This speech, which I made very gravely, occasioned still stronger protestations; which he continued to pour forth, and I continued to disclaim, till I began to wonder that we were not in Queen Ann Street, and begged he would desire the coachman to drive faster.
"And does this little moment," cried he, "which is the first of happiness I have ever known, does it already appear so very long to you?"
"I am afraid the man has mistaken the way," answered I, "or else we should ere now have been at our journey's end. I must beg you will speak to him."
"And can you think me so much my own enemy?-if my good genius has inspired the man with a desire of prolonging my happiness, can you expect that I should counteract its indulgence?"
I now began to apprehend that he had himself ordered the man to go a wrong way; and I was so much alarmed at the idea, that, the very instant it occurred to me, I let down the glass, and made a sudden effort to open the chariot-door myself, with a view of jumping into the street; but he caught hold of me, exclaiming, "For Heaven's sake, what is the matter?"
"I-I don't know," cried I (quite out of breath), "but I am sure the man goes wrong; and if you will not speak to him, I am determined I will get out myself."
"You amaze me," answered he (still holding me), "I cannot imagine what you apprehend. Surely you can have no doubts of my honour?"
He drew me towards him as he spoke. I was frightened dreadfully, and could hardly say, "No, Sir, no,-none at all: only Mrs. Mirvan,-I think she will be uneasy."
"Whence this alarm, my dearest angel?-What can you fear?-my life is at your devotion, and can you, then, doubt my protection?"
And so saying, he passionately kissed my hand.
Never, in my whole life, have I been so terrified. I broke forcibly from him, and, putting my head out of the window, called aloud to the man to stop. Where we then were, I know not; but I saw not a human being, or I should have called for help.
Sir Clement, with great earnestness, endeavoured to appease and compose me: "If you do not intend to murder me," cried I, "for mercy's, for pity's sake, let me get out!"
"Compose your spirits, my dearest life," cried he, "and I will do everything you would have me." And then he called to the man himself, and bid him make haste to Queen Ann Street. "This stupid fellow," continued he, "has certainly mistaken my orders; but I hope you are now fully satisfied."