“Come, come,” cried she, going to her, and roughly shaking her shoulder, “have done with those tragedy airs, and prepare yourself against the carriage you ordered, comes: it will be at the door in a few minutes.”
Amanda looked round the room. “Is Lord Mortimer gone, then?” said she. “Lord, to be sure he is,” cried the housekeeper; “he left you on the floor, and, as he went out, he said you should never have another opportunity of deceiving him.”
A sudden frenzy seemed to seize Amanda; she wrung her hands, called upon Lord Mortimer in the impassioned language of despair, and flung herself on the ground, exclaiming, “This last stroke is more than I can bear.”
The housekeeper grew alarmed, lest her agitation should retard her departure; she raised her forcibly from the ground, and said, “she must compose herself to begin her journey, which was unavoidable, as the marchioness had given absolute orders to have her sent from the house early in the morning.”
“Accursed house!” said Amanda, whose reason was restored by the strenuous remonstrances of the housekeeper: “Oh, that I had never entered it!” She then told her companion, “if she would assist her, as she was almost too weak to do anything for herself, she would be ready against the carriage came.” The housekeeper and maid accordingly attended her to her chamber; the former brought her drops, and the latter assisted in putting on her habit, and packing up her clothes. Amanda having secured her trunks, desired they might be sent, by the first opportunity, to Castle Carberry; she had left a great many clothes there, so took nothing at present with her but a small quantity of linen. She had but a few guineas in her purse; her watch, however, was valuable; and if she had money enough to carry her to Dublin, she knew there she might procure a sufficient sum on it to carry her home.
At last the carriage came; with a trembling frame, and half-broken heart, Amanda entered it. She saw Nicholas, the footman, who had procured it, ready mounted to attend her. She told him it was unnecessary to do so; but he declared he could not think of letting so young a lady travel unprotected. She was pleased at his attention: she had shuddered at the idea of her forlorn situation, and now dropped a tear of sweet sensibility at finding she was not utterly deserted by every human being. The carriage took the road to Parkgate, as Amanda chose to embark from thence, the journey being so much nearer to it than to Holyhead, It was now about eight o’clock; after travelling four hours, the chaise stopped at a small house on the roadside, which appeared to be a common ale-house. Amanda was unwilling to enter it; but the horses were here to be changed; and she was shown into a dirty parlor, where, almost sinking with weakness, she ordered tea to be immediately brought in. She was much astonished, as she sat at the tea-table, to see Nicholas enter the room with a familiar air, and seat himself by her. She stared at him at first, supposing him intoxicated; but perceiving no signs of this in his countenance, began to fear that the insults she had received at the marquis’s made him think himself authorized to treat her with this insolence. She arose abruptly, and, summoning all her resolution to her aid, desired him to retire, adding, “If his attendance was requisite she would ring for him.”
Nicholas also quitted his seat, and following her, caught her in his arms, exclaiming, “Bless us, how hoity toity you are grown.”
Amanda shrieked, and stamped on the floor in an agony of terror and indignation.
“Why, now really,” said he, “after what happened at home, I think you need not be so coy with me.” “Oh, save me, Heaven, from this wretch!” was all the affrighted Amanda could articulate.
The door opened. A waiter appeared, and told Nicholas he was wanted without. Nicholas released Amanda, and ran directly from the room. Amanda sunk upon a chair, and her head turned giddy at the idea of the dangers with which she was surrounded. She saw herself in the power of a wretch—perhaps wretches, for the house seemed a proper place for scenes of villany—without the means of delivering herself. She walked to the window. A confused idea of getting through it, and running from the house, darted into her mind, but she turned from it in agony at seeing a number of countrymen drinking before it. She now could only raise her feeble hands to heaven to supplicate its protection.