# The Wanderer (Burney)/Volume 5/Chapter 86

BOOK X.
CHAPTER LXXXVI.
Elinor, for a considerable time, remained in the same posture, ruminating, in silent abstraction; yet giving, from time to time, emphatic, though involuntary utterance, to short and incoherent sentences. "A spirit immortal!—" "Resurrection of the Dead!—" "A life to come!—" "Oh Albert! is there, then, a region where I may hope to see thee again!"
Suddenly, at length, seeming to recollect herself, "Pardon," she cried, "Albert, my strangeness,—queerness,—oddity,—what will you call it? I am not the less,—O no! O no! penetrated by your impressive reasoning—Albert!—" ​She lifted up her head, and, looking around, exclaimed, with an air of consternation, "Is he gone?"
She arose, and with more firmness, said, "He is right! I meant not,—and I ought not to see him any more;—though dearer to my eyes is his sight, than life or light!—"
Looking, then, earnestly forwards, as if seeking him, "Farewell, Oh Albert!" she cried: "We now, indeed, are parted for ever! To see thee again, would sink me into the lowest abyss of contempt,—and I would far rather bear thy hatred!—Yet hatred?—from that soul of humanity!—what violence must be put upon its nature! And how cruel to reverse such ineffable philanthropy!—No!—hate me not, my Albert!—It shall be my own care that thou shalt not despise me!"
Slowly she then walked away, followed silently by Juliet, who durst not address her. Anxiously she looked around, till, at some distance, she de​scried a horseman. It was Harleigh. She stopped, deeply moved, and seemed inwardly to bless him. But, when he was no longer in sight, she no longer restrained her anguish, and, casting herself upon the turf, groaned rather than wept, exclaiming, "Must I live—yet behold thee no more!—Will neither sorrow, nor despair, nor even madness kill me?—Must nature, in her decrepitude, alone bring death to Elinor?"
Rising, then, and vainly trying again to descry the horse, "All, all is gone!" she cried, "and I dare not even die!—All, all is gone, from the lost, unhappy Elinor, but life and misery!"
Turning, then, with quickness to Juliet, while pride and shame dried her eyes, "Ellis," she said, "let him not know I murmur!—Let not his last hearing of Elinor be disgrace! Tell him, on the contrary, that his friendship shall not be thrown away; nor his arguments be forgotten, or unavailing: no! I will weigh every opinion, every sentiment ​that has fallen from him, as if every word, unpolluted by human ignorance or infirmity, had dropt straight from heaven! I will meditate upon religion: I will humble myself to court resignation. I will fly hence, to avoid all temptation of ever seeing him more!—and to distract my wretchedness by new scenes. Oh Albert!—I will earn thy esteem by acquiescence in my lot, that here,—even here,—I may taste the paradise of alluring thee to include me in thy view of happiness hereafter!"
Her foreign servant, then, came in view, and she made a motion to him with her hand for her carriage. She awaited it in profound mental absorption, and, when it arrived, placed herself in it without speaking.
Juliet, full of tender pity, could no longer forbear saying, "Adieu, Madam! and may peace re-visit your generous heart!"
Elinor, surprized and softened, looked at her with an expression of involuntary ​admiration, as she answered, "I believe you to be good, Ellis!—I exonerate you from all delusory arts; and, internally, I never thought you guilty,—or I had never feared you! Fool! mad fool, that I have been, I am my own executioner! my distracting impatience to learn the depth of my danger, was what put you together! taught you to know, to appreciate one another! With my own precipitate hand, I have dug the gulph into which I am fallen! Your dignified patience, your noble modesty—Oh fatal Ellis!—presented a contrast that plunged a dagger into all my efforts! Rash, eager ideot! I conceived suspense to be my greatest bane!—Oh fool! eternal fool!—self-willed, and self-destroying!—for the single thrill of one poor moment's returning doubt—I would not suffer martyrdom!"
