THE WAGER.
It might have been about six weeks after the events detailed in my last
chapter had occurred, that Curzon broke suddenly into my room one
morning before I had risen, and throwing a precautionary glance around,
as if to assure himself that we were alone, seized my hand with a most
unusual earnestness, and, steadfastly looking at me, said—
“Harry Lorrequer, will you stand by me?”
So sudden and unexpected was his appearance at the moment, that I
really felt but half awake, and kept puzzling myself for an explanation
of the scene, rather than thinking of a reply to his question;
perceiving which, and auguring but badly from my silence, he continued—
“Am I then, really deceived in what I believed to be an old and tried
friend?”
“Why, what the devil’s the matter?” I cried out. “If you are in a
scrape, why of course you know I’m your man; but, still, it’s only fair
to let one know something of the matter in the meanwhile.”
“In a scrape!” said he, with a long-drawn sigh, intended to beat the
whole Minerva press in its romantic cadence.
“Well, but get on a bit,” said I, rather impatiently; “who is the
fellow you’ve got the row with? Not one of ours, I trust?”
“Ah, my dear Hal,” said he, in the same melting tone as before—“How
your imagination does run upon rows, and broils, and duelling
rencontres,” (he, the speaker, be it known to the reader, was the
fire-eater of the regiment,) “as if life had nothing better to offer
than the excitement of a challenge, or the mock heroism of a meeting.”
As he made a dead pause here, after which he showed no disposition to
continue, I merely added—
“Well, at this rate of proceeding we shall get at the matter in hand,
on our way out to Corfu, for I hear we are the next regiment for the
Mediterranean.”
The observation seemed to have some effect in rousing him from his
lethargy, and he added—
“If you only knew the nature of the attachment, and how completely all
my future hopes are concerned upon the issue—”
“Ho!” said I, “so it’s a money affair, is it? and is it old Watson has
issued the writ? I’ll bet a hundred.”
“Well, upon my soul, Lorrequer,” said he, jumping from his chair, and
speaking with more energy than he had before evinced, “you are, without
exception, the most worldly-minded, cold-blooded fellow I ever met.
What have I said that could have led you to suppose I had either a duel
or a law-suit upon my hands this morning? Learn, once and for all, man,
that I am in love—desperately and over head and ears in love.”
“Et puis,” said I coolly.
“And intend to marry immediately.”
“Oh, very well,” said I; “the fighting and debt will come later, that’s
all. But to return—now for the lady.”
“Come, you must make a guess.”
“Why, then, I really must confess my utter inability; for your
attentions have been so generally and impartially distributed since our
arrival here, that it may be any fair one, from your venerable partner
at whist last evening, to Mrs. Henderson, the pastry-cook inclusive,
for whose macaroni and cherry-brandy your feelings have been as warm as
they are constant.”
“Come, no more quizzing, Hal. You surely must have remarked that lovely
girl I waltzed with at Power’s ball on Tuesday last.”
“Lovely girl! Why, in all seriousness, you don’t mean the small woman
with the tow wig?”
“No, I do not mean any such thing—but a beautiful creature, with the
brightest locks in Christendom—the very light-brown waving ringlets,
Dominicheno loved to paint, and a foot—did you see her foot?”
“No; that was rather difficult, for she kept continually bobbing up and
down, like a boy’s cork-float in a fish-pond.”
“Stop there. I shall not permit this any longer—I came not here to
listen to—”
“But, Curzon, my boy, you’re not angry?”
“Yes, sir, I am angry.”
“Why, surely, you have not been serious all this time?”
“And why not, pray?”
“Oh! I don’t exactly know—that is, faith I scarcely thought you were in
earnest, for if I did, of course I should honestly have confessed to
you that the lady in question struck me as one of the handsomest
persons I ever met.”
“You think so really, Hal?”
“Certainly I do, and the opinion is not mine alone; she is, in fact
universally admired.”
“Come, Harry, excuse my bad temper. I ought to have known you
better—give me your hand, old boy, and wish me joy, for with you aiding
and abetting she is mine to-morrow morning.”
I wrung his hand heartily—congratulating myself, meanwhile, how happily
I had got out of my scrape; as I now, for the first time, perceived
that Curzon was bona fide in earnest.
“So, you will stand by me, Hal,” said he.
