He stept out; but shut the coach-door after him, to oblige me.

The coach may go on, Madam, said I.

The coach shall go on, my dear life, said he.—­But he gave not, nor intended to give, orders that it should.

Let the coach go on! said I—­Mr. Lovelace may come after us.

Indeed, my dear, you are ill!—­Indeed you must alight—­alight but for one quarter of an hour.—­Alight but to give orders yourself about your things.  Whom can you be afraid of in my company, and my niece’s; these people must have behaved shockingly to you!  Please the Lord, I’ll inquire into it!—­I’ll see what sort of people they are!

Immediately came the old creature to the door.  A thousand pardons, dear Madam, stepping to the coach-side, if we have any way offended you—­Be pleased, Ladies, [to the other two] to alight.

Well, my dear, whispered the Lady Betty, I now find that an hideous description of a person we never saw is an advantage to them.  I thought the woman was a monster—­but, really, she seems tolerable.

I was afraid I should have fallen into fits:  but still refused to go out —­Man!—­Man!—­Man!—­cried I, gaspingly, my head out of the coach and in, by turns, half a dozen times running, drive on!—­Let us go!

My heart misgave me beyond the power of my own accounting for it; for still I did not suspect these women.  But the antipathy I had taken to the vile house, and to find myself so near it, when I expected no such matter, with the sight of the old creature, all together made me behave like a distracted person.

The hartshorn and water was brought.  The pretended Lady Betty made me drink it.  Heaven knows if there was any thing else in it!

Besides, said she, whisperingly, I must see what sort of creatures the nieces are.  Want of delicacy cannot be hid from me.  You could not surely, my dear, have this aversion to re-enter a house, for a few minutes, in our company, in which you lodged and boarded several weeks, unless these women could be so presumptuously vile, as my nephew ought not to know.

Out stept the pretended lady; the servant, at her command, having opened the door.

Dearest Madam, said the other to me, let me follow you, [for I was next the door.] Fear nothing:  I will not stir from your presence.

Come, my dear, said the pretended lady, give me your hand; holding out her’s.  Oblige me this once.

I will bless your footsteps, said the old creature, if once more you honour my house with your presence.

A crowd by this time was gathered about us; but I was too much affected to mind that.

Again the pretended Miss Montague urged me; standing up as ready to go out if I would give her room.—­Lord, my dear, said she, who can bear this crowd?—­What will people think?

The pretended Lady again pressed me, with both her hands held out—­Only, my dear, to give orders about your things.