Indeed, nothing could have more delighted her now than merely the appearance of her “little pet” upon the track, if only to receive the words of praise from the spectators she felt sure she would. But, as it was a matter to be left entirely with the trainer, she now turned towards him, and handed him a roll of bills from her purse, saying as she did so: “You are doubtless in need of money for expenses. I shall send Thomas to you for your final decision.” So saying, she stepped into her carriage, which moved off in the direction of the clubhouse.
“Gad!” said the trainer. “Five thousand dollars! This reminds me of old times, when the master was living. Only when he gave me a roll like this it was with instructions to keep my eyes on ‘Bookies,’ and make them keep their odds right.”
The crowd had now commenced to flow into the grounds in droves and bunches. As the mistress, calm and collected, swept down the top balcony of the clubhouse to a position that commanded a full view of the course, admiring glances from every direction followed after her. Unattended as she was, and with manner of complete reserve and composure, she seemed wholly absorbed with her own thoughts.
Seated in a group just to her left, and but a few feet in front of her was Colonel Townsend, an old gentleman, with Major Campbell and two others—evidently horsemen, all earnestly engaged in a discussion of horses and races in general.
As she sat listening—as she was compelled to do—to some of the loud-spoken utterances of the group, she surveyed with interest the crowd below her, which was now growing larger and larger. She chanced to observe a man and a boy walking slowly along the track over in front of the stables.
Adjusting her field glasses she saw that it was her trainer and jockey. They appeared to be examining the track carefully, while the trainer pointed to a spot along the outside rail. They then disappeared. As they were leaving the track she could see the trainer shaking his head slowly, with his eyes bent upon the ground.
The pang of disappointment now rankled within her. She knew that Cassandra’s start had been discussed and that it was abandoned. She had never realized till now how thoroughly expectant she had been. Her thoughts took on the coloring of her insatiate longing with which she battled. Her mind passed in review all the struggles, all the regrets, all the vague fancies it had conjured when coupled with the bare name Cassandra.
“Yet,” thought she, “my husband named her. She was his favorite. Why shouldn’t she be mine? I could not help my attachment. Besides, I’m sure it must have grown strong—as it has—on his account. How I had wished to see her start, wished to hear her beauty praised by others!”
The band in the amphitheatre now struck up a lively air and the horses entered for the first race passed for review before the judges preparatory to going to the post. A stranger, who came pressing his way along the balcony until he had joined the group with Major Campbell, seated himself and looked intently at a programme he carried in his hand.
“Major,” he asked, “what entry is this in the handicap that I hear them call ‘the ghost’?”