back Geoffrey's opponent in the
Foot-Race for a sum equal to the sum which Perry had betted on Geoffrey
himself. "If you have got any money of your own on him," the letter
concluded, "do as I do. 'Hedge'--and hold your tongue."

"Another of 'em gone stale!" said the trainer, looking round again at
the sleeping man. "He'll lose the race."

CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SECOND.

SEEDS OF THE FUTURE (SECOND SOWING).

AND what did the visitors say of the Swans?

They said, "Oh, what a number of them!"--which was all that was to be
said by persons ignorant of the natural history of aquatic birds.

And what did the visitors say of the lake?

Some of them said, "How solemn!" Some of them said, "How romantic!" Some
of them said nothing--but privately thought it a dismal scene.

Here again the popular sentiment struck the right note at starting. The
lake was hidden in the centre of a fir wood. Except in the middle, where
the sunlight reached them, the waters lay black under the sombre shadow
of the trees. The one break in the plantation was at the farther end of
the lake. The one sign of movement and life to be seen was the ghostly
gliding of the swans on the dead-still surface of the water. It was
solemn--as they said; it was romantic--as they said. It was dismal--as
they thought. Pages of description could express no more. Let pages of
description be absent, therefore, in this place.

Having satiated itself with the swans, having exhausted the lake, the
general curiosity reverted to the break in the trees at the farther
end--remarked a startlingly artificial object, intruding itself on the
scene, in the shape of a large red curtain, which hung between two of
the tallest firs, and closed the prospect beyond from view--requested an
explanation of the curtain from Julius Delamayn--and received for answer
that the mystery should be revealed on the arrival of his wife with the
tardy remainder of the guests who had loitered about the house.

On the appearance of Mrs. Delamayn and the stragglers, the united party
coasted the shore of the lake, and stood assembled in front of the
curtain. Pointing to the silken cords hanging at either side of it,
Julius Delamayn picked out two little girls (children of his wife's
sister), and sent them to the cords, with instructions to pull, and
see what happened. The nieces of Julius pulled with the eager hands
of children in the presence of a mystery--the curtains parted in the
middle, and a cry