She wept, and hid her face within the carriage; but, holding out her hand to Juliet, "Adieu, Ellis!" she cried, "I struggle hardly not to wish you any ill; ​and I have never given you my malediction: yet Oh!—that you had never been born!"—
She snatched away her hand, and precipitately drew up all the blinds, to hide her emotion; but, presently, letting one of them down, called out, with resumed vivacity, and an air of gay defiance, "Marry him, Ellis!—marry him at once! I have always felt that I should be less mad, if my honour called upon me for reason!—my honour and my pride!"
The groom demanded orders.
"Drive to the end of the world!" she answered, impatiently, "so you ask me no questions!" and, forcibly adding, "Farewell, too happy Ellis!" she again drew up all the blinds, and, in a minute, was out of sight.
Juliet deplored her fate with the sincerest concern; and ruminated upon her virtues, and attractive qualities, till their drawbacks diminished from her view, and left nothing but unaffected wonder, that Harleigh could resist them: 'twas ​a wonder, nevertheless, that every feeling of her heart, in defiance of every conflict, rose, imperiously, to separate from regret.
At the cottage, she found her recovered property, which she now concluded,—for her recollection was gone,—that she had dropt upon her entrance into the room occupied by Harleigh, before she had perceived that it was not empty.
Here, too, almost immediately afterwards, her messenger returned with a letter, which had remained more than a week at the post-office; whither it had been sent back by the farmer, who had refused to risk advancing the postage.
The letter was from Gabriella, and sad, but full of business. She had just received a hurrying summons from Mr. de * * *, her husband, to join him at Teignmouth, in Devonshire; and, for family-reasons, which ought not to be resisted, to accompany him abroad. Mr. de * * * had been brought by an acci​dental conveyance to Torbay; whence, through a peculiarly favourable opportunity, he was to sail to his place of destination. He charged her to use the utmost expedition; and, to spare the expence of a double journey, and the difficulties of a double passport, for and from London, he should procure permission to meet her at Teignmouth; where they might remain till their vessel should be ready; the town of Brixham, within Torbay, being filled with sailors, and unfit for female residence.
Gabriella owned, that she had nothing substantial, nor even rational, to oppose to this plan; though her heart would be left in the grave, the English grave of her adored child. She had relinquished, therefore, her shop, and paid the rent, and her debts; and obtained money for the journey by the sale of all her commodities. She then tenderly entreated, if no insurmountable obstacles forbid it, that Juliet would be of their party; and gave the direction of Mr. de * * * at Teignmouth.
​Not a moment could Juliet hesitate upon joining her friend; though whether or not she should accompany her abroad, she left for decision at their meeting. She greatly feared the delay in receiving the letter might make her arrive too late; but the experiment was well worth trial; and she reached the beautifully situated small town of Teignmouth the next morning.
She drove to the lodging of which Gabriella had given the direction; where she had the affliction to learn, that the lady whom she described, and her husband, had quitted Teignmouth the preceding evening for Torbay.
She instantly demanded fresh horses, for following them; but the postilion said, that he must return directly to Exeter, with his chaise; and enquired where she would alight. Where she might most speedily, she answered, find means to proceed.
The postilion drove her, then, to a large lodging-house; but the town was ​so full of company, as it was the season for bathing, that there was no chaise immediately ready; and she was obliged to take possession of a room, till some horses returned.
As soon as she had deposited her baggage, she resolved upon walking back to the late lodging of Gabriella, to seek some further information.
In re-passing a gallery, which led from her chamber to the stairs, she perceived, upon a band-box, left at the half-closed door of what appeared to be the capital apartment, the loved name of Lady Aurora Granville.
Joy, hope, fondness, and every pleasurable emotion, danced suddenly in her breast; and, chacing away, by surprize, all fearful caution, irresistibly impelled her to push open the door.
All possibility of concealment was, she knew, now at an end; and, with it, finished her long forbearance. How sweet to cast herself, at length, under so benign a protection! to build upon the ​unalterable sweetness of Lady Aurora for a consolatory reception, and openly to claim her support!
