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ment into Bellarmine, the unexpected presence of Bellarmine no less surprised Horatio. At length Leonora, collecting all the spirit she was mistress of, addressed herself to the latter, and pretended to wonder at the reason of so late a visit. "I should, indeed," answered he, "have made some apology for disturbing you at this hour, had not my finding you in company assured me I do not break in upon your repose." Bellarmine rose from his chair, traversed the room in a minuet step, and hummed an opera tune, while Horatio, advancing to Leonora, asked her in a whisper, if that gentleman was not a relation of hers; to which she answered with a smile, or rather sneer, No, he is not a relation of mine yet;" adding, "she could not guess the meaning of his question." Horatio told her softly," it did not arise from jealousy." "Jealousy! I assure you, it would be very strange in a common acquaintance to give himself any of those airs." These words a little surprised Horatio; but before he had time to answer, Bellarmine danced up to the lady, and told her, "he feared he interrupted some business betwixt her and the gentleman." "I can have no business," said she, "with the gentleman, nor any other, which need be any secret to you."

"You'll pardon me," said Horatio, "if I desire to know who this gentleman is, who is to be intrusted with all our secrets." "You'll know soon enough," cries Leonora ; "but I can't guess what secrets can ever pass between us of such mighty consequence." "No, Madam!" cries Horatio, "I'm sure you would not have me understand you in earnest."""Tis indifferent to me," says she, "how you understand me; but I think so unseasonable a visit is difficult to be understood at all; at least when people find one engaged, though one's servants do not deny one, one may expect a well-bred person should soon take the hint." "Madam," said Horatio, "I did not imagine any engagement with a stranger, as it seems this gentleman is, would have made my visit impertinent, or that any such ceremonies were to be preserved between persons in our situation." "Sure you are in a dream," said she, " or would persuade me that I am in one. I know no pretensions a common acquaintance can have to lay aside the ceremonies of good breeding." "Sure," said he, "I am in a dream; for it is impossible I should be really esteemed a common acquaintance by Leonora, after what has passed between us!" "Passed between us! Do you intend to affront me before this gentleman "D-n me, affront the lady," says Bellarmine, cocking his hat, and strutting up to Horatio, "Does any man dare affront this lady before me, d-n me?" "Hearkee, sir," says Horatio, "I would advise you to lay aside that fierce air; for I am mightily deceived if this lady has not a violent desire to get your worship a good drubbing." "Sir," said Bellarmine, "I have the honour to be her

protector, and d-n me, if I understand your meaning." "Sir," answered Horatio," she is rather your protectress: but give yourself no more airs, for you see I am prepared for you," (shaking his whip at him.) "Oh! Serviteur tres humble," says Bellarmine," je vous entend parfaitment bien." At which time the aunt, who had heard of Horatio's visit, entered the room, and soon satisfied all his doubts. She convinced him that he was never more awake in his life, and that nothing more extraordinary had happened in his three days absence than a small alteration in the affections of Leonora ; who now burst into tears, and wondered what reason she had given him to use her in so barbarous a manner. Horatio desired Bellarmine to withdraw with him; but the ladies prevented it by laying violent hands on the latter; upon which the former took his leave without any great ceremony, and departed, leaving the lady with his rival to consult for his safety, which Leonora feared his indiscretion might have endangered: but the aunt comforted her with assurances, that Horatio would not venture his person against so accomplished a cavalier as Bellarmine; and that, being a lawyer, he would seek revenge in his own way, and the most they had to apprehend from him was an action.

They at length therefore agreed to permit Bellarmine to retire to his lodgings, having first settled all matters relating to the journey which he was to undertake in the morning, and their preparation for the nuptials at his return.

But, alas! as wise men have observed, the seat of valour is not the countenance; and many a grave and plain man, will, on just provocation, betake himself to that mischievous metal, cold iron, while men of fiercer brow, and sometimes with that emblem of courage, a cockade, will more prudently decline it.

