University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
SHOWING A GENTLEMAN'S NEED OF A HORSE.

It was the hour when the sun in heaven is supposed to be least
promiscuous—the hour when the five hundred fashionables of
London West-End receive his visit in the open air, to the entire
exclusion (it is presumed) of the remaining population of the
globe. The cabs and jarveys, the vehicles of the despised public,
rolled past the forbidden gate of Hyde park, and the echo
stationed in the arched portal announced the coroneted carriages
as they nicely nibbled the pleased gravel in passing under. A
plebian or two stood outside to get a look at the superior beings
whose daily list of company to dine is the news most carefully
furnished to the instructed public. The birds (having “fine
feathers”) flew over the iron railing, unchallenged by the gatekeeper.
Four o'clock went up to Heaven's gate with the souls

of those who had died since three, and with the hour's report of
the world's sins and good deeds; and, at the same moment, a
chariot rolled into the park, holding between its claret panels the
embellished flesh and blood of Lady Aymar and her incomparable
daughter.

A group of gay men on horseback stood at the bend of
“Rotten Row,” watching the comers-in; and within the inner
railing of the park, among the promenaders on foot, was distinguishable
the slight figure of Count Pallardos, pacing to and
fro with step somewhat irregular. As Lady Aymar's chariot
went by, he bowed with a frank and ready smile, but the smile
was quickly banished by a flushed cheek and lowering brow, for
from the group of mounted dandies, dashed out Lord Frederick
Beauchief, upon a horse of unparalleled beauty, and with
a short gallop took and kept his place close at the chariot
window.

Pallardos watched them till the turn of the ring took them
from his sight. The fitness of the group—the evident suitableness
of Lord Frederick's position at that chariot window, filled
him with a jealousy he could no longer stifle. The contest was
all unequal, it was too palpable to deny. He, himself, whatever
his person or qualities, was, when on foot, in the place allotted to
him by his fortunes—not only unnoticed by the contagious admiration
of the crowd, but unable even to obey his mistress, though
beckoned by her smile to follow her! That superb animal, the
very type of pride and beauty, arching his glossy neck and tossing
his spirited head before the eyes of Lady Angelica, was one of
those unanalyzed, undisputed vouchers for the owner's superiority,
which make wealth the devil's gift—irresistible but by the penetrating
and cold judgment of superior beings. How should a

woman, born with the susceptible weaknesses of her sex, most
impressible by that which is most showy and beautiful—how
should she be expected to reason coldly and with philosophic
discrimination on this subject?—how separate from Lord
Frederick, the mere man, his subservient accompaniments of
wealth, attendance, homage from others, and infatuated presumption
in himself? Nay—what presumption in Spiridion Pallardos
(so he felt, with his teeth set together in despair, as he walked
rapidly along)—to suppose that he could contend successfully
against this and a thousand such advantages and opportunities,
with only his unpriced, unproved love to offer her with a hand of
poverty! His heart ran drowningly over with the bitterness of
conviction.

After a few steps, Pallardos turned back with an instinctive
though inexplicable desire to hasten the pang of once more meeting
them as they came round the ring of the park. Coming
toward him, was one of the honorable officials of Downing street,
with whom he had been thrown in contact, a conceited and well-born
diner-out, mounted on a handsome cob, but with his servant
behind him on a blood-hunter. Mr. Dallinger was walking his
horse slowly along the fence, and, as he came opposite Pallardos,
he drew rein.

“Count!” said he, in that patronising tone which is tossed
over the head of the patronised like a swan's neck over the worm
about to be gobbled, “a—a—a—do you know Spanish?”

“Yes. Why?”

“A—a—I've a job for you! You know Moreno, the Spanish
secretary—well, his wife—she will persist in disguising her billets-doux
in that stilted language, and—you know what I want—
suppose you come and breakfast with me to-morrow morning?”

Pallardos was mentally crowding his contemptuous refusal into
the smallest phrase that could convey repulse to insolence, when
the high-stepping and foam-spattered forelegs of Lady Aymar's
bays appeared under the drooping branch of the tree beyond him.
The next instant, Lord Frederick's easily-carried head danced
into sight—a smile of perfect self-satisfaction on his face, and his
magnificent horse, excited by the constant check, prancing at his
proudest. At the moment they passed, Dallinger's groom,
attempting to restrain the impatience of the spirited hunter he
was upon, drew the curb a little too violently, and the man was
thrown. The sight of the empty saddle sent a thought through
the brain of Pallardos like a shaft.