“Of course. Only show me how, and I’m perfectly at your service. Any
thing from riding postillion on the leaders to officiating as
brides-maid, and I am your man. And if you are in want of such a
functionary, I shall stand in ‘loco parentis’ to the lady, and give her
away with as much ‘onction’ and tenderness as tho’ I had as many
marriageable daughters as king Priam himself. It is with me in marriage
as in duelling—I’ll be any thing rather than a principal; and I have
long since disapproved of either method as a means of ‘obtaining
satisfaction.’”
“Ah, Harry, I shall not be discouraged by your sneers. You’ve been
rather unlucky, I’m aware; but now to return: Your office, on this
occasion, is an exceedingly simple one, and yet that which I could only
confide to one as much my friend as yourself. You must carry my dearest
Louisa off.”
“Carry her off! Where?—when?—how?”
“All that I have already arranged, as you shall hear.”
“Yes. But first of all please to explain why, if going to run away with
the lady, you don’t accompany her yourself.”
“Ah! I knew you would say that, I could have laid a wager you’d ask
that question, for it is just that very explanation will show all the
native delicacy and feminine propriety of my darling Loo; and first, I
must tell you, that old Sir Alfred Jonson, her father, has some
confounded prejudice against the army, and never would consent to her
marriage with a red-coat—so that, his consent being out of the
question, our only resource is an elopement. Louisa consents to this,
but only upon one condition—and this she insists upon so firmly—I had
almost said obstinately—that, notwithstanding all my arguments and
representations, and even entreaties against it, she remains
inflexible; so that I have at length yielded, and she is to have her
own way.”
“Well, and what is the condition she lays such stress upon?”
“Simply this—that we are never to travel a mile together until I obtain
my right to do so, by making her my wife. She has got some trumpery
notions in her head that any slight transgression over the bounds of
delicacy made by women before marriage is ever after remembered by the
husband to their disadvantage, and she is, therefore, resolved not to
sacrifice her principle even at such a crisis as the present.”
“All very proper, I have no doubt; but still, pray explain what I
confess appears somewhat strange to me at present. How does so very
delicately-minded a person reconcile herself to travelling with a
perfect stranger under such circumstances?”
“That I can explain perfectly to you. You must know that when my
darling Loo consented to take this step, which I induced her to do with
the greatest difficulty, she made the proviso I have just mentioned; I
at once showed her that I had no maiden aunt or married sister to
confide her to at such a moment, and what was to be done? She
immediately replied, ‘Have you no elderly brother officer, whose years
and discretion will put the transaction in such a light as to silence
the slanderous tongues of the world, for with such a man I am quite
ready and willing to trust myself.’ You see I was hard pushed there.
What could I do?—whom could I select? Old Hayes, the paymaster, is
always tipsy; Jones is five-and-forty—but egad! I’m not so sure I’d
have found my betrothed at the end of the stage. You were my only hope;
I knew I could rely upon you. You would carry on the whole affair with
tact and discretion; and as to age, your stage experience would enable
you, with a little assistance from costume, to pass muster; besides
that, I have always represented you as the very Methuselah of the
corps; and in the grey dawn of an autumnal morning—with maiden
bashfulness assisting—the scrutiny is not likely to be a close one. So,
now, your consent is alone wanting to complete the arrangements which,
before this time to-morrow, shall have made me the happiest of
mortals.”
Having expressed, in fitting terms, my full sense of obligation for the
delicate flattery with which he pictured me as “Old Lorrequer” to the
Lady, I begged a more detailed account of his plan, which I shall
shorten for my reader’s sake, by the following brief expose.
A post-chaise and four was to be in waiting at five o’clock in the
morning to convey me to Sir Alfred Jonson’s residence, about twelve
miles distant. There I was to be met by a lady at the gate-lodge, who
was subsequently to accompany me to a small village on the Nore, where
an old college friend of Curzon’s happened to reside, as parson, and by
whom the treaty was to be concluded.
This was all simple and clear enough—the only condition necessary to
insure success being punctuality, particularly on the lady’s part. As
to mine I readily promised my best aid and warmest efforts in my
friend’s behalf.
“There is only one thing more,” said Curzon. “Louisa’s younger brother
is a devilish hot-headed, wild sort of a fellow; and it would be as
well, just for precaution sake, to have your pistols along with you,
if, by any chance, he should make out what was going forward—not but
that you know if any thing serious was to take place, I should be the
person to take all that upon my hands.”
