Saturday, 22 July 2000

From "Walsingham"

By Mary Robinson.

Miss Woodford waved her hand, as if to check the altercation.

"You see, my Lord," said I, "that this is no place for investigating who has and who has not a right here. In the cause of humanity every man is authorized to follow the dictates of his heart; and I should not deserve to be ranked with my fellow-creatures, were I capable of deserting such a woman, and in such a situation. I---I am the cause of all that Miss Woodford suffers---it is to me that she is indebted for these conflicts of mind, which menace even her existence. But I will snatch her from the arms of death---she shall not perish---I will not be her murderer! Look up, Amelia---be comforted---command the wretch who does not deserve thy pity; and let one honourable action, in some degree, prove an extenuation of the folly, the frenzy of his conduct."

"Oh, Walsingham!" sighed Miss Woodford, as she hid her face upon her pillow.

"Walsingham!" interrupted the young lord, with evident surprise, "queer my caxon! are you Walsingham Ainsforth! Here's a kick-up! Why, old Aubrey is waiting at Bristol to marry little Milly. You played truant, my sly one; and women are not to be cajoled without some shew of spirit, my hearty. I advised her to carry the colonel's knapsack---and she's going to head-quarters under my escort. So strike you colours, and beat up for recruits in some other district---little Milly is no match for you, I promise you."

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