Volume Three—Chapter Five.
Preparing the Rivets.
“Con-gratulate you, my dear Vining! do, indeed,” said Hugh Lingon, coming up to Charley in the hunting-field, when he had been home about a fortnight.
“What about?” said Charley, who had attended every meet, and tried his best to break his neck as he rode straight, taking everything that came in his way.
“What about?” said Lingon. “Why, about your coming marriage, to be sure. Haven’t seen you before, or I should have given you a word or two. Rather too bad of Laura Bray, though.”
“What was?” said Charley very impatiently.
“Why, making such a pair of tongs of me, with which to fish for her hot roast chestnut—meaning you, of course, Charley,” said Lingon, with a laugh.
“Don’t be a fool!” said Charley gruffly.
“Not if I can help it,” said Lingon good-humouredly. “But you know how I was made a fool of, and then pitched over at any time, when your sultanship thought proper to be attentive.”
“Long time finding a fox this morning,” said Charley impatiently, as he turned his horse along by the side of a spinney. But Hugh Lingon was not to be shaken off, and trotting up to his side, fat and good-tempered, he talked on.
“I should have expected that you’d have given up all this sort of thing now, old fellow,” said Lingon; “but I suppose you are having your run out before the knot is tied. I say, though, how well Laura looks!”
“Does she?” said Charley absently; and it was very evident from his quiet abstracted manner, that he was thinking upon other matters.
“Does she! Ah, I think so. But mind you, I’ve an idea that Nelly will grow into a handsomer woman altogether. I like Nelly,” he added simply.
“So do I,” said Charley, starting from his reverie. “She’s a lovable girl.”
“I say, young man,” exclaimed Lingon, “that won’t do; you can’t have them both.”
“Pish!” exclaimed Charley, putting the spurs to his mare. “There, I’m going on. Good-morning, Lingon.”
“But I’m going your way, Charley,” cried the other, spurring up alongside. “Don’t be in such a hurry, man! It isn’t often one sees you now. I want to know when it’s to be. Our girls are sure to ask me, for they’re all red-hot about it.”
“When what’s to be?” said Charley, with a wondering gaze.
“O, come, I say, now, that’s a good un!” laughed Hugh Lingon, till his fat face was full of creases and rolls, some of which threatened to close his little twinkling eyes. “Going to be married, and got it all settled, and not know the day! Ha, ha, ha! Charley Vining, that is a good one! I do like that!” And he gave his friend a hearty slap on the back. “Come, I say, tell us, old fellow!”
“This day month, I believe—there!” said Charley viciously; and again he essayed to leave his friend behind.
“By the way, Charley,” said Hugh, continuing alongside, “I want you to do me a favour.”
He spoke so earnestly, that the other drew rein and turned to him.
“What is it?” he said.
“Well, I hardly like to ask you, but just now I’m in a fix.”
“Well, but what is it? How do you mean?” said Charley.
“Well, you see, I’m short of money, and I’m a good deal bothered; for I’d promised to pay my tailor, and now I can’t do it.”
“How much do you want?” said Charley quietly. “I’ve none here; but I’ll draw you a cheque when I get home.”
“O! I’m much obliged—I am, ’pon my word!” said Lingon. “Don’t I wish, though, that I could draw cheques, and come that sort of thing! I’m quite ashamed to ask you. But it isn’t my fault; for you see I had the money, and was going to send it, when who should pop down but Max Bray, and ask me to lend it to him—five-and-twenty pounds, you know. He wanted fifty; but of course that was out of my reach altogether. I lent him all I had, though; for he said that he should only want it for two days, when he’d be sure and send it back. Nelly’s brother, too, you see, so that I couldn’t well refuse him.”
Hugh Lingon did not see the black angry look upon Charley’s face, and he went on.
“He went to the governor after he left me, and got fifty pounds out of him; so I found out this morning when I went into the study to see if I could raise the wind myself, for I had an awful dunning letter from my tailor for breakfast, and there was the governor in no end of a rage—put on that grand magisterial air of his, and begins to talk to me like he does to the clodhoppers who have been having a drunk and a fight. And, lo and behold, it comes out that Mr Max promised to send his back the next day without fail; and the governor swears he’ll make old Bray pay up, if Max doesn’t answer his last letter, for he has written three, and had no reply. The last one he read me the copy of—all about ungentlemanly dishonourable behaviour, and so on. I believe the old chap would like to commit him for obtaining money under false pretences. But, I say, don’t run away, Charley. I may come and have the cheque, mayn’t I? for it’s of no use to try the governor again till Max Bray has paid up.”
“Yes, yes; come when you like!” cried Charley, turning and breasting his mare at a high hedge on the left, which the gallant beast cleared, but with hardly an inch to spare; and then they went crashing through the copse, and were out of sight in a minute.
“Well, that’s one way of giving a fellow the go-by!” muttered Hugh Lingon. “Why? I wouldn’t try that leap for five hundred pounds! nor would any one else who had the least regard for his neck. What did he fire-up about as soon as I mentioned Max Bray’s name? By Jove, though, as Max says, he don’t seem highly delighted about his good fortune!”
Other people made the same remark about Charley Vining, and also noticed how hard he hunted, riding in the most reckless way imaginable, but always seeming to escape free of harm, when more cautious riders met with the customary croppers, bruises, contusions, and broken limbs.