The vicar having some business to transact in Limerick, agreed to go that far with Sir Brook and Trafford, and accompanied them to the railroad to see them off.
A down train from Dublin arrived as they were waiting, and a passenger, descending, hastily hurried after the vicar, and seized his hand. The vicar, in evident delight, forgot his other friends for a moment, and became deeply interested in the new-comer. “We must say good-bye, doctor,” said Fossbrooke; “here comes our train.”
“A thousand pardons, my dear Sir Brook. The unlooked-for arrival of my friend here—but I believe you don't know him. Lendrick, come here, I want to present you to Sir Brook Fossbrooke. Captain Trafford, Dr. Lendrick.”
“I hope these gentlemen are not departing,” said Lendrick, with the constraint of a bashful man.
“It is our misfortune to do so,” said Sir Brook; “but I have passed too many happy hours in this neighborhood not to come back to it as soon as I can.”
“I hope we shall see you. I hope I may have an opportunity of thanking you, Sir Brook.”
“Dublin! Dublin! Dublin! get in, gentlemen: first class, this way, sir,” screamed a guard, amidst a thundering rumble, a scream, and a hiss. All other words were drowned, and with a cordial shake-hands the new friends parted.
“Is the younger man his son?” asked Lendrick; “I did not catch the name?”
“No; he's Trafford, a son of Sir Hugh Trafford,—a Lincolnshire man, isn't he?”
“I don't know. It was of the other I was thinking. I felt it so strange to see a man of whom when a boy I used to hear so much. I have an old print somewhere of two over-dressed 'Bloods,' as they were called in those days, with immense whiskers, styled 'Fossy and Fussy,' meaning Sir Brook and the Baron Geramb, a German friend and follower of the Prince.”