Who the devil is this Ariamenes? cried Glanville, rising in a passion. And why am I to suffer for his crime, pray? For Heaven's sake, dear cousin, don't let your imagination wander thus. Upon my soul, I don't believe there is any such person as Ariamenes in the world.
Vile equivocator, said Arabella; Ariamenes, though dead to Cynecia, is alive to the deluded Arabella. The crimes of Ariamenes are the guilt of Glanville: and if the one has made himself unworthy of the princess of Gaul, by his perfidy and ingratitude, the other by his baseness and deceit, merits nothing but contempt and detestation from Arabella.
Frenzy, by my soul, cried Glanville mutteringly between his teeth: this is downright frenzy. What shall I do?——
Hence, from my presence, resumed Arabella, false and ungrateful man; persecute me no more with the hateful offers of thy love. From this moment I banish thee from my thoughts for ever; and neither as Glanville or as Ariamenes will I ever behold thee more.
Stay, dear cousin, said Glanville holding her (for she was endeavouring to rush by him, unwilling he should see the tears that had overspread her face as she pronounced those words): hear me, I beg you, but one word. Who is it you mean by Ariamenes?—Is it me?—Tell me, madam, I beseech you—This is some horrid mistake—You have been imposed upon by some villainous artifice—Speak, dear Lady Bella—Is it me you mean by Ariamenes? For so your last words seemed to hint.——
Arabella, without regarding what he said, struggled violently to force her hand from his: and finding him still earnest to detain her, told him with an enraged voice, that she would call for help, if he did not unhand her directly.
Poor Glanville, at this menace, submissively dropped her hand; and the moment she was free, she flew out of the room, and locking herself up in her closet, sent her commands to him by one of her women, whom she called to her, to leave her apartment immediately.
[1] This enigmatical way of speaking upon such occasions, is of great use in the voluminous French romances; since the doubt and confusion it is the cause of, both to the accused and accuser, gives rise to a great number of succeeding mistakes, and consequently adventures.