"And _in_ consequence," continued the driver, with sarcastic emphasis, "as it wasn't in the bargain, and as the job's paid for beforehand, and as I've got my family to look arter, you can tell the party inside, as you're a friend of their'n, that I'm off." With that he gathered up the reins, and prepared to mount. His foot was in the air when Felix invited him to "Come and have a pint." The invitation was not to be resisted, and they adjourned to the ale-house, where, over the pint, Felix learnt the name of the street and the number of the house in which Lily lived. His purpose being served, he allowed the man to depart, and, with some satisfaction, saw the mourning-coach on its way to London. "There would have been an accident for certain," said Felix to himself, as if in apology for allowing the man to depart, "and it will be better for them to have a sober driver than a drunken one. Besides, I myself must sleep in London to-night." Then he went to an hotel of a better kind, where he was known, and made arrangements for the hire of a waggonette and a pair of good horses, and ascertained where he could stable them for the night in London. "Harness the horses," he said, "at once, and let them stand at the entrance of the churchyard: I shall return in the morning. I wonder," he mused, as he walked towards the churchyard again, "whether they will refuse to accept a courtesy from my father's son." CHAPTER XIII. THE WINNER OF THE NORTHUMBERLAND PLATE. "Though the prayers of a priest are denied to you, not less sanctified is the ground in which you lie. Tender thoughts and tender remembrance accompany you, and these are the best of prayers. It is better as it is, perhaps; better that your dust should be buried thus in silence; than that the cold words of a harsh sorrowless minister should fall upon your grave. Peace be with you!"