gh you failed.
Well," he added, turning to me, "shall we take to the fields? They'll
have to hunt us afoot then, and we may beat 'em at that."

But I found I was too lame, from the knocking about I had got in the
upset vehicle, for any game of hare and hounds. "Go you," said I. "I
was only the second--there's less danger for me."

"I'll not go, then," said he. "What a pity I drew you into this, Bert!
I ought to have considered Fanny and your mother. They'll never
forgive me--they never ought to.--Well, now we shall know the worst!"

The second vehicle came to a triumphant stop near us, the postilions
grinning with satisfaction. Phil and I stood passive in the road: I
remember wondering whether the officers of the law would put handcuffs
upon us. A head was thrust out of the window--a voice called to us.

"Madge!" we cried together, and hastened to her.

"I was afraid you might sail before I got to Hastings," cried she,
with relief and joy depicted on her face.

"Who is with you?" asked Phil.

"No one," she answered. "I left Bert's letter with my maid, to give to
Fanny. I left the girl too, to stay with her if she will take her. I
didn't wish to encumber--Your chaise is broken down: get into this
one. Oh, Phil!--I couldn't bear to have you go away--and leave
me--after I had seen you again. 'Twas something to know you were in
London, at least--near me. But if you go to France--you must let me
go, too--you must, dear--as your friend, your comrade and helper, if
nothing more--your old friend, that knew you so long ago--"

She lost voice here, and began to cry, still looking at him through
the mist of tears. His own eyes glistened softly as he returned her
gaze; and, after a moment, he went close to the window through which
her head was thrust, raised his hand so as to stroke her hair, and
kissed her on the lips.

"Why, you shall come as my wife, of course," said he, gently. "If I
had been sure you wished it, you might have travelled with us from
London, and been spared this chase.--But think what you are giving up,
dear--'tis not too late--the theatre, the praise and admiration,
London--"

"Oh, hang 'em all!" cried she, looking joyous through her tears. "'Tis
you I want!"

And she caught his face between her hands, and kissed it a dozen
times, to the open-mouthed wonder of the staring postilions.

* * * * *

She took us in her post-chaise to Hastings, where the three of us
emb