may I
ask what you have to say for thus eloping with a married man?"

"Shame! My dear Jemima," said Fitz. "how can you possibly permit your
foolish jealousy so far to blind your reason. Don't you see I am going
upon a professional call?"

"Oh! you are. Are you? Quite professional, I'll be bound."

"Oh, sir! Oh, madam! I beseech you, save me from the anger of my
relatives, and the disgrace of exposure. Pray bring me back at once."

"Why, my God! ma'am, what do you mean? You are not gone mad, as well as
my wife."

"Really, Mr. Fitz." said Mrs. F. "this is carrying the joke too far.
Take your unfortunate victim--as I suppose she is such--home to her
parents, and prepare to accompany me to the barrack; and if there be law
and justice in--"

"Well! may the Lord in his mercy preserve my senses, or you will both
drive me clean mad."

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" sobbed the young lady, while Mrs. Fitzgerald
continued to upbraid at the top of her voice, heedless of the disclaimers
and protestations of innocence poured out with the eloquence of despair,
by the poor doctor. Matters were in this state, when a man dressed in a
fustian jacket, like a groom, drove up to the side of the road, in a
tax-cart; he immediately got down, and tearing open the door of the
doctor's chaise, lifted out the young lady, and deposited her safely in
his own conveyance, merely adding--

"I say, master, you're in luck this morning, that Mr. William took the
lower road; for if he had come up with you instead of me, he'd blow the
roof off your scull, that's all."

While these highly satisfactory words were being addressed to poor Fitz.
Mrs. Fitzgerald had removed from her carriage to that of her husband,
perhaps preferring four horses to two; or perhaps she had still some
unexplained views of the transaction, which might as well be told on the
road homeward.

Whatever might have been the nature of Mrs. F.'s dissertation, nothing is
known. The chaise containing these turtle doves arrived late at night at
Kilkenny, and Fitz. was installed safely in his quarters before any one
knew of his having come back. The following morning he was reported ill;
and for three weeks he was but once seen, and at that time only at his
window, with a flannel night-cap on his head, looking particularly pale,
and rather dark under one eye.

As for Curzon--the last thing known of him that luckless morning, was his
hiring a post-chaise for the Royal Oak, from