Wild Margaret. Garvice Charles
Leyton Court – then looked at Margaret and made a respectful bow.
"My granddaughter, Margaret, Mr. Stibbings," said the old lady, proudly.
The butler appeared surprised. He had taken Margaret for a visitor, and had been wondering how on earth she had got into the place without his knowing it?
"In – deed, Mrs. Hale! Glad to see you, miss."
"Yes, Mr. Stibbings; and, would you believe it, she's been in our picture-gallery, and – "
But Mr. Stibbings seemed too hurried and full of suppressed excitement to attend.
"Mrs. Hale, ma'am, you'll scarcely credit it, but – " he drew nearer and lowered his voice to a whisper.
"Bless my heart!" exclaimed the old lady. "Dear, dear me! What is to be done? Will he stay, do you think? You'll let me know at once, there will be a great deal to see to – "
"Yes, yes," said the butler. "I'm going to find out. He has only just been announced. I don't know yet whether the earl will see him. Extraordinary, isn't it?" and he hurried on his way.
"Ex – tra – ordinary!" responded the old lady, staring at Margaret.
"What has happened, grandma?" asked Margaret, with a laugh.
"It's no laughing matter, my dear!" said the old lady, gravely. "Lord Blair Leyton has come."
"Has he?" said Margaret, with less interest than the matter deserved.
"Yes, and who knows what will happen? Perhaps the earl won't see him; perhaps they won't meet after all."
"I suppose they won't kill each other if they do, will they?" said Margaret.
The old lady looked at her aghast; such levity was terrible.
"My dear," she said, "you don't know what you are talking about. Kill each other – the earl and his nephew! Why, how ever could you say such a thing? Great people never fight, let alone kill each other."
CHAPTER IV
Meanwhile, Mr. Larkhall, the valet, had gone to the earl's sitting-room and made the announcement:
"Lord Leyton, my lord!"
The earl raised his steel-gray eyes, and, frowning slightly, said, "Lord Leyton?" without any expression of surprise.
"Yes, my lord," said the valet, with the proper impassiveness of a high-class servant.
The earl kept his eyes on the floor for a moment, then nodded as an indication that Lord Blair was to be shown in, and Mr. Larkhall went out to the drawing-room, where Lord Blair was waiting.
He was looking remarkably well this morning, and there were no traces of his encounter with Mr. Pyke on his handsome face, which with its prevailing suggestion of brightness and good humor, seemed to light up the grand and rather too stately room. He was dressed in that very comfortable and somewhat picturesque fashion, which is the mode nowadays, and his shapely limbs displayed themselves, not without grace, in knickerbockers and a shooting jacket of a wide check, which made his broad shoulders look even more vast than they were. Take him altogether he presented a very fine specimen of the genus man, at its best period, when youth sits at the prow, and pleasure sings joyously at the helm.
"This way, my lord," said Mr. Larkhall, and the young man followed the valet into the earl's room.
As he entered, the earl rose and looked at him, and notwithstanding the sternness of his face, a gleam of reluctant admiration shone in his eyes. He held out the thin, white hand.
"How do you do, Blair?" he said.
Lord Blair shook his hand.
"I hope you're well, sir?" he said, and the light, musical voice seemed to ring through the room, in its contrast to the elder man's subdued tones.
The earl waved his hand to a chair, and sank back into his own.
Then a silence ensued. It was evident that the earl expected the young viscount to account for his presence, and that Lord Blair found it rather hard to begin.
"Not had the gout lately, I hope, sir?" he said.
"Thanks, no; not very lately," replied the earl.
"I'm glad of that," said Lord Blair. "I shouldn't have liked to worry you while you were ill – and – and I ought to apologize for coming uninvited – "
It was palpable that he was not used to apologizing, and he did it awkwardly and bluntly.
The earl waved his hand.
"You are always free to come to the Court, Blair; you know that, I trust?"
He did not say that he was welcome, or that he, the earl was glad to see him.
"Thanks," said Lord Blair. "I shouldn't have come if I hadn't been obliged – I mean," with a smile at his clumsiness, "I mean I wanted to see you particularly on business – "
"Business?" said the earl, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Would not Messrs. Tyler & Driver – "
Tyler & Driver were the family solicitors.
"No," said Lord Blair; "I didn't think so. The fact is, sir, that I'm in a scrape." He said it with an air of surprise that made the earl smile dryly. "Yes; I suppose you'll say I always am. Well, I dare say I am. By George, I don't know how it is, either, for I'm always trying hard to keep out of 'em."
"Is it money – this time?" inquired the earl, with an impassiveness that was worse than any exhibition of ill-humor.
"Yes; it's money this time," assented Lord Blair laughing slightly, but coloring. "The fact is – " he paused. "I don't know whether you saw that my horse, Daylight, lost the Chinhester stakes?"
"I don't read the racing news," said his lordship gravely.
"Ah, I forgot. Well, it did. The fool of a jockey pulled at him too long, and – but I'm afraid you would not understand, sir."
"Most probably not," was the dry response.
"Anyway, he lost, and as I'd backed him very heavily – too heavily as it turned out – I lost a hatful of money. I've had a run of ill-luck all the season, too," he continued, as cheerfully as if he were recounting luck of quite another kind. "So I find myself completely up a tree. I don't like asking you for any more money, I seem to have had such a tremendous lot, don't you know, and it occurred to me that there was that Ketton property, and I could raise the money on that."
The earl's face darkened.
"Of course I know I needn't have troubled you about it," went on Lord Blair, "but I promised you I wouldn't raise any money without letting you know, and so – well, here I am," he wound up cheerfully.
The earl sat perfectly still and looked at the carpet.
"Blair," he said, at last, "you are on the road to ruin!"
"It's not so bad as that, sir, I hope," said the young man, after a rather startled stare and pause.
"You are a spendthrift and a gambler," continued the earl, his face hardening at each word.
Lord Blair's face flushed.
"That's rather strong, isn't it, sir?" he said, quietly.
"It is the truth – the plain truth," retorted the earl, quickly. "You are twenty-five, and you have run through – flung to the winds, destroyed – nearly all your own property. Only Ketton remains, and that is, you tell me, to go. What do you expect me to say? Have you no conscience, no sense of decency? But, indeed, the question is unnecessary, you have none."
The young man rose, and on his handsome face came a look that bore a faint resemblance to that on the old man's.
"What do you mean?" he asked, shortly.
The earl raised his eyes.
"With this ruin impending over you, you come to me to ask my sanction of the last step, and on the way here you amuse yourself by indulging in a vulgar ale-house brawl with one of my people, outside my gates – within sight of the house!"
Lord Blair sank into the chair,