Mountclere faintly laughed with the same hideous merriment at the same idea, and then both remained in a withering silence, meant to express the utter contempt of each for the other, both in family and in person.  They passed the Lodge, and again swept into the highroad.

‘Drive on!’ said Mountclere, putting his head again out of the window, and shouting to the man.  ‘Drive like the devil!’ he roared again a few minutes afterwards, in fuming dissatisfaction with their rate of progress.

‘Baint I doing of it?’ said the driver, turning angrily round.  ’I ain’t going to ruin my governor’s horses for strangers who won’t pay double for ’em—­not I. I am driving as fast as I can.  If other folks get in the way with their traps I suppose I must drive round ’em, sir?’

There was a slight crash.

‘There!’ continued the coachman.  ’That’s what comes of my turning round!’

Sol looked out on the other side, and found that the forewheel of their carriage had become locked in the wheel of a dogcart they had overtaken, the road here being very narrow.  Their coachman, who knew he was to blame for this mishap, felt the advantage of taking time by the forelock in a case of accusation, and began swearing at his victim as if he were the sinner.  Sol jumped out, and looking up at the occupants of the other conveyance, saw against the sky the back elevation of his father and Christopher Julian, sitting upon a little seat which they overhung, like two big puddings upon a small dish.

‘Father—­what, you going?’ said Sol.  ’Is it about Berta that you’ve come?’

‘Yes, I got your letter,’ said Chickerel, ’and I felt I should like to come—­that I ought to come, to save her from what she’ll regret.  Luckily, this gentleman, a stranger to me, has given me a lift from Anglebury, or I must have hired.’  He pointed to Christopher.

‘But he’s Mr. Julian!’ said Sol.

’You are Mrs. Petherwin’s father?—­I have travelled in your company without knowing it!’ exclaimed Christopher, feeling and looking both astonished and puzzled.  At first, it had appeared to him that, in direct antagonism to his own purpose, her friends were favouring Ethelberta’s wedding; but it was evidently otherwise.

‘Yes, that’s father,’ said Sol.  ’Father, this is Mr. Julian.  Mr. Julian, this gentleman here is Lord Mountclere’s brother—­and, to cut the story short, we all wish to stop the wedding.’

‘Then let us get on, in Heaven’s name!’ said Mountclere.  ’You are the lady’s father?’

‘I am,’ said Chickerel.

’Then you had better come into this carriage.  We shall go faster than the dogcart.  Now, driver, are the wheels right again?’