s another matter on which I should be
grateful for your opinion." "What's that?" enquired the banker, beaming
benevolently on his guest, as a man who has dined well and is at peace
with the world. "Well, sir, suppose you were deeply in love with a girl
who returned your love, and that her father refused his consent. What
would you do?" "What should I do?" laughed the banker, "why, run away
with her, of course, like many a better man has done!"

What more direct encouragement could an ardent lover want? It is
possible that the next morning the banker had completely forgotten the
conversation, and his vinous approval of runaway matches; but, two days
later, he was destined to have a rude awaking. In the middle of the
night he was aroused by the watchman to learn that his front door had
been found open; and a little later the alarming discovery was made that
his daughter had flown. His suspicions fell at once on that "rascally
young lord"; and they were confirmed when he found that the Earl, too,
had disappeared, and that a chaise, with four galloping horses, had been
seen dashing northwards as fast as whip and spur could drive them.

The banker was furious. He raged and stormed as he ordered his servants
to procure the fastest horses money could command; and with lavish
promises of reward to the postboys he set out in hot pursuit of the
fugitives. Luckily they had no long start; and, with better horses, more
frequent changes, and a heavier purse, he had little doubt that he would
soon overtake them. But the chase was sterner and longer than he had
imagined. Cupid lends wings to runaway lovers. Fast as Mr Child's
sweating horses raced, they gained but little on the pursued. Through
the long night, the next day, and the following night the desperate race
continued--through sleeping villages and startled towns, over hill and
moor, until the borderland grew near. Then, between Penrith and
Carlisle, the quarry was at last sighted.

Mr Child's horses, urged to a final effort by the postboys, slowly but
surely reduced the interval; and now inch by inch they draw abreast of
the runaway chaise. The moment of triumph has come. Mr Child, with body
half protruding from the chaise, calls loudly on the fugitives to halt,
shaking his fist at the smiling face of the Earl, who with one hand
waves a graceful adieu, with the other presents a pistol at Mr Child's
near leader. A flash, a report, and the horse falls dead. A few minutes
later