Everything that a good and respectable mother could do Mrs. Bute did.

She got over yachting men from Southampton, parsons from the Cathedral

Close at Winchester, and officers from the barracks there. She tried to

inveigle the young barristers at assizes and encouraged Jim to bring

home friends with whom he went out hunting with the H. H. What will

not a mother do for the benefit of her beloved ones?

Between such a woman and her brother-in-law, the odious Baronet at the

Hall, it is manifest that there could be very little in common. The

rupture between Bute and his brother Sir Pitt was complete; indeed,

between Sir Pitt and the whole county, to which the old man was a

scandal. His dislike for respectable society increased with age, and

the lodge-gates had not opened to a gentleman's carriage-wheels since

Pitt and Lady Jane came to pay their visit of duty after their marriage.

That was an awful and unfortunate visit, never to be thought of by the

family without horror. Pitt begged his wife, with a ghastly

countenance, never to speak of it, and it was only through Mrs. Bute

herself, who still knew everything which took place at the Hall, that

the circumstances of Sir Pitt's reception of his son and

daughter-in-law were ever known at all.

As they drove up the avenue of the park in their neat and

well-appointed carriage, Pitt remarked with dismay and wrath great gaps

among the trees--his trees--which the old Baronet was felling entirely

without license. The park wore an aspect of utter dreariness and ruin.

The drives were ill kept, and the neat carriage splashed and floundered

in muddy pools along the road. The great sweep in front of the terrace

and entrance stair was black and covered with mosses; the once trim

flower-beds rank and weedy. Shutters were up along almost the whole

line of the house; the great hall-door was unbarred after much ringing

of the bell; an individual in ribbons was seen flitting up the black

oak stair, as Horrocks at length admitted the heir of Queen's Crawley

and his bride into the halls of their fathers. He led the way into Sir

Pitt's "Library," as it was called, the fumes of tobacco growing

stronger as Pitt and Lady Jane approached that apartment, "Sir Pitt

ain't very well," Horrocks remarked apologetically and hinted that his

master was afflicted with lumbago.

The library looked out on the front walk and park. Sir Pitt had opened

one of the windows, and was bawling out thence to the postilion and

Pitt's servant, who seemed to be about to take the baggage down.

"Don't move none of them trunks," he cried, pointing with a pipe which

he held in his hand. "It's only a morning visit, Tucker, you fool.

Lor, what cracks that off hoss has in his heels! Ain't there no one at

the King's Head to rub 'em a little? How do, Pitt? How do, my dear?

Come to see the old man, hay? 'Gad--you've a pretty face, too. You

ain't like that old horse-godmother, your mother. Come and give old

Pitt a kiss, like a good little gal."




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