The ladies proposed an airing, to divert the Countess from dwelling on past events, and Matilda from apprehensions of future ones. The carriage was ordered, and they drove as far as Hampstead. The evening was uncommonly beautiful, and when they returned, the moon, which was in its meridian, shone with all its splendour. Just as the carriage stopped in Harley-street, Matilda, who sat next the door, saw two gentlemen pass slowly and look into the coach; she plainly perceived one of them was Mr. Weimar; she met his eyes, and he turned his hastily from her; she gave a faint shriek, and hid her head behind Mrs. Courtney. Her friends were alarmed, but hastened her into the house; she ran into the dining-parlour, and, and in inconceivable terror, cried out, "He is come—he is come!" "Who, who?" exclaimed the Countess. "Mr. Weimar, (answered she) did you not see him?" "No, (replied the Marchioness) and I hope your fears deceived you." "Too sure they did not (said Matilda) and I am convinced also that he knew me." "Fear nothing (said Mrs. Courtney,) you are in the power of your friends; he must prove his right to you before he can take you from us: here are no lettres de-cachet, the laws will protect you from injury; compose yourself, therefore, my dear girl—in England no violence can be offered to you in any shape."
This kind and seasonable assurance calmed the terrors of the trembling Matilda; but when she retired to rest, and reflected on her cruel destiny, she shed floods of tears, and passed a sleepless night.
The following day was appointed for their return to Mrs. Courtney's villa, to spend a week or two, previous to the preparations for the birth day, after which the whole party, with Lord Delby, proposed going to Scarborough.
The Countess and Matilda bore evident marks in their features and pale looks, of the uneasy state of their minds their amiable friends sought to raise
