"Away! away, my Lord," cried I, pushing him from me, "you promised to restrain your passion; why then is it thus boundless? Intitle yourself to my consideration, before you thus demand returns."
"I make no demands. I have done. But I flattered myself I read your soft wishes in your lovely eyes," [Detestable wretch! how my soul rose up against him! but fear restrained my tongue.] "But tell me, my adorable angel, if I tear myself from you now, when shall I be so happy as to behold you again?"
"To-morrow," I answered; "I shall be in more composed spirits to-morrow, and then I will see you here; but do not expect too much. And now leave me this moment, as I have said more than I ought."
"I obey, dearest Julia," cried the insolent creature, "I obey." And, blessed be Heaven! he left the room. I sprung to the door, and double-locked it; then called Win into the room, who had heard the whole of this conversation. The poor soul was as pale as ashes; her looks were contagious; I caught the infection; and, forgetting the distance betwixt us (but misery makes us all equal), I threw my arms round her, and shed floods of tears into her faithful bosom. When my storms of grief had a little subsided, or indeed when nature had exhausted her store, I became more calm, and had it in my power to consider what steps I should take, as you may believe I had nothing further from my intention than meeting this vile man again. I soon came to the determination to send to Miss Finch, as there was no one to whom I could apply for an asylum; I mean, for the present, as I am convinced I shall find the properest and most welcome in your's and my dear father's arms bye and bye. I rang the bell; one of the horrid bailiffs came for my orders. I desired to have Griffith called to me. I wrote a note to Miss Finch, telling her in a few words the situation of my affairs, and that my dread was so great of receiving further insult from Lord Biddulph, that I could not support the idea of passing the night surrounded by such wretches, therefore intreated her to send some one in whom she could confide, in her carriage, to convey me to her for a little time, till I could hear from my friends. In a quarter of an hour Griffith returned, with a billet containing only three lines—but oh, how much comfort. "My dearest creature, my heart bleeds for your distresses; there is no one so proper as your true friend to convey you hither. I will be with you in an instant; your's, for ever,
MARIA FINCH."
I made Win bundle up a few night-cloaths and trifles that we both might want, and in a short time I found myself pressed to the bosom of my dear Maria. She had risen from her bed, where she had lain two days, to fly to my succour. Ah! how much am I indebted to her! By Miss Finch's advice, I wrote a few words to—oh! what shall I call him?—the man, my Louisa, who tore me from the fostering bosom of my beloved father, to abandon me to the miseries and infamy of the world! I wrote thus:
"Abandoned and forsaken by him to whom I alone ought to look up for protection, I am (though, alas! unable) obliged to be the guardian of my own honour. I have left your house; happy, happy had it been for me, never to have entered it! I seek that asylum from strangers, I can no longer meet with from my husband. I have suffered too much from my fatal connexion with you, to feel disposed to consign myself to everlasting infamy (notwithstanding I have your permission), to extricate you from a trivial inconvenience. Remember, this is the first instance in which I ever disobeyed your will. May you see your error, reform, and be happy! So prays your much-injured, but still faithful wife,
JULIA STANLEY."
Miss Finch, with the goodness of an angel, took me home with her; nor would she leave me a moment to myself. She has indulged me with permission to write this account, to save me the trouble of repeating it to her. And now, my Louisa, and you, my dear honoured father, will you receive your poor wanderer? Will you heal her heart-rending sorrows, and suffer her to seek for happiness, at least a restoration of ease, in your tender bosoms? Will you hush her cares, and teach her to kiss the hand which chastises her? Oh! how I long to pour forth my soul into the breast from whence I expect to derive all my earthly comfort!
Adieu!