" "Boastful, empty coward! Thou
darest not even brave a woman's rage. If my hands were at liberty, I would
tear out those insolent eyes." "_Go on_, thou gentlest of thy sex,
_and charm me with that angel voice_! For though thou dealest in
threats, abuse, and proud defiance, _it is heaven to hear thee_."
Such was the courtship that passed between our heroine and her triumphant
admirer. They had new proceeded twenty miles, and the midnight bell had
tolled near half an hour. They had passed through one turnpike, and Delia
had endeavoured by cries and prayers to obtain some assistance. But the
person who opened to them was alone, and though ever so desirous, could
not have resisted such a cavalcade. Beside this, the pimp told him a
plausible story of a wanton wife, and an injured husband, with the
particulars of which we do not think it necessary to trouble our readers.
They had also seen one foot passenger, and two horsemen. But they were
eluded and amused by a repetition of the same stratagem.
Delia, having exhausted her first rage and astonishment, had now remained
for some time silent. She revolved in her mind all the particulars of her
situation. She had at first considered her ravisher in no other light than
as hateful and despicable, but she was now compelled to regard this
venomous little animal, as the arbiter of her fate, and the master of her
fortunes.
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