Titmouse soon got pretty communicative with Miss Macspleuchan, and told her about the Tag-rags, Miss Tag-rag, and Miss Quirk, both of whom were absolutely dying of love for him, and thought he was in love with them, which was not the case—far from it. Then he hinted something about a most particular uncommon lovely gal that had his heart, and he hoped to have hers, as soon as he had got all to rights at Yatton. Then he described the splendid style in which he was going down to take possession of his estates. Having finished this, he told her that he had been the morning before to see a man hanged for murdering his wife; that he had been into the condemned cell, and then into the press-room, and had seen his hands and arms tied, and shaken hands with him; and he was going into such a sickening minuteness of detail, that to avoid it Miss Macspleuchan, who felt both shocked and disgusted, suddenly asked him if he was fond of heraldry; and rising from the sofa, she went into the second room, where, on an elegant and antique stand, lay a huge roll of parchment, on a gilded stick, splendidly mounted and most superbly illuminated,—it was about three-quarters of a yard in breadth, and some ten or twenty feet in length. This was the Pedigree of the Dreddlingtons. She was giving him an account of Simon de Drelincourt, an early ancestor of the earl's, who had come over with William the Conqueror, and performed stupendous feats of valor at the battle of Hastings, Titmouse listening in open-mouthed awe, and almost trembling to think that he had broken a valuable dish belonging to a nobleman who had such wonderful ancestors; not, at the moment, adverting to the circumstance that he was himself descended from the very same ancestors, and had as rich blood in him as the earl and Lady Cecilia—when a servant entered and informed him in a whisper that "his carriage had arrived." He considered that etiquette required him to depart immediately.
"Beg your pardon; but if ever you should come down to my estate in the country, shall be most uncommon proud to see your Ladyship."
"I beg your pardon; you are mistaken, sir," interrupted Miss Macspleuchan, hastily, and blushing scarlet; the fact being that Titmouse had not caught her name on its having been once or twice pronounced by Lady Cecilia; and very naturally concluded that she also must be a lady of rank. Titmouse was, however, so occupied with his efforts to make a graceful exit, that he did not catch the explanation of his mistake; and, bowing almost down to the ground, reached the landing, where the tall servant, with a very easy grace, gave him his hat and cane, and preceded him down-stairs. As he descended, he felt in his pockets for some loose silver, and gave several shillings between the servants who stood in the hall to witness his departure; after which, one of them having opened the door and gently let down the steps of the glass-coach, Titmouse popped into it.
"Home, sir?" inquired the servant, as he closed the door.
"The Cabbage-Stalk Hotel, Covent Garden," replied Titmouse, with an affected drawl.
His answer was communicated to the coachman, who thereupon addressed a sharp argument to the brace of meek and skinny horses, standing with downcast heads before him—which they lifted up—then they got into motion—and away rumbled the glass-coach. As soon as its distinguished inmate had become calm enough to reflect upon the events of the evening, he came to the conclusion that the Earl of Dreddlington was a very great man indeed; the Lady Cecilia very beautiful, but rather proud; and Miss Macspleuchan (Lady Somebody, as he supposed) one of the most interesting ladies whom he had ever met with; that there was something uncommon pleasing about her: in short, he felt a sort of grateful attachment towards her; but how long it would have lasted after his hearing that she was only a plain miss, and a poor relation, I leave the acute reader to conjecture.
CHAPTER VI
Mr. Gammon was with Titmouse about half-past nine o'clock the next morning, not a little anxious to hear how that young gentleman had got on over-night; but met with a totally different reception from any that he had before experienced.
