You won’t be carried there, Madam, cried thy fellow.

Only to my house, Madam, said one of the officers.

Where is that?

In High-Holborn, Madam.

I know not where High-Holborn is:  but any where, except to the woman’s. ——­But am I to go with men only?

Looking about her, and seeing the three passages, to wit, that leading to Henrietta-street, that to King-street, and the fore-right one, to Bedford-street, crowded, she started—­Any where—­any where, said she, but to the woman’s!  And stepping into the chair, threw herself on the seat, in the utmost distress and confusion—­Carry me, carry me out of sight—­ cover me—­cover me up—­for ever—­were her words.

Thy villain drew the curtain:  she had not power:  and they went away with her through a vast crowd of people.

Here I must rest.  I can write no more at present.

Only, Lovelace, remember, all this was to a Clarissa.

***

The unhappy lady fainted away when she was taken out of the chair at the officer’s house.

Several people followed the chair to the very house, which is in a wretched court.  Sally was there; and satisfied some of the inquirers, that the young gentlewoman would be exceedingly well used:  and they soon dispersed.

Dorcas was also there; but came not in her sight.  Sally, as a favour, offered to carry her to her former lodgings:  but she declared they should carry her thither a corpse, if they did.

Very gentle usage the women boast of:  so would a vulture, could it speak, with the entrails of its prey upon its rapacious talons.  Of this you’ll judge from what I have to recite.

She asked, what was meant by this usage of her?  People told me, said she, that I must go with the men:  that they had authority to take me:  so I submitted.  But now, what is to be the end of this disgraceful violence?

The end, said the vile Sally Martin, is, for honest people to come at their own.

Bless me! have I taken away any thing that belongs to those who have obtained the power over me?—­I have left very valuable things behind me; but have taken away that is not my own.

And who do you think, Miss Harlowe; for I understand, said the cursed creature, you are not married; who do you think is to pay for your board and your lodgings! such handsome lodgings! for so long a time as you were at Mrs. Sinclair’s?

Lord have mercy upon me!—­Miss Martin, (I think you are Miss Martin!)—­ And is this the cause of such a disgraceful insult upon me in the open streets?

And cause enough, Miss Harlowe! (fond of gratifying her jealous revenge, by calling her Miss,)—­One hundred and fifty guineas, or pounds, is no small sum to lose—­and by a young creature who would have bilked her lodgings.

You amaze me, Miss Martin!—­What language do you talk in?—­Bilk my lodgings?—­What is that?