Filled with these delighting ideas, she gently entered the room. It was empty; but, the door to an inner apartment being open, she heard the soft voice of Lady Aurora giving directions to some servant.
While she hesitated whether, at once, to venture on, or to send in some message, a chambermaid, coming out with another band-box, shut the inner door.
The dress of Juliet was no longer such as to make her appearance in a capital apartment suspicious; and the chambermaid civily enquired whom she was pleased to want.
"Lady Aurora Granville," she hesitatingly answered; adding that she would tap at her ladyship's door herself, and begging that the maid would not wait.
The maid, busy and active, hurried off. Quickly, then, though softly, Juliet stept forward; but at the door, ​trembling and full of fears, she stopt short; and the sight of pen, ink, and paper upon a table, determined her to commit her attempt to writing.
Seizing a sheet of paper, without sitting down, and in a hand scarcely legible, she began,
"Is Lady Aurora Granville still the same Lady Aurora, the kind, the benignant, the indulgent Lady Aurora,—" when the sound of another voice, a voice more discordant, if possible, than that of Lady Aurora had been melodious, reached her ear from under the window: it was that of Mrs. Howel.
As shaking now with terrour as before she had been trembling with hope, she rolled up her paper; and was hurrying it into her work-bag, which had been returned to her by Harleigh; when the chambermaid, re-entering the room, stared at her with some surprize, demanding whether she had seen her ladyship.
"No; . . . I believe . . . she is occupied," ​Juliet, stammering, answered; and flew along the gallery back to her chamber.
That Lady Aurora should be under the care of Mrs. Howel, who was the nearest female relation of Lord Denmeath, could give no surprize to Juliet; but the impulse which had urged her forward, had only painted to her a precious interview with Lady Aurora alone; for how venture to reveal herself in presence of so hard, so inimical a witness? The very idea, joined to the terrible apprehension of irritating Lord Denmeath, to aid some new attack from her legal persecutor; so damped her rising joy, so repressed her buoyant hopes, that, to avoid the insupportable repetition of injurious interrogatories, painful explanations, and insulting incredulity, she decided, if she could join Gabriella at Torbay, to accompany her to her purposed retreat; and there to await either intelligence of the Bishop, or an open summons from her own family.
​She hastened, therefore, to the late lodging of Gabriella; where, upon a more minute investigation, she found, that a message had been left, in case a lady should call to enquire for Madame de * * *, to say, that the small vessel in which M. de * * * and herself were humanely to be received as passengers, was ready to sail; and to promise to write upon their landing; and to endeavour to fix upon some means of re-union. The lady, the lodging-people said, had lost all hope of her friend's arrival, but had left that message in case of accidents.
More eagerly than ever, Juliet now enquired for any kind of carriage; but the town was full, and every vehicle was engaged till the next morning.
The next morning opened with a new and cruel disappointment: the chambermaid came with excuses, that no chaise could be had, till towards evening, as the Honourable Mrs. Howel had engaged all the horses, to carry herself and her people to Chudleigh-park.
​Dreadful to the impatience of Juliet was such a loss of time; yet she shrunk from all appeal, upon her prior rights, with Mrs. Howel.
Still, not to render impossible, before her departure, an interview, after which her heart was sighing, with Lady Aurora, she addressed to her a few lines.
"To the Right Honourable Lady Aurora Granville.
"Brought hither in search of the friend of my earlier youth, what have been my perturbation, my hope, my fear, at the sound of the voice of her whom, proudly and fondly, it is my first wish to be permitted to love, and to claim as the friend of my future days! Ah, Lady Aurora! my inmost soul is touched and moved!—nevertheless, not to press upon the difficulties of your delicacy, nor to take advantage of the softness of your sensibility, I go hence without imploring your support or countenance. I quit again this loved land, scarcely known, though de​voutly revered, to watch and wait,—far, far off!—for tidings of my future lot: I go to join the generous guardian of my orphan life,—till I know whether I may hope to be acknowledged by a brother! I go to dwell with my noble adopted sister,—till I learn whether I may be recalled, to be owned by one still nearer,—and who alone can be still dearer!"
