It was strange enough that the extreme impatience, the hurried anxiety, I had felt and suffered from, while riding up the avenue, had now fled entirely, and in its place I felt nothing but a diffident distrust of myself, and a vague sense of awkwardness about intruding thus unexpectedly upon the family, while engaged in all the cares and preparations for a speedy departure.  The hall-door lay as usual wide open, the hall itself was strewn and littered with trunks, imperials, and packing-cases, and the hundred et ceteras of travelling baggage.  I hesitated a moment whether I should not ring, but at last resolved to enter unannounced, and, presuming upon my intimacy, see what effect my sudden appearance would have on Lady Jane, whose feelings towards me would be thus most unequivocally tested.  I passed along the wide corridor, entered the music-room—­it was still—­I walked then to the door of the drawing-room—­I paused—­I drew a full breath—­my hand trembled slightly as I turned the lock—­I entered—­the room was empty, but the blazing fire upon the hearth, the large arm-chairs drawn around, the scattered books upon the small tables, all told that it had been inhabited a very short time before.  Ah! thought I, looking at my watch, they are at dinner, and I began at once to devise a hundred different plans to account for my late absence and present visit.  I knew that a few minutes would probably bring them into the drawing-room, and I felt flurried and heated as the time drew near.  At last I heard voices without—­I started from the examination of a pencil drawing but partly finished, but the artist of which I could not be deceived in—­I listened —­the sounds drew near—­I could not distinguish who were the speakers —­the door-lock turned, and I rose to make my well-conned, but half-forgotten speech; and oh, confounded disappointment, Mrs. Herbert, the house-keeper, entered.  She started, not expecting to see me, and immediately said,

“Oh!  Mr. Lorrequer! then you’ve missed them.”

“Missed them!” said I; “how—­when—­where?”

“Did you not get a note from my lord?”

“No; when was it written?”

“Oh, dear me, that is so very unfortunate.  Why, sir, my lord sent off a servant this morning to Kilrush, in Lord Kilkee’s tilbury, to request you would meet them all in Ennis this evening, where they had intended to stop for to-night; and they waited here till near four o’clock to-day, but when the servant came back with the intelligence that you were from home, and not expected to return soon, they were obliged to set out, and are not going to make any delay now, till they reach London.  The last direction, however, my lord gave, was to forward her ladyship’s letter to you as soon as possible.”

What I thought, said, or felt, might be a good subject of confession to Father Malachi, for I fear it may be recorded among my sins, as I doubt not that the agony I suffered vented itself in no measured form of speech or conduct; but I have nothing to confess here on the subject, being so totally overwhelmed as not to know what I did or said.  My first gleam of reason elicited itself by asking,