but I hope," said I, rousing myself from a reverie of some
minutes, and inadvertently pressing the arm which leaned upon me--"your
mamma will not be alarmed at our long absence?"

"Oh! not in the least; for she knows I'm with you."

And here I felt a return of the pressure--perhaps also inadvertently
given, but which, whether or not, effectually set all my reasonings and
calculations astray; and we returned to the hotel, silent on both sides.

The appearance of la chere mamma beside the hissing tea-urn brought us
both back to ourselves; and, after an hour's chatting, we wished good
night, to start on the morrow for the continent.

CHAPTER XXIII.

CALAIS.

It was upon a lovely evening in autumn, as the Dover steam-boat rounded
the wooden pier at Calais, amid a fleet of small boats filled with eager
and anxious faces, soliciting, in every species of bad English and
"patois" [vulgar] French, the attention and patronage of the passengers.

"Hotel de Bain, mi lor'."

"Hotel d'Angleterre," said another, in a voice of the most imposing
superiority. "C'est superbe--pretty well."

"Hotel du Nord, votre Excellence--remise de poste and 'delays' (quere
relays) at all hours."

"Commissionaire, mi ladi," sung out a small shrill treble from the midst
of a crowded cock-boat, nearly swamped beneath our paddle-wheel.

What a scene of bustle, confusion, and excitement does the deck of a
steamer present upon such an occasion. Every one is running hither or
thither. "Sauve qui peut" is now the watch-word; and friendships, that
promised a life-long endurance only half an hour ago, find here a speedy
dissolution. The lady who slept all night upon deck, enveloped in the
folds of your Astracan cloak, scarcely deigns an acknowledgment of you,
as she adjusts her ringlets before the looking-glass over the stove in
the cabin. The polite gentleman, that would have flown for a reticule or
a smelling-bottle upon the high seas, won't leave his luggage in the
harbour; and the gallantry and devotion that stood the test of half a
gale of wind and a wet jacket, is not proof when the safety of a
carpet-bag or the security of a "Mackintosh" is concerned.

And thus here, as elsewhere, is prosperity the touchstone of good
feeling. All the various disguises which have been assumed, per viaggio,
are here immediately abandoned, and, stripped of the travelling costume
of urbanity and courtesy, which they put on for the voyage, they stand