UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBAN/ nl ^PAIGN BOOK. JKS Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/fromposttofinish01smar FROM POST TO FINISH FROM POST TO FINISH % $tcwt. HAWLEY SMART, AUTHOB OF " BREEZIE LANGTON," " THE GREAT TONTINE," " AT FAULT. " HART) BINES," &C. &C. Looked as though the speed of thought Were in his limbs: but he was wild, Wild as the wild deer, aud untaught." IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL, I. LONDON— CHAPMAN and HALL LIMITED. 1884. (All righti reserved.) WESTMINSTER: PRINTED BY NICHOLS AND SONS, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET. £A3 5- 3\ THIS ROMANCE Is Betricatefc TO GEORGE MEREDITH, AT WHOSE SUGGESTION IT WAS WRITTEN. CONTENTS VOLUME I. CHAP. PAGE I. — " Phaeton's Leger " . 1 II.- — Dollie Greyson . 18 TIL- — Cranley Chase 34 IV. —Dollie at Home 52 V. — Death of the Squire . GS VI. — Riddleton Moor 85 VII.- —Sam Pearson, Solicitor . 103 VIII. — The Rev. Robert Thorndyke . 120 IX. — Sir Marmaduke Martindale . 134 X. — An Undergraduate of the Saddle . 150 XI. — The Ellistons at Home . 1GG XII. — A Clerical Tea-party . 183 XIII. — " He gave you that Ring" . 199 XIV. — Turf Tactics .... . 215 XV. — " The Two Trials " . . 243 XVI. — " The Two Thousand " , 261 FROM POST TO FINISH. CHAPTER I. ''phaeton's leger." The chains are up on Doncaster Town Moor, and, although the sun has not yet topped the horizon, through the dull grey of the early morning a knot of half-a- dozen people might have been discerned grouped around the famous winning-post. " You are sure you have made no mis- take, Grey son,' 7 said a tall, slight, satur- nine man of forty or thereabouts. " No, sir," replied the trainer. " I VOL. I. ./ 2 FROM POST TO FINISH. have measured them at home, I think, pretty correctly ; and you will find it as I tell you, that, though Caterham is the best of the pair, the other is about good enough to win this Leger with. But you will see for yourself in another minute. I can just catch the beat of their gallop ; they must have reached the Red House by this." The rapid thud of horses advancing at full speed was now distinctly audible ; a few seconds more, and four horses flashed past the winning-post ; the foremost with a three-quarters of a length lead. " It's as I told you, sir," exclaimed Greyson, the trainer. " Caterham' s won; but you can see he's not very much better than Phaeton. The old horse, too, is a good third ; and that shows you that the form is pretty true." " Oh, Lord ! what a coup" exclaimed a short, pursy little man, who was one of the spectators. " It ought to about make " phaeton's leger." all our fortunes. To think of having the first favourite for the Leger, and a second string in the stable good enough to win with." " It looks like good business, Sam, doesn't it ? To bet against Caterham and trickle our money on to Phaeton is our game for the next forty-eight hours. The only thing is, old man, that all this wants doing with a good deal of care. Remember, Caterham must remain first favourite till the fall of the flag, and therefore our hostile demonstration must not be too pronounced; while as for Phaeton, although we must back him to win a big stake, I want there to be pretty liberal odds against him till the very last. " Beg pardon, sir," said the trainer; u but do you mean to give the Squire a hint of this? It's notorious, you know, that Mr. Rockingham has backed the favourite for a very large stake " " Let my cousin look to himself," re- B 2 4 FROM POST TO FINISH. plied Cuthbert Elliston, bitterly; "if he had stood to me last year I should have felt bound to give him a hint of the way things stand; as it is, let him take his chance with the public generally.'' " Take the horses home, Tom, as quietly as you can," said the trainer, as the four competitors in the trial walked up to him. "It was about all out of Caterham, I suppose ?" " Yes, Mr. Grey son. I'd nothing much in hand; 'twas just about as much as I could do to get rid of Phaeton at the finish ; and, what is more, I fancy he stays just a bit the best of the two." A very nice trio were the three men who, the trial over, walked back from the Town Moor to breakfast at the Salutation that Monday morning before the Leger. Cuthbert Elliston, the first cousin of Alister Rockingham, lord of Cranley Chase, was about as evil a specimen of a gentleman blackleg as it was possible to " PHAETON S LEGER. 5 encounter. It was the old story ; a man of moderate means, he had gambled fiercely and wildly, and the pigeon of early days was now transformed into the unmistakeable rook. All feeling of honour was dead in the man's nature, and either in the tactics of the turf or the card- table there was very little that he would shrink from. He might hesitate about concealing the king up his sleeve at ecarte, but he would have had no scruples about pursuing that game with an an- tagonist half -bemused by wine. Similarly on the turf ; as long as he escaped the jurisdiction of the Jockey Club he was utterly unprincipled in his proceedings. He and Mr. Sam Pearson, attorney-at-law, were the joint proprietors of a few horses, and trained at William Greyson's, a clever man in his profession, but with a somewhat shady reputation. As it so happened they were this year joint pro- prietors of a colt called Caterham, which, 6 FKOM POST TO FINISH. having won the Two Thousand and finished third for the Derby, was, owing to the going amiss of one of his Epsom conquerors, and the non-entrance of the other in the Doncaster race, now first favourite for the Leger. And that the British public were likely to have an ex- tremely bad race of it the trial we have seen and the conversation we have over- heard pretty clearly indicates. Arrived at the Salutation, the three sat down to a regular Yorkshire breakfast, a thing which, an you are a breakfast eater, is by no means to be despised, and over the broiled ham and game pie as delect- able a robbery as was ever concocted at Doncaster — and this, by the way, is say- ing no little, was planned. * * * # It is the day of the great race, and the crowd are pouring up the avenue that leads to the famous Moor, upon which for more than a century the Blue Ribbon of " phaeton's leger = " the North has been decided. The street- preachers shriek forth their vehement denunciations side by side with the three card-men hoarsely vociferating that you do not name the Queen of Clubs for " a croon." The quiet Yorkshire town is in that furious state of ferment that only occurs to it once a year, w T hen train after train disgorges its hundreds all ravenous for food, drink, and a bet on the Leger. Caterham would win. How could there be any doubt of it ? He had beaten everything that was going to oppose him, with the exception of some two or three dark colts, of which little was expected. If ever there was a race upon which it seemed really judicious to back the favourite this was it. And yet the per- tinacity with which the ring fielded was wondrous strange. " There's as much seven to four going as ever you please to write down,'' said a veteran sportsman. " I don't understand 8 FROM POST TO FINISH. it, Rockingham. I can't help thinking there's a screw loose. The ring would hardly field like this unless they knew something. Going by public form, it ought to be two to one on Caterham. I can't, for the life of me, see what the bookmakers are going for ! They are like sheep, we all know, and only let three or four of the magnates of the mystic circle make up their minds to bet heavily against a horse and the smaller fry fol- low suit with wonderful rapidity. This outsider, Phaeton, who is in the same stable as the favourite, is nibbled at a good deal. I saw some cleverish men backing him last night, and again this morning. I tell you what it is, Rocking- ham, I shall just go and take the odds about him to save myself. Like you, I stand pretty heavily on the favourite, and don't fancy being spilt when they're winning with their second string ! " " Nonsense, Archcliffe ; it's little likely " PHAETON S LEGER." 9 that they have got anything better than the winner of the Guineas in their stable. No ! if Bill Greyson takes the Leger it will be with Caterham. I am standing him a raker, and I mean standing him out." A tall, good-looking man is Alister Rockingham. Although he is turned of fifty, and his hair is shot with silver, he is a handsome man still ; but his face is haggard and careworn, and his lips twitch slightly as he thinks how heavy the stake is that Caterham carries for him. A more unblenching gambler than Alister Rockingham never cut card or rattled die, but he cannot help twinges of remorse at times when he remembers the broad, unencumbered acres that came to him at twenty-one, and reflects how wofully mortgaged his son will find them when he in his turn shall succeed. Ah ! would he succeed ? It was almost a question, and the next hour would mate- rially assist in solving that riddle. 10 FROM POST TO FINISH. There was quite a little knot of spec- tators to see the favourite make his toilet for the great race. A right good-looking one, apparently as fit as hands could make him. Few troubled themselves to look at his stable-companion, although Phaeton would not have been pronounced a bad-looking colt had Caterham been out of the way. "I suppose the colt is all right, Grey- son?" observed Cuthbert Elliston, mean- ingly. iC Quite so, sir/' replied the trainer; " and Phaeton did such a good gallop yesterday morning that he is quite worth backing for a trifle on the off-chance.'' The roar of the blatant bookmakers waxes more and more furious as three o'clock approaches, and the starters for the Leger pace slowly in Indian file past the Grand Stand. A few minutes more, and turning round they come thundering back in their preliminary canter. No- 11 thing moves better than the favourite, and many an onlooker dashes back into the ring to make a modest investment on Caterham. At last the roar of the ring is hushed, and all heads are craned for- ward to gaze upon that gaudy little knot of silken jackets that are congregated at the foot of the slight incline that marks the commencement of the great Doncaster race. Two or three breaks-away, and then the fourteen runners for the St. Leger are despatched, and the dark-blue jacket of Phaeton is almost immediately seen in the van. " Making running for his stable-com- panion!" exclaim the multitude. " Strangling the lot," murmured Cuth- bert Elliston to his partner, Sam Pearson. " Old Greyson would never put the double upon us." " No, it's right enough, you may de- pend upon it. If Phaeton don't win it, it'll be because he's not quite good 12 FROM POST TO FINISH. enough ; but anyhow you may rest as- sured that whatever does win it won't be Caterham. I've seen to that myself." All along the far side, down away past the Rifle Butts, the dark-blue jacket leads the field a cracker. Still the backers of the favourite have no cause as yet to feel uncomfortable. He bears his straw ban- ner bravely in front of the ruck, and now they come thundering round the Red House turn. The dark-blue jacket holds a clear three-lengths lead as they come into the straight, and suddenly arises that fatal shout which has made many a backer shiver ere now. " The favourite's beat ! — the favourite's out of it;" and through his glasses Alister Rockingham can see that the wearer of the straw-coloured jacket is already hard upon his horse in the endeavour to keep his place. They are racing in real ear- nest now, and a very few strides more sees Caterham completely done with. "phaeton's leger." 13 One, two, three horses emerge from the ruck, and one after the other strives to get up to the leader; but the blue jacket stalls off each successive challenge, and finally glides past the winning-post half- a-length to the good. "Phaeton has won the St. Leger, while the favourite was not even amongst the first four. " By Jove! what a coup" exclaimed Cuthbert Elliston, as he slapped his turf partner on the shoulder. "Yes," replied Pearson, who was al- ready running his eye rapidly over his betting-book; "but I'll tell you what: it's my impression, Elliston — it's my im- pression this will about finish your cousin. How deeply he's involved no one can know better than myself. I've had to manage the raising of the sinews of war, as you know, for some years now ; but I fancy that I've never had a more trouble- U FROM POST TO FINISH. some job than I shall have to find the money for next Monday." "Bah!" rejoined Elliston ; "he has a couple of days yet to get home in." "Get home!" returned the attorney with a sneer ; " you and I know what that means. How often does any one get out of the scrape that way ? while the ease with which one's liabilities are doubled is simply miraculous." It was with a weary smile that Alister Rockingham dropped his race-glasses back into their case. He was a good loser, and might have sardonically exclaimed, — " If I am not, I wonder who should be. I've been practising it steadily for the last thirty years, and, if I stop now, it's simply because there's nothing left to lose." No one but himself knew how terribly hard hit he was by the race just won. Plenty of his friends knew that he had backed Caterham heavily ; but even Sam Pearson, his solicitor, had no idea " phaeton's leger." 1 5 what a tremendous plunge he had made upon this race with a view to recovering his losses on a most disastrous season. Had he known the extent to which his client was involved, it is more than pro- bable that, despite his partner, Pearson would have given the Squire of Cranley Chase a hint about Phaeton ; but, though the solicitor could take his own line very fairly, there was a savage concentration about Cuthbert Elliston that made men rather shy of quarrelling with him. He had taken causeless umbrage at Alister Rockingham's refusal to help him pecu- niarily a twelvemonth ago ; but, in good truth, Rockingham had no money to spare, and was almost as hard pressed as his cousin. As Rockingham descended from the stand, a slight, handsome, dark-eyed youth dashed up to him, with a face brimming over with pleasure and excite- ment, and exclaimed : — 16 FROM POST TO FINISH. "What a ripping race it was, father, wasn't it ? And only think, I have won twenty-eight sovereigns over it, and got it." u Why, where did you get your inspi- ration, Gerald?" "Well, mine came directly from old Joseph, our coachman ; but who on earth put him up to the fact of Phaeton being a good thing I really have no idea. I got twenty- eight pound to two from one of these ready-money men, and he booked up like a gentleman as soon as the race was over." I wonder if it is possible to imagine a grimmer contrast than this man who has just experienced Fortune's finishing blow affords to the bright-eyed Harrow boy who has just won his first stake over that most fascinating of all amusements, the backing of racehorses. Ruined Alister Rockingham was before Phaeton swept past the winning-post ; but even he him- 17 self as yet hardly realises what a thorough crash it is that has befallen him. It is the very acme of Fate. Here is young Gerald, who has just left Harrow, and is going up to Cambridge next month, exul- ting over the winning of twenty- eight sovereigns, with an inheritance of ten thousand a year departed from him on the same race. VOL. I. 18 CHAPTER II. DOLLIE GEEYSON. In Coney Street, York, dwelt a pro- sperous haberdasher of the name of Grey- son. He was a man excessively popular, not only in York itself but with all the country families round about the city. Gloves, shirts, neckties, all the gentlemen of the district vowed could be obtained at no other place than Greyson's. Thomas Grey son did a roaring trade, and was a warm man in his vocation. He was brother to that William Grey son, the trainer, who had prepared Caterham and Phaeton for the Leger, Though excellent friends the brothers met but seldom, — their paths in life diverged widely ; but DOLLIE GREYSON. 19 constantly through the shop in Coney Street flitted a fair-haired little maiden, who answered to the name of Dollie, and who was the daughter of William Grey son. It was not in the least that she was an apprentice in her uncle's shop ; what ser- vice she chose to give there she did. When time ran heavy, and she got a little tired of her own society, then Dollie would flit into the shop, and take her turn in selling gloves over the counter; and it was notable that when Miss Grey son did take this business in hand the young bloods of York were apt to be rather lavish in their orders with regard to gloves and neckties. Dollie Greyson was staying with her uncle mainly for this reason : masters were attainable at York, which, of course, was not the case on Riddleton Moor, and, in spite of a somewhat questionable turf career, Bill Greyson loved his daughter very, very dearly, and was anxious, to use his own expression, that she should have c 2 18 CHAPTER II. DOLLIE GREYSON. In Coney Street, York, dwelt a pro- sperous haberdasher of the name of Grey- son. He was a man excessively popular, not only in York itself but with all the country families round about the city. Gloves, shirts, neckties, all the gentlemen of the district vowed could be obtained at no other place than Greyson's. Thomas Greyson did a roaring trade, and was a warm man in his vocation. He was brother to that William Greyson, the trainer, who had prepared Caterham and Phaeton for the Leger. Though excellent friends the brothers met but seldom, — their paths in life diverged widely ; but DOLLIE GREYSON. 19 constantly through the shop in Coney Street flitted a fair-haired little maiden, who answered to the name of Dollie, and who was the daughter of William Grey son. It was not in the least that she was an apprentice in her uncle's shop ; what ser- vice she chose to give there she did. When time ran heavy, and she got a little tired of her own society, then Dollie would flit into the shop, and take her turn in selling gloves over the counter; and it was notable that when Miss Grey son did take this business in hand the young bloods of York were apt to be rather lavish in their orders with regard to gloves and neckties. Dollie Greyson was staying with her uncle mainly for this reason : masters were attainable at York, which, of course, was not the case on Riddleton Moor, and, in spite of a somewhat questionable turf career, Bill Greyson loved his daughter very, very dearly, and was anxious, to use his own expression, that she should have c2 20 FROM POST TO FINISH. the advantage of " the very best training " money could give her. A slight, auburn-haired girl, just turned seventeen, Dollie Grey son was no more ignorant of her own attractions than her sisterhood generally. She knew that she was pretty, and she knew that she was nice, and that gentlemen rather appre- ciated having their gloves fitted by her ; but of all her admirers there was, perhaps, none Dollie liked so well as young Gerald Rockingham, the heir of Cranley Chase. A perfectly boy-and-girl love if you like, but schoolboys and schoolgirls, too, for the matter of that, catch the complaint, though not quite so sharply as their elders. From her antecedents it may easily be believed that Miss Greyson could ride, as they say, " above a bit." She had, in fact, lived in the saddle almost from child- hood, and had been accustomed at home to ride all sorts of awkward animals. If there was one thing old Bill Greyson was DOLLIE GREYSON. 21 proud of it was his daughter's witching horsemanship. He never seemed to recog- nise any danger to her on whatever he might put her, and was wont to say, when one of his charges turned awkward with the boys, " We'll just hand him over to Dollie for a month. He'll be quiet enough by that time, I'll warrant." We all know what the delicate hand of an accomplished horsewoman can make of a horse, and it really was marvellous how many of these unruly youngsters Dolly Greyson had suc- ceeded in teaching manners to. Now if there was one thing Miss Greyson missed in York it was her accustomed horse - exercise. Her uncle kept no horseflesh of any description, and the few opportunities she had had of indulging her taste in that line had been through Gerald Rocking- ham. Gerald had more than once either hired or borrowed a horse, and taken the girl out for a day with the York, and Ainstey, and the wild excitement of those 24 FROM POST TO FINISH. a good race of it, and what with drinking old Bill's health and Phaeton's, I'm a little foggy yet as to where we've got in the week." " Mighty glad to hear it, Mr. Crofton. My brother, like yourself, had, I fancy, a pretty good race of it. At all events, he's given the girl there a pretty smart dress. Look at the little peacock fluttering her plumes around, and prinking herself out for the benefit of that young Rockingham. They do say," continued Mr. Greyson, in a low whisper, ' i that the Squire's dropped a power of brass over the race. In fact, they say there's no such heavy loser at Doncaster this year as him." a Aye, I've heard as mooch, and sorry I was to hear it, too. He's one of the reat soort is the Squire. A real good and straight sportsman, but he's always been a terrible bould bettor. It won't be the fust time he's burnt his fingers by many, I reckon." DOLLIE GREYSON. 25 Thomas Greyson shook his head in mute reply as he turned away to attend to another customer's account. It must not be supposed from her uncle's remark that Dollie Greyson was a smartly- dressed coquettish shop-girl. Trim and prettily attired she always was, and quiet and modest in her manner as if born a lady ; very self-possessed ; and if the girl smiled at the gallant speeches occasionally made her, no one of Tom Greyson's cus- tomers would ever have thought of over- stepping the Rubicon with his niece. She was, men felt intuitively, not a young woman to ialk slang to. Although only a trainer's daughter, well as she rode, and brought up much as she had been amongst horses, yet no one ever heard Dollie talk " horse," and in that one particular alone she was immensely in advance of maidens of far higher station than herself. If some of these damsels only knew the rubbish they do talk on that subject, and how 26 FROM POST TO FINISH. they bore us, surely they would be more merciful. A pretty golden-haired little girl, with the neatest of figures, tiniest of hands and feet, and longest of eyelashes, Dollie Grey- son, as she stands at the counter, nomi- nally turning over gloves for his inspec- tion, but in reality chattering with Gerald Rockingham, by no means warrants the epithet of 6i little peacock " which her uncle has applied to her. She is attired in a soft grey serge, trimmed with braid to match, with snowy collar and cuffs. William Greyson, who loved his daughter better than anything in this world, had sent her, not a dress, but a ?ery pretty cheque, " to buy fal-lals for herself," as he expressed it, wisely concluding that a girl's millinery was a little beyond his comprehension ; though the old trainer was wont to asseverate, " I don't know how it's done ; but, blame me, I do know whether they're turned out all right when DOLLIE GREYSON. 27 I see 'em, and mean my girl to look as fit as any of 'em, I tell you." Gerald is telling Miss Greyson all about the race, and relating with all a schoolboy's glee how he won twenty- eight pounds over Phaeton, and finally he produces from his pocket a little morocco case, and, handing it across the counter, says in a low voice : — " You must wear that, Dollie, just to remind you of me and the cheery gallops we have had together." " Oh, how lovely!'' exclaimed the girl as she opened the case, drew from it a pretty diamond and emerald half -hoop ring, and slipped it on her finger. a How good of you, Gerald ; but what nonsense to think I should want anything to remind me of you. Is it likely ? " " I hope not. Say it's to remind you of Phaeton's Leger. Say it's an c engaged 9 ring, if you like.'' 28 FROM POST TO FINISH. " If you talk like that, Gerald, I won't keep it," returned Dollie, her face flushing slightly and speaking seriously. "I like you very much, am very fond of you ; but don't think I forget that you are a Rock- ingham, of Cranley Chase, while I am," and here she gave a significant little shrug of her shoulders, (i the daughter of William Greyson, the trainer. Don't speak, Gerald, for a moment," she con- tinued. u I'm just as fond and proud of my father as you can be of yours ; but anything of that sort between us would be ridiculous. Good comrades ever, firm friends, if you will, dear Gerald ; but not that last. Say it is so, or take back your ring." " You're making too much fuss about it, Dollie," he replied ; "it will be so some of these days all the same. You are as much a lady as any of the girls I meet in society, and much jollier. Never mind DOLLIE GREYSON. 29 now, call the ring a remembrance of Phaeton ; but think a little of me when you look at it." " I shall do that, Gerald, without look- ing at it. When do you go to Cam- bridge ? " " In about three weeks. It's a short term, thank goodness ! for I fancy Uni- versity life is pretty dull at starting. You don't know many fellows, and one don't know the ropes ; however, I believe it's all jolly good fun after a bit." u But, Gerald, surely your people ex- pect you to work a bit to try to take a degree, or something of that kind; t houghl don't quite understand what that means " " Nonsense, Dollie; fellows like me are not expected to go in for that sort of thing. We go up for a couple of years, just to make acquaintances and to be able to say we've been there. The dear old governor would be knocked into heaps at 30 FROM POST TO FINISH. my taking a degree. He wouldn't mind it, you know ; but he'd be awfully as- tonished. Phaeton's winning last Wed- nesday would be nothing to such a surprise as that." " I thought it was what you were sent there to do," replied Dollie, simply. " I fancied you went to Cambridge to learn just as I came to York, only I fancied they tested you to see if you knew things, which they mercifully don't inflict on me. I do my best, but should have grievous fears of failure if tried." " No, book-learning was never the forte of our family. We only pride ourselves upon some very minor virtues. We are brought up to shoot straight, ride straight, and run straight. You know what I mean by the latter, Dollie. We stick to our friends and our word." Miss Greyson was too country-bred a girl not to hold the first two of these virtues in considerable esteem, and she DOLLIE GREYSON. 31 had seen with her own eyes that Gerald spoke truth about the riding, while as for "the running straight," I think the most shifty, scheming, and mendacious of our fellows have a certain admiration for a man who does that. " Yes, Gerald," she said, softly; "no- body in these parts ever doubts a Rock- ingham, but for all that I think you ought to work at Cambridge." 6k You'd make a charming tutor, Dollie/' he replied, laughing, " and perhaps under your auspices I might. Byron, I remem- ber, somewhere advocates female teachers. Shall I find you here when I come back in December? " " No ; they'll want me home for Christ- mas. Father would be very much put out if I wasn't there at that time.'' " And your mother, too, I suppose?" "Well," replied the girl, laughing, " she'll be glad to have me back, no doubt, but she don't think half as much 32 FROM POST TO FINISH. of me as father. He never says a cross word to me, but mother can give me a bit of her mind when I don't please her. In short,'' continued Dollie, merrily, " father pets and spoils me, and mother does her best to counteract it." " Then I shan't see you for ever so long ? " said Gerald, somewhat moodily. " Oh, yes you will. I shall be back in January time. You will have plenty of opportunities to take me for a gallop or two with the hounds, if your Highness will condescend to be kind as of yore. And now, Gerald, you really must run away. If every young man was as long buying his gloves as you have been, the business of this establishment would never be carried on. Good bye," she concluded, extending a tiny hand, "and thank you so much for the ring." Gerald shook hands, and then walked moodily off to the Black Swan in search of his hack. He was getting very much DOLLIE GREYSON. 33 in love with Dollie Greyson, which was more than that young lady at present was with him. She liked him very much, was fond of him in a sort of half- sisterly fashion ; but a girl of seventeen is years older in reality than a youth a few months older than herself; and this was just Dollie's case. She was not a bit in love with Gerald, and saw quite clearly it would be ridiculous on her part ever to be so. She recognised quite clearly the great difference of their stations in life, and knew that she could never be his wife. A bright, quick-witted, warm- hearted, impetuous little lady, but with plenty of sound, practical common-sense. She may display plenty of romance and imagination later on should her affections be touched, but at present, despite her impetuosity, Dollie is a clear-sighted girl. VOL. 34 CHAPTER III. CRANLEY CHASE. There were few more picturesque old mansions in the Valley of the Ouse than Cranley Chase, the seat of the Rocking- hams. They had not come in with the Conquest, or acquired their lands in the spoliation of the monasteries under Henry VIII. ; their presence in Yorkshire was of later date, and somewhat more prosaic in its cause. The first of the family that had appeared at Cranley was one of Marl- borough's favourite lieutenants, who had received his humble share of the honours and wealth that accrued to his great com- mander. The founder of the Churchills, it is true, was not wont to let money CRANLEY CHASE. 