My worthy friend, Mrs. Bevis, thought one sermon a day, well observed, enough; so staid at home to bear me company.
The lady and Mrs. Moore had not been gone a quarter of an hour, when a young country-fellow on horseback came to the door, and inquired for Mrs. Harriot Lucas. The widow and I (undetermined how we were to entertain each other) were in the parlour next the door; and hearing the fellow’s inquiry, O my dear Mrs. Bevis, said I, I am undone, undone for ever, if you don’t help me out!—Since here, in all probability, is a messenger from that implacable Miss Howe with a letter; which, if delivered to Mrs. Lovelace, may undo all we have been doing.
What, said she, would you have me do?
Call the maid in this moment, that I may give her her lesson; and if it be as I imagined, I’ll tell you what you shall do.
Wid. Margaret!—Margaret! come in this minute.
Lovel. What answer, Mrs. Margaret, did you give the man, upon his asking for Mrs. Harriot Lucas?
Peggy. I only asked, What was his business, and who he came from? (for, Sir, your honour’s servant had told me how things stood): and I came at your call, Madam, before he answered me.
Lovel. Well, child, if ever you wish to be happy in wedlock yourself, and would have people disappointed who want to make mischief between you and your husband, get out of him his message, or letter if he has one, and bring it to me, and say nothing to Mrs. Lovelace, when she comes in; and here is a guinea for you.
Peggy. I will do all I can to serve your honour’s worship for nothing: [nevertheless, with a ready hand, taking the guinea:] for Mr. William tells me what a good gentleman you be.
Away went Peggy to the fellow at the door.