1629. ] Spoiled Children. 621 
ably wrapped up in white kid ; the blinds were down from top to bottom 
of his house ; and the splendid carriages of three fashionable leeches 
were drawn up before the door. 
« What now >” exclaimed Sir Peter, as he knocked softly, and then 
rang loudly the area-bell—< What has happened now?” he inquired 
anxiously, as the door opened.—“< Mademoiselle is in a fever, and the 
surgeons are in consultation about her ankle.”—“ Plague take her ankle, 
and its owner ~ 
Sir Peter had almost vented his impatience in an English way, by 
bestowing a few epithets of national prejudice on foreigners generally ; 
but he restrained the Englishman, and ordering a fowl to be served up 
in the library, entered that abode of silence, glad to escape from his own 
thoughts to those of others. 
He had not long enjoyed himself in the refreshing solitude of that 
sanctuary, when a loud noise was heard in the hall. He rushed out to 
see what new domestic convulsion had occured: it was the “ dear 
Augustus,” brought home from the Red-house at Battersea, drunk with 
a double charge of champagne, swallowed to console him for his losses 
in a match at pigeon-shooting, played and payed that day. Mr. Augus- 
tus came home minus two thousand guineas, besides an annuity of 
twenty pounds for life upon the wife of the trap-man, whom, in his 
anxiety to secure the last bird, he had sent to his long account. 
“Take the brute to bed!” said Sir Peter, sternly ;—“ and, John; 
countermand the fowl, and light me to my chamber. I shall breakfast 
at six to-morrow, John—recollect, at six.” Sir Peter then retired to his 
chamber, which was on the same floor with his lady’s ; for Lady P. was 
already fashionable enough to insist upon the propriety of the disunion 
of bed, if not of board. 
Sir Peter waked at six, and his chocolate was punctual. He threw 
up the window, and as he glanced out, observed a post-chaise and pair 
driving with fashionable—that is, furious—speed up Portland-place. — It 
stopped at his door; the steps were let down, and, wrapped in a loose 
travelling dress, out stepped Miss Amarantha, alone. Sir Peter rang the 
bell hastily, and he was about to give orders that she should not be 
admitted ; but the father overcame him, and he relented.—< Attend to 
the door, and admit your young lady, but deny me,” said Sir Peter, 
_ with a countenance “ more in sorrow than in anger.” 
In justice to the young lady it must be recorded that no marriageable 
harm had been done: for when the lovers had arrived half way on their 
route to Gretna Green, Miss Amarantha discovered that, in the hurry of 
her flight, she had brought away her cotton-box, in mistake for the case 
which contained her diamond necklace—a discovery which, by some 
mysterious psychological process, not thoroughly understood by the 
learned in love matters, acted so suddenly on the passion of Signor 
Soprano, that, two hours after, he stole out of the hotel where they had 
put up, and left the fair runaway to “ gang her gate” back again. 
« Take away the chocolate—I shall breakfast this morning with your 
mistress,” said Sir Peter. He then descended by the back stairs to his 
ibrary ; there, shutting himself up from all interruptions, he read 
Bishop Horne’s sermon on “ Patience” twice through ; and, having 
stored his mind with its precepts, he heard the summons to breakfast 
with a proper degree of composure, considering the weight of the domestic 
duties he had that morning to perform. ; 
