“Oh, as to that,” said he, in some confusion at the tone she had assumed, “it concerns many a thing you never heard of. The turf, and the men that live by it, make a little world of their own; they don't bother their heads about parties or politics,--don't care a farthing who 's 'in' or who 's 'out.' They keep their wits--and pretty sharp wits they are--for what goes on in Scott's stable, and how Holt stands for the St. Léger. They 'd rather hear how Velocipede eat his corn, than hear all the Cabinet secrets of Europe; and for that matter, so would I.” “I do not blame you for not caring for State secrets,--it is very possible they would interest you little; but surely you might imagine some more fitting career than what, after all, is a mere trading on the weakness of others. To make of an amusement a matter of profit is, in my eyes, mean; it is contemptible.” “That's not the way to look on it at all. The first men in England have race-horses.” “And precisely in the fact of their great wealth do they soar above all the ignoble associations the turf obliges to those who live by it.” “Well, I 'll give it up; there's my word on't I 'll never put my foot in Tattersall's yard again. I 'll take my name off the Turf Club,--is that enough?” She could not help smiling at the honest zeal of this sacrifice; but the smile had none of the scorn her features displayed before. “Oh, Lizzy!” cried he, enthusiastically, “if I was sure we could just live on here as we are doing,--never leave this little valley, nor see more of the world than we do daily,--I'd not exchange the life for a duke's fortune--” “And Holt's stable,” added she, laughing. “Come, you must not omit the real bribe.” He laughed heartily at this sally, and owned it was the grand temptation. “You are certainly very good-tempered, Annesley,” said she, after a pause. “I don't think I am,” said he, half piqued, for he thought the remark contained a sort of disparagement of that sharpness on which he chiefly prided himself. “I am very hot at times.” “I meant that you bore with great good-humor from me what you might, if so disposed, have fairly enough resented as an impertinence. What do I, what could I, know of that play-world of which you spoke? How gentlemen and men of fashion regard these things must needs be mysteries to me; I only wished to imply that you might make some better use of your faculties, and that knowledge of life you possess, than in conning over a betting-book or the 'Racing Calendar.'” “So I mean to do. That's exactly what I 'm planning.” “Here's the soup cooling and the sherry getting hot,” cried Grog, as he shouted from the window of the little inn, and waved his napkin to attract their notice. “There's papa making a signal to us,” said Lizzy; “did you suspect it was so late?” “Seven o'clock, by Jove!” cried Beecher, as he gave her his hand to cross the stepping-stones. “What a fuss he 'll make about our keeping the dinner back!” [Illustration: 284]