And thus she led the poor sacrifice into the old wretch’s too-well-known parlour.
Never was any body so gentle, so meek, so low voiced, as the odious woman; drawling out, in a puling accent, all the obliging things she could say: awed, I then thought, by the conscious dignity of a woman of quality; glittering with jewels.
The called-for tea was ready presently.
There was no Mr. Belton, I believe: for the wretch went not to any body, unless it were while we were parlying in the coach. No such person however, appeared at the tea-table.
I was made to drink two dishes, with milk, complaisantly urged by the pretended ladies helping me each to one. I was stupid to their hands; and, when I took the tea, almost choked with vapours; and could hardly swallow.
I thought, transiently thought, that the tea, the last dish particularly, had an odd taste. They, on my palating it, observed, that the milk was London-milk; far short in goodness of what they were accustomed to from their own dairies.
I have no doubt that my two dishes, and perhaps my hartshorn, were prepared for me; in which case it was more proper for their purpose, that they should help me, than that I should help myself. Ill before, I found myself still more and more disordered in my head; a heavy torpid pain increasing fast upon me. But I imputed it to my terror.
Nevertheless, at the pretended Lady’s motion, I went up stairs, attended by Dorcas; who affected to weep for joy, that she once more saw my blessed face; that was the vile creature’s word: and immediately I set about taking out some of my clothes, ordering what should be put up, and what sent after me.
While I was thus employed, up came the pretended Lady Betty, in a hurrying way——My dear, you won’t be long before you are ready. My nephew is very busy in writing answers to his letters: so, I’ll just whip away, and change my dress, and call upon you in an instant.
O Madam!—I am ready! I am now ready!—You must not leave me here. And down I sunk, affrighted, into a chair.