“Midnight was the hour fixed on for the _affaire_, and, punctual to the minute, Tim’s post-chaise drew up a few rods from his charmer’s door, while the gallant lieutenant himself, springing out, made all haste to the rendezvous. The night was black as pitch—you could have cut the darkness out in slices—and a wild wind blew over the fields, roaring away down in the woods, like a gale in the rigging of a line-of-battle ship. Tim could scarcely pick his way along through the garden, but at length, after sundry tacks, he gained the front of the house,—yet not a sign of a living being could he see. He began to fear that his charmer’s heart had failed her, but at that instant he perceived a dark moving object just ahead of him, and hurrying forward, he soon recognised his future bride, muffled and cloaked for the journey.
“‘Shure, and ye’re as welcome as the birds in spring,’ said Tim, catching her in his arms, ‘and it’s mighty proud I am to see ye, my darlin.’
“The trembling bride clung closer to Tim as he spoke, and murmured something in reply, but what it was, the whistle of the wind prevented him from hearing distinctly. Tim knew there was no time to lose, however, so, without waiting for a repetition of the words, he bore his prize off, and never stopped till he had placed her in the chaise, stowed her maid opposite, and was himself seated by her side.
“‘And now,’ said he, as the post-boy put up the steps, ‘don’t spare the horse-flesh—do ye hear, ye blackguard?’
“The boy nodded, and, the next instant, they were thrashing along as fast as four posters could carry them.
“If Tim had been in raptures before, he was now fairly mad with his success. Up to the last moment, he had been tormented with a fear lest something should occur by which this rich prize should slip through his fingers; but now his charmer was actually beside him, and they were being whirled over the ground at a rate which would soon defy pursuit. ‘Was ever fellow in such good luck?’ thought Tim. Thousands of acres, an only daughter, and she as clean in her run as a Baltimore clipper. How he cursed the presence of the maid, which prevented him from being as tender as he thought the occasion demanded. However, he could take his charmer’s hand, without shocking her modesty, and he went through pretty quick, all the variations of which squeezing is liable. He would have stolen his arm around the bride’s waist, but the envious cloak prevented this. Tim could scarcely endure the probation. On they rattled, all this while, with the tempest roaring at their heels, and, as the night without grew stormier, the agitation of the bride increased, she almost sobbed, and clung closer and closer every minute to Tim. It made his heart, as he said, ‘leap into his mouth intirely,’ to feel her arms around his neck in the extremity of her fright.