# The Wanderer (Burney)/Volume 3/Chapter 55

CHAPTER LV.
Juliet, who perceived that the windows were still crowded with company, contentedly kept her place; and, taking up the second volume of the Guardian, found, in the lively instruction, the chaste morality, and the exquisite humour of Addison, an enjoyment which no repetition can cloy.
In a short time, to her great discomposure, she was broken in upon by Ireton; who, drawing before the door, which he shut, an easy chair, cast himself indolently upon it, and, stretching out his arms, said, "Ah ha! the fair Ellis! How art thee, my dear?"
Far more offended than surprised by this freedom, Juliet, perceiving that she could not escape, affected to go on with her reading, as if he had not entered the building.
​"Don't be angry, my dear," he continued, "that I did not speak to you before all those people. There's no noticing a pretty girl, in public, without raising such a devil of a clamour, that it's enough to put a man out of countenance. Besides, Mrs. Ireton is such a very particular quiz, that she would be sure to contrive I should never have a peep at you again, if once she suspected the pleasure I take in seeing you. However, I am going to turn a dutiful son, and spend some days here. And, by that means, we can squeeze an opportunity, now and then, of getting a little chat together."
Juliet could no longer refrain from raising her head, with amazement, at this familiar assurance: but he went on, totally disregarding the rebuke of her indignant eye.
"How do you like your place here, my dear? Mrs. Ireton's rather qualmish, I am afraid. I never can bear to stay with her myself; except when I have ​some point to carry. I can't devise what the devil could urge you to come into such a business. And where's Harleigh? What's he about? Gone to old Nick I hope with all my heart! But you,—why are you separated? What's the reason you are not with him?"
Yet more provoked, though determined not to look up again, Juliet fixed her eyes upon the book.
Ireton continued: "What a sly dog he is, that Harleigh! But what the deuce could provoke him to make me cut such a silly figure before Lord Melbury, with my apologies, and all that? He took me in, poz! I thought he'd nothing to do with you. And if you had not had that fainting fit, at the concert; which I suppose you forgot to give him notice of, that put him so off his guard, I should have believed all he vowed and swore, of having no connection with you, and all that, to this very moment."
This was too much. Juliet gravely arose, put down her book, and said, ​with severity, "Mr. Ireton, you will be so good as to let me pass!"
"No, not I! No, not I my dear!" he answered, still lolling at his case. "We must have a little chat together first. 'Tis an age since I have been able to speak with you. I have been confounded discreet, I promise you. I have not told your secret to a soul."
"What secret, Sir?" cried Juliet, hastily.
"Why who you are, and all that."
"If you knew, Sir," recovering her calmness, she replied, "I should not have to defend myself from the insults of a son, while under the protection of his mother!"
"Ha! ha! ha!" cried he. "What a droll piece of dainty delicacy thee art! I'd give a cool hundred, this moment, only to know what the deuce puts it into thy little head, to play this farce such a confounded length of time, before one comes to the catastrophe."
Juliet, with a disdainful gesture, again took her book.
​"Why won't you trust me, my dear? You sha'n't repent it, I promise you. Tell me frankly, now, who are you?—Hay?"
Juliet only turned over a new leaf of her book.
"How can you be so silly, child?—Why won't you let me serve you? You don't know what use I may be of to you. Come, make me your friend! only trust me, and I'll go to the very devil for you with pleasure."
Juliet read on.
"Come, my love, don't be cross! Speak out! Put aside these dainty airs. Surely you a'n't such a little fool, as to think to take me in, as you have done Melbury and Harleigh?"
Juliet felt her cheeks now heated with increased indignation.
"As to Melbury,—'tis a mere schoolboy, ready to swallow any thing; and as to Harleigh, he's such a queer, out of the way genius, that he's like nobody: but as to me, my dear, I'm a man of the ​world. Not so easily played upon, I promise you! I have known you from the very beginning! Found you out at first sight! Only I did not think it worth while telling you so, while you appeared so confounded ugly. But now that I see you are such a pretty creature, I feel quite an interest for you. So tell me who are you? Will you?"
