Juliet was making enquiries of the young work-women, for a recommendation to some small lodging, when she was surprised by the receipt of a letter from Mrs Pierson, soliciting her company immediately at Lewes; where poor Flora, she said, was taken dangerously ill of a high fever, and was raving, continually, for Miss Ellis. A return post-chaise to the postilion of which Mrs Pierson had given directions to call at Mrs Hart’s, at three o’clock in the afternoon, would bring her, for nearly nothing; if she would have so much charity as to come and comfort the poor girl; and Mrs Pierson would find a safe conveyance back at night, if Miss Ellis could not oblige them by sleeping at the house: but she hoped that Mrs Hart would not refuse to spare her from her work, for a few hours, as it might produce a favourable turn in the disorder.

Juliet read this letter with real concern. Had she rescued the poor, weak, and wilful Flora from immediate moral, only to devote her to immediate physical, destruction? And what now could be devised for her relief? Her intellects were too feeble for reason, her temper was too petulant for entreaty. Nevertheless, the benevolent are easily urged to exertion; and Juliet would not refuse the summons of the distressed mother, while she could flatter herself that any possible means might be suggested for serving the self-willed, and half-witted, but innocent daughter.

She set out, therefore, upon this plan, far from sanguine of success, but persuaded that the effort was a duty.

By her own calculations from memory, she was arrived within about a mile of Lewes, when the horses suddenly turned down a narrow lane.

She demanded of the postilion why he did not proceed straight forward. He answered, that he knew a short cut to the house of Mrs Pierson. Uneasy, nevertheless, at quitting thus alone the high road, she begged him to go the common way, promising to reward him for the additional time which it might require. But he drove on without replying; though, growing now alarmed, she called, supplicated, and menaced in turn.

She looked from window to window to seek some object to whom she might apply for aid; none appeared, save a man on horseback, whom she had already noticed from time to time, near the side of the chaise; and to whom she was beginning to appeal, when she surprised him making signs to hurry on the postilion.

She now believed the postilion himself to be leagued with some highwayman; and was filled with affright and dismay.

The horses galloped on with encreased swiftness, the horseman always keeping closely behind the chaise; till they were stopt by a small cart, from which Juliet had the joy to see two men alight, forced, by the narrowness of the road, to take off their horse, and drag back their vehicle.

She eagerly solicited their assistance, and made an effort to open the chaise door. This, however, was prevented by the pursuing horseman, who, dismounting, opened it himself; and, to her inexpressible terrour, sprung into the carriage.

What, then, was her mingled consternation and astonishment, when, instead of demanding her purse, he gaily exclaimed, ‘Why are you frightened, you beautiful little creature?’ And she saw Sir Lyell Sycamore.

A change, but not a diminution of alarm, now took place; yet, assuming a firmness that sought to conceal her fears, ‘Quit the chaise, Sir Lyell,’ she cried, ‘instantly, or you will compel me to claim protection from those two men!’

‘Protection? you pretty little vixen!’ cried he, yet more familiarly, ‘who should protect you like your own adorer?’

Juliet, leaning out, as far as was in her power, from the chaise-window, called with energy for help.

‘What do you mean?’ cried he, striving to draw her back. ‘What are you afraid of? You don’t imagine me such a blundering cavalier, as to intend to carry you off by force?’

The postilion was assisting the two men to fix their horse, for dragging back their cart; but her cries reached their ears, and one of them, advancing to the chaise, exclaimed, ‘Good now! if it is not Miss Ellis!’ And, to her infinite relief and comfort, she beheld young Gooch.

She entreated him to open the door; but, lolling his arms over it, without attending to her, he said, ‘Well! to see but how things turn out! Here have I been twice this very morning, at your new lodgings, to let you know it’s now or never, for our junket’s to night; and the old gentlewoman that keeps the house, who’s none of the good-naturedest, as I take it, would never let me get a sight of you, say what I would; and here, all of the sudden, when I was thinking of you no more than if you had never been born, I come pop upon you, as one may say, within cock-crow of our very door; all alone, with only the young Baronight!’