35 trickle through his fingers for the benefit of his subordinates ; but Colonel Rocking- ham thought he could not better show his admiration for his great chief than by closely imitating him. Like his principal, he was reckless in battle and ruthless in plunder. But his great stroke of good fortune was when, thanks to his handsome person and the influence of his patron, he succeeded in winning the hand of pretty Mistress Hazelby, the great Yorkshire heiress. She brought to Colonel Rock- ingham Cranley Chase and many fat acres in the Valley of the Ouse ; and when, the wars over, the Colonel settled comfortably down as a Yorkshire Squire, he was soon intimate with all the gentlemen of the country side. The Chase, which stands about five miles from York, a little to the right of the Great North Road, is an old Eliza- bethan red-brick house, a perfect incon- gruous mass of wings and gables. A d2 36 FROM POST TO FINISH. fairly big house apparently to start with, to which each succeeding Rockingham felt it incumbent on himself to add a wing. It stood in a fine old park of some two-fifty or three hundred acres, studded with old oak and elm. That the greater part was as draughty and uncomfortable as all such fine old family seats invariably are need scarcely be mentioned ; but the modernised wing, chiefly inhabited by the family when they were alone, was exceedingly comfortable. When Alister Rockingham entertained right royally, as he was wont to do for the York Races, the York Balls, and such-like occasions of festivity, then the old house was full from garret to cellar, and the latter, despite the fierce inroads made on it at such times, held bravely out. Cranley claret was proverbial, and Cranley port and Madeira pronounced by no means bad to take. On such occasions the big drawing - room and dining - room were CRANLEY CHASE. 37 thrown open, and, in taking his party up to the Knavesmire, Alister Rockingham was wont to be as regal as that traditional Nabob, who exclaimed, u Bring some more carriages." Still, before the Phaeton Leger it had been for some little time rumoured that Alister Rockingham was in trouble ; but the Squire kept a stiff upper lip, and abated not an iota of his accustomed hospitality, and people doubted whether there was any truth in these reports. It is possible to go on for some time after you are ruined if you conceal all symp- toms of the catastrophe, and for a man who has indubitably possessed property, and who is vaguely rumoured to have lost it, to be pronounced insolvent shows much indiscretion on his part. Poor Alister Rockingham ! there was something more than pecuniary troubles the matter with him. He had " lived his life," as it is called, — ay, every inch of 38 FROM POST TO FINISH. it. Had flung the dice at " The Rooms" in Doncaster boldly, as he had backed favourites on the Town Moor. He had lived a fast pace in London in the season ; had buttoned up his kid gloves tightly as he called for a fresh lot of blue counters in the Cocoa Tree on a Saturday night to try that last desperate expedient of a beau joueur, the redeeming a bad week at Epsom or Newmarket, by the throwing in half-a-dozen mains running. He might have said with perfect truth : — I have lived my life — I am nearly done, I have played the game all round ; But I freely admit that the best of my fun I owe it to horse and hound. It was not only, poor fellow, that his fortune was nearly spent, but Alister Eockingham felt that his life also was nearly spent. There are signs at certain periods of a man's existence when he feels intuitively that the clock is running CRANLEY CHASE. 39 rapidly down. There may be nothing radically the matter, but he realises the fact that the hour-glass will admit of little more turning ; and it was with a heavy heart that he drove home to Cranley Chase at the end of the week destined to be known in Doncaster annals hence- forth as Phaeton's Leger. It was a bitter feeling to the man as he swept up through the fine old park, and his eye ranged over the wide undulating grass land and gnarled old oaks, to know that it was all gone, and that when his will came to be read his son would find himself a beggar. But broad acres however numer- ous, or broad pieces however many, are speedily got through when a man takes to gambling in earnest. Alister Rocking- ham had no very great right to complain ; he had had a very fair innings, had some big strokes of luck certainly in the earlier part of his career; and, though things had gone against him latterly, it had 40 FROM POST TO FINISH. taken him twenty years to get through his inheritance. It was clone now, and the Squire of Cranley Chase recognised that Phaeton's Leger had finally ruined him. He had an awkward task before him, and he knew it. Wild he had been, gambler he had been, but no other woman had ever compared in his eyes to his wife Beatrice, and to a great extent she shared his confidence. She knew they were in difficulties; she knew things had been going badly with him of late, but she did not know how desperate his affairs were. She had done her best to dissuade him from going to Doncaster, knowing how costly such holidays had been of late, and he was painfully aware there would be much anxious questioning as to how he had fared in the fray. As he expected, Mrs. Rockingham met the Squire the minute he entered the hall. She knew CRANLEY CHASE. 41 the face too well not to understand that he brought no good news home. " I'm afraid, Alister, that it has been, as it always seems to be of late, an unfor- tunate time with you. But there is no need to speak about it now. You look fagged, and it will be quite time to tell me all about it, if you choose, after dinner, dear." She was a gentle-hearted, clever woman, and knew well that the male creature was wont to make confession of his diffi- culties in his post-prandial moments. Dinner over, the Squire, having finished a bottle of champagne, began to take a somewhat brighter view of his Doncaster reverses. He even half-persuaded him- self that things were by no means so bad as he had at first thought them. " Yes, Beatrice," he said, "it has been an awkward week. Who could think that old villain William Grey son rejoiced in the possession of two horses, either of 42 FROM POST TO FINISH. them good enough to win the Leger? I knew nothing about Phaeton, and backed Caterham, of course, as all the world did. I went from bad to worse all Thursday, and a plunge to get home on the Cup didn't mend matters." u It's unlucky, Alister, because I know money is scarce with us just now, and I hear that you have sent for Pearson, which is always an ominous sign. Still," she continued, with a faint smile, "it is no use crying over spilt milk, as I have heard you say so often ; but, Alister dear, if you could refrain from racing in future I think you would be a great deal hap- pier, and at all events you would please me so very much." "Well, Trixie, I think," rejoined Alister Rockingham, with a rather grim smile, " I may safely promise you that for the future you need have little fear of my giving up racing — it has given me up. As Rochefoucauld says, 'When our vices CRANLEY CHASE. 43 have left us, we flatter ourselves that tee have left them.' " At this moment the door opened, and in burst Gerald Rockingham, his bright, dark, handsome face glowing with high spirits. I don't know whether I have quite described Gerald. He took after his mother, who was one of those petite brunettes that tall fair-haired men of the Saxon stamp so delight in marrying. When Swedenborg wrote volumes to prove his Doctrine of the Affinities he might have condensed the whole thing into the one short sentence — that men and women are very apt to fall in love with their antithesis. Gerald was small and slight in stature, but for all that the boy had inherited all the hereditary pluck of his family, whether on battlefield or at card-table. He understood, to speak metaphorically, "how to die and make no sign." He was all wire and whipcord, and would have no more thought of flinch- 44 FROM POST TO FINISH. ing from the biggest fence of the York and Ainstey country than he would from standing up to a man of double his size who had insulted him. There had never been a Rockingham who couldn't both ride and shoot straight, and Gerald cer- tainly promised to prove no exception to the traditions of his race. u Oh, mother, darling ! " exclaimed the boy, as he threw his arms round her neck, a I begin to think there's nothing like racing. I don't know when I have had such a jolly time as I have had this week. I've won twenty-eight pounds, which wasn't so bad, you know, for a young one. It's the most glorious sport in the world — and isn't Bill Greyson clever ? Think of his having those two horses in the race, and selling the public all round by winning with the one they didn't believe in ! " A shiver ran over Mrs. Rockingham's face as she thought how her son was already developing a passion for a sport which had CKANLEY CHASE. 45 so sorely embittered her own life, while I am afraid Alister Rockingham with diffi- culty gulped down the execration that rose to his lips at this encomium on Bill Greyson's cleverness. " How was it you didn't come home with me, Gerald?" he inquired. "I looked for you at the station, but saw nothing of you." " No, father ; I left a little before you. I'm not a swell, like you, who waits for the Monday to gather his winnings — I got mine at once, and I wanted to stop in York to buy something for Dollie Grey- son. She is such a jolly girl, you know, and as it is her father to whom I'm vir- tually indebted for the money I thought it was the proper thing to do. She is staying with her uncle in Coney Street. V " Ah ! It's not so long ago," said Alister Rockingham, musingly, " since that dis- tinguished patron of the turf who notori- ously never bets wagered the famous six- 16 FROM POST TO FINISH. pence with his trainer's wife against his horse winning the Leger. He paid it set in a magnificent pearl and diamond brace- let, which always remained one of her proudest possessions. I'm curious to know what you gave your trainer's daughter ? '' " Why I gave her a ring, father, which took about half my money to buy, but then, you know, she's far away the pret- tiest girl in these parts, and rides as well as I do. Why you've seen her out hunting yourself ! " "Yes," replied his father, "I know Miss Greyson by sight. A pretty little thing, and, as you say, she can ride. But, Gerald, remember I want no nonsense either one way or the other between you and old Bill Grey son's daughter." " You can trust me, father," replied Gerald, proudly. " If you knew Dollie you would know she would not even come here as my wife without your consent and mother's." CKANLEY CHASE. 47 As Gerald continued to tell his mother the story of his week's doings, as was his habit, the Squire fell into a sombre reverie. His son's triumph recalled to him those days of his youth when fortune smiled on him whether he gambled for love or for money, and he winces sadly when he thinks what is to be Gerald's fate, whom he feels will have shortly to confront the world, not as he himself began it, but with a mere trifle of money at his back. At this moment the door opened, and Miss Rockingham (the Squire's only daugh- ter) quietly entered the room. It was somewhat curious, but Ellen Rockingham, who was some two or three years older than her brother, was utterly different to the rest of the family in all her tastes and pursuits. Dark in complexion, like her brother, and considerably taller, she regarded such things as hunting, shooting, and racing with disdain. She had already made up her mind that life was a thing to 48 FROM POST TO FINISH. be treated in earnest, and was that some- what unpleasant type — a young lady with a mission. She was convinced that the rich did not half do their duty by their poorer brethren. She meant well, poor young woman, but contrived to make life very bitter to some of the necessitous peasantry round Cranley. It is bad enough to have a difficulty about earning your bread, and comes terribly hard to a good many people in this world, but it is harder still to be told that the absence of the quartern loaf is owing to your own want of energy and thrift. Miss Rockingham was wont to be rather more lavish of rebuke than largesse, and the impe- cunious cottagers under the Cranley sceptre infinitely preferred the sight of the Squire's wife to that of the Squire's daughter. u Sorry, Ellen, that you weren't here to welcome me at dinner." " You know, father, it was school night, CRANLEY CHASE. 49 and that is a duty I am very loth to neglect." A parlous evening did some of these young rustics pass at times with Miss Rockingham. She had all the pluck and pride of her race, and was a rigid dis- ciplinarian. The Squire, to tell the truth, stood just a little in awe of his daughter. He was puzzled at times to understand how any daughter of his could have taken up these peculiar views. He would have about as soon thought of confiding his troubles or confessing his peccadillos to the clergyman of his parish as to Ellen. His son was too young, and if he only half whispered his troubles to his wife it was simply because he could not bear to pain her. (i I don't want to interfere with your views of right or wrong, Ellen," he re- joined a little sharply ; " but I think most girls, when their father had been away VOL. I. E 50 FROM POST TO FINISH. from home for ten days, would have been thereto welcome him home, and not allowed such rubbish as a ' night-school ' to inter- fere with their doing so." " I am sorry — very sorry," rejoined the girl, as she came over and kissed him ; w I would not have been out of the way for one moment if I had supposed you would have felt in that way about it. I try hard to do what I consider right. I have read and thought a good deal for myself, and I know I don't hold quite the same views as you and dear mother, but you surely know that I am in no way wanting in love for either of you ? If I have done wrong, forgive me." "Pooh! Nonsense, girl ! " rejoined the Squire, completely melted, as he kissed his daughter affectionately. " Don't say another word about it, but go and get your dinner at once." " Thanks, father, but I don't want any. I had some dinner at the Rectory." CRANLEY CHASE. 51 "Dinner at the Rectory! Child, absurd! They never dine there — they only eat! Go and do as I tell you." LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 52 CHAPTER IV. DOLLIE AT HOME. What they call a " Moor " down in the " West Countree " means a large expanse of open ground, plentifully sprinkled with gorse and heather ; what they call a moor in Scotland means pretty much the same thing, with rather less gorse and a good deal more heather ; but in Yorkshire they have moors, and moors, — the one corre- sponding to those of Scotland, the other more closely resembling the Downs of the Southern counties. Riddleton Moor was one of the latter description, and over its springy turf many a famous racehorse had been prepared for his engagement. DOLLIE AT HOME. 53 Standing on its edge was a many-gabled, comfortable-looking farmhouse, roomy un- doubtedly, neither tiled nor slated, but thatched in the old-fashioned way; but all kept as neat and trimly as it could possibly be. Some hardy creepers were trained about the walls, and interlaced themselves over the old-fashioned porch. A square garden laid in front of the place, the conspicuous feature of which was a large and old-fashioned grass plat, with a fine old oak tree in the centre. Won- drous handicap coups and manifold racing schemes had been talked over beneath the branches of that old oak. William Grey- son was accounted clever of fence in all matters of turf policy; but he had of late years achieved the distinction of being rather too astute in the management of horses. Like many a better man, he was suffering in a great measure for the sins of others. His principal employers were men whose only canon on the racecourse 54 FROM POST TO FINISH. was "make money," and who would have quite pooh-poohed the old rider of 11 honestly, if you can." Greyson had, of course, to carry out the instructions of his employers, and their views were simply that their horses should win or lose, simply as best suited their betting- books. It is only in puritanical human nature that the employed refuse to comply with the instructions of their employers. Greyson was no particular saint, he dropped quietly into the groove assigned to him, and thought he might just as well make money as Cuthbert Elliston and Sam Pearson, and the consequence was that the stable's reputation was now of the shadiest. A little past eight on a bright October morning, and Dollie, looking as fresh as a rose, emerges from the porch, walks to the garden-gate, and glances up the road leading to the Moor, to see if there are any signs of her father. She hadn't long DOLLIE AT HOME. 55 to wait before the slight, wiry frame of the trainer, astride of his pet cob, was seen making his way leisurely home. " It's a treat, Dollie, to have you back again, and find you waiting breakfast for me," said Greyson, as he reined his cob up at the gate for a moment. " Run in, child, and brew the tea ; for I'm as hungry as a hunter. I shall be in as soon as ever I've taken Blucher round to the stable." "All right, father," replied the girl; " breakfast will be ready all for you in ten minutes. I hope the work went on all satisfactorily ?" " Satisfactory ! " said Mr. Greyson, rather bitterly; "I think the Dancing Master will about break my heart. Here have I got the best horse in England, and I can't get a boy to sit on him ; but I'll tell you all about it when I come in, child." A real Yorkshire breakfast is a thing 56 FROM POST TO FINISH. to sit down to for those rejoicing in a healthy apppetite, and the table at Eiddleton Grange was very amply fur- nished. Dollie presided there in her mother's absence, for Mrs. Greyson was somewhat of an invalid, and rarely, when Dollie was at home to make the tea for her, came down stairs until the last possible moment. A few minutes, and William Greyson enters the room. A keen, shrewd face, clear grey eyes ; the look of a man, indeed, that a shrewd judge of physiognomy would hold you are not likely to get the better of ; and, unless report belied him, there were not many who had ever had the best of William Greyson. He walked up to the top of the table, kissed his daughter, and smoothed her bright golden tresses; for if there was one thing the trainer prized in this world it was his daughter. "And so, father, the Dancing Master has been tiresome this morning. Why, DOLLIE AT HOME. 57 that iron-grey colt is the handsomest you've got in training, or have had for a long while. You'll have to let me try my hand at him after all." " God forbid, child ! He got Joe Butters down this morning ; and you know I don't much like putting Joe up, on account of his weight, except in dire extremity ; he's rather too heavy." " Yes," replied Dollie, laughing; "you see he has such an excellent appetite." " Excellent appetite ! " replied her father querulously, as he proceeded to make short work of a dish of fried ham and eggs. " Ain't I always telling them that nothing about a racing-stable has a right to have an appetite but the horses ? As for the bipeds, they can't be too strict in their abstinence. Joe Butters is the victim of gluttony. Who can say what position he might have taken in his pro- fession if he could have put any restraint on himself? But, with his passion for 58 FROM POST TO FINISH. corned beef and old ale, no wonder he outgrew his opportunities." "But, father, you know Joe's a real good boy." " Of course he is," replied the trainer ; "but just think how much better he'd have been if he had been a couple of stone lighter." And as he spoke the trainer proceeded to help himself to some game pie. a And you really believe in the Danc- ing Master, father?" " Undoubtedly I do, as much as it is possible to believe in a colt with such a fiendish temper ? But you know what they are, Dollie ; there's no doing any- thing with women or horses when they exhibit uncontrollable temper." " Libel, father — rank libel. When women and horses prove uncontrollable, it is in nineteen cases out of twenty the result of ill-treatment. Take them pro- perly, and you can make them do any- DOLLIE AT HOME. 59 thing. I'd wager my best frock to a new hat that the Dancing Master and I get on together." " Nonsense, child," replied Greyson, sharply. " I've put you up on some awkward ones before now, and you can ride," he continued, proudly, " but I'm not going to risk your life on the back of the Dancing Master." " Never mind, father dear. I'm not preferring any request. We don't show to much advantage when we are kicked off ; and, in spite of my braggadocio, I should probably share the fate of the others. — Ah ! good morning, mother. We put the tea down by the fire to keep warm for you ; and now what shall I get you for breakfast ?" Mrs. Greyson, in sooth, was somewhat of a trial to her husband — it was not altogether her fault ; but continuous ill- health is wont to sour ordinary tempers, 60 FROM POST TO FINISH. and Mrs. Grey son was apt to be a little waspish in her remarks about things generally. She could not get about to see after things herself as she had done in days of yore, and, had she been allowed her way, would have kept Dollie at home as her vice-agent. But William Greyson was much too proud of his daughter to stand this sort of thing, and insisted that she should go into York and have the best " training " money could buy her. No man who is not a thorough autocrat is of much use at the head of a racing-stable, and William Greyson was not only that, but thoroughly master in his own house as well, and his wife was quite aware of the fact that when he really had made up his mind there was no disputing it. " The butter's not quite what it ought to be," said Mrs. Greyson, querulously. " Now you are at home, and not taking DOLLIE AT HOME. 61 lessons on the piano, or flirting about your uncle's shop, you might keep an eye on the dairy." "I don't think there's much fault to find," replied Dollie, cheerfully. u Jeanie knows her work well, and requires little supervision." " Don't you fret yourself, wife," said William Grey son. " You can't get about now to see after things, of course ; but you taught them all their work in the days you could so thoroughly that the domestic machine runs pretty smooth now." " Very good of you to say so, William ; but I can see plenty of shortcomings, though I can't get about to see after them now-a-days." Mrs. Greyson was a little hard on her husband, and even her friends, in this respect. She undoubtedly suffered from ill-health, and, after the manner of many invalids, she persistently dangled this 62 FROM POST TO FINISH. fact before their eyes as if it were a virtue. Under the tree in front of the house in the meantime might have been observed in conversation the offending Jeanie and Joe Butters, the head lad of Grey son's stables, a short, sturdily-built man of seven or eight-and-twenty. " Jeanie, my dear," he observed, " you look uncommon nice, you do, this morn- ing. You're as plump as a partridge, and that's a real virtue in your sex, while for us men, especially when we have to do with racing, it becomes quite criminal." " Well, Mr. Butters, you know you're not near as stout as you were. It's very odd that we should take such different views of things. You say that you don't like a girl to be too thin, but mercy on us, I live in perpetual fright of losing my waist. But you look tired. Suppose you come into the dairy, and I'll give you a glass of fresh milk." DOLLIE AT HOME. 63 " There now, that's just where it is ; if there's one thing I should like it would be a draught of fresh milk, and to ascer- tain exactly how far it is round that waist of yours, but, bless you, milk means blub- ber, and when you give up your mind to horses you can't afford that sort of thing. Tired indeed! I should rather think I was. That grey brute has put me down once, ran away with me twice, and blessed near pulled my arms out this morning. A nice article to keep on the premises, he is. I wish he'd kill somebody at once, and have done with it." "Oh, lor, Mr. Butters! Don't talk in that way. Why you know it would be more likely to be you than anybody else. Of course they hand him over to you be- cause, as we all know, you're the best rider in the stables." u Well, my dear," said Butters, in the most patronising way, " I know I'm not 64 FROM POST TO FINISH. so dusty, and if it wasn't for my disgust- ing weight I'd pretty soon let 'em see at Newmarket what I can do — but that Dancing Master — oh, Lord. Come in, Jeanie, and get me a mug of ale." Joe Butters, having given up his weight as a problem utterly beyond his own con- trol, confined himself now simply to severe abstinence from such saccharine matter as he had no particular craving for. Milk in the morning was a thing that Mr. Butters admired from a very abstract point of view; he took much credit to himself for his abstention in such little things, but before he strolled off to his own quarters I'm afraid there were two or three little matters that he had solved thoroughly to his own mind — namely, that the Biddleton Grange ale had not deteriorated, and that it was quite possible to get his arm comfortably round Jeanie' s waist. DOLLIE AT HOME. 65 " Dollie ! " suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Greyson, " may I ask how you came by such a ring as that ? " " Certainly," replied the girl, as she drew it from her finger and handed it across to her mother. " Mr Gerald Rock- ingham gave it me directly, and you, father, gave it me indirectly. He bought it for me out of the money he won over Phaeton's Leger." Bill Greyson couldn't refrain from a slight start at his daughter's speech. No one knew better than he what had happened to the Squire of Cranley Chase over that race. " He was so pleased, father— exulted so much in his winnings, that he insisted on giving it me as a memento of landing his first stake." 66 A more costly stake, perhaps, never was won," muttered Greyson to himself. " He's a chip of the old block, Dollie, and has begun early, like his father before VOL. I. F 66 FROM POST TO FINISH. him; but I think it would have been better for the Squire if he'd never set foot on a racecourse. There's wildish blood in all these Rockinghams, and that sort as a rule don't make good gamblers." " You don't mean, father, that Mr. Rockingham lost a great deal of money at Doncaster, do you ? " " Yes, my girl, that's about what it comes to. It was hard, but it's not al- together my fault ; as a thorough sports- man and belonging to the county, I tried all I could to make them give him a hint; however, they wouldn't do so, and as it chanced I never had an opportunity my- self." " That, then, I suppose, will come very hard on Gerald ? " rejoined Dollie, open- ing her large grey eyes to their fullest extent. "Yes; that and a few similar scrapes that the Squire has got into," replied her father, drily. DOLLIE AT HOME. 67 " I am very, very sorry," replied the girl, gravely. " It almost makes me dis- like my ring. I feel quite grieved Gerald should have spent so much of his money on it." " You needn't distress yourself much on that account," replied her father. u That amount will make very little difference to what I'm afraid last Doncaster cost the Squire." And with this observation the trainer strolled out of the room. " What age is young Mr. Rocking- ham ? " inquired Mrs. Greyson. " Just a few months older than myself," said Dollie ; " he's going to the Univer- sity," and then she quietly followed her father's example, and left the room. She had no fancy for talking about Gerald Rockingham to her mother. F2 68 CHAPTER V. DEATH OF THE SQUIKE. A cold January day, and the bitter north- east wind swirled through the avenues of Cranley Chase, making the old oaks creak again. In the principal street of the little village men stopped each other, despite the keenness of the weather, to ask what was the news from the great house ; for all Cranley knew that the lord of the Chase lay dying. The village doctor had said openly at the Rocking- ham Arms that it was a question now not of days but of hours. The famous Lon- don physician had been down, at Gerald's earnest request, only to shake his head DEATH OF THE SQUIRE. 