stepper Mab to the light trap; no delay. Have his feed at Loughton. Tell
Mrs. Maples to send up now, here, a tray, whatever she has, within five
minutes--not later. A bottle of the Peace of Amiens Chambertin--Mr.
Eglett's. You understand. Mrs. Maples will pack a basket for the journey;
she will judge. Add a bottle of the Waterloo Bordeaux. Wait: a dozen of
Mr. Eglett's cigars. Brisk with all the orders. Go.'

She turned to Weyburn. 'You pack your portmanteau faster than a servant
will do it.'

He ran up-stairs.

She was beside the tray to welcome and inspirit his eating, and she
performed the busy butler's duty in pouring out wine for him. It was a
toned old Burgundy, happy in the year of its birth, the grandest of
instruments to roll the gambol-march of the Dionysiaca through the blood
of this frame and sound it to the spirit. She spoke no word of his cause
for departure. He drank, and he felt what earth can do to cheer one of
her stricken children and strengthen the beat of a heart with a dread
like a shot in it.

She, while he flew supporting the body of his most beloved to the sun of
Life in brighter hope, reckoned the stages of his journey.

'Leeman at Loughton will post you through the night to Mersley. Wherever
you bait, it is made known that you come from Olmer, and are one of us.
That passes you on up to London. Where can Lord Ormont be now?'

'In Paris.'

'Still in Paris? He leaves her. She did well to send as she did. You will
not pay for the posting along the road.'

'I will pay for myself--I have a 'purse,' Weyburn said; and continued,
'Oh, my lady; there is Mr. Hampton-Evey to-morrow morning: I promised to
stand by him.'

'I'll explain,' said Lady Charlotte. 'He shall not miss you. If he strips
the parson and comes as a man and a servant of the poor, he has nothing
to fear. You've done? The night before my brother Rowsley's first duel I
sat with him at supper and poured his wine out, and knew what was going
to happen, didn't say a word. No use in talking about feelings. Besides,
death is only the other side of the ditch, and one or other of us must go
foremost. Now then, good-bye. Empson's waiting by this time. Mr. Eglett
and Leo shall hear the excuses from me. Think of anything you may want,
while I count ten.'

She held his hand. He wanted her to be friendly to Lady Ormont, but could
not vex her at the last moment, touched as he was by her practical
kindness.

She pressed his hand and let