Night and Morning, Volume 4 eBook

Meanwhile, days crept on, and no new violence was offered to Fanny.  Vaudemont learned, then, by little and little—­and Fanny’s account was very confused—­the nature of the danger she had run.

It seemed that one day, tempted by the fineness of the weather up the road that led from the suburb farther into the country, Fanny was stopped by a gentleman in a carriage, who accosted her, as she said, very kindly:  and after several questions, which she answered with her usual unsuspecting innocence, learned her trade, insisted on purchasing some articles of work which she had at the moment in her basket, and promised to procure her a constant purchaser, upon much better terms than she had hitherto obtained, if she would call at the house of a Mrs. West, about a mile from the suburb towards London.  This she promised to do, and this she did, according to the address he gave her.  She was admitted to a lady more gaily dressed than Fanny had ever seen a lady before,—­the gentleman was also present,—­they both loaded her with compliments, and bought her work at a price which seemed about to realise all the hopes of the poor girl as to the gravestone for William Gawtrey,—­as if his evil fate pursued that wild man beyond the grave, and his very tomb was to be purchased by the gold of the polluter!  The lady then appointed her to call again; but, meanwhile, she met Fanny in the streets, and while she was accosting her, it fortunately chanced that Miss Semper the milliner passed that way—­turned round, looked hard at the lady, used very angry language to her, seized Fanny’s hand, led her away while the lady slunk off; and told her that the said lady was a very bad woman, and that Fanny must never speak to her again.  Fanny most cheerfully promised this.  And, in fact, the lady, probably afraid, whether of the mob or the magistrates, never again came near her.

“And,” said Fanny, “I gave the money they had both given to me to Miss Semper, who said she would send it back.”

“You did right, Fanny; and as you made one promise to Miss Semper, so you must make me one—­never to stir from home again without me or some other person.  No, no other person—­only me.  I will give up everything else to go with you.”

“Will you?  Oh, yes.  I promise!  I used to like going alone, but that was before you came, brother.”

And as Fanny kept her promise, it would have been a bold gallant indeed who would have ventured to molest her by the side of that stately and strong protector.

CHAPTER VI.

          “Timon.  Each thing’s a thief
          The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
          Have unchecked theft.

          The sweet degrees that this brief world affords,
          To such as may the passive drugs of it
          Freely command.”—­Timon of Athens.

On the day and at the hour fixed for the interview with the stranger who had visited Mr. Beaufort, Lord Lilburne was seated in the library of his brother-in-law; and before the elbow-chair, on which he lolled carelessly, stood our old friend Mr. Sharp, of Bow Street notability.