indefinitely postponed. In case of this disaster Sir
George would have to sell everything to pay his mortgages and the money
he owed to Copley's estate. He would have to spend the rest of his days
in humble lodgings. There would be an end to the glories of Haredale.

But if the horse won! So much depended upon those four feet, upon those
wonderful staying powers of which Raffle had so frequently boasted.
Hitherto there had always been a weak spot in the Blenheim blood and it
might crop up at the very moment when so much depended upon bone and
muscle and sinew.

And if everything did go well, why, then, Sir George Haredale would be a
rich man again. Fielden would have more than he ever possessed before
and the tarnished glory of the family would be restored. As he stood,
quiet and reserved, he did not look like a man to whom the next
half-hour meant so much. But he thought that half-hour would never be
over.

The minutes wore on nevertheless. The roar and fret and murmur of the
crowd at last died down and the long winding ribbon of turf between the
masses of people began to manifest itself. The gay kaleidoscope of
colour gradually drifted into a ragged line at the post. Then a hoarse
roar broke out again.

"They're off!" May whispered, clutching Fielden frantically by the arm.
"You must tell me how the race is going. Positively, I haven't the
courage to look."

Fielden did not hear a word she said. He had no consciousness of those
tense nervous fingers on his arm. He stood like a statue with his racing
glasses glued to his eyes. He watched the streaming glow of colours
rigidly, until, presently, it seemed to him that one horse came floating
easily and gracefully apart from the rest and then his heart began to
sing within him. They came in much the same order round Tattenham
Corner. Then the roar intensified till everything seemed to shake and
rock, and Fielden trembled and could not see through his glasses. When
he finally adjusted them to his satisfaction, he was conscious of a
still deeper shout of gratification from the multitude. Then, as if in
response to the ringing cheers, the Blenheim colt drew almost
imperceptibly away from the ruck of horses and passed the winning-post a
good half length ahead. The Derby was ancient history now. The Blenheim
colt had won this classic race and a score or two of old friends were
gathering round Sir George to shake him by the hand. The victory was all
the more popular becaus