At the same time the lady's-maid on the box uttered a dreadful scream. Lady Hatfield drew down the window nearest to her: the chaise that moment came to a full stop; and a stern, but evidently disguised voice exclaimed, "Keep your horses quiet, you damned fools—and don't mind me! If you stir till I give you leave, I'll blow out the brains of both of you." "Robbers!" shrieked Miss Mordaunt in a despairing tone: "Oh! what will become of us?" Lady Hatfield looked from the window; and at the same instant a man, mounted on horseback, with a black mask over his countenance, and a pistol in each hand, was by the side of the vehicle. "Villain!" cried the livery-servant on the box. "But you shall swing for this!" "Perhaps I may," said the highwayman, coolly, though still speaking in a feigned tone, as is the custom with individuals of his profession upon such occasions as the one we are describing: "and if you attempt to move, old fellow, from where you are, an ounce of lead shall tumble you down from your perch. Beg pardon, ma'am," continued the robber, turning towards Lady Hatfield, who had shrunk back into the corner of the carriage the moment the desperado appeared at the window; "sorry to inconvenience you; but—your purse!" Lady Hatfield handed the highwayman her reticule. "Good!" said he, perceiving by its weight and a certain jingling sound which it sent forth, that it contained gold. "But you have a companion, ma'am—_her_ purse!" Miss Mordaunt complied with this demand, and implored the "good gentleman" not to murder her. The highwayman gave no reply; but vouchsafed a most satisfactory proof of his intended forbearance in that respect, by putting spurs to his steed, and darting off like an arrow in the direction of Hounslow. "Cowardly villains that you are!" ejaculated the livery-servant, hurling this reproach against the postboys. "And what are you, old fool?" cried the postillion who rode the wheel-horse. "But he'll be nabbed yet." "Drive on—drive on!" exclaimed Lady Hatfield from the window. "We are all frightened—and not hurt." "Indeed, my dear," said Miss Mordaunt, as the carriage started off rapidly once more, "I am seriously hurt—grievously wounded!" "You, Julia!" cried her ladyship, in unfeigned surprise. "Yes—in pocket," was the answer, implying deep vexation. "All the remainder of my quarter's allowance——" "Oh! compose yourself on that head," interrupted Lady Hatfield. "You shall not be compelled to acquaint Mr. Mordaunt with your loss." This assurance, conveying a promise of pecuniary assistance, materially tended to tranquillise the mind of Miss Mordaunt; but the event which had just occurred—apart from the mere robbery of her reticule—awoke the most painful reflections in the mind of Lady Hatfield.