to her imagination: she fancied that she saw in her looks the eagerness
of a satyr, or, if possible, of some monster still more odious; and
disengaging herself with the highest indignation from her arms, she began
to shriek and cry in the most terrible manner, calling both heaven and
earth to her assistance.

The first whom her cries raised were the governess and her niece. It was
near twelve o'clock at night: Miss Temple in her shift, almost frightened
to death, was pushing back with horror Miss Hobart, who approached her
with no other intent than to know the occasion of those transports. As
soon as the governess saw this scene, she began to lecture Miss Hobart
with all the eloquence of a real duenna: she demanded of her, whether she
thought it was for her that her royal highness kept the maids of honour?
whether she was not ashamed to come at such an unseasonable time of night
into their very apartments to commit such violences? and swore that she
would, the very next day, complain to the duchess. All this confirmed
Miss Temple in her mistaken notions: and Hobart was obliged to go away at
last, without being able to convince or bring to reason creatures, whom
she believed to be either distracted or mad. The next day Miss Sarah did
not fail to relate this adventure to her lover, telling him how Miss
Temple's cries had alarmed the maids of honour's apartment, and how
herself and her aunt, running to her assistance, had almost surprised
Miss Hobart in the very act.

Two days after, the whole adventure, with the addition of several
embellishments, was made public: the governess swore to the truth of it,
and related in every company what a narrow escape Miss Temple had
experienced, and that Miss Sarah, her niece, had preserved her honour,
because, by Lord Rochester's excellent advice, she had forbidden her
all manner of connection with so dangerous a person. Miss Temple was