rove him back to the ultimate fact from which, indeed,
there was no escaping--that there was every prospect of his finding
himself, within a few weeks' time, the interesting centre of a common
affair in the Courts for Breach of Promise; and as this ultimate issue
shone clearer and clearer Robin's terror increased in volume. To his
excited fancy, living and dead seemed to turn upon him. Country
cousins--the Rev. George Trojan of West Taunton, a clergyman whose
evangelical tendencies had been the mock of the House; Colonel Trojan
of Cheltenham, a Port-and-Pepper Indian, as Robin had scornfully called
him; the Misses Trojan of Southsea, ladies of advanced years and
slender purses, who always sent him a card at Christmas; Mrs. Adeline
Trojan of Teignmouth, who had spent her life in beating at the doors of
London Society and had retired at last, defeated, to the provincial
gentility of a seaside town--Oh! Robin had laughed at them all and
scorned them again and again--and behold how the tables would be
turned! And the Dead! Their scorn would be harder still to bear. He
had thought of them often enough and had long ago known their histories
by heart. He had gazed at their portraits in the Long Gallery until he
knew every line of their faces: old Lady Trojan of 1640, a little like
Rembrandt's "Lady with the Ruff," with her stern mouth and eyes and
stiff white collar--she must have been a lady of character! Sir
Charles Trojan, her son, who plotted for William of Orange and was
rewarded royally after the glorious Revolution; Lady Gossiter Trojan, a
woman who had taken active part in the '45, and used "The Flutes" as a
refuge for intriguing Jacobites; and, best of all, a dim black picture
of a man in armour that hung over the mantel-piece, a portrait of a
certain Sir Robert Trojan who had fought in the Barons' Wars and been a
giant of his times; he had always been Robin's hero and had formed the
centre of many an imaginary tapestry worked by Robin's brain--and now
his descendant must pay costs in a Breach of Promise Case!

They had all had their faults, those Trojans; some of them had robbed
and murdered with little compunction, but they had always had their
pride, they had never done anything really low--what they had done they
had done with a high hand; Robin would be the first of the family to
let them down. And it was rather curious to think that, three weeks
ago, it had been his father who was going to let them down.