Just then, Lady Betty's Bell was pulled pretty sharply, and Gatty was obliged to run off. I could see, by Mr. Heavitree's wincing, that he could not abide the Remembrance of her menial Position, and that it would not be his Fault if she long retained it. I ushered him into the Parlour. My Father, in his easy Chair, stretches out his Hand to him. "Mr. Heavitree," says he heartily, "I'm glad to see you." "You see a very dirty Fellow, Sir," says Mr. Heavitree laughing. "Why, you are dirty, indeed," says my Father, surveying him; "is this the Way you come a-courting? I should say you had been rolling in the Gutter." "Something like it," says Mr. Heavitree; "we Country Folks got feared by this Talk of the Earthquake, so I thought I'd just come up to Town and look after Gatty; but, Sir, what a Place this London is! My Danger along the Road, of being attacked by the Fellow they call the Flying Highwayman, was nothing to what it was when I got into the Streets. I put up my Horse at an Inn, and then set forth, as clean as you'd wish to see me, to Lady Betty's, where I expected to find Gatty; but it was already getting dark, and by Reason of the Panic the Town was almost deserted except by the very worst Sort, who care neither for Heaven nor Earth, and who seemed minded to make the Desertion of Houses an Occasion for pretty general Plunder. Here and there twinkled a miserable little solitary Oil Lamp; here and there a Lantern flitted across, or a Ray of a Tallow Candle streamed from some Window, but with these Exceptions, which only seemed to make Darkness more dismal, there was Nothing to prevent one from breaking one's Shins against Posts and Door-Steps, or walking straight into the Gutters. I was hustled once or twice, and began to think Affairs were not much mended since my Lord Mayor and the Aldermen went up to the King. Suddenly I was pounced on by three disorderly Fellows, who collared me and dragged me into a dark Cellar. One of them held a Lantern to my Face and said, 'Jem, this isn't our Man,' on which I was pushed out pretty near as roughly as I was pulled in. This did not hinder me of taking to my Heels, which occasioned my stumbling into an enormous Heap of wet Mud by the Side of the Foot-Path, with ne'er a Lamp near it, which made me in the Pickle you see. However, I got to Lady Betty's, where I found the Mansion deserted by all save one poor Maid, who sate reading of her Bible by the Light of a Kitchen Candle; all the rest having decamped as soon as my Lady was off, in the Opinion that their Safety was quite as dear to them as hers to her. I asked the poor Creature if she were not afeared to be alone at such a Crisis; but she seemed to be Something of a Predestinarian, and said her Time could come but once, and when the Lord would; she could trust herself in his Hands. I obtained from her that Gatty and my Lady had gone to the Chelsea Bun-House; so then I knew they were with you, Mrs. Patty; and having got a Direction to Chelsea, I soon made out, when I reached it, my Way here. But oh, what a State all the Fields and waste Grounds about you are in! People in Tents, Booths, Carts, Coaches, and Caravans; awaiting the Morning Light. The Field Preachers are busy among them, and are exhorting attentive Multitudes: but will the Impression survive To-morrow?—I think, Sir, my Mud is dry now; and if you will lend me a Clothes-Brush, I'll step out and groom myself a little."
Chapter XIX.
The Vigil.
"That's as good-looking a young Man," says my Father, "as ever I saw—quite a Mate for Gatty."
"Hush, Father, he'll hear you," says Prue softly.
"He can't," says Father, lowering his Voice, however.