"But we don't know his address, and Lunnon is a vast place, sir." "I am going to London, and will find it out." "Ah, sir, you seem very kind; and sin' she must go to Lunnon, (for what can we do with her here?--she's too genteel for service,) I wish she was going with you." "With me?" said Leonard startled; "with me! Well, why not?" "I am sure she comes of good blood, sir. You would have known her father was quite the gentleman, only to see him die, sir. He went off so kind and civil like, as if he was ashamed to give so much trouble--quite a gentleman, if ever there was one. And so are you, sir, I'm sure," said the landlady, curtseying; "I know what gentlefolk be. I've been a housekeeper, in the first of families in this very shire, sir, though I can't say I've served in Lunnon; and so, as gentlefolks know each other, I've no doubt you could find out her relations. Dear--dear! Coming, coming!" Here there were loud cries for the hostess, and she hurried away. The farmers and drovers were beginning to depart, and their bills were to be made out and paid. Leonard saw his hostess no more that night. The last hip-hip-hurrah, was heard; some toast, perhaps, to the health of the county members;--and the chamber of woe, beside Leonard's, rattled with the shout. By-and-by silence gradually succeeded the various dissonant sounds below. The carts and gigs rolled away; the clatter of hoofs on the road ceased; there was then a dumb dull sound as of locking-up, and low humming voices below and footsteps mounting the stairs to bed, with now and then a drunken hiccup or maudlin laugh, as some conquered votary of Bacchus was fairly carried up to his domicile. All, then, at last was silent, just as the clock from the church sounded the stroke of eleven.