the most violent intimacy with her; consequently when the party broke up, she advanced and solicited the young lady's acquaintance, in the politest manner possible.
When the company had left the rooms Matilda thanked the Marchioness for the pleasure she had procured her, in the introduction to such charming young women as Mademoiselle de Bouville and de Bancre. "There was another lady, (said she) who paid me much attention, and invited my acquaintance." "Yes. (answered the Marchioness) Mademoiselle de Fontelle; but beware of her, my dear Matilda: she is far from being a desirable intimate—I neither like her nor her aunt, Madame de Roch; but I know not how it is, one meets with them every where, and cannot avoid seeing them sometimes in public, but they are never of my private parties, therefore let common civility only pass between you."
The young lady promised to observe her advice, and they separated to their respective apartments.
On Matilda's table lay a letter, which the servant placed there, not to disturb her whilst in company. She hastily broke it open; it was from Joseph: he related the incident respecting the horse, mentioned the gentleman's enquiries, and described his person. It was her uncle. She was terrified and shocked beyond measure; she sunk into a chair, and burst into a flood of tears: "Good heavens! (said she) if he should trace me here: yet so many days before him, I think I may be safe; Bertha was not in the secret, and Joseph I can, I know, depend upon not to betray me." Under the most painful reflections, she retired to rest, but sleep forsook her pillow: the dread of falling again into the power of a man so abandoned gave her the most poignant affliction—"O, that we were in England, (said she) I should then, I think, be safe from his pursuit."
She past a restless night, and in the morning met her friends with a pale countenance and uneasy mind.
