Page 96 - bleak-house

finishing touch. Halloa! What’s the matter?’
We had stopped, and the waggon had stopped too. Its
music changed as the horses came to a stand, and subsided
to a gentle tinkling, except when a horse tossed his head
or shook himself and sprinkled off a little shower of bell-
ringing.
‘Our postilion is looking after the waggoner,’ said Rich-
ard, ‘and the waggoner is coming back after us. Good day,
friend!’ The waggoner was at our coach-door. ‘Why, here’s
an extraordinary thing!’ added Richard, looking closely at
the man. ‘He has got your name, Ada, in his hat!’
He had all our names in his hat. Tucked within the
band were three small notes—one addressed to Ada, one to
Richard, one to me. These the waggoner delivered to each
of us respectively, reading the name aloud first. In answer
to Richard’s inquiry from whom they came, he briefly an-
swered, ‘Master, sir, if you please”; and putting on his hat
again (which was like a soft bowl), cracked his whip, re-
awakened his music, and went melodiously away.
‘Is that Mr. Jarndyce’s waggon?’ said Richard, calling to
our postboy.
‘Yes, sir,’ he replied. ‘Going to London.’
We opened the notes. Each was a counterpart of the oth-
er and contained these words in a solid, plain hand.
‘I look forward, my dear, to our meeting easily and with-
out constraint on either side. I therefore have to propose
that we meet as old friends and take the past for granted. It
will be a relief to you possibly, and to me certainly, and so
my love to you.

96 Bleak House