'O no, never! – 'tis impossible! – Let me be gone! – let me be gone! – '
'Not till you tell me whom I should make you hate! I cannot part with you in this new ignorance! Clear, at least, this one little point Whom should I make hate you? – '
'Myself, Sir, myself!' cried she, trembling and struggling. 'If you persist in thus punishing my not having fled from you, at once, as I would have fled from an enemy!'
He immediately let go her hand; but, finding that, though her look was instantly appeased, nay grateful, she was hastily retreating, he glided between her and the door, crying, 'Where, – at least deign to tell me! – Where may I see, – may I speak to you again?'
'Any where, any where!' – replied she, with quickness; but presently, with a sudden check of vivacity, added, 'No where, I mean! – no where, Sir, no where!' —
'Is this possible!' exclaimed he. 'Can you, – even in your wishes, – can you be so hard of heart?' —
'It is you,' said she reproachfully, 'who are hard of heart, to detain me thus! – Think but where I am! – where you are! – This house – Miss Joddrel – What may not be the consequence? – Is it Mr Harleigh who would deliver me over to calumny?'
Harleigh now held open the door for her himself, without venturing to reply, as he heard footsteps upon the stairs; but he permitted his lips to touch her arm, for he could not again seize her hand, as she passed him, eagerly, and with her face averted. She fled on to the stairs, and rapidly ascended them. Harleigh durst now follow; but he pursued her with his eyes. He could not, however, catch a glance, could not even view her profile, so sedulously her head was turned another way. Disappointment and mortification were again seizing him; till he considered, that that countenance thus hidden, had she been wholly unfearful of shewing some little emotion, had probably, nay, even purposely, been displayed.
Fleetly gaining her room, and dropping upon a chair, 'I must fly! – I must fly!' she exclaimed. 'Danger, here, attacks me in every quarter, – assails me in every shape! I must fly! – I must fly!'
This project, which had its origin in her terrour of Elinor, was now confirmed by the most profound, however troubled meditation. To difficulties of discussion which she deemed insurmountable with Harleigh; to claims of a confidence which she now considered to be deeply dangerous with Lord Melbury; and to indignities daily, nay, hourly, more insufferable from Mrs Ireton, were joined, at this moment, the horrour of another interview with Lord Denmeath, still more repugnant to her thoughts, and formidable to her fears.
She refused to descend to the evening-summons of Mrs Ireton; determining to avoid all further offences from that lady, to whom she had already announced her intended departure; yet she sighed, she even wept at quitting with the same unexplained abruptness Lord Melbury and Harleigh; and the cruel disappointment, mingled with strange surmizes, of the ingenuous Lord Melbury; the nameless consternation, blended with resentful suspence, of the impassioned Harleigh; presented scenes of distress and confusion to her imagination, that occupied her thoughts the whole night, with varying schemes and incessant regret.
When the glimmering of light shewed her that she must soon be gone, she mounted to a garret, which she knew to be inhabited by a young house-maid, whom she called up; and prevailed upon to go forth, and seek a boy who would carry a parcel to a distant part of the town.
Having thus gotten the street-door open, she guided the boy herself to the inn; where she arrived in time to save her place; and whence she set off for London.
CHAPTER LXVII
Escape and immediate safety thus secured, her tender friendship for Gabriella superseding all fear, and leaving behind all solicitude, made Juliet nearly pronounce aloud, what internally she repeated without intermission, 'I come to you, then, at last, my beloved Gabriella!' Cheerful, therefore, was her heart, in defiance of her various distresses: she was quitting Mrs Ireton, to join Gabriella! – What could be the circumstances that could make such a change severe to Juliet? Juliet, who felt ill treatment more terribly than misfortune; and to whom kindness was more essential than prosperity?
Her journey was free from accident, and void of event. Absorbed in her own ruminations, she listened not to what was said, and scarcely saw by whom she was surrounded; though her fellow-travellers surveyed her with curiosity, and, from time to time, assailed her with questions.
Arrived at London, she put herself into a hackney-coach; and, almost before her fluttered spirits suffered her to perceive that she had left the inn-yard, she found herself in a haberdasher's shop, in Frith Street, Soho; and in the arms of her Gabriella.
It was long ere either of them could speak; their swelling hearts denied all verbal utterance to their big emotions; though tears of poignant grief at the numerous woes by which they had been separated, were mingled with feelings of the softest felicity at their re-union.
Yet vaguely only Juliet gave the history of her recent difficulties; the history which had preceded them, and upon which hung the mystery of her situation, still remained unrevealed.
Gabriella forbore any investigation, but her look shewed disappointment. Juliet perceived it, and changed colour. Tears gushed into her eyes, and her head dropt upon the neck of her friend. 'Oh my Gabriella!' she cried, 'if my silence wounds, or offends you, – it is at an end!'
Gabriella, instantly repressing every symptom of impatience, warmly protested that she would await, without a murmur, the moment of communication; well satisfied that it could be withheld from motives only that would render its anticipation dangerous, if not censurable.
With grateful tears, and tenderest embraces, Juliet expressed her thanks for this acquiescence.
Of Gabriella, the history was brief and gloomy. She had entered into business with as little comprehension of its attributes, as taste for its pursuit; her mind, therefore, bore no part in its details, though she sacrificed to them the whole of her time. Of her son alone she could speak or think. From her husband she reaped little consolation. Married before the Revolution, from a convent, and while yet a child; according to the general custom of her country, which rarely permits any choice even to the man; and to the female allows not even a negative; chance had not, as sometimes is kindly the case, played the part of election, in assorting the new married couple. Gabriella was generous, noble, and dignified: exalted in her opinions, and full of sensibility: Mr – was many years older than herself, haughty and austere, though brave and honourable; but so cold in his nature, that he was neither struck with her virtues nor her graces, save in considering them as appendages to their mutual rank; nor much moved even by the death of his little son, but from repining that he had lost the heir to his illustrious name. He was now set off, incognito, to an appointed meeting with a part of his family, upon the continent.
Again a new scene of life opened to Juliet. The petty frauds, the over-reaching tricks, the plausible address, of the craft shop-keeper in retail, she had already witnessed: but the difficulties of honest trade she had neither seen nor imagined. The utter inexperience of Gabriella, joined to the delicacy of her probity, made her not more frequently the dupe of the artifices of those with whom she had to deal, than the victim of her own scruples. New to the mighty difference between buying and selling; to the necessity of having at hand more stores than may probably be wanted, for avoiding the risk of losing customers from having fewer; and to the usage of rating at an imaginary value whatever is in vogue, in order to repair the losses incurred from the failure of obtaining the intrinsic worth of what is old-fashioned or faulty; – new to all this, the wary shop-keeper's code, she was perpetually mistaken, or duped, through ignorance of ignorance, which leads to hazards, unsuspected to be hazards.