Newton Forster. Фредерик Марриет
spread by Betsy had collected a crowd opposite the house, still there was no attempt at violence.
"I'm afraid that it's too late," said the young lady, turning from the window. "What a crowd! and how angry they seem to be! you must be hanged now!"
"O no! I'll be mad—I'll be anything, my dear Miss Dragwell."
"Well, then, we must be quick—don't put your gown on—petticoats are better—I'll dress you up." Miss Dragwell rummaged the drawers, and collecting a variety of feathers and coloured ribbons, pinned them over the bandages which encircled Mrs. Forster's head; then pulling out a long-tailed black coat of her husband's which had been condemned, forced her arms through it, and buttoned it in front. "That will do for the present," cried Miss Dragwell; "now here's the cat, take it in your arms, go to the window, and nurse it like a baby. I'll throw it open—you come forward and make them a curtsey; that will spread the report through the town that you are mad, and the rest will then be easy."
"Oh! I can't—I can't go to the window, I can't, indeed."
"I'll open the window and speak to the people," said Miss Dragwell; and she threw up the sash, informing the gaping multitude that Mrs. Forster was quite out of her senses, but perfectly harmless.
"Perfectly harmless, after killing a man!" observed one of the party below.
"They won't believe me, Mrs. Forster; come, you must, or you will certainly be hanged."
Urged by her fears, Mrs. Forster approached the window, and showed herself to the astonished crowd. "Curtsey to them," said Miss Dragwell, holding her handkerchief before her mouth.
Mrs. Forster curtsied.
"Smile upon them," continued the malicious young lady.
Mrs. Forster grinned horribly.
"Now dance your cat."
Mrs. Forster obeyed the injunction.
"Now give a loud shriek, and toss the cat out of window."
Mrs. Forster uttered a hideous yell, and threw the animal at the heads of the spectators, who retreated with alarm in every direction.
"Now burst into a fit of laughter, curtsey to them, and wave your hand, and that will be sufficient."
Mrs. Forster obeyed the last order, and Miss Dragwell shut the window. In a few minutes the report spread that Mrs. Forster had gone out of her senses; and the murder of Mr. Spinney—a topic which was nearly exhausted—was dismissed for the time to dwell and comment upon the second catastrophe.
Chapter VIII
"Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend which is the mightier."
SHAKESPEARE.
"So far we have succeeded, my dear Mrs. Forster," said Miss Dragwell; "I will now return home, and come back as soon as I can with the post-chaise. Mr. Ramsden's servant shall come with me to conduct you to the asylum, and I trust in a quarter of an hour to see you clear of these foolish people of Overton, who think that you are the party in fault: you had better remain in your room, and not appear again at the window; the crowd will disperse when they are tired of watching: good-bye, my dear Mrs. Forster, good-bye."
Mrs. Forster was in too sulky a humour to vouchsafe an answer; and Miss Dragwell quitted the house. Betsy had taken advantage of the turmoil and the supposed lunacy of her mistress to gossip in the neighbourhood. Nicholas Forster was in the shop, but took no notice of Miss Dragwell as she passed through. He appeared to have forgotten all that had occurred, and was very busy filing at his bench. There we must leave him, and follow the motions of the mischief-loving Miss Dragwell.
Upon her return, the party collected at the parsonage considered that they had proceeded far enough; but Miss Dragwell thought otherwise; she had made up her mind that Mrs. Forster should pass a day or two in the Lunatic Asylum; and she felt assured that Mr. Ramsden, through whose assistance her intention must be accomplished, would not venture to dispute her wishes.
Her father, with a loud Ha, ha, ha! proposed that Mr. Spinney should appear as a ghost by the bedside of Mrs. Forster, wrapped up in a sheet, with a He, he, he! and that thus the diversion should end; but this project was overruled by Mr. Spinney, who protested that nothing should induce him again to trust himself, with a He, he, he! in the presence of Mrs. Forster.
Ramsden, although well acquainted with Dr. Beddington, who had charge of the asylum, was not sure that he would be pleased with their freak, and earnestly dissuaded his intended from proceeding any further.
"It is useless to argue, my dear George, I am Quixote enough to revenge the injuries of those who have been forced to submit to her temper; and moreover, I hope to effect a cure. Desperate diseases, you must be aware as a medical man, require desperate remedies. I consider that a termagant and a lunatic are during their paroxysms on a par, as rational behaviour in either party may be considered as a lucid interval. Let her, if it be only for one hour, witness herself reflected in the various distorted mirrors of perverted mind; and if she has any conscience whatever, good will spring from evil. I joined this plot from a love of mischief; but I carry it on from a feeling that favourable results will be produced."
"But, my dear Fanny—"
"I will have it so, Ramsden, so don't attempt to dissuade me; we are not married yet, and I must not be thwarted in my short supremacy. Surely you ought not to be displeased at my desire to 'tame a shrew.' I give a fair promise not to fall into an error which I so ardently detest: now, send for the chaise, write a letter to Dr. Beddington, and leave me to arrange with Mrs. Forster."
Ramsden, like many others when teased by a pretty woman, consented against his will; he wrote a letter to Dr. Beddington, explaining circumstances, and requesting his pardon for the liberty which he had been persuaded to take.
Miss Dragwell, as soon as the letter was sealed, put on her bonnet, and taking Mr. Ramsden's servant with her, stepped into the chaise, and drove to the house of Mr. Nicholas Forster. She found Mrs. Forster squatted on the bed in her ludicrous attire, awaiting her return with impatience.
"Oh! Mrs. Forster, I have had such trouble, such difficulty; but Mr. Ramsden has been persuaded at last. There is the letter to Dr. Beddington, and Mr. Ramsden's servant is in the chaise at the door: the sooner you are off the better; the people are so outrageous, and call you such shocking names."
"Do they?" replied Mrs. Forster, whose wrath kindled at the information.
"Yes, indeed; and that wretch Betsy declares that she'll put the rope over your neck with her own hands."
"Does she?" cried Mrs. Forster, her eyes twinkling with rage.
"Yes; and your husband, your foolish husband, says that he'll be able to make his improvement in the duplex, now that you'll be hanged."
"He does, does he?" replied Mrs. Forster, catching her breath, and grinding her teeth as she jumped off the bed.
"Now, my dear Mrs. Forster, it's no use minding what they say; all you have to do is to escape as soon as possible; the magistrate's warrant may arrive this minute, and then it will be too late; so come down at once:—how lucky that you have escaped! it must be a dreadful thing to be hanged!"
This last remark, always brought forward by Miss Dragwell when she had a point to carry, induced Mrs. Forster to hasten downstairs to the post-chaise, which she found already occupied by Mr. Ramsden's servant. As soon as she entered, it was driven off with speed in the direction already communicated to the post-boy.
We shall leave the town of Overton to recover its quiet—for such a bustle had not occurred for many years—and Miss Dragwell to exult in the success of her plot, while we follow Mrs. Forster to her new quarters.
The chaise rattled on—Mr. Ramsden's servant crouching in a corner, as far as possible