You must not go, Madam.  Indeed you must not.

By what right?—­And how dare you?—­And such-like imperious airs the dear creature gave herself.—­While Sally called out for her aunt; and half a dozen voiced joined instantly in the cry, for me to hasten down, to hasten down in a moment.

I was gravely instructing Dorcas above stairs, and wondering what would be the subject of the conversation to which the wench was to be a witness, when these outcries reached my ears.  And down I flew.—­And there was the charming creature, the sweet deceiver, panting for breath, her back against the partition, a parcel in her hand, [women make no excursions without their parcels,] Sally, Polly, (but Polly obligingly pleaded for her,) the mother, Mabell, and Peter, (the footman of the house,) about her; all, however, keeping their distance; the mother and Sally between her and the door—­in her soft rage the dear soul repeating, I will go—­nobody has a right—­I will go—­if you kill me, women, I won’t go up again!

As soon as she saw me, she stept a pace or two towards me; Mr. Lovelace, I will go! said she—­do you authorize these women—­what right have they, or you either, to stop me?

Is this, my dear, preparative to the conversation you led me to expect in the dining-room?  And do you thing [sic] I can part with you thus?—­Do you think I will.

And am I, Sir, to be thus beset?—­Surrounded thus?—­What have these women to do with me?

I desired them to leave us, all but Dorcas, who was down as soon as I. I then thought it right to assume an air of resolution, having found my tameness so greatly triumphed over.  And now, my dear, said I, (urging her reluctant feet,) be pleased to walk into the fore-parlour.  Here, since you will not go up stairs, here we may hold our parley; and Dorcas will be witness to it.  And now, Madam, seating her, and sticking my hands in my sides, your pleasure!

Insolent villain! said the furious lady.  And rising, ran to the window, and threw up the sash, [she knew not, I suppose, that there were iron rails before the windows.] And, when she found she could not get out into the street, clasping her uplifted hands together, having dropt her parcel—­For the love of God, good honest man!—­For the love of God, mistress—­[to two passers by,] a poor, a poor creature, said she, ruined! ——­

I clasped her in my arms, people beginning to gather about the window:  and then she cried out Murder! help! help! and carried her up to the dining-room, in spite of her little plotting heart, (as I may now call it,) although she violently struggled, catching hold of the banisters here and there, as she could.  I would have seated her there; but she sunk down half-motionless, pale as ashes.  And a violent burst of tears happily relieved her.

Dorcas wept over her.  The wench was actually moved for her!

Violent hysterics succeeded.  I left her to Mabell, Dorcas, and Polly; the latter the most supportable to her of the sisterhood.