 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Nicole Duhlin on the web at NicoleDuhlin.com Malflanders by Daniel Defoe. Section 11 I was now a single person again. As I may call myself, I was loosed from all the obligations either of wedlock or mistresseship in the world. Except my husband, the linen draper, whom I having not now heard from in almost fifteen years, nobody could blame me for thinking myself entirely free from, seeing also he had it as going away told me that if I did not hear frequently from him, I should conclude he was dead, and I might freely marry again to whom I pleased. I now began to cast up my accounts, I had by many letters and much importunity, and with the intercession of my mother too, had a second return of some goods from my brother, as I now call him, in Virginia. To make up the damage of the cargo I brought away with me, and this too was upon the condition of my sealing a general release to him to send it him by his correspondent at Bristol, which, though I thought hard of, yet I was obliged to promise to do. However, I managed so well in this case that I got my goods away before the release was signed, and then I always found something or other to say to evade the thing and to put off the signing it at all, till at length I pretended I must write to my brother and have his answer before I could do it. Including this recruit, and before I got the last fifty pounds, I found my strength to amount, put all together, to about four hundred pounds, so that with that I had about four hundred and fifty pounds. I had saved above one hundred pounds more, but I met with a disaster with that, which was this, that a goldsmith in whose hands I had trusted it, broke. So I lost seventy pounds of my money, the man's composition not making above thirty pounds out of his one hundred pounds. I had a little plate, but not much, and was well enough stocked with clothes and linen. With this stock I had the world to begin again, but you are to consider that I was not now the same woman as when I lived at Redriff, for, first of all, I was near twenty years older and did not look the better for my age, nor for my rambles to Virginia and back again, and though I omitted nothing that might set me out to advantage except painting, for that I never stooped to, and had pride enough to think I did not want it, yet there would always be some difference seen between five and twenty and two and forty. I cast about innumerable ways for my future state of life, and began to consider very seriously what I should do, but nothing offered. I took care to make the world take me for something more than I was, and had it given out that I was a fortune, and that my estate was in my own hands, the last of which was very true, the first of it was as above, I had no acquaintance which was one of my worst misfortunes, and the consequence of that was I had no adviser, at least one who could assist and advise together, and above all, I had nobody to whom I could in confidence commit the secret of my circumstances to, and could depend upon for their secrecy and fidelity, and I found by experience that to be friendless in the worst condition next to being in want that a woman can be reduced to, I say a woman, because just evident men can be their own advisers, and their own directors, and know how to work themselves out of difficulties and into business better than women, but if a woman has no friend to communicate her affairs to, and to advise and assist her, just ten to one but she is undone, nay. And the more money she has, the more danger she is in of being wronged and deceived, and this was my case in the affair of the one hundred pounds which I left in the hands of the goldsmith, as above, whose credit it seems, was upon the ebb before, but I, that had no knowledge of things and nobody to consult with, knew nothing of it, and so lost my money. In the next place, when a woman is thus left desolate and void of counsel, she is just like a bag of money or a jewel dropped on the highway, which is a prey to the next comer. If a man of virtue and upright principles happens to find it, he will have it cried, and the owner may come to hear of it again, but how many times shall such a thing fall into hands that will make no scruple of seizing it for their own to once that it shall come into good hands? This was evidently my case, for I was now a loose, unguided creature, and had no help, no assistance, no guide for my conduct. I knew what I aimed at, and what I wanted, but knew nothing how to pursue the end by direct means. I wanted to be placed in a settled state of living, and had I happened to meet with a sober, good husband, I should have been as faithful and true a wife to him as virtue itself could have formed, if I had been otherwise. The vice came in always at the door of necessity, not at the door of inclination, and I understood too well by the want of it what the value of a settled life was to do anything to forfeit the felicity of it. Nay, I should have made the better wife for all the difficulties I had passed through by a great deal, nor did I in any of the times that I had been a wife, given my husband's the least uneasiness on account of my behaviour. But all this was nothing. I found no encouraging prospect. I waited, I lived regularly, and with as much frugality as became my circumstances, but nothing offered, nothing presented, and the main stock wasted apace. What to do I knew not? The terror of approaching poverty lay hard upon my spirits. I had some money, but where to place it I knew not, nor would the interest of it maintain me, at least not in London. At length a new scene opened. There was in the house where I lodged a North Country woman, that went for a gentle woman, and nothing was more frequent in her discourse, than her account of the cheapness of provisions and the easy way of living in her country, how plentiful and how cheap everything was, what good company they kept and the like, till