Giles was in a state of the wildest happiness conceivable. There is something appalling in that fervor of mind when the human creature, forgetting all the vicissitudes of this life, treads on air and breathes and lives in Heaven. Thus I was made sad by his gladness, but I dared not show it, lest it be mistaken for a want of spirit in our enterprise, so I joined with him in his joy and revelry.
We reached Scarborough at four o’clock in the afternoon, and put up at a small inn on the outskirts of the town, and some little way on the road to the north. We sallied forth immediately to find out something about our inamoratas, and Fate—whether it was that kindly goddess who leads our footsteps toward those we love, or whether it was the cruel Destiny which delights in torturing men—at once directed us. We were walking along near the playhouse, which had been lately opened in the town, when we saw Jeames, Lady Hawkshaw’s own footman, go inside the playhouse and buy some tickets of the man at the door. As soon as he was well out of the way I sneaked in, and, thrusting two shillings into the man’s hand, inquired if Sir Peter and Lady Hawkshaw and the young ladies would favor the performance that night. The man grinned and showed me a slip of paper, on which was written in Lady Hawkshaw’s bold hand, “Three stalls for Lady Hawkshaw and party.”
This made me hope that Sir Peter would not be present, for I thought our chances of getting off would materially improve if he were not on the spot.
The play was to be over at half-past ten, and it may be imagined that we had plenty to do until then. We engaged four of the best pairs of nags in the town. We arranged to pay the postboys according to the time they took us over the border, and we felt in ourselves the strength of Titans, to overcome whatever resistance might be offered. Of course we counted on the surprise, and we determined that the best disposition to make of Lady Hawkshaw was for Giles Vernon to appear suddenly, when the people were coming out, place Lady Hawkshaw in her coach, and then make that bold dash for love and beauty which we had determined upon. Our postboys, who were not new to the perils of elopements, grinned at the prospect, and were instructed to remain near Lady Hawkshaw’s coach and impede it as much as possible, so that it might be the last to reach the door of the theater.
Our arrangements were complete by eight o’clock, and from that hour until ten we employed ourselves in disposing of a good supper at the tavern. We were in a gale of rapture then. It seemed to us both as if we were in that happy and exultant mood, when the enemy is within gun-shot and the ship is cleared for action; and we only awaited the signal for victory. We had some punch, but both Giles and myself knew enough to be exceedingly careful in attacking it.
“Dicky, my lad,” cried Giles, banging me in the back, “this day is the anniversary of the day we whipped the Indomptable and the Xantippe!”—and so it was. “So we shall capture the Indomptable, in the Lady Arabella, and we will disable the Xantippe,—ha! ha!—in my Lady Hawkshaw.”
This I thought a very fine joke indeed, and we drank to it.
“Dicky,” began Giles again, wiping his mouth after the punch, “I never thought I could be constant to any woman, as I have been to Arabella. By Heaven, the whole sex is so seductive that it was the last one I saw I loved the best. But since I knew that witch of a girl, St. Anthony himself could not be more impervious to female charms than your humble servant,” which was true enough. “And as for Overton,—that psalm-singing devil,—I defy him. Give me but a week, and he shall see Arabella hanging upon me so fondly! Let him have her thirty thousand pounds; ’tis so much dirt and dross to me. And she may be Lady Vernon yet. Do you know that old rapscallion Sir Thomas Vernon’s estate is in this part of the country? though nearer York than Scarborough. On our return from our honeymoon I have a great mind to take my Arabella to Vernon Court, and show her what may one day be hers.”
So he raved and roared out snatches like,—
“In Bacchus’ joys I’ll freely roll,