* The Lady, in her minutes, owns the difficulty she lay under to keep her temper in this conference.  ‘But when I found,’ says she, ’that all my entreaties were ineffectual, and that he was resolved to detain me, I could no longer withhold my impatience.’

At last she broke silence—­I have no patience, said she, to find myself a slave, a prisoner, in a vile house—­Tell me, Sir, in so many words tell me, whether it be, or be not, your intention to permit me to quit it?—­To permit me the freedom which is my birthright as an English subject?

Will not the consequence of your departure hence be that I shall lose you for ever, Madam?—­And can I bear the thoughts of that?

She flung from me—­My soul disdains to hold parley with thee! were her violent words.—­But I threw myself at her feet, and took hold of her reluctant hand, and began to imprecate, avow, to promise—­But thus the passionate beauty, interrupting me, went on: 

I am sick of thee, man!—­One continued string of vows, oaths, and protestations, varied only by time and place, fills thy mouth!—­Why detainest thou me?  My heart rises against thee, O thou cruel implement of my brother’s causeless vengeance.—­All I beg of thee is, that thou wilt remit me the future part of my father’s dreadful curse! the temporary part, base and ungrateful as thou art! thou hast completed!

I was speechless!—­Well I might!—­Her brother’s implement!—­James Harlowe’s implement!—­Zounds, Jack! what words were these!

I let go her struggling hand.  She took two or three turns cross the room, her whole haughty soul in her air.  Then approaching me, but in silence, turning from me, and again to me, in a milder voice—­I see thy confusion, Lovelace.  Or is it thy remorse?—­I have but one request to make thee—­the request so often repeated—­That thou wilt this moment permit me to quit this house.  Adieu, then, let me say, for ever adieu!  And mayest thou enjoy that happiness in this world, which thou hast robbed me of; as thou hast of every friend I have in it!

And saying this, away she flung, leaving me in a confusion so great, that I knew not what to think, say, or do!

But Dorcas soon roused me—­Do you know, Sir, running in hastily, that my lady is gone down stairs!

No, sure!—­And down I flew, and found her once more at the street-door, contending with Polly Horton to get out.

She rushed by me into the fore parlour, and flew to the window, and attempted once more to throw up the sash—­Good people! good people! cried she.

I caught her in my arms, and lifted her from the window.  But being afraid of hurting the charming creature, (charming in her very rage,) she slid through my arms on the floor.—­Let me die here! let me die here! were her words; remaining jointless and immovable, till Sally and Mrs. Sinclair hurried in.

She was visibly terrified at the sight of the old wretch; while I (sincerely affected) appealed, Bear witness, Mrs. Sinclair!—­bear witness, Miss Martin!—­Miss Horton!—­Every one bear witness, that I offer not violence to this beloved creature!