That Rotherham would be very angry with him, he had no doubt; that Rotherham (and, indeed, several other interested persons) would have every right to be angry, scarcely occurred to him. In general, of course, elopements were condemned; in his case, only an insensate person could fail to perceive the purity of his motive. The thing was not so much an elopement as a rescue. Indeed, only as a last resort had he planned it, when he had failed to induce Emily to be resolute.

He was up betimes in the morning, for he had much to do. The sale of his watch was disappointing; he was obliged, regretfully, to part with his second-best fob, and a very pretty tie-pin as well; and even when these sacrifices had been made the hire of a chaise-and-four to the Border was quite out of the reach of his purse. With post-charges as high as one shilling and twopence per mile for each horse, the hire of a chaise-and-pair only for a journey of over three hundred miles would, he realized, leave him in extremely straitened circumstances. Like Mrs Floore, he felt that to elope in anything less than a chaise-and-four was odiously shabby, but there was no help for it. Then it occurred to him that to pay off the chaise at some point along the road, and to continue by stage, or mail, would not only be a vast saving, but would throw Rotherham (if he pursued them) off the scent. So he booked a chaise to Wolverhampton, and began to think that in so doing he had performed a masterly stroke.

This mood of elation was of brief duration. He and the yellow-bodied chaise arrived in Queen’s Square precisely at five minutes to ten, in case Emily should be early, which meant that for twenty-five tense minutes he had nothing to do but walk up and down one side of the square, in fretting impatience, a prey to every gloomy foreboding. And when Emily did appear, carrying two bandboxes, and looking perfectly distracted, she exclaimed breathlessly, and in total disregard of the post-boy: “Oh, I am so sorry! I could not escape before, because Betsey was for ever in and out of Grandmama’s room, and she must have seen me! Pray don’t be vexed! Indeed, it was not my fault!”

Nothing could have been more unfortunate, as Gerard was immediately to discover. The postilion, ejecting the straw from his mouth, indicated in unmistakable terms that, being possessed of strong scruples, he could not bring himself, unless greased in the fist, to assist in a runaway marriage. His manner was amiability itself, and a broad grin adorned his homely countenance, but Gerard, grinding his teeth, thought it well to comply with his suggestion, and to untie the strings of his purse. Among the incidental expenses of the journey he had not foreseen the need to bribe the post-boys, so it was not surprising that his first words to Emily, when he climbed up into the chaise, and sat down beside her, were more aggrieved than lover-like. “What in thunder made you say all that in that fellow’s hearing?” he demanded. “When I had taken care to tell them at the stables that you were my sister! Of course, if you mean to blurt out the truth in that fashion, I shall have no money left to pay the post-boys, or the tolls, or anything!”

“Oh, I am sorry! Oh, don’t be vexed!” she replied imploringly.

“No, no!” he assured her. “Good God, how could I be vexed with you, dearest, sweetest Emily? I only said—well, you must own it was the most totty-headed thing to do!”

Her lip trembled. “Oh—!”

“No, not that!” Gerard said hastily, slipping his arm round her waist. “Just a dear little goose! But do take care, my darling! Setting aside all else, if it were known along the road that we were eloping, we should be easily traced, and we don’t want that, do we?”

No, decidedly Emily did not want that. The mere thought of being pursued made her shiver, and turn saucer-like eyes towards him. “D-do you suppose M-mama will come after me?” she faltered.

“Good God!” he ejaculated. “I had not thought of that! Yes, very likely she might, only I daresay she will not find it convenient to drop as much blunt as a chaise-and-four would need, because you told me yourself your papa don’t often find himself with the dibs in tune, and you’ve no notion what it costs to hire four horses, Emily! You may depend upon it she’d hire a pair only!”

“Yes, but Grandmama has a great deal of money!”

“Well, it doesn’t signify. If she isn’t expected to arrive in Bath until the afternoon, we shall have several hours’ start of her. She’d never catch us—even if she knew the way we had gone, which she won’t. The person I was thinking of is Rotherham.”

“Oh, no! Oh, Gerard, no!”

