"
"Still, you will be under a disadvantage, for it will be a punishing
race for horse and man."
"Yes, sir."
"And--you will do your best, of course, Horatio?"
"Of course, sir."
"But--Horace, may I ask you to remember--that your father has--only
one son?"
"Yes, sir,--and, father, may I tell you that--that thoughtless
though he may be, he never forgets that--he _is_ your son!" Saying
which the Viscount leaned down from his saddle, with his hand
stretched out impulsively, and, this time, his father's clasp was
very light and gentle. So the Earl bowed, and turning, walked away.
"He's--deuced Roman, of course, Bev," said the Viscount, staring
hard after his father's upright figure, "but there are times when
he's--rather more--than human!" And sighing, the Viscount nodded and
rode off.
"Only ten minutes more, sir!" said Martin.
"Well, I'm ready, Martin," answered Barnabas, and, setting the rose
in his breast very securely, he swung himself lightly into the saddle,
and with the old groom at "The Terror's" head, paced slowly out of
the paddock towards the starting post.
Here a great pavilion had been set up, an ornate contrivance of silk
and gold cords, and gay with flags and bunting, above which floated
the Royal Standard of England, and beneath which was seated no less
ornate a personage than the First Gentleman in Europe--His Royal
Highness the Prince Regent himself, surrounded by all that was
fairest and bravest in the Fashionable and Sporting World.
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