could
not have the heart to submit any one of them--this one especially--to
torture. We had tried to part: we could not. He had endeavoured to
separate us: it was more than was in his power. The bars were up, but
the young couple--the maid within and the knight without--were loving
each other all the same. The wall was built, but Pyramus and Thisbe were
whispering on either side. In the midst of all his grief and perplexity,
Uncle Lambert had plenty of humour, and could not but see that his role
was rather a sorry one. Light was beginning to show through that lime
and rough plaster of the wall: the lovers were getting their hands
through, then their heads through--indeed, it was wall's best business
to retire.

I forget what happened stage by stage and day by day; nor, for the
instruction of future ages, does it much matter. When my descendants
have love scrapes of their own, they will find their own means of
getting out of them. I believe I did not go back to Dean Street, but
that practice of driving in the open air was considered most healthful
for Miss Lambert. I got a fine horse, and rode by the side of her
carriage. The old woman at Tottenham Court came to know both of us quite
well, and nod and wink in the most friendly manner when we passed by.
I fancy the old goody was not unaccustomed to interest herself in young
couples, and has dispensed the hospitality of her roadside cottage to
more than one pair.

The doctor and the country air effected a prodigious cure upon Miss
Lambert. Hetty always attended as duenna, and sometimes of his holiday,
Master Charley rode my horse when I got into the carriage. What a deal
of love-making Miss Hetty heard!--with what exemplary patience she
listened to it! I do not say she went to hear the Methodist sermons any
more, but 'tis certain that when we had a closed carriage she would very
kindly and considerately look out of the window. Then, what heaps of
letters there were!--what running to and fro! Gumbo's bandy legs were
for ever on the trot from my quarters to Dean Street; and, on my account
or her own, Mrs. Molly, the girl's maid, was for ever bringing back
answers to Bloomsbury. By the time when the autumn leaves began to turn
pale, Miss Theo's roses were in full bloom again, and my good Doctor
Heberden's cure was pronounced to be complete. What else happened during
this blessed period? Mr. Warrington completed his great tragedy of
Pocahontas, which was not only accepted b