69 solemnly, and say that there was no more to be done. On the Squire's family his mortal sickness came like a thunderbolt ; but it was no surprise to Alister Rock- ingham himself, who had long been con- scious that life's machinery was giving way ; for himself he could have turned his face to the wall and met his doom calmly ; but his end was terribly embit- tered at the thought of those he was about to leave behind. He knew very well what little provision there would be for them, and felt that it was he him- self who had steered the ship upon the breakers. It may be doubted whether even Alister Rockingham himself was ware of how utterly ruined he really was. He did as men sometimes do under such circumstances, — sent for his solicitor, Mr. Pearson, and his cousin, Cuthbert Ellis- ton, in the vague hope that they might devise some salvage out of the wreck, and very shortly after their arrival the Squire 70 FROM POST TO FINISH. breathed his last, confiding the interests of those nearest and dearest to him — had he only known it — to the very two men who might, an they willed, have saved him. It is the day after the funeral. Alister Rockingham has been laid to his rest with all due pomp and ceremony in the old churchyard where so many of his race lie sleeping. His tenantry and the villa- gers — who, indeed, may all be included in the former category, as Cranley for the most part belonged to him — have stared their hardest at the sombre page- antry, and many of them shed tears at the grave-side of one who, reckless as he may have been of his own affairs, had always proved a kind landlord. Seated in the library of the Chase were Samuel Pearson, solicitor, and Cuthbert Elliston. On the table between them stood a decanter of sherry and a plate of biscuits. DEATH OF THE SQUIRE. 71 " Well, poor Alister has gone at last," said Elliston. " I suppose you've got the will there all ready to read to the widow and her children ?" " Yes," rejoined Pearson; "just as he backed horses when they had no chance to win, so he made his will when he had no money to leave." " Is it as bad as that?" " Yes," returned Pearson; "the old place is mortgaged down to the conserva- tory ; the house to the top rafter." " You must have feathered your nest pretty well," observed Cuthbert, with a sneer. " D n it, Mr. Elliston, I'll not stand such language from you ; as if you hadn't had your share of the cake." "Chut! man; keep your temper. We are not children who, having eaten the kernel, quarrel over the shells. I suppose that last Leger about finished him." "Yes; the poor Squire would have it 72 FROM POST TO FINISH. that Caterham must win. You, I, Bill Greyson, and Broughton, the bookmaker, thought he couldn't, and when we think they can't win " " They generally don't," interrupted Elliston ; " which shows what good judges we are, especially when they are in our stable. I suppose the widow will have to go?" u Yes ; Cranley Chase must come to the- hammer, and there will be a very slender income left for Mrs. Rockingham to live upon." " And that young cub will have to turn out and get his own living ? " " That's so. You don't like that boy, Mr. Elliston, but he's popular with the people about, and few of them would call him a young cub." u I hate the whelp, and I don't care who knows it. I hate his mother — she always distrusted me, and taught him to do the same.'' DEATH OF THE SQUIRE. 73 " 1 don't know that she was altogether wrong to do that," observed Pearson, musingly. " Confound it, sir, what do you mean?" " I thought we weren't to quarrel. I've just sent word to Mrs. Rockingham, to say that I want to see her on business, and she has replied she will be here in a few minutes." The words had hardly left his lips when the door opened, and the widow, attired in her sable draperies, and accompanied by her daughter, entered the room. " I have here," said Pearson, " your lamented husband's last will and testa- ment, but it is my painful duty to inform you that he died a ruined man, and that I can see no possibility of averting the sale of Cranley Chase." u Oh, Gerald, Gerald, where are you?" exclaimed the sorrow-stricken woman. u I cannot understand it all ! Oh, my son, come and talk to these men for me ! '' 74 FROM POST TO FINISH. " I am here, mother," said Gerald, who had entered the room noiselessly just in time to overhear his mother's last words ; " what do you want of me?" "It has been my painful duty," inter- posed Pearson, "to explain to Mrs. Rock- ingham the true position of her affairs— to break to her, in short, the sad fact of her ruin, and that Mrs. Rockingham should be very much upset at hearing it is only natural ; but the truth had to be broken to her sooner or later, and I thought it more judicious that she should know of it at once.'' "And I think Pearson's right," broke in Elliston. " It's no use shilly-shallying when an ugly story is to be told. It's a bad business, Beatrice, but you will have henceforth to face the world with very narrow means; while, as for you, Gerald," he continued, almost brutalty, " this means an end of Cambridge. I don't suppose you'll be doing much good there ; DEATH OF THE SQUIRE. 75 you'll have to turn to now and get your own living." "That is my business," retorted Gerald, sharply. " Neither my mother nor my- self are likely to consult you about our affairs." "You're surely not mean enough to think of living on her?" sneered Cuth- bert. " Certainly not," answered Gerald, his eyes sparkling with passion. " But it's nothing to you how I propose to earn my bread and cheese." "Well," rejoined Elliston, as if bent upon irritating the boy, "you can ride and shoot — there never was a Rocking- ham that couldn't. I should suggest your turning under-gamekeeper or pad-groom." Gerald sprang forward, and had not his sister caught him by the arm, and Mr. Pearson thrown himself in front of Elliston, the youth would undoubtedly have struck him. 76 FROM POST TO FINISH. " Do control }^our temper," said Ellen Rockingham, and for a few seconds more the young fellow's eyes flashed, and the veins in his forehead stood out. Then with a violent effort he controlled him- self, and said with sarcastic courtesy : — " Thank you for your advice. In the mean time, as I presume for the next few days Cranley Chase is still ours, allow me to point out that neither my mother nor myself are in the mood to entertain visitors at present." And as he concluded Gerald motioned significantly to the door. A furious scowl came over Elliston's face, and for a moment he seemed disposed to break out into a torrent of recrimination, but finally followed the example of his young cousin, and rejoined: " Good-bye, I wish you success in either of your new vocations. " Pearson gathered up his papers, and as he followed his companion out of the room whispered in his ear : DEATH OF THE SQUIRE. 77 " If that wasn't a direct hint to go, I never got one." " I mistrust that man, Gerald dear," said Mrs. Rockingham. " He detests you, and I'm sure that he led poor Alister into many of his more serious scrapes. When- ever they went racing together your poor father always lost." "And my cousin Cuthbert ?" inquired Gerald. 1 1 I don't know. No one, I fancy, ever knew much about his affairs, but I have a suspicion that your poor father paid for him many a time when things went against him." "You need not fear my making him my confidant," said Gerald. " He has always disliked me from my boyhood." Mr. Gerald Rockingham would have been mightily offended had any one pre- sumed to hint that was still not quite over. "But, Gerald," interposed Ellen, "you 78 FROM POST TO FINISH. surely have no idea of turning groom or gamekeeper ? Of course, we must do our duty in that state of life into which it has pleased God to call us, but anything of that sort would be so very humiliating for a Rockingham ! " She had her mission, and her own ideas of doing good, but under no circumstances must there be any debasement of the family name. " No, Ellen," said Gerald, as he wound his arm round her waist, "I don't, of course, know what I am going to do yet, but I don't suppose I shall turn my attention to either of those pursuits. Still it is very difficult to get something to do when you have been brought up to do nothing. I'm not a clever fellow, you know, and it's rather difficult to say to what I could turn my hand. Of course, mother, we shall have to leave Cranley Chase, but they are sure to give us decent time to arrange that. The sale of a big landed property DEATH OF THE SQUIRE. 79 is not managed in a moment. When you and Ellen are comfortably settled some- where, then I shall begin to look about me." The boy seemed transformed ; the know- ledge of the loss of his inheritance seemed to have made a man of him. Already he was facing the situation in the way men, if they have any " grit " in them, do face ruin. "It comes hard upon you, Gerald," said Mrs. Rockingham, as she kissed him ; "but remember I could never bear to hear a word against your father." "As if I would ever utter one against him. He was the beau ideal of a York- shire gentleman. And if the old place is gone, why we must just make the best of it. Do you think, mother dear, that Pear" son has been quite honest in his dealings?" " I cannot say. Your poor father placed implicit reliance upon him, especially in all cases of raising money." 80 FROM POST TO FINISH. u I shall ride into York to-morrow, and ask Mr. Writson to act for me in the settlement of our affairs. He has the re- putation of being an honest man, and though I don't suppose he can do much for us, yet he may be able to save some- thing for us out of the wreck. There are one or two people I want to see besides.'' The one or two people that Gerald wanted to see besides might have been condensed into Dollie Grey son, whom he found had just returned to her uncle's after spending her Christmas holidays at Riddleton Grange. The next day accordingly saw Gerald riding into York. Mr. Writson, a shrewd, able lawyer, gave him but cold comfort. He said he should be happy to do his best, but was afraid that Mr. Pearson had only too accurate a knowledge of the Squire's embarrassments. " Indeed, sir," he con- tinued, " I regret to say that it has been rumoured for some time that Mr. Rock- DEATH OF THE SQUIRE. 81 ingham was in difficulties. However, as I said before, if you wish me to act for you I will." That point satisfactorily settled, Gerald made the best of his way to Coney Street. Dollie was not in the shop, and, walking straight up to her uncle, Gerald asked if he could see her. He had so often taken the girl out riding that there was nothing unusual in this request, and Thomas Grey- son replied at once. " Yes ; you'll find her in the sitting- room upstairs." He found Dollie busy at the piano. She turned round when she heard the door open, and exclaimed, holding out her hand, — " Oh, Gerald, I am so glad to see you again, and I am so sorry for you, besides, for, of course, we have all heard of your loss." " Yes, though not perhaps the whole of it. I have come to say good-bye to you. VOL. I. Q 82 FROM POST TO FINISH. When I put that ring on your finger last September, and wanted you to consider it an engaged ring, I honestly meant it. I looked forward in a few years to making you my wife. But it has all altered now. I am simply ruined. Whether you would have said ' Yes ' I can't say, but I only know that as soon as ever I came of age I should have asked you to marry me." " And if you had been the heir of Cranley Chase, I think I should have said * No,' although I love you very dearly ; but now I am yours, whatever your position in life may be, whenever you come to claim me." " Ah, Dollie," he replied, gravely, " you don't know how complete a wreck it is. What is left will barely support my mother and sister, and how I am to get my own living I really don't know, unless I follow the advice that brute Cuthbert Elliston gave me. He told me I'd better turn pad-groom or gamekeeper. And it's DEATH OF THE SQUIRE. 83 bitterly true, Dollie. I can shoot and I can ride, but I think I like riding best." u Can ride ! " cried the girl with spark- ling eyes ; " I should think you can ! You remember the famous day when you got leave to take me to Askham Bogg. What a day we had ; but splashed, torn, and dishevelled as I was, we did see the finish of that run by hook or by crook, and there were many good men of the hunt who didn't." "Ah! well, Dollie, I suppose I'd best go for pad-groom, or something of that kind." " Stop ; I have an idea. Listen to me. You have often laughed, and said what a practical little woman I am. If you turn groom, Gerald, you'll remain a groom all your life ; and, though I'll be your wife all the same, I don't want that for your sake. Come into father's stable. He's a hard master, I know ; but you will at all events see me a little, and I can, per- G2 84 FROM POST TO FINISH. haps, make things easy for you. Father will do anything for me. Remember stable-boys become jockeys, and jockeys in these days make fortunes." u But wouldn't he recognise me ? " " No. Your father has not trained with mine for many years. I know he never saw you at Doncaster last year ; and even if he has seen you once or twice he will never recognise the heir of Cranley Chase in the stable-boy seek- ing a situation. But I shall, Gerald, dear." " By Heavens ! I'll try it, Dollie." 85 CHAPTER VI. RIDDLETON MOOR. About three months have elapsed since Gerald made up his mind to follow Dollie Greyson's advice. Both men and horses are pretty busy upon Riddleton Moor this March morning, for the racing season is now in full swing, and the trainer knows that his charges are wanted just as often as he can get them ready. William Greyson's is not a large stable ; still he has a tolerably good string, there being some sixteen or eighteen horses doing their work on the Moor this morning, some taking walking exercise in their sheets, some of them, divested of their 86 FROM POST TO FINISH. clothing, doing good steady canters at different distances. But the whole ex- citement of the morning seemed centred in a group of three horses, which are evi- dently preparing for a good strong gallop, and what particularly attracted attention to them were the vagaries of a slashing iron-grey colt, the mounting of which even seemed no easy matter. As for the unfortunate boy destined for the top of that colt's back, he evidently looked for- ward to no pleasant ride. This was the Dancing Master, a magnificent three- year-old, but afflicted with a most uncon- trollable temper. That the boy was thrown into the saddle was a matter of course ; but the Dancing Master appar- ently deeply resented the indignity: he lashed out twice wickedly; but the two or three people about him understood him much too well not to have kept well clear of his heels. His young rider, although a good deal shaken in his seat, managed to RIDDLETON MOOR. 87 stick on, and then the Dancing Master condescended to walk quietly after his two stable-companions. " Now, Donaldson," said Greyson, ad- dressing the leading boy, who was mounted on a rich dark chestnut horse; "you know what I want: a strongish pace for the first three-quarters of a mile, and then brush them up a bit the last two furlongs. Now then ; off you go." The horses jumped off, but that wasn't all ; for the Dancing Master immediately indulged in two tremendous plunges, and his boy was jumped off too. The horse seemed perfectly satisfied with his achieve- ment, for he remained quietly shaking his head, and made no attempt to follow his companions, who promptly stopped at Greyson's emphatic shout to them to pull up. " Confound you!" muttered the trainer, almost shaking his fist at the horse as he caught him by the bridle. " What an 88 FROM POST TO FINISH. unnatural brute you are ; when you know you can run clean away from anything in the stable, why don't you go and do it, instead of indulging in these tantrums ? — Here, Donaldson ; walk your horse down to where Butters is, on the far side of the ground, and tell him he must come up here to give the Dancing Master his gallop." Butters really was a fine horseman, and, but for his weight, might have been riding races at this time. He was very soon upon the back of the grey, and, after two or three plunges, the horse seemed to recognise there was no possibility of get- ting rid of him. Once more was the order given to go, and Donaldson again leads the way; this time the Dancing Master slips off in easy fashion, and follows his leaders in sober, decorous manner. Things went very well till they came to the six-furlong post, where, ac- cording to orders, Donaldson quickened RIDDLETON MOOR. 89 his pace, and then, to Mr. Greyson's utter astonishment, the Dancing Master appar- ently couldn't hold his own. The trainer set spurs to his hack and galloped down as soon as the spin was over to know what was the meaning of this. Ci Well, Joe," he exclaimed, as he arrived at the mile-post, u what was it?" a Just this, sir," replied Butters; " the minute I called upon him to go a bit in earnest he sulked and shut up." " He wasn't done at all?" inquired the trainer. " Done!" replied the head lad. " Not a bit of it — he was pulling my arms off. He simply refused to go on. There's some of them have done racing when they have done pulling. Blessed if this horse ain't a conundrum. I believe him to be a real flyer if it wasn't for his temper. I've backed him for the Two Thousand, and most devoutly wish I hadn't." 90 FROM POST TO FINISH. " Well, Joe, I think you may take 'em all home now. There's no more to be done this morning." When Mr. Greyson, after handing his hack over to one of the stablemen, walked towards the house, he found hanging about the gate a dark-eyed looking lad attired in a grey tweed stable jacket, moleskin trousers fitting pretty tightly to the leg, with some half-dozen buttons at the bottom outside each ancle, a rather gaudy silk handkerchief twisted round his neck, and a tweed cap slouched over his brows. " Well, my lad, what do you want?'' inquired the trainer. "Work," replied Gerald, curtly, as he touched his cap. "Of what kind? And what makes you come to me ? '' " I think I can ride," replied Gerald. " Nobody ever comes to me who doesn't," rejoined Greyson, " and it's RIDDLETON MOOR. 91 astonishing how I differ with them at the end of the week. Mark me, my lad, there's always room in a racing-stable for a boy who can ride; but I keep a trial horse. Do you know what that means?" " Of course; one with which you test the capabilities of the other horses in your stable." While they were speaking, the trainer led the way through the wicket, and, strolling leisurely across the grass plat, they now arrived at the porch. At the sound of their voices a half- open lattice was pushed still further open, and Dollie's head peeped out. The speakers could not see her in consequence of the roof of the porch, at the entrance of which they stopped, nor she them, but she could overhear every word they uttered, and naturally recognised their voices. It is almost superfluous to say that Dollie was perfectly well aware of the morning on which her lover was to make his applica- 92 FROM POST TO FINISH. tion for employment at the Riddleton stables. Indeed, she had already ex- changed a few words with Gerald at the gate while her father was on the Moor. " No ; my trial horse is a test of my lads' riding. The Dancing Master (you'll understand his name when you've had a ride on him) is about the wickedest I ever had in training. Now, look here, boy : if you like to ride him a galloj) to-morrow morning, and he don't put you down or run away with you, I'll give you a chance. Be here at six to-morrow morning, and in the mean time, if you go into the house, they will give you something to eat and a mug of ale." Gerald winced a little at the trainer's last remark, but there was one who winced far more than he did, and that one was Dollie, who had not lost one word of the conversation. She could not repress a slight shiver as her lover's degradation was thus brought home to her, and she RIDDLETON MOOR. 93 remembered that it was she who had counselled his taking this step. Many girls would have felt nervous and fright- ened at the idea of the ordeal he was to go through on the morrow, and Dollie knew perfectly well what giving that iron-grey colt a gallop meant, but it must be borne in mind that Dollie had been brought up amongst horses and horsemen. She knew Gerald could ride, and believed in his riding as only a girl does believe in her lover's ability to do anything. No ; she might be a little anxious, but she had no fear for him on the morrow ; it was the humiliation of to-day that wounded her so deeply, that her Gerald — Gerald Rock- ingham, of Cranley Chase — should be consigned to her father's kitchen to get " something to eat and a mug of ale " — and this was the first time he had crossed the threshold of her home ! He who should have come there as an honoured guest was meeting with the reception of a 94 FROM POST TO FINISH. mere stable-lad on trial ! And then Dollie knit her pretty brows in dire perplexity, and wondered whether she had been right in advising the step ! As for Gerald, he cared little about it. He walked off to the kitchen, joked the maids, and devoured the food and drink set before him with a hearty appetite. One accomplishment stood him in good stead. It is not an uncommon one. People born in a county, although they may speak excellent English, can also, if they choose, speak the patois of their county. Gerald was one of these, and could speak the broadest Yorkshire when it pleased him. He had thoroughly made up his mind to go through with his new part. The idea of riding the Dancing Master did not at all discompose him. He had ridden some very awkward horses before now. The only thing was it would be an awful bore to be kicked off, and though he flattered himself he could stick RIDDLETON MOOR. 95 pretty close to anything, still, what had happened to many others might also happen to him, and then he supposed Well ! Old Greyson wouldn't give him an engagement. Six o'clock the next morning found Gerald seated under the tree that fronted the Grange, patiently waiting the arrival of the trainer. Already he had seen the sheeted string of thoroughbreds, and under the superintendence of Butters take their way to the Moor. A few minutes later, and William Greyson emerges from the house, and walks towards the gate, where one of the stable-helps is holding his hack for him. " Ah ! my lad, so you come to be tested, and see what you can do with about the wickedest I ever trained ? " u I'm good to try, sir," replied Gerald, quietly. " I rather like that, my boy," said the trainer. " It's a good deal better than 96 FROM POST TO FINISH. that confounded confidence of half these young whipper-snappers in my employ- ment; though I'm bound to say," he con- tinued, with a grin, " the Dancing Master has taken the conceit out of most of them. Now you can just follow me up to the Moor, and then I'll see what you can do." Gerald trudged along by the trainer's side for about a mile, and by that time they were on the Riddleton training- ground. Do you suppose Dollie Greyson was in her bed this March morning when her lover's riding was to be so severely tested ? She was up and dressed quite as soon as her father. Now it so happened that the upper windows of the Grange commanded an excellent view of the gallops on the Moor. It was true it was a mile off, but that is easily within the range of a good race-glass. Three pairs of these were hanging, as she well knew, in her father's room, and no sooner had he left it than RIDDLETON MOOR. 97 she rushed across, and, selecting what she considered the best pair, brought theru back to her own room, opened the window, and prepared to be a spectator of the pro- ceedings. She saw her father and Gerald arrive on the Moor, ai)d then, after some little delay, she saw the horse led down which, as soon as the sheets were removed, her practised eye recognised as the Danc- ing Master. There was a little group gathered round him, and it was evident that a consultation of some sort was taking place. " Now, my lad," said the trainer, " there's the horse, and mind all I've told you about him is true ; so take care of yourself. Here, lend him a pair of spurs and whip, some of you." " Thank you, Mr. Greyson," replied Gerald; " but you've told me this is an awkward one, and I'd rather not have any spurs, though I'll take a whip." " Look here, young feller," said Butlers, VOL. I. II 98 FROM POST TO FINISH. in a low tone ; "if you can't ride above a bit, don't you try ifc. If you don't know how to fall, don't you try it, for he'll put you down to a moral. You're a lovely weight if you know how to do it, and should come down light, but that colt, oh ! Lord ! he chucks them off as quick as you shell peas." Another moment, and Gerald is on the back of the grey. For a moment or two after his head is loosed the colt stands motionless, whilst Gerald pats him on the neck, and not the least deceived by this apparent calm grips the saddle firmly with his knees. Then the Dancing Piaster commences his usual vagaries. A savage lash out behind is followed by a couple of furious plunges, which Gerald sits like a Centaur, and then the fierce fight between horse and man commences. A practised eye like Greyson's speedily detects that this new candidate for employment can ride, and what strikes the trainer even RIDDLETON MOOR. 99 more than that is the temper and patience he is showing in the struggle. The Danc- ing Master has been kicking and plunging his wickedest now for some minutes, sulk- ing at intervals only to break out again with more malevolence. At last Gerald takes up the whip and uses it in real earnest. It seems to madden the horse ; he plunges worse than ever, and in re- sponse to every plunge the whip cracks relentlessly round his ribs. Having failed so far to get rid of his rider by the usual method, he suddenly rears up and throws himself back, and comes down with Gerald's legs under him. There is a rush of the lookers-on to his assistance, as there is, of course, danger of the horse striking him in getting up. When they draw Gerald from under the horse he is insen- sible. " Here — some of you!" cries the trainer promptly, " put him in a spare sheet, and carry him down to the Grange. As for 100 FROM POST TO FINISH. you, you devil," he continued, shaking his fist at the grey colt, who stood trem- bling a little at the result of his fall, "I suppose we never shall teach you manners ! " As for Dollie, who has viewed the despe- rate struggle between horse and man, when she sees the colt go back she feels sick, and turns white to her very lips. Then she sees him dexterously jerked away the minute the horse, commencing to rise, takes its weight off his leg ; and then she sees again that ominous sign which makes her heart stand still — to wit, that he does not get up. "Oh, my God! he's killed," she mur- murs ; " and it is I who have killed him." But Dollie was no helpless young woman in times of exigency ; bravely swallowing down an hysterical sob or two, she dashes down stairs and despatches some one in pursuit of the nearest doctor ; then, stifling a strong inclination to order EIDDLETON MOOR. 101 her own room to be prepared for the sufferer, she gives orders that a more modest apartment shall be got ready for him, and then, with beating heart and ashen cheeks, runs down to the wicket- gate to await Gerald's arrival. The first sign of it is the appearance of her father at a canter. "Send somebody off for the doctor at once, my girl ; and get a room ready on the ground floor. The new lad has had an awkward fall." " I have done all that. He is not killed, father ; is he ? " she added, the tears welling up in her eyes. "Killed — no; but it's knocked the senses out of him. Until the doctor comes we shall hardly know to what extent he's hurt ; but what's all this ? — your cheeks are as white as a sheet, and the tears in your eyes ! " " Oh! it's nothing, father; but I— I— I 102 FROM POST TO FINISH. saw the accident; and it's rather upset me." A few minutes more and Gerald is carried through the wicket and laid quietly down on the grass plot under the tree. It requires all Dollie's control to prevent her throwing herself on her knees by his side and covering his pale cheek with her kisses. She hardly dares trust herself to speak; but, motioning to the house, says in a low voice : — " His room is ready." As they raise him again Gerald opens his eyes, and, in answer to an inquiry from the trainer, replies : — " No. I'm a good deal shook, still I don't think I'm broke anywhere ; but Mr. Greyson, you try your boys rather high." 103 CHAPTER VII. SAM PEARSON, SOLICITOR. Mr. Sam Pearson resided in a very- pleasant house, standing in prettily laid out grounds some little distance outside Micklegate Bar, in short, just before you came to " The Mount." Very handy, indeed, this to the Knavesmire, and Mr. Pearson always kept open house during York races. The big county is notorious for its astuteness in the matter of horse- flesh, but the solicitor enjoyed the reputa- tion of being more than a match for any horsedealer within miles of the North- country capital, and was as shrewd a 104 FROM POST TO FTNLSII. judge of both men and racing as any one in those parts. It was considered half the battle in a horse- case to have Sam Pearson on your side. His practice was peculiar though extensive, consisting in a great measure of these last-named causes and also the extrication of gentle- men from pecuniary difficulties. Mr. Pearson was, in short, a racing solicitor, — a man who, had you security, would find you the money to pay for a high- priced yearling or to settle at Tattersall's. People who find money after this fashion don't do it for nothing, and that Mr. Pearson should pluck a good many quilled feathers from his client for his own bene- fit was only in accordance with the re- gular order of things. Keen and sharp as he was in practice, the solicitor was, perhaps, all the more dangerous for a genial bonhomie that was apt to make his customers overlook the price they were paying for accommodation. His easy, SAM PEARSON, SOLICITOR. 