Leonora was waked in the morning, from a visionary coach and six, with the dismal account, that Bellarmine was run through the body by Horatio; that he lay languishing at an inn, and the surgeons had declared the wound mortal. She immediately leaped out of the bed, danced about the room in a frantic manner, tore her hair, and beat her breast in all the agonies of despair; in which sad condition her aunt, who likewise arose at the news, found her. The good old lady applied her utmost art to comfort her niece. She told her, "while there was life there was hope; but that if he should die, her affliction would be of no service to Bellarmine, and would only expose herself, which might probably keep her some time without any future offer; that as matters had happened, her wisest way would be to think no more of Bellarmine, but to endeavour to regain the affections of Horatio." " Speak not to me," cried the disconsolate Leonora ; " is it not owing to me that poor Bellarmine has lost his life? have not these cursed charms (at which words she looked sted

fastly in the glass) been the ruin of the most charming man of this age? Can I ever bear to contemplate my own face again?" (with her eyes still fixed on the glass ;) Am not I the murderer of the finest gentleman? No other woman in the town could have made any impression on him." "Never think of things past," cries the aunt, "think of regaining the affections of Horatio." "What reason," said the niece, "have I to hope he would forgive me? No, I have lost him as well as the other, and it was your wicked advice which was the occasion of all; you seduced me, contrary to my inclinations, to abandon poor Horatio;" (at which words she burst into tears ;)" you prevailed upon me, whether I would or no, to give up my affections for him; had it not been for you, Bellarmine never would have entered into my thoughts; had not his addresses been backed by your persuasions, they never would have made any impression on me; I should have defied all the fortune and equipage in the world; but it was you, it was you who got the better of my youth and simplicity, and forced me to lose my dear Horatio for ever!" The aunt was almost borne down with this torrent of words; she however rallied all the strength she could, and drawing her mouth up in a purse, began: "I am not surprised, niece, at this ingratitude. Those who advise young women, for their interest, must always expect such a return; I am convinced my brother will thank me for breaking off your match with Horatio at any rate."That may not be in your power yet," answered Leonora; "though it is very ungrateful in you to desire or attempt it, after the presents you have received from him." (For indeed true it is, that many presents, and some pretty valuable ones, had passed from Horatio to the old lady; but as true it is, that Bellarmine, when he breakfasted with her and her niece, had complimented her with a brilliant from his finger, of much greater value than all she had touched of the other.)

The aunt's gall was on float to reply, when a servant brought a letter into the room; which Leonora, hearing it came from Bellarmine, with great eagerness opened, and read as follows:

"Most divine Creature,

"THE wound which I fear you have heard I received from my rival, is not like to be so fatal as those shot into my heart, which have been fired from your eyes, tout-brilliant. Those are the only cannons by which I am to fall: for my surgeon gives me hopes of being soon able to attend your ruelle; till when, unless you would do me an honour, which I have scarce the hardiesse to think of, your absence will be the greatest anguish can be felt by,

"Madam,

"Avec toute le respecte in the world, "Your most obedient, most absolute "Devoté,

"BELLARMINE."

As soon as Leonora perceived such hopes of Bellarmine's recovery, and that the gossip Fame had, according to custom, so enlarged his danger, she presently abandoned all further thoughts of Horatio, and was soon reconciled to her aunt, who received her again into favour, with a more Christian forgiveness than we generally meet with. Indeed, it is possible she might be a little alarmed at the hints which her niece had given her concerning the presents. She might apprehend such rumours, should they get abroad, might injure a reputation which, by frequenting church twice a-day, and preserving the utmost rigour and strictness in her countenance and behaviour for many years, she had established.

Leonora's passion returned now for Bellarmine with greater force, after its small relaxation, than ever. She proposed to her aunt to make him a visit in his confinement, which the old lady, with great and commendable prudence, advised her to decline: "For," says she, "should any accident intervene to prevent your intended match, too forward a behaviour with this lover may injure you in the eyes of others. Every woman, till she is married, ought to consider of and provide against the possibility of the affair's breaking off." Leonora said, "She should be indifferent to whatever might happen in such a case; for she had now so absolutely placed her affections on this dear man, (so she called him,) that, if it was her misfortune to lose him, she should for ever abandon all thoughts of mankind." She therefore resolved to visit him, notwithstanding all the prudent advice of her aunt to the contrary, and that very afternoon executed her resolution.

The lady was proceeding in her story, when the coach drove into the inn where the company were to dine, sorely to the dissatisfaction of Mr Adams, whose ears were the most hungry part about him; he being, as the reader may perhaps guess, of an insatiable curiosity, and heartily desirous of hearing the end of this amour, though he professed he could scarce wish success to a lady of so inconstant a disposition.

CHAP. V.

A dreadful quarrel which happened at the inn where the company dined; with its bloody consequences to Mr Adams.

