“And so, my dear Frank,” said Oaklands, “there is an end of that affair, and, if it only produces as much effect upon Cumberland as it has produced upon me, it will read him a lesson he will not forget for many a long day. I blame myself excessively,” he continued, “for my own share in this matter; if it had not been for my easy, careless way of going on, this scheme would never have been thought of—nay, I might, perhaps, have been able to rescue Cumberland from the hands of this sharper; but in this manner we neglect the opportunities afforded us of doing good, and—Frank,” he continued, with a sudden burst of energy, “I will cure myself of this abominable indolence.” He paused for some minutes in thought, and then added, “Well, I must not stand here raving at you any longer; it is getting very late: goodnight, old fellow! I shall be glad enough to tumble into bed, for I'm as tired as a dog: it really is astonishing how easily I am knocked up.”
The absurdity of this remark, following upon the resolution he had expressed with so much energy but a minute before, struck us both at the same instant, and occasioned a fit of laughter, which we did not check till we recollected with what dissonance any approach to mirth must strike the ear of the prisoner (for such he was in fact, if not in name) in the adjoining apartment.
“Now, sir; come, Mr. Fairlegh, you'll be late for breakfast,” were the first sounds that reached my understanding on the following morning: I say understanding, as I had heard, mixed up with my dreams, sundry noises produced by unclosing shutters, arranging water-jugs, etc., which appeared to my sleep-bewildered senses to have been going on for at least half an hour. My faculties not being sufficiently aroused to enable me to speak, Thomas continued, “You'll be late, Mr. Fairlegh”; then came an aside, “My wig, how he do sleep! I hope he ain't been a-taking lauddelum, or morpheus, or anything of a somnambulous natur. I wouldn't be master, always to have six boys a weighing on my mind, for all the wealth of the Ingies.—Mr. Fairlegh, I say!”
“There, don't make such a row,” replied I, jumping out of bed and making a dash at my clothes; “is it late?”
“Jest nine o'clock, sir; master and Mr. Cumberland's been gone these two hours. Shocking affair that, sir; it always gives me quite a turn when any of our gents is expelled: it's like being thrown out of place at a minute's warning, as I said to cook only this morning. 'Cook,' says I, 'life's a curious thing,' there's——”
“The breakfast bell ringing, by all that's unlucky,” exclaimed I; and downstairs I ran, with one arm in, and one out of my jacket, leaving Thomas to conclude his speculations on the mutability of human affairs as he best might, solus.
“How are we going to kill time to-day?” inquired Oaklands, as soon as we had done breakfast.
“We mustn't do anything to outrage the proprieties,” said Coleman; “remember we are on parole d'honneur.”
“On a fiddlestick,” interrupted Lawless; “let's all ride over to the Duke of York, at Bradford, shoot some pigeons, have a champagne breakfast, and be home again in time for the old woman's feed at five o'clock. I daresay I can pick up one or two fellows to go with us.”
“No,” said Oaklands, “that sort of thing won't do to-day. I quite agree with Freddy, we ought not to do anything to annoy the Doctor upon this occasion; come, Lawless, I'm sure you'll say so too, if you give it a moment's thought.”