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PAYING his court to the ex-schoolmistress on the next day, Hardyman made such excellent use of his opportunities that the visit to the stud-farm took place on the day after. His own carriage was placed at the disposal of Isabel and her aunt; and his own sister was present to confer special distinction on the reception of Miss Pink.
The old vagabond, greatly amused by Moody's scruples, saw plainly enough that, so long as he wrote the supposed letter from Hardyman in the third person, it mattered little what handwriting was employed, seeing that no signature would be necessary. In half an hour the answer came back. It added one more to the difficulties which beset the inquiry after the lost money.
"I am afraid you are getting a little tired," said Hardyman. "Won't you take my arm?" Isabel was on her guard: she had not forgotten what Lady Lydiard had said to her. "No, thank you, Mr. Hardyman; I am a better walker than you think." Hardyman continued the conversation in his blunt, resolute way.
The worry of giving this party is not to be told in words. I almost wish I had been content with presenting you to my mother, and had let the rest of my acquaintances go to the devil." A quiet half hour passed; and the first visitor, a stranger to the servants, appeared at the cottage-gate. He was a middle-aged man, and he had no wish to disturb Mr. Hardyman.
"You don't despise the girl," she asked, "for selling herself for rank and money? I do I can tell you!" Moody's worn white face flushed a little. "No, my Lady," he answered, "I can't hear you say that! Isabel would not have engaged herself to Mr. Hardyman unless she had been fond of him as fond, I dare say, as I once hoped she might be of me.
Moody, and he loves me, and and I think that's all. This way, sir, if you please, I am sure I heard my Lady call." "No," said Hardyman, in his immovably obstinate way. "Nobody called. About this dog's temper? Doesn't he take to any strangers? What sort of people does he bite in general?" Isabel's pretty lips began to curl upward at the corners in a quaint smile.
The highest society modestly considered itself in danger of being dull in the absence of Mrs. Drumblade. Even Hardyman himself who saw as little of her as possible, whose frankly straightforward nature recoiled by instinct from contact with his sister could think of no fitter person to make Miss Pink's reception agreeable to her, while he was devoting his own attentions to her niece. Mrs.
Isabel had barely stated this last afflicting circumstance when the memoirs of Tommie were suddenly cut short by the voice of Lady Lydiard really calling this time from the inner room. "Isabel! Isabel!" cried her Ladyship, "what are you about?" Isabel ran to the door of the boudoir and threw it open. "Go in, sir! Pray go in!" she said. "Without you?" Hardyman asked. "I will follow you, sir.
In the plainest words, she released him from his engagement, and, without waiting for his excuses, quitted the room. Left together, Hardyman and Miss Pink devised an arrangement which paid due respect to Isabel's scruples, and at the same time met Lady Lydiard's insulting assertion of disbelief in Hardyman's honor, by a formal and public announcement of the marriage.
Hardyman?" The gravity of the great horse-breeder deserted him at her first question. He smiled as he acknowledged that he was "Mr. Hardyman" he smiled as he offered her a chair. "No, thank you, sir," she said, with a quaintly pretty inclination of her head. "I am only sent here to make her Ladyship's apologies. She has put the poor dear dog into a warm bath, and she can't leave him. And Mr.
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