Why do you not forward her letter ?--you are very cruel to keep it in durance here." "Me forward!" answered Mrs.Pott; "the cappernoity, old, girning alewife, may wait long enough or I forward it--She'll not loose the letters that come to her by the King's post, and she must go on troking wi' the old carrier, as if there was no post-house in the neighbourhood.
But the solicitor will be about wi' her one of these days." "Oh! you are too cruel--you really should send the love-letter; consider, the older she is, the poor soul has the less time to lose." But this was a topic on which Mrs.Pott understood no jesting.

She was well aware of our matron's inveteracy against her and her establishment, and she resented it as a placeman resents the efforts of a radical.

She answered something sulkily, "That they that loosed letters should have letters; and neither Luckie Dods, nor any of her lodgers, should ever see the scrape of a pen from the St.Ronan's office, that they did not call for and pay for." It is probable that this declaration contained the essence of the information which Lord Etherington had designed to extract by his momentary flirtation with Mrs.Pott; for when, retreating as it were from this sore subject, she asked him, in a pretty mincing tone, to try his skill in pointing out another love-letter, he only answered carelessly, "that in order to do that he must write her one;" and leaving his confidential station by her little throne, he lounged through the narrow shop, bowed slightly to Lady Penelope as he passed, and issued forth upon the parade, where he saw a spectacle which might well have appalled a man of less self-possession than himself.
Just as he left the shop, little Miss Digges entered almost breathless, with the emotion of impatience and of curiosity.

"Oh la! my lady, what do you stay here for ?--Mr.Tyrrel has just entered the other end of the parade this moment, and Lord Etherington is walking that way--they must meet each other .-- O lord! come, come away, and see them meet!--I wonder if they'll speak--I hope they won't fight--Oh la! do come, my lady!" "I must go with you, I find," said Lady Penelope; "it is the strangest thing, my love, that curiosity of yours about other folk's matters--I wonder what your mamma will say to it." "Oh! never mind mamma--nobody minds her--papa, nor nobody--Do come, dearest Lady Pen, or I will run away by myself .-- Mr.Chatterly, do make her come!" "I must come, it seems," said Lady Penelope, "or I shall have a pretty account of you." But, notwithstanding this rebuke, and forgetting, at the same time, that people of quality ought never to seem in a hurry, Lady Penelope, with such of her satellites as she could hastily collect around her, tripped along the parade with unusual haste, in sympathy, doubtless, with Miss Digges's curiosity, as her ladyship declared she had none of her own.
Our friend, the traveller, had also caught up Miss Digges's information; and, breaking off abruptly an account of the Great Pyramid, which had been naturally introduced by the mention of the Thebais, and echoing the fair alarmist's words, "hope they won't fight," he rushed upon the parade, and bustled along as hard as his sturdy supporters could carry him.

If the gravity of the traveller, and the delicacy of Lady Penelope, were surprised into unwonted haste from their eagerness to witness the meeting of Tyrrel and Lord Etherington, it may be well supposed that the decorum of the rest of the company was a slender restraint on their curiosity, and that they hurried to be present at the expected scene, with the alacrity of gentlemen of the fancy hastening to a set-to.
In truth, though the meeting afforded little sport to those who expected dire conclusions, it was, nevertheless, sufficiently interesting to those spectators who are accustomed to read the language of suppressed passion betraying itself at the moment when the parties are most desirous to conceal it.
Tyrrel had been followed by several loiterers so soon as he entered the public walk; and their number was now so much reinforced, that he saw himself with pain and displeasure the centre of a sort of crowd who watched his motions.