saying he was going to London for two months,
and that if she would not consent to sometimes
see him he would shoot himself that very day.

Instead of letting the scoundrel shoot
himself or not, just as he chose, the poor girl fell
into fits. She must now, she thought, either
break her word to her father or cause the death
of the man she loved. Poor romantic girl,
profoundly ignorant of the world and the
world's ways, she little knew how little danger
there was of the suicide of the gallant captain,
and how wasted was all her tenderness on such
a cruel scamp. She continues:

"At last I wrote and expostulated with him
once more on the baseness of such a proceeding.
This letter, instead of having the wished effect,
produced another still more alarming. In this
he flung off the tender behaviour for which I
always loved him, and put on the language of a
tyrant; told me he would see me—no father on
earth should hinder him, and if I would not
consent he would take me off by force. I
answered this with some warmth, as I began to
see I was deceived in him. I then insisted he
should never write to me again, but he contrived
to make me read a letter directed in another
hand, wherein he told me we had both been
deceived, through some mistake; said he had
something to communicate of the utmost
consequence to my future happiness, and if I would
indulge him with ten minutes' conversation, he
never after would desire to see me again; but
if I refused the last request I must expect the
worst.

"Terrified as I was, with no friend to advise
me, I at last consented, and appointed an hour;
but the moment he saw me he locked the door,
and drawing a pistol from his pocket, uttered
the most horrid imprecations, and swore if I
would not bind myself by the most solemn oaths
to see him again on his return from London,
he would shoot himself before my face. Think,
my dear girl, on my cruel situation. What
could I do? Half distracted, I told him I
would do anything rather than see him commit
so rash an action. This was Saturday, and I
promised him, if I was alive, to see him on
Wednesday evening, during the concert. On
this condition he let me go."

The poor girl was now almost mad with fear
and dread of the future. Calling on Miss
Sheridan, who was ill, she secreted a bottle of
laudanum, resolved to destroy herself, and so save
her lover's life and the happiness of her parents.
She thus describes her attempted suicide:

"The next Sunday, after church, I left
my mother and sisters walking. I sat down,
made my will, and wrote a letter to my father
and one to Mathews. While I was about it,
Mr. Sheridan came in; he had observed me
taking the laudanum, and when he saw me
writing he seemed very much alarmed. At
last, after swearing him to secrecy, I told him
what I intended to do, and begged him to take
charge of my letters. He used every argument
in the world to dissuade me from it, but finding
them all useless, he entreated me at least not
to take it till the afternoon, as he then would
tell me something which he was sure would
make me lay aside such thoughts entirely. Fearful
of his betraying me, I consented, but the
moment lie was gone took half the quantity,
and after dinner, finding it had no effect, took
the rest."

But the lover saw the crisis fast approaching,
for he had been in Mathews's confidence. He
instantly went to two doctors to ask them to call
that night at the Linleys'. On returning, to
his indescribable horror he found the beautiful
girl swooning on the settee, and apparently
dying. He ran for the doctors; she had dropped
on the floor apparently dead. By force they
opened her mouth and poured down an emetic,
which saved her life.

The moment had come for Sheridan to
show his love, and expose the wickedness of
Mathews. Miss Linley describes the interview:

"Monday evening Sheridan came to me. He
expostulated with me with the greatest tenderness,
and showed me the dreadful crime I had
been about to commit, and for one who was
every way unworthy of my least consideration.
He then told me every circumstance relative
to myself which Mathews had told him. He
showed me letters he had received from him,
and wherein his villany was fully explained.
Judge what must be my feelings on finding
the man for whom I had sacrificed life, fortune,
reputation, everything that was dear, the most
abandoned wretch that had ever existed. ln
his last letter to Sheridan he had told him that
I had given him so much trouble that he had
the greatest inclination to give me up, but his
vanity would not let him do that without gaining
his point. He therefore said he was
resolved, the next time I met him, to throw off
the mask; . . . . but if I changed my mind,
and would not see him, he was resolved to
carry me off by force. The moment I read
this horrid letter I fainted, and it was some
time before I could recover my senses
sufficiently to thank Mr. Sheridan for his opening
my eyes. He said he had made Mathews
believe that he was equally infamous that he might
sooner know his designs, but he said it was not
in his power to appear on a friendly footing any
longer with such a villain. Mr. Sheridan then
asked me what I designed. I told him my mind
was in such a state of distraction between anger,
remorse, and fear, that I did not know what I
should do; but as Mathews had declared he
would ruin my reputation, I was resolved never
to stay in Bath."

Sheridan felt that, the flight once taken, her
love for him must increase, and that her heart
must soon be his. Her marriage must follow
such a step, let what obstacles that would, arise.
He proposed accompanying her to France and
placing her in a convent at St. Quentin, where
his sister had stayed four years. Once settled
there, tranquil and happy, Sheridan would
return and vindicate her conduct to the world.

The day of flight was to be the fatal Wednesday.
Miss Sheridan (afterwards Mrs. Lefanu)