Never shall I forget that dismal wedding journey back to Scarborough. I began, for the first time, to fear the reproaches of the world in general, and Sir Peter and Lady Hawkshaw in particular, in regard to running away with an heiress. I had one comfort, however; Daphne fully believed in my disinterestedness; and I can sincerely say I wished Daphne’s fortune at the bottom of the sea, if I could but have wooed and won her in the ordinary course of events.
Lady Arabella traveled just ahead of us, but took occasion to show her anger and resentment against us in every way.
About half the distance to Scarborough we met full in the road a traveling chariot, and in it were Sir Peter and Lady Hawkshaw.
We found that the hostlers had earned their money, and that the Hawkshaws’ chaise had broken down at least once in every stage.
When we met and stopped, Arabella alighted, and so did we, and so did the Hawkshaws; and the first word that was spoken was by Daphne.
“Uncle Peter,” she said, “don’t fly at Richard. If you must know it, I ran away with him; for I am sure, although he is as brave as a lion, it never would have dawned upon him to run away with me, if I had not put the idea in his head, and kept it there.”
“Sir,” said I, “and Madam,” turning to Lady Hawkshaw, “I beg you will not listen to this young lady’s plea. I am wholly responsible for the circumstances of our marriage. I can, however, and do, call Heaven to witness, that her fortune had nothing to do with it, and I should have been happy and proud to take her, with the clothes on her back, and nothing more.”
Sir Peter began to sputter, but Lady Hawkshaw cut him short.
“Exactly what you said, Sir Peter, within an hour of our marriage.”
Thus were Sir Peter’s guns dismounted.