Confounded art, cunning villany!—By my soul, she had like to have
slipped through my fingers! She meant nothing by her message but to get
Dorcas out of the way, and a clear coast. Is a fancied distress,
sufficient to justify this lady for dispensing with her principles?
Does she not show me that she can wilfully deceive, as well as I?
Had she been in the fore-house, and no passage to go through to get at
the street-door, she had certainly been gone. But her haste betrayed
her: for Sally Martin happening to be in the fore-parlour, and hearing
a swifter motion than usual, and a rustling of silks, as if from
somebody in a hurry, looked out; and seeing who it was, stept between
her and the door, and set her back against it.
You must not go, Madam. Indeed you must not.
By what right?—And how dare you?—And such-like imperious airs the dear
creature gave herself.—While Sally called out for her aunt; and half a
dozen voiced joined instantly in the cry, for me to hasten down, to
hasten down in a moment.
I was gravely instructing Dorcas above stairs, and wondering what would
be the subject of the conversation to which the wench was to be a
witness, when these outcries reached my ears. And down I flew.—And
there was the charming creature, the sweet deceiver, panting for
breath, her back against the partition, a parcel in her hand, [women
make no excursions without their parcels,] Sally, Polly, (but Polly
obligingly pleaded for her,) the mother, Mabell, and Peter, (the
footman of the house,) about her; all, however, keeping their distance;
the mother and Sally between her and the door—in her soft rage the dear
soul repeating, I will go—nobody has a right—I will go—if you kill me,
women, I won’t go up again!
As soon as she saw me, she stept a pace or two towards me; Mr.
Lovelace, I will go! said she—do you authorize these women—what right
have they, or you either, to stop me?
Is this, my dear, preparative to the conversation you led me to expect
in the dining-room? And do you think I can part with you thus?—Do you
think I will.
And am I, Sir, to be thus beset?—Surrounded thus?—What have these women
to do with me?
I desired them to leave us, all but Dorcas, who was down as soon as I.
I then thought it right to assume an air of resolution, having found my
tameness so greatly triumphed over. And now, my dear, said I, (urging
her reluctant feet,) be pleased to walk into the fore-parlour. Here,
since you will not go up stairs, here we may hold our parley; and
Dorcas will be witness to it. And now, Madam, seating her, and sticking
my hands in my sides, your pleasure!
Insolent villain! said the furious lady. And rising, ran to the window,
and threw up the sash, [she knew not, I suppose, that there were iron
rails before the windows.] And, when she found she could not get out
into the street, clasping her uplifted hands together, having dropt her
parcel—For the love of God, good honest man!—For the love of God,
mistress—[to two passers by,] a poor, a poor creature, said she,
ruined!——
I clasped her in my arms, people beginning to gather about the window:
and then she cried out Murder! help! help! and carried her up to the
dining-room, in spite of her little plotting heart, (as I may now call
it,) although she violently struggled, catching hold of the banisters
here and there, as she could. I would have seated her there; but she
sunk down half-motionless, pale as ashes. And a violent burst of tears
happily relieved her.
Dorcas wept over her. The wench was actually moved for her!
Violent hysterics succeeded. I left her to Mabell, Dorcas, and Polly;
the latter the most supportable to her of the sisterhood.
This attempt, so resolutely made, alarmed me not a little.
Mrs. Sinclair and her nymphs, are much more concerned; because of the
reputation of their house as they call it, having received some insults
(broken windows threatened) to make them produce the young creature who
cried out.
While the mobbish inquisitors were in the height of their office, the
women came running up to me, to know what they should do; a constable
being actually fetched.
Get the constable into the parlour, said I, with three or four of the
forwardest of the mob, and produce one of the nymphs, onion-eyed, in a
moment, with disordered head-dress and handkerchief, and let her own
herself the person: the occasion, a female skirmish: but satisfied with
the justice done her. Then give a dram or two to each fellow, and all
will be well.