He imagined for a few minutes that Lord Dreddlington had been pumping Titmouse; had learned from him his position with respect to Gammon, in particular; and had injected distrust and suspicion into the mind of Titmouse, concerning him. But Gammon, with all his acuteness, was quite mistaken. The truth was, 'twas only an attempt on the part of poor Titmouse to assume the composed demeanor, the languid elegance, which he had observed in the distinguished personages with whom he had spent the preceding evening, and which had made a very deep impression on his little mind. He drawled out his words, looked as if he were half asleep, and continually addressed Gammon as "Sir," and "Mr. Gammon," just as the Earl of Dreddlington had constantly addressed him—Titmouse. Our friend was sitting at breakfast, on the present occasion, in a most gaudy dressing-gown, and with the newspaper before him; in short, his personal appearance and manner were totally different from what Gammon had ever previously witnessed; and he looked now and then at Titmouse, as if for a moment doubting his identity. Whether or not he was now on the point of throwing overboard those who had piloted him from amid the shoals of poverty into the open sea of affluence, shone upon by the vivid sunlight of rank and distinction, Gammon did not know; but he contracted his brow, and assumed a certain sternness and peremptoriness of tone and bearing, which were not long in reducing Titmouse to his proper dimensions; and when at length Mr. Gammon entered upon the delightful subject of the morrow's expedition, telling him that he, Gammon, had now nearly completed all the preparations for going down to, and taking possession of Yatton in a style of suitable splendor, according to the wish of Titmouse—this quickly melted away the thin coating of mannerism, and Titmouse was "himself again." He immediately gave Mr. Gammon a full account of what had happened at Lord Dreddlington's, and, I fear, of a great deal more, which might, possibly, have happened, but certainly had not, e. g. his Lordship's special laudation of Mr. Gammon as a "monstrous fine lawyer," which Titmouse swore were the very exact words of his Lordship, who "would have been most happy to see Mr. Gammon," and a good deal to the like effect. Also that he—Titmouse—had been "most uncommon thick" with "Lady Cicely," (so he pronounced her name;) and that both she and Lord Dreddlington had "pressed him very hard to go with them to a ball at a duke's!" He made no mention of the broken trifle-dish; said they had nearly a dozen servants to wait on them, and that there were twenty different sorts of wine, and no end of courses, at dinner. That the earl wore a star, and garter, and ribbons—which Gammon erroneously thought as apocryphal as the rest; and had told him that he—Titmouse—might one day wear them, and sit in the House of Lords; and had, moreover, advised him most strenuously to get into Parliament as soon as possible, as the "cause of the people wanted strengthening." [As Lord Coke, somewhere says, in speaking of a spurious portion of the text of Lyttleton, "that arrow came never out of Lyttleton's quiver"—so Gammon instantly perceived that the last sentence came never out of Titmouse's own head, but came plainly marked as that of a wise and able man and statesman.]
As soon as Titmouse had finished his little romance, Gammon proceeded to the chief object of his visit—their next day's journey. He said that he much regretted to inform Titmouse that Mr. Snap had expressed a very anxious wish to witness the triumph of Mr. Titmouse; and that unless he had some particular objection—"Oh none, 'pon honor!—poor Snap!—devilish good chap in a small way!" said Titmouse, in a most condescending manner, and at once gave his consent—Gammon informing him that Mr. Snap would be obliged to return to town by the next day's coach. The reader will smile when I tell him, and if a lady, will frown when she hears, that Miss Quirk was to be of the party—a point which her anxious father had secured some time before. Mrs. Alias had declared that she saw no objection, as Mr. Quirk would be constantly with his daughter, and Gammon had appeared most ready to bring about so desirable a result. He had also striven hard, unknown to his partners, to increase their numbers, by the Tag-rags, who might have gone down, all three of them, if they had chosen, by coach, and so have returned. Gammon conceived that this step might not have been unattended with advantage in several ways; and would, moreover, have secured him a considerable source of amusement. Titmouse, however, would not listen to the thing for one moment, and Gammon was forced to give up his little scheme. Two dashing young fellows, fashionable friends of Titmouse, (who had picked them up, Heaven only knows where, but they never deserted him,) infinitely to Gammon's annoyance, were to be of the party. He had seen them but once, when he had accompanied Titmouse to the play, where they soon joined him. One was a truly disgusting-looking fellow—a Mr. Pimp Yahoo—a man about five-and-thirty years old, tall, with a profusion of black hair parted down the middle of his head, and falling down in long clustering curls from each temple upon his coat-collar. His whiskers also were ample, and covered two-thirds of his face, and spread in disgusting amplitude round his throat. He had also a jet-black tuft—an imperial—depending from his underlip. He had an execrable eye—full of insolence and sensuality; in short, his whole countenance bespoke the thorough debauchee and ruffian. He had been, he said, in the army; and was nearly connected, according to his own account—as with fellows of this description is generally the case—with "some of the first families in the North!" He was now a man of pleasure about town—which contained not a better billiard-player, as the admiring Titmouse had had several painful opportunities of judging. He was a great patron of the ring—knowing all their