‘When I saw her last, she was mounted on your horse, and you were on my father’s. I find you still on my father’s horse, and your own--with the lady--nowhere. Have I made out a case of suspicion?’ ‘It is I who have cause of complaint,’ I returned--‘who have neither lady nor mare--unless indeed you imagine I have in the case of the latter made a good exchange.’ ‘Hardly that, I imagine, if yours is half so good as she looks. But, seriously, have you seen Clara to-day?’ I told him the facts as lightly as I could. When I had finished, he stared at me with an expression which for the moment I avoided attempting to interpret. ‘On horseback with Mr Brotherton?’ he said, uttering the words as if every syllable had been separately italicized. ‘You will find it as I say,’ I replied, feeling offended. ‘My dear boy--excuse my freedom,’ he returned--‘I am nearly three times your age--you do not imagine I doubt a hair’s breadth of your statement! But--the giddy goose!--how could you be so silly? Pardon me again. Your unselfishness is positively amusing! To hand over your horse to her, and then ride away all by yourself on that--respectable stager!’ ‘Don’t abuse the old horse,’ I returned. ‘He _is_ respectable, and has been more in his day.’ ‘Yes, yes. But for the life of me I cannot understand it. Mr Cumbermede, I am sorry for you. I should not advise you to choose the law for a profession. The man who does not regard his own rights will hardly do for an adviser in the affairs of others. ‘You were not going to consult me, Mr Coningham, were you?’ I said, now able at length to laugh without effort. ‘Not quite that,’ he returned, also laughing. ‘But a right, you know, is one of the most serious things in the world.’ It seemed irrelevant to the trifling character of the case. I could not understand why he should regard the affair as of such importance. ‘I have been in the way of thinking,’ I said, ‘that one of the advantages of having rights was that you could part with them when you pleased. You’re not bound to insist on your rights, are you?’ ‘Certainly you would not subject yourself to a criminal action by foregoing them, but you might suggest to your friends a commission of lunacy. I see how it is. That is your uncle all over! _He_ was never a man of the world.’ ‘You are right there, Mr Coningham. It is the last epithet any one would give my uncle.’ ‘And the first any one would give _me_, you imply, Mr Cumbermede.’ ‘I had no such intention,’ I answered. ‘That would have been rude.’ ‘Not in the least. _I_ should have taken it as a compliment. The man who does not care about his rights, depend upon it, will be made a tool of by those that do. If he is not a spoon already, he will become one. I shouldn’t have _iffed_ it at all if I hadn’t known you.’ ‘And you don’t want to be rude to me.’