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keep them in their proper state of degradation. Lady Mary Burton and her aunt felt this much in passing from France towards Florence; for though, as Mary said, it would have been rather difficult to suspect either her aunt or herself of being carbonari, yet numerous were the delays and . inquiries they met in their route. But a disturbance of a more alarming nature inclined them still more to hurry their journey, although lady Anne Milsome could not proceed with that speed which would have been agreeable to her more youthful. companion. * At the slow pace they travelled, they calculated that Turin lay about a day's journey distant, when they arrived at a hittle village, which seemed to shelter itself under the giant mountains that shut out Italy from encroaching France. Here it had been proposed that they should make their abode for the night; but the im was so miserable, and the people appeared

peared so ferocious, that Mary took alarm at the savage countenances she saw around her, and easily persuaded her aunt to pro

ceed to the next stage. The horses had been taken from the carriage in the first instance, and while the people were occupied in bringing others and harnessing them, a stranger came from the inn, mounted a stout grey horse, that stood saddled close by, and rode away, at the same time looking into the carriage, in a manner that made Mary remark him more particularly than she had done at first, and the idea instantly passed across her mind, that his face was not unknown to her. He rode on so quickly, that she had no opportunity of satisfying herself in regard to who it was, except by inquiring at the inn, which she desired their courier to do, to whom the landlord only replied—“A friend of mine,” which was quite enough to assure Mary that he was no acquaintance of hers, and glad to find herself likely to be soon again en route towards a more frequented part of the country, she took no further notice, and soon forgot the circumstance

entirely. When they had proceeded about a mile, however, the carriage suddenly stopped, and the very man that she had seen ride from the inn now came up to the window, with the courier, informing them, in Italian, that the road was so bad a little farther on, that a cart had been upset in it, and consequently, as it remained there still, it would be impossible for them to proceed till it was removed. Lady Mary had now a full view of the stranger; and though his appearance was altered as much as possible, by immense mustaches, and a total change of dress, and though his language had now become Italian, she instantly recognised in him the man who had attacked her in the park at Ilfracombe. Mary was naturally timid, but at the same time she had a great deal of selfcommand; and though she was ready to sink with fear, she found that this was no time to give way to her apprehensions; lady Anne she knew was even more easily alarmed than herself, and therefore, without saying any thing of the discovery she had made, she desired the courier to make the drivers remove the cart that obstructed the way, and proceed at any rate. But here also she was foiled. It was drawing near evening—the drivers refused to make the attempt, and vowed they would return; while the stranger, thinking from her manner that she did not remember him, endeavoured to persuade her that it would be best for them to return to the village. Of course his eloquence had, as eloquence sometimes has, a quite contrary effect from what he intended, and only strengthened her desire to proceed; and she did every thing she could to induce the men to go on; but she promised and she threatened equally in vain—they were as obstinate as mules; and at length lady Anne joined in with the general cry, and

said, she thought they had better go back. Mary was scarcely then inclined to yield; but the drivers decided the matter themselves, by turning the carriage round, and proceeding towards the inn. Mary's speculations, as they returned, were not of the most pleasant description. The idea of remaining in the neighbourhood of a man who had once made such an unaccountable attack upon her, and who still seemed to pursue her, for some reason unexplained, was quite enough in itself to alarm her: nor could she suppose but that the whole business of the stoppage on the road, and the obstinacy of the drivers, was a part of the same plan, whose ultimate object was, in all probability, to murder them. Neither could she feel any confidence in the innkeeper, who seemed evidently a colleague of the man she most feared. However, she arranged, in her own mind, as the only thing she could do, to make the courier and footman sit up armed all night, but resolved - not

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