105 sanguine manner communicated itself to them, and people who came reluctantly, but still with the grim knowledge that a certain sum must be raised at whatever sacrifice, were wont to walk out of his office impressed with the idea that bor- rowing money at forty per cent., washed down by a glass of wonderful old brown sherry, was rather a rollicking piece of business than otherwise. Mr. Writson said no more than the truth when he told Gerald that he fancied there would be little to be done with Sam Pearson. Mr. Writson was a steady old family solicitor, and though his amour propre forbade him to believe he was not a match for any man in his own profes- sion, yet he had an uncomfortable con- sciousness that upon this occasion he was pitted against the sharpest practitioner in all the West Riding. As for York and the countryside generally, I think the}- would have exclaimed : 106 FROM POST TO FINISH. u What ! old Writson against Sam Pearson ? Why it's a guinea to a goose- berry on Sam ! " Mr. Pearson had his offices in Lendall Street; a handy situation, no distance from either the market or Coney Street, both places to which clients of his were pretty well bound to resort, and two or three days after his interview with Gerald Mr. Writson stepped into the outer office, and sent in his card by one of the clerks. That the two solicitors knew one another was a matter of course ; they had met as antagonists before the magistrates, and also in the Assize Courts, many a time. That Mr. Writson should be received as soon as possible was a matter of profes- sional etiquette, and he was speedily shown into Mr. Pearson's private sanc- tuary. " Delighted to see you, my dear Writ- son. Almost unnecessary to ask after your health, for I never saw you looking SAM PEARSON, SOLICITOR. 107 better. Sharp weather, sir. Sharp as a solicitor in good practice, a little over- done for the matter of that. Interferes terribly with the hunting. But what am I saying ? As if that was a thing con- cerned you. Pray sit down, and let me know if there is anything I can do for you." "Well, Mr. Pearson," said the elder attorney, whose formal and somewhat old- fashioned manner contrasted very much with the genial, off-hand carelessness of the other, " I have called to represent Mr. Gerald Rockingham, and look after his interests in the winding-up of his father's affairs." "A profitless occupation," laughed Pear- son. " You'll find, I'm afraid, there is very little picking to be got off those bones." " You don't seem to follow me quite," retorted Writson, a little sharply. " I'm here to asertain what it is possible to 108 FROM POST TO FINISH. save out of the wreck for the widow and children.' 5 " Tut man; don't be so touchy. Sal- vage has always been one of the privileges of our craft. It is rather rough on the boy, I admit, to suddenly discover that his father has sucked the orange, and that he has merely inherited the skin ; but it is so. Alister Rockingham lived all his life as if his purse was bottomless ; and, mind, was not the man to brook either interfer- ence or advice. My instructions were generally a brief intimation that I must find so much money at very short notice ; no need to tell you that that meant bills bearing pretty stiff interest, and then, of course, came the old story of renewing; after which, as we all know, it is a mere question of time. Poor Rockingham was so far favoured that his fortune just saw him out ; had he lived, nothing could have saved Cranley Chase from the hammer this year." SAM PEARSON, SOLICITOR. 109 u Surely," exclaimed Writson, " you might have expostulated with him upon his reckless career ? " " Of course I might," replied Pearson, cheerfully ; " and enjoyed the gratifica- tion of seeing some other of my brethren undertake what my very high principles had rendered me squeamish about. I have a wife and family," continued Pear- son with mock solemnity. ' l The extensive borrowing of money throws very pretty pickings in the way of the legal gentle- man who has the management of it ; and, in justice to my belongings, it was not for me to let another pick up gold and silver, for the pocketing of which I had been vouchsafed the first opportunity. No, no, Writson," added Pearson, laugh- ing; " I'm pretty straight ; but you can't expect me to take off my hat, and say, ' After you, sir,' when it comes to who is to be first on Tom Tiddler's ground." " Well," rejoined the elder solicitor; 110 FROM POST TO FINISH. " I most assuredly haven't come to talk over either sentiment or morality, sorry though I may be to see a good old county name struck off the roll ; but I presume I can see all the deeds, mortgages, and otherwise ; in short, all the records of these money- borrowing transactions ?" " Undoubtedly, undoubtedly," replied the other. " Now, suppose you come and take a bit of dinner with me. I'll give you a rare good bottle of claret, or port if you prefer it, and then we could run through all these papers over a cigar afterwards ; what do you say ? " " I regret, Mr. Pearson, that I don't smoke ! and that I've been brought up not to mix business matters with after-dinner enjoyments. If you will kindly let me know what day I can go over those papers with you here, I will call in again ; and now I'll wish you good morning." Sam Pearson gave vent to a low whistle as the door closed on his visitor. SAM PEARSON, SOLICITOR. Ill " Well, of all the old broomsticks," he muttered, " that ever I came across ! He's as stiff, as wooden, and with about as much in him as is comprised within that very commonplace implement ." Another knock at the door cut short the lawyer's meditations ; and he was informed by one of his clerks that Mr. Elliston wanted to see him. "Show him in," replied Pearson; and as bis visitor entered he rose to shake hands with him. "Sit down," he continued. "Is it racing or money-lending brings you here? The former, I hope ; because there's a want of appreciation of your autograph that makes the latter occupation somewhat difficult." " You needn't be afraid ; I've not come to trouble you about anything of that sort. I only want to talk to you about the horses. We have got two good clink- ing four-year-olds in the stable in Cater- 112 FROM POST TO FINISH. ham and Phaeton ; and as the latter beat the Two Thousand winner in the Leger, last September, both the handicappers and the public are bound to conclude Phaeton the best horse of the two. Now we know he is just as many pounds behind Cater- ham as they will think him in front. It strikes me that our game would be to run Phaeton out at Ascot, and keep Caterham for the autumn handicaps." " Yes," said Pearson, musingly, "those appear to be sound tactics. Phaeton is quite safe to pick up a race or two at Ascot, which will, of course, impress that credulous community known as the British public more than ever with his supe- riority to Caterham. Yes, there seems a possibility of doing a smartish amount of business that way ; but we're cruel un- lucky with the young ones ; none of the two-year-olds seem any good, nor the threes either, unless it's that iron-grey co lt » 113 " And he has the temper of Satan," in- terposed Elliston, quickly. u Lord Glas- gow was right. When you are cursed with brutes of that description, the best thing is to shoot 'em right off." " Yes," rejoined Pearson ; "I don't suppose we shall do any good with him." " Absurd to think otherwise. And now listen to what I've principally come to see you about. They have got a dark colt, called Pibroch, by the Piper, out of Maggie Lauder, down at Newmarket, which I hear has done something very big. I know there's a big commission out to back it by the stable for the Two Thousand; and I think, old man, we had better swim in the same boat." " All right. I suppose you can place implicit reliance on your information ? They are laying a goodish price against that colt at present, and therefore you had better attend to it as soon as you get back to town, or wire, if you're VOL. I. I 114 FROM POST TO FINISH. going to linger down here. Now I've a little bit of news for you. Gerald Rock- ingham is going to institute a rigorous inquiry into his late father's affairs." "Well," replied Elliston, "I should think that that matters very little to you ; it may be inconvenient to me if sundry unredeemed promissory notes should come to light— no need to tell you that I borrowed a good bit of money from Alister in days gone by." " Yes," rejoined Pearson, with a tinge of contempt in his tones, "I can easily imagine that ; and yet you would not let me give him a hint about Phaeton for the Leger. If these bills exist they're not in my keeping, but will very likely be found amongst the late Squire's papers at the Chase." " Well, if they come into the hands of that young cub he can't make any use of them. I conclude they are all long overdue ? " SAM PEARSON, SOLICITOR. 115 "No," rejoined Pearson, looking at his turf confederate, through half -closed eyes ; " I should think not ; but if Gerald Rock- ingham chooses to publish the fact of their existence, and to hand them about now that it is generally known that he has been left pretty well penniless, I think it would be unpleasant for you in a social point of view." Sam Pearson was pretty unscrupulous, and a very keen practitioner to boot, but even he stood aghast sometimes at the cynical cold-blooded selfishness of Cuth- bert Elliston. From his boyhood Elliston had never left a desire ungratjfied that could be obtained at the expense of his fellows. What it might cost them was a matter of little moment to him. Of good family, he still held a brave front before the world, though there were items in his record which if brought to light were even more than the easy-going society of 12 116 FROM POST TO FINISH. our times could condone. Ruthless he had been from his youth to either man or woman, sacrificing them all in turn to the mere gratification of the moment ; but he was a good-looking man even yet, with a plausible manner and soft caressing address, apt to prepossess people in his favour ; in reality false, heartless, and re- lentless as a panther, and well-nigh as dangerous when brought to bay. What- ever his shortcomings might be, there were three things which no one could accuse Cuthbert Elliston of lacking — nerve, determination, and bitterness of tongue ; and yet no one who didn't know him would have guessed what savage sar- casm could fall from the lips of a man rather remarkable for his low trainant tones. " There's something in what you say, Pearson," he remarked, as he lit a cigar- rette; "but you don't quite understand SAM PEARSON, SOLICITOR. 117 the game, you see. You're a devilish clever solicitor, and there's no better judge of racing in England, but you know about as much of London society as you do of Central Africa. Used, as you suggest, by A lister Rockingham, known all through the London world, and the story of these bills would have been, as you say, a very unpleasant fact to face; but in the hands of a boy like Gerald, known to nobody, the thing is very different. Bah ! that for any harm he could do me," and Cuthbert Elliston snapped his fingers contemptuously. Sam Pearson said no more; the subject did not concern him, nor was it one he particularly cared to discuss. There were times when the lawyer distrusted his confederate. He invariably kept a very strict eye upon him, and as William Grey- son was devoted to him Pearson precon- ceived, and not unjustly, that Elliston, 118 FROM POST TO FINISH. whatever he might do with other people, was at all events bound to deal fairly with him. " You're quite right, Elliston," he re- plied, good-humouredly ; "I don't pre- tend to any knowledge of the London world. I heard from Greyson yesterday morning, and he says the horses are all doing well, and coming on nicely. It's no use our going over to Riddleton yet, but you must come down and put up with me a little later on, and we'll go over there and have a regular talk with Grey- son about the forthcoming campaign. He will know still more about the nags then than he does now. I suppose you go back to town pretty soon ? " " Off by the afternoon train, and, as I want to get something to eat before I start, I shall wish you good-bye. Drop me a line when you want me. As you say, visiting a training-ground at this SAM PEARSON, SOLICITOR. 119 time of year is d d cold and unpro- fitable. Good-bye." And so saying Mr. Elliston strolled leisurely out of the room. 120 CHAPTER VIII. THE REVEREND ROBERT THORNDYKE. Two months have elapsed since Alister Rockingham's death, and his widow and daughter are established in a small house just outside the Minster Close. They have not as yet made any fresh acquaintances, but the Rockinghams of Cranley Chase are well known to all the principal Church dignitaries in York, and none of them have failed to leave cards on them. Alister Rockingham had been a very popular man — " a right good fellow, no one's enemy but his own," was the universal verdict, and sincere commiseration for Mrs. Rockingham and her children was THE REVEREND ROBERT THORNDYKE. 121 the general feeling all through the city and the countryside. What had become of Gerald no one exactly knew. He had disappeared immediately after establish- ing his mother and sister in their present modest abode ; and all they knew about him was that he was in Cambridgeshire, where he said he had got work to do which would enable him to get a living, though it was naturally quite unconnected with the University. Poor Mrs. Rocking- ham troubled herself very little about what this occupation might be. But with Ellen it was different, and she felt very inquisitive as to what it was her brother was doing; but his father's death had made a great difference in Gerald ; he had passed from boyhood to manhood at one bound ; and to all inquiries from his sister made short answer, adding that she might deem his present employment derogatory to a Rockingham, but that Rockinghams must live, and that he found 122 FROM POST TO FINISH. it impossible to do so on the family dignity. Miss Rockingham was not a little astonished ; she recognised quite as quickly as her mother did the change in Gerald's character. As his eldest sister, she had been accustomed to patronise and sometimes snub him ; she understood now that this phase of sisterly subjugation was passed. Our relatives are a little slow to do this, and are wont to overlook the fact that we are no longer children, " It's a come down, mother, after Cran- ley Chase ; still, the little house is clean and comfortable, and I shouldn't so much mind if it wasn't for the terrible want jf earnestness of purpose manifest amongst all these cathedral dignitaries. They seem to think choral services and brilliant sermons are the limit of their calling. I miss my work at Cranley dreadfully — I feel myself so utterly useless here." < ' I am sure you need not fret, dear Ellen, about that. There are plenty of THE REVEREND ROBERT THORNDYKE. 123 parish priests in York who are quite out- side the Minster circle ; in a big city like this you may depend on it any of these will find you plenty of such employment as you wish for without difficulty." " Yes ; I heard yesterday that the Rector of St. Margaret's was a real hard- working parish priest. I think, mother, I should like to make his acquaintance." " Surely there will be time enough, child, for that later on. We are still within the shadow of our great loss." li True, dearest mother," cried the girl, rising, and caressing her as she spoke, "but grief becomes no easier to bear to people of my age and temperament by sitting still with our hands in our lap. I want work" continued Ellen, almost passionately — " something to take me out of myself. I have been accustomed to a good deal of it, you know, during the last two or three years, and this enforced idleness maddens me. Pray don't think 124 FKOM POST TO FINISH. that I have forgotten our trouble any- more than yourself; but we do not all meet our sorrows in similar fashion." Mrs. Rockingham stared at her daughter in no little astonishment. Ellen was a singularly undemonstrative young woman, sparing of her caresses, and reticent of any display of emotion ; one of those self- contained natures that, when they are really moved, are wont to astonish those nearest and dearest to them. Whether in love, anger, or righteous indignation, the habitual restraints once broken down they rage like a tornado ; and the intensity of their emotions, once exhausted, seem to collapse with a sob and a shiver, after the manner of such fierce and fitful storms. Ellen Rockingham, had, so to speak, been for the last three years beating against the bars. A quick, clever, intellectual girl, the dull country society to which she had been condemned wearied her to death ; for, since she had come out, the Squire's THE REVEREND ROBERT THORNDYKE. 125 reduced means had not admitted of in- dulgence in a London season for his wife and daughter. A few weeks for himself en (/argon, about Epsom and Ascot times, had been all he could afford ! while the ladies were left to vegetate in Cranley Chase. Now and again she met at some of the great houses in the neighbourhood a few brilliant talkers from that great world which it seemed she was never destined to enter ; and so at last, to relieve the intolerable dulness, Ellen Rockingham chose to consider herself endowed with a mission — namely, that of the regeneration of the rustic population of Cranley. Well, she took it out of her- self a good deal in this way, and that, with the assistance of long solitary gallops on the back of her favourite mare, had constituted her life for the last two or three years. She got on badly with girls of her own age; questions of paramount importance in their minds had no interest 126 FROM POST TO FINISH. for her. Dress ! No one could ever say but what Miss Rockingham was well dressed ; but still it was due to no exertion on her part. She had a good figure, a mother with exquisite taste, and a very clever maid. Under which circumstances a young lady may be faultless in costume without paying much attention to it her- self. Indeed, I have heard it whispered more than once that there are great ladies whose appearance would be benefited considerably if they would only leave such matters to their maid and dress- maker. To say that the choral service of the Minster was anything new to Miss Rockingham would, of course, be absurd; she had attended service there often, and had arrived at the conclusion about the clergy connected with the Cathedral upon no grounds whatever. They might be, what she imagined them, drawing good salaries, addicted to good dinners, and THE REVEREND ROBERT THORNDYKE. 127 thinking they were thoroughly discharg- ing the duties of their station by seeing that the music part of the services was as good as possible ; but Miss Rockingham was not in the least behind the scenes, and these men might possibly be quite as much given to u good works " as Miss Rockingham herself, and perhaps a little more judicious in the manner of them. Ellen had fallen unfortunately under the austere influence of the Low Church Rector of Cranley, an excellent well- meaning man in the pulpit, what Baxter describes as a " pious and painful preacher " ; but a man who unfortunately deemed any show of geniality of disposi- tion not in accordance with his profession. The Cranley people, I fancy, infinitely preferred his predecessor, who troubled himself more about the hounds and " Scott's Derby lot" than the schools; who didn't preach, but simply read two short drowsy sermons on Sunday ; yet was 128 FROM POST TO FINISH. ever open-handed and sympathetic with his parishioners in their trouble. Miss Rockingham, thrown by compul- sion a good deal on her own thoughts, found herself perpetually musing over what this Rector of St. Margaret's might be like. He was a man much talked about in York just then. He had some- what scandalised the dons of the Cathe- dral by what they were pleased to term his utter want of dignity and sense of his position. These rather high churchmen were a little aghast at his democratic tendencies. They talked patronisingly to the poorer members of their flocks: the Reverend Robert Thorn dyke would shake hands with his shoemaker, and treat him perfectly as an equal. At the same time there could be no doubt that he was a most energetic, hardworking man in his parish; in fact, as far as Miss Rockingham could hear, he was perfectly irrepressible, always bubbling over with energy, and THE REVEREND ROBERT THORNDYKE. 129 throwing himself into whatever he took up with a vehemence that usually swept all before it. There was a want of rever- ence too for the ecclesiastical authorities that some of the ladies of York especially shook their heads over. He had been known to contradict the Dean, and even to argue with the Archbishop. A des- perate, contumacious man this, with a strong will and opinions of his own, and who, moreover, by no manner of means could be made to understand that it would be more proper to subdue these opinions in the presence of his superiors. There again was a case of the man's moral obliquity ! He couldn't be made to under- stand that he had any superiors. The more Miss Rockingham heard of the Reverend Robert Thorndyke the more curious she became to see him. She pic- tured him to herself as a somewhat as- cetic, Low Church, puritanical clergyman, ablaze with all the fire and enthusiasm 130 FROM POST TO FINISH. of a John Knox, one who railed at all High Church doctrines ; stern in his denunciation of anything which savoured of Roman Catholicism as the great Scotch reformer. And one Sunday afternoon Miss Rockingham put on her bonnet, and informed her mother that she was about to attend service at St. Margaret's. She arrived there in good time, thereby ob- taining a good seat almost facing the pulpit. A few minutes, and the Rector entered the reading-desk, and Miss Rock- ingham opened her eyes wide. No one could say that the Rev. Robert Thorn- dyke was in the least deficient in dignity in the pulpit, whatever he might be else- where. But then he was so utterly unlike what Miss Rockingham had imagined. Instead of the pale, ascetic divine she had pictured to herself, the clergyman who commenced to read the service was a man of about four or five and thirty years of age, standing at least six feet one in his THE REVEREND ROBERT THORNDYKE. 131 boots, with crisp brown curly hair, bright blue eyes, which, though now composed, one could see at a glance had a laugh in them, and a somewhat florid complexion. Another moment, and his voice rang through the building, clear, sonorous, and musical, and when the prayers were over Miss Rockingham thought she had never heard them more impressively read, and then she composed herself for the five- and-forty minutes' serious discourse which she felt sure was to follow. But here Miss Rockingham was destined to be still further astonished. In a quarter of an hour Mr. Thorndyke had said his say, and had preached a sermon breathing hope and charity, which presented a rather startling contrast to that weary catalogue of pains and penalties to which she had been accustomed to listen in Cranley church. The sharp, nervous, incisive sentences made a great impression on K2 132 FROM POST TO FINISH. Miss Rockingham. What this man had to say he had said in such a clear distinct fashion that a child might almost have followed him, whereas the clergyman at whose feet she had till lately sat was wont to be not only involved and wandering in his discourse but to dwell with unctuous emphasis on all the damnatory clauses of the Athanasian Creed. As Miss Rockingham walked home I'm afraid she was thinking rather more of the preacher than of the service at which she had assisted. A clever girl herself, she recognised that short and apparently simple sermon was the work of a clever man, and came to the conclusion that for the future she would attend church at St. Margaret's. This was comforting to her, for to get their doctrine to their minds is sometimes a great tribulation to young ladies. " Well, Ellen," said Mrs. Rockingham, THE REVEREND ROBERT THORNDYKE. 133 as her daughter entered the drawing- room, " were you pleased with the service at St. Margaret's ? " "Very much, mother; but anything more unlike what I fancied him than the Reverend Robert Thorndyke is — it is impossible to conceive. He wears a moustache, and looks more like a dragoon than a clergyman, but he reads the ser- vice beautifully and preached such a clever sermon." 1U CHAPTER IX. SIR MARMADUKE MARTINDALE. It was about this time that there sud- denly rose above the turf horizon that bright particular star Sir Marmaduke Martindale, and with the advent of Sir Marmaduke came what is generally known as the era of the " plungers." At twenty-one the young baronet found him- self in possession of twenty thousand a year and one hundred thousand pounds ready money, the accumulations of a somewhat long minority. During his Cambridge career Sir Marmaduke had shown much more taste for the computa- tion of the odds than the absorbing study of conic sections. He preferred the lore SIR MARMADUKE MARTINDALE. 135 of Newmarket to the teaching of the schools, and no sooner was he his own master than he promptly repudiated a University which, truth to tell, had been more than once on the verge of repudiat- ing him. Sir Marmaduke had never affected the slightest intention of taking a degree, but there are plenty of men who go up to Oxford and Cambridge without any design of that nature. The baronet's irregularities had been pretty notorious, and that he should have escaped the pains and penalties of his offending was due partly to luck and partly to the leniency of the authorities. The Dons of his college don't trouble their heads very much about a man of this sort as far as his reading is concerned ; providing he is subordinate to the discipline of the Uni- versity, and does not wax over-riotous, they ask no more of him. Never having expected him to be a credit to his college, they are content to rest satisfied as long 136 FROM POST TO FINISH. as he avoids the other extreme, and does not become a disgrace to it. In no man's blood did the fierce itch of gambling run hotter than Sir Marma- duke's. He had exhibited this wild pas- sion for play while at the University, and had even then contrived to have a few horses in training at Newmarket; but, once emancipated from all restraint, Sir Marmaduke embarked in racing on a colossal scale. He gathered together a lengthy string of thoroughbreds, and the joldest of bettors stared aghast at the magnitude of his speculations. He became the head of a small clique who played almost as boldly as himself. Betting in those days was carried on on a scale of which the young men of the present day have no conception, and sums of such magnitude could be won over the great races as is now no longer possible. Amongst other equine celebrities owned by Sir Marmaduke was this colt Pibroch, SIR MARMADUKE MARTINDALE. 137 of which Cuthbert Elliston had spoken to Pearson. The horse had only run once as a two-year-old, when he had won a small stake at Newmarket, defeating some four or five very moderate opponents. From his performances he had not the slightest right to be first favourite for the Two Thousand Guineas, but first favourite he was, and, what is more, one of the hottest favourites that had been seen for many years. That the stable knew a good deal more about him than the public it was only fair to conjecture, and when Sir Marmaduke and his friends really fancied a horse the sheer weight of money that they invested upon him invariably brought him to the top of the poll. Both backers and bookmakers are exceedingly like sheep, and invariably follow the lead of two or three guiding spirits. Sir Marmaduke was a man who already in his short career had made some mar- vellous coups on the turf ; and that raven- 138 FROM POST TO FINISH. ing section of the British public who in- dulge in such speculation were now keenly observant of everything he did, and ex- cessively anxious to share his fortunes, consequently the public now were wildly backing Pibroch for the Guineas, although of course upon much less favourable terms than his owner and friends had contrived to do ; though it wanted yet about a month of the day fixed for the race, seven to four was the latest quotation against Sir Marmaduke's colt. Mr. Cuthbert Elliston had been early in the field, and had contrived to appro- priate a considerable proportion of money at the same price as the stable for himself and Pearson. Elliston was a man who had quite a staff of horse-watchers and people of that kind in his employ, and undoubtedly often was in early possession of valuable information concerning stables other than his own. He payed well for such, and never inquired by what means SIR MARMADUKE MARTINDALE. 