Somewhat piqued, at length, by her resolute silence, "Nay," he added, with affected scorn, "don't imagine I have any view! Don't disturb yourself with any freaks and qualms of that sort. You are a fine girl, to be sure. Devilish handsome, I own; but still too—too—grave,—grim,—What the deuce is the word I mean? for my taste. I like something more buckish. So pray make yourself easy. I shan't interfere with your two sparks. I am perfectly aware I should have but a bad chance. I know I am neither as good a pigeon to pluck as Melbury, nor as marvellous ​a wight to overcome as Harleigh. But I can't for my life make out why you don't take to one or t'other of them, and put yourself at your ease. I'm deadly curious to know what keeps you from coming to a finish. Melbury would be managed the easiest; but I strongly suspect you like Harleigh best. What do you turn your back for? That I mayn't see you blush? Come, come, don't play the baby with a man of the world like me."
To the infinite relief of the disgusted Juliet, she now heard the approach of some foot-step. Ireton, who heard it also, nimbly arose, and, softly moving his chair from the door, cast half his body out of the window, and, lolling upon his elbows, began humming an air, as if totally occupied in regarding the sea.
A footman, who entered, told Juliet his lady desired that she would come to the parlour, to play and sing to the company, while they breakfasted.
​Juliet, colouring at this unqualified order, hesitated what to answer; while Ireton, turning round, and pretending not to have heard what was said, maliciously made the man repeat, "My lady, Sir, bid me tell Miss Ellis, that she must come to play and sing to the company."
"Play and sing?" repeated Ireton. "O the devil! Must we be bored with playing and singing too? But I did not know breakfast was ready, and I am half starved."
He then sauntered from the building; but the moment that the footman was out of sight, turned back, to say, "How devilish provoking to be interrupted in this manner! How can we contrive to meet again, my dear?"
The answer of Juliet was shutting and bolting the door.
His impertinence, however, occupied her mind only while she was under its influence; the insignificance of his character, notwithstanding the malice of ​his temper, made it sink into nothing, to give way to the new rising difficulty, how she might bear to obey, or how risk to refuse, the rude and peremptory summons which she had just received. Ought I, she cried, to submit to treatment so mortifying? Are there no boundaries to the exactions of prudence upon feeling? or, rather, is there not a mental necessity, a call of character, a cry of propriety, that should supersede, occasionally, all prudential considerations, however urgent?—Oh! if those who receive, from the unequal conditions of life, the fruits of the toils of others, could,—only for a few days,—experience, personally, how cruelly those toils are embittered by arrogance, or how sweetly they may be softened by kindness,—the race of the Mrs. Iretons would become rare,—and Lady Aurora Granville might, perhaps, be paralleled!
Yet, with civility, with good manners, had Mrs. Ireton made this request; not issued it as a command by a footman; ​Juliet felt that, in her present dependent condition, however ill she might be disposed for music, or for public exhibition, she ought to yield: and even now, the horrour of having another asylum to seek; the disgrace of seeming driven, thus continually, from house to house; though they could not lessen her repugnance to indelicacy and haughtiness, cooled all ardour of desire for trying yet another change; till she should have raised a sufficient sum for joining Gabriella; and softening, nay delighting, the future toils to which she might be destined, by the society of that cherished friend.
In a few minutes, she was visited by Selina, who, rapturously embracing her, declared that she could not stay away from her any longer; and volubly began her usual babble of news and tales; to all which Juliet gave scarcely the coldest attention; till she had the satisfaction of hearing that the health of Elinor was re-established.
​Selina then owned that she had been sent by Mrs. Ireton, to desire that Miss Ellis would make more haste.
Juliet worded a civil excuse; which Selina, with hands uplifted, from amazement, carried back to the breakfast-room.
Soon afterwards, peals of laughter announced the vicinity of the Miss Crawleys; who merrily called aloud upon Ireton, to come and help them to haul The Ellis, Will ye, nill ye? to the piano-forte, to play and sing.
Happy in this intimation of their purpose, Juliet bolted the door; and would not be prevailed upon to open it, either by their vociferous prayers, or their squalls of disappointment.
But, in another minute, a slight rustling sound drawing her eyes to a window, she saw Ireton preparing to make a forced entry.
She darted, now, to the door, and, finding the passage clear, as the Miss Crawleys had gone softly round, to ​witness the exploit of Ireton, seized the favourable moment for eluding observation; and was nearly arrived at the house, before the besiegers of the cage perceived that the bird was flown.
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