me, they must have remarked something extraordinary from
the discomposure I could not help betraying; especially when at dinner
mention was made of the charmingest youth having been there, and stayed
breakfast. "Oh! he was such a beauty!... I should have died for him!...
they would pull caps for him!..." and the like fooleries; which,
however, was throwing oil on a fire I was sorely put to it to smother
the blaze of.

The fluctuations of my mind, the whole day, produced one good effect:
which was, that, through mere fatigue, I slept tolerably well till five
in the morning, when I got up, and having dressed myself, waited, under
the double tortures of fear and impatience, for the appointed hour.
It came at last, the dear, critical, dangerous hour came; and now,
supported only by the courage love lent me, I ventured, a tip-toe, down
stairs, leaving my box behind, for fear of being surprized with it in
going out.

I got to the street door, the key whereof was always laid on the
chair by our bed side, in trust with Phoebe, who having not the least
suspicion of my entertaining any design to go from them (nor, indeed,
had I, but the day before), made no reserve or concealment of it from
me. I opened the door with great ease; love, that emboldened, protected
me too: and now, got safe into the street, I saw my new guardian angel
waiting at a coach door, ready open. How I got to him I know not: I
suppose I flew; but I was in the coach in a trice, and he by the side of
me, with his arms clasped round me, and giving me the kiss of welcome.
The coachman had his orders, and drove to them.

My eyes were instantly filled with tears, but tears of the most
delicious delight; to find myself in the arms of that beauteous youth,
was a rapture that my little hear swam in; past or future were equally
out of the question with me; the present was as much as all my powers
of life were sufficient to bear the transport of, without fainting. Nor
were the most tender embraces, the most soothing expressions wanting
on his side, to assure me of his love, and of never giving me cause to
repent the bold step I had taken, in throwing myself thus entirely upon
his honour and generosity. But, alas! this was no merit in me, for I was
drove to it by a passion too impetuous for me to resist, and, I did what
I did, because I could not help it.

In an instant, for time was now annihilated with me, we were landed at a
public house in Chelsea, hospitably co