The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 4 of 5)Burney, Fanny
History
The Wanderer; or, Female Difficulties (Volume 4 of 5)
Burney, Fanny
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Refugees -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Refugees -- Fiction; War stories
They searched, for some time, in different directions; two of them then
approached so nearly to the spot upon which she was standing, saying, to
each other, that they were sure the sound came from that quarter, that
she almost fainted with excess of terrour. But they soon turned off
another way; one of them averring that the noise was only from some
windfall; and the hut-man replying, in a coarse bass voice, that, if any
body were watching, 'twas well they had come no sooner; for he'd defy
the sharpest eye living to give a guess, now, at what they had been
about.
In this terrible interval, the door of the habitation, of which she had
already had a glimpse, was opened by a female; who, depositing a candle
upon the threshold, ran up to one of the men, with whom she conversed
for a few minutes; after which, saying 'Good night!' she re-entered the
house; while the men, all three repeating 'Good night!' trudged away,
and were soon out of hearing.
Juliet now conceived a hope, that a female, left, probably, alone,
might, either through kindness or through interest, be made a friend.
She disengaged herself, therefore, from her impediments, and gently
tapped at the door.
It was immediately opened by the woman, who said, 'Why now, dear me,
what have a forgot?' but who no sooner saw a stranger, than she screamed
aloud, 'La be good unto me! what been ye come for here, at such an
untoward time o'night as this be?' while some children who were in bed,
and suddenly awakened, jumping upon the ground, clang round their
mother, and began crying piteously.
Juliet, more affrighted than themselves, uttered the softest petition,
for a few hours' refuge from the dreariness of travelling by night. The
woman, then, casting up her hands in wonder, exclaimed, 'Good la! be you
only no other but the good gentlewoman that was so koind to my little
dearies?'
The children, recollecting her at the same moment, loosened their mother
to throw their little arms around their guest; skipping and rejoicing,
and crying, 'O dood ady! dood ady! it's dood ady!'
This, indeed, was a moment of joy to Juliet, such as life, even at its
best periods, can but rarely afford. From fears the most horrible of
unknown dangers; and from fatigue nearly insupportable, she found
herself suddenly welcomed by trusting kindness. All her dread and
scruples, with respect to the Salisbury turnpike hostess, or to any
previous reports, were, she now saw, groundless; and she delightedly
felt herself in the bosom of security, while encircled in the arms of
affectionate and unsuspicious innocence.
The good woman uncovered her hot embers, and put on some fresh wood, to
restore the weary traveller from the chill of the night: and brought out
of her cupboard a slice of bacon, and the end of a brown loaf of bread:
not mingling, with the warmth of her genuine hospitality, one
mistrustful enquiry into the reason of her guest's late wandering, or
the cause of her lonely difficulties.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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