The carriage drove on.
'I do believe Colambre's ill; I never saw a man look so ill in my life—did you, Grace?—as he did the minute we drove on. He should take advice. I've a mind, cried Lady Clonbrony, laying her hand on the cord to stop the coachman—'I've a mind to turn about, tell him so, and ask what is the matter with him.'
'Better not!' said Miss Nugent; 'he will write to you, and tell you—if anything is the matter with him. Better go on now to Buxton!' continued she, scarcely able to speak. Lady Clonbrony let go the cord.
'But what is the matter with you, my dear Grace? for you are certainly going to die too!'
'I will tell you—as soon as I can; but don't ask me now, my dear aunt!'
'Grace, Grace! pull the cord!' cried Lady Clonbrony—'Mr. Salisbury's phaeton!—Mr. Salisbury, I'm happy to see you! We're on our way to Buxton—as I told you.'
'So am I,' said Mr. Salisbury. 'I hope to be there before your ladyship; will you honour me with any commands!—of course, I will see that everything is ready for your reception.'
Her ladyship had not any commands. Mr. Salisbury drove on rapidly.
Lady Clonbrony's ideas had now taken the Salisbury channel.
'You didn't know that Mr. Salisbury was going to Buxton to meet you, did you, Grace?' said Lady Clonbrony.