The effect was instantaneous: scarcely crediting his ears that heard her call him "dear," his eyes, that saw her winning smile upon him, he started from his chair, and trembling with agitation, flung himself at her feet, to Emily's unqualified astonishment.
"Why, Julian, what's the matter?—unhand me, sir! let go!" (for he had got hold of her wrist.)
The passionate youth seized her hand—that one with Charles's ring upon it—and would have kissed it wildly with polluting lips, had she not shrieked suddenly "Help! help!"
Instantly his other hand was roughly dashed upon her mouth—so roughly that it almost knocked her backwards—and the blood flowed from her wounded lip; but by a preternatural effort, the indignant Indian queen hurled the ruffian from her, flew to the bell, and kept on ringing violently.
In less than half a minute all the household was around her, headed by the startled Mrs. Tracy, who had all the while been listening in the other drawing-room: butler, footmen, house-maids, ladies'-maids, cook, scullions, and all rushed in, thinking the house was on fire.
No need to explain by a word. Emily, radiant in imperial charms, stood, like inspired Cassandra, flashing indignation from her eyes at the cowering caitiff on the floor. The mother, turning all manner of colours, dropped on her knees to "poor Julian's" assistance, affecting to believe him taken ill. But Emily Warren, whose insulted pride vouchsafed not a word to that guilty couple, soon undeceived all parties, by addressing the butler in a voice tremulous and broken—
"Mr. Saunders—be so good—as to go—to Sir Abraham Tamworth's—in the square—and request of him—a night's—protection—for a poor—defenceless, insulted woman!"
She could hardly utter the last words for choking tears: but immediately battling down her feelings, added, with the calmness of a heroine—
"You are a father, Mr. Saunders—set all this before Sir Abraham strongly, but delicately.
"Footmen! so long as that wretch is in the room, protect me, as you are men."