“May I take a little of the nonsense out of that horse for you?”
said he quickly, springing over the railing, and seizing the rein,
to which the man still held, while the affrighted horse backed and
reared toward his master.

“A—a—yes, if you like!”

Pallardos sprang into the saddle, loosened the rein and leaned
forward, and, with three or four powerful bounds, the horse was
at the other window of the chariot. Away, with the bursted
trammels of heart and brain, went all thoughts of the horse's
owner, and all design, if any had flashed on his mind, of time or
place for restoring him. Bred in a half-civilized country, where
the bold hand was often paramount to law, the Greek had no
habit of mind likely to recognise, in a moment of passion, even
stronger barriers of propriety than he was now violating; and, to
control his countenance and his tongue, and summon his resources
for an apparently careless and smiling contest of attraction with
his untroubled rival, was work enough for the whole mind and
memory, as well as for all the nerve and spirit of the excited

Greek. He laid his hand on the chariot window, and thinking no
more of the horse he was subduing than the air he breathed, broke
up his powerful gallop to a pace that suited him, and played the
lover to the best of his coolness and ability.

“We saw you walking just now, and were lamenting that you
were not on horseback,” said Lady Aymar, “for it is a sweet
evening, and we thought of driving out for a stroll in old Sir
John Chasteney's grounds at Bayswater. Will you come, Spiridion?
Tell White to drive there!”

Lord Frederick kept his place, and, with its double escort, the
equipage of the Aymars sped on its way to Bayswater. Spiridion
was the handsomer man, and the more graceful rider, and, without
forcing the difficult part of keeping up a conversation with
those within the chariot, he soon found his uneasiness displaced
by a glow of hope and happiness; for Lady Angelica, leaning far
back in her seat, and completely hidden from Lord Frederick,
kept her eyes watchfully and steadily upon the opposite side, where
rode her less confident lover. The evening was of summer's
softest and richest glory, breezy and fragrant; and as the sun
grew golden, the party alighted at the gates of Chasteney park—
in tune for love, it must needs be, if ever conspiring smiles in
nature could compel accord in human affections.

Ah, happy Spiridion Pallardos! The Lady Angelica called
him to disengage her dress from the step of the carriage, and her
arm was in his when he arose, placed there as confidingly as a
bride's, and with a gentle pressure that was half love and half
mischief—for she quite comprehended that Lord Frederick's ride
to Bayswater was not for the pleasure of a twilight stroll through
Chasteney park with her mother! That mother, fortunately, was
no duenna. She had pretensions of her own to admiration, and

she was only particular as to the quantity. Her daughter's division
with her of the homage of their male acquaintances, was an
evil she indolently submitted to, but she was pleased in proportion
as it was not obtruded upon her notice. As Pallardos and the
Lady Angelica turned into one of the winding alleys of the
grounds, Lady Aymar bent her large eyes very fixedly upon
another, and where such beautiful eyes went before, her small
feet were very sure to follow. The twilight threw its first blur over
the embowering foliage as the parties lost sight of each other,
and, of the pair who are the hero and heroine of this story, it can
only be disclosed that they found a heaven (embalmed, for their
particular use, in the golden dusk of that evening's twilight), and
returned to the park gate in the latest minute before dark, sworn
lovers, let come what would. But meantime, the happy man's
horse had disappeared, as well he might have been expected to
do, his bridle having been thrown over a bush by the engrossed
Pallardos, when called upon to assist Lady Angelica from her
carriage, and milord's groom and miladi's footman having no
sovereign reasons for securing him. Lord Frederick laughed till
the Count accepted the offer of Lady Aymar to take him home,
bodkin-wise, between herself and her daughter; and for the happiness
of being close pressed to the loving side of the Lady Angelica
for one hour more, Pallardos would willingly have lost a
thousand horses—his own or the Honorable Mr. Dallinger's.
And, by the way, of Mr. Dallinger and his wrath, and his horseless
groom, Spiridion began now to have a thought or two of an
uncomfortable pertinacity of intrusion.