“Quite impossible; and where would be the merit in the end?” said Dick, pacing the room as he believed a man of adventure and enterprise would in the circumstances. “You may trust to me to place her in safety without the help of any one.”
“I know it, Dick, I know it, dear, and I am proud of you,” said she, putting her arms about his neck and kissing him. “And look you here, Dick,” she added, in a more practical tone. “Look you here—I find that I can spare another five pounds out of the last bill that came from Ireland. We shall live modestly in this house until you return to us.”
He took the coins which she offered to him wrapped up in a twist of newspaper; but he showed some hesitation—she had to go through a form of forcing it upon him.
“I hope to bring it back to you unbroken,” he murmured; “but in affairs of this sort it is safest to have a pound or two over, rather than under, what is barely needful. That is why I take your coins,—a loan—a sacred loan. Good-bye, I returned only to say good-bye to you, my dearest sister.”
“I knew your good heart, Dick, that was why I was waiting for you. Good-bye, Dick, and God bless you.”
He was putting on his cloak in the hall. He saw that the pistols were in its pockets, and then he suffered his sister to give him another kiss before he passed into the dark street.
He felt for his pistols, and with a hand on each he felt that he was indeed fairly launched upon a great adventure.
He made his way to the London road, and all the time he was wondering if the girl would really come to him in the Sedan chair which he had sent for her. To be sure she had promised to come upon this evening, but he knew enough of the great affairs of this world to be well aware of the fact that the sincerest promise of a maid may be rendered worthless by the merest freak of Fate. Therefore, he knew that he did well to be doubtful respecting the realisation of her promise. She was the beautiful Miss Linley—every one in Bath knew her, and this being so, was it not likely that some one—some prying person—some impudent fellow like that Mathews who had been making love to her, although he had a wife of his own in Wales—might catch a glimpse of her face through the glass of the chair when passing a lamp or a link, and be sufficiently curious to follow her chair to see whither she was going?
That was a likely enough thing to happen, and if it did happen and the alarm of his flight with her were given, what chance would he have of carrying out his purpose? Why, the chaise would be followed, and even if it was not overtaken before London was reached, the resting-place of the fugitives would certainly be discovered in London, and they should be ignominiously brought back to Bath. Yes, unless Mathews were the pursuer, in which case——
Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan grasped more firmly the butt of the pistol in the right-hand pocket of his cloak. He felt at that moment that should Mathews overtake them, the going back to Bath would be on the part only of Mathews.