She gave this paper sealed, for delivery, to the chambermaid; saying that she was going to take a long walk; and desiring, should there be any answer, that it might carefully be kept for her return.
This measure was to give Lady Aurora time to reflect, whether or not she should demand an explanation of the note; rather than to surprize the first eager impulse of her kindness.
She then bent her steps towards the sea-side; but, though it was still very early, there was so much company upon ​the sands, taking exercise before, or after bathing, that she soon turned another way; and, invited by the verdant freshness of the prospects, rambled on for a considerable time: at first, with no other design than to while away a few hours; but, afterwards, to give to those hours the pleasure ever new, ever instructive, of viewing and studying the works of nature; which, on this charming spot, now awfully noble, now elegantly simple; where the sea and the land, the one sublime in its sameness, the other, exhilarating in its variety, seem to be presented, as if in primeval lustre, to the admiring eye of a meditative being.
She clambered up various rocks, nearly to their summit, to enjoy, in one grand perspective, the stupendous expansion of the ocean, glittering with the brilliant rays of a bright and cloudless sky: dazzled, she descended to their base, to repose her sight upon the soft, yet lively tint of the green turf, and the rich, yet mild hue of the downy ​moss. Almost sinking, now, from the scorching beams of a nearly vertical sun, she looked round for some umbrageous retreat; but, refreshed the next moment, by salubrious sea-breezes, by the coolness of the rocks, or by the shade of the trees, she remained stationary, and charmed; a devoutly adoring spectatress of the lovely, yet magnificent scenery encircling her; so vast in its glory, so impressive in its details, of wild, varied nature, apparently in its original state.
When at length, she judged it to be right to return, upon coming within sight of the lodging-house, she saw a carriage at the door, into which some lady was mounting.
Could it be Lady Aurora?—could she so depart, after reading her letter? She retreated till the carriage drove off; and then, at the foot of the stairs, met the chambermaid; of whom she eagerly asked, whether there were any letter, or message, for her, from Lady Aurora.
​The maid answered No; her ladyship was gone away without saying any thing.
The words "gone away" extremely affected Juliet, who, in ascending to her room, wept bitterly at such a desertion; even while concluding it to have been exacted by Mrs. Howel.
She rang the bell, to enquire whether she might now have a chaise.
The chambermaid told her that she must come that very moment to speak to a lady.
"What lady?" cried Juliet, ever awake to hope; "Is Lady Aurora Granville come back?"
No, no; Lady Aurora was gone to Chudleigh.
"What lady then?"
Mrs. Howel, the maid answered, who ordered her to come that instant.
"'Tis a mistake," said Juliet, with spirit; "you must seek some other person to whom to deliver such a message!"
The maid would have asserted her ​exactitude in executing her commission; but Juliet, declining to hear her, insisted upon being left.
Extremely disturbed, she could suggest no reason why Mrs. Howel should remain, when Lady Aurora was gone; nor divine whether her letter were voluntarily unanswered; or whether it had even been delivered; nor what might still instigate the unrestrained arrogance of Mrs. Howel.
In a few minutes, the chambermaid returned, to acquaint her, that, if she did not come immediately, Mrs. Howel would send for her in another manner.
Too indignant, now, for fear, Juliet, said that she had no answer to give to such a message; and charged the maid not to bring her any other.
Another, nevertheless, and ere she had a moment to breathe, followed; which was still more peremptory, and to which the chambermaid sneeringly added,
"You wonna let me look into youore work-bag, wull y?"
​"Why should you look into my work-bag?"
"Nay, it ben't I as do want it; it be Maddam Howel."
"And for what purpose?"
"Nay, I can't zay; but a do zay a ha' lost a bank-note."