“Oh! of course—I understand,” said I. Meanwhile I could not help
running over in my mind the pleasant possibilities such an adventure
presented, heartily wishing that Curzon had been content to marry by
bans or any other of the legitimate modes in use, without risking his
friend’s bones. The other pros and cons of the matter, with full and
accurate directions as to the road to be taken on obtaining possession
of the lady, being all arranged, we parted, I to settle my costume and
appearance for my first performance in an old man’s part, and Curzon to
obtain a short leave for a few days from the commanding officer of the
regiment.
When we again met, which was at the mess-table, it was not without
evidence on either side of that peculiar consciousness which persons
feel who have, or think they have, some secret in common, which the
world wots not of. Curzon’s unusually quick and excited manner would at
once have struck any close observer as indicating the eve of some
important step, no less than continual allusions to whatever was going
on, by sly and equivocal jokes and ambiguous jests. Happily, however,
on the present occasion, the party were otherwise occupied than
watching him—being most profoundly and learnedly engaged in discussing
medicine and matters medical with all the acute and accurate knowledge
which characterises such discussions among the non-medical public.
The present conversation originated from some mention our senior
surgeon Fitzgerald had just made of a consultation which he was invited
to attend on the next morning, at the distance of twenty miles, and
which necessitated him to start at a most uncomfortably early hour.
While he continued to deplore the hard fate of such men as himself, so
eagerly sought after by the world, that their own hours were eternally
broken in upon by external claims, the juniors were not sparing of
their mirth on the occasion, at the expense of the worthy doctor, who,
in plain truth, had never been disturbed by a request like the present
within any one’s memory. Some asserted that the whole thing was a puff,
got up by Fitz. himself, who was only going to have a day’s
partridge-shooting; others hinting that it was a blind to escape the
vigilance of Mrs. Fitzgerald—a well-known virago in the regiment—while
Fitz. enjoyed himself; and a third party, pretending to sympathise with
the doctor, suggested that a hundred pounds would be the least he could
possibly be offered for such services as his on so grave an occasion.
“No, no, only fifty,” said Fitz. gravely.
“Fifty! Why, you tremendous old humbug, you don’t mean to say you’ll
make fifty pounds before we are out of our beds in the morning?” cried
one.
“I’ll take your bet on it,” said the doctor, who had, in this instance,
reason to suppose his fee would be a large one.
During this discussion, the claret had been pushed round rather freely;
and fully bent, as I was, upon the adventure before me, I had taken my
share of it as a preparation. I thought of the amazing prize I was
about to be instrumental in securing for my friend—for the lady had
really thirty thousand pounds—and I could not conceal my triumph at
such a prospect of success in comparison with the meaner object of
ambition. They all seemed to envy poor Fitzgerald. I struggled with my
secret for some time—but my pride and the claret together got the
better of me, and I called out, “Fifty pounds on it, then, that before
ten to-morrow morning, I’ll make a better hit of it than you—and the
mess shall decide between us afterwards as to the winner.”
“And if you will,” said I, seeing some reluctance on Fitz.’s part to
take the wager, and getting emboldened in consequence, “let the
judgment be pronounced over a couple of dozen of champaigne, paid by
the loser.”
This was a coup d’etat on my part, for I knew at once there were so
many parties to benefit by the bet, terminate which way it might, there
could be no possibility of evading it. My ruse succeeded, and poor
Fitzgerald, fairly badgered into a wager, the terms of which he could
not in the least comprehend, was obliged to sign the conditions
inserted in the adjutant’s note-book—his greatest hope in so doing
being in the quantity of wine he had seen me drink during the evening.
As for myself, the bet was no sooner made than I began to think upon
the very little chance I had of winning it; for even supposing my
success perfect in the department allotted to me, it might with great
reason be doubted what peculiar benefit I myself derived as a
counterbalance to the fee of the doctor. For this, my only trust lay in
the justice of a decision which I conjectured would lean more towards
the goodness of a practical joke than the equity of the transaction.
The party at mess soon after separated, and I wished my friend good
night for the last time before meeting him as a bride-groom.