at last I told her, she almost tempted me to go and live in her country, for I that was a widow, though I had sufficient to live on, yet had no way of increasing it, and that I found I could not live here under one hundred pounds a year, unless I kept no company, no servant, made no appearance, and buried myself in privacy, as if I was obliged to it by necessity. I should have observed that she was always made to believe, as everybody else was, that I was a great fortune, or at least that I had three or four thousand pounds, if not more, and all in my own hands. And she was mighty sweet upon me, when she thought me inclined in the least to go into her country. She said she had a sister live near Liverpool, that her brother was a considerable gentleman there, a great estate also in Ireland, that she would go down there in about two months, and if I would give her my company thither, I should be as welcome as herself for a month or more as I pleased, till I should see how I liked the country, and if I thought fit to live there, she would undertake, they would take care, though they did not entertain lodgers themselves, they would recommend me to some agreeable family, where I should be placed to my content. If this woman had known my real circumstances, she would never have laid so many snares, and taken so many weary steps to catch a poor, desolate creature, that was good for little when it was caught. And indeed I, whose case was almost desperate, and thought I could not be much worse, was not very anxious about what might befall me, provided they did me no personal injury. So I suffered myself, though not without a great deal of invitation and great professions of sincere friendship and real kindness. I say I suffered myself to be prevailed upon to go with her, and accordingly I packed up my baggage, and put myself in a posture for a journey, though I did not absolutely know whither I was to go. Now I found myself in great distress, what little I had in the world was all in money, except as before, a little plate, some linen, and my clothes, as for my household stuff, I had little or none, for I had lived always in lodgings, but I had not one friend in the world with whom to trust that little I had, or to direct me how to dispose of it, and this perplexed me night and day. I thought of the bank, and of the other companies in London, but I had no friend to commit the management of it too, and keep and carry about with me bank bills, tallies, orders, and such things. I looked upon it as unsafe, that if they were lost, my money was lost. And then I was undone, and on the other hand, I might be robbed and perhaps murdered in a strange place for them. This perplexed me strangely, and what to do I knew not. It came in my thoughts one morning, that I would go to the bank myself, where I had often been to receive the interest of some bills I had, which had interest payable on them, and where I found a clerk to whom I applied myself, very honest and just to me, particularly so fair one time, that when I had mis-told my money, and taken less than my due, and was coming away, he set me to rights and gave me the rest, which he might have put into his own pocket. I went to him and represented my case very plainly, and asked if he would trouble himself to be my adviser, who was a poor friendless widow, and knew not what to do. He told me, if I desired his opinion of anything within the reach of his business, he would do his endeavour that I should not be wronged, but that he would also help me to a good sober person who was a grave man of his acquaintance, who was a clerk in such business too, though not in their house, whose judgment was good, and whose honesty I might depend upon. For, added he, I will answer for him, and for every step he takes. If he wrongs you, madam, of one farthing, it shall lie at my door. I will make it good. And he delights to assist people in such cases, if he does it as an act of charity. I was a little at a stand in this discourse, but after some pause I told him I had rather have depended upon him, because I had found him honest, but if that could not be, I would take his recommendations sooner than anyone else's. I dare say, madam, says he, that you will be as well satisfied with my friend as with me, and he is thoroughly able to assist you, which I am not. It seems he had his hands full of the business of the bank, and had engaged to meddle with no other business than that of his office, which I heard afterwards, but did not understand then. He added that his friend should take nothing of me for his advice or assistance, and this indeed encouraged me very much. He appointed the same evening after the bank was shut and business over for me to meet him and his friend, and indeed as soon as I saw his friend, and he began but to talk of the affair, I was fully satisfied that I had a very honest man to deal with. His countenance spoke it, and his character, as I heard afterwards, was everywhere so good that I had no room for any more doubts upon me. After the first meeting, in which I only said what I had said before, we parted, and he appointed me to come the next day to him, telling me I might in the meantime satisfy myself of him by inquiry, which, however, I knew not how well to do, having no acquaintance myself. Accordingly I met him the next day, when I entered more freely with him into my case. I told him my circumstances at large, that I was a widow come over from America, perfectly desolate and friendless, that I had a little money, and but a little, and was almost distracted for fear of losing it, having no friend in the world to trust with the management of it, that I was going into the north of England to live cheap, that my stock might not waste, that I would willingly lodge my money in the bank, but that I durst not carry the bills about me, and the like, as above, and how to correspond with it or with whom I knew not. He told me I might lodge the money in the bank