but I'm not 
 scared at the idea of it either. It was the
 
 " SETTLEMENT." 25' 
 
 fashion of my young days ; all gentlemen 
 played then." 
 
 k < Well," exclaimed the Rector, " I don't 
 think the fashion has altered very much ; it's 
 a pleasant little vice, that seems to run 
 through all time and all countries. Jim has 
 lost his money, wishes to pay up and stop. 
 It's not a very big thing, but Randolph 
 refuses to pay it for him. Of course he will 
 have to borrow it somewhere." 
 
 " Of course he must. How much is it ? " 
 inquired the Dowager. 
 
 " Five hundred," replied the Hector. 
 
 '•'Very good, Jim ; I shall find it for you 
 — as a loan, mind. You go down and see 
 my solicitors after luncheon. I will give 
 you a note to them, and they will let you 
 have the money to-morrow, I've no doubt." 
 
 "My dear grandmother," exclaimed Jim, 
 " this is most kind of you, but I don't think 
 I ought to take advantage of it." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! Do as you're told, sir/' 
 returned the Dowager gaily. " You think
 
 252 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 your grandmother an innocent. Wait till 
 you see. You will have to pay interest, 
 mind, and now I'll confess what an avaricious 
 old woman I am." She paused for a moment, 
 and, with a comical expression in her face, 
 said : " I couldn't bear the idea of all that 
 heavy interest going out of the family/' and, 
 throwing herself back into her chair, Lady 
 Hawksbury indulged in a hearty peal of 
 laughter at her own joke. 
 
 Her ladyship was as good as her word. 
 No sooner had they regained the drawing- 
 room than she sat down to her davenport 
 and wrote a note. Handing this to Jim, she 
 bade him be off to her man of business with 
 it at once, saying : " You will catch them 
 before closing if you take a cab. I know r 
 these things ought to be settled promptly. I 
 won't say don't play again, but I would have 
 you let high play alone for the future. 
 Good-bye. No, never mind thanking me. 
 You haven't time and I don't like it. I 
 know very well you're what you call awfully
 
 " SETTLEMENT. " 253 
 
 obliged, and I feel what you call awfully 
 jolly. Now be off with you." 
 
 The Dowager had been in the London 
 world from her girlhood, and had learned to 
 view its follies and its vices with a lenient 
 eye. Somewhat of a pagan in regard to the 
 stricter moralities, perhaps, especially on the 
 point of charity towards one's neighbour, 
 when that neighbour was eminently distaste- 
 ful to her. She held the code of honour of 
 society in respect to gambling, and saw no 
 great harm in it as long as a man paid when 
 he lost — a point by no means deemed impera- 
 tive by the great gamblers east of Temple 
 Bar. 
 
 Jim's interview with Lady Hawksbury's 
 solicitors was perfectly satisfactory. He 
 was told that the money should be at his 
 disposal next day, and departed by the 
 evening train for Aldershot in a tranquil 
 frame of mind, and with the determination 
 to wind up matters with Lydon on the 
 morrow. That he had come to this resolve
 
 254 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 through Clarisse's influence principally he 
 made no disguise himself. He would have 
 done it a little later, indeed must have 
 done it a little later, as he knew full well, 
 since Lyd oil's departure would have made 
 it imperative ; but it pleased him to think 
 that he should do it at her bidding. He 
 pictured to himself a sweet smile of ap- 
 proval when he told her that the ecarte was 
 all ended, and of late Jim had grown 
 strangely solicitous about Miss Ly don's 
 opinion. Courteous to women he in- 
 variably was, but he had troubled himself 
 very little as to how they regarded him so 
 far, and yet, as I said before, it was not 
 that he had encountered chilly reception at 
 their hands. A good-looking young fellow, 
 with Jim Hawksbury's breeding and pros- 
 pects, was scarce likely to meet that. 
 
 He started next day for Grove Terrace, 
 with a goodly roll of notes in his pocket. 
 He had made up his mind that if Clarisse 
 should be at home he would ask to speak
 
 255 
 
 with her father in private ; he had no wish 
 that she should have any clearer idea than 
 that which at present possessed her of how 
 very expensive an acquaintance her father 
 had proved to him. She had fathomed the 
 fact that their play was high, and that he 
 was the loser ; but he judged rightly, she 
 had no suspicion of to such an extent. It 
 would seem, too, he knew, a far larger sum 
 in her eyes than it did in his own. Judging 
 by what he saw of the Lydon menage, it 
 would represent a year's income ; and Jim, 
 though dimly, comprehended that to be 
 that amount behind the world is source of 
 exquisite misery, discomfort, and struggling, 
 to those to whom it may occur. Clarisse 
 would understand that more readily than 
 the ease with which he had procured it ; 
 moreover, no power can diminish the im- 
 portance of such a sum as five hundred 
 pounds to people who are wont to live for 
 a twelvemonth upon it. 
 
 However, he was spared all diplomacy on
 
 256 SUNSHINE AXD SNOW. 
 
 this point, for the maid-servant informed 
 him that her mistress was out, but that he 
 would find master in the painting-room, 
 and thither Jim made his way. 
 
 " Ha, Hawksbury." exclaimed the artist. 
 " Charmed to see you. I am only too glad 
 to have an excuse to knock off work and 
 subside into talk and tobacco. Sit down 
 and have a cigar. Clarisse is out, but I 
 daresay on her return she will be able to 
 endorse my invitation, and promise you 
 that there is dinner of some kind." 
 
