CHAPTER XVI

It was a very tedious journey, and it took the whole day to accomplish
a distance which a rapid express train now can achieve in an hour. The
coach carried six inside passengers, and they had to dine on the road.
All the passengers were strangers to Mr. Ferrars, and he was by them
unknown; one of them purchased, though with difficulty, a second
edition of the "Times" as they approached London, and favoured his
fellow-travellers with the news of the change of ministry. There was
much excitement, and the purchaser of the paper gave it as his opinion,
"that it was an intrigue of the Court and the Tories, and would never
do." Another modestly intimated that he thought there was a decided
reaction. A third announced that England would never submit to be
governed by O'Connell.

As the gloom of evening descended, Mr. Ferrars felt depressed. Though
his life at Hurstley had been pensive and melancholy, he felt now the
charm and the want of that sweet domestic distraction which had often
prevented his mind from over-brooding, and had softened life by sympathy
in little things. Nor was it without emotion that he found himself again
in London, that proud city where once he had himself been so proud. The
streets were lighted, and seemed swarming with an infinite population,
and the coach finally stopped at a great inn in the Strand, where Mr.
Ferrars thought it prudent to secure accommodation for the night. It
was too late to look after the Rodneys, but in deference to the strict
injunction of Mrs. Ferrars, he paid them a visit next morning on his way
to his political chief.

In the days of the great modistes, when an English lady might absolutely
be dressed in London, the most celebrated mantua-maker in that city was