LETTER XLVI
TO ROBERT LOVELACE, ESQ. WEDN. JUNE 28, NEAR TWELVE O’CLOCK.
HONOURED SIR,
I received your’s, as your servant desired me to acquaint you, by ten this morning. Horse and man were in a foam.
I instantly equipped myself, as if come off from a journey, and posted away to the lady, intending to plead great affairs that I came not before, in order to favour your antedate; and likewise to be in a hurry, to have a pretence to hurry her ladyship, and to take no denial for her giving a satisfactory return to your messenger. But, upon my entering Mrs. Sinclair’s house, I found all in the greatest consternation.
You must not, Sir, be surprised. It is a trouble to me to be the relater of the bad news; but so it is—The lady is gone off! She was missed but half an hour before I came.
Her waiting-maid is run away, or hitherto is not to be found: so that they conclude it was by her connivance.
They had sent, before I came, to my honoured masters Mr. Belton, Mr. Mowbray, and Mr. Belford. Mr. Tourville is out of town.
High words are passing between Madam Sinclair, and Madam Horton, and Madam Martin; as also with Dorcas. And your servant William threatens to hang or drown himself.
They have sent to know if they can hear of Mabell, the waiting-maid, at her mother’s, who it seems lives in Chick-lane, West-Smithfield; and to an uncle of her’s also, who keeps an alehouse at Cow-cross, had by, and with whom she lived last.