“Please, sir, you ain’t paid for the cigar, and sherry and biscuit,” exclaimed the man, in injured tones.
“Confound it, no!” cried the young man. “And—I say, I haven’t got my portmanteau! There, my man, look sharp, whatever you do!”
Five minutes more elapsed, but at length the bill was paid, the portmanteau secured to the front, and the crazy vehicle was once more well under weigh, the young sailor fuming the while with impatience. But as soon as the town was passed, liberal promises sent the shabby cattle scuffling along at a pretty good pace; and when the traveller had about given up all hopes of again seeing the face that had attracted his attention, the first post-chaise became visible, slowly crawling up one of the hills about half-way between Lincoln and Marshton, when again urging on the post-boy, the vehicle was at length overtaken, and whilst passing it the young man’s heart leaped as he again caught sight of the fair traveller, leaning forward to see who was passing, but withdrawing instantly upon seeing that she was the object of attention.
Twice did Brace Norton find the opportunities for a short glance at the now averted face: once during the stages, and again when they changed horses at Marshton; but now, to his disgust, it seemed that he had been favoured with worse cattle than before; and in spite of his urging the fresh post-boy—a native of “Sorrey,” as he took an opportunity of assuring his employer—it seemed that he was to be left entirely at the rear, to see the face no more.
But the golden spur prevailed; and as the young lieutenant saw that they were gaining rapidly, he threw himself back, muttering, “What a thing it is that there are no women at sea! It only wants their presence to make it perfect. I wonder who those can be, though? On a visit somewhere. Jove! What luck if it’s anywhere near us!”
His reverie was interrupted by the broadly-speaking post-boy yoho-ing to the one in front, and the next minute they passed the first chaise in an easy canter; but Brace Norton obtained no view, for, to his great chagrin, the window on this side—the side occupied by the gentleman—had the blind drawn down.
“Didn’t I do it in style, yer honner?” cried the post-boy, turning in his saddle to grin.
“Yes—yes; but easy now. Let them pass you.” And then to himself the traveller muttered, “I shall be right next time.”
“Is that to be included in the half-guinea, yer honner?” cried the post-boy, with a leer; but he obtained no answer, save a fierce gesture not to look back; for now the passing was to be performed by the other chaise, which in a few moments had again left them behind, while this time again the susceptible sailor had been doomed to disappointment, for as the chaise passed, the momentary glance showed him that the lady occupants head was averted, and that she was talking to her companion.
“But what a neck!” muttered the young man; “and what glorious hair! What a cluster of braids! Why, she could sit on it, I’d swear, if it were down. Confound you! will you go on?” he shouted, thrusting his head from the window. “What are you crawling like that for?”