The troops of
ladies were off to bereave themselves of their fashionable imitation old
lace adornment, which denounced them in some sort abettors and associates
of the sanguinary loathed wretch, Mrs. Elizabeth Worcester, their
benefactress of the previous day, now hanged and dangling on the
gallows-tree.
Those ladies who wore not imitation lace or any lace in the morning, were
scarcely displeased with the beau for his exposure of them that did. The
gentlemen were confounded by his exhibition of audacious power. The two
gentlemen nighest upon violently resenting his brutality to Duchess
Susan, led her from the room in company with Chloe.
'The woman shall fear me to good purpose,' Mr. Beamish said to himself.
CHAPTER VIII
Mr. Camwell was in the ante-room as Chloe passed out behind the two
incensed supporters of Duchess Susan.
'I shall be by the fir-trees on the Mount at eight this evening,' she
said.
'I will be there,' he replied.
'Drive Mr. Beamish into the country, that these gentlemen may have time
to cool.'
He promised her it should be done.
Close on the hour of her appointment, he stood under the fir-trees,
admiring the sunset along the western line of hills, and when Chloe
joined him he spoke of the beauty of the scene.
'Though nothing seems more eloquently to say farewell,' he added, with a
sinking voice.
'We could say it now, and be friends,' she answered.
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