At the foot of the stairs I met the Captain, who was most impatiently
waiting the result of the conference. In an instant we were joined
by Sir Clement. A thousand inquiries were then made concerning Madame
Duval's opinion of the letter, and her intentions upon it: and when I
would have left them, Sir Clement, pretending equal eagerness with
the Captain, caught my hand, and repeatedly detained me, to ask
some frivolous question, to the answer of which he must be totally
indifferent. At length, however, I broke from them; they retired into
the parlour, and I executed my commission.
The carriage was soon ready; and Madame Duval, having begged Lady
Howard to say she was not well, stole softly down stairs, desiring me
to follow her. The chariot was ordered at the garden-door; and, when
we were seated, she told the man, according to the clerk's directions,
to drive to Mr. Justice Tyrell's, asking at the same time, how many
miles off he lived?
I expected he would have answered, that he knew of no such person;
but, to my great surprise, he said, "Why, 'Squire Tyrell lives about
nine miles beyond the park."
"Drive fast, then," cried she, "and you sha'n't be no worse for it."
During our ride, which was extremely tedious, she tormented herself
with a thousand fears for M. Du Bois's safety; and piqued herself
very much upon having escaped unseen by the Captain, not only that
she avoided his triumph, but because she knew him to be so much M. Du
Bois's enemy, that she was sure he would prejudice the justice against
him, and endeavour to take away his life. For my part, I was quite
ashamed of being engaged in so ridiculous an affair, and could only
think of the absurd appearance we should make upon our arrival at
Mr. Tyrell's.
When we had been out near two hours, and expected every moment to
stop at the place of our destination, I observed that Lady Howard's
servant, who attended us on horseback, rode on forward till he was
out of sight: and soon after returning, came up to the chariot window,
and delivering a note to Madame Duval, said he had met a boy who was
just coming with it to Howard Grove from the clerk of Mr. Tyrell.
While she was reading it, he rode round to the other window, and making
a sign for secrecy, put into my hand a slip of paper, on which was
written, "Whatever happens, be not alarmed-for you are safe-though
you endanger all mankind!"
I readily imagined that Sir Clement must be the author of this note,
which prepared me to expect some disagreeable adventure: but I had
no time to ponder upon it; for Madame Duval had no sooner read her
own letter, than, in an angry tone of voice, she exclaimed, "Why,
now, what a thing is this! here we're come all this way for nothing!"
She gave me the note; which informed her, that she need not trouble
herself to go to Mr. Tyrell's, as the prisoner had had the address to
escape. I congratulated her upon this fortunate incident; but she was
so much concerned at having rode so far in vain, that she seemed to
be less pleased than provoked. However, she ordered the man to make
what haste he could home, as she hoped, at least, to return before
the Captain should suspect what had passed.
The carriage turned about; and we journeyed so quietly for near an
hour, that
I began to flatter myself we should be suffered to proceed to Howard
Grove without any molestation, when suddenly, the footman called out,
"John, are we going right?"
"Why, I a'n't sure," said the coachman, "But I'm afraid we turned
wrong."
"What do you mean by that, sirrah?" said Madame Duval; "why, if you
lose your
way, we shall all be in the dark."
"I think we should turn to the left," said the footman.
"To the left!" answered the other; "No, no, I'm partly sure we should
turn to
the right."
"You had better make some enquiry," said I.
"Ma foi!" cried Madame Duval, "we're in a fine hole here!-they
neither of
them know no more than the post. However, I'll tell my Lady as sure
as you're born, you'd better find the way."
"Let's try this lane," said the footman.
"No," said the coachman, "that's the road to Canterbury; we had best
go straight on."
"Why, that's the direct London road," returned the footman, "and
will lead us
twenty miles about."
"Pardi," cried Madame Duval, "why, they won't go one way nor
t'other! and now we're come all this jaunt for nothing, I suppose we
shan't get home to-night!"
"Let's go back to the public-house," said the footman, "and ask for a
guide."
"No, no," said the other, "if we stay here a few minutes, somebody
or other
will pass by; and the horses are almost knocked up already."
