“Whose carriage is that?” demanded Fitzhenry, in an authoritative tone, while still supporting Lady Florence in his arms. There was a sudden silence; the contending coachmen’s whips instantly were both quieted. He again repeated his question more loudly than before. “My lord!” said one of Emmeline’s footmen, going up to Fitzhenry, “it is your lordship’s carriage.” “_My_ carriage!” he exclaimed angrily. “Who ordered it here?” “We are here with my lady,” replied the terrified footman. “Her ladyship is just getting in—shall I tell her your lordship wishes to be taken home?” “No, no, you fool!” answered Fitzhenry, in a tone of passion which Emmeline had never before heard from his lips, and which made her shudder; “drive off as fast as you can.” By this time, Pelham had put his charge, more dead than alive, into her carriage, and, not liking to leave her alone in the agitated state she then was, got in after her. Emmeline put out her feeble hand, meaning to prevent him; but, quite overcome, she could not articulate a word; and, no longer able to command herself, she burst into violent hysteric sobs. Totally mistaking her meaning, and interpreting the action into a wish that he should not leave her, Pelham tenderly seized her hand, desiring the servants to go home as fast as possible. The fallen horse was soon raised. The contending vehicles disengaged, and they drove rapidly off—but followed by cheers and laughter from the more blackguard part of the mob who had witnessed the fray; to which were added personal jokes and remarks, that made Pelham hastily draw up the glasses. Emmeline still made efforts to speak but Pelham could not distinguish a single word which she endeavoured to articulate; and, only bidding her compose herself, said every thing most kind and soothing, while he again and again pressed her hand in his. When they arrived in Grosvenor-street, he forcibly drew Emmeline’s arm within his, to help her up stairs, and, placing her on a couch, demanded in a low voice, whether she would take any thing, and whether he should send for her maid. “Oh no, I shall soon recover—make no fuss, I entreat—it is nothing—I have been very foolish—and frightened—that is all. But,” added she, with an imploring look, “leave me—for God’s sake leave me.” “Not till I see you better, I really cannot.” For her bosom still heaved with convulsive sobs, and her heart seemed bursting. Uncertain what to do, or say, and surprised at her repulsive manner towards him, Pelham walked, disturbed, up and down the room in silence, thinking it best for a little time to leave her to herself. At length, hastily coming up to her, “My dearest Lady Fitzhenry!” he exclaimed, “allow me to speak to you.”