As soon as the passengers had alighted from the coach, Mr Adams, as was his custom, made directly to the kitchen, where he found Joseph sitting by the fire, and the hostess anointing his leg: for the horse which Mr Adams had borrowed of his clerk, had so violent a propensity to kneeling, that one would have thought it had been his trade as well as his master's; nor would he always give any notice of such his intention he was often found on his knees when the rider least expected it. This foible, how

ever, was of no great inconvenience to the parson, who was accustomed to it; and as his legs almost touched the ground when he bestrode the beast, had but a little way to fall, and threw himself forwards on such occasions with so much dexterity, that he never received any mischief; the horse and he frequently rolling many paces distance, and afterwards both getting up and meeting as good friends as ever. Poor Joseph, who had not been used to such kind of cattle, though an excellent horseman, did not so happily disengage himself; but falling with his leg under the beast, received a violent contusion, to which the good woman was, as we have said, applying a warm hand, with some camphorated spirits, just at the time when the parson entered the kitchen.

He had scarce expressed his concern for Joseph's misfortune, before the host likewise entered. He was by no means of Mr Tow-wouse's gentle disposition, and was indeed perfect master of his house, and every thing in it but his guests.

This surly fellow, who always proportioned his respect to the appearance of a traveller, from God bless your honour, down to plain coming presently, observing his wife on her knees to a footman, cried out, without considering his circumstances, "What a pox is the woman about? why don't you mind the company in the coach? Go and ask them what they will have for dinner." "My dear," says she," you know they can have nothing but what is at the fire, which will be ready presently; and really the poor young man's leg is very much bruised." At which words, she fell to chafing more violently than before the bell then happening to ring, he damn'd his wife, and bid her go into the company, and not stand rubbing there all day; for he did not believe the young fellow's leg was so bad as he pretended; and if it was, within twenty miles he would find a surgeon to cut it off. Upon these words Adams fetched two strides across the room; and snapping his fingers over his head, muttered aloud, he would excommunicate such a wretch for a farthing; for he believed the devil had more humanity. These words occasioned a dialogue between Adams and the host, in which there were two or three sharp replies, till Joseph bade the latter know how to behave himself to his betters. At which the host (having first strictly surveyed Adams,) scornfully repeating the word betters, flew into a rage, and telling Joseph he was as able to walk out of his house as he had been to walk into it, offered to lay violent hands on him; which Adams perceiving, dealt him so sound a compliment over his face with his fist, that the blood immediately gushed out of his nose in a stream. The host being unwilling to be outdone in courtesy, especially by a person of Adams's figure, returned the favour with so much gratitude, that the parson's nostrils began to look a little redder than usual. Upon which

he again assailed his antagonist, and with ancther stroke laid him sprawling on the floor. The hostess, who was a better wife than so surly a husband deserved, seeing her husband all bloody and stretched along, hastened presently to his assistance, or rather to revenge the blow, which, to all appearance, was the last he would ever receive; when lo! a pan full of hog's blood, which unluckily stood on the dresser, presented itself first to her hands. She seized it in her fury, and, without any reflection, discharged it into the parson's face, and with so good an aim, that much the greater part first saluted his countenance, and trickled thence in so large a current down to his beard, and over his garments, that a more horrible spectacle was hardly to be seen, or even imagined. All which was perceived by Mrs Slipslop, who entered the kitchen at that instant. This good gentlewoman, not being of a temper so extremely cool and patient as perhaps was required to ask many questions on this occasion, flew with great impetuosity at the hostess's cap, which, together with some of her hair, she plucked from her head in a moment, giving her at the same time several hearty cuffs in the face, which, by frequent practice on the inferior servants, she had learned an excellent knack of delivering with a good grace. Poor Joseph could hardly rise from his chair; the parson was employed in wiping the blood from his eyes, which had entirely blinded him, and the landlord was but just beginning to stir, whilst Mrs Slipslop, holding down the landlady's face with her left hand, made so dexterous an use of her right, that the poor woman began to roar in a key which alarmed all the company in the inn.

There happened to be in the inn at this time, besides the ladies who arrived in the stagecoach, the two gentlemen who were present at Mr Tow-wouse's when Joseph was detained for his horse's meat, and whom we have before mentioned to have stopped at the ale-house with Adams. There was likewise a gentleman just returned from his travels to Italy; all whom the horrid outcry of murder presently brought into the kitchen, where the several combatants were found in the posture already described.

It was now no difficulty to put an end to the fray, the conquerors being satisfied with the vengeance they had taken, and the conquered having no appetite to renew the fight. The principal figure, and which engaged the eyes of all, was Adams, who was all over covered with blood, which the whole company concluded to be his own; and consequently imagined him no longer for this world: but the host, who had now recovered from his blow, and was risen from the ground, soon delivered them from this apprehension, by damning his wife for wasting the hog's puddings, and telling her, "All would have been very well, if she had not intermeddled like a b— as she was;" adding, "He was very

glad the gentlewoman had paid her, though not half what she had deserved." The poor woman had indeed fared much the worst, having, besides the unmerciful cuffs received, lost a quantity of hair, which Mrs Slipslop in triumph held in her left hand.

