"Curse you for a proud fool," muttered the ruffian, as Anthony entered the house. "If Bill Mathews does not soon pull you down from your high horse, may his limbs rot in a jail." And calling to an ugly black cur, that was prowling round the garden, and whose physiognomy greatly resembled his own, the poacher slunk off.
"Anthony," said Frederic Wildegrave, as his cousin, in no very gentle mood, entered the house, "unexpected business calls me away for some weeks to a distant county. You must make yourself as comfortable as you can during my absence. Clary will do the honors of the house. By-the-by, I have just received four hundred pounds for the sale of the big marsh. I have not time to deposit the money in the bank; but will you see to it some time during the week. There is the key of my desk. You will find the money and the banker's book in the second drawer. And now, Clary, don't look so grave, but give me a kiss, and wish me back."
"I don't think that you will have any," said Clary flinging her arms round his neck. "My heart fills with gloom at the thought of your going away—and so suddenly."
"I shall come back as soon as I possibly can. What in tears. Silly child!"
"Don't go, dear Fred."
"Nonsense! Business must not be neglected."
"Something tells me that this journey is not for good."
"Dear Clary, I could quarrel with you for these superstitious fears. Farewell, my own darling—and joy be with you."
Kissing again and again the tears from Clarissa's cheek, and shaking Anthony warmly by the hand, the young master of the mansion sprang to his saddle and was gone, leaving Anthony and Clary to amuse themselves in the best manner they could.
"You must not forget, Anthony, that Fred has left you his banker. He is so generous that the money will be safer in your hands than in his own."