Fitz-Edward fetched it, wrapt her in it, and led her down stairs; and by a garden door, they reached a sort of back stable-yard, where rubbish and stable-litter was usually thrown, and which opened into a bye-lane, where the garden-wall formed a sudden angle. Delamere received her with transport, which he tried to check; and reproached her for refusing to come down to him.
Seizing the opportunity, as soon as he would give her leave to speak, she very forcibly represented to him the distress of his family at his absence, and the particular uneasiness it inflicted on his sister Augusta.
'I knew not,' said Delamere, 'that she was come home.'
Emmeline told him she was, and related the purport of her letter, and again besought him to put an end to the uncertainty and anxiety of his family.
Delamere heard her with some impatience; and holding her hands in his, vehemently answered—'It is to no purpose that my father either threatens or persuades me. He has long known my resolution; and the unhappiness which you so warmly describe arises solely from his and my mother's own unreasonable and capricious prejudice—prejudice founded in pride and avarice. I do not think myself accountable for distress to which they may so easily put an end. But as to Augusta, who really loves me, I will write to her to make her easy. Now Emmeline, since I have listened to you, and answered all you have to urge, hear my final determination—If you still continue firm in your chimerical and romantic obstinacy, which you call honour, I go from hence this evening, never to return—you condemn me to perpetual exile—you give me up to despair!'
He called aloud, and a post-chaise and four, which had been concealed by the projection of the wall, attended by two servants, drove round. 'There,' continued Delamere, 'there is the vehicle which I have prepared to carry me from hence. You know whether I easily relinquish a resolution once formed. If then you wish to save my father and mother from the anguish of repentance when there will be no remedy—if you desire to save from the frenzy of desperation the brother of your Augusta, and to snatch from the extremity of wretchedness the man who lives but to adore you, go with me—go with me to Scotland!'
Astonished and terrified at the impetuosity with which he pressed this unexpected proposal, Emmeline would have replied, but words were a moment wanting. Fitz-Edward taking advantage of her silence, used every argument which Delamere had omitted, to determine her.
'No! no!' cried she—'never! never! I have passed my honour to Lord Montreville. It is sacred—I cannot, I will not forfeit it!'
'The time will come,' said Fitz-Edward, 'believe me it will, when Lord Montreville will not only be reconciled to you, but'——
'And what shall reconcile me to myself? Let me go back to the house, Mr. Delamere; or from this moment I shall consider you as having taken advantage of my unprotected state, and even of my indiscreet confidence, to offer me the grossest outrage. Let me go, Sir!' (struggling to get her hand from Fitz-Edward) 'Let me go! Mr. Delamere.'