139 it had been come by, but on one point he was relentless. If ever the information supplied by one of his myrmidons turned out false Cuthbert Elliston left no stone unturned to punish the offender. More than one of these jackals of the racecourse had rued the day when, either from de- sign or carelessness, they had despatched false intelligence to Cuthbert Elliston. Sam Pearson, as he read the weekly account of the doings at TattersalPs, felt well satisfied with what his partner had done about Pibroch. You may know nothing about racing, but to buy shares at a low price and find them going up forty or fifty per cent, is a thing under- standed by most people, and that is pre- cisely what the quotations from Tatter- sail's represented to Pearson. Ah, well ! it is all over now, and horse- racing, according to many people who study the signs of the times, is in a fair way to share the fate of pugilism. The 140 FROM POST TO FINISH. days lang syne when investors used to enjoy all the fun of watching the fancy they had backed fluctuate in the turf share-market all through the winter are gone. We live in days of cant and mock civilisation, and are perfectly hysterical in our shrieks regarding cruelty to animals. We sacrifice our fellow-creatures without the slightest compunction in the number- less petty wars in which we are ever- lastingly engaged, and yet shrink from putting the rope round the murderer's neck. Civilised, no doubt, — ever advanc- ing in civilisation ! But what is the out- come of it all ? Sir Marmaduke had opened the season in rare form. The Ring had winced at the settling over the Craven Meeting, and were now perfectly paralysed by another stroke of turf strategy on the part of this young Napoleon of the racecourse. A dangerous three-year-old had made his appearance at this last meeting, and SIR MARMADUKE MARTINDALE. 141 landed a Biennial Stake over the Rowley Mile in such handsome fashion as to sug- gest to the minds of the lookers-on that he was likely to imperil the victory of Pibroch in the Two Thousand, however good that colt might be. Before the en- suing week was over it became known through turf circles that Sir Marmaduke had bought this new comer for a fabulous sum, and after that, as the bookmakers said, who could say what this daring young gambler might do ? That he had a wonderful clear, shrewd head, those who came most in contact with him were fain to acknowledge ; that he was a very fair judge of racing was also apparent ; while even his veteran trainer was often filled with astonishment at the information he possessed about antagonistic stables. Sir Mamaduke, indeed, employed a very army of horse-watchers. He eclipsed Cuthbert Elliston in this respect, and, though he might lack that gentleman's experience, 142 FROM POST TO FINISH. he possessed a very much longer purse. Informers against horses, like informers against humanity, are ever at the disposal of the highest bidders. It was curious to see the effect of Sir Marmaduke's appearance in the Ring, when, with his hat slightly pushed back, flower in buttonhole, and cigarette in mouth, he stepped inside the roaring cir- cle, and opened that betting-book, bound in the colours they knew so well; the bookmakers swarmed round him like bees round a honeycomb, and the quick, short nods with which, the price once adjusted, he would pencil down three or four pages of bets, was a sight to see. Men don't back horses in such fashion nowadays, and perhaps it is as well ; but I never can help a lingering feeling of admiration for those bold bettors of the " plunging era." I suppose in the old days of the Prince Regent and Crockford's, when Charles Fox played hazard from sunset to sunrise, SIR MARMADUKE MARTINDALE. 143 they perhaps gambled as fiercely ; but I doubt if men of the present time can ever recall heavier gambling on the turf than when Sir Marmaduke Martindale was at the zenith of his career. There were all sorts of rumours concerning him. 'Twas said that he slept with his betting-book and a Derringer pistol under his pillow ; that he lived chiefly upon champagne and cigarettes. The rumours of his winnings were fabulous ; of his losings people never spoke; and yet the most reliable axiom connected with gambling is contained in the line, " But dice will run the contrary way." It was some three weeks before the First Spring Meeting at Newmarket, and TattersalFs was in a tremendous blast that Monday. Hotter and hotter was the desire to invest upon Pibroch ; but, boldly as the backers came to the front, still the fielders never flinched. No sooner was six to four taken in hundreds than the 144 FROM POST TO FINISH. strident voice of Bob Broughton — one of the leading Northern bookmakers — rang through the room with — " Here's anaither seven hoondred to four against Pibroch." Seated on one of the benches outside the little Subscription Room, with the eternal cigarette in his mouth, was the owner of that noble animal. His hat was tipped over his eyes on this occasion, and not thrown slightly back on his head, as was the case when he meant really trans- acting business; he seemed half asleep, and was only roused from his reverie by a good-looking man, who lounged up to him and said, — ' i I say, Marm ; they're knocking your horse about like the deuce inside. What's the matter?— is there anything wrong with him ?" " There wasn't at nine o'clock this morning. He did a good gallop, and pulled up fresh and well ; and I should SIR MARMADUKE MARTINDALE. 145 have been wired to in cipher had any- thing happened." u All right, old man ; blessed if I don't have another seven hundred to four about him at once. Broughton and some more of them there have got a craze that they know something." " Well," said Sir Marmaduke, in his usual languid manner, "I think I wouldn't be in a hurry, if I were you." " Why ? you tell me the horse is all right; what the deuce do you mean?" exclaimed Captain Farrington. " Well, as a rule, I usually mean what I say. I simply reiterate, the horse is well ; but, if you take my advice, you won't be in a hurry to back him." " But hang it all, old fellow ; just ex- plain." u My dear Farrington, if there's one thing I pride myself upon, it is the ex- treme simplicity of my English. I never go into verbose explanations. Do as you VOL. I. L 146 FROM POST TO FINISH. like ; but don't turn round upon me after- wards and say I might have told you. Turf tactics are beautiful in their sim- plicity and ingenuity ; but you can't win if you lay your cards upon the table." Captain Farrington gave vent to a sub- dued whistle. He was a bold and daring plunger, and had concentrated such brains as Providence had given him on the study of the mysteries of the turf. He knew better than to attempt bookmaking, being conscious that arithmetic was one of his weak points ; but in the backing of horses, like the backing of the colours in rouge et noir, there is a delightful sim- plicity requiring but little intellect to master. He did not do so very badly upon the whole. He was a popular man, and received various hints from the racing magnates as to judicious investments; although, as in the present case, it took a little hammering into his handsome head. " Doosid clever fellow is Manny. Sup- SIR MARMADUKE MARTINDALE. 147 pose I'd better wait and see what his little game is." He hadn't very long to wait. As the clock in the Subscription Room marked a quarter to five Martindale lounged in in his usual nonchalant manner. " Want to back a horse, Sir Marmaduke ? " was shouted from more than one throat, bat above the din thundered Broughton's voice with : — u Here's seven fifties to four Pibroch ! " " Have a bet. Sir Marmaduke," said one of the wiliest speculators in the turf market. " I've only just begun a book on the Guineas, and you haven't given me a turn yet. Let me write you down." " So you shall," rejoined the baronet, i6 if you really mean betting." " All right, Sir Marmaduke, what shall it be ? In monkeys or thousands ? " " I'll tell you what you shall do," said the baronet, drawing his betting-book from his pocket, " you shall lay me ten l2 148 FROM POST TO FINISH. thousand to a thousand against Bush- ranger, and if anybody wants to go on " — and here the baronet looked defiantly at the surrounding crowd of bookmakers — " they can lay it again ! " It was something like a shell exploding in that circle. Here was the owner of the favourite backing his new purchase instead of standing to his old love. There was a slight hesitation, and then from various quarters rang out offers to take the odds against Bushranger, with the natural con- sequence that his stable companion, Pibroch, began to decline in the betting. As for Sir Marmaduke, he was inflexible. He offered to take ten to one not only again, but twice over, but the Ring had got a scare, and eight to one was the highest offer. Muttering something con- temptuously to the effect that he really had no time to waste with a lot of men who didn't mean betting in earnest, but were simply all talk, the baronet snapped SIR MARMADUKE MARTINDALE. 149 up his book and left the Subscription Room. As he made his way up the narrow passage to the outer door he was overtaken by Farrington. "By Jove, old fellow !" said that gentleman, a you've set 'em a riddle in- side that will keep 'em thinking all night. But I say, Marm, is Bushranger really the best ? " " My dear Farrington, don't ask indis- creet questions. Rest satisfied with what I told you at the beginning of the afternoon — namely, that if you waited you'd get longer odds about Pibroch." The Honourable remained wrapped in reverie for some few minutes after the baronet left. At last his thoughts took a tangible form, and he muttered, u It's a rum go, and which is the real pea I'm blest if I know." 150 CHAPTER X. AN UNDERGRADUATE OF THE SADDLE. Gerald Rockingham, under the assumed name of Jim Forrest, had now been in- stalled for some three weeks at Riddleton Grange. He stuck closely to his work, was excessively willing and punctual, though deviation in this last matter is a thing rarely known in a racing stable. He had won Joe Butters' regard, not only for these former qualities but from his perfect nerve with the horses. Jim Forrest, indeed, seemed quite indifferent as to what he rode, and was now appointed to look after the Dancing Master. He got on pretty fairly with that amiable AN UNDERGRADUATE OF THE SADDLE. l6l animal in his box, and could admittedly do more with the horse on the training- ground than any one else. I don't at all mean that he had exercised the devil en- tirely out of the brute. The horse still continued to show his savage temper as heretofore ; he would suddenly decline to move at all, then he would buck, kick, and plunge like a very demon. Then again he would take hold of his bit, and for once in a way gallop with a vengeance, cutting down both Caterham and Phaeton at seven pound less than weight-for-age in marvellous fashion, making old Bill Greyson grind his teeth with exasperation when he thought of the brute's wayward- ness. " There's all the stakes in the world at the villain's mercy if we could only rely upon him. What a thing temper is, both amongst horses and Christians! " One thing the astute trainer noticed was that the Dancing Master had never 152 FROM POST TO FINISH. succeeded in getting rid of young Forrest. He had thrown every boy in the stable, not even excepting the redoubtable Joe Butters ; but Jim Forrest, thanks to his firm seat and untiring vigilance, had never been so disposed of, unless the first morning, when the horse went back with him, should be so accounted. Not a pleasant horse to ride by any manner of means. He would go along quietly and easily just to lull you to sleep, and then, without a word of warning, break out in his tantrums, the result of which was that many a boy turned a somersault in the air. Jim owed his immunity to never relaxing his vigilance. After that first morning he had never asked for the favour of a whip, and Bill Greyson had often admired the patience with which the lad would bear with the horse's vagaries. He would sometimes wear the Dancing Master out when he was in one of his sullen moods by sitting immovable as one of the AN UNDERGRADUATE OF THE SADDLE. 153 sentries at the Horse Guards, and quietly waiting till it pleased him to move, when at last the horse, I presume from sheer weariness of spirit, would break into life again, and either kick or plunge, or start down the gallop like a steed possessed. " Tell you what, Dollie, that was rather a good pick up, that last boy — that young Forrest. He's only been with us three weeks or so and I'm blest if he isn't the best of the lot of them. Mark me, if he don't put on flesh, and become too heavy, he'll likely come out as a jockey some of these days,'' said Mr. Grey son one morning. That Dollie watched her lover's pro- gress with the keenest interest I need scarcely say ; but she very rarely suc- ceeded in exchanging a word with him. It would have been a terrible solecism for Miss Greyson to have been seen talking to one of the stable-boys. Should Jim Forrest ever become a jockey, then, of 154 FROM POST TO FINISH. course, it would be perfectly correct, as, by the immutable law of nature, jockeys seem invariably to look amongst the trainers' daughters for a wife. Although Jim bore his lot with great resolution, it had more discomfort than usual connected with it. It need scarcely be said that association with his companions was ex- tremely distasteful to him, and that they should bitterly resent his standing rather aloof from them was only natural. They speedily recognised that he was of a class above themselves, and liked him no better for that, stigmatising him as a " bloated swell," and subjecting him occasionally not only to their coarse jeers, but further electing him as a fit subject to play prac- tical jokes upon. However, all this sort of thing came very speedily to an end. One of the biggest boys, encouraged by the placid manner with which Forrest tole- rated this sort of horseplay, thought fit to indulge his humour rather further one AN UNDERGRADUATE OF THE SADDLE. 155 evening. He caught a Tartar with a vengeance. Jim's left shot out straight and deadly as the matador's sword, and stretched the joker flat upon his back. "A ring - a ring!" shouted his com- panions ; and, with little stomach for the task, the aggressor found himself obliged to stand up to his victim and fight him in earnest. Bob Matthews — for such was the aggressor's name — would have very gladly compromised matters ; but his comrades had no idea of being defrauded of all the gratifications of a fight. Jim was about a year older than his anta- gonist, and, besides a natural attribute for all athletic pursuits, had enjoyed the ad- vantage of professional instruction. Three rounds saw the termination of the whole affair; and that Bob Matthews should have come up for the third time after the severe punishment he had received, showed that, though destitute of science, he was at all events not wanting in pluck. 156 FROM POST TO FINISH. I need scarcely say that, from this out, no one attempted to interfere with Jim. The stable-boys had ascertained two very important points — not only that he would fight, but also that he could — in fact, the straightness, quickness, and severity of his hitting had excited no small admira- tion in the little community. If the life was somewhat hard, it was at all events healthy. Early hours, lots of exercise on the bracing moorland, and plenty of wholesome food ; for though jockeys are perforce condemned to lead the lives of anchorites, the boys in any stable of repute are well taken care of, and by no means " muzzled." Still it was galling to one who had been brought up as heir to Cranley Chase to have to endure at times sharp rating from a man who had stood almost in the capacity of servant to his father ; and, willing as Jim was, the strapping down of his horse was new to him. He was not ignorant of AN UNDERGRADUATE OF THE SADDLE. 157 how it ought to be done, but he lacked the practical knowledge. As Mr. Grey son said emphatically to him one morning, " You're better in the saddle than the stable, my lad. Don't be afraid of your horse ; rub him down as if you were polishing a dining-table." " He's a little awkward to deal with, sir," expostulated Jim. " We never want answers unless asked for in a racing stable," replied Grey son, sharply. "Your business, my lad, is to take in what's said to you, and offer no opinion upon it. If I take it into my head to train tigers, you'll have do 'em properly, or go." Trainers have their annoyances like other people. Annoyances as a rule are reflected in the temper like a face in a glass, and Mr. Greyson at times would almost shake his fist and curse the Dancing Master after some out-of-the-way misconduct on that provoking animal's 158 FROM POST TO FINISH. part. It was aggravating after such a slice of luck as carrying off the Two Thousand and Leger the previous year to find yourself with a colt in the stable quite capable of a similar feat if he could only be induced to do his best. But there it was. A queerer-tempered animal than the Dancing Master it had never been Bill Greyson's lot to take charge of. His legs seemed of iron. He was never sick nor sorry, nor any anxiety to his trainer in that way, but what vagaries that wayward grey might indulge in on a racecourse no mortal could foresee. His owner, Cuthbert Elliston, felt more vindictive concerning him than even Grey son. His wrath with an animal that ought to be a veritable gold mine to him, and obstinately declined to exert itself, was virulent in the ex- treme ; and over and over again he declared that it was cheaper to shoot such bad-tempered brutes at once. You could not then be seduced by fallacious per- AN UNDERGRADUATE OF THE SADDLE. 159 formances on the home gallops into losing your money over them on a racecourse, and the Dancing Master, during his two- year-old career, had proved a terribly expensive horse from his erratic caprices. Gradually Jim got excessively fond of his charge, and the wayward grey seemed after his own fashion to reciprocate his attendant's regard. It was undoubted that he would behave better to Jim than to any other boy in the stable, but that was not saying so very much after all. It was never safe to be at all careless in dealing with him, and on the training- ground his behaviour was, as often as not, quite as unruly as ever. Still, Jim, after the manner of the class with which he had identified himself, believed that his charge was the greatest three -year- old in England. " If you could only make up your mind to take things in reason, old man," he would say sometimes, as he caressed the 160 FROM POST TO FINISH. grey's black muzzle, when that fickle quadruped was in an amiable mood, "you could take a double first, you know you could. I know it's only your light- headedness, but you carry it too far, you do indeed ; and spoiling my waistcoat or fetching me one on the legs isn't a nice way of showing your gratitude." Hazlitt has said " that the apprentice who does not believe that he will come to be Lord Mayor is in a fair way to be hanged." Similarly the stable-lad who does not think that the colt he looks after is a very possible Derby winner will do no good in his vocation. Jim stuck doggedly to his work, and never made answer again to any rebuke which Grey- son addressed to him, rising gradually higher in that astute worthy's esteem than he could have imagined. Another thing that had much perturbed Jim in the first few weeks of his novitiate was the fear of being recognised, but this AN UNDERGRADUATE OF THE SADDLE. 161 gradually faded away, as he found how very few of his own class were ever to be seen about Riddleton Moor. True, he knew that some time or other he should probably have to encounter Cuthbert Elliston or Pearson, but, as Dollie pointed out, the difference of dress and their being so utterly unprepared to see him in such a position would make their noticing him improbable. If he would simply wear a wrap round his throat that he could pull well up if necessary, a very common article of attire among his companions, and take the precaution of pulling his cap well over his brows when such partial concealment of his face became necessary, there was little fear of his being re- cognised. " Don't be offended, Gerald, dear, but our patrons don't take much notice of the stable-lads as a rule," said Miss Grey son, " and you may trust me to let you know when we may expect visitors." VOL. I. M 162 FROM POST TO FINISH. At eighteen, when we have done nothing, we are wont to think the eyes of the world are upon us. At eight-and- thirty, when we have shot our bolt, we know it is very unlikely to take heed of us. Jim Forrest meanwhile stuck stub- bornly to the rough and somewhat monotonous existence he had marked out for himself. Wicked as the Dancing Master's temper was, Jim spent hours meditating over conciliatory measures concerning him, but the capricious brute, after exhibiting exemplary manners for two mornings running, and flattering his trainer into the belief that they had at last won his confidence, would on the third behave like a horse possessed, and even jDatient Bill Greyson, though firmly im- pressed as ever with what the grey could do if he chose, was getting more de- spondent every day about his ever being in the humour to try when wanted. u It's hard, Dollie, confounded hard," AN UNDERGRADUATE OF THE SADDLE. 163 he would say sometimes in the bitterness of his heart; " that grey colt trains on every day ; no cause for uneasiness about him. He's sound in limb and wind as any ever I handled, and clears out his manger as a horse should do. That Forrest, who looks after him, is a smart lad, too. The brute's had every chance, and there the ungrateful devil stands. He's good enough to sweep the board this year, and bad enough to break the Bank of England." u What does Mr. Elliston say about him, father ? " asked the girl. " Hates the very name of him. You see we had a rattling good year all round last, bar the Dancing Master. He took the gilt off the gingerbread considerable. What we dropped over him on the New Stakes at Ascot made a considerable hole in the Two Thousand winnings, while half the Phaeton money was down on him M 2 164 EROM POST TO FINISH. for the Middle Park, when he started first favourite and never even got placed." " I'm sorry, father. It's very provok- ing. Will he gallop with what's-his-name — I mean Forrest — on his back ? " " Sometimes. But it's the old story ; he will and he won't — and there's no guessing when he will." " Shall you send him to Newmarket to follow in Caterham's footsteps, father ? " "Most unlikely he would follow even if sent," snapped Mr. Greyson ; " but Mr. Elliston must decide that, and I don't think he'll trust him again. I should think one hundred and fifty or so would buy him, and to any one who wants a superannuated groom comfortably chawed up, or a loose box kicked down, he's cheap at the money. " He's not dangerous to the boy who look's after him, surely," said Dolly, quickly. AN UNDERGRADUATE OF THE SADDLE. 165 "No; not exactly. Forrest under- stands him, and he's fairly behaved with him in the stable ; but he'd eat anybody who hadn't sense and quickness, and he kicks at times like a mad horse." "And will win the Two Thousand?" interposed the girl, laughing. " More likely never to have left Riddle- ton the day that race is run," replied her father. tl However, Mr. Elliston is com- ing next week, and that will settle it." " Yes, I suppose he will decide then," replied the girl, dreamily. "Good night." 160 CHAPTER XI. THE ELLISTONS AT HOME. If ever a woman had tasted bitter expe- rience that woman was Mrs. Cuthbert Elliston. A girl of excellent family, and with thirty thousand pounds dowry, she had yielded to the soft, seductive wooing of Captain Elliston, of " the Brigade," with half-a-score better men in point of position at her feet. Handsome man he was now, and with those soft, trainant tones especially prized by women, as a rule ; but twenty years ago young Elliston was voted about the best-looking and fastest young one in the Guards. His kith and kin were all of undeniable blood, THE ELLISTONS AT HOME. 167 and Elliston from the first had enjoyed the entree to circles somewhat difficult of attainment. He became the fashion ; the quick, genial repartie of those days could scarcely be traced in the cynical sarcasm of the j>resent. Bright eyes sparkled and rosy lips smiled as Captain Elliston drew near, and, if some of his comrades thought " Cuddie" had done rather well for him- self, there were plenty of young ladies who half envied Mary Merlington, niece to Lord Mavis, her good fortune. She was marrying — only, poor soul ! she didn't know it — a selfish gambler, already over head and ears in debt. A man at whom the ring already began to look askance, and whose face was well known wherever dice rattled or cards were cut. But he was still popular with his brother officers, with whom such venial offences as a taste for play and habits of extravagance were of small account, and they all agreed Cuddie was making a very 168 FROM POST TO FINISH. edifying end of it in marrying Miss Mer- lington; more especially when it trans- pired that only twenty thousand were settled on herself, and the remainder left loose to assist Elliston in the purchase of his steps. "Just about put Cuddie square/' ob- served Tom Rustleton, his most intimate friend, with a knowing wink; "give Mavis a real chance of playing the old comedy uncle, and coming down with the money for the steps afterwards." " He ain't one of those bogus lords, all coronet and blue blood, old family, and chronic impecuniosity, is he?" inquired Colonel Matchlock. " No, no ; he spun, or struck oil, or made boots, or invented a patent, or else his father did. He was nearly d d and knighted, but they made him a Baron instead. There's not much difference nowaday when Sir Richard serves you with two pounds of figs, or appeals to you THE ELLISTONS AT HOME. 169 to try his interchangeable watch, or when, as a Baron, you get your living out of companies as bogus as your coronet." " They get a little too bogus at times ; but the law is benevolent to coronets, if possible, as a rule," rejoined Colonel Matchlock, a keen, cynical man of the world, with as much liking for Elliston as it was possible for him to achieve con- cerning any human being. He was Elliston's Captain (we all know the extra rank carried by the Guards) and a man somewhat of his own kidney, but with far larger means and much cooler brains than his sub. for either racecourse or gaming-table. Colonel Matchlock would play high at whist or ecarte, in both of which games he was a proficient ; but he was not much given to hazard, nor was he given to betting high upon a race- course, except under direct stable infor- mation; no more irrepressible or daring 170 FROM POST TO FINISH. plunger when that was the case than Dick Matchlock. So they talked about Cuddie Elliston in the bow- window in Pall Mall some twenty years ago ; and your brother officers, ac- cording to their different lights, are not wont to make such a very bad horoscope of your future, or judge of your character much amiss. Men and women, too, must internally judge their fellows from their own point of view. What represents almost vice to one person is simply folly to another. We differ in our creeds, we differ in our views of life, manners, and politics. The unmitigated cad in A.'s light is excellent company to B., while theologically I would advise my compeers who desire comfort especially to be " shadowy." But marriage made no difference in Elliston's life. The man was an irre- claimable, selfish gambler, and had neither THE ELLISTONS AT HOME. 171 real love for Mary Merlington nor any- thing but a tinge of contempt for her paternal family. He wanted money ; it was an essential that his present existence depended on ; and to such as Elliston life presents but that one view -the race- course, the card-table, and the coulisses. Before the year was out poor Mary Mer- lington knew what her life was destined to be, and had fathomed the utter selfish- ness of her husband's character. She was of that sort that seem born to suffer. Not a word against her husband ever escaped her lips. Nobody knew better than she of what inferior clay her idol was made, but she was not going to make the world the confidant of her mistake. On the contrary, she was never without excuse for his shortcomings, albeit quite aware the bright future she had pictured was never destined to be realised. A bare two years saw Cuthbert Elliston gazetted out of his regiment, and every sixpence of 172 FROM POST TO FINISH. that ten thousand pounds destined for his promotion, as well as his commission money, gone. They had been at times vagrants on the face of the earth, but of late had struggled on in a small house in Ebury Street, Eaton Square, as the in- habitants exult in calling it. There is something in living near the rose, and Pimlico is ever loth to acknowledge its actual identity; and their sole reliable income was derived from Mrs. Elliston's settlement, which was out of reach fortu- nately of her husband's itching fingers. There were times, of course, when gleams of luck shone over the gambler's home, and, like all true