Turning, therefore, back, 'Dame Goss,' she cried, slipping a crown-piece into her hands, with an apology for giving her so much trouble, 'hasten again to the post-office, and say that I shall come for my letter myself.'
The woman, without question or demur, received the money and set off. And she was no sooner out of sight, than Juliet, taking her own small packet, unnoticed by Master Goss, who was at work in his little garden, went forth by the opposite way; turning, as quickly as possible, from the high road, where she might most naturally be pursued; and, for all else, committing her footsteps to chance and to hope,—those last, and not seldom, best friends of distress and difficulty.
Wandering on, by paths unknown to herself, with feet not more swift than trembling; fearing she was followed, yet not daring, by a glance around, to ascertain either danger or safety, she overtook a young village-girl, who was hoydening with a smart footman; but who caught her attention, by representing to him, that, if he detained her any longer, she should miss the return-chaise, and not know how to get back to Romsey; for her mother would be too angry to wait for her even a moment.
The sound of Romsey revived the spirits of Juliet. If she could join this young person, she might find a conveyance, equally unsuspected and expeditious, to within a mile or two of the very spot where she hoped for concealment. She loitered, therefore, in sight, till the footman retreated, and then, following the girl, though with affright, by returning to the town, she soon found herself in the church-yard of the cathedral; where the damsel encountered her waiting mother, with whom, boldly defying her wrath, she began, sturdily, to wrangle.
Juliet stood aloof, during the altercation, still hoping to accompany them in their route. The beautiful Gothic structure before her, the latest and finest remains of ancient elegance, lightness, and taste, was nearly lost to her sight, from the misery and pre-occupation of her mind; though appearing now with peculiar effect, from the shadows cast upon it by the rising moon. Yet soon, in defiance of all absorption, the magnetic affinity, in a mind natively pious, of religious solemnity with sorrow, made the antique grace of this wonderful edifice, catch, even in this instant of terrour and agitation, the admiring eye of Juliet; whose mind was always open to excellence, even when most incapable of receiving any species of pleasure.
She leaned, for a moment's repose, in a recess of the building, which the shade rendered dark, nearly sinking under the horrour of pursuit, and the shame of eluding it. To find herself advertised in a news-paper!—the blood mounted indignantly into her cheeks.—Perhaps to be described!—perhaps, named! and with a reward for her discovery!—cold from them, at this surmise, the blood again descended to her heart: yet every feeling was transient, that led not to immediate escape; every reflection was momentary, that turned, not to personal safety.
The dispute between the mother and daughter was interrupted,—not finished,—by the re-appearance of the footman, who told them that the position was just going off.
They scampered instantly to an inn, from the gateway of which a post-chaise was issuing.
Juliet, who had pursued, now joined them, and proposed making one in their party.
The women neither refused nor consented; they renewed their contention, and heard only one another: but the postilion, to whom Juliet held out half-a-crown, gave her a place with readiness,—and she was driven to Romsey.