It was Sir Michael Audley's barouche which came to so sudden a stop
before the little inn. The harness of one of the leaders had become out
of order, and the foremost postillion dismounted to set it right.

"Why, it's my uncle," cried Robert Audley, as the carriage stopped.
"I'll run down and speak to him."

George lit another cigar, and, sheltered by the window-curtains, looked
out at the little party. Alicia sat with her back to the horses, and he
could perceive, even in the dusk, that she was a handsome brunette; but
Lady Audley was seated on the side of the carriage furthest from the
inn, and he could see nothing of the fair-haired paragon of whom he had
heard so much.

"Why, Robert," exclaimed Sir Michael, as his nephew emerged from the
inn, "this is a surprise!"

"I have not come to intrude upon you at the Court, my dear uncle," said
the young man, as the baronet shook him by the hand in his own hearty
fashion. "Essex is my native county, you know, and about this time of
year I generally have a touch of homesickness; so George and I have come
down to the inn for two or three day's fishing."

"George--George who?"

"George Talboys."

"What, has he come?" cried Alicia. "I'm so glad; for I'm dying to see
this handsome young widower."