Mr. Garrick also lifted up his hands in amazement, but he did not need to exclaim anything to emphasize the effect of his gesture.
Dr. Burney smiled, trying to catch the eye of Mr. Garrick, but Mr. Garrick took very good care that he should not succeed in doing so.
“You may well cry, 'oh, lud!'” said Mrs. Thrale. “But if you had been in the Rooms when the man entered you would not have been able to say a word for surprise, I promise you. The poor gentleman had posted all the way from town to Tunbridge, apparently for our diversion only, and what a sight he was! It seems that he had got over his fright at the coupling of his name with the lady's, while flying to London, but from this point a reaction set in, and he spent all the time that he was posting back to the Wells adding fuel to the fire of his resolution to throw himself at the feet of the lady at the earliest possible moment. Was there ever such a comedy played, Mr. Garrick?”
“'Twould be too extravagant for the theatre, madam, but not for Nature's playhouse,” replied Garrick. “I have more than once been told the story of soldiers having fled in a panic from the field of battle, but on finding themselves in a place of safety they returned to the fight and fought like demons. Was there aught that could be termed demoniacal in the gentleman's conduct on finding himself face to face with the enemy—I mean the lady?”
“Aught demoniacal, do you ask me?” cried Mrs. Thrale. “Oh, sir, have you not heard the parable of the demon that was cast out of a man, but finding its homeless condition unsupportable, sought out seven of its friends and returned with them to its former habitation, so that the last state of the man was more demoniacal than the first?”
“I fancy I have heard the parable, madam, but its application——” began Garrick, when Mrs.
Darner broke in upon him, crying:
“Do not ever attempt to point out the aptness of the application of a parable, Mrs. Thrale. Do not, if you are wise. Would you lead us to believe that the unhappy wretch found it necessary to post up to town to obtain his relay of demons for his own discomfiture when so much rank and fashion was at the Wells, though at the fag end of the season?”
“Leaving parables aside, demons and all, I can bear witness to the condition of the man when he entered the Rooms and strode with determination on his face up to where the Widow Nash was fanning herself—not without need,” said Mrs. Thrale. “It so happened that she was seated under the gallery at the furthest end of the Rooms, but our gentleman did not pause on entering to look round for her—I tell you that it seemed as if he went by instinct straight up to her, and bowing before her, said: 'Madam, may I beg the honour of a word or two with you in private?'—I was close by and so were several other equally credible witnesses, and we heard every word. The widow looked at him coolly——”
“Yes, you said she had been fanning herself,” remarked Mrs. Darner, but without interrupting the flow of the narrative.