"Well, I protest," cried Madame Duval, "I'd give a guinea to see
them sots
both horse-whipped! As sure as I'm alive they're drunk! Ten to one
but they'll overturn us next."
After much debating, they at length agreed to go on till we came to
some inn,
or met with a passenger who could direct us. We soon arrived at a
farm-house, and the footman alighted, and went into it.
In a few minutes he returned, and told us we might proceed, for that
he had
procured a direction: "But," added he, "it seems there are some
thieves hereabouts; and so the best way will be for you to leave
your watches and your purses with the farmer, whom I know very well,
and who is an honest man, and a tenant of my Lady's."
"Thieves!" cried Madame Duval, looking aghast; "the Lord help
us!-I've no
doubt but we shall be all murdered!"
The farmer came up to us, and we gave him all we were worth, and
the servants
followed our example. We then proceeded; and Madame Duval's anger
so entirely subsided, that, in the mildest manner imaginable, she
intreated them to make haste, and promised to tell their Lady how
diligent and obliging they had been. She perpetually stopped them,
to ask if they apprehended any danger; and was at length so much
overpowered by her fears, that she made the footman fasten his horse
to the back of the carriage, and then come and seat himself within
it. My endeavours to encourage her were fruitless: she sat in the
middle, held the man by the arm, and protested that if he did but
save her life, she would make his fortune. Her uneasiness gave me much
concern, and it was with the utmost difficulty I forbore to acquaint
her that she was imposed upon; but the mutual fear of the Captain's
resentment to me, and of her own to him, neither of which would have
any moderation, deterred me. As to the footman, he was evidently in
torture from restraining his laughter; and I observed that he was
frequently obliged to make most horrid grimaces, from pretended fear,
in order to conceal his risibility.
Very soon after, "The robbers are coming!" cried the coachman.
The footman opened the door, and jumped out of the chariot.
Madame Duval gave a loud scream.
I could no longer preserve my silence. "For Heaven's sake, my dear
Madame," said I, "don't be alarmed,-you are in no danger,-you are
quite safe,-there is nothing but-"
Here the chariot was stopped by two men in masks; who at each side
put in
their hands as if for our purses. Madame Duval sunk to the bottom
of the chariot, and implored their mercy. I shrieked involuntarily,
although prepared for the attack: one of them held me fast, while
the other tore poor Madame Duval out of the carriage, in spite of
her cries, threats, and resistance.
I was really frightened, and trembled exceedingly. "My angel!" cried
the man who held me, "you cannot surely be alarmed,-do you not know
me?-I shall hold myself in eternal abhorrence, if I have really
terrified you."
"Indeed, Sir Clement, you have," cried I:-"but, for Heaven's sake,
where is Madame Duval?-why is she forced away?"
"She is perfectly safe; the Captain has her in charge: but suffer
me now, my
adored Miss Anville, to take the only opportunity that is allowed me,
to speak upon another, a much dearer, much sweeter subject."
And then he hastily came into the chariot, and seated himself next to
me. I would fain have disengaged myself from him, but he would not let
me: "Deny me not, most charming of women," cried he, "deny me not this
only moment that is lent me, to pour forth my soul into your gentle
ears,-to tell you how much I suffer from your absence,-how much I dread
your displeasure,-and how cruelly I am affected by your coldness!"
"O, Sir, this is no time for such language;-pray leave me, pray go
to the
relief of Madame Duval,-I cannot bear that she should be treated with
such indignity."
"And will you,-can you command my absence?-When may I speak to you,
if not
now?-Does the Captain suffer me to breathe a moment out of his
sight?-and are not a thousand impertinent people for ever at your
elbow?"
"Indeed, Sir Clement, you must change your style, or I will not hear
you. The
impertinent people you mean are among my best friends; and you would
not, if you really wished me well, speak of them so disrespectfully."
"Wish you well!-O, Miss Anville, point but out to me how, in what
manner, I
may convince you of the fervour of my passion;-tell me but what
services you will accept from me,-and you shall find my life, my
fortune, my whole soul at your devotion."
