ld Tom O'Flaherty seated
between two ladies, whose most vociferous mirth I soon perceived was
elicited at my expense.

All the party of the preceding night were also there, and as I turned
from their grinning faces to the land, I saw, to my shame and confusion,
that we were still lying beside the pier at Howth; while the band-boxes,
trunks, and imperials of new arrivals were incessantly pouring in, as
travelling carriages kept driving up to the place of embarkation. I
stood perfectly astounded and bewildered--shame for my ridiculous costume
would have made me fly at any other time--but there I remained to be
laughed at patiently, while that villain O'Flaherty leading me passively
forward, introduced me to his friends--"Mrs. Bingham, Mr. Lorrequer; Mr.
Lorrequer, Miss Bingham. Don't be prepossessed against him, ladies, for
when not in love, and properly dressed, he is a marvellously well-looking
young gentleman; and as--"

What the remainder of the sentence might be, I knew not, for I rushed
down into the cabin, and locking the door, never opened it till I could
perceive from the stern windows that we were really off on our way to
England, and recognized once more the laughing face of O'Flaherty, who,
as he waved his hat to his friends from the pier, reminded them that
"they were under the care and protection of his friend Lorrequer, who, he
trusted, would condescend to increase his wearing apparel under the
circumstances."

CHAPTER XXII.

THE JOURNEY.

When I did at last venture upon deck, it was with a costume studiously
accurate, and as much of manner as I could possibly muster, to endeavour
at once to erase the unfortunate impression of my first appearance; this,
however, was not destined to be a perfectly successful manoeuvre, and I
was obliged after a few minutes to join the laugh, which I found could
not be repressed, at my expense. One good result certainly followed from
all this. I became almost immediately on intimate terms with Mrs.
Bingham and her daughter, and much of the awkwardness in my position as
their chaperon, which bon gre, mal gre I was destined to be, was at once
got over. Mrs. Bingham herself was of that "genre" of widow which comes
under the "fat, fair, and forty" category, with a never-ceasing flow of
high, almost boisterous, spirits--an excellent temper, good health
--and a well-stocked purse. Life to her was like a game of her favourite
"speculation." When, as she believed,