d the door.

"Yes, you know how Pluto hates to wait."

"That animal will be the death of me yet. Will you stand on the balcony
and watch me till I am out of sight? Have pretty manners--for once."

"Very well."

She went on to the balcony, watched him mount, and ride away. He turned
several times to gaze back at her picturesque figure, dim, but to him
lovely in the gathering dusk.

CHAPTER XXIII

Robert, after his interview with the priest, returned to his old
lodgings in a top floor of Vigo Street--for he had left Almouth House,
where Reckage's hospitality, kind as it was, suited neither his pride
nor his mood. He was greatly in debt, and although his salary from Lord
Wight and his literary earnings represented a sure income, it stood at
what he called the "early hundreds." The tastes, habits, and pursuits of
those with whom he spent his time were delightful, no doubt, but they
were costly. A box at the play; the cricket-match party, little dinners,
and a rubber of whist, or a quiet game of vingt-et-un; the lunches here,
the suppers there; the country houses where, in the winter, one could
dine and sleep and hunt the next day, and, in the autumn, shoot, and, in
the summer, flirt; the attendance at race-meetings, balls, and weddings;
journeys to the Continent, civilities everywhere,--in fact, the whole
business of society--no matter how modestly done--demands money. Most
young men are naturally fond of brilliant, light-hearted companions,
plenty of amusement, and that indescribable treasure known as the _joie
de vivre_. Orange was no exception to this rule, and there were many
hours when he tasted the bitterness of poverty, and felt the harsh
differences between the outward gifts bestowed by Fate. It was not that
he cared for luxuries, but it seemed hard that a horse should have to be
counted among them, and that it was necessary to work for twelve hours a
day in order to live at all, even as a dependent, among those with whom
he was, by right of birth and ability, the equal, and to whom he was, in
many cases, the superior. How many promising careers and brave hearts
have fallen short under the strain of a position so mortifying and
apparently so unjust! In public life, whether one joins the Church, the
Camp, the Senate, or the Arts, the trials of strength and courage are
most severe even to those who, in material circumstances at any rate,
are favourites of fortune. Neither influence nor riches avail much