"The postchaise," cried the attorney, "where is it?"
"The postchaise, was it for you?"
"To be sure."
"It has just driven off with the Englishman."
"With the Englishman!" gasped Elben. "Destruction! And Emily in it!"
"Emily! my cousin! The devil! What do you mean?"
"Alexis, you are my friend—with you I need not dissemble. That carriage was to bear me and Emily from her father's tyranny. I put her into it ten minutes ago. She insisted I should be armed, and I returned for these!"
And, throwing open his cloak, he exhibited a pair of enormous horse pistols, and a rapier, which, from its antiquated fashion, might have belonged to a cotemporary of the Great Frederick.
"And whilst you were arming," cried the incorrigible Alexis, convulsed with laughter, "the Great Unknown ran off with your bride. Well, you may rely he will not take her far. He is in too great haste to escape, to encumber himself with baggage. And you will be spared a journey, for my uncle no longer opposes your marriage."
At that moment the garden door opened, and Emily stood before them. No sooner had the romantic damsel sent her knight to arm himself, than she remembered an indispensable condition of an elopement, which she had forgotten to observe, and hurried back to her apartment, to leave upon her table a line addressed to her father, deprecating his wrath, and pleading the irresistible force of love. A few words from Alexis gave her and Elben the joyful assurance that no obstacle now barred their union.