Mrs. Forster uttered a hideous yell, and threw the animal at the heads of the spectators, who retreated with alarm in every direction.
“Now burst into a fit of laughter, curtsy to them, and wave your hand, and that will be sufficient.”
Mrs. Forster obeyed the last order, and Miss Dragwell shut the window. In a few minutes the report spread that Mrs. Forster had gone out of her senses; and the murder of Mr. Spinney, a topic which was nearly exhausted, was dismissed for the time to dwell and comment upon the second catastrophe.
Volume One--Chapter Eight.
Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend which is the mightier.
Shakespeare.
“So far we have succeeded, my dear Mrs. Forster,” said Miss Dragwell; “I will now return home, and come back as soon as I can with the post-chaise. Mr. Ramsden’s servant shall come with me to conduct you to the asylum, and I trust in a quarter of an hour to see you clear of these foolish people of Overton, who think that you are the party in fault: you had better remain in your room, and not appear again at the window; the crowd will disperse when they are tired of watching: good-bye, my dear Mrs. Forster, good-bye.”
Mrs. Forster was in too sulky a humour to vouchsafe an answer; and Miss Dragwell quitted the house. Betsy had taken advantage of the turmoil and the supposed lunacy of her mistress, to gossip in the neighbourhood. Nicholas Forster was in the shop, but took no notice of Miss Dragwell as she passed through. He appeared to have forgotten all that had occurred, and was very busy filing at his bench. There we must leave him, and follow the motions of the mischief-loving Miss Dragwell.
Upon her return, the party collected at the parsonage considered that they had proceeded far enough; but Miss Dragwell thought otherwise; she had made up her mind that Mrs. Forster should pass a day or two in the Lunatic Asylum, and she felt assured that Mr. Ramsden, through whose assistance her intention must be accomplished, would not venture to dispute her wishes.
Her father, with a loud Ha, ha, ha! proposed that Mr. Spinney should appear as a ghost by the bedside of Mrs. Forster, wrapped up in a sheet, with a He, he, he! and that thus the diversion should end; but this project was overruled by Mr. Spinney, who protested that nothing should induce him again to trust himself, with a He, he, he! in the presence of Mrs. Forster.
Ramsden, although well acquainted with Doctor Beddington, who had charge of the asylum, was not sure that he would be pleased with their freak, and earnestly dissuaded his intended from proceeding any farther.
“It is useless to argue, my dear George, I am Quixote enough to revenge the injuries of those who have been forced to submit to her temper; and moreover I hope to effect a cure. Desperate diseases, you must be aware as a medical man, require desperate remedies. I consider that a termagant and a lunatic are during their paroxysms on a par, as rational behaviour in either party may be considered as a lucid interval. Let her, if it be only for one hour, witness herself reflected in the various distorted mirrors of perverted mind; and if she has any conscience whatever, good will spring from evil. I joined this plot from a love of mischief; but I carry it on from a feeling that favourable results will be produced.”
“But my dear Fanny—”
“I will have it so, Ramsden, so don’t attempt to dissuade me; we are not married yet, and I must not be thwarted in my short supremacy. Surely you ought not to be displeased at my desire to ‘tame a shrew.’ I give a fair promise not to fall into an error which I so ardently detest: now, send for the chaise, write a letter to Doctor Beddington, and leave me to arrange with Mrs. Forster.”
Ramsden, like many others when teased by a pretty woman, consented against his will; he wrote a letter to Doctor Beddington, explaining circumstances, and requesting his pardon for the liberty which he had been persuaded to take.
Miss Dragwell, as soon as the letter was sealed, put on her bonnet, and taking Mr. Ramsden’s servant with her, stepped into the chaise, and drove to the house of Mr. Nicholas Forster. She found Mrs. Forster squatted on the bed in her ludicrous attire, awaiting her return with impatience.
“Oh! Mrs. Forster, I have had such trouble, such difficulty; but Mr. Ramsden has been persuaded at last. There is a letter to Dr. Beddington, and Mr. Ramsden’s servant is in the chaise at the door; the sooner you are off the better; the people are so outrageous, and call you such shocking names.”
“Do they?” replied Mrs. Forster, whose wrath kindled at the information.
“Yes, indeed; and that wretch Betsy declares that she’ll put the rope over your neck with her own hands.”
“Does she?” cried Mrs. Forster, her eyes twinkling with rage.
“Yes; and your husband, your foolish husband, says that he’ll be able to make his improvement in the duplex, now that you’ll be hanged.”
“He does, does he?” replied Mrs. Forster, catching her breath, and grinding her teeth as she jumped off the bed.
“Now, my dear Mrs. Forster, it’s no use minding what they say; all you have to do is to escape as soon as possible; the magistrate’s warrant may arrive this minute, and then it will be too late; so come down at once:—how lucky that you have escaped! it must be a dreadful thing to be hanged!”
This last remark, always brought forward by Miss Dragwell, when she had a point to carry, induced Mrs. Forster to hasten down stairs to the post-chaise, which she found already occupied by Mr. Ramsden’s servant. As soon as she entered, it was driven off with speed in the direction already communicated to the post-boy.
We shall leave the town of Overton to recover its quiet, for such a bustle had not occurred for many years, and Miss Dragwell to exult in the success of her plot, while we follow Mrs. Forster to her new quarters.
The chaise rattled on, Mr. Ramsden’s servant crouching in a corner, as far as possible from Mrs. Forster, evidently about as well pleased with his company as one would be in a pitfall with a tiger. At last it stopped at the door of the Lunatic Asylum, and the post-boy dismounting from his reeking horses, pulled violently at a large bell, which answered with a most lugubrious tolling, and struck awe into the breast of Mrs. Forster.
When the door was opened Mr. Ramsden’s servant alighted, and went in to deliver his letter to the doctor. The doctor was not at home; he had obtained his furlough of three weeks, and was very busy with his fishing-rod some thirty miles distant; but the keepers were in attendance, and, as Mr. Ramsden’s servant stated the insanity of Mrs. Forster, and that she had been sent there by his master, they raised no objections to her reception. In a few minutes the servant reappeared with two keepers, who handed Mrs. Forster out of the chaise, and conducted her to a receiving-room, where Mrs. Forster waited some minutes in expectation of the appearance of Doctor Beddington. In the mean time, Mr. Ramsden’s servant, having no farther communication to make, left the letter for Doctor Beddington, and returned in the chaise to Overton.
After a quarter of an hour had elapsed, Mrs. Forster inquired of one of the keepers, who had, much to her annoyance, taken a chair close to her, whether the doctor intended to come.
“He’ll come by-and-bye, good woman. How do you feel yourself now?”
“Very cold—very cold, indeed,” replied Mrs. Forster, shivering.
“That’s what the poor brutes always complain of—ar’nt it, Jim?” observed another keeper, who had just entered. “Where be we to stow her.”
“I sent Tom to get Number 14 ready.”
“Why, you don’t think that I’m mad!” cried Mrs. Forster, with terror.
“So, softly—so—so,” said the keeper next to her, patting her, as he would soothe a fractious child.
The