This was, however, only a circumstance of horror to her: she found herself shut up in a place of confinement, without light, without knowledge where she was, and not a human being near her!
Yet the same returning reason which enabled her to take this view of her own situation, brought also to her mind that in which she had left Delvile;--under all the perturbation of new-kindled jealousy, just calling upon Belfield,--Belfield, tenacious of his honour even more than himself,--to satisfy doubts of which the very mention would be received as a challenge!
"Oh yet, oh yet," cried she, "let me fly and overtake them!--I may find them before morning, and to-night it must surely have been too late for this work of death!"
She then arose to feel for the door, and succeeded; but it was locked, and no effort she could make enabled her to open it.
Her agony was unspeakable; she called out with violence upon the people of the house, conjured them to set her at liberty, offered any reward for their assistance, and threatened them with a prosecution if detained.
Nobody, however, came near her: some slept on notwithstanding all the disturbance she could make, and others; though awakened by her cries, concluded them the ravings of a mad woman, and listened not to what she said.
Her head was by no means in a condition to bear this violence of distress; every pulse was throbbing, every vein seemed bursting, her reason, so lately returned, could not bear the repetition of such a shock, and from supplicating for help with all the energy of feeling and understanding, she soon continued the cry from mere vehemence of distraction.
Thus dreadfully passed the night; and in the morning, when the woman of the house came to see after her, she found her raving with such frenzy, and desperation, that her conscience was perfectly at ease in the treatment she had given her, being now firmly satisfied she required the strictest confinement.
She still, however, tried to get away; talked of Delvile without cessation, said she should be too late to serve him, told the woman she desired but to prevent murder, and repeatedly called out, "Oh beloved of my heart! wait but a moment, and I will snatch thee from destruction!"
Mrs Wyers, this woman, now sought no longer to draw from her whence she came, or who she was, but heard her frantic exclamations without any emotion, contentedly concluding that her madness was incurable: and though she was in a high fever, refused all sustenance, and had every symptom of an alarming and dangerous malady, she was fully persuaded that her case was that of decided insanity, and had not any notion of temporary or accidental alienation of reason.