Well, ’tis a strange case, a very strange one, said Miss Rawlins; and was going to say further, when the angry beauty, coming towards the door, said, Mrs. Moore, I beg a word with you. And they both stepped into the dining-room.
I saw her just before put a parcel into her pocket; and followed them out, for fear she should slip away; and stepping to the stairs, that she might not go by me, Will, cried I, aloud (though I knew he was not near)—Pray, child, to a maid, who answered, call either of my servants to me.
She then came up to me with a wrathful countenance: do you call your servant, Sir, to hinder me, between you, from going where I please?
Don’t, my dearest life, misinterpret everything I do. Can you think me so mean and unworthy as to employ a servant to constrain you?—I call him to send to the public-houses, or inns in this town, to inquire after Captain Tomlinson, who may have alighted at some one of them, and be now, perhaps, needlessly adjusting his dress; and I would have him come, were he to be without clothes, God forgive me! for I am stabbed to the heart by your cruelty.
Answer was returned, that neither of my servants was in the way.
Not in the way, said I!—Whither can the dogs be gone?
O Sir! with a scornful air; not far, I’ll warrant. One of them was under the window just now; according to order, I suppose, to watch my steps—but I will do what I please, and go where I please; and that to your face.
God forbid, that I should hinder you in anything that you may do with safety to yourself!
Now I verily believe that her design was to slip out, in pursuance of the closet-whispering between her and Miss Rawlins; perhaps to Miss Rawlins’s house.
She then stepped back to Mrs. Moore, and gave her something, which proved to be a diamond ring, and desired her (not whisperingly, but with an air of defiance to me) that that might be a pledge for her, till she defrayed her demands; which she should soon find means to do; having no more money about her than she might have occasion for before she came to an acquaintance’s.
Mrs. Moore would have declined taking it; but she would not be denied; and then, wiping her eyes, she put on her gloves—nobody has a right to stop me, said she!—I will go!—Whom should I be afraid of?—Her very question, charming creature! testifying her fear.
I beg pardon, Madam, (turning to Mrs. Moore, and courtesying), for the trouble I have given you.—I beg pardon, Madam, to Miss Rawlins, (courtesying likewise to her)—you may both hear of me in a happier hour, if such a one fall to my lot—and God bless you both!—struggling with her tears till she sobbed—and away was tripping.
I stepped to the door: I put it to; and setting my back against it, took her struggling hand—My dearest life! my angel! said I, why will you thus distress me?—Is this the forgiveness which you so solemnly promised?—
Unhand me, Sir!—You have no business with me! You have no right over me! You know you have not.
But whither, whither, my dearest love, would you go!—Think you not that I will follow you, were it to the world’s end!—Whither would you go?
Well do you ask me, whither I would go, who have been the occasion that I have not a friend left!—But God, who knows my innocence, and my upright intentions, will not wholly abandon me when I am out of your power; but while I am in it, I cannot expect a gleam of the divine grace or favour to reach me.
How severe is this!—How shockingly severe!—Out of your presence, my angry fair-one, I can neither hope for the one nor the other. As my cousin Montague, in the letter you have read, observes, You are my polar star and my guide, and if ever I am to be happy, either here or hereafter, it must be in and by you.
She would then have opened the door. But I, respectfully opposing her, Begone, man! Begone, Mr. Lovelace! said she, stop not in my way. If you would not that I should attempt the window, give me passage by the door; for, once more, you have no right to detain me.
Your resentments, my dearest life, I will own to be well grounded. I will acknowledge that I have been all in fault. On my knee, (and down I dropped), I ask your pardon. And can you refuse to ratify your own promise? Look forward to the happy prospect before us. See you not my Lord M. and Lady Sarah longing to bless you, for blessing me, and their whole family? Can you take no pleasure in the promised visit of Lady Betty and my cousin Montague? And in the protection they offer you, if you are dissatisfied with mine? Have you no wish to see your uncle’s friend? Stay only till Captain Tomlinson comes. Receive from him the news of your uncle’s compliance with the wishes of both.
She seemed altogether distressed; was ready to sink; and forced to lean against the wainscot, as I kneeled at her feet. A stream of tears at last burst from her less indignant eyes. Good heaven! said she, lifting up her lovely face, and clasped hands, what is at last to be my destiny? Deliver me from this dangerous man; and direct me—I know not what to do, what I can do, nor what I ought to do!
The women, as I had owned our marriage to be but half completed, heard nothing in this whole scene to contradict (not flagrantly to contradict) what I had asserted. They believed they saw in her returning temper, and staggered resolution, a love for me,
