We shall not pause to describe the affectionate meeting which now ensued between the brother and sister—the congratulations upon Eleanor's escape from peril, intermingled with the tenderest embraces, and the warmest thanks offered to Ranulph for his gallant service. "She is yours, my dear boy," said the major; "and though you are a Rookwood, and she bears the ill-fated name of Eleanor, I predict that, contrary to the usual custom of our families in such cases, all your misfortunes will have occurred before marriage."
"There is only one thing," said Small, with a very peculiar expression, which might almost be construed into serio-comic, could we suspect the benevolent doctor of any such waggery, "that can possibly throw a shade over our present felicity. Lady Rookwood is not to be found."
"My poor mother," said Ranulph, starting.
"Make yourself easy," said the doctor; "I doubt not we shall hear of her to-morrow. My only apprehension," added he, half aside, "is, that she may be heard of before."
"One other circumstance afflicts me," said Ranulph. "Poor Mr. Coates!"
"What's that you say of Mr. Coates, Sir Ranulph?" exclaimed Titus.
"I fear he was killed in the recent affray," said Ranulph. "Let some one search for the body."
"Kilt!" echoed Titus. "Is it kilt that Mr. Coates is? Ah! ullagone, and is it over with him entirely? Is he gone to rejoin his father, the thief-taker? Bring me to his remains."
"He will bring them to you himself," said the attorney, stepping forward. "Luckily, Sir Ranulph," said the incurable punster, "it was merely the outer coats that your sword passed through; the inner remains uninjured, so that you did not act as my conveyancer to eternity. Body o' me! I've as many lives as a cat—ha, ha!"
Ranulph welcomed the facetious man of law with no little satisfaction.