of light!'

Bartley did his best; and such was the excellence of the roads, that,
notwithstanding the rate at which our hero travelled, he arrived safely
in Dublin, and just in time to put his letter into the post-office, and
to sail in that night's packet. The wind was fair when Lord Colambre
went on board, but before they got out of the bay it changed; they
made no way all night; in the course of the next day, they had the
mortification to see another packet from Dublin sail past them, and when
they landed at Holyhead, were told the packet, which had left Ireland
twelve hours after them, had been in an hour before them. The passengers
had taken their places in the coach, and engaged what horses could be
had. Lord Colambre was afraid that Mr. Garraghty was one of them; a
person exactly answering his description had taken four horses, and
set out half an hour before in great haste for London. Luckily, just
as those who had taken their places in the mail were getting into the
coach, Lord Colambre saw among them a gentleman, with whom he had been
acquainted in Dublin, a barrister, who was come over during the long
vacation, to make a tour of pleasure in England. When Lord Colambre
explained the reason he had for being in haste to reach London, he had
the good-nature to give up to him his place in the coach. Lord Colambre
travelled all night, and delayed not one moment, till he reached his
father's house in London.

'My father at home?'

'Yes, my lord, in his own room--the agent from Ireland with him, on
particular business--desired not to be interrupted--but I'll go and tell
him, my lord, you are come.'

Lord Colambre ran past the servant, as he spoke--made his way into the
room--found his father, Sir Terence O'Fay, and Mr. Garraghty--leases
open on the table before them; a candle lighted; Sir Terence sealing;
Garraghty emptying a bag of guineas on the table, and Lord Clonbrony
actually with a pen in his hand, ready to sign.

As the door opened, Garraghty started back, so that half the contents of
his bag rolled upon the floor.

'Stop, my dear father, I conjure you,' cried Lord Colambre, springing
forward, and kneeling to his father; at the same moment snatching the
pen from his hand.

Colambre! God bless you, my dear boy! at all events. But how came you
here?--And what do you mean?' said his father.

'Burn it!' cried Sir Terence, pinching the sealing-wax; 'for I burnt
myself with the pleasure of the surprise.'