secrets—all their haunts. He always had plenty of the money of other people, and drove about in a most elegant cab, in which Titmouse had often had a seat; and as soon as Mr. Yahoo had extracted from his communicative little companion all about himself, that astute gentleman made it his business to conciliate Titmouse's good graces by all the arts of which he was master—and he succeeded. The other chosen companion of our friend was Mr. Algernon Fitz-Snooks; a complete fool. He was the sole child of a rich tradesman—who had christened him by the sounding name given above; and afterwards added the patrician prefix to the surname, which also you see above, in order to gratify his wife and son. The youth had never "taken to business"—but was allowed to saunter about, doing, and knowing, nothing, till about his twenty-second year, when his mother died, as also a year afterwards did his father, bequeathing to his hopeful son some fifty thousand pounds—absolutely and uncontrolledly. Mr. Algernon Fitz-Snooks very judiciously thought that youth was the time to enjoy life; and before he had reached his thirtieth year, he had got through all his fortune except about five or six thousand pounds—in return for which, he had certainly got something; viz. an impaired constitution and a little experience, which might, possibly, at some future time, be useful. He had a pleasing face, regular features, and interesting eyes; his light hair curled "deliciously;" and he spoke in a sort of lisp and in a low tone—and, in point of dress, always "turned out" beautifully. He, also, had a cab, and was a great friend of Mr. Yahoo, who had introduced him into a great deal of high society, principally in St. James's Street; where both he and Mr. Yahoo had passed a great deal of their time, especially during the night! There was no intentional mischief in poor Fitz-Snooks: nature had made him only a fool—his prudent parents had done the rest; and if he fell into vice, it was only because—as people say—"he couldn't help it." Such were the chosen companions of Titmouse; the one a fool, the other a rogue—and "he must," he said, "have them down to the jollifying at Yatton." A groom and a valet—both impudent knaves, and both newly hired the day before—would complete the party of the morrow. Gammon assured Titmouse that he had taken all the pains in the world to get up a triumphant entry into Yatton; his agents at Grilston, Messrs. Bloodsuck and Son—the Radical electioneering attorneys of the county—who were well versed in the matter of processions, bands, flags, &c. &c. &c., had by that time arranged everything, and they were to be met, when within a mile of Yatton, by a grand procession. The people at the Hall, also, were under orders from Mr. Gammon, through Messrs. Bloodsuck and Son, to have all in readiness—and a banquet prepared for nearly a hundred persons—in fact, all comers were to be welcome. To all this Titmouse listened with eyes glistening, and ears tingling with rapture; but can any tongue describe his emotion, on being apprised that the sum of £2,500, in the banker's hands, was now at his disposal—that it would be doubled in a few weeks—and that a check for £500, drawn by Mr. Titmouse on the London agents of the Grilston bankers, had been honored on the preceding afternoon? Titmouse's heart beat fast, and he felt as if he could have worshipped Gammon. As for the matter of carriages, Mr. Gammon said, that probably Mr. Titmouse would call that morning on Mr. Axle, in Long Acre, and select one to his mind—it must of course be one with two seats—and Mr. Gammon had pointed out several which were, he thought, eligible, and would be shown to Mr. Titmouse. That would be the carriage in which—he presumed—Mr. Titmouse himself would travel; the second, Mr. Gammon had taken the liberty of already selecting. With this, Mr. Gammon (just as the new valet brought in no fewer than a dozen boxes of cigars ordered over-night by Titmouse) shook his hand and departed, saying that he should make his appearance at the Cabbage-Stalk the next morning, precisely at eleven o'clock—about which time it was arranged they were all to start. Titmouse hardly knew how to contain himself, on being left alone. About an hour afterwards, he made his appearance at Mr. Axle's: who, worthy and indefatigable man, carried on two businesses, one public, i. e. that of a coach-builder—one private, i. e. that of a money-lender. He was a rich man—a very obliging and "accommodating" person, by means of which latter quality he had amassed a fortune of, it was believed, a hundred thousand pounds. He never made a fuss about selling on credit—or lending, taking back, or exchanging, carriages of all descriptions; nor in discounting the bills of his customers, to any amount. He proved generally right, in each case, in the long rim. He would supply his fashionable victim with as splendid a chariot, and funds to keep it some time going, as he or she could desire; well knowing that in due time, after they should have taken a few turns in it about the parks, and a few streets and squares in the neighborhood, it would quietly drive up to one or two huge dingy fabrics in a different part of the town, where it would deposit its burden, and then return to its maker very little the worse for wear; who took it back at about a twentieth part of its cost, and soon again disposed of it in a way equally advantageous to himself. Mr. Axle showed Mr. Titmouse very obsequiously over his premises, pointing out (as soon as he knew who his visitor was,) the carriages which Mr. Gammon had the day before desired should be shown to him; and which Mr. Titmouse, with his glass stuck in his eye—where it was kept by the pure force of muscular contraction—examined with something like the air of a connoisseur—occasionally rapping with his agate-headed cane—now against his teeth, then against his legs. He did not seem perfectly satisfied with any of them; they looked—he said—"devilish plain and dull."