Nearly as much shocked, now, as, the moment before, she had been relieved, Juliet eagerly declared, that she was not with any body; she was simply going to Lewes upon business.

‘Why then,’ cried he, ‘the Baronight must be out his head, begging his pardon, to let you come this way; and the postilion as stupid as a post; for it’s quite the contrary. It will lead you to you don’t know where. We only turned down it ourselves, just to borrow a few glasses, of farmer Barnes, because we’ve more mouths than we have got of our own: for I’ve invited all our club; which poor dad don’t much like. He says I am but a bungler at saving money, any more than at getting it; but I am as rare a hand as any you know, far or near, says the old gentleman, for spending it. The old gentleman likes to say his say. However, I must not leave my horse to his gambols.’

Then nodding, still without listening to Juliet, he returned to his chay-cart.

Juliet now unhasped the chaise-door herself, and was springing from the carriage; when Sir Lyell, forcibly holding her, exclaimed, ‘What would you do, you lovely termagant? Would you make me pass for a devil of a ravisher? No, no, no! you handsome little firebrand! name your terms, and command me! I know you love me,—and I adore you. Why then this idle cruelty to us both? to nature itself; and to beauty?’

More and more indignant, Juliet uttered a cry for help, that immediately brought back young Gooch, who was followed by an elderly companion.

Provoked and resentful, yet amazed and ashamed, the Baronet jumped out of the chaise, saying, with affected contempt, yet stronger pique, ‘Yes! help, gentlemen, help! come quick! quick! Miss Ellis is taken suddenly ill!’

The insolent boldness of this appeal, was felt only by Juliet; whose scorn, however potent, was less prevalent than her satisfaction, upon beholding her old friend Mr Tedman. She descended to meet him, with an energetic ‘Thank Heaven!’ and an excess of gladness, not more tormenting to the Baronet, than unexpected by himself. ‘Well, this is very kind of you, indeed, my dear,’ cried he, heartily shaking hands with her; ‘to be so glad to see me; especially after the ungenteel way I was served in by your lodging-gentlewoman, making no more ceremony than refusing to let me up, under cover that you saw no gentlemen; though I told her what a good friend I had been to you; and how you learnt my darter the musics; and how I used to bring you things; and lend you money; and that; and how I was willing enough to do the like again, put in case you was in need: but I might just as well have talked to the post; which huffed me a little, I own.’

‘O, those old gentlewomen,’ interrupted Gooch, ‘are always like that. One can never make any thing of ’em. I don’t over like them myself, to tell you the truth.’

Juliet assured them that, having no time but for business, her injunctions of non-admission had been uniform and universal; and ought not, therefore, to offend any one. She then requested Mr Tedman to order that the postilion would return to the high road; which he had quitted against her positive direction; and to have the goodness to insist upon his driving her by the side of his own vehicle, till they reached Lewes.

Tedman, looking equally important and elated, again heartily shook hands with her, and said, ‘My dear, I’ll do it with pleasure; or, I’ll engage Tim to send off your chay, and I’ll take you in his’n; put in case it will be more to your liking; for I am as little agreeable as you are, to letting them rascals of drivers get the better of me.’

Juliet acceded to this proposal, in which she saw immediate safety, with the most lively readiness; entreating Mr Tedman to complete his kindness, in extricating her from so suspicious a person, by paying him the half-crown, which she had promised him, for carrying her to Lewes.

‘Half-a-crown?’ repeated Mr Tedman, angrily refusing to take it. ‘It’s too much by half, for coming such a mere step; put in case he did not put to o’purpose. You’re just like the quality; and they’re none of your sharpest; to throw away your money, and know neither the why nor the wherefore.’

The Baronet, with a loud oath, said that the postilion was a scoundrel, for having offended the young lady; and menaced to inform against him, if he received a sixpence.

The postilion made no resistance; the horses were taken off, and the chaise was drawn back to the high road. The little carriage belonging to young Gooch followed, into which Juliet, refusing all aid but from Mr Tedman, eagerly sprang; and her old friend placed himself at her side; while Gooch took the reins.

