Her father, with a loud Ha, ha, ha! proposed that Mr Spinney should appear as a ghost by the bedside of Mrs Forster, wrapped up in a sheet, with a He, he, he! and that thus the diversion should end; but this project was overruled by Mr Spinney, who protested that nothing should induce him again to trust himself, with a He, he, he! in the presence of Mrs Forster.

Ramsden, although well acquainted with Dr Beddington, who had charge of the asylum, was not sure that he would be pleased with their freak, and earnestly dissuaded his intended from proceeding any further.

“It is useless to argue, my dear George, I am Quixote enough to revenge the injuries of those who have been forced to submit to her temper; and moreover, I hope to effect a cure.  Desperate diseases, you must be aware as a medical man, require desperate remedies.  I consider that a termagant and a lunatic are during their paroxysms on a par, as rational behaviour in either party may be considered as a lucid interval.  Let her, if it be only for one hour, witness herself reflected in the various distorted mirrors of perverted mind; and if she has any conscience whatever, good will spring from evil.  I joined this plot from a love of mischief; but I carry it on from a feeling that favourable results will be produced.”

“But, my dear Fanny—­”

“I will have it so, Ramsden, so don’t attempt to dissuade me; we are not married yet, and I must not be thwarted in my short supremacy.  Surely you ought not to be displeased at my desire to ‘tame a shrew.’  I give a fair promise not to fall into an error which I so ardently detest:  now, send for the chaise, write a letter to Dr Beddington, and leave me to arrange with Mrs Forster.”

Ramsden, like many others when teased by a pretty woman, consented against his will; he wrote a letter to Dr Beddington, explaining circumstances, and requesting his pardon for the liberty which he had been persuaded to take.

Miss Dragwell, as soon as the letter was sealed, put on her bonnet, and taking Mr Ramsden’s servant with her, stepped into the chaise, and drove to the house of Mr Nicholas Forster.  She found Mrs Forster squatted on the bed in her ludicrous attire, awaiting her return with impatience.

“Oh!  Mrs Forster, I have had such trouble, such difficulty; but Mr Ramsden has been persuaded at last.  There is the letter to Dr Beddington, and Mr Ramsden’s servant is in the chaise at the door:  the sooner you are off the better; the people are so outrageous, and call you such shocking names.”

“Do they?” replied Mrs Forster, whose wrath kindled at the information.

“Yes, indeed; and that wretch Betsy declares that she’ll put the rope over your neck with her own hands.”

“Does she?” cried Mrs Forster, her eyes twinkling with rage.

“Yes; and your husband, your foolish husband, says that he’ll be able to make his improvement in the duplex, now that you’ll be hanged.”