"Oh, my lord," cried Delia, "is it you? Thanks,
eternal thanks, for this fortunate incident. If you had not come, heaven
knows what would have become of me! Those brutes, those wretches--But
conduct me, my lord, to my father's house. Without doubt, they must by
this time be in a terrible fright."
"Do not be uneasy," cried his lordship, endeavouring to assume an
harmonious, but missing his point, he spoke in the shrillest and most
squeaking accent that can be imagined. "Do not be uneasy, my charmer. You
are in the hands of a man, that loves you, as never woman was loved
before. But I will be with you in a minute," said he. And withdrawing
behind the carriage, he beckoned to the person who had conducted the
business of the rape. "Why, you incorrigible blockhead," said lord Martin,
"you have neglected half your instructions. Why, her hands are at
liberty." "I beg your honour's pardon," replied the pimp, "I had indeed
forgotten, but it shall be remedied in a moment." And saying this, he
pulled a strong ribband out of his pocket, and getting into the chariot,
fastened the soft and lily hands of our heroine behind her. She screamed,
and invoked the name of his lordship a thousand times. Her hair became
disentangled from its ligaments, and flowed in waving ringlets about her
snowy, panting bosom. Exhausted with continual agitation, and particularly
with the last struggle, she seemed ready to faint, but was quickly
restored by the assiduity of these sordid grooms.
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