No one had
injured the community in this way more fatally than Mr. Sowerby.
But still he carried on the game himself; and now, on this morning,
carriages and horses thronged at his gate, as though he were as
substantially rich as his friend the Duke of Omnium.
"Robarts, my dear fellow," said Mr. Sowerby, when they were well
under way down one of the glades of the forest,--for the place
where the hounds met was some four or five miles from the house of
Chaldicotes,--"ride on with me a moment. I want to speak to you; and
if I stay behind we shall never get to the hounds." So Mark, who had
come expressly to escort the ladies, rode on alongside of Mr. Sowerby
in his pink coat.
"My dear fellow, Fothergill tells me that you have some hesitation
about going to Gatherum Castle."
"Well, I did decline, certainly. You know I am not a man of pleasure,
as you are. I have some duties to attend to."
"Gammon!" said Mr. Sowerby; and as he said it, he looked with a kind
of derisive smile into the clergyman's face.
"It is easy enough to say that, Sowerby; and perhaps I have no right
to expect that you should understand me."
"Ah, but I do understand you; and I say it is gammon. I would be the
last man in the world to ridicule your scruples about duty, if this
hesitation on your part arose from any such scruple.
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