Mrs. Burnet to accept this token of his
sympathy with suffering virtue.'

Determined to find some means to put this in her possession before
their parting, he resumed his place. The Scotchman now prepared for his
night's repose. He produced a pillow for his back, a bag for his feet,
and a cap for his head. These, and a glass of brandy-and-water, in time
produced a due effect, and he was soon fast asleep. Even to the widow,
night brought some solace. The Duke alone found no repose. Unused to
travelling in public conveyances at night, and unprovided with any of
the ingenious expedients of a mail coach adventurer, he felt all the
inconveniences of an inexperienced traveller. The seat was unendurably
hard, his back ached, his head whirled, the confounded sherry, slight as
was his portion, had made him feverish, and he felt at once excited
and exhausted. He was sad, too; very depressed. Alone, and no longer
surrounded with that splendour which had hitherto made solitude
precious, life seemed stripped of all its ennobling spirit. His energy
vanished. He repented his rashness; and the impulse of the previous
night, which had gathered fresh power from the dewy moon, vanished. He
felt alone, and without a friend, and night passed without a moment's
slumber, watching the driving clouds.

The last fifteen miles seemed longer than the whole journey. At St.
Alban's he got out, took a cup of coffee with Tom Rawlins, and, although
the morning was raw, again seated himself by his side. In the first
gloomy little suburb Mrs. Burnet got out. The Duke sent Rawlins after
her with the parcel, with peremptory instructions to leave it. He
watched the widow protesting it was not hers, his faithful emissary
appealing to the direction, and with delight he observed it left in
her hands. They rattled into London, stopped in Lombard Street, reached
Holborn, entered an archway; the coachman threw the whip and reins from
his now careless hands. The Duke bade farewell to Tom Rawlins, and was
shown to a bed.

CHAPTER VIII.

_The Duke Makes a Speech_

THE return of morning had in some degree dissipated the gloom that had
settled on the young Duke during the night. Sound and light made him
feel less forlorn, and for a moment his soul again responded to his high
purpose. But now he was to seek necessary repose. In vain. His heated
frame and anxious mind were alike restless. He turned, he tossed in his
bed, but he could not banish from his