By the time we were ready to start, the king, the duke, the duchess, and
many ladies and gentlemen of the court circle had gone to Bath, thus
giving us an opportunity to make our journey without the knowledge of any
one in Whitehall; a consideration of vast importance to us under the
circumstances. Some of our grand friends at court might have laughed at
our taking the journey with an innkeeper's daughter, in an innkeeper's
coach, but Frances and I laughed because we were happy.
There are distinct periods of good and bad luck in every man's life,
which may be felt in advance by one sensitive to occult influences,
if one will but keep good watch on one's intuitions and leave them
untrammelled by will or reason. At this time "I felt it in my bones,"
as Betty would have said, that the day of our good luck was at hand.
All conditions seemed to combine to our pleasure when, on a certain
bright spring morning, Betty, Frances, and I went down to the courtyard
of the Old Swan, where we found the coach, the horses, and even the
drivers all glittering in the sunshine.
There was ample room in the back seat of the coach for the three of us,
so Betty took one corner, Frances made herself comfortable in another,
and I took what was left, the pleasant place between them.
After Betty had kissed her father at least a dozen times, and had shed a
few tears just to make her happiness complete, the driver cracked his
whip and away we went, out through the courtyard gate, down Gracious Hill
and across London Bridge before a sleepy man could have winked his eyes.
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