"And what have I, or my work-bag, to do with that?"
"Nay I don't know; but it ben't I ha' ta'en it. And it ben't I ———"
She stopt, grinning significantly; but, finding that Juliet deigned not to ask an explanation, went on: "It ben't I as husselled zomat into my work-bag, in zuch a peck o' troubles, vor to hide it; it ben't I, vor there be no mortal mon, nor womon neither, I be afeared of; vor I do teake no mon's goods but my own."
Juliet now was thunderstruck. If a bank-note were missing, appearances, from her silently entering and quitting the room, were certainly against her; and though it could not be difficult to clear ​away such a suspicion, it was shocking, past endurance, to have such a suspicion to clear.
While she hesitated what to reply, the maid, not doubting but that her embarrassment was guilt, triumphantly continued her own defence; saying, whoever might be suspected, it could not be she, for she did not go into other people's rooms, not she! to peer about, and see what was to be seen; nor say she was going to call upon grand gentlefolks, when she was not going to do any such thing; not she! nor tear paper upon other people's tables, to roll things up, and poke them into her work-bag; not she! she had nothing to hide, for there was nothing she took, so there was nothing she had to be ashamed of, not she!
She then mutteringly walked off; but almost instantly returned, desiring to know, in the name of Mrs. Howel, whether Miss Ellis preferred that the business of her examination should be terminated, before proper witnesses, in her own room.
​Juliet, thus assailed, urged by judgment, and a sense of propriety, struggled against personal feelings and fears; and resolved to rescue not only herself, but her family, from the disgrace of a public interrogatory. She walked, therefore, straight forward to the apartment of Mrs. Howel; determined to own, without delay, her birth and situation, rather than submit to any indignity.
At the entrance, she made way for the chambermaid to announce her; but when she heard that voice, which, to her shocked ears, sounded far more hoarse, more harsh, and more coarse than the raven's croak, her spirits nearly forsook her. To cast herself thus upon the powerful enmity of Lord Denmeath, with no kind Lady Aurora at hand, to soften the hazardous tale, by her benignant pity; no generous Lord Melbury within call, to resist perverse incredulity, by spontaneous support, and promised protection:—'twas dreadful!—Yet no choice now remained, no possible re​source; she must meet her fate, or run away as a culprit.
The latter she utterly disdained; and, at the words, loudly spoken, from the inner room, "Order her to appear!" she summoned to her aid all that she possessed of pride or of dignity, to disguise her apprehensions; and obeyed the imperious mandate.
Mrs. Howel, seated upon an easy chair, received her with an air of prepared scorn; in which, nevertheless, was mixed some surprize at the elegance, yet propriety, of her attire. "Young woman," she sternly said, "what part is this you are acting? And what is it you suppose will be its result? Can you imagine that you are to brave people of condition with impunity? You have again dared to address, clandestinely, and by letter, a young lady of quality, whom you know to be forbidden to afford you any countenance. You have entered my apartment under false pretences; you have been detected precipitately ​quitting it, thrusting something into your work-bag, evidently taken from my table."—
Juliet now felt her speech restored by contempt. "I by no means intended, Madam," she drily answered, "to have intruded upon your benevolence. The sheet of paper which I took was to write to Lady Aurora Granville; and I imagined,—mistakenly, it seems,—that it was already her ladyship's."
The calmness of Juliet operated to produce a storm in Mrs. Howel that fired all her features; though, deeming it unbecoming her rank in life, to shew anger to a person beneath her, she subdued her passion into sarcasm, and said, "Her ladyship, then, it seems, is to provide the paper with which you write to her, as well as the clothes with which you wait upon her? That she refuses herself whatever is not indispensable, in order to make up a secret purse, has long been clear to me; and I now, in your assumed garments, behold the application of her privations!"
​"Oh Lady Aurora! lovely and loved Lady Aurora! have you indeed this kindness for me! this heavenly goodness!"—interrupted, from a sensibility that she would not seek to repress, the penetrated Juliet.