gamblers, Cuthbert Elliston was lavish of his money when fortune favoured him, and, taught by dread experience, his wife always took advantage of the sunshine to store for those stormy days she knew would in due course follow. Many an expensive brace- let or cashmere, &c, did she bu}^ in those THE ELLISTONS AT HOME. 173 days that she well knew were destined to return at half-price to the vendor before many months were passed. A woman with fair ability, and who really loves her husband, will learn pretty well any- thing for his sake, and Mrs. Elliston knew the u Racing Calendar," and what trinkets and gewgaws were always u returnable," as well as in days of yore she knew the book of the opera, or what prices to ask at a fancy bazaar. It was, perhaps, for- tunate for Mary Elliston, on the whole, that she had been blessed with no family. If children might have consoled her for those lonely hours which her husband's infatuation and their consequent fluctuat- ing income condemned her to, still she was spared the harassing anxiety about their future which would otherwise have been her fate. Last season had been on the whole a very good year for Mr. Greyson and his employers, and though that flying but 174 FKOM POST TO FINISH. evil- tempered grey two-year- old had made an unpleasant hole in the winnings, yet the stake won over the Two Thousand, and the still larger one landed over Phaeton's Leger, had left a very com- fortable balance to the good at their respective bankers. The Ellistons might have been described as in rather full plu- mage, and, moreover, Cuthbert fancied he saw a prospect of a tolerably prosperous season once more before him. No one knew better the infirmities of horseflesh than he did, the frailty of legs, the lament able delicacy of the equine bronchial tubes, their susceptibility to cold, and their liability to that most provoking of all ailments, namely, the being a little out of sorts ; or in turf argot, "a little off,'' when backed for a large stake. We suffer our- selves in this wise, but obstinately refuse to recognise that our race-horses should be equally subject to bad days, and are apt to talk of malpractices because the THE ELLISTONS AT HOME. 175 gallant brute we have backed is not in such trim to fight out a ding-dong struggle as he was a fortnight ago. Were not you, my friend, settled by that cucumber you devoured so greedily with last night's salmon, and did you not blow shamefully as you breasted the hill- side next day, and let more than one bird sail airily away that ought to have bit the heather, simply because you were out of form? Race-horses suffer from their cucumber as well as ourselves, despite the setting muzzle that it would be well for some of us we also should be endued with. Still, there could be no doubt there were two rattling good four-year-olds in training on Eiddleton Moor, and better still that the public were mistaken as to which was the best of them. Should the handicapper only form as false an estimate of the respective capabilities of Caterham and Phaeton as it was quite transparent 176 FROM POST TO FINISH. the racing world entertained, then the Two Thousand winner of last year must have the opportunity afforded him of winning a big race or two of that descrip- tion before the year was out. Great coups of this kind were things Cuthbert Elliston revelled in mapping out, but the worst of it was so far they had rarely owned anything at Riddleton that justi- fied the attempt to fly at high game. Usually they had to content themselves with small handicaps, over which, except at a very large outlay, only small sums could be won. To carry off the Csesarewitch or Cam- bridgeshire, and take sixty or seventy thousand pounds out of the Ring, was the dream of Elliston's life — a dream, by the way, that has begot many a gallant heart's undoing. Why cannot men recol- lect that backing horses is simply equi- valent to playing against the bank at Monaco? The pull of the tables must THE ELLISTONS AT HOME. 177 beat you, more especially in these days, when the bookmakers lay most inadequate prices. Fifty years ago, and the extinc- tion of prize-fighting seemed most im- probable. Fifty years hence, and there are signs abroad to show that Newmarket will have degenerated into a sort of Croy- don, and the Derby have dropped to the level of the present Chester Cup. What will they do in those days of ripened cant and hypocrisy? To howl your way to Heaven after the wont of the Salvation- ists, or to get there by " water " after the manner of the Blue Ribbon people, will be probably exploded. All species of sport have been condemned as cruel, and life generally be of the dullest and limpest description, when the Buddhist religion, now so much virtually in vogue, will have been actually proclaimed. The rising generation worship inanition, and really have no energy for vice; leading their VOL. I. N 178 FROM POST TO FINISH. placid little lives without pronounced views of any sort. We match not the dead men who bore us At a kiss, at a song, at a crime. Oh, no ! It is a tepid generation, with neither pluck to sin nor to pray. " I must ask you to write me a cheque before you go out, Cuthbert," said his wife, as they sat over a latish breakfast on a bright March morning, about the time that Jim Forrest was cementing his acquaintance with the Dancing Master, and beginning to accustom himself to that animal's unpleasant eccentricities. u Upon my soul, you seem to be always wanting cheques," retorted her husband, irritably. " You know that the balance at the bank has got to carry us very far into the year." " And you know that the rent, the butcher, the taxes, and such things must be paid," she rejoined, wearily. " I don't THE ELLISTONS AT HOME. 179 see myself why the horses shouldn't do something for us this spring. Caterham is by no means badly in for the City and Suburban — you said so yourself." "Yes; and didn't I tell you at the same time that we can't afford to expose him for such a paltry stake as we should have to contend with on that race ? The public have arrived at your conclusion also, and appropriated all the long prices. Considering the pains I and others have taken to educate the public, and de- monstrate to them the rashness of spe- culating before the owners have satisfied themselves, I am really astounded at their childlike confidence. Caterham will run ; but not quite so well as his backers an- ticipate." "What about that grey colt? The Two Thousand is a nice stake ; and for a very little outlay you might stand to win a tolerably round sum in bets. "Don't talk of that accursed brute; a 180 FROM POST TO FINISH. gold mine ! Who could do anything if he were not possessed with such a fiendish temper. The cheapest tiling to do with such brutes is to shoot them at once. Dispose of them, and you are still tempted to back them whenever they run. A bad-tempered horse, like a bad-tem- pered woman, is a thing to be out of as soon as may be." "I have known bad-tempered women, though at times a little trying, make their husbands rare good wives ; and a bad- tempered horse, that you know to be good, is always worth backing for a trifle. I have heard you say over and over again, that when they are in the mood their very temper makes them bad to beat." " The marrying a shrew, or the back- ing a savage, are two dangerous experi- ments at which the world only laughs when they recoil on your own head," observed Elliston, sententiously. "I, at all events, have been spared the former, THE ELLISTONS AT HOME. 181 Mary; and enjoyed the luck of a better wife than most men." A faint flush suffused Mrs. Elliston's faded cheeks at her husband's somewhat niggard praise. " Write me the cheque, Cuthbert," she said, as she rose and, crossing the room, laid her hand fondly on her husband's shoulder. " Also, follow my advice: let the Dancing Master take his chance, and mind my usual ten pounds is on him.'' u I will write you a cheque, Mary ; and mind, you must make it go as far as you can. As for the Dancing Master, if any- body likes to pay his expenses at New- market, he can run ; but I shan't. I don't think there'll be much opportunity of in- vesting your tenner." " It is as you will, Cuthbert, of course ; but don't forget me if he runs." sl All right, I'll recollect ; for the pre- sent, good-bye. If you're not going out I shall be home to dinner." 182 FROM POST TO FINISH. u You know Pm never out when you say that," she replied, softly. " Pooh ! *' he rejoined as he opened the door. " We're too old for sentiment now ; and jog along just as well as our neigh- bours without it." Mrs. Elliston sighed. As if a woman ever grows too old for sentiment ; and this man, remember, was her first and only love. 183 CHAPTER XII. A CLERICAL TEA-PARTY. Miss Rockingham, curiously enough, began to think a good deal about this Mr. Thorndyke. He was of a type she had never encountered before, if, indeed, she could be said to have as yet encoun- tered him. She did not as yet know whether to be interested in him, or shocked at his most unorthodox views. The way he mixed up things sacred and secular seemed almost profane in her eyes. A parson whom she knew had actually been known to play cricket with his parishioners after church, and though it was rarely he gave such practical testi- 184 FROM POST TO FINISH. mony as to his religious views, yet stoutly maintained there was no more harm in cricket than in country walks ; that all honest courting, to which young people are very wont to devote a portion of their Sabbath, could be carried on quite as well while looking on at such healthy, manly games as cricket and football as in tete-a- tete country walks ; in short, that Sunday was meant for innocent relaxation from toil and enjoyment as well as returning thanks to the Creator, and that people who held up their hands with horror at what they denounced as his impiety went to church in the morning to study their neighbours' bonnets, and devoted their afternoons to lying and scandalous con- versation. Such a clergyman as this was a phenomenon that made Ellen Rocking- ham open her eyes with amazement. Had she heard of or first seen Mr. Thorndyke at Cranley her mind would have been made up. She would have A CLERICAL TEA-PARTY. 185 pronounced him a priest of Baal, and shunned him accordingly, but clerical society was more tolerant in York, and, though very far from endorsing the ex- tremely broad views and muscular Chris- tainity of the Reverend John Thorn- dyke, yet they recognised him as an ener- getic, hardworking man, who did a great deal of good in his way, and was much liked and respected amongst his parish- ioners. It was true his way was not their way ; they could no more have hurled (no other word expresses it) those short, stirring addresses at the heads of their people than Thorndyke could have preached one of their (if polished) some- what monotonous discourses. Men who went to hear John Thorndyke felt no inclination to doze during the ten or fifteen minutes the nervous, fiery words fell from his lips ; words, not of denuncia- tion, as a rule, but of hope and promise, albeit he would rate the shortcomings of 186 FROM POST TO FINISH. his sheep with bitter scorn and irony when occasion required, and those sombre- fleeced delinquents winced as they took the scathing rebuke to themselves, and felt that they had earned it. Still his clerical brethren were com- pelled to admit one thing; his sermons might be unscholarly, undignified, vulgar rant, &c, and they were called all these, but there was nothing unorthodox in them, and his church was crammed. He preached extemporary, and though us- ually, not invariably, from a text of Scripture. He seldom brought a Bible into the pulpit, but never omitted to place his watch on the cushion. Ah ! in these days of infinite verbiage, if those who manage our political and religious affairs could only know the vir- tue of a watch — could St. Stephen's and the pulpit be induced to pour forth that flux of vapid garrulity with an eye on the hour-glass, methinks even they would feel A CLERICAL TEA-PARTY. 187 some shame that their platitudes should have so long vexed the ears of the nation. " I am going out to tea, mother, if you don't want me," said Ellen, one afternoon as the sun floated in at the somewhat dingy sitting-room window. " Mrs. Prim- ington has asked me, and says she has some people coming whom she is sure I should like to meet." " Pray do, child; it is good for you. It is not well at your years to be cooped up in such narrow quarters as this. Dear Gerald, he did his best for us, and I don't complain. But," she continued, with a faint smile, " it comes hard, dear, after having ruled it so long at Cranley Chase." Poor Ellen looked round the room sor- rowfully ; she had done the best she could to make it tasteful. It showed all the delicate touches of a woman's hand in its arrangements, in the vases of bright spring flowers, put artistically together, 188 FROM POST TO FINISH. as only the deft fingers of the refined woman or the professional florist are capable of. Still, modest lodgings and narrow means can in no manner be brought to replace your own chateau, with its conservatories, conjoined with lavish expenditure, by any feminine artifice. Mrs. Rockingham bore up bravely against her altered fortunes ; but it was scarcely to be supposed she would not make querulous moans at times over the hardness of her lot. Besides, he for whom she had suffered so long and battled so bravely to keep things together had gone to his rest; and there were times when the widow craved earnestly for the time when she might be laid by his side. With Ellen it was different. She was young, and made of sterner stuff. The Puritan spirit she so cherished nerved her for her struggle with the world. i ' Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth" was a text ever on her lips, and she had wound A CLERICAL TEA-PARTY. 189 herself up to the belief that she was destined to make expiation for her father's sin. It is wives and daughters who, for the most part, do penance when their male belongings have to face the upshot of backing hopes against figures, in trying to break the ring or the bank at Monte Carlo. "It is very odd we don't hear from Gerald," remarked Mrs. Rockingham. " We must be patient, mother," replied Ellen, settling her bonnet at the glass above the mantelpiece. " Remember, he was never a good correspondent, and now, poor boy, he has to set to work to earn his living. It would come hard upon most boys ; but it comes doubly hard upon such as he. Facing the world in grim earnest, I fear Gerald is going through an ordeal such as he don't much care to talk about. And yet, mother, he was a Rockingham every inch, and faced disaster as boldly as any one of our race 190 FROM POST TO FINISH. when it came. I have railed at him often for his indolence and his absorption in sporting pursuits ; but I felt proud of him that day he knew he was a beggar and his inheritance a myth.' , The girl's face flushed, and her dark eyes sparkled as she recalled that scene in the library, in which her brother had jumped at a bound from boy to manhood — the self-possessed courteous irony with which he had dismissed Cuthbert Elliston. She had thought of him as a mere boy up to that, as a girl of twenty naturally does regard a brother of eighteen ; but hence- forth she acknowledged him as the head of the family, and felt that Gerald's will and Gerald's word would be law. It was wrong and unchristianlike to hate any one she knew; but Ellen was painfully aware that her feelings with regard to Cuthbert Elliston would scarcely stand analysis from that point. When she arrived at Mrs. Primington's A CLERICAL TEA-PARTY. 191 she found some three or four ladies, who, like her hostess, were rather Calvinistic in their religious views, also Mr. Brushley, the Rector of St. Olave's, and his curate, both gentlemen of as Evangelical a turn of mind as was compatible with clergy- men who officiated within the shadow of the mighty Minster. The eccentricities of the Rev. John Thorndyke were a fa- vourite topic with these good folks, generally ending in the opinion that no good could come permanently from such vulgarising of his sacred functions. It is, so to speak, my dear Mrs. Prim- ington, like the doings of a mountebank at a fair. Mr. Thorndyke attracts people to his church because they hope to be amused ; they are amused, but you don't mean to tell me such addresses as his — sermons they can't be called — arouse any real religious feeling. Sermons should be thoughtfully written out, then as thought- fully read. Mr. Thorndyke apparently 192 FROM POST TO FINISH. regards them as after-dinner speeches, improved by a little jocularity." c * I don't think that is quite a fair sum- up of Mr. Thorndyke's sermons. I have only, it is true, heard him once. He is not conventional, but there is certainly no levity in his discourse," observed Miss Rockingham. "Dear me," interrupted Mrs. Priming- ton, " I hope I haven't done wrong, but Canon Durnsford, the new canon, you know, expressed such curiosity about Mr. Thorndyke that I promised to ask him here to meet him to-day. You surely none of you object ? " " My dear madam," replied Mr. Brush- ley, unctuously, "it is our lot to meet many people in this world of whom we by no means approve, but it is our duty to stifle our feelings. We can never tell what power to do good may be vouch- safed us. The new canon, Mr. Durnsford, A CLERICAL TEA-PARTY. 193 you said ? Yes, decidedly I shall be glad to make Durnsford's acquaintance." If he did not quite hold with their opinions, Mr. Brushley highly appreciated the Cathedral dons in a social point of view, and secretly and sadly admitted that wines and the art of cookery were better understood by them than by those of his own way of thinking. The canon and Thorndyke arrived almost simultaneously, and afforded a somewhat marked contrast. The Honour- able and Reverend Alfred Durnsford was very different from the plump, rubicund priest that Mr. Brushley had pictured him. The tall, slight, aristocratic-looking new canon, with the suave, polished manner of a thorough man of the world, was by no means what the Rector of St. Olave's had imagined him ; and the Rev. Mr. Brushley felt intuitively it was just possible that he and the courteous canon might not altogether amalgamate. He VOL. I. O 194 FROM POST TO FINISH. fancied he detected a slight touch of sar- casm in the soft-toned voice of the new dignitary, and sarcasm was a thing that Mr. Brushley both imperfectly understood and felt no little afraid of. Better, he thought, the bold outspoken utterances of John Thorndyke than this quiet, smooth, veiled speech, the real meaning of which he very imperfectly conjectured. It was odd, Mr. Brushley could not account for it, and yet before five minutes had elapsed he was conscious of being ill at ease with Mr. Durnsford. He felt that the newcomer saw through him, that he penetrated the hypocrisy of his character, and knew him for the sham he really was, while to his intense disgust he saw the canon was unmistakeably attracted to blunt outspoken John Thorndyke. There was no mistaking John Thorndyke for anything but a gentleman. Ellen Eock- ingham, much as she mistrusted him as a clergyman, had no misgivings on that A CLERICAL TEA-PARTY. 195 point; as regarded the Rev. Mr. Brushley, she preferred that question should remain in abeyance. "lam told, Mr. Thorndyke, that you are great at cricket, and have rather a taste for field sports," observed the canon, quietly, as he sipped his tea ; "if so, you are fortunate in finding your life cast in, perhaps, the most sporting county in England." u Great at cricket, ah!'' rejoined Thorn- dyke, laughing ; u I am afraid that's a thing of the past. I was in the Oxford Eleven ; but I haven't the time to practise now, and only get a game now and again with my parishioners. If they only give me time to get my eye in, I can make it lively cricket yet. As for sport, I enjoy a gallop with the York and Ainsty, or a day's gunning, on the rare occasions it's my luck to get one, as much as ever ; and Mr. Durnsford," he continued, with a twinkle in his eye, " if I was only sure 2 196 FEOM POST TO FINISH. His Grace of York wouldn't hear of it, I think I could shout with the best of them on the Town Moor at seeing i t' Leger ' won." " You surely would never bring such a scandal on the cloth as to be present at a race-meeting," exclaimed Mr. Brushley. " It's not exactly the scandal, it's the wigging from the archbishop I am afraid of," replied Thorndyke, demurely. " Which, I'll venture to say, you'll never get," observed the canon, smiling ; " you were born a quarter of a century too late." " And yet there are people who tell me I am too advanced in my views." * l The sporting parson is quite incom- patible with the present state of religious thought," said Mr. Brushley, pompously. u And what should you define to be the present state of religious thought?" asked the canon, softly, pouncing upon his victim in true purring feline fashion. A CLERICAL TEA-PARTY. 197 Miss Rockingham awaited with much interest her pastor's reply to this question. " The phase of religious thought now dominating these isles might be explained — er — you understand, as a sort of craving — in short, an earnest desire for — for " Quite so," murmured the canon. " Desire — thirst, I might say, for " €i A little reality," interrupted Thorn- dyke. ei For — for a higher enlightenment," said Mr. Brushle}^ triumphantly. a Which, when interpreted, means?" inquired the canon. u An elevation of the spirit," quoth Mr. Brushley. "An elimination of humbug," said John Thorndyke, drily but audibly. " I refuse to recognise such a word, sir, in connection with religion," rejoined Mr. Brushley, loftily. " In connection with true religion, cer- 198 PROM POST TO FINISH. tainly, but there is a good deal of spurious coin in circulation." u And your definition, Mr. Thorndyke?" " Has not yet taken shape, but you may lay it down as an axiom that it is cant that makes religion distasteful. Good-bye, Mrs. Primington ; good-bye Miss Rockingham. Glad to have made your acquaintance, Mr. Durnsford." With which somewhat abrupt adieux Thorn- dyke took his departure. Mr. Brushley walked away with a vague consciousness of not having been altogether a success in the canon's eyes, while Miss Rockingham, as she strolled homewards, was fain to admit to herself that her favourite pastor had not been so lucid as was desirable on the occasion. 199 CHAPTER XIII. cC HE GAVE YOU THAT RING." It suddenly occurred to Miss Rockingham that she was in need of some minor feminine trappings, and she accordingly wended her way to Coney Street in quest of them. Grey son's was undoubtedly the principal establishment that dealt in all such articles, and thither Miss Rockingham repaired. There were a good many people in the shop, and the attendants had their hands pretty full. Miss Rockingham took a chair, and quietly waited till some one was at leisure to attend to her. She had not to wait long, for a trim, auburn-haired damsel glided behind the counter, and 200 FROM POST TO FINISH. demurely inquired "What she should show the lady ! " Miss Rockingham gave her orders, and then glanced at the girl who was serving her. She was somewhat struck with her appearance, and more still with her manner. The girl gave the idea of being considerably above her station, and Ellen wondered she had not noticed her before. " Have you been here long ? " inquired Miss Rockingham, as she turned over a box of gloves. " I don't think you ever served me before." " I am not often in the shop," replied Dollie, with the slightest possible elevation of the head ; " I don't belong to it. Though , when I am staying with my uncle, and they are busy, as they are to-day, I often run in and help. Are those gloves at all the shade you require ? " "Ah! You're a niece of Mr. Greyson's. Why you must be Dollie Greyson, the daughter of the trainer. I have heard " HE GAVE YOU THAT RING." 201 people talk of your riding," said Miss Rockingham, with a slight touch of hauteur in her tones. She might well say that, for she had heard her brother be considerably more enthusiastic on the subject of Dollie's riding than she conceived was at all necessary. She had said nothing about it, but had mentally pronounced Dollie a forward minx, and wondered whether Gerald was likely to make a fool of him- self about the girl, and Miss Rockingham was fain to admit that Dollie was pretty enough to turn the head of an older man than her brother. She knew, moreover, that riding-men were always fascinated by a good horsewoman, and, as these thoughts shot through her mind, Miss Rockingham's eye fell upon the ring which sparkled on the third finger of Dollie's little hand. "A souvenir of Phaeton's Leger, I presume," remarked Ellen, a little sharply. 202 FROM POST TO FINTSH. " I hear, Miss Grey son, that your father won a great deal of money over it." The blood rushed to the girl's face as Ellen lightly touched the tell-tale ring, and Miss Rockingham, as she marked it, remembered in an instant that Gerald had won some money over the race, and came to a rapid conclusion as to whose gift the souvenir was. It was but a second or two before Dollie drew herself up and replied defiantly, " You are right, Miss Rockingham ; it was given me in memory of Phaeton's Leger." " You know my name ! " exclaimed Ellen. " I suppose we are pretty well known by sight, at all events in and around York. Rumour may have told you that we also have our souvenir of Phaeton's Leger." " I am sorry, very sorry," said Dollie, in a low tone. " I heard that the race was disastrous to you and yours.'' "We want no pity," replied Ellen, " HE GAVE YOU THAT RING." 203 haughtily. "We are not wont to make moan when the world goes against us. FU take these, Miss Greyson, if you will be good enough to twist them up in paper for me." Dollie said nothing as she deftly packed up Miss Rockingham's trifling purchases, but as she handed them across the counter could not resist murmuring in low tones, " Have you heard of your brother lately, Miss Rockingham ? " " What ! You know him ! It was he who gave you that ring ! '' exclaimed Ellen, quickly. " Yes, I do know him, and he did give me this ring," returned Dollie, and rais- ing her long-lashed grey eyes boldly to her interlocutor's face. " I should advise you not to accept such courtesies from one in such a different position from your own, however young he may be. You must be aware it can mean nothing. You will find yourself 204 FROM POST TO FINISH. talked about in a way most irritating to your self-esteem if you are not careful." Dollie could stand this assumption of immense superiority no longer. " Your brother has been very kind to me," she said, "but I don't think he sets quite so high a value as you do upon his present position." a You have seen him and know what he is doing?" interrupted Ellen, eagerly. " I saw him a few days back, and know what he is doing," returned Dollie, sententiously ; " but farther than that he is well I am at liberty to tell you nothing.' ' Miss Rockingham bent her head haughtily, and swept out of the shop. Anxious as she was to know what her brother was doing she would not stoop to beg information on that point from the trainer's daughter. She felt indignant that this girl should be the confidant of her brother's plans while his mother and sister ei HE GAVE YOU THAT RING." 205 did not even know where he was. What could Gerald be thinking of, taking a chit of a girl of this class as his adviser ? If she could but see him to expostulate with him on his folly ! And then it flashed across Miss Rockingham that their father's death and the ruin that had followed had changed Gerald from a boy to a man, that he had taken counsel from no one since, but had persistently thought and acted for himself. There was not much after all in his having given this girl a ring, considering he had won a good bit of money, that is for him, over a horse trained by her father, but it was strange she should know all about his movements, and have seen him so lately. Had she met him by accident, or was it design? And what could he be doing ? He had recognised the fact that he had got his living to earn — he had told them so when he left them — and in what manner had he set about it? No one could be 206 FROM POST TO FINISH. more conscious of the difficulty that one brought up as he had been would have in doing so. And Miss Rockingham's eyes were quite as open to that difficulty as his own. In vain she puzzled, on her home- ward walk, as to what he might be doing, and now half regretted that she had not swallowed her pride and tried to learn more from Dollie Grey son. Had she better tell her mother what she had heard ? But then there was so very little to tell. Further than that, she had been told by a person who had seen him lately that he was well. No. Upon the whole Ellen Rockingham decided to keep this meagre bit , of news to herself. Her mother fretted quite enough about not hearing from Gerald as it was, and it was better not to revive the subject. And what in the mean time were Dollie's reflections on her meeting with Miss Rockingham ? She had taken the opportunity of introducing herself to that 207 young lady, and had been most decidedly anxious to produce a favourable impres- sion, and to establish in some sort an acquaintance with her; but she had not been prepared for the detection of her ring, and the very rapid conclusion that Miss Eockingham had come to concern- ing it. She was indignant at the haughty manner in which Ellen ignored the pos- sibility of there being anything serious in the attentions of a young man in Gerald's position to a girl in her's. Posi- tion, forsooth ! And Gerald at that pre- sent moment a servant in her father's stables ! What would Miss Rockingham, who now looked upon her with such dis- dain, have thought, could she have known that fact ? And Dollie, smarting under that young lady's hauteur, ground her little white teeth, and half wished she had thrown back the taunt in her face. She was glad though, immediately after, that for Gerald's sake she had refrained. 