"Come, Mr. Carroll, since we are making your holiday together, let us go and finish it with a supper at my inn. You will forgive me, messieurs"—he turned to Sir Charles and Jennings—"you will forgive me that I do not propose a party of four. After the excitement of the cock-fight this afternoon, and my ride for to-morrow, we will make our evening quiet. You might be perhaps—how do you say—ennuyé—by it. Where shall we join you to-morrow?" He smiled gently as he beheld the lieutenant regarding him with knitted brows. Indeed, to Fairfield it seemed that the Frenchman had read his mind, and was bound to thwart his hopes of arranging a gentleman's night in Jennings' company.
"Come, come, monsieur, be more lenient. Dine with us at the 'Blue Balls' and join us in a game of écarté later."
"Eh, yes!" cried young Charles, eagerly. "'Twould be vastly more fun!" He pulled de Mailly's sleeve.
"No, no, Charles, not you! It—your father—damme, you ain't out of school yet, you know," stammered Jennings, voicing Fairfield's thought.
Carroll flushed hot with anger, and Claude bit his lip before he answered, quietly: "It is impossible that I should dine with you to-night, gentlemen, though I thank you for your kindness. Mr. Carroll is my guest."
Young Charles looked at him with sulky admiration. He was furious with Jennings, mortally ashamed of his youth, but still appreciative of de Mailly's tact. Fairfield, seeing nothing for it but to accept his disappointment gracefully, rose, seized Jennings by the arm, waved an au revoir to de Mailly, and with a, "Be at the 'Blue Balls' with your beasts at ten in the morning, and we'll ride out together," drew his willing companion away to their favorite night-haunt.
De Mailly looked after them as they passed through the door, and then stood still for an instant, considering. When he turned again to young Charles, the boy's face wore a new expression.
"I'm very sorry, monsieur, if I've spoiled your night. I should have gone home without you."
Claude started forward impulsively, and drew the boy's arm through his own. "En avant!" he cried, gayly. "Why, Charles, I'd rather you a thousand times over than any other blood in Annapolis. 'Tis a good race, yours. Your father is as gallant a gentleman as I have met, and you are his son. Come then, Charles, we'll drink to you both, to-night, in the oldest Madeira that Mistress Vawse will sell."
At a quarter to eleven o'clock on the following morning a party of three drew rein at the portico of the Trevor house. Young Carroll's holiday was over, and, despite his words to Vincent, he was again under St. Quentin's pleasant sway. Fairfield and Jennings bore visible traces of their manner of spending the previous night; but Claude's eyes were as bright as a bird's, his hand was steady on the bridle, and his nerves had been toned for the coming trial by a sound night's sleep. A group consisting of Vincent, the four ladies of his household, Will Paca, and George Rockwell, who, to Lucy's dismay, had stopped overnight with his host, greeted the new-comers merrily from the portico. When they had dismounted, and a black had taken their horses, the whole party proceeded leisurely to the rear of the house, past the small barn, the quarters, and the tobacco-houses, to the long, narrow stables, where the many horses for work and pleasure were kept. In front of these stables was a four-acre paddock, fenced off from the general grounds, and only to be entered through a wide gate to the south. Two hundred yards behind this paddock the tobacco-fields began, and the first of them was bounded by a broad ditch full of water, to be used for irrigation in dry seasons.