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anville

      Sir Hilton's Sin

      Chapter One.

      Auntie and her Darling

      “Don’t eat too much marmalade, Sydney dear. It may make you bilious.”

      “Oh, no, auntie dear, I’ll be careful.”

      “You have a great deal of butter on your bread, dear?”

      “Yes, auntie; that’s the beauty of it Miller says – ”

      “Who is Miller, Syd dear?”

      “Our chemistry chap at Loamborough. He shows us how when you mix acids and alkalis together they form new combinations which go off in gas.”

      “Indeed, dear! Your studies must be very interesting.”

      “Oh, they are, auntie – awfly. That’s how it is with the marmalade and the fresh butter – this is real fresh butter, isn’t it?”

      “Of course, dear. Whatever did you think it was?”

      “Dab, aunt dear. Margarine. That wouldn’t do, of course; but the marmalade’s nearly all sugar – that’s carbon – and the butters all carbon, too; and then there’s a lot of acid in the oranges, and it all combines, and one kills the other and does you good. It never hurts me. Shall I give you some game pie, auntie?”

      “Thank you, no, my dear, but you may pass me the dry toast. Thanks. Pass your cup, my child.”

      Sydney Smithers, who, to use his own term, had been “going in” deeply for the marmalade, went backwards in his arrangement of the breakfast comestibles, and helped himself liberally to the game pie, especially the gelatinous portion, glancing once at the pale, handsome, sedate-looking lady presiding at the head of the table ready to meet his eyes and bestow a smile upon the dear child, her nephew, who made the Denes his home, when he was not at Loamborough spending his last terms before commencing a college career.

      “Such a dear, sweet boy,” Lady Lisle often said to herself, as she beamed upon him blandly with thirty-five-year-old eyes, and idolised him, as she had no children of her own, and he was her own special training.

      “At it again,” said the boy to himself, as he glanced at the lady furtively; “more letters. Lady doctors, lady barristers. Blest if I don’t think she means to go in for a lady parson! More meetings to go to, auntie dear?” he said aloud.

      “Yes, my darling,” replied the lady, with a sigh and another affectionate beam upon the plump-looking darling intent upon the game pie. “The calls made upon my time are rather heavy. By and by, when you have grown up, I hope you will be able to help me.”

      “Why, of course I will, auntie. Didn’t I want to write that answer for you yesterday?”

      “Um – er – yes, my dear; but we must wait a little first. Your writing is not quite what I should like to see.”

      “No, auntie; it is a bit shaky yet. We don’t go in for writing much at Loamborough; we leave that to the Board School cads.”

      “And I should like you to be a little more careful over your spelling.”

      “Oh, Mullins, M.A., says that’ll all come right, auntie, when we’ve quite done with our classics.”

      “I hope so, my darling, and then you shall be my private secretary. I did hope at one time that I should win over your uncle to a love for my pursuits. But alas!”

      “Don’t seem in uncle’s way much, auntie, but he means right, uncle does. You wait till he’s in the House – he’ll make some of ’em sit up.”

      “I hope not, my dear child. I rather trust to his brother members leading him into a better way.”

      “Ah, I don’t think you ought to expect that, auntie,” said the “dear boy,” using his serviette to remove the high-water mark of coffee from an incipient moustache. “They go in for all-night sittings, you know.”

      “Yes, my dear, but only on emergencies, and for their country’s good.”

      “Walker!” said the “dear boy,” softly.

      “I used to think at one time that I should be able to wean him from his bad habit of lying in bed so late. If he would only follow your example of getting up early enough for a long walk or ride before breakfast!”

      “Nicest part of the day, auntie.”

      “Yes, my dear.”

      Lady Lisle sighed, and went on eating crumblets of dry toast and sipping her tea, as she opened and examined a pile of letters, many of which had a very charitable-institution-like look about them; and Sydney Smithers, her nephew, toiled pleasantly on at taking in stores, till his aunt sighed, glanced at the door, then at the clock, and then at her nephew.

      “Have you finished, Syd, my dear?”

      “Yes, auntie, quite.”

      “Ha!” sighed the lady, gathering up her letters, the boy springing up to assist her in carrying them to the side-table in the embayed window of the handsome room. “You will, I know, take advantage of your being with us, my dear, to avoid those of your poor dear uncle’s habits which your own good sense will teach you are not right.”

      “Oh, of course, auntie dear.”

      “And to follow those which are estimable.”

      “To be sure, auntie dear.”

      “For your uncle is at heart a noble and generous gentleman.”

      “Regular brick in some things, auntie,” said the “dear boy,” and Lady Lisle winced.

      “Try not to make use of more of those scholastic words, Syd dear, than you can help.”

      “All right, auntie, I won’t; but brick is right enough. Mullins, M.A., says it’s so suggestive of solidity and square firmness.”

      “Yes, my dear, of course, and I wish you to be firm; but, above all, be a gentleman, and – er – careful in your selection of your friends.”

      “Oh, yes, auntie; I am.”

      “You see, my dear, it is our misfortune that the Denes is situated here.”

      “But, auntie, it’s a jolly place.”

      “Yes, my dear; but it was quite a wreck from neglect till your uncle married me, and he – er – we restored the place – his ancestral home – to what it is.”

      “You did it up beautifully, auntie.”

      “Well, I hope I did, my dear child, but I have often regretted the money that was spent over a place situated as it is.”

      “Situated, auntie? Why, it’s lovely.”

      “Lovely by nature, my dear, but tainted and made ugly by the surroundings of the society which affects the district.”

      “Is it, auntie?”

      “Yes, my dear. I never could understand why it should be selected by those dreadful people for their sports and pastimes.”

      “You mean the racing, auntie?”

      “Yes, my dear” – with a shudder. “Tilborough has become a den of infamy – a place which attracts, so many times a year, all the ruffiandom of London, to leave its trail behind. The late Lord Tilborough used to encourage it with his stablings and horses, and – yes, it’s a great pity: the sweet innocency of the neighbourhood is destroyed.”

      “Yes, auntie.”

      “Of course, Lady Tilborough calls occasionally, and I am compelled to be civil to her; but I wish you to avoid all communication with her and her friends as much as possible.”

      “Oh, I never see her, auntie, except when she’s driving. I’ve met her sometimes when I’ve been out with uncle.”

      Lady Lisle winced. “Not lately, Sydney dear?” she said after a pause.

      “Not very lately, auntie. Last time it was when Dr Granton – ”

      “That person who comes and stays at Tilborough?”

      “Yes, auntie; uncle’s old friend.”

      Lady Lisle winced again.

      “He’s

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