“It is Rhea’s infant. "Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratifia and rosa solis. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. I could be presented as Meysey Hill. ‘I must, for that the pig has already gone to monsieur le baron. Oh! that I should live to be father-in-law to a peer of France! What would my poor wife say to it, if she could come to life again? Oh, Thames!—my lord marquis, I mean—you have made me the happiest—the proudest of mankind. That was how she projected it, and in general terms it seemed plausible and possible. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation.
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