"Of course M. de Mailly rides, and, no doubt, excellently. But perhaps it might not be amiss if he would come out to the plantation in the morning to try my horse. And if you'll all be there to-morrow by—eleven o'clock, we'll examine Castor and give him a mount in my paddock to—"
"To see whether my riding is fit for such a speed," added the proposed jockey, with a mixture of wounded vanity and sarcastic pride. He was beginning to regret rather bitterly his impulsive and wholly generous offer. In time he might become accustomed to English manners. Just now they hurt him more than he would have confessed. His whole early life had been one which had fostered his natural buoyant impulsiveness of spirit, and had made him young beyond his years. It had been called his "pose." But that pose, which was more than half nature, was a singularly unfortunate thing for a man thrown upon the world, in a strange country, among new manners, through which he must find his way. And just now, while the Englishmen concluded various arrangements for their plan, he was struggling with his temper, and only won the battle when Trevor and Rockwell finally rose to depart. Vincent was returning to the plantation, and the clergyman, with Lucy in his mind, purposed accompanying him.
"Coming, Charles?" asked his cousin.
Fairfield hesitated. The plantation held out no special inducement to him. His blood had been heated, and he was eager for some excitement after a long period of inertia. "I think not, Vincent, since you have company. If Jennings, here, cannot put me up for the night, I'll go up to Mrs. Miriam's, or to Reynolds'."
"I'll ride with you, Trevor. I can cross the river at King's Ferry. My people will expect me to-night. Our town house is shut."
"Very well. I leave you, then, Charles. You'll ride out in the morning with M. de Mailly and Carleton."
"Ay, and me, too," called young Carroll after him. "I'll see Castor rode with the rest of you, and, egad, I'll go to the race as well!"
"We shall be delighted, Charles," replied Vincent, as he left the room.
"Until to-morrow, then. Good-day, sir," said Paca, bowing with courtly politeness to Claude, who liked him thenceforth.
The four who remained in the jockey-club-room sat silent together for some moments after they had been left alone. Then Claude, looking at young Charles, rose.