"I have ordered the two sledges," said the Earl, glad to change the conversation.
"Oh! hurrah! are you coming with me, girls?"
"No, thank you, John! we have more respect for our lives."
"You will, Arranmore; I told Wilton," (the master of the horse,) "to put in the two unbroken Irish beggars in my one—tandem fashion."
"No, Arthur, don't go," said Edith.
"Pshaw! don't frighten him, Edith. I shall think you are a coward if you won't come."
"No fear for that, I'll go," answered the Marquis.
"You will come with me, girls?"
"Yes, we are not afraid of you, Wentworth."
Accordingly after breakfast the sleighs were brought round to the door, and all clad in furs ready to face the cold. First the Captain had to get off, and though he was a first-rate whip it was no easy matter, and twice he was nearly over ere he could get the ponies under control. At last he was off at a dashing rate, and had apparently lost all control of his horses long before he was out of sight. In a more dignified manner the Earl and Frank drove off with Lady Edith and Florence inside, wrapped in the costliest furs. Following the traces of the Captain's sledge they soon came to a spot where it was evident a disaster had occurred—a broken trace—wild plunges in the snow—and a shattered fir-tree, the cause of the mishap. The tracks, however, afterwards went on more regularly, which showed no one had been hurt.