Part 64

r at the parlour window of an inn, where we had lodged, a person passed a horseback, whom (gracious Heaven!) I instantly discovered to be Wilson! He wore a white riding-coat, with the cape buttoned up to his chin; looking remarkably pale, and passed at a round trot, without seeming to observe us--Indeed, he could not see us; for there was a blind that concealed us from the view. You may guess how I was affected at this apparition. The light forsook my eyes; and I was seized with such a palpitation and trembling, that I could not stand. I sat down upon a couch, and strove to compose myself, that my brother might not perceive my agitation; but it was impossible to escape his prying eyes--He had observed the object that alarmed me; and, doubtless, knew him at the first glance--He now looked at me with a stern countenance; then he ran out into the street, to see what road the unfortunate horseman had taken--He afterwards dispatched his man for further intelligence, and seemed to meditate some violent design. My uncle, being out of order, we remained another night at the inn; and all day long Jery acted the part of an indefatigable spy upon my conduct--He watched my very looks with such eagerness of attention, as if he would have penetrated into the utmost recesses of my heart--This may be owing to his regard for my honour, if it is not the effect of his own pride; but he is so hot, and violent, and unrelenting, that the sight of him alone throws me into a flutter; and really it will not be in my power to afford him any share of my affection, if he persists in persecuting me at this rate. I am afraid he has formed some scheme of vengeance, which will make me completely wretched! I am afraid he suspects some collusion from this appearance of Wilson.--Good God! did he really appear? or was it only a phantom, a pale spectre to apprise me of his death. O Letty, what shall I do?--where shall I turn for advice and consolation? shall I implore the protection of my uncle, who has been always kind and compassionate.--This must be my last resource.--I dread the thoughts of making him uneasy; and would rather suffer a thousand deaths than live the cause of dissension in the family.--I cannot conceive the meaning of Wilson’s coming hither:--perhaps, it was in quest of us, in order to disclose his real name and situation:--but wherefore pass without staying to make the least enquiry?--My dear Willis, I am lost in conjecture. I have not closed an eye since I saw him.--All night long have I been tossed about from one imagination to another. The reflection finds no resting place.--I have prayed, and sighed, and wept plentifully.--If this terrible suspence continues much longer, I shall have another fit of illness, and then the whole family will be in confusion--If it was consistent with the wise purposes of Providence, would I were in my grave--But it is my duty to be resigned.--My dearest Letty, excuse my weakness--excuse these blots--my tears fall so fast that I cannot keep the paper dry--yet I ought to consider that I have as yet no cause to despair but I am such a faint-hearted timorous creature! Thank God, my uncle is much better than he was yesterday. He is resolved to pursue our journey strait to Wales.--I hope we shall take Gloucester in our way--that hope chears my poor heart I shall once more embrace my best beloved Willis, and pour all my griefs into her friendly bosom.--0 heaven! is it possible that such happiness is reserved for The dejected and forlorn LYDIA MELFORD Oct. 4. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR WATKIN, I yesterday met with an incident which I believe you will own to be very surprising--As I stood with Liddy at the window of the inn where we had lodged, who should pass by but Wilson a-horse back!--I could not be mistaken in the person, for I had a full view of him as he advanced; I plainly perceived by my sister’s confusion that she recognized him at the same time. I was equally astonished and incensed at his appearance, which I could not but interpret into an insult, or something worse. I ran out at the gate, and, seeing him turn the corner of the street, I dispatched my servant to observe his motions, but the fellow was too late to bring me that satisfaction. He told me, however, that there was an inn, called the Red Lion, at that end of the town, where he supposed the horseman had alighted, but that he would not enquire without further orders. I sent him back immediately to know what strangers were in the house, and he returned with a report that there was one Mr Wilson lately arrived. In consequence of this information I charged him with a note directed to that gentleman, desiring him to meet me in half an hour in a certain field at the town’s end, with a case of pistols, in order to decide the difference which could not be determined at our last rencounter: but I did not think proper to subscribe the billet. My man assured me he had delivered it into his own hand; and, that having read it, he declared he would wait upon the gentleman at the place and time appointed. M’Alpine being an old soldier, and luckily sober at the time, I entrusted him with my secret. I ordered him to be within call, and, having given him a letter to be delivered to my uncle in case of accident, I repaired to the rendezvous, which was an inclosed field at a little distance from the highway. I found my antagonist had already taken his ground, wrapped in a dark horseman’s coat, with a laced hat flapped over his eyes; but what was my astonishment, when, throwing off this wrapper, he appeared to be a person whom I had never seen before! He had one pistol stuck in a leather belt, and another in his hand ready for action, and, advancing a few steps, called to know if I was ready--I answered, ‘No,’ and desired a parley; upon which he turned the muzzle of his piece towards the earth; then