lling however
to take him by surprise, she allows him a day for deliberation, and
insists upon his delivering at the expiration of it, an honest and
impartial answer. His entertainment is sumptuous.

In the mean time, a peasant, who at a distance was witness to the
violence committed upon Burchel, and had traced him to the house of
Olivia, carries the account of what he had seen to Raymond Place. The
company, which, in the absence of lord Raymond, consisted of Louisa, Mr.
Bromley, an uncle, Sir Charles Somerville, a suitor, and Mr. Townshend,
a sarcastic wit, determine to set off the next morning for the house of
the ravisher. This is the scene which follows.

"Alarmed at the bustle upon the stairs, Olivia, more dead than
alive, pressed the hand of Burchel with a look of inexpressible
astonishment and mortification, and withdrew to the adjoining
apartment.

"The door instantly flew open. Burchel advanced irresolutely a
few steps towards the company, bowed, and was silent.

"The person that first entered was Mr. Bromley. He instantly
seized hold of Burchel, and shook him very heartily by the hand.

"Ha, my boy, said he, have we found you? Well, and how? safe and
sound? Eh? clapping him upon the shoulder.

"At your service, sir, answered Burchel, with an air of
embarrassment and hesitation.

"It was not altogether the right thing, methinks, to leave us
all without saying why, or wherefore, and stay out all night.
Why we thought you had been murdered. My niece here has been in
hysterics.

"'Pon honour, cried sir Charles, you are very facetious. But we
heard, Mr. Burchel, you were ran away with. It must have been
very alarming. I vow, I should have been quite fluttered. Pray,
sir, how was it?

"Why, indeed, interposed Mr. Townshend, the very relation seemed
to disturb sir Charles. For my part, I was more alarmed for him
than for Miss Bromley.

"Well, but, returned Bromley, impatiently, it is a queer affair.
I hope as the lady went so far, you were not shy. You have not
spoiled all, and affronted her.

"Oh, surely not, exclaimed Townshend, you do not suspect him of
being such a boor. Doubtless every thing is settled by this
time. The lady has a fine fortune, Burchel; poets do not meet
with such every day; Miss Bromley, you look pale.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! you do me infinite honour, cried Louis