"Bill, what should you know of love?"
"What should I, or what shouldn't I,—up, I say, and off. G—'s name, it is gettin' light!"
Finding there was no remedy, L'Estrange mounted, and the three rode along the shore till they got to Musselburgh, when Archy turned off to the right; Bill and L'Estrange kept on till they reached a barren stretch of sand and common, where three more men met them. The five walked to the beach, where a smuggler's craft was in readiness. Leaving one to take away the horses, the other four embarked, and set sail. A fresh breeze, which had sprung up after the storm, swelled the sails, and they soon rounded the bay, steering southward.
Leaving them, we now return to the Towers. Of course, the news of the escape was so unlooked for—so startling—that for some time it was hardly credited. The Earl, the Captain, and one or two others rode in to Edinburgh, and found everyone at the prison in a vast state of excitement. A more audacious escape had never been perpetrated. Moreover, the turnkey was also missing, and the detectives could gain no clue. Hundreds of visitors saw the cell, the bars filed through, the rope still hanging, and the tracks of the fall on the rocks. Here, as a matter of course, all traces were lost, and it was conjectured he might be hiding in some of the dens of the old town. The most vigilant inquiries ended, however, in nought. It was evident he had bold and powerful confederates. The Earl was not without anxiety about Ellen, and determined to take her from the spot for some time. The marriage was fixed for the first week in November, and meantime Lord and Lady Arranmore invited the Earl, Lady Florence, and Miss Ravensworth to spend a month or two at their residence, Claremont Castle, close to Killarney. The Captain left for Brighton, promising to be up at the marriage, and bring Sir Harry Maynard, Major Forbes, young Pringle, and others. The rest of the visitors left for their respective homes, receiving an invitation to come to Dun Edin Towers on the 8th of November, when the castle would be all decked out for the ceremony. A letter from Frank also announced he had got leave, and would come home from Corfu in time for his brother's marriage.
CHAPTER II.
"And ruder words will yet rush in
To spread the breach that words begin."—Moore.
We pass over the time spent at Claremont Castle, and again introduce our readers to the dining-room at the Towers, where a large party sat down to a very handsome repast. At the head of the table sat the Marchioness doing the honours of her brother's table with the greatest grace; she had but lately made the Marquis happy by the tribute of a son and heir to his titles. On the right of the Earl sat his bride elect in blushing loveliness, and down the long table we observe many old faces amongst a tribe of new. Talking to a pretty girl sat Sir Richard, about the middle of the table; directly opposite him was the Captain. Frank, lately returned from the Mediterranean, sat a few seats from the Marchioness. Then there was Scroop, Wilson, and Sir Harry Maynard, Major Forster, young Pringle, and numbers of ladies, amongst whom Lady Florence shone next Johnny, who was her devoted admirer; Mr. Lennox, Mr. Power, the clergyman, and Mr. Ravensworth made up a large company. The greatest merriment prevailed, and every one was speaking of the approaching marriage.
"How have you amused yourself to-day?" said the Earl, who had been in Edinburgh with Mr. Ravensworth and Ellen, as he cut into the fine haunch of venison that smoked on its massive silver plate; "it has been snowing so hard, I suppose it kept you in the house."
"Snow doesn't keep me in," said the Captain; "I and Pringle were riding, though most preferred the ladies' company to snowy roads."