“We shall see,” replied Forster, laughing. “Meanwhile, I recommend you to make the most of your time, and enjoy yourself while you can. There is another banquet at the town-hall to day.”
“For the last time, I ask you if you are resolved not to move?”
“Not till to-morrow,” replied Forster, positively. “I am about to give general orders to that effect.”
And he quitted the room.
The countess and Dorothy looked aghast.
“What is to be done?” cried the former.
“Nothing,” replied the earl. “Nothing can be done. We are doomed.”
The announcement that the general did not mean to continue his march south till the morrow was very agreeable to the majority of the army—indeed a great many of the gentlemen troopers hoped that when the morrow came there would be another delay. They were quite as infatuated as the general, and spent the greater part of the day in the society of the ladies, A large party collected on the Ribble Bridge, but it was with no intention of defending it.
Another banquet was given at the town-hall, to which the leaders and officers were bidden. Amongst the few ladies invited, were the Countess of Dervventwater, Dorothy Forster, and Mrs. Scarisbrick. Since the last-mentioned lady was present, the general was quite happy, and perfectly indifferent to the future.
Besides this festive meeting, there were innumerable tea-parties, where the gentlemen troopers were very agreeably entertained; while the Mitre, the White Bull, and the Windmill were filled to overflowing with guests.