as an account, and its being entered into the books would entitle me to the money at any time, and if I was in the north I might draw bills on the cashier, and receive it when I would, but that then it would be esteemed as running cash, and the bank would give no interest for it, that I might buy stock with it, and so it would lie in store for me, but that then if I wanted to dispose of it, I must come up to town on purpose to transfer it, and even it would be with some difficulty I should receive the half yearly dividend. Unless I was here in person or had some friend I could trust with having the stock and his name to do it for me, and that would have the same difficulty in it as before. And with that he looked hard at me and smiled a little, at last says he, Why do you not get a heads to it, madam? That may take you and your money together into keeping, and then you would have the trouble taken off your hands. Aye, sir, and the money too it may be, said I, for truly I find the hazard that way is as much as to stutter way, but I remember I said secretly to myself, I wish he would ask me the question fairly, I would consider very seriously on it before I said no. He went on a good way with me, and I thought once or twice he was an earnest, but to my real affliction I found at last he had a wife, but when he owned he had a wife he shook his head and said with some concern that indeed he had a wife and no wife. I began to think he had been in the condition of my late lover, and that his wife had been distempered or lunatic or some such thing. However we had not much more discourse at that time, but he told me he was in too much hurry of business then, but that if I would come home to his house after their business was over he would by that time consider what might be done for me. To put my affairs in a posture of security, I told him I would come, and desired to know where he lived. He gave me a direction in writing, and when he gave it me he read it to me and said, Birtis Madam, if you dare trust yourself with me, yes sir, said I, I believe I may venture to trust you with myself, or you have a wife, you say, and I don't want a husband. But besides I dare trust you with my money, which is all I have in the world, and if that were gone I may trust myself anywhere. He said some things in jest that were very handsome and mannerly, and would have pleased me very well if they had been in earnest. But that passed over. I took the directions and appointed to attend him at his house at seven o'clock the same evening. When I came he made several proposals for my placing my money in the bank, in order to my having interest for it, but still some difficulty or other came in the way, which he objected as not safe, and I found such a sincere disinterested honesty in him, that I began to muse with myself, that I had certainly found the honest man I wanted, and that I could never put myself into better hands, so I told him with a great deal of frankness, that I had never met with a man or woman yet that I could trust, or in whom I could think myself safe, but that I saw he was so disinterestedly concerned for my safety, that I said I would freely trust him with the management of that little I had. If he would accept to be steward for a poor widow that could give him no salary, he smiled and, standing up with great respect, saluted me. He told me he could not but take it very kindly that I had so good an opinion of him, that he would not deceive me, that he would do anything in his power to serve me, and expect no salary, but that he could not by any means accept of a trust, that it might bring him to be suspected of self-interest, and that if I should die he might have disputes with my executors, which he should be very loath to encumber himself with. I told him if those were all his objections I would soon remove them, and convince him that there was not the least room for any difficulty. For that first, as for suspecting him, if ever I should do it, now is the time to suspect him and not put the trust into his hands, and whenever I did suspect him, he could but throw it up then and refuse to go any further. I assured him I had no heirs, nor any relations in England, and I should alter my condition before I died, and then his trust and trouble should cease together, which, however, I had no prospect of yet. But I told him if I died as I was, it should be all his own, and he would deserve it by being so faithful to me as I was satisfied he would be. He changed his countenance at this discourse and asked me how I came to have so much good will for him, and, looking very much pleased, said he might very lawfully wish he was a single man for my sake. I smiled and told him as he was not, my offer could have no design upon him in it, and to wish, as he did, was not to be allowed, it was criminal to his wife. He told me I was wrong, for, says he, Madam, as I said before, I have a wife and no wife, and it would be no sin to me to wish her hanged, if that were all. I know nothing of your circumstances that way, sir, said I. But it cannot be innocent to wish her wife dead. I tell you, says he again, she is a wife and no wife. You don't know what I am or what she is. That's true, said I. Sir, I do not know what you are. But I believe you to be an honest man, and that's the cause of all my confidence in you. Well, well, says he, and so I am, I hope too. But I am something else too, Madam, for, says he, to be playing with you. I am a cuckold and gee is a whore. He spoke it in a kind of jest, but it was with such an awkward smile that I perceived it was what struck very close to him, and he looked dismally when he said it. That all just the case indeed, sir, said I. As to that part you were speaking of, but a cuckold, you know, may be an honest man, it does not alter that case at all. Besides, I think, said I, since your wife is so dishonest to you. You are too honest to her to own her for your wife. But that, said I, is what I