Come, my dear, said the pretended lady, give me your hand; holding out her’s. Oblige me this once.
I will bless your footsteps, said the old creature, if once more you honour my house with your presence.
A crowd by this time was gathered about us; but I was too much affected to mind that.
Again the pretended Miss Montague urged me; standing up as ready to go out if I would give her room.—Lord, my dear, said she, who can bear this crowd?—What will people think?
The pretended Lady again pressed me, with both her hands held out—Only, my dear, to give orders about your things.
And thus pressed, and gazed at, (for then I looked about me,) the women so richly dressed, people whispering; in an evil moment, out stepped I, trembling, forced to lean with both my hands (frighted too much for ceremony) on the pretended Lady Betty’s arm—Oh! that I had dropped down dead upon the guilty threshold!
We shall stay but a few minutes, my dear!—but a few minutes! said the same specious jilt—out of breath with her joy, as I have since thought, that they had thus triumphed over the unhappy victim!
Come, Mrs. Sinclair, I think your name is, show us the way——following her, and leading me. I am very thirsty. You have frighted me, my dear, with your strange fears. I must have tea made, if it can be done in a moment. We have farther to go, Mrs. Sinclair, and must return to Hampstead this night.
It shall be ready in a moment, cried the wretch. We have water boiling.
Hasten, then—Come, my dear, to me, as she led me through the passage to the fatal inner house—lean upon me—how you tremble!—how you falter in your steps!—Dearest niece Lovelace, [the old wretch being in hearing,] why these hurries upon your spirits?—We’ll be gone in a minute.