She would have spoken, but could not, looking down my guilt into confusion.  A mouse might have been heard passing over the floor:  her own light feet and rustling silks could not have prevented it; for she seemed to tread air, and to be all soul.  She passed backwards and forwards, now towards me, now towards the door several times, before speech could get the better of indignation; and at last, after twice or thrice hemming to recover her articulate voice—­’O thou contemptible and abandoned Lovelace, thinkest thou that I see not through this poor villanous plot of thine, and of these thy wicked accomplices?

’Thou, woman, [looking at the mother] once my terror! always my dislike! but now my detestation! shouldst once more (for thine perhaps was the preparation) have provided for me intoxicating potions, to rob me of my senses——­

’And then, thus, wretch, [turning to me,] mightest thou more securely have depended upon such a low contrivance as this!

’And ye, vile women, who perhaps have been the ruin, body and soul, of hundreds of innocents, (you show me how, in full assembly,) know, that I am not married—­ruined as I am, by your help, I bless God, I am not married to this miscreant—­and I have friends that will demand my honour at your hands!—­and to whose authority I will apply; for none has this man over me.  Look to it then, what farther insults you offer me, or incite him to offer me.  I am a person, though thus vilely betrayed, of rank and fortune.  I never will be his; and, to your utter ruin, will find friends to pursue you:  and now I have this full proof of your detestable wickedness, and have heard your base incitements, will have no mercy upon you!’

They could not laugh at the poor figure I made.—­Lord! how every devil, conscience-shaken, trembled!—­

What a dejection must ever fall to the lot of guilt, were it given to innocence always thus to exert itself!

’And as for thee, thou vile Dorcas!  Thou double deceiver!—­whining out thy pretended love for me!—­Begone, wretch!—­Nobody will hurt thee!—­ Begone, I say!—­thou has too well acted thy part to be blamed by any here but myself—­thou art safe:  thy guilt is thy security in such a house as this!—­thy shameful, thy poor part, thou hast as well acted as the low farce could give thee to act!—­as well as they each of them (thy superiors, though not thy betters), thou seest, can act theirs.—­Steal away into darkness!  No inquiry after this will be made, whose the first advances, thine or mine.’

And, as I hope to live, the wench, confoundedly frightened, slunk away; so did her sentinel Mabell; though I, endeavouring to rally, cried out for Dorcas to stay—­but I believe the devil could not have stopt her, when an angel bid her begone.

Madam, said I, let me tell you; and was advancing towards her with a fierce aspect, most cursedly vexed, and ashamed too——­

But she turned to me:  ’Stop where thou art, O vilest and most abandoned of men!—­Stop where thou art!—­nor, with that determined face, offer to touch me, if thou wouldst not that I should be a corps at thy feet!’