“If so he is in error,” said Burke. “The Duchess of Argyll will never let him out of her clutches till he is safely married to the Lady Betty.”
“Till then, do you say?” said Goldsmith. “Faith, sir, if he fancies he will escape from her clutches by marrying her daughter he must have had a very limited experience of life. Still, I think the lovely young lady is most to be pitied. You heard the cold way he talked of her picture to Reynolds.”
The engagement of Lord Stanley, the heir to the earldom of Derby, to Lady Betty Hamilton, though not formally announced, was understood to be a fait accompli; but there were rumours that the young man had of late been making an effort to release himself—that it was only with difficulty the Duchess managed to secure his attendance in public upon her daughter, whose portrait was being painted by Reynolds.
The picturesque procession went slowly along amid the cheers of the crowds, and certainly not without many expressions of familiarity and friendliness toward the two ladies whose beauty of countenance and of dress was made apparent by the flambeaux of the link-boys, which also gleamed upon the thin blades of the ladies' escort. The actresses were plainly more popular than the committee of the Pantheon.
It was only when the crowds were closing in on the end of the procession that a voice cried—
“Woe unto them! Woe unto Aholah and Aholibah! Woe unto ye who follow them to your own destruction! Turn back ere it be too late!” The discordant note came from a Methodist preacher who considered the moment a seasonable one for an admonition against the frivolities of the town.
The people did not seem to agree with him in this matter. They sent up a shout of laughter, and half a dozen youths began a travesty of a Methodist service, introducing all the hysterical cries and moans with which the early followers of Wesley punctuated their prayers. In another direction a ribald parody of a Methodist hymn was sung by women as well as men; but above all the mockery the stern, strident voice of the preacher was heard.
“By my soul,” said Garrick, “that effect is strikingly dramatic. I should like to find some one who would give me a play with such a scene.”
A good-looking young officer in the uniform of the Guards, who was in the act of hurrying past where Garrick and his friends stood, turned suddenly round.
“I'll take your order, sir,” he cried. “Only you will have to pay me handsomely.”