Dwelling with eagerness upon this thought, because it afforded her a temporary relief from others more tormenting, she resolved to go to the park, though she had but little hopes of finding Cynecia there; supposing it but too probable that the disturbance which the sight, or fancied sight, of Ariamenes had given her, would confine her for some days to her chamber. Yet however small the probability was of meeting with her, she could not resist the impatient desire she felt of going to seek her.
Dispensing therefore with the attendance of any other servant but Lucy, she left her apartment, with a design of resuming her usual walk, when she was met, at her stepping out of the door, by Lady L——'s three daughters (who had visited her during her residence at Richmond) and another young lady.
These ladies, who to vary the scene of their rural diversions, were going to cross over to Twickenham, and walk there, pressed Lady Bella to accompany them. Our melancholy heroine refused them at first; but upon their repeated importunity, recollecting that the princess of Gaul had informed her she resided there, she consented to go, in hopes some favourable chance might bring her in their way, or discover the place of her retreat, when she could easily find some excuse for leaving her companions, and going to her.
Mr. Roberts, who according to his instructions, narrowly watched Arabella's motions, finding she did not command his attendance as usual, resolved however to be privately of this party. He had but just time to run up and acquaint Mr. Glanville, and then followed the ladies at a distance, who taking boat, passed over to Twickenham, which he also did as soon as he saw them landed.
[Chapter VIII.]
Which acquaints the reader with two very extraordinary accidents.
Mr. Glanville, who did not doubt but Roberts would bring him some intelligence, sat waiting with anxious impatience for his return. The evening drew on apace, he numbered the hours, and began to grow uneasy at Arabella's long stay. His chamber-window looking into the garden, he thought he saw his cousin, covered with her veil as usual, hasten down one of the walks. His heart leaped at this transient view: he threw up the sash, and looking out, saw her very plainly strike into a cross-walk, and a moment after saw Sir George, who came out of a little summer-house, at her feet. Transported with rage at this sight, he snatched up his sword, flew down the stairs into the garden, and came running like a madman up the walk in which the lovers were. The lady observing him first, for Sir George's back was towards him, shrieked aloud, and not knowing what she did, ran towards the house, crying for help, and came back as fast, yet not time enough to prevent mischief: for Mr. Glanville, actuated by an irresistible fury, cried out to Sir George to defend himself, who had but just time to draw his sword and make an ineffectual pass at Mr. Glanville, when he received his into his body, and fell to the ground.
Mr. Glanville losing his resentment insensibly, at the sight of his rival's blood, threw down his sword, and endeavoured to support him; while the lady, who had lost her veil in her running, and to the great astonishment of Mr. Glanville, proved to be his sister, came up to them, with tears and exclamations, blaming herself for all that had happened. Mr. Glanville, with a heart throbbing with remorse for what he had done, gazed on his sister with an accusing look, as she hung over the wounded baronet with streaming eyes, sometimes wringing her hands, then clasping them together in an agony of grief.