The old church looked dim and solemn at evening service, its only lights were those partially illuminating the little mummy in his task of deciphering his own hieroglyphics. Then came a social cup of coffee, a parting injunction to be punctual, and we separated for the night.
Monday rose clear and bright, a warm sun and cool bracing air. I reached the Priory in good time for their early breakfast, and found Colonel Vernon and his granddaughter in high spirits, the latter looking lovely, her colour heightened by the clear morning air, and her whole countenance beaming with a joyous expression, the reflection of her pure happy heart.
Soon after ten o'clock the unwonted sound of carriages in the churchyard announced the arrival of the rest of the party, and we all assembled at the entrance gate to arrange the order of proceeding.
Cyclops already showed symptoms of improved feeding, but was as rough and shaggy as ever, as he stood whisking his tail at the flies, and occasionally giving a short cough.
The other phaeton was drawn by a tall bony brown horse, that looked as if he had seen better days, and could boast a little blood.
The Colonel politely invited Mrs. Winter to accompany him, and Kate most provokingly took her place with Mr. Winter, when some discussion arose in consequence of Winter's protesting he must take his boy to look after Cyclops; this left us minus a seat, but I obviated the difficulty by offering to drive the brown horse, leaving the original Jehu behind, and sharing the driving seat with Gilpin. Kate rewarded me with a bright smile as I handed her into Winter's phaeton.
"A dashing turn-out, Egerton," said the Colonel; "what would your friend, Colonel Dashwood, say to it?"
"That I'm in great luck to be included in so pleasant a party on any terms. I wish I could persuade you you would be safer on the driving seat with me, Miss Vernon."