In that case, perhaps you will let my
friends help you fill your larder."
Richard Bassett hesitated a moment; but Wheeler, who had drawn near at
the sound of the raised voices, made him a signal to assent.
"By all means," said he, adroitly. "Mr. Markham, your father often shot
with mine over the Bassett estates. You are welcome to poor little
'Splatchett's.' Keep your men off, Sir Charles; they are noisy
bunglers, and do more harm than good. Here, Tom! Bill! beat for the
gentlemen. They shall have the sport. I only want the birds."
Sir Charles drew back, and saw pheasant after pheasant thunder and whiz
into the air, then collapse at a report, and fall like lead, followed
by a shower of feathers.
His friends seemed to be deserting him for Richard Bassett. He left
them in charge of his keepers, and went slowly home.
He said nothing to Lady Bassett till night, and then she got it all
from him. She was very indignant at many of the things; but as for Sir
Charles, all his cousin's arrows glided off that high-minded gentleman,
except one, and that quivered in his heart. "Yes, Bella," said he, "he
told me he should inherit these estates. That is because we are not
blessed with children."
Lady Bassett sighed. "But we shall be some day. Shall we not?"
"God knows," said Sir Charles, gloomily.
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