All Will’s account, from the lady’s flight to his finding her again, all the accounts of the people of the house, the coachman’s information to Will, and so forth, collected together, stand thus:
“The Hampstead coach, when the dear fugitive came to it, had but two passengers in it. But she made the fellow to go off directly, paying for the vacant places.
“The two passengers directing the coachman to set them down at the Upper Flask, she bid him set her down there also.
“They took leave of her, (very respectfully, no doubt), and she went into the house, and asked, if she could not have a dish of tea, and a room to herself for half an hour.
“They showed her up to the very room where I now am. She sat at the very table I now write upon; and, I believe, the chair I sit in was hers.” O Belford, if thou knowest what love is, thou wilt be able to account for these minutiae.
“She seemed spiritless and fatigued. The gentlewoman herself chose to attend so genteel and lovely a guest. She asked her if she would have bread and butter with her tea?
“No. She could not eat.
“They had very good biscuits.
“As she pleased.
“The gentlewoman stepped out for some, and returning on a sudden, she observed the sweet little fugitive endeavouring to restrain a violent burst of grief to which she had given way in the little interval.
“However, when the tea came, she made the landlady sit down with her, and asked her abundance of questions, about the villages and roads in the neighbourhood.
“The gentlewoman took notice to her, that she seemed to be troubled in mind
.
“Tender spirits, she replied, could not part with dear friends without concern.”
She meant me, no doubt.
“She made no inquiry about a lodging, though by the sequel, thou’lt observe, that she seemed to intend to go no farther that night than Hampstead. But after she had drank two dishes, and put a biscuit in her pocket, (sweet soul! to serve for her supper, perhaps), she laid down half-a-crown; and refusing change, sighing, took leave, saying she would proceed towards Hendon; the distance to which had been one of her questions.
“They offered to send to know if a Hampstead coach were not to go to Hendon that evening.
“No matter, she said—perhaps she might meet the chariot.”
Another of her feints, I suppose: for how, or with whom, could anything of this sort have been concerted since yesterday morning?
“She had, as the people took notice to one another, something so uncommonly noble in her air, and in her person and behaviour, that they were sure she was of quality. And having no servant with her of either sex, her eyes, (her fine eyes, the gentlewoman called them, stranger as she was, and a woman!) being swelled and red, they were sure there was an elopement in the case, either from parents or guardians; for they supposed her too young and too maidenly to be a married lady; and were she married, no husband would let such a fine young creature to be unattended and alone; nor give her cause for so much grief, as seemed to be settled in her countenance. Then at times she seemed to be so bewildered, they said, that they were afraid she had it in her head to make away with herself.
“All these things put together, excited their curiosity; and they engaged a peery servant, as they called a footman who was drinking with Kit the hostler, at the taphouse, to watch all her motions. This fellow reported the following particulars, as they re-reported to me:
“She indeed went towards Hendon, passing by the sign of the Castle on the Heath; then, stopping, looked about her, and down into the valley before her. Then, turning her face towards London, she seemed, by the motion of her handkerchief to her eyes, to weep; repenting (who knows?) the rash step she had taken, and wishing herself back again.”
Better for her, if she do, Jack, once more I say!—Woe be to the girl who could think of marrying me, yet to be able to run away from me, and renounce me forever!
“Then, continuing on a few paces, she stopped again—and, as if disliking her road, again seeming to weep, directed her course back towards Hampstead.”
I am glad she wept so much, because no heart bursts, (be the occasion for the sorrow what it will), which has that kindly relief. Hence I hardly ever am moved at the sight of these pellucid fugitives in a fine woman. How often, in the past twelve hours, have I wished that I could cry most confoundedly?
“She then saw a coach-and-four driving towards her empty. She crossed the path she was in, as if to meet it, and seemed to intend to speak to the coachman, had he stopped or spoken first. He as earnestly looked at her.—Everyone did so who passed her, (so the man who dogged her was the less suspected.”)—Happy rogue of a coachman, hadst thou known whose notice thou didst engage, and whom thou mightest have obliged!—It was the divine Clarissa Harlowe at whom thou gazest!—Mine own Clarissa Harlowe!—But it was well for me that thou wert as undistinguishing as the beasts thou drovest; otherwise, what a wild-goose chase had I been led?
“The lady, as well as the coachman, in short, seemed to want resolution;—the horses kept on—(the fellow’s head and eyes,
