d anything
new to communicate he had better do so in writing; and then, ordering my
horse, I rode slowly home, feeling more ~402~~ thoroughly miserable than
I had ever done before in the whole course of my life.

The next morning was so fine that all kinds of pleasurable schemes were
proposed and acceded to. Oaklands and Fanny rode out together in all
the unrestrained freedom of an engaged tete-a-tete. The new dog-cart
had arrived, and the chestnuts were to make their _debut_; consequently,
Lawless spent the morning in the stable-yard, united by the closest
bonds of sympathy with the head-groom and an attendant harness-maker,
the latter being a young man whose distinguishing characteristics were a
strong personal savour of new leather, hands gloved in cobbler's wax and
harness-dye, and a general tendency to come off black upon everything he
approached. Sir John and the rest of the party were to fill a britchska,
and the place of rendezvous was the ruins of an old abbey about eight
miles distant.

Feeling quite unfit for society, I had excused myself on the plea (not
altogether a false one) of a bad headache, and having witnessed their
departure from the library window, I drew an easy-chair to the fire, and
prepared to enjoy the luxury (in my then state of feeling an unspeakable
one) of solitude. But I was not fated to avail myself of even this small
consolation, for scarcely ten minutes had elapsed when the library door
was opened, and Mr. Frampton made his appearance.

"Umph! eh! umph!" he began; "I've been seeing that young fool Lawless
start in his new tandem, as he calls it. A pretty start it was too;
why, the thing's as high as a stage-coach--ought to have a ladder to get
up--almost as bad as mounting an elephant! And then the horses, fiery
devils! two men at each of their noses, and enough to do to hold 'em
even so! Well, out comes Master Lawless, in a greatcoat made like a
coal-sack, with buttons as big as five-shilling pieces, a whip as long
as a fishing-rod in his hand, and a cigar in his mouth. 'There's a
picture!' says he. 'A picture of folly,' says I; 'you're never going to
be mad enough to trust yourself up there Behind those vicious brutes?'
'Come, governor, jump in, and let's be off,' was all the answer I got.
'Thank ye,' says I; 'when you see me jumping in that direction, pop me
into a strait-waistcoat, and toddle me off to Bedlam.' 'Eh! won't you
go? Tumble in then, Shrimp!' 'Please, sir, it's so high