Sir Lyell looked on, visibly provoked; and when they were driving away, called out, in a tone between derision and indignation, ‘Bravo, Mr Tedman! You are still, I see, the happy man!’

Young Gooch, laughing without scruple, smacked his horse; while Mr Tedman angrily muttered, ‘The quality always allows themselves to say any thing! They think nothing of that! All’s one to them whether one likes it or not.’

The design of Juliet was, when safely arrived at the farm, which was within a very short walk of the town of Lewes, to beg a safe guide to accompany her to the house of Mrs Pierson; where she resolved to pass the night; and whence she determined to write to Elinor, and solicit an interview; in which she meant to lay open her new difficulties, in the hope of re-awakening some interest that might operate in her favour.

To save herself from the vulgar forwardness of ignorant importunity, she forbore to mention her plan, till she alighted from the little vehicle, at the gate of the farm-yard.

‘Goodness! Ma’am,’ then cried young Gooch, ‘you won’t think of such a thing as going away, I hope, before you’ve well come? Why our sport’s all ready! why, if you’ll step a little this way, you may see the three sacks, that three of our men are to run a race in! There’ll be fine scrambling and tumbling, one o’ top o’ t’other. You’ll laugh till you split your sides. And if you’ll only come here, to the right, I’ll shew you the stye where our pig is, that’s to be caught by the tail. But it will be well soaped, I can tell you; so it will be no such easy thing.’

Slightly thanking him, Juliet applied for aid, in procuring her a conductor, to Mr Tedman; who, though at first he pressed her to stay, as she might get a little amusement so pure cheap, since it would cost nothing but looking on; no sooner heard her pronounce that she was called away by business, than he ceased all opposition; and promised to take care of her to Lewes himself, when he’d just spoken a word or two to his cousin Gooch: ‘For I can’t go with you, my dear, only I and you, you know, without that,’ he said, ‘just upon coming; for fear it should put them upon joking; which I don’t like; for all the quality’s so fond of it. Besides which, I must give in my presents; for this little hamper’s full of little odd things for the junket; and if I leave ’em out here, to the mercy of nobody knows who, somebody or other’ll be a pilfering, as sure as a gun; put in case they smoke what I’ve got in my hamper. And they’re pretty quick at mischief.’

Juliet supplicated him to be speedy. Pleased to have his services accepted, he put his hamper under his arm, and walked on to the house; mindless of the impatient remonstrances of young Gooch, who exclaimed, ‘Why now, who’d have thought this of the ‘Squire? it’s doing just contrary; for he’s the very person I thought would make you stay! for he’s come, as one may say, half o’ purpose for your sake; for he never plump accepted of our invitation till I told him, in my letter, of my having invited of you. And then he said he would come.’

Then, lowering his voice into a whisper, he added, ‘Between ourselves, Ma’am, the poor ‘Squire, my good cousin, don’t get much for his money at home, I believe. His daughter’s got quite the top end; and she’s none of your obligingests; she won’t do one mortal thing he desires. She’s been brought up at them fine boarding-schools, with misses that hold up their heads so high, that nothing’s good enough for ’em. So she’s always ashamed of her papa, because, she says, he’s so mean; as he tells us. The poor ‘Squire, my cousin, don’t much like it; but he can’t help himself. She’s as exact like a fine lady as ever you see; and she won’t speak a word to any of her poor relations, because they are so low, she says.’ He then added, ‘If you won’t go while I’m gone, I’ll give you as agreeable a surprize as ever you had in your life!’

He ran on to the house.

In a few minutes, Juliet felt something tickle the nape of her neck, and, imagining it to be an insect, she would have brushed it away with her hand, but received, between her fingers, a pink; and, looking round, saw Flora Pierson, nearly breathless from her efforts to smother a laugh.

‘Is it possible?’ cried Juliet, in great amazement. ‘Miss Pierson! I thought you were ill in bed?’

No further efforts were necessary to repress the laugh; resentment, rather than gravi............