The traveller, addressing himself to Mrs Graveairs, desired her not to be frightened; for here had been only a little boxing, which, he said, to their disgracia the English were accustomata to: adding, it must be, however, a sight somewhat strange to him, who was just come from Italy, the Italians not being addicted to the cuffardo, but bastonza, says he. He then went up to Adams, and telling him, he looked like the ghost of Othello, bid him not shake his gory locks at him, for he could not say he did it. Adams very innocently answered, "Sir, I am far from accusing you." He then returned to the lady, and cried, "I find the bloody gentleman is uno insipido del nullo senso. Dammatandi me, if I have seen such a spectaculo in my way from Viterbo."

One of the gentlemen, having learned from the host the occasion of this bustle, and being assured by him that Adams had struck the first blow, whispered in his ear, he'd warrant he would recover. "Recover! master," said the host smiling: "Yes, yes, I am not afraid of dying with a blow or two neither; I am not such a chicken as that." "Pugh!" said the gentleman, "I mean you will recover damages in that action which undoubtedly you intend to bring, as soon as a writ can be returned from London; for you look like a man of too much spirit and courage to suffer any one to beat you without bringing your action against him: he must be a scandalous fellow indeed, who would put up a drubbing, whilst the law is open to revenge it; besides, he hath drawn blood from you, and spoiled your coat; and the jury will give damages for that too. An excellent new coat, upon my word, and now not worth a shilling!"

"I don't care," continued he, " to intermeddle in these cases; but you have a right to my evidence; and if I am sworn, I must speak the truth. I saw you sprawling on the floor, and the blood gushing from your nostrils. You may take your own opinion; but was I in your circumstances, every drop of my blood should convey an ounce of gold into my pocket: remember, I don't advise you to go to law; but if your jury were Christians, they must give swinging damages. That's all." " Master," cried the host, scratching his head, "I have no stomach to law, I thank you. I have seen enough of that in the parish, where two of my neighbours have been at law about a house, till they have both lawed themselves into a gaol." At which words, he turned about, and began to inquire again after his hog's puddings; nor would it probably have been a sufficient excuse for his wife, that she

spilt them in his defence, had not some awe of the company, especially of the Italian traveller, who was a person of great dignity, withheld his rage. Whilst one of the above-mentioned gentlemen was employed, as we have seen him, on the behalf of the landlord, the other was no less hearty on the side of Mr Adams, whom he advised to bring his action immediately. He said the assault of the wife was in law the assault of the husband; for they were but one person; and he was liable to pay damages, which he said must be considerable, where so bloody a disposition appeared. Adams answered, if it was true that they were but one person, he had assaulted the wife; for he was sorry to own he had struck the husband the first blow. "I am sorry you own it too," cries the gentleman; "for it could not possibly appear to the court: for here was no evidence present, but the lame man in the chair, whom I suppose to be your friend, and would consequently say nothing but what made for you.” "How, sir," says Adams, "do you take me for a villain, who would prosecute revenge in cold blood, and use unjustifiable means to obtain it? If you knew me and my order, I should think you affronted both." At the word order, the gentleman stared, (for he was too bloody to be of any modern order of knights,) and turning hastily about, said, "Every man knew his own business."

Matters being now composed, the company retired to their several apartments, the two gentlemen congratulating each other on the success of their good offices, in procuring a perfect reconciliation between the contending parties; and the traveller went to his repast, crying, "As the Italian poet says,

"Je voi very well, que tuta e pace,
So send up dinner, good Boniface."

The coachman began now to grow importunate with his passengers, whose entrance into the coach was retarded by Miss Graveairs insisting, against the remonstrance of all the rest, that she would not admit a footman into the coach; for poor Joseph was too lame to mount a horse. A young lady, who was, as it seems, an earl's grand-daughter, begged it with almost tears in her eyes. Mr Adams prayed, and Mrs Slipslop scolded, but all to no purpose. She said, "She would not demean herself to ride with a footman: that there were waggons on the road: that if the master of the coach desired it, she would pay for two places: but would suffer no such fellow to come in." "Madam," says Slipslop, "I am sure no one can refuse another coming into a stage-coach." "I don't know, madam," says the lady, "I am not much used to stage-coaches, I seldom travel in them." "That may be, madam," replied Slipslop, "very good people do, and some people's betters, for aught I know." Miss Graveairs said,

