One of the fogs that in autumn gather sullenly over London and its suburbs covered the declining day with premature dimness. It grew darker and darker as she proceeded, but she reached the house in safety. She spent a quarter of an hour in timidly consulting her friend about all kinds of letters except the identical one that she intended to write, and having had it strongly impressed on her mind that if the letter was to a gentleman at all genteel, she ought to begin "Dear Sir," and end with "I have the honour to remain;" and that he would be everlastingly offended if she did not in the address affix "Esquire" to his name (_that_, was a great discovery),--she carried off the precious volume, and quitted the house. There was a wall that, bounding the demesnes of the school, ran for some short distance into the main street. The increasing fog, here, faintly struggled against the glimmer of a single lamp at some little distance. Just in this spot, her eye was caught by a dark object in the road, which she could scarcely perceive to be a carriage, when her hand was seized, and a voice said in her ear:-- "Ah! you will not be so cruel to me, I hope, as you were to my messenger! I have come myself for you." She turned in great alarm, but the darkness prevented her recognising the face of him who thus accosted her. "Let me go!" she cried,--"let me go!" "Hush! hush! No--no. Come with me. You shall have a house--carriage-- servants! You shall wear silk gowns and jewels! You shall be a great lady!" As these various temptations succeeded in rapid course each new struggle of Fanny, a voice from the coach-box said in a low tone,-- "Take care, my lord, I see somebody coming--perhaps a policeman!" Fanny heard the caution, and screamed for rescue. "Is it so?" muttered the molester. And suddenly Fanny felt her voice checked--her head mantled--her light form lifted from the ground. She clung--she struggled it was in vain. It was the affair of a moment: she felt herself borne into the carriage--the door closed--the stranger was by her side, and his voice said:-- "Drive on, Dykeman. Fast! fast!" Two or three minutes, which seemed to her terror as ages, elapsed, when the gag and the mantle were gently removed, and the same voice (she still could not see her companion) said in a very mild tone:-- "Do not alarm yourself; there is no cause,--indeed there is not. I would not have adopted this plan had there been any other--any gentler one. But I could not call at your own house--I knew no other where to meet you. "This was the only course left to me--indeed it was. I made myself acquainted with your movements. Do not blame me, then, for prying into your footsteps. I watched for you all last night-you did not come out. I was in despair. At last I find you. Do not be so terrified: I will not even touch your hand if you do not wish it."