CHAPTER XXI.

A NIGHT AT HOWTH.

“And must you really leave us so soon,” said Tom as we issued forth into the street; “why I was just planning a whole week’s adventure for you.  Town is so full of all kinds of idle people, I think I could manage to make your time pass pleasantly enough.”

“Of that,” I replied, “I have little doubt; but for the reasons I have just mentioned, it is absolutely necessary that I should not lose a moment; and after arranging a few things here, I shall start to-morrow by the earliest packet, and hasten up to London at once.”

“By Jupiter,” said Tom, “how lucky.  I just remember something, which comes admirably apropos.  You are going to Paris—­is it not so?”

“Yes, direct to Paris.”

“Nothing could be better.  There is a particularly nice person, a great friend of mine, Mrs. Bingham, waiting for several days in hopes of a chaperon to take care of herself and daughter—­a lovely girl, only nineteen, you wretch—­to London, en route to the continent:  the mamma a delightful woman, and a widow, with a very satisfactory jointure—­you understand—­but the daughter, a regular downright beauty, and a ward in chancery, with how many thousand pounds I am afraid to trust myself to say.  You must know then they are the Binghams of—­, upon my soul, I forget where; but highly respectable.”

“I regret I have not the pleasure of their acquaintance, and the more because I shall not be able to make it now.”

“As why?” said Tom gravely.

“Because, in the first place, I am so confoundedly pressed for time that I could not possibly delay under any contingency that might arise; and your fair friends are, doubtless, not so eagerly determined upon travelling night and day till they reach Paris.  Secondly, to speak candidly, with my present hopes and fears weighing upon my mind, I should not be the most agreeable travelling companion to two ladies with such pretensions as you speak of; and thirdly,—­”

“Confound your thirdly.  I suppose we shall have sixteenthly, like a Presbyterian minister’s sermon, if I let you go on.  Why, they’ll not delay you one hour.  Mrs. Bingham, man, cares as little for the road as yourself; and as for your petits soins, I suppose if you get the fair ladies through the Custom-House, and see them safe in a London hotel, it is all will be required at your hands.”

“Notwithstanding all you say, I see the downright impossibility of my taking such a charge at this moment, when my own affairs require all the little attention I can bestow; and when, were I once involved with your fair friends, it might be completely out of my power to prosecute my own plans.”

As I said this, we reached the door of a handsome looking house in Kildare-street; upon which Tom left my arm, and informing me that he desired to drop a card, knocked loudly.