I am sorry, very sorry, said she, Miss, to be the messenger: but your papa will not have you in the same house with him: he is resolved you shall be carried away to-morrow, or Saturday at farthest. And therefore your pen and ink are taken away, that you may give nobody notice of it.
And away went the dear girl, very sorrowful, carrying down with her my standish, and all its furniture, and a little parcel of pens beside, which having been seen when the great search was made, she was bid to ask for.
As it happened, I had not diminished it, having hid half a dozen crow quills in as many different places. It was lucky; for I doubt not they had numbered how many were in the parcel.
Betty ran on, telling me, that my mother was now as much incensed against me as any body—that my doom was fixed—that my violent behaviour had not left one to plead for me—that Mr. Solmes bit his lip, and muttered, and seemed to have more in his head, than could come out at his mouth; that was her phrase.
And yet she also hinted to me, that the cruel wretch took pleasure in seeing me; although so much to my disgust—and so wanted to see me again.—Must he not be a savage, my dear?
The wench went on—that my uncle Harlowe said, That now he gave me up—that he pitied Mr. Solmes—yet hoped he would not think of this to my detriment hereafter: that my uncle Antony was of opinion, that I ought to smart for it: and, for her part—and then, as one of the family, she gave her opinion of the same side.
As I have no other way of hearing any thing that is said or intended below, I bear sometimes more patiently than I otherwise should do with her impertinence. And indeed she seems to be in all my brother's and sister's counsels.
Miss Hervey came up again, and demanded an half-pint ink-bottle which they had seen in my closet.
I gave it her without hesitation.
If they have no suspicion of my being able to write, they will perhaps let me stay longer than otherwise they would.