Courtship -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction
He now leaned upon the shoulder of his friend, and returned with painful
and irregular steps. His disorder was so great, that sir William thought
it best to have him immediately conveyed to a chamber. He was so much
exhausted, that this was easily accomplished, without his being perfectly
sensible what was done. The baronet, with three servants mounted on
horseback, immediately pursued the road towards London.--Having thus
related the confusion and grief that were occasioned by her sudden
disappearance, we will now return to our heroine.
She had advanced, according to the intention she had hinted to her
servant, towards the grove, where she had so often wandered with her
beloved. She was wrapped up and lost in the contemplation of her
approaching felicity. "And is every difficulty surmounted, and shall at
last my fate be twined with Damon's? Sure, it is too much, it cannot be!
Fate does not deal so partially with mortals. To bestow so vast a
happiness on one, while thousands pine in helpless misery. But let me not
be incredulous. Let me not be ungrateful. No, since heaven has thus
accumulated its favours on me, my future days shall all be spent in
raising the oppressed, and cheering the disconsolate. I will remember that
I also have tasted the cup of woe, that I have looked forward to
disappointment and despair. _Taught by the hand that pities me,_ I
will learn to pity others."
She was thus musing with herself, she was thus full of piety and virtuous
resolution, when, on a sudden, a trampling of horses behind her, roused
her from her reverie. Two persons advanced. But before she had time to
examine their features, or even to remove out of the path, by which they
seemed to be coming, the foremost of them leaping hastily upon the ground,
seized her by the waist, arid, in spite of all her struggling, placed her
on the front of the saddle, and instantly mounted with the utmost agility.
Cries and tears were vain. They were in a solitary path, little beaten by
the careful husbandman, or the gay votaries of fashion. She was now
hurried along, and generally at full speed, through a thousand bye paths,
that seemed capable of puzzling the most assiduous pursuit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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