A billet-doux, said the man.
Lucy, for fear she should forget it, repeated the words billet-doux several times as she went up stairs; but entering her lady's apartment, she, perceiving the letters in her hand, asked her so sternly how she durst presume to bring them into her presence, that the poor girl in her fright forgot the lesson she had been conning; and endeavouring to recall it into her memory, took no notice of her lady's question, which she repeated several times, but to no purpose.
Arabella, surprised at her inattention, reiterated her commands in a tone somewhat louder than usual; asking her at the same time, why she did not obey her immediately?
Indeed, madam, replied Lucy, your ladyship would not order me to take back the letters, if you knew what they were. They are not love-letters: I was resolved to be sure of that before I took them. This, madam, is a letter about business of consequence; and the other——Oh dear! I can't think what the man called it! But it is not a love-letter, indeed, madam.
You are a simple wench, said Arabella, smiling. You may depend upon it, all letters directed to me must contain matters of love and gallantry; and those I am not permitted to receive. Take them away then immediately. But stay, pursued she, seeing she was about to obey her: one of them, you say, was delivered to you as a letter of consequence. Perhaps it is so: indeed, it may contain an advertisement of some design to carry me away. How do I know but Mr. Selvin, incited by his love and despair, may intend to make such an attempt? Give me that letter, Lucy, I am resolved to open it. As for the other——yet, who knows but the other may also bring me warning of the same danger from another quarter! The pains Mr. Tinsel took to conceal his passion, nay, almost as I think, to deny it, amounts to a proof that he is meditating some way to make sure of me. It is certainly so. Give me that letter, Lucy; I should be accessary to their intended violence, if I neglected this timely discovery.
Well, cried she, taking one of the letters, this is exactly like what happened to the beautiful princess of Cappadocia; who, like me, in one and the same day, received advice that two of her lovers intended to carry her off.
As she pronounced these words, Miss Glanville entered the room, to whom Arabella immediately recounted the adventure of the letters; telling her she did not doubt but that they contained a discovery of some conspiracy to carry her away.
And whom does your ladyship suspect of such a strange design, pray? said Miss Glanville, smiling.
At present, replied Arabella, the two cavaliers who walked with us to-day are the persons who seem the most likely to attempt that violence.
I dare answer for Mr. Tinsel, replied Miss Glanville: he thinks of no such thing.