The Prince came home shortly after the messenger who bore this billet had left the house.  His Royal Highness was so much the better for the Bishop’s liquor, that to talk affairs to him now was of little service.  He was helped to the Royal bed; he called Castlewood familiarly by his own name; he quite forgot the part upon the acting of which his crown, his safety, depended.  ’Twas lucky that my Lady Castlewood’s servants were out of the way, and only those heard him who would not betray him.  He inquired after the adorable Beatrix, with a royal hiccup in his voice; he was easily got to bed, and in a minute or two plunged in that deep slumber and forgetfulness with which Bacchus rewards the votaries of that god.  We wished Beatrix had been there to see him in his cups.  We regretted, perhaps, that she was gone.

One of the party at Kensington Square was fool enough to ride to Hounslow that night, coram latronibus, and to the inn which the family used ordinarily in their journeys out of London.  Esmond desired my landlord not to acquaint Madam Beatrix with his coming, and had the grim satisfaction of passing by the door of the chamber where she lay with her maid, and of watching her chariot set forth in the early morning.  He saw her smile and slip money into the man’s hand who was ordered to ride behind the coach as far as Bagshot.  The road being open, and the other servant armed, it appeared she dispensed with the escort of a second domestic; and this fellow, bidding his young mistress adieu with many bows, went and took a pot of ale in the kitchen, and returned in company with his brother servant, John Coachman, and his horses, back to London.

They were not a mile out of Hounslow when the two worthies stopped for more drink, and here they were scared by seeing Colonel Esmond gallop by them.  The man said in reply to Colonel Esmond’s stern question, that his young mistress had sent her duty; only that, no other message:  she had had a very good night, and would reach Castlewood by nightfall.  The Colonel had no time for further colloquy, and galloped on swiftly to London, having business of great importance there, as my reader very well knoweth.  The thought of Beatrix riding away from the danger soothed his mind not a little.  His horse was at Kensington Square (honest Dapple knew the way thither well enough) before the tipsy guest of last night was awake and sober.

The account of the previous evening was known all over the town early next day.  A violent altercation had taken place before the Queen in the Council Chamber; and all the coffee-houses had their version of the quarrel.  The news brought my Lord Bishop early to Kensington Square, where he awaited the waking of his Royal master above stairs, and spoke confidently of having him proclaimed as Prince of Wales and heir to the throne before that day was over.  The Bishop had entertained on the previous afternoon certain of the most influential gentlemen of the true British