Cat from the
carriage was no other than the Count; and, as she had heard, from time
to time, exaggerated reports of the splendour of the establishment which
he kept up, she was induced to look upon her niece with the very highest
respect, and to treat her as if she were a fine lady. "And so she IS
a fine lady," Mrs. Score had said months ago, when some of these
flattering stories reached her, and she had overcome her first fury at
Catherine's elopement. "The girl was very cruel to leave me; but we must
recollect that she is as good as married to a nobleman, and must all
forget and forgive, you know."

This speech had been made to Doctor Dobbs, who was in the habit of
taking a pipe and a tankard at the "Bugle," and it had been roundly
reprobated by the worthy divine; who told Mrs. Score, that the crime
of Catherine was only the more heinous, if it had been committed from
interested motives; and protested that, were she a princess, he would
never speak to her again. Mrs. Score thought and pronounced the Doctor's
opinion to be very bigoted; indeed, she was one of those persons who
have a marvellous respect for prosperity, and a corresponding scorn for
ill-fortune. When, therefore, she returned to the public room, she
went graciously to the gentleman who had led Mrs. Catherine from the
carriage, and with a knowing curtsey welcomed him to the "Bugle;" told
him that his lady would not come to dinner, but bade her say, with her
best love to his Lordship, that the ride had fatigued her, and that she
would lie in bed for an hour or two.

This speech was received with much wonder by his Lordship; who was,
indeed, no other than a Liverpool tailor going to London to learn
fashions; but he only smiled, and did not undeceive the landlady, who
herself went off, smilingly, to bustle about dinner.

The two or three hours allotted to that meal by the liberal coachmasters
of those days passed away, and Mr. Coachman, declaring that his horses
were now rested enough, and that they had twelve miles to ride, put the
steeds to, and summoned the passengers. Mrs. Score, who had seen with
much satisfaction that her niece was really ill, and her fever more
violent, and hoped to have her for many days an inmate in her house, now
came forward, and casting upon the Liverpool tailor a look of profound
but respectful melancholy, said, "My Lord (for I recollect your Lordship
quite well), the lady upstairs is so ill, that it would be a sin to move
her