208 FROM POST TO FINISH. u She didn't quite like seeing his ring on my finger," she murmured, with a little grimace of exultation; " and she liked still less my knowing where he was and what he was doing. And still less she liked," added Dolly, with a little trium- phant toss of her head, " my refusal to tell her anything about it; warning me, indeed! not to accept courtesies from him. I wonder what she would have said if she had known that I am engaged to him. Get myself talked about ! When I am talked about in connection with Gerald I think Miss Rockingham's eyes will open a good deal wider than they did this morning." Dollie had come down from Riddleton Moor to procure some books and music and other things not obtainable nearer than York; indeed, the Greysons paid peri- odical visits to that city to purchase all those articles which the home farm failed to produce, and upon such occasions put " HE GAVE YOU THAT RING." 209 up invariably at John Greyson's in Coney Street. Dollie had, of course, known Miss Rockingham perfectly by sight for some time, but as that young lady, though a very fair horsewoman, set her face against hunting as unfeminine, Miss Grey- son had never before attracted Ellen's attention. However, had Miss Rocking- ham's manner been ever so conciliatory, Dollie would have told her no more about Gerald than she had done. She it was who had counselled his present line of life ; and though she saw no way in which he was more likely to make money, and though her father's praises of "Jim Forrest" showed her judgment to have been sound on this point, still, she rather felt the position in which her lover was now placed ; between the stable-boy, quite at the bottom of his profession, and the crack jockey, there is a wide gulf — a gulf, too, as she well knew, not always to be bridged — it being often a considerable time be- VOL. I. P 210 FROM POST TO FINISH. fore a lad is afforded an opportunity of riding in public, and even then is apt to be put upon a horse which gives him little chance of distinguishing himself. It might be long enough before Gerald got his opening. Dollie heard, too, plenty of talk about the downfall of the Rockinghams. The late Squire had been a popular man, as a gallant, open-handed sportsman is sure to be in the many-acred county ; and she heard much regret expressed that Cranley Chase had passed away from the old family. The presence of Mrs. Rocking- ham and her daughter in the city kept these rumours alive ; while the fact that the victory of the outsider Phaeton on Doncaster Moor had been the coup de grace to the dashing lord of Cranley Chase made a turf romance that had special interest for the sporting popula- tion of York and its neighbourhood Dollie was destined to overhear mar " HE GAVE YOU THAT RING." 211 a bitter comment on her father's conduct. " Dal it all, the Squire had been a good friend to un always. It was downright mean of old Bill Greyson not to give t' Squire a hint to save himsel over the second string." Whispers were afloat, too, that Pearson and Cuthbert Elliston, leading patrons of Greyson's stable, had been amongst the biggest winners over the race, and that neither of these should have given the dead man a hint seemed monstrous in the eyes of Yorkshire. Both were well known in the county, and both were far from popular. Even his inti- mates were wont to say there was no trusting Cuddie Elliston, while, as for Sam Pearson, it was a current saying that " No one had ever bested him." Still, Yorkshire has a certain respect for this faculty ; and though Pearson was regarded as a man who carried it rather far, and would have skinned his own P2 212 FROM POST TO FINISH. brother upon occasion, yet public opinion did not get much farther regarding him than that " Lawyer Pearson knew his way about; and you'd to get up main early in the morning to get a point the best of linn." It was right and natural that a lawyer should overreach you if he could; and that a Yorkshireman should want the best of a bargain in horseflesh, or some undue advantage in a wager, was all in the ordering of things. Pearson was not only tolerably free-handed but affected a geniality of manner which, if not quite current coin, was at all events near enough to pass as such. With Elliston the case was different : he was a sharp, tricky practitioner, not even to be trusted by his friends, endowed with a bitter, jibing tongue, that had rarely good to say of any one. Like most gamblers, he was lavish of his money when fortune smiled; but then he spent it chiefly on " HE GAVE YOU THAT RING." 213 himself. In short, there was usually little satisfaction manifested amongst racing-men at the success of Greyson's stable, of which Cuddie Elliston was the guiding star ; he and his partner Pearson were wont to keep their 6t good things " strictly to themselves ; and, above all, did they object to the public participating in their coups. Such remarks as these about her father and his principal employers made DolhVs ears tingle. Mr. Greyson would have been an honest trainer had his patrons been of that way of thinking ; but with them it was simply a case of which way most money was to be made over a race, and Bill Greyson consequently was con- tinually expending all his skill in pre- paring horses for contests which their owners had no intention of allowing them to win. The odium of such proceedings natur- 214 FROM POST TO FINISH. ally attached itself to the Biddleton trainer, and Dollie's father bore an un- mistakeably shy reputation in conse- quence. 215 CHAPTER XIV. TURF TACTICS. Dollie had returned from York not a little put out with all the gossip she had chanced to hear about her father. She, of course, knew all about the horses in his charge. She followed their fortunes in the papers, and knew that they did not always win when expected to do so, but she was shocked at the idea that her father should be deemed capable of not doing his very best with them. She was much distressed that the poor Squire should not have been told about Phaeton last year. She had heard her father say that he thought he should " take the Leger," but she, like the public in gene- 216 FROM POST TO FINISH. ral, supposed he meant with Caterham. She knew that the Squire had died a ruined man, but she had not understood before that the clever finessing of her father and his employers had dealt him the finishing blow. She remembered Alister Rockingham when she was quite a little girl, a tall handsome man, with always a pleasant word for her and her mother. He had a few horses at Riddle- ton in those days, the management of which, though Dollie did not know it, was principally left to Cuthbert Elliston, and it was their questionable running which had led to his leaving Greyson's stable. Then, as now, the trainer bore the blame, which accrued simply from carrying out Elliston's instructions. Later the Squire had an inkling of the truth, and though he never again sent any horses to Riddleton, was always on friendly terms with Greyson, and more than once indebted to him for a hint at the eleventh TURF TACTICS. 217 hour. It was this had made him so in- credulous about Phaeton. So far he was right : Caterham was the best horse of the two, but the other was just good enough to win. Still the Squire made sure that if. such a bit of turf tactics was about to be attempted he should have had a hint from Greyson, and in default of that stood stanchly by Caterham, with the dis- astrous result we have seen. A day or two after her return her father observed : " Mind you have a tidy breakfast for us to-morrow, lass. Mr. Elliston and Pearson are coming to have a look at the horses in the morning, and I suppose they'll let me know then what they really want. The nags are very well, and will pick up a good race or two this spring, if they're wanted." "I should have thought, father, men who kept racehorses were always anxious to take all the prizes within their reach, if only for the swagger of the thing." 218 FROM POST TO FINISH. Bill Grey son stared for a moment at his daughter in sheer astonishment that a child of his could still be so innocent with regard to the intricacies of the turf and the ways of its votaries. ei Yes, Dollie, I suppose they do like all the flourish and swagger of pulling off a big race when they are young, but they very soon cease to care about bringing down a royal stag unless there's a lot of meat on the carcase. Do you understand me ? " 6i I think so. You mean men like Mr. Elliston and Mr. Pearson don't care to win races unless they can win a lot of money over it." " Just so, child. Men like Mr. Elliston and Pearson, like the man you were read- ing to us about the other night, s fight for their own hand,' and don't care much about the public," replied the trainer, sententiously. " But, father, surely this is very un- TURF TACTICS. 219 satisfactory for you ? " said the girl, raising her large grey eyes to his face. " I've got to get my living, girl," replied Grey son, doggedly; " and trainers and jockeys, like other servants, have to do as they are told. Our soldiers and sailors get hampered in that respect, too, I'm told," and so saying the trainer walked away. Dollie pondered a good deal over her father's last remark. He was not alto- gether a free agent then, but in the hands of his employers, and Dollie had what the people in York said concerning them still ringing in her ears. William Grey- son was indeed more in their power than his daughter could guess. Like many of his class he had passed through times of impecuniosity, and Mr. Pearson, far too shrewd a man not to buy any one it was worth his while to have under his thumb, had been only too happy to ac- commodate the trainer with a loan. Loans 220 FROM POST TO FINISH. from Lawyer Pearson were of that kind that one never settled. Interest ran on. You were begged not to trouble yourself about it, and the millstone was round your neck in an incredibly short time. And now occurred to Dollie another very awkward circumstance in connection with the visits of Messrs. Elliston and Pearson to Riddleton Moor. Both these gentlemen knew Gerald Rockingham, and the probability was that they would re- cognise him under the guise of Jim Forrest, the stable-lad. Why had she never thought of this most likely occur- rence when advising Gerald to seek service with her father ? Surely it was the very last training-stable in England in which to attempt the bold stroke to fortune he aimed at. But the girl could not resist the temptation of seeing her lover constantly, and that had blinded her to the palpable danger that was now on the verge of occurring. Dollie knew TURF TACTICS. 221 both Cutlibert Elliston and Sam Pearson, although she had seen little of them during the last three years, in which she had principally resided at York with her uncle for educational purposes ; but the question now was, What was Gerald to do ? See him she must, and yet that was not so easy without attracting attention. Still, warned of the advent of that cousin, for whom she knew he nourished undying animosity, Dollie knew he must be. It would be absurd to suppose that this contingency had not suggested itself to the lovers previously, and it had been arranged between them that Gerald was to have due warning. It was not quite so easy for the girl to see Gerald alone. If Miss Dollie were once seen to favour one of the stable-lads, tongues would run riot on Eiddleton Moor, and let the thing once reach the ears of old Grey son and the dismissal of the offender would be both prompt and sum- 222 FROM POST TO FINISH. mary. Still, the supineness of her mother gave the girl more opportunity than she would otherwise have enjoyed, and whether it's Well to sever, Two fond hearts for ever, as the song says, I can't say, but they are a little difficult to keep apart in these times. Dollie found means to let her lover know that he must meet her at the low fence at the bottom of the orchard, which, abutting on a portion of the stables, was not liable to attract attention, and had occasionally served them in such stead before. Their meetings had naturally been rare, though they got a glimpse of each other daily, and in one's teens, when smitten by the love god's arrows, that goes for much. " Gerald," she said, "I can only snatch a few moments to talk to you — you know how risky our meeting is, and that if TURF TACTICS. 223 my father had any suspicion of the terms we stand upon he would no longer hear of your holding your present position. Stop, don't interrupt me," she continued, as he made a sign of remonstrance ; " what we have rather feared is about to take place. Mr. Elliston and his partner are coming to see the horses to-morrow morn- ing ! " " Which comes to the same thing. Your father, of course, will know all about it ; it is impossible that my cousin and Pear- son will not recognise me." " Not necessarily," replied Dollie. " Your companions and even yourself swathe your throats these chilly spring mornings pretty closely in woollen com- forters. You must take an extra turn or two with your wraps to-morrow. I think, then, if you pull your cap well down over your brows, the complete change in your dress, and the idea of finding you in such a position being so utterly unexpected, 224 FROM POST TO FINISH. will prevent any recognition on their part. Bear in mind, too, the owners come down to see their horses, and take very- little heed of the boys that ride them. Besides, they both of them detest the Dancing Master, and are not very likely to take much notice of him. He cost them a deal of money last year, and I heard Mr. Elliston say that it was far cheaper to shoot brutes like that than to sell them, as you might then be tempted to back them once more on the strength of what they could do, and in defiance of your being aware that they wouldn't do it — in public." " It's all very well for you to argue like that, Dollie ; but no man fond of horses could resist looking over the Danc- ing Master just now. He's in the bloom of condition ; Caterham won the Guineas, and Phaeton scored the Leger ; yet, when it comes to looks, they really are not in it with that queer-tempered grey, and what's TURF TACTICS. 225 more, would not be in it either when it comes to galloping, if the villain would only try." " Does he go any better with you, Gerald?" "Well, it's hard to say; there are mornings when he will stride along as kindly as possible, and be as nice a horse as a man can care to ride. Then, per- haps, the next day neither I nor any one else can do anything with him. He will always, I should think, be a very danger- ous horse to put money on. I suppose I must follow your advice, and chance not being recognised ; but I fancy to-morrow morning will see the termination of my engagement on Riddleton Moor ; " and Gerald looked rather sentimentally across the fence into Dollie's charming face. " Nonsense ! " she replied ; u do as I tell you, and it will be all right. If it could be avoided, no doubt it would be better ; but it is a contingency that you were sure to VOL. I. q 226 EROM POST TO FINISH. have to face sooner or later ; and now I must run away, I dare not stay longer. Good-bye, Gerald, dearest ; and remember one thing, let nothing induce you to open your lips if possible; but if you must speak, you cannot be too brief and husky." With which parting advice Dollie Greyson kissed her hand and sped up the orchard. The next morning saw Gerald en- veloped in many folds of woollen com- forters, with cap slouched down and shoulders hunched up, on the back of the Dancing Master, wending his way with his fellows to the far side of Riddleton Moor. He complained to them in thick husky tones of the chilliness of the moor, and affected as much as possible to be suffering from a severe cold. The string had been leisurely walking about some time before Bill Greyson was seen driving a small waggonette across the turf towards them ; in his two companions Gerald re- TUKF TACTICS. 227 cognised at a glance the two men whose observation he was so anxious to escape. "The horses are all well, you say, Grey son, but I don't know that there is much to be done with them. Caterham and Phaeton are so thoroughly exposed that they will have to run a bye or two before they get well into a handicap. There's no money in cup-racing, and Pearson and myself infinitely prefer swelling our banker's account to decorat- ing our sideboards." " Caterham, sir, would have a very fair chance of the City and Suburban," said the trainer, drily. " Precisely what the public think, Grey son, and the public accordingly will have one more lesson about the impru- dence of jumping to erroneous conclusions. Having, in their anxiety to grow rich, backed the winner of the Guineas, they will have the satisfaction of learning that this isn't his race, and paying their money Q2 228 FROM POST TO FINISH. accordingly. Ah ! you have that ill- tempered grey brute out, I see. Of course he is well — that sort always are. Like bad tempered men, their contrariness keeps them in health. He don't improve in his manners ? " "No, sir," replied the trainer. "I suppose, though, he had better go to New- market on the off chance. Though I'm afraid we shan't take the Two Thousand this year." " He don't go at my expense," sneered Cuthbert Elliston ; " and, what's more, I don't intend the brute to eat at my ex- pense either much longer. If Pearson here likes to send him, well and good ; but I don't suppose he means to throw money away more than myself." " No," replied the lawyer, laughing ; u I've no money to spend in travelling a trick horse about the country. The fact is, Bill, we are both going for Pibroch. Sir Marmaduke's got the money down TURE TACTICS. 229 in earnest, and declares he will win the length of a street." "Well, sir," replied the trainer, quietly, "it's a pity not to run the Dancing Master. He's very fit and well just now ; it's a big stake to pick up, and he might take it into his head to do his best. His sort do at times— more especially when you don't back 'em " " Now, look here," replied Elliston, sharply, ' l let's know at once what you're driving at. What are you trying to per- suade me to send that worthless brute to Newmarket for ? " "Why, to tell you the truth, Mr. Elliston, I've got a thousand to thirty about him. I shall probably be able to hedge if he starts, and thereby save my thirty pound." " Ah ! you want to save your thirty pound at my expense. We will think about it. Meanwhile let's see him gallop.'' 230 FROM POST TO FINISH. Pulling up, and handing the reins to Cuthbert Elliston, Grey son got out of the waggonette, walked across, and gave a few directions to the head boy. U A good half-speed gallop, William," said he, " and bustle 'em up a bit in the last half-mile." The string got into Indian file, Joe Butters, on last year's Leger winner, leading ; Caterham laid next, and a very useful five-year plater, who had done the stable yeoman's service, followed, while the Dancing Master, with Jim Forrest in ■ the saddle, closed the procession. Intent more upon concealing his identit} 7 " than the business in hand, Jim was as nearly as possible deposited on the broad of his back as Butters gave the signal to go. The Dancing Master resjDonded to the pres- sure of his rider's knees by a plunge and a couple of buck jumps that would have proved too much for most lads, and landed Jim Forrest on the grey's neck. TUKF TACTICS. 231 " You haven't improved that amiable brute's temper an atom,'' sneered Elliston, in those sharp, clear, acid tones that had superseded the soft, trainant accents of his younger days; " and putting up such a young duffer as that to ride him is not likely to make him more tractable/ 5 16 He's not a bad boy, sir," replied the trainer, quietly; u but that grey colt's rather too much for any of 'em." " By Heaven, he means going now ! " exclaimed Pearson, as the Dancing Master, after shaking his head rather seriously, as if taking in the position of affairs, took hold of his bit and dashed furiously in pursuit. That he should speedily overhaul his leaders was nothing, they were only going half speed, and it was quite evident that it was just all Jim could do to prevent the grey getting clean away with him. Still, Pearson and Ellis- ton knew a galloper when they saw one, and the long, low, raking stride, and the 232 FROM POST TO FINISH. way he ran up to his horses, impressed them strongly. " By Jove ! " said Pearson, " temper or no temper, a mover like that can never be said to be quite out of the race." "Yes, he covers ground when he be- gins. But you don't suppose at New- market that they're going to canter at starting just to suit his convenience, do you ? Why, they would have been half way to the winning-post before the grey beggar thought it was time to begin. Hah ! Look at him now ! Oh, you beauty ! A platoon of musketry in the home paddock is about what you're fit for." As the last words escaped his lips, the Dancing Master stopped as abruptly as he had started, and commenced to kick, and when he once more condescended to resume galloping his stable companions were finishing at racing pace. Jim For- rest, with a view to escaping observation, stopped his ill-tempered charge some dis- TURF TACTICS. 233 tance below the point where the others had pulled up, and walked him slowly back the far side of the gallop. " Well, Grey son, they all look well and flourishing, but I don't see any oppor- tunity of slipping them just yet ; as I said before, the public have helped themselves to all the money about the City and Suburban — and I hope the public will enjoy the result. We must wait for our chance. It will come before the year is out. As for- that grey devil, Tm not going to pay his train to Newmarket." is Pity, too, sir," said the trainer, "not to have a cut at such a big stake on the off chance." " No, Greyson ; you are very consider- ate, but I'm not going to pay insurance on your thirty sovereigns. Stop ! I'll tell you what I'll do with you. If you choose to pay the brute's expenses you may. If he wins I'll take the stakes, but the horse shall be yours. Remember, the winner 234 FROM POST TO FINISH. of the Two Thousand will be worth money, and if you take my advice you'll part with him to the first man that makes a decent offer." " Done, Mr. Elliston. It won't be the first hundred I've made a big hole in by taking long odds ; but still, what with the thousand I shall stand to win, and what the horse will be worth if he does win, it's good enough to chance." " Glad you think so. I shouldn't have thought it so myself; but there is one thing you have rather overlooked — you will find it difficult to get any one to ride — all the jockeys worth having are en- gaged." " That don't matter, sir," replied Grey- son, as he got into the waggonette and resumed the reins. " In a case like this it's no use wearing money. I shall just put one of the lads up. Jockeys as a rule can't do much with a colt like the Danc- ing Master. If that horse is to win he'll TURF TACTICS. 235 have to do it himself; he's pretty certain to decline either assistance or interference. The only orders I should give the best man in England would be, ' Get well off, and then leave him alone.' And now, gentlemen, I should think you're about ready for breakfast." Arrived at the house, Greyson ushered his guests into the dining-room, the table of which was spread with all the substan- tial luxuries of a genuine Yorkshire breakfast, — home-smoked hams, game pie, kippered salmon, hot rolls, new-laid eggs, &c, with Mrs. Greyson, radiant in smiles and ribbons, presiding at the tea equipage. Like other invalids one has met, she could always make an effort for company. The gentlemen were both old friends of hers, and Elliston, indeed, not a little of a favourite. The sneering manner, habitual to him in talking to her husband, he entirely dropped in speaking to Mrs. Greyson ; and Cuthbert Elliston's tongue 236 FROM POST TO FINISH. had by no means lost its cunning when it came to charming a woman's ear. He gave a slight start of astonishment when Mrs. Greyson presented him to her daughter. He had not seen Dollie for the last three or four years, and in the pretty, bright-haired girl, with her trim figure and perfectly possessed manner, he could see no trace of the wild little hoyden only hazily remembered. " And so you are Dollie ! " said he, gazing at her with a bold stare of admira- tion which brought the blood faintly to her face. " Upon my soul, Greyson, I congratulate you. I never dreamt that the little tomboy of a few years back would grow up so pretty a girl. Pray, are you as fond of schooling the young horses as you used to be ? " " I don't think I ride any worse," re- plied Dollie. M I can certainly say my nerve is as good as ever." " Yes," said her father, fondly ; " she TTJRF TACTICS. 237 finished in the first flight with the York and Ainsty more than once last winter." " Ah," said Elliston; " what, you were the Miss Greyson that was often out with them when they met on the York side? I never had a turn with them myself, and always supposed it was some cousin of yours, a daughter of the Coney Street fellow. Gad ! with that red-gold hair, those dark curly eye-lashes, and a neat- fitting habit, you must have made wild work with the young bloods of the York and Ainsty." " I don't know much about that, Mr. Elliston," replied the girl, laughing. " They were all civil and courteous enough to me in the hunting field — old and young — ever willing to do me a good turn, show me an easy place, or holloa to me not to try something beyond my powers. Will you take some more tea? — That ham, Mr. Pearson, is of mother's 238 FROM POST TO I INISH. own curing, and we rather pique ourselves upon our hams at Riddleton.'' " First-rate ham, Miss Greyson ; and that's about the best game pie I've peeped into, Bill, for many a long day. God bless my soul ! " chuckled the sporting attorney; "if the 'good things' on the top of the moor were only half as good as those in the dining-room at the bottom, what millionaires we should all be ! Dear me," he added, addressing the trainer; " only think of the good things that we two have not only stood in but pulled off. We have made a little bit, Bill ; but what's the use of a little bit ? — we wanted a tidy house down here, then a moor in Scotland, then a pretty comfortable shanty in London. And that's where it was — we always play for too much; 'twas always either that Scotch moor or that town house that beat us ; turf-gambling is like building card-houses — you never TURF TACTICS. 239 know when to stop; you get the third storey up with infinite trouble, and you always go for that fourth storey, and down the whole thing conies, and you have to begin again. There's a time when I could have gone clean out of the business with twenty thousand in my pocket. I've seen many a bitter day since then, and would be glad now to get out of it for half the amount." " Just the way with all you half- plucked ones," rejoined Elliston, jeer- ingly. u I play for the lot, and mean to have it yet. We'll be rum customers to tackle, Sam, when the autumn handicaps come round. Mark me, if we're not." u Yes, Mrs. Greyson, just one more cup of tea ; and, I can't help it, but I must positively ask Miss Dollie there for another rasher of ham. What with the way you cure 'em, ma'am, and the Riddleton air, I always feel that a second 210 FROM POST TO FINISH. ham on the table leaves plenty of room for inquiry.' ' u Look sharp, old man,'' chimed in Elliston, as the trainer's wife beamed with satisfaction at the lawyer's compliment to her housewifery. " Every one has known for years that Mrs. Greyson is not only about the best-looking woman in the riding, but with the sole idea of what a Yorkshire breakfast should be. If ever a woman was tired of compliments, you should be, Mrs. Greyson; it is no dis- paragement, Dollie, to say we were born too soon, and remember your mother ; but, my dear, you'll turn some of the young uns foolish before many months are over. Now, Sam, I've to catch the London train. We must make a start of it. Good-bye, Mrs. Greyson, good-bye. Our trap's at the door, I see. Wish you luck at Newmarket, Greyson; that is if you still persist in such Midsummer mad- ness." TURF TACTICS. 