A loud, clear voice, however, declined the invitation; the horses were heard pawing without. Arthur seized his hat and whip, and glanced to his mother and uncle, smilingly. “Good-bye! I shall be out till dinner. Kiss me, my pretty Milly!” And as his sister, who had run to the window, sickening for the fresh air and exercise he was about to enjoy, now turned to him wistful and mournful eyes, the kind-hearted young man took her in his arms, and whispered while he kissed her: “Get up early to-morrow, and we’ll have such a nice walk together.” Arthur was gone: his mother’s gaze had followed his young and graceful figure to the door. “Own that he is handsome, Lilburne. May I not say more:--has he not the proper air?” “My dear sister, your son will be rich. As for his air, he has plenty of airs, but wants graces.” “Then who could polish him like yourself?” “Probably no one. But had I a son--which Heaven forbid!--he should not have me for his Mentor. Place a young man--(go and shut the door, Camilla!)--between two vices--women and gambling, if you want to polish him into the fashionable smoothness. Entre nous, the varnish is a little expensive!” Mrs. Beaufort sighed. Lord Lilburne smiled. He had a strange pleasure in hurting the feelings of others. Besides, he disliked youth: in his own youth he had enjoyed so much that he grew sour when he saw the young. Meanwhile Arthur Beaufort and his friends, careless of the warmth of the day, were laughing merrily, and talking gaily, as they made for the suburb of H----. “It is an out-of-the-way place for a horse, too,” said Sir Harry Danvers. “But I assure you,” insisted Mr. Watson, earnestly, “that my groom, who is a capital judge, says it is the cleverest hack he ever mounted. It has won several trotting matches. It belonged to a sporting tradesman, now done up. The advertisement caught me.” “Well,” said Arthur, gaily, “at all events the ride is delightful. What weather! You must all dine with me at Richmond to-morrow--we will row back.” “And a little chicken-hazard, at the M---, afterwards,” said Mr. Marsden, who was an elder, not a better, man than the rest--a handsome, saturnine man--who had just left Oxford, and was already known on the turf. “Anything you please,” said Arthur, making his horse curvet. Oh, Mr. Robert Beaufort! Mr. Robert Beaufort! could your prudent, scheming, worldly heart but feel what devil’s tricks your wealth was playing with a son who if poor had been the pride of the Beauforts! On one side of our pieces of old we see the saint trampling down the dragon. False emblem! Reverse it on the coin! In the real use of the gold, it is the dragon who tramples down the saint! But on--on! the day is bright and your companions merry; make the best of your green years, Arthur Beaufort!