He patted her shoulder soothingly. “Don’t be afraid! Even if he did catch us, I shall not permit him to alarm you,” he said stoutly. “The only thing is that I’d as lief he didn’t come up with us, because of this dashed business of my being his ward. It’s bound to make things awkward. However, there’s no reason to suppose he means to come to Bath today, and in any event I’ve got a precious good scheme for throwing him off the scent! If he’s devilish clever, he might be able to follow us as far as to Wolverhampton, but I flatter myself he’ll throw-up there, because I’ve provided him with a regular stopper! We shall pay off the chaise, Emily, and go on by stagecoach! Depend upon it, he will never think of that, particularly as we shall have to change stages at one or two places. I think there are no stages running direct from there to Carlisle, which is where I thought we should change into a chaise again.”

“But it is horridly uncomfortable on the stage!” objected Emily.

She was still unconvinced that she would find a complicated journey by stagecoach entertaining when they reached Bristol, and changed horses for the first time. Gerard kept a sharp eye on the extortionate post-boy, alighting from the chaise, and engaging him in talk to prevent his passing the word to the new postilion that he was helping an eloping couple to reach the Border. Meanwhile, the ostlers, adjured to fig out two lively ones, poled up the two most lethargic animals in the stables, and assured Gerard (with a wink at the post-boy) that they would be found to be prime steppers. After a very short distance, it became obvious that they were prime stumblers, and Gerard, letting down the window in the front of the chaise, angrily scolded the postilion, who at once pulled up, and, slewing himself round in the saddle, hotly defended himself. Emily tugged at Gerard’s sleeve, begging him not to argue with the man,, and pointing out, very sensibly, that since there was no possibility of changing the undesirable steeds until the next posting-house was reached, it was wasting precious time to quarrel with the postilion. Gerard sat back again, fuming with wrath, and the chaise was set in motion with a sudden jerk that almost flung the passengers on to its floor.

To persons anxious to put as much space between themselves and Bath as possible, and in the shortest time, the slow progress over the next nine miles was agonizing. Emily soon became a prey to agitating reflections. Against all reason, she fancied that they were already being pursued, and every time an imperative blast on a horn gave notice that some faster vehicle was about to pass the chaise, she clutched Gerard’s arm, and uttered a shriek. However, at the Ship Inn they fared better, being supplied with two strengthy beasts, and a youthful post-boy, who, on being urged to spring ’em a bit, obeyed with such enthusiasm that the body of the chaise rocked and lurched so violently that Emily began to feel sick. Gerard had to request the post-boy to abate the pace, but he felt that a good deal of lost time had been made up, and applied himself to the task of assuaging Emily’s fears, and directing her thoughts towards a halcyon future. By dint of skimming lightly over the next year or two, and dwelling on the time when he should have become an important member of Lord Liverpool’s administration, he succeeded pretty well. By the time the Cambridge Inn was reached, twenty-three miles out of Bristol, Emily had temporarily forgotten her fears in discussing the rival merits of Green Street and Grosvenor Square as possible localities for the house of a rising politician.

A couple of miles farther on, a slight contretemps occurred, at the Church End turnpike, where the pike-keeper made a spirited attempt to overcharge one whom he took to be a greenhorn. But from this encounter Gerard came off triumphant, which pleased him so much that he began to feel more confident; and for the next four miles boasted to Emily of all the occasions when ugly customers, trying to cheat him, had found themselves powerfully set down.

It was at about this time that Serena and Mr Goring, after a splendid cross-country gallop, dropped into a narrow lane, leading to the village of Dursley from the Bristol to Gloucester pike-road.

“By Jove, Lady Serena, you’re a devil to go!” Mr Goring exclaimed, in involuntary admiration.

She laughed, leaning forward to pat the mare’s steaming neck. “I like a slapping pace, don’t you?”

“I should have called it a splitting pace!” he retorted. “Neck or nothing! My heart was in my mouth when you rode straight for that drop fence!”

“Was it indeed? It didn’t seem to me that you were precisely hanging back, Mr Goring!”

He smiled. “Why, if you chose to take the fence, what could I do but follow?”

“Very true! Pitting that peacocky bay of yours against my mare, you could do nothing else—but you did your best to get ahead of me, I thought!” she said, throwing him a quizzical look. “Confess that you enjoyed that last point as much as I did! For myself, I could almost forgive Gerard and Emily their iniquities: I haven’t liked anything so well since I came to Bath. What is the time?”