"Hollo—Mr. Axletree, or whatever your name is—what have we here? 'Pon my soul, the very thing!"—he exclaimed, as his eye caught a splendid object—the state-carriage of the ex-sheriff, with its gorgeously decorated panels: which, having been vamped up for some six or seven successive shrievalties—(being on each occasion heralded to the public by laudatory paragraphs in the newspapers, as entirely new and signal instances of the taste and magnificence of the sheriff-elect)—seemed now perfunctus officio. Mr. Axle was staggered for a moment, and scarce supposed Mr. Titmouse to be in earnest—Gammon having given him no inkling of the real character of Titmouse; but observing the earnest steadfast gaze with which he regarded the glittering object, having succeeded in choking down a sudden fit of laughter, Mr. Axle commenced a most seductive eulogium upon the splendid structure—remarking on the singularity of the circumstance of its happening just at that exact moment to be placed at his disposal by its former owner—a gentleman of great distinction, who had no longer any occasion for it. Mr. Axle declared that he had had numerous applications for it already; on hearing which, Titmouse got excited. The door was opened—he got in; sat on each seat—"Don't it hang beautifully?" inquired the confident proprietor, testing, by pressure, the elasticity of the springs, as he spoke.
"Let me see, who was it that was after it yesterday? Oh—I think it was Sir Fitzbiscuit Gander; but I've not closed with him yet!"
"What's your price, Mr. Axletree?" inquired Titmouse, rather heatedly, as he got out of the carriage.
After some little higgle-haggling he bought it!!!—for there was nothing like closing at once, where there was keen competition! Mr. Gammon—thought Titmouse—could not have seen this beautiful vehicle when making his choice on the preceding morning! For the rest of the day he felt infinitely elated at his fortunate purchase; and excited his imagination by pictures of the astonishment and admiration which his equipage must call forth on the morrow. Punctual to his appointment, Mr. Gammon, a few moments before the clock had struck eleven on the ensuing morning, drew up to the Cabbage-Stalk, as near at least as he could get to it, in a hackney-coach, with his portmanteau and carpet-bag. I say as near as he could; for round about the door stood a little crowd, gazing with a sort of awe on a magnificent vehicle standing there, with four horses harnessed to it. Gammon looked at his watch, as he entered the hotel, and asked why the sheriff's carriage was standing at the door. The waiter to whom he spoke, seemed nearly splitting with laughter, which almost disabled him from answering that the carriage in question was that of Mr. Titmouse, ready for setting off for Yorkshire. Mr. Gammon started back—turned pale, and seemed nearly dropping an umbrella which was in his hand.
"Mr. Titmouse's!" he echoed incredulously.
"Yes, sir—been here for this hour, at least, packing, such a crowd all the while; everybody thinks it's the sheriff, sir," replied the waiter, scarce able to keep his countenance. Mr. Gammon rushed up-stairs with greater impetuosity than he had perhaps ever been known to exhibit before, and burst into Mr. Titmouse's room. There was that gentleman, with his hat on, his hands stuck into his coat-pockets, a cigar in his mouth, and a tumbler of brandy and water before him. Mr. Yahoo, Mr. Fitz-Snooks, and Mr. Snap were similarly occupied; and Mr. Quirk was sitting down with his hands in his pockets, and a glass of negus before him, with anything but a joyful expression of countenance.
"Is it possible, Mr. Titmouse"–commenced Gammon, almost breathlessly.
"Ah, how d'ye do, Gammon?—punctual!" interrupted Titmouse, extending his hand.
"Forgive me—but can it be, that the monstrous thing now before the door, with a crowd grinning around it, is your carriage?" inquired Gammon, with dismay in his face.
"I—rather—think—it is," replied Titmouse, slightly disconcerted, but striving to look self-possessed.
"My dear sir," replied Gammon, in a kind of agony, "it is impossible! It never can be! Do you mean to say that you bought it at Mr. Axle's?"
"I should rather think so," replied Titmouse, with a piqued air.
"He's been grossly imposing on you, sir!—Permit me to go at once and get you a proper vehicle."