have nothing to do with. Nay, says he, do not think to clear my hands of her for to be playing with you, Madam, added he. I am no contented cuckold neither. On the other hand, I assure you it provokes me the highest degree, but I can't help myself. She that will be a whore will be a whore. I waved the discourse and began to talk of my business, but I found he could not have done with it. So I let him alone, and he went on to tell me all the circumstances of his case too long to relate here, particularly that having been out of England some time before he came to the post he was in, she had had two children in the meantime by an officer of the army, and that when he came to England and upon her submission took her again and maintained her very well. Yet she ran away from him with a linen draper's apprentice, robbed him of what she could come at, and continued to live from him still. So that, Madam, says he, she is a whore, not by necessity, which is the common bait of your sex, but by inclination and for the sake of the vice. Well, I pitied him and wished him well rid of her, and still would have talked of my business, but it would not do, at last he looked steadily at me. Look you, Madam, says he, you came to ask advice of me, and I will serve you as faithfully as if you were my own sister, but I must turn the tables, since you obliged me to do it, and are so friendly to me, and I think I must ask advice of you, tell me, what must a poor abused fellow do with a whore? What can I do to do myself just as upon her? Alas, sir, says I, just a case too nice for me to advise in, but it seems she has run away from you. So you are rid of her fairly, what can you desire more? I, she is gone indeed, said he, but I am not clear of her for all that. That's true, says I, she may indeed run you into debt, but the law has furnished you with methods to prevent that also. You may cry her down, as they call it. No, no, says he, that is not the case neither, I have taken care of all that. Just not that part that I speak of, but I would be rid of her so that I might marry again. Well, sir, says I, then you must divorce her. If you can prove what you say, you may certainly get that done, and then I suppose you are free. That's very tedious and expensive, says he. I, says I, if you can get any woman you like to take your word, I suppose your wife would not dispute the liberty with you that she takes herself. I, says he, but would be hard to bring an honest woman to do that. And for the other sort, says he, I have had enough of her to meddle with any more whores. It occurred to me presently, I would have taken your word with all my heart if you had but asked me the question, but that was to myself. To him I replied, why, you shut the door against any honest woman accepting you, for you condemn all that should venture upon you at once, and conclude that really a woman that takes you now can't be honest. Why, says he, I wish you would satisfy me that an honest woman would take me. I'd venture it, and then he turned short upon me. Will you take me, madam? That's not a fair question, says I. After what you have said, however, lest you should think I wait only for a recantation of it, I shall answer you plainly. No, not I. My business is of another kind with you, and I did not expect you would have turned my serious application to you in my own distracted case into a comedy. Why, madam, says he, my case is as distracted as yours can be, and I stand in as much need of advice as you do, for I think, if I have not relief somewhere, I shall be made myself, and I know not what course to take I protest to you. Why, sir, says I, it is easy to give advice in your case, much easier than it is in mine. Speak, then, says he, I beg of you for now you encourage me. Why, says I, if your case is so plain as you say it is, you may be legally divorced, and then you may find honest women enough to ask the question of fairly, the sex is not so scarce that you can want a wife. Well, then, said he, I am in earnest, I'll take your advice, but shall I ask you one question seriously beforehand? Any question, said I, but that you did before? No, that answer will not do, said he, for, in short, that is the question I shall ask. You may ask what questions you please, but you have my answer to that already, said I. Besides, sir, said I, can you think so ill of me that as I would give any answer to such a question beforehand? Can any woman alive believe you, in earnest, or think you designed anything but to banter her? Oh, well, says he, I do not banter you, I am in earnest, consider of it. But, sir, says I, a little gravely, I came to you about my own business. Beg of you to let me know what you will advise me to do, I will be prepared, says he, against you come again. Nay, says I, you have forbid my coming any more. Why so, said he, and looked a little surprised, because, said I, you can't expect I should visit you on the account you talk of. Well, says he, you shall promise me to come again, however, and I will not say any more of it till I have gotten the divorce, but I desire you will prepare to be better conditioned when that's done. For you shall be the woman, or I will not be divorced at all. Why, I owe it to your unlooked-for kindness, if it were to nothing else, but I have other reasons too. He could not have said anything in the world that pleased me better. However, I knew that the way to secure him was to stand off while the thing was so remote, as it appeared to be, and that it was time enough to accept of it when he was able to perform it. So I said very respectfully to him. It was time enough to consider of these things when he was in a condition to talk of them. In the meantime, I told him I was going a great way from him, and he would find objects enough to please him better. We broke off here for the present, and he made me promise him to come again the next day. For his resolutions upon my own business, which, after some pressing I