"I want nothing, Sir, that you can offer;-I beg you not to talk to
me so-so
strangely. Pray leave me; and pray assure yourself you cannot take
any method so successless to show any regard for me, as entering into
schemes so frightful to Madame Duval, and so disagreeable to myself."
"The scheme was the Captain's: I even opposed it: though, I own,
I could not
refuse myself the so-long-wished-for happiness of speaking to you
once more, without so many of-your friends to watch me. And I had
flattered myself, that the note I charged the footman to give you,
would have prevented the alarm you have received."
"Well Sir, you have now, I hope, said enough; and, if you will not go
yourself to see for Madame Duval, at least suffer me to inquire what
is become of her."
"And when may I speak to you again?"
"No matter when,-I don't know,-perhaps-"
"Perhaps what, my angel?"
"Perhaps never, Sir,-if you torment me thus."
"Never! O, Miss Anville, how cruel, how piercing to my soul is
that icy
word!-Indeed I cannot endure such displeasure."
"Then, Sir, you must not provoke it. Pray leave me directly."
"I will Madam: but let me, at least, make a merit of my
obedience,-allow me
to hope that you will, in future, be less averse to trusting yourself
for a few moments alone with me"
I was surprised at the freedom of this request: but, while I hesitated
how to
answer it, the other mask came up to the chariot-door, and, in a voice
almost stifled with laughter said, "I've done for her!-the old buck
is safe;-but we must sheer off directly, or we shall be all ground."
Sir Clement instantly left me, mounted his horse, and rode off. The
Captain
having given some directions to the servants, followed him.
I was both uneasy and impatient to know the fate of Madame Duval, and
immediately got out of the chariot to seek her. I desired the footman
to show me which way she was gone; he pointed with his finger by
way of answer, and I saw that he dared not trust his voice to make
any other. I walked on at a very quick pace, and soon, to my great
consternation, perceived the poor lady seated upright in a ditch. I
flew to her with unfeigned concern at her situation. She was sobbing,
nay, almost roaring, and in the utmost agony of rage and terror. As
soon as she saw me, she redoubled her cries; but her voice was so
broken, I could not understand a word she said. I was so much shocked,
that it was with difficulty I forebore exclaiming against the cruelty
of the Captain for thus wantonly ill-treating her; and I could not
forgive myself for having passively suffered the deception. I used my
utmost endeavours to comfort her, assuring her of our present safety,
and begging her to rise and return to the chariot.
Almost bursting with passion, she pointed to her feet, and with
frightful
violence she actually tore the ground with her hands.
I then saw that her feet were tied together with a strong rope, which
was fastened to the upper branch of a tree, even with a hedge which
ran along the ditch where she sat. I endeavoured to untie the knot;
but soon found it was infinitely beyond my strength. I was, therefore,
obliged to apply to the footman; but, being very unwilling to add to
his mirth by the sight of Madame Duval's situation. I desired him to
lend me a knife: I returned with it, and cut the rope. Her feet were
soon disentangled; and then, though with great difficulty, I assisted
her to rise. But what was my astonishment, when, the moment she was
up, she hit me a violent slap on the face! I retreated from her with
precipitation and dread: and she then loaded me with reproaches, which,
though almost unintelligible, convinced me that she imagined I had
voluntarily deserted her; but she seemed not to have the slightest
suspicion that she had not been attacked by real robbers.
I was so much surprised and confounded at the blow, that, for some
time, I
suffered her to rave without making any answer; but her extreme
agitation, and real suffering, soon dispelled my anger, which all
turned into compassion. I then told her, that I had been forcibly
detained from following her, and assured her of my real sorrow of
her ill-usage.
She began to be somewhat appeased; and I again intreated her to
return to the
carriage, or give me leave to order that it should draw up to the
place where we stood. She made no answer, till I told her, that the
longer we remained still, the greater would be the danger of our
ride home. Struck with this hint, she suddenly, and with hasty steps,
moved forward.
Her dress was in such disorder, that I was quite sorry to have
her figure
exposed to the servants, who all of them, in imitation of her master,
hold her in derision: however the disgrace was unavoidable.
