The anxiety I was under to know what would become of poor Marcella, immediately determin'd me to follow her husband into the house. – A man-servant not having obey'd his lady's commands in going to bed, having something or other wherewith to employ himself in his own room, on hearing somebody at the door look'd through the window, and perceiving it was his master flew down stairs and gave him entrance on the first knock.

Rachel, who had been posted centry in a back-parlour, in order to watch the break of day, and conduct Fillamour out of the house before any of the family were stirring, now come running out on hearing the street door open'd; but scarce could an apparition have spread a greater terror through her whole frame than did the sight of Celadon at this juncture.

Rachel. Lord, sir, who could have thought your honour would have come home to night?

Celadon. I did not design it, indeed; – but is it so strange a thing that a man should change his mind?

In speaking this he was passing on, but she threw herself between him and the foot of the stairs, and catching fast hold of the sleeve of his coat, prevented him from going up, with these words:

Rachel. Oh, dear sir, I beg you will not disturb my lady; – she is gone to bed very much discomposed: – pray be so good as to step into the parlor, – there is a good fire, – and I will go and see if she is awake, and tell her you are here. Celadon. My wife ill! – What is the matter with her?

Rachel. I do not know, sir, but she was seiz'd with a sort of a – I can't tell the name of it, – indeed not I; – but I believe it was something like a fit, – and so, sir, she went to bed; but I will go and let her know you are come.