 " You are very good, but I must get back 
 to Aldershot to-night." 
 
 " My dear Hawksbury, excuse me. 
 My time here grows short, and the sooner 
 you exact your revenge at ecarte the better. 
 I should be very loath to stop as we are 
 now, though I'll own honestly, I wish we 
 had never commenced." 
 
 " That's just what it is," said Jim, slowly. 
 " It would, perhaps, have been better, and I 
 believe you when you say you are loath to
 
 " SETTLEMENT." 257 
 
 leave off as we stand just now, but my 
 mind's made up. I'll play no more, and have 
 come down on purpose to settle with you." 
 
 " Impossible ! we cannot leave off so. I 
 could not take what you owe me now, 
 though I don't know exactly what it is," 
 and here Ly don's usually somewhat sneer- 
 ing features were visibly agitated. 
 
 " I owe you four hundred and eighty- 
 seven," replied Jim, curtly, as he drew a 
 roll of notes from his pocket and proceeded 
 leisurely to count out the sum. 
 
 " You cannot suppose I would take that 
 amount from you" interposed the artist. 
 
 " Quite right," rejoined Jim, grimly, as 
 he went on with his counting. " I cer- 
 tainly didn't suppose it. Hoped it would 
 be the other way, you know." 
 
 " But I tell you, Mr. Hawksbury, I refuse 
 — ay, positively refuse to receive that 
 money," rejoined Lydon, springing to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Now what is the use of talking non- 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 sense," said Jim coolly. " 111 give in you 
 don't feel more cock-a-hoop about taking it 
 than I do about paying it. But you are 
 a man of the world. You know there is no 
 condoning of these sorts of debts. It's no 
 matter how it all came about. I've lost 
 and mast pay. You've won and must 
 receive. You may give it to hospitals, or 
 what you will, but you understand, there is 
 one man in the world you can't bestow it on 
 — myself." 
 
 " But stop. Try your luck once again," 
 cried Lydon ; " it must change." 
 
 " Not likely ; I've come to the limit of 
 my tether, and a man at the end of his rope 
 is always done. Besides," said Jim, con- 
 tinuing the numbering: of notes, " I've vowed 
 to play no more." 
 
 The artist walked the room impatiently 
 for a few minutes. 
 
 " Here you are," exclaimed Jim, "four 
 eighty-five in notes, and two sovereigns, 
 make us quits."
 
 li SETTLEMENT." 259 
 
 There was a prosaicness about the two 
 sovereigns — there is in most ordinary trans- 
 actions of life. It is that asking for change 
 that is so apt to explode those wild imagin- 
 ings of our brain. 
 
 " Confound your two sovereigns, and, by 
 G — d, sir, if you don't put those notes back 
 again into your pocket 111 pitch the lot into 
 the fire/' cried the artist, furiously. 
 
 Jim rose. " I should never have thought," 
 he said, " that you would lose your temper 
 over such a trifle, Mr. Lydon. AVhen you 
 tell me to take that money back you talk 
 nonsense, and you know it. Of course you 
 may pitch it into the fire if you like. I should 
 only suggest, throwing it into hospitals 
 might be more beneficial." 
 
 Although Clarisse Lydon, he was ready 
 to acknowledge, was much to him, though 
 for Clarisse's sake he would fain keep on 
 the best of terms with her father, yet Jim 
 Hawksbury was neither to be diverted from 
 the winding up of that e'carte business, nor
 
 260 SUNSHINE AND SNOW. 
 
 to be brought to the idea that it was 
 possible to bring it to any other conclusion. 
 Jim had plenty of clear common sense, and 
 a very accurate perception of the right and 
 wrong of his own world. He knew, of 
 course, Lydon's proposition was an absurdity. 
 A man who allows himself to be forgiven a 
 play debt loses caste in the estimation of his 
 compeers, ranking almost below the man 
 who fails to pay. 
 
 " Good-bye ! " exclaimed Jim, after a short 
 pause, during which the artist continued to 
 pace the room in an extremely excited 
 manner. " I shall hope to see you on 
 Friday, and shall perhaps petition for some 
 dinner." 
 
 Lydon stopped short in his walk. 
 
 " Good-bye, good-bye ! " he said. 
 
 " Friday ! " 
 
 " Yes, of course ; delighted to see you. 
 Once more good-bye !" and he gripped Jim's 
 hand with a fervour so unusual as to rather 
 astonish the hussar.
 
 C( ci-ommT-™r™Tm » 
 
 SETTLEMENT. 261 
 
 " Yes, Clarisse will be sorry to have 
 missed you. Good-bye ! " 
 
 " What the devil's the matter with him?" 
 mused Jim, as he walked leisurely west- 
 wards. " Brandy or opium couldn't have 
 made a greater mess of him than those four 
 hundred and eighty-seven pounds seem to 
 have done. Eeceiving money never bothered 
 me in that way." 
 
 Three days later, on the Friday afternoon, 
 when Jim Hawksbury went down to Grove 
 Terrace and inquired for Miss Lydon, the 
 servant-girl made answer that "they were 
 gone." 
 
 " Yes ; but not for good ? " said Jim, with 
 an easy smile of interrogation. 
 
 " I think so, sir ; they left for Liverpool," 
 replied the nymph of the bell-pull. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
 
 4