replaced it in his belt, and met me half way--When I assured him he was not the man I expected to meet, he said it might be so: that he had received a slip of paper directed to Mr Wilson, requesting him to come hither; and that as there was no other in the place of that name, he naturally concluded the note was intended for him, and him only--I then gave him to understand, that I had been injured by a person who assumed that name, which person I had actually seen within the hour, passing through the street on horseback; that hearing there was a Mr Wilson at the Red Lion, I took it for granted he was the man, and in that belief had writ the billet; and I expressed my surprize, that he, who was a stranger to me and my concerns, should give me such a rendezvous, without taking the trouble to demand a previous explanation. He replied, that there was no other of his name in the whole country; that no such horseman had alighted at the Red Lion since nine o’clock, when he arrived--that having had the honour to serve his majesty, he thought he could not decently decline any invitation of this kind, from what quarter soever it might come, and that if any explanation was necessary, it did not belong to him to demand it, but to the gentleman who summoned him into the field. Vexed as I was at this adventure, I could not help admiring the coolness of this officer, whose open countenance prepossessed me in his favour. He seemed to be turned of forty; wore his own short black hair, which curled naturally about his ears, and was very plain in his apparel--When I begged pardon for the trouble I had given him, he received my apology with great good humour.--He told me that he lived about ten miles off, at a small farm-house, which would afford me tolerable lodging, if I would come and take diversion of hunting with him for a few weeks; in which case we might, perhaps, find out the man who had given me offence--I thanked him very sincerely for his courteous offer, which, I told him, I was not at liberty to accept at present, on account of my being engaged in a family party; and so we parted, with mutual professions of good will and esteem. Now tell me, dear knight, what am I to make of this singular adventure? Am I to suppose that the horseman I saw was really a thing of flesh and blood, or a bubble that vanished into air?--or must I imagine Liddy knows more of the matter than she chuses to disclose?--If I thought her capable of carrying on any clandestine correspondence with such a fellow, I should at once discard all tenderness, and forget that she was connected with me by the ties of blood--But how is it possible that a girl of her simplicity and inexperience, should maintain such an intercourse, surrounded, as she is, with so many eyes, destitute of all opportunity, and shifting quarters every day of her life!--Besides, she has solemnly promised. No--I can’t think the girl so base--so insensible to the honour of her family.--What disturbs me chiefly, is the impression which these occurrences seem to make upon her spirits--These are the symptoms from which I conclude that the rascal has still a hold on her affection, surely I have a right to call him a rascal, and to conclude that his designs are infamous. But it shall be my fault if he does not one day repent his presumption--I confess I cannot think, much less write on this subject, with any degree of temper or patience; I shall therefore conclude with telling you, that we hope to be in Wales by the latter end of the month: but before that period you will probably hear again from your affectionate J. MELFORD Oct. 4. To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon. DEAR PHILLIPS, When I wrote you by last post, I did not imagine I should be tempted to trouble you again so soon: but I now sit down with a heart so full that it cannot contain itself; though I am under such agitation of spirits, that you are to expect neither method nor connexion in this address--We have been this day within a hair’s breadth of losing honest Matthew Bramble, in consequence of a cursed accident, which I will endeavour to explain.--In crossing the country to get into the post road, it was necessary to ford a river, and we that were a-horseback passed without any danger or difficulty; but a great quantity of rain having fallen last night and this morning, there was such an accumulation of water, that a mill-head gave way, just as the coach was passing under it, and the flood rushed down with such impetuosity, as first floated, and then fairly overturned the carriage in the middle of the stream--Lismahago and I, and the two servants, alighting instantaneously, ran into the river to give all the assistance in our power.--Our aunt, Mrs Tabitha, who had the good fortune to be uppermost, was already half way out of the coach window, when her lover approaching, disengaged her entirely; but, whether his foot slipt, or the burthen was too great, they fell over head and ears in each others’ arms. He endeavoured more than once to get up, and even to disentangle himself from her embrace, but she hung about his neck like a mill-stone (no bad emblem of matrimony), and if my man had not proved a stanch auxiliary, those two lovers would in all probability have gone hand in hand to the shades below--For my part, I was too much engaged to take any cognizance of their distress.--I snatched out my sister by the hair of the head, and, dragging her to the bank, recollected that my uncle had, not yet appeared--Rushing again into the stream, I met Clinker hauling ashore Mrs Jenkins, who looked like a mermaid with her hair dishevelled about her ears; but, when I asked if his master was safe, he forthwith shook her from him, and she must have gone to pot, if a miller had not seasonably come to her relief.--As for Humphry, he flew like lightning, to the coach, that was by this time filled