‘Then, of course, I threw my money about—must have a round of drinks for luck. I never saw a publican yet that could refuse to serve a “shout.” Then, of course, _they_ must treat me, seeing I was behaving so handsome. Then I must have another round for all hands; and last of all, I gammoned to be a bit “sprung,” and must propose the bride’s health. So I made ’em fill up. Homminey’s little round eyes was beginning to twinkle a bit, and old Walton was getting affectionate, but Carry’s mother watched us both like a cat. I said, “I knowed the bride these two years or more, and I proposed her health, and that of the good-hearted, honest, straightforward chap as was going to marry her to-morrow morning.” This fetched ’em about a bit. I said, “I’d knowed him a goodish while, and heard tell of him, too, and a better feller couldn’t be. After he was married he’d be still better,—a deal better, _that_ I could safely go bail for. He couldn’t help it, with such a wife. I therefore gave the health of Miss Carry Walton and her husband that was to be, to-morrow, and no heel-taps.” I never proposed my own health before. ‘Well, Homminey, after this, came over and squeezed my hand in his great mutton fist, and looked at me, as if he wasn’t quite sure; then he bust out and said I was a real good-natured chap, as didn’t bear malice, and I’d always be welcome at Richmond Point. ‘“Right you are, old corn-cob,” says I; “I’ll come and see you the very first time you ask me. And now let’s have a bit of a dance to finish up with, for my time’s short, and I must be off. The steamer leaves at daylight.” ‘Well, between the grog, and being that glad to get rid of me, that they’d have done anything to see my back, they all agreed to it. There were three or four other girls there; one of ’em, his cousin, was fourteen stone if she was a pound. I gave her a few turns when the music struck up, and then turned to Carry, quite promiskus, directly the tune was altered. ‘“Oh dear, oh dear, why did you come?” she said in a low tone; “wasn’t I miserable enough before?” ‘“You know the cross-roads?” I says, knocking against the tall chap’s partner to drown the words. “There’s no time for talking. If you’re as true to me as I am to you, will you do as I tell you?” ‘“You know I will,” she said; “what can I do?” ‘“Can you get out of your bedroom?” I says. ‘“No. I don’t know. Yes—perhaps. I think I can,” she said in a strange voice, not a bit like her own. ‘“Then get away the moment you get to bed—don’t stop to take anything with you, but make straight for the cross-roads. Inside the trees you’ll see a buggy with a boy. Stay with him till I come. It will be there till daylight and long afterwards. Will you come, Carry?” ‘“If I don’t come I shall be mad, or locked up, or dead,” she said, with such a miserable look on her face that I could hardly help kissing her and comforting her before them all.