CHAPTER V
'Tis she!—Pope.
O Vous!—Telemachus.
All hail!—Macbeth.
An Extraordinary Rencontre. — Pathetic Repartees. — Natural Consequences resulting from an Excess in Spirituous Liquors. — Terrific Nonsense talked by two Maniacs.
One night as Lord Theodore, on his return from the theatre, was passing along a dark alley, he perceived a candle lighting in a small window, on the ground-floor of a deciduous hovel.
An indescribable sensation, an unaccountable something, whispered to him, in still, small accents, 'peep through the pane.' He did so; but what were his emotions, when he beheld—whom? Why the very young lady that he had left for dead in the forest—his Hysterica!!!
She was clearstarching in a dimity bedgown.
He sleeked his eyebrows with his finger, then flung open the sash, and stood before her.
'Ah, ma belle Amie!' cried he. 'So I have caught you at last. I really thought you were dead.'