carriage with four horses which had been waiting for him,
drove off."

Sheridan, unconscious and apparently dying, was driven from the Downs to
a neighbouring inn, "The White Hart," where for a time he hung betwixt
life and death. On hearing of his condition Miss Linley (who at the time
was singing at Cambridge) travelled post-haste to his bedside; and,
tenderly nursed by his wife and his sister, the wounded man slowly
fought his way back to strength.

One would have thought that, after such a tragic experience and
observing the mutual devotion of the young couple, their parents would
have relented and given their approval of the union, however improvident
and inexcusable it might appear to them. But, on both sides, they were
obdurate; and Mr Sheridan carried his opposition to the extent of
extracting from his son a promise that he would not even see his wife.

But love laughs at parents' frowns and usually triumphs in the end. When
Elizabeth Linley went away to London to sing in oratorio, her husband
followed her; and, in the _rôle_ of hackney coachman, had the pleasure
of driving not only his wife but her father, home nightly from the
concert-room, without either of them suspecting his identity. When at
last he revealed himself to his wife, her delight was so great as to
leave no doubt of the sincere love she bore him. Many a secret meeting
followed; a final joint appeal ultimately broke down the obduracy of the
parents; and once again Sheridan led his bride to the altar, to make her
finally and securely his own.

For a time Richard Sheridan and his Nightingale found a haven in a
remote, rose-covered cottage at East Burnham. These were days of