As, however, her grief continued unabated, Fitz. at length began to think of the many little consolatory acts he had successfully practised in his professional career, and was just insinuating some very tender speech on the score of resignation, with his head inclined towards the weeping lady beside him, when the chaise of Mrs. Fitz. came up along-side, and the postillions having yielded to the call to halt, drew suddenly up, displaying to the enraged wife the tableau we have mentioned.
"So, wretch," she screamed rather than spoke, "I have detected you at last."
"Lord bless me! Why it is my wife."
"Yes, villain! your injured, much-wronged wife! And you, madam, may I ask what you have to say for thus eloping with a married man?"
"Shame! My dear Jemima," said Fitz. "how can you possibly permit your foolish jealousy so far to blind your reason. Don't you see I am going upon a professional call?"
"Oh! you are. Are you? Quite professional, I'll be bound."
"Oh, sir! Oh, madam! I beseech you, save me from the anger of my relatives, and the disgrace of exposure. Pray bring me back at once."
"Why, my God! ma'am, what do you mean? You are not gone mad, as well as my wife."
"Really, Mr. Fitz." said Mrs. F. "this is carrying the joke too far. Take your unfortunate victim—as I suppose she is such—home to her parents, and prepare to accompany me to the barrack; and if there be law and justice in—"
"Well! may the Lord in his mercy preserve my senses, or you will both drive me clean mad."