I arranged every thing in order for my start. My pistol-case I placed
conspicuously before me, to avoid being forgotten in the haste of
departure; and, having ordered my servant to sit up all night in the
guard-room until he heard the carriage at the barrack-gate, threw
myself on my bed, but not to sleep. The adventure I was about to engage
in suggested to my mind a thousand associations, into which many of the
scenes I have already narrated entered. I thought how frequently I had
myself been on the verge of that state which Curzon was about to try,
and how it always happened that when nearest to success, failure had
intervened. From my very school-boy days my love adventures had the
same unfortunate abruptness in their issue; and there seemed to be
something very like a fatality in the invariable unsuccess of my
efforts at marriage. I feared, too, that my friend Curzon had placed
himself in very unfortunate hands—if augury were to be relied upon.
Something will surely happen, thought I, from my confounded ill luck,
and all will be blown up. Wearied at last with thinking I fell into a
sound sleep for about three-quarters of an hour, at the end of which I
was awoke by my servant informing me that a chaise and four were drawn
up at the end of the barrack lane.
“Why, surely, they are too early, Stubber? It’s only four o’clock.”
“Yes, sir; but they say that the road for eight miles is very bad, and
they must go it almost at a walk.”
That is certainly pleasant, thought I, but I’m in for it now, so can’t
help it.
In a few minutes I was up and dressed, and so perfectly transformed by
the addition of a brown scratch-wig and large green spectacles, and a
deep-flapped waistcoat, that my servant, on re-entering my room, could
not recognise me. I followed him now across the barrack-yard, as, with
my pistol-case under one arm and a lantern in his hand, he proceeded to
the barrack-gate.
As I passed beneath the adjutant’s window, I saw a light—the sash was
quickly thrown open, and Curzon appeared.
“Is that you, Harry?”
“Yes—when do you start?”
“In about two hours. I’ve only eight miles to go—you have upwards of
twelve, and no time to lose. God bless you, my boy—we’ll meet soon.”
“Here’s the carriage, sir; this way.”
“Well, my lads, you know the road I suppose?”
“Every inch of it, your honour’s glory; we’re always coming it for
doctors and ‘pothecaries; they’re never a week without them.”
I was soon seated, the door clapped to, and the words “all right”
given, and away we went.
Little as I had slept during the night, my mind was too much occupied
with the adventure I was engaged in, to permit any thoughts of sleep
now, so that I had abundant opportunity afforded me of pondering over
all the bearings of the case, with much more of deliberation and
caution than I had yet bestowed upon it. One thing was certain, whether
success did or did not attend our undertaking, the risk was mine and
mine only; and if by any accident the affair should be already known to
the family, I stood a very fair chance of being shot by one of the
sons, or stoned to death by the tenantry; while my excellent friend
Curzon should be eating his breakfast with his reverend friend, and
only interrupting himself in his fourth muffin, to wonder “what could
keep them;” and besides for minor miseries will, like the little devils
in Don Giovanni, thrust up their heads among their better-grown
brethren, my fifty-pound bet looked rather blue; for even under the
most favourable light considered, however Curzon might be esteemed a
gainer, it might be well doubted how far I had succeeded better than
the doctor, when producing his fee in evidence. Well, well, I’m in for
it now; but it certainly is strange, all these very awkward
circumstances never struck me so forcibly before; and after all, it was
not quite fair of Curzon to put any man forward in such a transaction;
the more so, as such a representation might be made of it at the
Horse-Guards as to stop a man’s promotion, or seriously affect his
prospects for life, and I at last began to convince myself that many a
man so placed, would carry the lady off himself, and leave the adjutant
to settle the affair with the family. For two mortal hours did I
conjure up every possible disagreeable contingency that might arise. My
being mulcted of my fifty and laughed at by the mess seemed inevitable,
even were I fortunate enough to escape a duel with the fire-eating
brother. Meanwhile a thick misty rain continued to fall, adding so much
to the darkness of the early hour, that I could see nothing of the
country about me, and knew nothing of where I was.
Troubles are like laudanum, a small dose only excites, a strong one
sets you to sleep—not a very comfortable sleep mayhap—but still it is
sleep, and often very sound sleep; so it now happened with me. I had
pondered over, weighed, and considered all the pros, cons, turnings,
and windings of this awkward predicament, till I had fairly convinced
myself that I was on the high road to a confounded scrape; and then,
having established that fact to my entire satisfaction, I fell
comfortably back in the chaise, and sunk into a most profound slumber.
If to any of my readers I may appear here to have taken a very
despondent view of this whole affair, let him only call to mind my
invariable ill luck in such matters, and how always it had been my lot
to see myself on the fair road to success, only up to that point at
which it is certain, besides—but why explain? These are my confessions.
