two, three hours passed, and there came no invitation. Harry was fain to
have his trunks open at last, and to call for his slippers and gown. Just
before dark, about two hours after the arrival of the first carriage, a
second chariot with four horses had passed over the bridge, and a stout,
high-coloured lady, with a very dark pair of eyes, had looked hard at Mr.
Warrington. That was the Baroness Bernstein, the landlady said, my lord's
aunt, and Harry remembered the first Lady Castlewood had come of a German
family. Earl, and Countess, and Baroness, and postillions, and gentlemen,
and horses, had all disappeared behind the castle gate, and Harry was
fain to go to bed at last, in the most melancholy mood and with a cruel
sense of neglect and loneliness in his young heart. He could not sleep,
and, besides, ere long, heard a prodigious noise, and cursing, and
giggling, and screaming from my landlady's bar, which would have served
to keep him awake.

Then Gumbo's voice was heard without, remonstrating, "You cannot go in,
sar--my master asleep, sar!" but a shrill voice, with many oaths,
which Harry Warrington recognised, cursed Gumbo for a stupid, negro
woolly-pate, and he was pushed aside, giving entrance to a flood of oaths
into the room, and a young gentleman behind them.

"Beg your pardon, Cousin Warrington," cried the young blasphemer, "are
you asleep? Beg your pardon for riding you over on the bridge. Didn't
know you--course shouldn't have done it--thought it was a lawyer with a
writ--dressed in black, you know. Gad! thought it was Nathan come to nab
me." And Mr. William laughed incoherently. It was evident that he was
excited with liquor.

"You did me great honour to mistake me for a sheriff's-officer, cousin,"
says Harry, with great gravity, sitting up in his tall nightcap.