d with him at present. But
when Richard's calculating mind came to give thought to the future he
found that this occasioned him some care. Rich ladies, even when they
do not happen to be equipped in addition with Ruth's winsome beauty and
endearing nature, are not wont to go unmarried. It would have pleased
Richard best to have had her remain a spinster. But he well knew that
this was a matter in which she might have a voice of her own, and it
behoved him betimes to take wise measures where possible husbands were
concerned.

The first that came in a suitor's obvious panoply was Anthony Wilding,
of Zoyland Chase, and Richard watched his advent with foreboding.
Wilding's was a personality to dazzle any woman, despite--perhaps even
because of--the reputation for wildness that clung to him. That he was
known as Wild Wilding to the countryside is true; but it were unfair--as
Richard knew--to attach to this too much importance; for the adoption
of so obvious an alliteration the rude country minds needed but a slight
encouragement.

From the first it looked as if Ruth might favour him, and Richard's
fears assumed more definite shape. If Wilding married her--and he was
a bold, masterful fellow who usually accomplished what he aimed at--her
fortune and estate must cease to be a pleasant pasture land for bovine
Richard. The boy thought at first of making terms with Wilding; the idea
was old; it had come to him when first he had counted the chances of his
sister's marrying. But he found himself hesitating to lay his proposal
before Mr. Wilding. And whilst he hesitated Mr. Wilding made obvious
headway. Still Richard dared not do it. There was a something in
Wilding's eye that cried him danger. Thus, in the end, since he
could not attempt a compromise with this fine fellow, the only course
remaining was that of direct antagonism--that is to say, direct as
Richard understood directness. Slander was the weapon he used in that
secret duel; the countryside was well stocked with stories of Mr.
Wilding's many indiscretions. I do not wish to suggest that these were
unfounded. Still, the countryside, cajoled by its primitive sense of
humour into that alliteration I have mentioned, found that having given
this dog its bad name, it was under the obligation of keeping up his
reputation. So it exaggerated. Richard, exaggerating those exaggerations
in his turn, had some details, as interesting and unsavoury as they were
in the main untrue, to