I may not alter what are matters of fact, and my reader must only take
me with all the imperfections of wrong motives and headlong impulses
upon my head, or abandon me at once.
Meanwhile the chaise rolled along, and the road being better and the
pace faster, my sleep became more easy; thus, about an hour and a half
after I had fallen asleep, passed rapidly over, when the sharp turning
of an angle distended me from my leaning position, and I awoke. I
started up and rubbed my eyes; several seconds elapsed before I could
think where I was or whither going. Consciousness at last came, and I
perceived that we were driving up a thickly planted avenue. Why,
confound it, they can’t have mistaken it, thought I, or are we really
going up to the house, instead of waiting at the lodge? I at once
lowered the sash, and stretching out my head, cried out, “Do you know
what ye are about, lads; is this all right?” but unfortunately, amid
the rattling of the gravel and the clatter of the horses, my words were
unheard; and thinking I was addressing a request to go faster, the
villains cracked their whips, and breaking into a full gallop, before
five minutes flew over, they drew up with a jerk at the foot of a long
portico to a large and spacious cut-stone mansion. When I rallied from
the sudden check, which had nearly thrown me through the window, I gave
myself up for lost: here I was vis a vis to the very hall-door of the
man whose daughter I was about to elope with, whether so placed by the
awkwardness and blundering of the wretches who drove me, or delivered
up by their treachery, it mattered not, my fate seemed certain; before
I had time to determine upon any line of acting in this confounded
dilemma, the door was jerked open by a servant in a sombre livery; who,
protruding his head and shoulders into the chaise, looked at me
steadily for a moment, and said, “Ah! then, doctor darlin’, but ye’re
welcome.” With the speed with which sometimes the bar of an air long
since heard, or the passing glance of an old familiar fact can call up
the memory of our very earliest childhood, bright and vivid before us,
so that one single phrase explained the entire mystery of my present
position, and I saw in one rapid glance that I had got into the chaise
intended for Dr. Fitzgerald, and was absolutely at that moment before
the hall-door of the patient. My first impulse was an honest one, to
avow the mistake and retrace my steps, taking my chance to settle with
Curzon, whose matrimonial scheme I foresaw was doomed to the untimely
fate of all those I had ever been concerned in. My next thought, how
seldom is the adage true which says “that second thoughts are best,”
was upon my luckless wager; for, even supposing that Fitzgerald should
follow me in the other chaise, yet as I had the start of him, if I
could only pass muster for half an hour, I might secure the fee, and
evacuate the territory; besides that there was a great chance of Fitz’s
having gone on my errand, while I was journeying on his, in which case
I should be safe from interruption. Meanwhile, heaven only could tell,
what his interference in poor Curzon’s business might not involve.
These serious reflections took about ten seconds to pass through my
mind, as the grave-looking old servant proceeded to encumber himself
with my cloak and my pistol-case, remarking as he lifted the latter,
“And may the Lord grant ye won’t want the instruments this time,
doctor, for they say he is better this morning;” heartily wishing amen
to the benevolent prayer of the honest domestic, for more reasons than
one, I descended leisurely, as I conjectured a doctor ought to do, from
the chaise, and with a solemn pace and grave demeanour followed him
into the house.
In the small parlour to which I was ushered, sat two gentlemen somewhat
advanced in years, who I rightly supposed were my medical confrères.
One of these was a tall, pale, ascetic-looking man, with grey hairs,
and retreating forehead, slow in speech, and lugubrious in demeanour.
The other, his antithesis, was a short, rosy-cheeked,
apoplectic-looking subject, with a laugh like a suffocating wheeze, and
a paunch like an alderman; his quick, restless eye, and full nether lip
denoting more of the bon vivant than the abstemious disciple of
Aesculapius. A moment’s glance satisfied me, that if I had only these
to deal with, I was safe, for I saw that they were of that stamp of
country practitioner, half-physician, half-apothecary, who rarely come
in contact with the higher orders of their art, and then only to be
dictated to, obey, and grumble.
“Doctor, may I beg to intrude myself, Mr. Phipps, on your notice? Dr.
Phipps or Mr. It’s all one; but I have only a license in pharmacy,
though they call me doctor.”
“Surgeon Riley, sir; a very respectable practitioner,” said he, waving
his hand towards his rubicund confrere.