"'Pon my life, Mr. Gammon, I think that it's a monstrous nice thing—a great bargain—and I've bought it and paid for it, that's more."
"Gentlemen, I appeal to you," confidently said Gammon, turning in an agony to Mr. Yahoo and Mr. Fitz-Snooks.
"As for me, sir," replied the former, coolly, at the same time knocking off the ashes from his cigar;—"since you ask my opinion, I confess I rather like the idea—ha! ha! 'Twill produce a sensation; that's something in this dull life!—Eh, Snooks?"
"Ay—a—I confess I was a little shocked at first, but I think I'm getting over it now," lisped Mr. Fitz-Snooks, adjusting his shirt-collar, and then sipping a little of his brandy and water. "I look upon it, now, as an excellent joke; egad, it beats Chitterfield hollow, though he, too, has done a trick or two lately."
"Did you purchase it as a joke, Mr. Titmouse?" inquired Gammon, with forced calmness, nearly choked with suppressed fury.
"Why—a—'pon my life"—said Titmouse, with a desperate effort to appear at his ease—"if you ask me—wonder you don't see it! Of course I did!—Those that don't like it may ride, you know, in the other—can't they? Eh?"
"We shall be hooted at, laughed at, wherever we go," said Mr. Gammon, vehemently.
"Exactly—that's the novelty I like," said Mr. Yahoo, looking, as he spoke, at Mr. Gammon with a smile of ineffable insolence.
Mr. Gammon made him no reply, but fixed an eye upon him, under which he became plainly rather uneasy. He felt outdone. Talk of SCORN!—the eye of Gammon, settled at that instant upon Mr. Yahoo, was its complete and perfect representative; and from that moment the wretch Yahoo felt something like fear of the eye of man, or of submission to it. When, moreover, he beheld the manner in which Titmouse obeyed Gammon's somewhat peremptory request to accompany him out of the room for a moment, he resolved, if possible, to make a friend of Gammon. That gentleman failed, on being alone with Titmouse, in shaking his resolution to travel in the splendid vehicle standing at the door. Titmouse said that he had bought and paid for the carriage; it suited his taste—and where was the harm of gratifying it? Besides, it was already packed—all was prepared for starting. Gammon thereupon gave it up; and, swallowing down his rage as well, and as quickly as he could, endeavored to reconcile himself to this galling and most unexpected predicament.
It seemed that Miss Quirk, however really anxious to go down to Yatton—to do anything, in short, calculated to commit Mr. Titmouse to her—was quite staggered on discovering, and shocked at seeing, the kind of persons who were to be their travelling companions. As for Mr. Yahoo, she recoiled from him with horror at the very first glance. What decent female, indeed, would not have done so? She had retired to a bedchamber, soon after entering the Cabbage-Stalk; and, seeing her two unexpected fellow-travellers, presently sent a chambermaid to request her papa to come to her.
He found her considerably agitated. She wished earnestly to return to Alibi House; and consented to proceed on her journey only on the express promise of Mr. Titmouse and her papa, that no one should be in the carriage in which she went except her papa and Mr. Gammon—unless, indeed, Mr. Titmouse should think proper to make himself the fourth.
Mr. Quirk, on this, sent for Mr. Gammon, who, with a somewhat bad grace, ("Confound it!" thought he, "everything seems going wrong,") undertook to secure Mr. Titmouse's consent to that arrangement.
While Messrs. Quirk and Gammon were closeted together, one of the waiters entered the room occupied by Mr. Titmouse and his friends, and informed him that a lad had brought a parcel for him, which he, the aforesaid lad, had received special orders to deliver into the hands of Mr. Titmouse. Accordingly there was presently shown into the room a little knock-kneed lad, in tarnished livery, in whom Titmouse recollected the boy belonging to Mr. Tag-rag's one-horse chaise; and who gave a small parcel into Mr. Titmouse's hands, "with Mrs. and Miss Tag-rag's respectful respects."
As soon as he had quitted the room, "By Jove! What have we here?" exclaimed Titmouse, just a little flustered as he cut open the string of the parcel. Inside was a packet wrapped up in white paper, and tied in a pretty bow, with narrow white satin ribbons. This again, and another still, within it, having been opened—behold, there stood exposed to view, three fine cambric pocket-handkerchiefs, each of which, on being examined, proved to be marked with the initials "T. T." in hair; and Mr. Yahoo happening to unfold one of them, (in so doing, dropped upon it some of the ashes of his cigar,) lo! in the centre was—also done in hair—the figure of a heart transfixed with an arrow!!! Mr. Yahoo roared; and Mr. Fitz-Snooks lisped, "Is she pretty, Tit? Where's her nest? Any old birds?—eh?"