"Unparalleled assurance!" exclaimed Mrs. Howel. "And do you think thus triumphantly to gain your sinister ends? no! Lady Aurora will never see your letter! I have already dispatched it to my Lord Denmeath."
The spirit of Juliet now instantly sunk: she felt herself again betrayed into the power of her persecutor; again seized; and trembled so exceedingly, that she with difficulty kept upon her feet.
Mrs. Howel exultingly perceived her advantage. "What," she haughtily demanded, "has brought you hither? And why are you here? If, indeed, you approach the sea-side with a view to embark, and return whence you came, ​I am far from offering any impediment to so befitting a measure. My Lord Denmeath, I have reason to believe, would even assist it. Speak, young woman! have you sense enough of the unbecoming situation in which you now stand, to take so proper a course for getting to your home?"
"My home!" repeated Juliet, casting up her eyes, which, bedewed with tears at the word, she then covered with her handkerchief.
"If to go thither be your intention," said Mrs. Howel, "the matter may be accommodated; speak, then."
"The little, Madam, that I mean to say," cried Juliet, "I must beg leave to address to you when you are alone." For the waiting-woman still remained at the side of the toilette-table.
"At length, then," said Mrs. Howel, much gratified, though always scornful; "you mean to confess?" And she told her woman to hasten the packing up, and then to step into the next room.
​"Think, however;" she continued; "deliberate, in this interval, upon what you are going to do. I have already heard the tale which I have seen, by your letter, you hint at propagating; heard it from my Lord Denmeath himself. But so idle a fabrication, without a single proof, or document, in its support, will only be considered as despicable. If that, therefore, is the subject upon which you purpose to entertain me in this tête à tête, be advised to change it, untried. Such stale tricks are only to be played upon the inexperienced. You may well blush, young woman! I am willing to hope it is with shame."
"You force me, Madam, to speak!" indignantly cried Juliet; "though you will not, thus publicly, force me to an explanation. For your own sake, Madam, for decency's, if not for humanity's sake, press me no further, till we are alone! or the blush with which you upbraid me, now, may hereafter be yours! And not a blush like mine, from the indigna​tion of innocence injured—yet unsullied; but the blush of confusion and shame; latent, yet irrepressible!"
Rage, now, is a word inadequate to express the violent feelings of Mrs. Howel, which, nevertheless, she still strove to curb under an appearance of disdain. "You would spare me, then," she cried, "this humiliation? And you suppose I can listen to such arrogance? Undeceive yourself, young woman; and produce the contents of your work-bag at once, or expect its immediate seizure for examination, by an officer of justice."
"What, Madam, do you mean?" cried Juliet, endeavouring, but not very successfully, to speak with unconcern.
"To allow you the choice of more, or fewer witnesses to your boasted innocence!"
"If your curiosity, Madam," said Juliet, more calmly, yet not daring any longer to resist, "is excited to take an inventory of my small property, I must endeavour to indulge it."
​She was preparing to untie the strings of her work-bag; when a sudden recollection of the bank-notes of Harleigh, for the possession of which she could give no possible account, checked her hand, and changed her countenance.
Mrs. Howel, perceiving her embarrassment, yet more haughtily said, "Will you deliver your work-bag, young woman, to Rawlins?"
"No, Madam!" answered Juliet, reviving with conscious dignity; "I will neither so far offend myself at this moment,—nor you for every moment that shall follow! I can deliver it only into your own hands."
"Enough!" cried Mrs. Howel. "Rawlins, order Hilson to enquire out the magistrate of this village, and to desire that he will send to me some peace-officer immediately."
She then opened the door of a small inner room, into which she shut herself, with an air of deadly vengeance.
Mrs. Rawlins, at the same time, ​passed to the outer room, to summon Hilson.
Juliet, confounded, remained alone. She looked from one side to the other; expecting either that Mrs. Howel would call upon her, or that Mrs. Rawlins would return for further orders. Neither of them re-appeared, or spoke.
