seen dashing northwards as fast as whip and spur could drive them.

The banker was furious. He raged and stormed as he ordered his servants
to procure the fastest horses money could command; and with lavish
promises of reward to the postboys he set out in hot pursuit of the
fugitives. Luckily they had no long start; and, with better horses, more
frequent changes, and a heavier purse, he had little doubt that he would
soon overtake them. But the chase was sterner and longer than he had
imagined. Cupid lends wings to runaway lovers. Fast as Mr Child's
sweating horses raced, they gained but little on the pursued. Through
the long night, the next day, and the following night the desperate race
continued--through sleeping villages and startled towns, over hill and
moor, until the borderland grew near. Then, between Penrith and
Carlisle, the quarry was at last sighted.

Mr Child's horses, urged to a final effort by the postboys, slowly but
surely reduced the interval; and now inch by inch they draw abreast of
the runaway chaise. The moment of triumph has come. Mr Child, with body
half protruding from the chaise, calls loudly on the fugitives to halt,
shaking his fist at the smiling face of the Earl, who with one hand
waves a graceful adieu, with the other presents a pistol at Mr Child's
near leader. A flash, a report, and the horse falls dead. A few minutes
later the Earl's chaise is a distant dark speck in a cloud of dust, at
which the baffled banker impotently shakes his fist.

Before the fallen horse could be removed and the chase resumed the
runaways had got so long a start that they could laugh at further
pursuit; and by the time Child's chaise rattled impotently through the
street of Gretna village, his daughter had been a Countess a good hour.