tting into a
carriage with four horses which had been waiting for him,
drove off."

Sheridan, unconscious and apparently dying, was driven from the Downs to
a neighbouring inn, "The White Hart," where for a time he hung betwixt
life and death. On hearing of his condition Miss Linley (who at the time
was singing at Cambridge) travelled post-haste to his bedside; and,
tenderly nursed by his wife and his sister, the wounded man slowly
fought his way back to strength.

One would have thought that, after such a tragic experience and
observing the mutual devotion of the young couple, their parents would
have relented and given their approval of the union, however improvident
and inexcusable it might appear to them. But, on both sides, they were
obdurate; and Mr Sheridan carried his opposition to the extent of
extracting from his son a promise that he would not even see his wife.

But love laughs at parents' frowns and usually triumphs in the end. When
Elizabeth Linley went away to London to sing in oratorio, her husband
followed her; and, in the _role_ of hackney coachman, had the pleasure
of driving not only his wife but her father, home nightly from the
concert-room, without either of them suspecting his identity. When at
last he revealed himself to his wife, her delight was so great as to
leave no doubt of the sincere love she bore him. Many a secret meeting
followed; a final joint appeal ultimately broke down the obduracy of the
parents; and once again Sheridan led his bride to the altar, to make her
finally and securely his own.

For a time Richard Sheridan and his Nightingale found a haven in a
remote, rose-covered cottage at East Burnham. These were days of
unclouded happiness, when, the "world forgetting and by the world
forgot," they lived only for love, caring nothing of the future. They
were days of simple delights; for their entire income was the interest
of Mr Long's L3000, which proved ample for their needs. Mrs Sheridan,
now at the zenith of her fame, might have won thousands by her
voice--she actually refused offers of nearly L4000 for one short
season--but her husband wished to keep the Nightingale's voice for his
own exclusive delight; and she was only too happy in thus turning her
back on fame and fortune.

But such halcyon days could not last long. Even Paradise might pall on
such a restless temperament as that of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. He
began to sigh for the outer world in which he f