Alarmed, now, yet more powerfully than disgusted, she compelled herself to tap at the door of Mrs. Howel, and to beg admission.
She received no answer. A second and a third attempt failed equally. Affrighted more seriously, she hastened to the outer room; where a man, Hilson, she supposed, was just quitting Mrs. Rawlins.
"Mrs. Rawlins," she cried; "I beseech you not to send any one off, till you have received fresh directions."
Mrs. Rawlins desired to know whether this were the command of her lady.
"It will be," Juliet replied, "when I have spoken to her again."
​Mrs. Rawlins answered, that her lady was always accustomed to be obeyed at once; and told Hilson to make haste.
Juliet entreated for only a moment's delay; but the man would not listen.
Though from justice Juliet could have nothing to fear, the idea of being forced to own herself, when a peace-officer was sent for, to avoid being examined as a criminal, filled her with such horrour and affright, that, calling out, "Stop! stop! I beseech you stop!—" she ran after the man, with a precipitate eagerness, that made her nearly rush into the arms of a gentleman, who, at that moment, having just passed by Hilson, filled up the way.
Without looking at him, she sought to hurry on; but, upon his saying, "I ask pardon, Ma'am, for barricading your passage in this sort;" she recognized the voice of her first patron, the Admiral.
Charmed with the hope of succour, "Is it you, Sir?" she cried. "Oh Sir, ​stop that person!—Call to him! Bid him return! I implore you!—"
"To be sure I will, ma'am!" answered he, courteously taking off his hat, though appearing much amazed; and hallooing after Hilson, "Hark'ee, my lad! be so kind to veer about a bit."
Hilson, not venturing to shew disrespect to the uniform of the Admiral, stood still.
The Admiral then, putting on his hat, and conceiving his business to be done, was passing on; and Hilson grinning at the short-lived impediment, was continuing his route; but the calls and pleadings of Juliet made the Admiral turn back, and, in a tone of authority, and with the voice of a speaking trumpet, angrily cry, "Halloo, there! Tack about and come hither, my lad! What do you go t'other way for, when a lady calls you? By George, if they had you aboard, they'd soon teach you better manners!"
Juliet, again addressing him, said, "Oh ​Sir! how good you are! how truly benevolent!—Detain him but till I speak with his lady, and I shall be obliged to you eternally!"
"To be sure I will, Ma'am!" answered the wondering Admiral. "He sha'n't pass me. You may depend upon that."
Juliet, meaning now to make her sad and forced confession, re-entered the first apartment; and was soliciting, through Mrs. Rawlins, for an audience with Mrs. Howel; when Hilson, surlily returning, preceded the petitioner to his lady; and complained that he had been set upon by a bully of the young woman's.
Mrs. Howel, coming forth, with a wrath that was deaf to prayer or representation, gave orders that the master of the house should be called to account for such an insult to one of her people.
The master of the house appearing, made a thousand excuses for what had happened; but said that he could not be answerable for people's falling to words upon the stairs.
​Mrs. Howel insisted upon reparation; and that those who had affronted her people should be told to go out of the house; or she herself would never enter it again.
The landlord declared that he did not know how to do such a thing, for the gentleman was his honour the Admiral; who was come to spend two or three days there, from the shipping at Torbay.
If it were a general-officer who had acted thus, she said, he could certainly give some reason for his conduct; and she desired the landlord to ask it of him in her name.
In vain, during this debate, Juliet made every concession, save that of delivering her work-bag to the scrutiny of Mrs. Rawlins; nothing less would satisfy the enraged Mrs. Howel, who resisted all overtures for a tête à tête; determined publicly to humble the object of her wrath.
The Admiral, who was found standing ​sentinel at the door, desired an audience of the lady himself.
Mrs. Howel accorded it with readiness; ordering Hilson, Mrs. Rawlins, and the landlord, to remain in the room.
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