A Millionaire of Yesterday [79]
"The favourite's done!"
"Nero the Second for a monkey!"
"Nero the Second romps in!"
"Iris! Iris! Iris wins!"
It was evident from the last shout and the gathering storm of excitement that, after all, it was to be a race They were well in sight now; Nero the Second and Iris, racing neck-and-neck, drawing rapidly away from the others. The air shook with the sound of hoarse and fiercely excited voices.
"Nero the Second wins!"
"Iris wins!
Neck-and-neck they passed the post. So it seemed at least to Ernestine and many others, but Trent shook his head and looked at her with a smile.
"Iris was beaten by a short neck," he said. "Good thing you didn't back her. That's a fine horse of the Prince's, though!"
"I'm so sorry," she cried. "Are you sure?"
He nodded and pointed to the numbers which were going up. She flashed a sudden look upon him which more than compensated him for his defeat. At least he had earned her respect that day, as a man who knew how to accept defeat gracefully. They walked slowly up the paddock and stood on the edge of the crowd, whilst a great person went out to meet his horse amidst a storm of cheering. It chanced that he caught sight of Trent on the way, and, pausing for a moment, he held out his hand.
"Your horse made a magnificent fight for it, Mr. Trent," he said. "I'm afraid I only got the verdict by a fluke. Another time may you be the fortunate one!"
Trent answered him simply, but without awkwardness. Then his horse came in and he held out his hand to the crestfallen jockey, whilst with his left he patted Iris's head.
"Never mind, Dick," he said cheerfully, "you rode a fine race and the best horse won. Better luck next time."
Several people approached Trent, but he turned away at once to Ernestine.
"You will let me take you to Lady Tresham now," he said.
"If you please," she answered quietly.
They left the paddock by the underground way. When they emerged upon the lawn the band was playing and crowds of people were strolling about under the trees.
"The boxes," Trent suggested, "must be very hot now!"
He turned down a side-walk away from the stand towards an empty seat under an elm-tree, and, after a moment's scarcely perceptible hesitation, she followed his lead. He laughed softly to himself. If this was defeat, what in the world was better?
"This is your first Ascot, is it not?" she asked.
"My first!"
"And your first defeat?"
"I suppose it is," he admitted cheerfully. "I rather expected to win, too."
"You must be very disappointed, I am afraid."
"I have lost," he said thoughtfully, "a gold cup. I have gained - "
She half rose and shook out her skirts as though about to leave him. He stopped short and found another conclusion to his sentence.
"Experience!"
A faint smile parted her lips. She resumed her seat.
"I am glad to find you," she said, "so much of a philosopher. Now talk to me for a few minutes about what you have been doing in Africa."
He obeyed her, and very soon she forgot the well dressed crowd of men and women by whom they were surrounded, the light hum of gay conversation, the band which was playing the fashionable air of the moment. She saw instead the long line of men of many races, stripped to the waist and toiling as though for their lives under a tropical sun, she saw the great brown water-jars passed down the line, men fainting beneath the burning sun and their places taken by others. She heard the shrill whistle of alarm, the beaten drum; she saw the spade exchanged for the rifle, and the long line of toilers disappear behind the natural earthwork which their labours had created. She saw black forms rise stealthily from the long, rank grass, a flight of quivering spears, the horrid battle-cry of the natives rang in her ears. The whole drama of the man's great past rose up before her eyes, made a living and real thing by his simple but vigorous language. That he effaced himself from it went for nothing; she saw him there perhaps more clearly than anything else, the