"Not a doubt of it. The White Lily blood, out of that Irish mare
D'Orleans Diamonds, too."

"Never mind! Tenth won't beat us. The Household will win safe enough,
unless Forest King goes and breaks his back over Brixworth--eh, Beauty?"
said the Seraph, who believed devoutly in his comrade, with all the
loving loyalty characteristic of the House of Lyonnesse, that to
monarchs and to friends had often cost it very dear.

"You put your faith in the wrong quarter, Rock; I may fail you, he never
will," said Cecil, with ever so slight a dash of sadness in his words;
the thought crossed him of how boldly, how straightly, how gallantly
the horse always breasted and conquered his difficulties--did he himself
deal half so well with his own?

"Well! you both of you carry all our money and all our credit; so for
the fair fame of the Household do 'all you know.' I haven't hedged a
shilling, not laid off a farthing, Bertie; I stand on you and the King,
and nothing else--see what a sublime faith I have in you."

"I don't think you're wise then, Seraph; the field will be very
strong," said Cecil languidly. The answer was indifferent, and certainly
thankless; but under his drooped lids a glance, frank and warm, rested
for the moment on the Seraph's leonine strength and Raphaelesque head;
it was not his way to say it, or to show it, or even much to think it;
but in his heart he loved his old friend wonderfully well.

And they talked on of little else than of the great steeple-chase of
the Service, for the next hour in the Tabak-Parliament, while the great
clouds of scented smoke circled heavily round; making a halo of Turkish