“What has that to do with you, fellow?” said Mr Tarleton, colouring in spite of himself.
“I don’t know as how it has aught to do with me, sir, but what I was thinking was that it seems a queer set-out to me that a gentleman wishing to travel only to Wells wouldn’t drive in his own carriage — ah, and at a more seasonable time o’ day, what’s more! Not being wishful to give offence, sir, you understand.”
“I am well known in Bath,” Mr Tarleton said stiffly. “Yes, and they know me at the Old Down Inn, so you may satisfy yourself only by sending to inquire there if a Mr Tarleton has ever changed horses with them.”
“Yes, and when I’ve sent one of my boys a mile and a half up the road to make them inquiries, who’s to say you are this Mr Tarleton?” retorted the landlord. “And if you’re so well known in Bath, how comes it that postboy don’t seem to reckernize your honour? That’s what I’d like to know!”
Mr Tarleton had the greatest difficulty in maintaining his control over his temper. After a moment’s struggle, he succeeded in choking back the angry words which rose to his lips, and managed, after a most wearing argument, to persuade the landlord to have a fresh pair harnessed to the chaise, and to prevail upon the postboy who had brought him from Bath to take him back there as soon as he should have had time to refresh himself, which the landlord assured him he would certainly insist upon. Mr Tarleton then gave up his gold timepiece and his signet-ring as pledges, ordered coffee to be sent immediately to the parlour, and made haste to rejoin Hero.
He found her seated by the fire, clasping Pug in her arms, and looking the picture of tragedy. Such a look of reproach did she cast upon him as he entered the room that he exclaimed: “How could I tell? I thought you would like it! And when you kissed me — Good God, was there ever such a hideous coil?”
“Never, never!” Hero said, with whole-hearted fervour. “I cannot imagine why you should suppose that I should want you to run off with me! And to bring this horrid little dog, too!”
“But, my dear, surely you were aware that I have been head over ears in love with you these weeks past!”
Her face showed him plainly that she had been aware of no such circumstance. “In love with me? But you might be my — I mean — I mean — ”
“No, I might not!” he said, nettled. “Not your father, if that is what you were about to say! But how came you to be living with Lady Saltash, under the name of Miss Wantage? Who is your husband? Do I know him? Is he in Bath now?”