I at once expressed the great happiness it afforded me to meet such
highly informed and justly celebrated gentlemen; and fearing every
moment the arrival of the real Simon Pure should cover me with shame
and disgrace, begged they would afford me as soon as possible, some
history of the case we were concerned for. They accordingly proceeded
to expound in a species of duet, some curious particulars of an old
gentleman who had the evil fortune to have them for his doctors, and
who laboured under some swelling of the neck, which they differed as to
the treatment of, and in consequence of which, the aid of a third party
(myself, God bless the mark!) was requested.
As I could by no means divest myself of the fear of Fitz.’s arrival, I
pleaded the multiplicity of my professional engagements as a reason for
at once seeing the patient; upon which I was conducted up stairs by my
two brethren, and introduced to a half-lighted chamber. In a large easy
chair sat a florid-looking old man, with a face in which pain and
habitual ill-temper had combined to absorb every expression.
“This is the doctor of the regiment, sir, that you desired to see,”
said my tall coadjutor.
“Oh! then very well; good morning, sir. I suppose you will find out
something new the matter, for them two there have been doing so every
day this two months.”
“I trust, sir,” I replied stiffly, “that with the assistance of my
learned friends, much may be done for you. Ha! hem! So this is the
malady. Turn your head a little to that side;” here an awful groan
escaped the sick man, for I, it appears, had made considerable
impression upon rather a delicate part, not unintentionally I must
confess; for as I remembered Hoyle’s maxim at whist, “when in doubt
play a trump,” so I thought it might be true in physic, when posed by a
difficulty to do a bold thing also. “Does that hurt you, sir?” said I
in a soothing and affectionate tone of voice. “Like the devil,” growled
the patient. “And here?” said I. “Oh! oh! I can’t bear it any longer.”
“Oh! I perceive,” said I, “the thing is just as I expected.” Here I
raised my eyebrows, and looked indescribably wise at my confrères.
“No aneurism, doctor,” said the tall one.
“Certainly not.”
“Maybe,” said the short man, “maybe it’s a stay-at-home-with-us tumour
after all;” so at least he appeared to pronounce a confounded
technical, which I afterwards learned was “steatomatous;” conceiving
that my rosy friend was disposed to jeer at me, I gave him a terrific
frown, and resumed, “this must not be touched.”
“So you won’t operate upon it,” said the patient.
“I would not take a thousand pounds and do so,” I replied. “Now if you
please gentlemen,” said I, making a step towards the door, as if to
withdraw for consultation; upon which they accompanied me down stairs
to the breakfast-room. As it was the only time in my life I had
performed in this character, I had some doubts as to the propriety of
indulging a very hearty breakfast appetite, not knowing if it were
unprofessional to eat; but from this doubt my learned friends speedily
relieved me, by the entire devotion which they bestowed for about
twenty minutes upon ham, rolls, eggs, and cutlets, barely interrupting
these important occupations by sly allusions to the old gentleman’s
malady, and his chance of recovery.
“Well, doctor,” said the pale one, as at length he rested from his
labours, “what are we to do?”
“Ay,” said the other,” there’s the question.”
“Go on,” said I, “go on as before; I can’t advise you better.” Now,
this was a deep stroke of mine; for up to the present moment I do not
know what treatment they were practising; but it looked a shrewd thing
to guess it, and it certainly was civil to approve of it.
“So you think that will be best.”
“I am certain—I know nothing better,” I answered.
“Well, I’m sure, sir, we have every reason to be gratified for the very
candid manner you have treated us. Sir, I’m your most obedient
servant,” said the fat one.
“Gentlemen, both your good healths and professional success also:” here
I swallowed a petit verre of brandy; thinking all the while there were
worse things than the practice of physic.
“I hope you are not going,” said one, as my chaise drew up at the door.
“Business calls me,” said I, “and I can’t help it.”
“Could not you manage to see our friend here again, in a day or two?”
said the rosy one.
“I fear it will be impossible,” replied I; “besides I have a notion he
may not desire it.”
“I have been commissioned to hand you this,” said the tall doctor, with
a half sigh, as he put a check into my hand.
I bowed slightly, and stuffed the crumpled paper with a half careless
air into my waistcoat pocket, and wishing them both every species of
happiness and success, shook hands four times with each, and drove off;
never believing myself safe ‘till I saw the gate-lodge behind me, and
felt myself flying on the road to Kilkenny at about twelve miles Irish
an hour.