The ditch, happily, was almost quite dry, or she must have suffered
still
more seriously; yet so forlorn, so miserable a figure, I never before
saw her. Her head-dress had fallen off, her linen was torn, her
negligee had not a pin left in it, her petticoats she was obliged to
hold on, and her shoes were perpetually slipping off. She was covered
with dirt, weeds, and filth, and her face was really horrible; for
the pomatum and powder from her head, and the dust from the road,
were quite pasted on her skin by her tears, which, with her rouge,
made so frightful a mixture, that she hardly looked human.
The servants were ready to die with laughter the moment they saw her;
but not
all my remonstrances could prevail upon her to get into the carriage,
till she had most vehemently reproached them both for not rescuing
her. The footman, fixing his eyes on the ground, as if fearful of
again trusting himself to look at her, protested that the robbers had
vowed they would shoot him if he moved an inch, and that one of them
had stayed to watch the chariot, while the other carried her off,
adding, that the reason of their behaving so barbarously, was to
revenge our having secured our purses. Notwithstanding, her anger,
she gave immediate credit to what he said; and really imagined that her
want of money had irritated the pretended robbers to treat her with
such cruelty. I determined, therefore, to be carefully upon my guard
not to betray the imposition, which could now answer no other purpose,
then occasioning an irreparable breach between her and the Captain.
Just as we were seated in the chariot, she discovered the loss which
her head
had sustained, and called out, "My God! what is become of my hair?-why,
the villain has stole all my curls!"
She then ordered the man to run and see if he could find any of them
in the
ditch. He went, and presently returning, produced a great quantity of
hair, in such nasty condition, that I was amazed she would take it;
and the man, as he delivered it to her, found it impossible to keep
his countenance; which she no sooner observed, than all her stormy
passions were again raised. She flung the battered curls in his face,
saying, "Sirrah, what do you grin for? I wish you'd been served so
yourself, and you wouldn't have found it no such joke; you are the
impudentest fellow ever I see; and if I find you dare grin at me any
more, I shall make no ceremony of boxing your ears."
Satisfied with the threat, the man hastily retired, and we drove on.
Her anger now subsiding into grief, she began most sorrowfully to
lament her
case. "I believe," she cried, "never nobody was so unlucky as I
am! and so here, because I ha'n't had misfortunes enough already,
that puppy has made me lose my curls!-Why, I can't see nobody without
them:-only look at me,-I was never so bad off in my life before. Pardi,
if I'd know'd as much, I'd have brought two or three sets with me:
but I'd never a thought of such a thing as this."
Finding her now somewhat pacified, I ventured to ask an account of her
adventure, which I will endeavour to write in her own words.
"Why, child, all this misfortune comes of that puppy's making us
leave our
money behind us; for, as soon as the robber see I did put nothing
in his hands, he lugged me out of the chariot by main force, and I
verily thought he'd have murdered me. He was as strong as a lion;
I was no more in his hands than a child. But I believe never nobody
was so abused before; for he dragged me down the road, pulling and
hauling me all the way, as if'd no more feeling than a horse. I'm
sure I wish I could see that man cut up and quartered alive! however,
he'll come to the gallows, that's one good thing. So soon as we'd
got out of sight of the chariot, though he needn't have been afraid,
for if he'd beat me to a mummy, those cowardly fellows wouldn't have
said nothing to it-so, when I was got there, what does he do, but
all of a sudden he takes me by both the shoulders, and he gives me
such a shake!-Mon Dieu I shall never forget it, if I live to be an
hundred. I'm sure I dare say I'm out of joint all over. And though
I made as much noise as I ever could, he took no more notice of
it than nothing at all; there he stood, shaking me in that manner,
as if he was doing it for a wager. I'm determined, if it costs me
all my fortune, I'll see that villain hanged. He shall be found out,
if there's e'er a justice in England. So when he had shook me till he
was tired, and I felt all over like a jelly, without saying never a
word, he takes and pops me into the ditch! I'm sure, I thought he'd
have murdered me, as much as ever I thought any thing in my life;
for he kept bumping me about, as if he thought nothing too bad for
me. However, I'm resolved I'll never leave my purse behind me again,
the longest day I have to live. So when he couldn't stand over me
no longer, he holds out his hands again for my money; but he was as
cunning as could be, for he wouldn't speak a word, because I shouldn't
swear to his voice; however, that sha'n't save him, for I'll swear to
him any day in the year, if I can but catch him. So, when I told him I
had no money, he fell to jerking me again, just as if he had but that
moment begun! And, after that, he got me close by a tree, and out of
his pocket he pulls a great cord!-It's a wonder I did not swoon away:
for as sure as you're alive, he was going to hang to me that tree. I
screamed like any thing mad, and told him if he would but spare my
life, I'd never prosecute him, nor tell anybody what he'd done to me:
so he stood some time quite in a brown study, a-thinking what he should
do. And so, after that, he forced me to sit down in the ditch, and he
tied my feet together, just as you see them: and then, as if he had
not done enough, he twitched off my cap, and without saying nothing,
got on his horse and left me in that condition; thinking, I suppose,
that I might lie there and perish."
