bject not pleasanter entered
his mind. He was thinking of the races that were coming off next week at
Heckleston Downs, and what sums of money might be made there, and how
hard it was that he should be excluded by fortune from that brilliant
lottery.

"Ah, Mrs. Julaper, is that you?"

Mrs. Julaper, who was still at the door, curtsied, and said, "I came,
Sir Bale, to see whether you'd please to like a jug of mulled claret,
sir."

"Not I, my dear. I'll take a mug of beer and my pipe; that homely solace
better befits a ruined gentleman."

"H'm, sir; you're not that, Sir Bale; you're no worse than half the
lords and great men that are going. I would not hear another say that of
you, sir."

"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Julaper; but you won't call _me_ out for
backbiting myself, especially as it is true, d----d true, Mrs. Julaper!
Look ye; there never was a Mardykes here before but he could lay his
hundred or his thousand pounds on the winner of the Heckleston Cup; and
what could I bet? Little more than that mug of beer I spoke of. It was
my great-grandfather who opened the course on the Downs of Heckleston,
and now _I_ can't show there! Well, what must I do? Grin and bear it,
that's all. If you please, Mrs. Julaper, I will have that jug of claret
you offered. I want spice and hot wine to keep me alive; but I'll smoke
my pipe first, and in an hour's time it will do."

When Mrs. Julaper was gone, he lighted his pipe, and drew near the
window, through which he looked upon the now fading sky and the twilight
landscape.

He smoked his pipe out, and by that time it had grown nearly dark. He
was still looking out upon the faint outlines of the view, and thinking
angrily what a little bit of luck at the races would do for many a man
who probably did not want it half so much as he. Vague and sombre as his
thoughts were, they had, like the darkening landscape outside, shape
enough to define their general character. Bitter and impious they
were--as those of egotistic men naturally are in suffering. And after
brooding, and muttering by fits and starts, he said:

"How many tens and hundreds of thousands of pounds will change hands at
Heckleston next week; and not a shilling in all the change and shuffle
will stick to me! How many a fellow would sell himself, like Dr.
Faustus, just for the knowledge of the name of the winner! But he's no
fool, and does not buy his own."

Something caught his eye; something moving on the wall