Meantime, on that memorable evening of so many adventures, Harry, Laura, and Lady Rockville, wondered often what had become of his Lordship, and, at last, when supper appeared at the usual hour, his absence became still more unaccountable!

“What can be the matter?” exclaimed Lady Rockville, anxiously. “This is very odd! His Lordship is as punctual as the postman in general! especially for supper; and here is Lord Rockville’s favourite dish of sago and wine, [116] ]which will become uneatably cold in ten minutes, if he does not return home to enjoy it!”

Scarcely had she finished speaking, when the door opened and Lord Rockville walked majestically into the room. There was something so different from usual in his manner and appearance, however, that Harry and Laura exchanged looks of astonishment; his neckcloth was loose—his face excessively red—and his hand shook, while he breathed so hard, that he might have been heard at the porter’s lodge. Lady Rockville gazed with amazement at all she saw, and then asked what he chose for supper; but when Lord Rockville tried to speak, the words died on his lips, so he could only point in silence to the sago and wine.

“What in all the world has happened to you this evening, my Lord?” exclaimed Lady Rockville, unable to restrain her curiosity a moment longer. “I never saw you in such a way before! Your eyes are perfectly blood-shot—your dress strangely disordered—and you seem so hot and so fatigued! Tell me!—what is the matter?”

“Nothing!” answered Lord Rockville, drawing himself up, while he tried to look grander and graver than ever, though his Lordship could not help panting for breath—putting his hands to his sides—and wiping his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief in an agony of fatigue. Harry observed all this for some time, as eagerly and intently as a cat watches a bird on a tree. He saw that something extraordinary had occurred, and he began to have hopes that it really was the very thing he wished; because, seeing Lord Rockville now perfectly safe, he would not have grudged him a pretty considerable fright from his friend the bull. At last, unable any longer to control his impatience, Harry started off his chair, gazing so earnestly at Lord Rockville, that his eyes almost sprung out of their sockets, while he rubbed his hands with ecstacy, saying,

“I guess you’ve seen the bull? Oh! I am sure you did! [117] ]Pray tell us if you have? Did he run after you,—and did you run away?”

Lord Rockville tried more than he had ever done in his life to look grave, but it would not do. Gradually his face relaxed into a smile, till at last he burst into loud peals of laughter, joined most heartily by Harry, Laura, and Lady Rockville. Nobody recovered any gravity during the rest of that evening, for whenever they tried to think or talk quietly about anything else, Harry and Laura were sure to burst forth again upon the subject, and even after being safely stowed in their beds for the night, they both laughed themselves to sleep at the idea of Lord Rockville himself having been obliged, after all, to run away from that “most respectable, quiet, well-disposed animal,

“THE MAD BULL!”

[118]
]CHAPTER VIII.
THE BROKEN KEY.

First he moved his right leg,