At which remark another shout arose, and the glasses were tossed off with bravado, Bulchester's also being set down empty.
After this the party broke up boisterously, Edmonson and Bulchester receiving the good wishes of the company for their prosperous voyage.
Leaving the inn, they went out into the night again, in which the October moon veiled in clouds was doing its best to light the streets now almost deserted. Bulchester looked with disapprobation at his smiling companion. It was for the first time in their acquaintance, but the compact into which the earl had so unwillingly entered had sobered him, and was still ringing in his ears, giving him a sort of horror. He said this to Edmonson, who burst out laughing.
"A mere drunken freak, Bul, that counts for nothing. You will be an angel sitting on a cold cloud singing psalms long before that time. I'll warrant it. You are a good fellow. Don't bother your brains about such nonsense."
The third of November, Edmonson and Lord Bulchester sailed from Liverpool in the "Ariel" for Boston.
CHAPTER X.
TWO WHO WOULD EXCHANGE PLACES.
The winds were baffling, and Edmonson and Lord Bulchester had a longer voyage than they had counted upon. They found it tedious, and it was with satisfaction that they at last set foot on land and drove through the streets of Boston to the Royal Exchange. Edmonson's projects inspired him rather than made him anxious. It was, of course, possible that Elizabeth Royal might refuse him, but in his heart he had the attitude of a Londoner toward provincials and was not burdened with doubts as to the result of his wooing, and so the one necessary grain of uncertainty only gave flavor to the whole affair.
A few hours after his arrival he left the house to try his fortune.