I, Thou, and the Other One: A Love Story
his saddle he had something of an advantage, as he called out in an angry voice,–

“And pray now, what are you to make by this business? Is it a bit of brass–or land–or power that you look forward to?”

“None of them. I have set my heart on the goal, and not on the prize. Let the men who come after me reap; I am glad enough if I may but plough and sow. The Americans–”

“Chaff, on the Americans! We are North-Riding men. We are Englishmen. We are sound-hearted, upstanding fellows who do our day’s work, enjoy our meat and drinking, pay our debts, and die in our beds; and we want none of 9 thy Reform talk! It is all scandalous rubbish! Bouncing, swaggering, new-fashioned trumpery! We don’t hold with Reformers, nor with any of their ways! I will listen to thee no longer. Thou mayst talk to my men, if they will be bothered with thee. I’m not afraid of anything thou canst say to them.”

9

“I think they will be bothered with me, Squire. They do not look like fools.”

“At any rate, there isn’t one Reform fool among them; but I’ll tell thee something–go to a looking-glass, and thou mayst shake thy fist in the face of one of the biggest fools in England,”–and to the laughter this sally provoked the Squire galloped away.

For a short distance, horse and rider kept up the pace of enthusiasm; but when the village was left behind, the Squire’s mood fell below its level; and a sudden depression assailed him. He had “thrown” his man; he had “threeped” him down in argument; but he had denied his son, and he brought a hungry heart from his victory. The bright face of his banished boy haunted the evening shadows; he grew sorrowfully impatient at the memories of the past; and when he could bear them no longer, he struck the horse a smart blow, and said angrily,–

“Dal it all! Sons and daughters indeed! A bitter, bitter pleasure!”

At this exclamation, a turn in the road brought him in sight of two horsemen. “Whew! I am 10 having a night of it!” he muttered. For he recognised immediately the portly figure of the great Duke of Richmoor, and he did not doubt that the slighter man at his side was his son, Lord Exham. The recognition was mutual; and on the Duke’s side very satisfactory. He quickened his horse’s speed, and cried out as he neared the Squire,–

10

“Well 
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