Cashel Byron's Profession

At last her maid returned and informed her that the canaille had

gone away. When she was again alone, she rose and walked slowly to

and fro through the room, forgetting the lapse of time in the

restless activity of her mind, until she was again interrupted, this

time by Bashville.

"Well?"

He was daunted by her tone; for he had never before heard her speak

haughtily to a servant. He did not understand that he had changed

subjectively, and was now her accomplice.

"He's given himself up."

"What do you mean?" she said, with sudden dismay.

"Byron, madam. I brought some clothes to the lodge for him, but when

I got there he was gone. I went round to the gates in search of him,

and found him in the hands of the police. They told me he'd just

given himself up. He wouldn't give any account of himself; and he

looked--well, sullen and beaten down like."

"What will they do with him?" she asked, turning quite pale.

"A man got six weeks' hard labor, last month, for the same offence.

Most probably that's what he'll get. And very little for what's he's

done, as you'd say if you saw him doing it, madam."

"Then," said Lydia, sternly, "it was to see this"--she shrank from

naming it--"this fight, that you asked my permission to go out!"

"Yes, madam, it was," said Bashville, with some bitterness. "I

recognized Lord Worthington and plenty more noblemen and gentlemen

there."

Lydia was about to reply sharply; but she checked herself; and her

usual tranquil manner came back as she said, "That is no reason why

you should have been there."

Bashville's color began to waver, and his voice to need increased

control. "It's in human nature to go to such a thing once," he said;

"but once is enough, at least for me. You'll excuse my mentioning

it, madam; but what with Lord Worthington and the rest of Byron's

backers screaming oaths and abuse at the other man, and the opposite

party doing the same to Byron--well, I may not be a gentleman; but I

hope I can conduct myself like a man, even when I'm losing money."

"Then do not go to such an exhibition again, Bashville. I must not

dictate to you what your amusements shall be; but I do not think you

are likely to benefit yourself by copying Lord Worthington's

tastes."

"I copy no lord's tastes," said Bashville, reddening. "You hid the

man that was fighting, Miss Carew. Why do you look down on the man

that was only a bystander?"