She gave me the note; which informed her, that she need not trouble herself to go to Mr. Tyrell’s, as the prisoner had had the address to escape. I congratulated her upon this fortunate incident; but she was so much concerned at having rode so far in vain, that she seemed to be less pleased than provoked. However, she ordered the man to make what haste he could home, as she hoped, at least, to return before the Captain should suspect what had passed.
The carriage turned about; and we journeyed so quietly for near an
hour, that
I began to flatter myself we should be suffered to proceed to Howard
Grove without any molestation, when suddenly, the footman called out,
“John, are we going right?”
“Why, I a’n’t sure,” said the coachman, “But I’m afraid we turned
wrong.”
“What do you mean by that, sirrah?” said Madame Duval; “why, if you
lose your
way, we shall all be in the dark.”
“I think we should turn to the left,” said the footman.
“To the left!” answered the other; “No, no, I’m partly sure we should
turn to
the right.”
“You had better make some enquiry,” said I.
“Ma foi!” cried Madame Duval, “we’re in a fine hole here!-they
neither of
them know no more than the post. However, I’ll tell my Lady as sure
as you’re born, you’d better find the way.”
“Let’s try this lane,” said the footman.
“No,” said the coachman, “that’s the road to Canterbury; we had best go straight on.”
“Why, that’s the direct London road,” returned the footman, “and
will lead us
twenty miles about.”
“Pardi,” cried Madame Duval, “why, they won’t go one way nor
t’other! and now we’re come all this jaunt for nothing, I suppose we
shan’t get home to-night!”
“Let’s go back to the public-house,” said the footman, “and ask for a
guide.”
“No, no,” said the other, “if we stay here a few minutes, somebody
or other
will pass by; and the horses are almost knocked up already.”
“Well, I protest,” cried Madame Duval, “I’d give a guinea to see
them sots
both horse-whipped! As sure as I’m alive they’re drunk! Ten to one
but they’ll overturn us next.”
After much debating, they at length agreed to go on till we came to
some inn,
or met with a passenger who could direct us. We soon arrived at a
farm-house, and the footman alighted, and went into it.
In a few minutes he returned, and told us we might proceed, for that
he had
procured a direction: “But,” added he, “it seems there are some
thieves hereabouts; and so the best way will be for you to leave
your watches and your purses with the farmer, whom I know very well,
and who is an honest man, and a tenant of my Lady’s.”
“Thieves!” cried Madame Duval, looking aghast; “the Lord help
us!-I’ve no
doubt but we shall be all murdered!”
The farmer came up to us, and we gave him all we were worth, and
the servants
followed our example. We then proceeded; and Madame Duval’s anger
so entirely subsided, that, in the mildest manner imaginable, she
intreated them to make haste, and promised to tell their Lady how
diligent and obliging they had been. She perpetually stopped them,
to ask if they apprehended any danger; and was at length so much
overpowered by her fears, that she made the footman fasten his horse
to the back of the carriage, and then come and seat himself within
it. My endeavours to encourage her were fruitless: she sat in the
middle, held the man by the arm, and protested that if he did but
save her life, she would make his fortune. Her uneasiness gave me much
concern, and it was with the utmost difficulty I forbore to acquaint
her that she was imposed upon; but the mutual fear of the Captain’s
resentment to me, and of her own to him, neither of which would have
any moderation, deterred me. As to the footman, he was evidently in
torture from restraining his laughter; and I observed that he was
frequently obliged to make most horrid grimaces, from pretended fear,
in order to conceal his risibility.
Very soon after, “The robbers are coming!” cried the coachman.
The footman opened the door, and jumped out of the chariot.