Though this narrative almost compelled me to laugh, yet I was really
irritated with the Captain, for carrying his love of tormenting,-sport,
he calls it,-to such barbarous and unjustifiable extremes. I consoled
and soothed her, as well as I was able: and told her, that since
M. Du Bois had escaped, I hoped, when she recovered from her fright,
all would end well.
"Fright, child!" repeated she,-"why that's not half:-I promise you,
I wish it
was: but here I'm bruised from top to toe and it's well if ever I have
the right use of my limbs again. However, I'm glad the villain got
nothing but his trouble for his pains. But here the worst is to come,
for I can't go out, because I've got no curls, and so he'll be escaped
before I can get to the justice to stop him. I'm resolved I'll tell
Lady Howard how her man served me; for if he hadn't made me fling
'em away, I dare say I would have pinned them up well enough for
the country."
"Perhaps Lady Howard may be able to lend you a cap that will wear
without
them."
"Lady Howard, indeed! why, do you think I'd wear one of her
dowdies? No, I'll
promise you, I sha'n't put on no such disguisement. It's the unluckiest
thing in the world that I did not make the man pick up the curls again;
but he put me in such a passion, I could not think of nothing. I
know I can't get none at Howard Grove for love nor money: for of
all the stupid places ever I see, that Howard Grove is the worst;
there's never no getting nothing one wants."
This sort of conversation lasted till we arrived at our journey's end;
and then a new distress occurred: Madame Duval was eager to speak
to Lady Lady Howard and Mrs. Mirvan, and to relate her misfortunes:
but she could not endure that Sir Clement or the Captain should
see her in such disorder; so she said they were so ill-natured,
that instead of pitying her, they would only make a jest of her
disasters. She therefore sent me first into the house, to wait for an
opportunity of their being out of the way, that she might steal up
stairs unobserved. In this I succeeded, as the gentlemen thought it
most prudent not to seem watching for her; though they both contrived
to divert themselves with peeping at her as she passed.
She went immediately to bed, where she had her supper. Lady Howard
and Mrs. Mirvan both of them very kindly sat with her, and listened
to her tale with compassionate attention: while Miss Mirvan and I
retired to our own room, where I was very glad to end the troubles
of the day in a comfortable conversation.
The Captain's raptures, during supper, at the success of his plan,
were boundless. I spoke afterwards to Mrs. Mirvan with the openness
which her kindness encourages, and begged her to remonstrate with
him upon the cruelty of tormenting Madame Duval so causelessly. She
promised to take the first opportunity of starting up the subject:
but said he was at present so much elated, that he would not listen
to her with any patience. However, should he make any new efforts to
molest her, I can by no means consent to be passive. Had I imagined
he would have been so violent, I would have risked his anger in her
defense much sooner.
She had kept her bed all day, and declares she is almost bruised
to death.
Adieu, my dear Sir. What a long letter have I written! I could almost
fancy I sent it to you from London!