Miss Mordaunt complied with this demand, and implored the "good gentleman" not to murder her.
The highwayman gave no reply; but vouchsafed a most satisfactory proof of his intended forbearance in that respect, by putting spurs to his steed, and darting off like an arrow in the direction of Hounslow.
"Cowardly villains that you are!" ejaculated the livery-servant, hurling this reproach against the postboys.
"And what are you, old fool?" cried the postillion who rode the wheel-horse. "But he'll be nabbed yet."
"Drive on—drive on!" exclaimed Lady Hatfield from the window. "We are all frightened—and not hurt."
"Indeed, my dear," said Miss Mordaunt, as the carriage started off rapidly once more, "I am seriously hurt—grievously wounded!"
"You, Julia!" cried her ladyship, in unfeigned surprise.
"Yes—in pocket," was the answer, implying deep vexation. "All the remainder of my quarter's allowance——"
"Oh! compose yourself on that head," interrupted Lady Hatfield. "You shall not be compelled to acquaint Mr. Mordaunt with your loss."
This assurance, conveying a promise of pecuniary assistance, materially tended to tranquillise the mind of Miss Mordaunt; but the event which had just occurred—apart from the mere robbery of her reticule—awoke the most painful reflections in the mind of Lady Hatfield.