241 u What does Mr. Elliston mean by wishing you luck at Newmarket ? " in- quired Dollie, as the sounds of the car- riage that was conveying her father's patrons died away in the distance. " He's given me leave to send the Dancing Master to run for the Guineas if I like to pay the expenses/' a Is it worth while, father ? " " Well, lass, you see, I've got a nicish bet about him. He's wonderfully well just now, and he's a flyer when he likes. It's all the odd's I've got against his liking, but I tell you he'll make mince- meat of his field if he takes it into his head to try. I shall send that new lad, Forrest, with him. He can do more with the horse than any one.'' " And yet he nearly killed him to begin with." " Quite true, Dollie, but the lad has two great qualities of a horseman — hands and patience. The Dancing Master's VOL. I. R 242 FROM POST TO FINISH. disposition is not heavenly, but he is more likely to run kind with young Forrest than with any one else." " And if he won, it would be the mak- ing of him ! " cried the girl, eagerly. " Well, yes, he'd get another chance or two, no doubt, after winning the Guineas," rejoined the trainer, as he eyed his daugh- ter with no little astonishment. " But what interest have you in him ? Why do you ask ? " " Oh, none. Only I saw his first fight with the horse. As Mr. Elliston says, 1 1 wish you luck,' father," and so saying Dollie tripped out of the room. 243 CHAPTER XV. THE TWO TRIALS." Dollie ran upstairs. She wanted to be alone to think. Here was her dream on the verge of being realised. Next week Gerald would " don silk" for the first time and be embarked on the career she had marked out for him. Had she done right in advising him to embrace such a hard and onerous business ? And yet, with his aptitude for riding, his light weight, and nerve, conjoined with his apparent inap- titude and distaste for anything else, what better path in life was open to him ? He was going through all the drudgery of his profession at present (your footman dubs himself a professional gentleman nowadays R 2 244 FROM POST TO FINISH. — why not ?), and none knew better than she how hard that apprenticeship was. But then, again, was not the novitiate of all careers laid through stony places? The Church, the Bar, Medicine, what you will, did not men find bread and cheese hard to earn at first in all of them ? It is not every soldier who becomes a K.C.B., nor every sailor who attains a seat on the Admiralty Board, and even when they do they will tell you, to use Sam Slick's words, their early life was " not all beer and skittles." There are always many more blanks than prizes in lotteries, and in none more so than the lottery of life. There was no career in which a com- petence could be realised in so short a time by skill, pluck, and prudence, as that she had counselled, always providing there was natural aptitude for the profession to start with, and that the luck, an invariable adjunct to success in any path, was vouch- safed the aspirant. " THE TWO TRIALS." 245 Still, Dollie could not refrain from a slight shiver as with her dear little prac- tical head she counted up the chances. Her lover had got his opening far sooner than she had dared to hope, and yet what a very dubious one it was ! Gerald's success depended mainly, not on his own skill, nerve, and determination, but on the uncertain temper of the brute he was to ride. Dollie thoroughly understood the Dancing Master. She knew her father's estimate of the horse, and she knew that her lover had formed a similar opinion. He had not her father's experience, but Gerald did know something about horses. What would he think of this chance when he heard of it ? Dollie knew very well that any of the leading jockeys would feel ineffably disgusted at finding that destiny condemned them to bestride such a mount for a big race. Gerald surely would not be so foolish. These unpromising chances have been the starting point of many a 246 FROM POST TO FINISH. man's life, and it is hardly likely that our first brief is quite what we would have chosen. Then Dollie wished exceedingly that she could be the first bearer of the news to her lover, and hear what he had to say about it, but, as before said, it was not easy to get speech of him without a little manoeuvring. And then, as the warm March sunlight glinted into the room, for the bluster was out of the month, and it had arrived at that lamb-like stage in which it is traditionally supposed to close its career, Dollie fell asleep. A pretty picture the girl made, seated in an old-fashioned black oak chair close to the open lattice, with her small hand buried in her red gold hair, and her long dark curling eyelashes sweeping her somewhat pale cheeks, for Dollie. though enjoying excellent health, had a somewhat delicate complexion, to which even the air of Riddleton Moor never gave a dairy-maid's colour. The breath fell low and regularly 247 from the slightly parted lips, and gradually the girl's hopes, thoughts, and inspirations began to seethe and bubble in that most restless of all cauldrons, the sleeper's brain. She was on Riddleton Moor, and Gerald once again waged that dire struggle for mastery betwixt horse and rider ; yet again a half cry escaped the sleeper's lips, and a stifled murmur of " Killed, killed!— my God! killed at my bidding ! " Then the grey, with lowered crest and drooping ears, crossed her vision, and a triumphant cry from Gerald rang in her ears : " Conquered all the same, Dollie ; see — he's cowed, he's cowed." Once again turned the picture, like the ever-shifting combinations of a kaleidoscope, and Gerald, stretched pale and senseless on a hurdle, with the blood trickling freely from an ominous wound in his forehead, passed, like Banquo's ghost, in ghastty procession athwart her troubled brain ; then she was seated in a 248 PROM POST TO PINISH. carriage on the famous Heath at New- market — heath, mind, that Dollie had never as yet seen. She saw the undulat- ing emerald swathe stretching far away on every side as she had never seen turf yet, and comprehended at once a remark of her father's that had often puzzled her : u There are horses that won't run at New- market ; the expanse of the heath seems to cow them." The Two Thousand was about to be run. Oh, where did they start ? Could nobody tell her ? She appealed to several people — people she did not know ; but whose faces she saw distinctly in her dream ; but nobody seemed to know anything about it, while every one seemed to wonder what she did there. Then suddenly she encount- ered Cuthbert Elliston, who, in answer to her mute appeal, pointed derisively to a place where some dozen or more of horses were kicking, rearing, plunging, and in- dulging in all sorts of equine vagaries ; " THE TWO TRIALS." 249 but, prominent amongst them all, like " Lucifer, Son of the Morning," in the midst of his satellites, was that handsome iron grey colt, taxing all Gerald's powers to retain his seat, without troubling his head about the control of his unruly- charge. Then came a chaos in Dollie's dream, and the horses and riders were all blended in apparently inextricable confusion, such as one sees in some spectacle of the arena just previous to the whole mass tumbling into their proper places. Then came a burst of light, and a troop of gaily-dizened horsemen streamed in a clump across the plain, while another, in the far back- ground, battled fiercely with a truculent grey steed. Again the scene becomes misty, and when the white fog lifts that contumacious grey colt is leading his field six lengths, and the roar of the Ring proclaims the fact that Bill Grey son wins, and the bookmakers have had a good race. 250 FROM POST TO FINISH. Enthusiastic those children of the brazen throats and mystic circle whenever a neglected outsider comes to their aid. Once more the girl's high-strung nerves carry her away, and she pictures in her slumbers an objection after the race. Gerald has won ; but they decline to award him the prize. She does not know what is wrong, but she is conscious that Gerald's claim is disallowed. She does not know the reason, but is quite clear upon that point. He has won, and he has lost. Scored a big race, and buried a reputation ; ah, why ? — how ? And then the tears well slowly under the long curled lashes, and Dollie once more sub- sides into dreamless oblivion. Queer things these visions of the night time — distorted pictures of our waking fancies, for the most part. Panoramas we usually imagine them ; blurred photo- graphs, and of very short duration, what they actually are. " THE TWO TRIALS." 251 But wherever there is a prohibitive ukase so also there is a contraband trade. Lovers, whose affair does not quite meet with the approval of the powers that be, are sure to arrive at an underground post. Did not the authoress of " Mes Larmes," like the woodpecker, investigate a hollow tree in search of the Catullus-like effusions of young Mr. Pendennis r and did it not stand to reason that Dollie and Gerald also possessed a letter-box unrecognised by the Post Office officials ? In accordance with instructions so re- ceived, Gerald was by the low fence at the back of the orchard that evening. " What is it, dearest?'' he inquired, their first greetings over. " You said ' something of importance.' Does that mean good news for me in any shape ? '' " I think so, but you will be a better judge than I of that. You are to be sent to Newmarket to ride in the Guineas." u By Jove, that's a big opening," ex- 252 FROM POST TO FINISH. claimed young Rockingham ; " rather too big. You see that means riding against all the best form in England, and I can't flatter myself I'm equal to that. But it's not likely I'll be put upon anything that's good for much." " You are to ride your present charge, Gerald, and I've heard you say, as my father does, that, if he likes, the Dancing Master's the best three - year - old in England.'*' " I believe honestly he is ; but, Dollie, I know the horse thoroughly, and tell you candidly that, as far as I am concerned, I shall have very little to do with it. He will do as he likes, and George Fordham himself could do nothing with him if he is in one of his wicked moods. It's a bit of very doubtful luck. My precious cousin is not likely to overlook me at Newmarket if I am riding his horse." " Why he never noticed you here." " True ; but I can't muffle up there. " THE TWO TRIALS." 253 Men take stock of jockeys in a big race who never notice stable-boys. Then, again, Cuthbert Elliston hates the sight of the Dancing Master, he has lost his money over him so often ; and, as the horse be- haved particularly badly this morning, he never came near him to look him over. It was easy not to be recognised here, but at Newmarket it will be almost impossible to escape detection." " And what if you are ? " asked Dollie, proudly. " Ay, I know I ought to say also i What if I am ? ' " rejoined her lover, sadly. " I ought to be thankful to get an honest living any how, but you see I can't quite forget the old pride of birth and position, and wince at the idea of Gerald Rocking- ham being seen riding races for a living." " You'll have to face that, dearest," she rejoined in a low voice. "If you love me it ought not to seem so very dreadful. If 254 FROM POST TO FINISH. you fear to face the world as a jockey, how will you find the courage to marry a trainer's daughter ? " " You're right, Dollie," he replied, firmly. "All the world knows I'm ruined. It is well they see one Rockingham get a living by the turf. But did your father say positively he should send the horse to Newmarket, or is it to depend on the re- sult of a trial ? " " No ; he said he should chance it. That there was no dependence to be placed on the Dancing Master." " He's quite right. He might win here and lose on the Heath, or vice versd" " And now, Gerald, I must run away, or else I shall be missed. I dreamt I saw the whole race this afternoon. I fell asleep, and thought they all behaved very badly at the post, but none so badly as your horse, and then all was mist, and then I saw you win easily." " THE TWO TRIALS." 255 tC Good-bye, clearest/' said young Rock- ingham, gaily. " We want no better trial than that.'' " Good-bye," whispered Dollie, for she resolved not to dash her lover's spirits by telling him the finish of her dream. * # * & It is early morning, and there is some little stir visible on Riddleton Moor. Under Joe Butters's auspices some of the boys are carefully unsheeting three or four horses, tightening the girths, and putting a last touch or two to their toilettes generally. "'Now, young 'un," said Mr. Butters, oracularly ; "this is the Friday before 'the Guineas,' and, as usual, we are going to take the measure of our ' Two Thousand ' horse." •' I don't suppose we shall learn much more than we learned the other day when Mr. Elliston was here to see," said Forrest sententiously. 256 FROM POST TO FINISH. " We may or may not," retorted Butters ; " we're going to try that grey colt in real earnest this morning, regular weights, and all the rest of it ; what they'll be, Mr. Greyson only knows. If you can make your horse run honest, we shall know whether we ought to win on Tuesday." At this juncture the trainer himself arrived on the ground. Jim Forrest and three other lads are successively ordered to get into a weighing-machine already on the ground, and then Mr. Greyson indulges in some mysterious juggling with saddle-cloths and bits of lead. This apparently at last settled to his liking, there comes much accurate weighing of the saddles themselves ; and then the trainer, assisted by Butters, personally sees to the placing them on the horses' backs. "Now, my lads," says Greyson, quietly, as, his arrangements completed, he mus- " THE TWO TRIALS." 257 tered them down at what they all well knew was the mile post, tl you are going to ride a trial gallop this morning; and mind you pay strict attention to my orders. You, Sampson, on that three- year-old, will make the pace as hot as you can and as long as you can ; but I reckon the half-mile post will see you about done with. Take Phaeton to the front, Matthews, and go on with the run- ning as soon as Sampson has shot his bolt; while you, Tom, wait upon Phaeton till a hundred yards from home, and then go up with Caterham, strangle him, and win. Now, Forrest, my only orders to you are, don't fidget your horse, and win if you can. If he's running kind and free, take him along ; if he sulks, nurse and humour him ; but you are to be first past the post if you can." The boys made no reply, but reined their horses back, and speedily got well together, the grey behaving, for a wonder, 258 FROM POST TO FINISH. with singular propriety, enabling Butters to give the word " Go " to a very good start. The three-year-old, whose mission it was to make the running, dashed at once to the front, and the Dancing Master, who seemed suddenly to have completely changed his disposition, jumping off at the word, promptly took second place. Mindful of his horse's irritable tempera- ment, Jim allowed him to stride along as he pleased, with the comfortable con- viction that his mount, in racing parlance, was treading the leader's heels off. Soon after passing the half-mile post, the three- year-old making the running, in accord- ance with his trainer's anticipation, showed symptoms of distress, and Jim assumed the lead, his horse going strong and well. "By the Lord! the grey walks in," ejaculated Bill Grey son, as, nearing home, Phaeton tried vainly to run up to the Dancing Master; and to any judge of " THE TWO TRIALS." 259 racing it most assuredly looked as if Jim Forrest would win easily; when, suddenly, for no apparent reason, the grey swerved, and, bolting across the gallop, made the best of his way in the direction of his own stable, despite all the efforts of his rider to control him. Then a capital set-to between the four-year-olds resulted in the triumph of Caterham by half a length. u Mr. Elliston's right," muttered the trainer. " He arn't worth sending to Newmarket, or anywhere else ; however, go he shall this time and take his chance. The form, too, is right enough ; and, if he'd only stuck to his work, I should have tried him good enough to win any Two Thousand. Yes, Joe," he continued, turning to Butters ; u you may send 'em home now; that grey colt would spoil any one's breakfast. I suppose he's about got home by this." S2 260 FROM POST TO FINISH. " No ; young Forrest has got the upper hand of him again, and is bringing him back." Mr. Greyson made no reply, but shook his head in moody silence as he mused over the Dancing Master's iniquities. 261 CHAPTER XVI. " THE TWO THOUSAND." There is much stir and bustle in the turf metropolis this April morning, for is not the first great three-year-old contest of the year to be decided in the course of the afternoon ? Keenly are the respective merits of the candidates discussed by lords and legs, by backers and book- makers. One name especially seems to be in all men's mouths, and that not the name of a horse, but that of a leading turf magnate. What did Sir Marmaduke Martindale mean doing? That astute tactician had two horses engaged, both were at Newmarket, well, said the horse- watchers, and each had been backed by 262 FROM POST TO FINISH. Sir Marmaduke to win a heavy stake ; but about which would profit him most by victory opinion differed, and was apt to be biassed a good deal by what would most benefit the speaker. Turf vaticina- tion is more frequently the expression of the prophet's hopes than a genuine state- ment of opinion. Both horses figured prominently in the betting, and had more than once changed places in public favour. Some old stagers who had witnessed much manipulation of the strings in their time, and who had been at first considerably staggered by the bold demonstration in favour of Bushranger made by Sir Mar- maduke that afternoon at Tattersall's, laughed now, and declared it was a mere ruse to drive Pibroch back in the market ; and it certainly looked like it now, as those most intimately connected with the stable were steadily supporting the latter, and seemed indisposed to invest money on Bushranger. " THE TWO THOUSAND." 263 "Well," said Cuthbert Elliston to his partner, as they strolled up and down in front of the Rooms, "it is all right now ; but I own Sir Marmaduke frightened me the day he put so much money on the second string. We shall land a nice little haul over Pibroch." " Yes ; if it comes off," replied Pearson. "Come off! He's certain to win from all I hear, and Bob Broughton told me just now he had taken back all he laid against him ; and Broughton knows what he is about as well as any man that goes racing." "Yes; but there's no certainty about anything connected with racing, we both know very well. I've got a message for you from old Greyson." "Why, he's not here, is he ? " " No ; but he lias sent Butters in charge of that grey colt, and bade Butters tell us from him that the colt is veiy fit, and will run well if in the humour." 264 FROM POST TO FINISH. " Perhaps he would ; but then he never is. Did he try him ? " " Yes ; but it seems the brute bolted, and therefore he is no wiser than he was before, as far as that goes." " Well, it is his own speculation/' replied Elliston ; "he pays the entrance and all expenses connected with the horse's run- ning." " Hum ! " observed Pearson, medita- tively. " Do you think it worth while having a trifle on the Dancing Master between us ? Just to save us. We stand to lose a good bit of money over Pibroch, you know ; and these rum-tempered brutes, if they ever win, always do when you don't want 'em to." u You can do as you like, of course ; but I don't fool away last year's winnings in that fashion. Pibroch and Sir Marma- duke are good enough ; and we can trust to the four-year-olds to do us a turn later on." 265 Pearson walked away, still turning over in his mind the fact that Grey son had thought it worth while to send the Danc- ing Master to Newmarket. He was much more prudent in his speculations than his partner, and did not at all like the idea of letting a dangerous horse what is termed " run loose," that is, unbacked, which might cost him a deaJ of money. Old Grey son he regarded as a very astute trainer, besides being very careful of his money ; not in the least given to throw his bank-notes about rashly. He must have formed a very high opinion of this colt to have sent him all the way from Yorkshire at his own expense. The Dancing Master was almost friendless in the betting ; fifty to one being, indeed, freely offered against him. Sam Pearson came to the conclusion that it would be as well to have a trifle on the horse, for fear of accidents. And now flies, hacks, and carriages are 266 FROM POST TO FINISH. all brought into requisition, and the motley crowd surges out of the town to- wards the famous Heath. The London special is in, and its freight, after scram- bling for a hasty luncheon at the Rutland, also pour out to the scene of battle. Two or three minor events are decided, and over some of these speculation waxed high, for Sir Marmaduke and his school would gamble as fiercely over a small selling race as over one of the great events of the year. But these at last are disposed of, and all the leading racing- men thronged to the Bird Cage to take stock of the Two Thousand horses. Sir Marmaduke's pair naturally attracted most attention. Of Pibroch good judges were warm in commendation; but much wonder was expressed that so much money should have been laid out on Bushranger, who was pronounced pea- cocky, a three-cornered brute, and was very generally disliked. Had he been " THE TWO THOUSAND." 267 human he could not fail to have been much wounded by his own unpopularity; but, as a horse, he was naturally but little affected by the contumelious epithets ap- plied to him. The Dancing Master attracted but little attention ; now and again some man, who really did know a galloper's points, would ask eagerly, " What's that ? " but the minute be heard the name, took no further interest in the horse. There is seldom much enthusiasm about rank outsiders, whether on the race- course of Newmarket or the racecourse of life ; when they do win, a crowd flock round them, stare, and are wildly enthu- siastic about their good qualities ; but it needs success to reveal these perfections to the public. At last the process of saddling is com- pleted, and the competitors canter down to the starting-post. Sir Marmaduke ex- changes a few words with his trainer, puts another thousand on Pibroch, which has 268 FROM POST TO FINISH. the effect of making that noble animal one of the hottest favourites which has run for many a year ; and, as he saunters up the steps of the Jockey Club Stand in his usual languid fashion to see the race, expresses the conviction that his pair will be first and second. " He always was a beautiful mover," muttered Sam Pearson, as he watched the Dancing Master lobbing lazily down to the post. u I wonder what boy they have got on him, and if the young beggar has a decent idea of riding. Hang it ! I'm blest if I don't throw away a tenner on old Greyson's spec.'' And, acting on this resolution, Pearson hailed one of the mag- nates of the Ping, who speedily accom- modated him with five hundred to ten against the Dancing Master. Hardly had he done so, when Pearson rather re- pented of the wager. The horses were now in the starter's charge, and the Dancing Master, sticking his toes in the " THE TWO THOUSAND." 269 ground, steadily refused to go anywhere near his companions. " Steady, Jim," said Butters, as taking hold of the horse's head, he caressed him, and tried, at first unsuccessfully, to lead him towards the others. " Be patient, and don't give 'em a chance to start with- out you, if you can help it." And the horse, as if ashamed of the reproof, walked somewhat sullenly towards his fellow competitors. Two or three minutes and down goes the flag, whilst a roar from the crowd proclaim they are off, and, what is more, to an excellent start, with one notable exception. As the flag fell the Dancing Master gave a sudden plunge, and jumped off something like two lengths to the good ; and, to the astonishment of the lookers-on, was soon sailing away with the most commanding lead. Jim's spirits rose. This was a bit of luck he couldn't have hoped for ! Still he knew well what a very uncertain temper his mount pos- 270 FROM POST TO FINISH. sessed, and that, though it was fine just now, he might expect a change in the weather at any moment. His horse had taken hold of his bit, and was striding along in his very best form. Jim bore in mind what old Grey son had told him, that his only chance of winning was to let the horse do it himself, and not attempt to assist or interfere in any way with him. He sat as still as death, not daring to move, and, as he led his field down the Bushes' Hill, the riders of Pibroch and Bushranger began to feel uneasy about this dark outsider, who showed no sign of coming back to them. After passing the Bushes the rider of Pibroch made a resolute attempt to get on terms with the grey, but it was useless, and in a few strides he dropped away beaten, and gave way to his stable-companion. Half way up the Hill Bushranger was in difficulties, but though he struggled on gamely in his trouble, and answered gallantly to the call " THE TWO THOUSAND." 271 liis jockey made upon him, lie only suc- ceeded in finishing a bad second to the Dancing Master, who sailed past the Post four lengths to the good. " Done crisp as biscuits!'' exclaimed the Baronet; " who the deuce could have ex- pected to find such a flyer amongst the dark division? Ah, Mr. Elliston, allow me to congratulate you upon such a coup. You've a clinking good colt in the grey." Cuthbert Elliston's face, already settled into a sullen scowl, darkened consider- ably as he heard this pleasant observation. He had lost a lot of money over the race, which it was true the stakes would more than pay, but then again he had given away his horse — a horse now worth four thousand pounds or so, and Elliston was the last man in the world to part with anything representing that sum gratui- tously. Then again, here had been a chance of winning a large stake at a com- paratively insignificant outlay, and he had 272 FROM POST TO FINISH. missed that golden opportunity despite his trainer's advice. No, Cuthbert Elliston's expression was by no means heavenly as he rejoined curtly : " Thank you, Sir Marmaduke, but I hadn't a shilling on my own horse, whilst I stood Pibroch for a raker." "Ah! the beggar couldn't quite stay," replied Sir Marmaduke. " Just what I was afraid of, but the t'other, ugly as he is, ran game enough. No idea, of course, you had such a clipper. Don't want to sell him, do you ? He's in the Derby, of course ? " " No, I don't want to sell him, because he's not mine to sell," retorted Elliston. "Yes, he's in the Derby, but as he's the worst tempered brute in England, and only ran straight to-day by a miracle, 1 don't recommend you to back him for Epsom." " Sorry, Mr. Elliston, it was such a bad race for you," returned Sir Marmaduke, as " THE TWO THOUSAND." 273 he touched his hat in sign of adieu ; u but I have had too great a twister myself to offer further condolence. If I can't buy your horse, perhaps you will part with your boy. He sat still and rode a queer- tempered horse with both patience and judgment. Two things not easy to lay hands on as jockeys go nowadays." " I don't even know who he is, but one of Greyson's lads, I presume. Good afternoon, Sir Marmaduke," and Elliston strolled off to have a look at the Dancing Master. That he should receive no end of con- gratulations from his acquaintances on his victory was natural, and what annoyance these were to a man of his cynical tem- perament we can easily imagine. It has happened to many of us^ To avow our intention of doing one thing, and then doing another, is so common a weakness of humanity; and when our original inten- VOL. I. T 274 FROM POST TO FINISH. tion has turned up trumps to be compli- mented on our astuteness is a bitter but everyday experience. As he walked to- wards where Butters was proudly leading the Two Thousand yictor up and down amidst an admiring crowd he encountered Pearson. " A devil of a chance missed, Sam," he exclaimed. " Lucky for me I have got the stakes to draw upon to pay my bets. But though you are fortunately not quite so deep in the scrape as myself, I'm afraid you've had a real nasty race." "Not so bad as it might have been. I followed old Greyson's ' final,' and took five hundred to ten about the winner." " The deuce you did," replied Elliston, feeling still more disgusted with the race, if possible, on finding that his partner had followed the hint he had neglected. "Yes; but Elliston, do you know who it was that rode the Dancing Master ? " " THE TWO THOUSAND. ' 275 " Forrest, I think, I heard the young brute's name was. One of Greyson's boys of course." " The winner was ridden by one of Greyson's lads, and that lad was your cousin's son, Gerald Rockingham." " That young whelp is bound to be my ruin," growled Elliston, with a savage execration. " Hum ! I begin to think he may settle the score his father had against you in full," said Pearson. u Those acceptances of yours, remember, have never been found, but it does not follow that they don't exist." " He'll get his living in some other stable, or, better still, his death," returned Elliston, with a scowl ; " but he'll ride no more for mine." "He's not likely to lack riding now," observed Pearson with a shrug of his shoulders. END OF VOL. I.