"Some

folks might sometimes give their tongues a liberty, to some people that were their betters, which did not become them: for her part, she was not used to converse with servants." Slipslop returned, "Some people kept no servants to converse with for her part, she thanked heaven she lived in a family where there were a great many; and had more under her own command, than any paltry little gentlewoman in the kingdom." Miss Graveairs cried, "She believed her mistress would not encourage such sauciness to her betters." "My betters," says Slipslop, "who is my betters, pray?” "I am your betters," answered Miss Graveairs, "and I'll acquaint your mistress." At which Mrs Slipslop laughed aloud, and told her, "Her lady was one of the great gentry, and such little paltry gentlewomen, as some folks who travelled in stage-coaches, would not easily come at her."

This smart dialogue between some people and some folks, was going on at the coach-door, when a solemn person riding into the inn, and seeing Miss Graveairs, immediately accosted her with, "Dear child, how do you?" She presently answered, "O! papa, I am glad you have overtaken me." "So am I," answered he; "for one of our coaches is just at hand; and there being room for you in it, you shall go no farther in the stage, unless you desire it." "How can you imagine I should desire it?" says she; so bidding Slipslop ride with her fellow, if she pleased, she took her father by the hand, who was just alighted, and walked with him into a room.

Adams instantly asked the coachman in a whisper, if he knew who the gentleman was? The coachman answered, "He was now a gentleman, and kept his horse and man: but times are altered, master," said he; "I remember when he was no better born than myself." "Ay! ay "" said Adams. "My father drove the squire's coach," answered he, "when that very man rode postilion but he is now his steward, and a great gentleman." Adams then snapped his fingers, and cried, He thought she was some such trollop."

:

Adams made haste to acquaint Mrs Slipslop with this good news, as he imagined it; but it found a reception different from what he expected. The prudent gentlewoman, who despised the anger of Miss Graveairs, whilst she conceived her the daughter of a gentleman of small fortune, now she heard her alliance with the upper servants of a great family in her neighbourhood, began to fear her interest with the mistress. She wished she had not carried the dispute so far, and began to think of endeavouring to reconcile herself to the young lady before she left the inn; when luckily the scene at London, which the reader can scarce have forgotten, presented itself to her mind, and comforted her with such assurance, that she no longer apprehended any enemy with her mis

tress.

Every thing being now adjusted, the company entered the coach, which was just on its departure, when one lady recollected she had left her fan, a second her gloves, a third a snuff-box, and a fourth a smelling-bottle behind her; to find all which, occasioned some delay, and much swearing to the coachman.

As soon as the coach had left the inn, the women all together fell to the character of Miss Graveairs, whom one of them declared, she had suspected to be some low creature, from the beginning of their journey; and another affirmed, had not even the looks of a gentlewoman; a third warranted, she was no better than she should be; and turning to the lady who had related the story in the coach, said, "Did you ever hear, madam, any thing so prudish as her remarks? Well, deliver me from the censoriousness of such a prude!" The fourth added, "O, madam! all these creatures are censorious: but for my part, I wonder where the wretch was bred. Indeed I must own, I have seldom conversed with these mean kind of people; so that it may appear stranger to me; but to refuse the general desire of a whole company, had something in it so astonishing, that, for my part, I own I should hardly believe it, if my own ears had not been witnesses to it." "Yes, and so handsome a young fellow," cries Slipslop: "the woman must have no compulsion in her; I believe she is more of a Turk than a Christian; I am certain, if she had any Christian woman's blood in her veins, the sight of such a young fellow must have warmed it. Indeed there are some wretched miserable old objects, that turn one's stomach; I should not wonder if she had refused such a one; I am as nice as herself, and should have cared no more than herself for the company of stinking old fellows: but, hold up thy head, Joseph, thou art none of those; and she who hath not compulsion for thee is a Myhummetman, and I will maintain it." This conversation made Joseph uneasy, as well as the ladies; who, perceiving the spirits which Mrs Slipslop was in, (for indeed she was not a cup too low,) began to fear the consequence; one of them therefore desired the lady to conclude the story.-" Ay, madam," said Slipslop, "I beg your ladyship to give us that story you commensated in the morning." Which request that well-bred woman immediately complied with.

CHAP. VI.

Conclusion of the Unfortunate Jilt.

LEONORA having once broke through the bounds which custom and modesty impose on her sex, soon gave an unbridled indulgence to her passion. Her visits to Bellarmine were more constant, as well as longer, than his surgeon's: in a word, she became absolutely his nurse, made

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