Chapter IX.
"Tell me, where is fancy bred--
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?"
SONG IN SHAKSPEARE.
The travellers were several hours ascending into the mountains, by a country road that could scarcely be surpassed by a French wheel-track of the same sort, for Mademoiselle Viefville protested, twenty times in the course of the morning, that it was a thousand pities Mr. Effingham had not the privilege of the corvée, that he might cause the approach to his terres to be kept in better condition. At length they reached the summit, a point where the waters began to flow south, when the road became tolerably level. From this time their progress became more rapid, and they continued to advance two or three hours longer at a steady pace.
Aristabulus now informed his companions that, in obedience to instructions from John Effingham, he had ordered the coachmen to take a road that led a little from the direct line of their journey, and that they had now been travelling for some time on the more ancient route to Templeton.
"I was aware of this," said Mr. Effingham, "though ignorant of the reason. We are on the great western turnpike."
"Certainly, sir, and all according to Mr. John's request. There would have been a great saving in distance, and agreeably to my notion, in horse-flesh, had we quietly gone down the banks of the lake."
"Jack will explain his own meaning," returned Mr. Effingham, "and he has stopped the other carriage, and alighted with Sir George,--a hint, I fancy, that we are to follow their example."
Sure enough, the second carriage was now stopped, and Sir George hastened to open its door.
"Mr. John Effingham, who acts as cicerone," cried the baronet, "insists that every one shall put pied á terre at this precise spot, keeping the important reason still a secret, in the recesses of his own bosom."