e,' said Thomas, with philosophical
indifference; 'but it looks like a long start, where-ever it may be to;
so I'll get my traps in order.' And this duty was so expeditiously
performed, that, in less than fifteen minutes, the very handsome
travelling carriage of the Earl of Wistonbury, drawn by four spanking
bays, flashed up to the door of Oxton Hall. In an instant after, it was
occupied by the dowager countess, and in another, was rattling away for
Scotland, at the utmost speed of the noble animals by which it was
drawn.

Changing here, once more, the scene of our story, we return to the house
of Professor Lockerby. There matters continued in that ominous state of
quiescence, that significant and portentous calm, that precedes the
bursting of the storm. Between the professor and the young earl, not a
word more had passed on the subject of the latter's extraordinary
declaration. Neither had made the slightest subsequent allusion to it,
but continued their studies precisely as they had done before; although,
perhaps, a degree of restraint--a consciousness of some point of
difference between them--might now be discerned in their correspondence.
Both, in short, seemed to have tacitly agreed to abide the result of the
professor's letter to the countess, before taking any other step, or
expressing any other feeling, on the subject to which that letter
related. The anticipated crisis which the professor and his noble pupil
were thus composedly awaiting, soon arrived. On the third day after that
remarkable one on which the young Earl of Wistonbury had avowed the
humble daughter of an humble Scotch farmer to be his wife, a carriage
and four, which, we need scarcely say, was the same we saw start from
Oxton Hall, drove furiously up to the door of Professor Lockerby. The
horses' flanks sent forth clouds of smoke; their mouths and
fore-shoulders were covered with foam; and the carriage itself was
almost encased in mud. Everything, in short, told of a long and rapid
journey. And it was so. Night and day, without one hour's intermission,
had that carriage prosecuted its journey. In an instant after, the
carriage stopped; its steps were down, and, bridling with high and lofty
indignation, the Dowager Countess of Wistonbury descended, and, ere any
one of the professor's family were aware of her arrival, she had entered
the house, the door being accidentally open, and was calling loudly for
'her boy.'

'Where is my son?' she exclaime