Titmouse colored a little; then grinned, and put his finger to the side of his nose, and winked his eye, as if favoring the bright idea of Mr. Fitz-Snooks. On a sheet of gilt-edged paper, and sealed with a seal bearing the tender words, "Forget me not," was written the following:
"Sir—Trusting you will excuse the liberty, I send you three best cambric pocket-handkerchiefs, which my daughter have marked with her own hair, and beg your acceptance of, hoping you may be resigned to all the good fortune that may befall you, which is the prayer of, dear sir, yours respectfully,
"Martha Tag-rag.
"P. S.—My daughter sends what you may please to wish and accept: and hope we have the great happiness to see you here again, when you return to town from your noble mansion in the country.
"Satin Lodge, 18th May 18—."
"Oh! the naughty old woman! Fie! Fie!" exclaimed Mr. Yahoo, with his intolerable smile.
"'Pon my soul, there's nothing in it," said Titmouse, reddening.
"Where's Satin Lodge?" lisped Mr. Fitz-Snooks.
"It is a country-house on the—the Richmond road," said Titmouse, with a little hesitation; and just then the return of Gammon, who had resumed his usual calmness of manner, relieved him from his embarrassment. Mr. Gammon had succeeded in effecting the arrangement suggested by Mr. Quirk and his daughter; and within about a quarter of an hour afterwards, behold the ex-sheriff's resplendent but cast-off carriage filled by Miss Quirk and Titmouse, and Mr. Quirk and Gammon—the groom and valet sitting on the coach-box; while in the other, a plain yellow carriage, covered with luggage, sat Mr. Yahoo, Mr. Fitz-Snooks, and Mr. Snap, all of them with lighted cigars—Snap never having been so happy in all his life as at that moment.
Mr. Titmouse had laid aside his cigar in compliment to Miss Quirk; who wore a long black veil, and an elegant light shawl, and looked uncommonly like a young bride setting off—oh, heavens!—thought she—that it had been so!—on her wedding excursion. Mr. Gammon slouched his hat over his eyes, and inclined his head downwards, almost collapsed with vexation and disgust, as he observed the grins and tittering of the group of spectators gathered round the carriage and doorway; but Titmouse, who was most splendidly dressed, took off his hat on sitting down, and bowed several times to—as he supposed—the admiring crowd.
"Get on, boys!" growled Mr. Gammon; and away they rattled, exciting equal surprise and applause whereever they went. Whoever had met them, must have taken Titmouse and Miss Quirk for a newly-married couple—probably the son or daughter of one of the sheriffs who had lent the state carriage to add éclat to the interesting occasion!
With the exception of the sensation produced at every place where they changed horses, the only incident during their journey worth noticing, occurred at the third stage from London. As they came dashing up to the door of the inn, their advent setting all the bells of the establishment ringing, and waiters and hostlers scampering up to them like mad, they beheld a plain and laden dusty travelling-carriage, waiting for horses—and Gammon quickly perceived it to be the carriage of the unfortunate Aubreys! The travellers had alighted. The graceful figure of Miss Aubrey, her face pale, and wearing an expression of manifest anxiety and fatigue, was standing near the door, talking kindly to a beggar-woman, with a cluster of half-naked children around her; while little Aubrey was romping about with Miss Aubrey's beautiful little spaniel Cato; Agnes looking on and laughing merrily, and trying to escape from the hand of her attendant. Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey were talking together, close beside the carriage-door. Gammon observed all this, and particularly that Mr. Aubrey was scrutinizing their appearance, with a sort of half-smile on his countenance, melancholy as it was.
"Horses on!" said Gammon, leaning back in the carriage.
"That's a monstrous fine woman standing at the inn door, Titmouse—eh?" exclaimed Mr. Yahoo, who had alighted for a moment, and stood beside the door of Titmouse's carriage, his execrable eye settled upon Miss Aubrey. "I wonder who and what she is? By Jove, 'tis the face—the figure of an angel! egad, they're somebody; I'll look at their panels!"
"I know who it is," said Titmouse, rather faintly; "I'll tell you by-and-by."
"Now, now! my dear fellow. Our divinity is vanishing," whispered Mr. Yahoo, eagerly, as Miss Aubrey, having slipped something into the beggar's hand, stepped into the carriage. As soon as her brother had entered, the door was closed, and they drove off.