did, though had he seen father into me, I wanted no pressing on that account. End of section 11, recorded by Nicole Duhlin on the web at NicoleDuhlin.com This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Nicole Duhlin on the web at NicoleDuhlin.com Malflanders by Daniel Defoe Section 12 I came the next evening, accordingly, and brought my maid with me, to let him see that I kept a maid. But I sent her away as soon as I was gone in. He would have had me let my maid have stayed, but I would not, but ordered her aloud to come for me again about nine o'clock. But he forbade me that and told me he would see me safe home, which, by the way, I was not very well pleased with, supposing he might do that to know where I lived and inquire into my character and circumstances. However, I ventured that, for all that the people there or there about knew of me was to my advantage. And all the character he had of me, after he had inquired, was that I was a woman of fortune and that I was a very modest, sober body, which, whether true or not in the main, yet you may see how necessary it is for all women who expect anything in the world to preserve the character of their virtue, even when perhaps they may have sacrificed the thing itself. I found and was not a little pleased with it, that he had provided a supper for me. I found also he lived very handsomely and had a house very handsomely furnished, all of which I was rejoiced at indeed, for I looked upon it as all my own. We had now a second conference upon the subject matter of the last conference. He laid his business very home indeed. He protested his affection to me, and indeed I had no room to doubt it. I feared that it began from the first moment I talked with him, and long before I had mentioned leaving my effects with him. Just no matter when it began, thought I, if it will but hold, it will be well enough. He then told me how much the offer I had made of trusting him with my effects, and leaving them to him, had engaged him. So I intended it should, thought I, but then I thought you had been a single man too. After we had supped, I observed he pressed me very hard to drink two or three glasses of wine, which, however, I declined, but drank one glass or two. He then told me he had a proposal to make me, which I should promise him I would not take ill if I should not grant it. I told him I hoped he would make no dishonourable proposal to me, especially in his own house, that if it was such, I desired he would not propose it, that I might not be obliged to offer any resentment to him that did not become the respect I professed for him, and the trust I had placed in him in coming to his house, and begged of him he would give me leave to go away, and accordingly began to put on my gloves and prepare to be gone, though at the same time I no more intended it than he intended to let me. Well, he importuned me not to talk of going. He assured me he had no dishonourable thing in his thoughts about me, and was very far from offering anything to me that was dishonourable, and if I thought so, he would choose to say no more of it. That part I did not relish at all. I told him I was ready to hear anything that he had to say, depending that he would say nothing unworthy of himself, or unfit for me to hear. Upon this he told me his proposal was this, that I would marry him, though he had not yet obtained the divorce from the whore his wife, and to satisfy me that he meant honourably. He would promise not to desire me to live with him, or go to bed with him till the divorce was obtained. My heart said yes to this offer at first word, but it was necessary to play the hypocrite a little more with him, so I seemed to decline the motion with some warmth. And besides a little condemning the thing as unfair told him that such a proposal could be of no signification, but to entangle us both in great difficulties, for if he should not at last obtain the divorce, yet we could not dissolve the marriage. Neither could we proceed in it, so that if he was disappointed in the divorce, I left him to consider what a condition we should both be in. In short, I carried on the argument against this so far that I convinced him it was not a proposal that had any sense in it. Well, then he went from it to another, and that was, that I would sign and seal a contract with him. Conditioning to marry him as soon as the divorce was obtained, and to be void if he could not obtain it. I told him such a thing was more rational than the other, but as this was the first time that ever I could imagine him weak enough to be an earnest in this affair, I did not use to say yes at first asking. I would consider of it. I played with this lover as an angler does with a trout. I found I had him fast on the hook, so I gested with his new proposal and put him off. I told him he knew little of me, and bade him inquire about me. I let him also go home with me to my lodging, though I would not ask him to go in, for I told him it was not decent. In short, I ventured to avoid signing a contract of marriage, and the reason why I did it was because the lady that had invited me so earnestly to go with her into Lancashire insisted so positively upon it, and promised me such great fortunes and such fine things there that I was tempted to go and try. Perhaps, said I, I may mend myself very much, and then I made no scruple in my thoughts of quitting my honest citizen, whom I was not so much in love with as not to leave him for a richer. In a word, I avoided a contract, but told him I would go into the north, that he should know where to write to me by the consequence of the business I had entrusted with him, that I would give him a sufficient pledge of my respect for him. For I would leave almost all I had in the world in his hands, and I would thus far give him my word, that as soon as he had sued out a divorce from his first wife, he would send me in account of it. I would come up to London, and that then we would talk seriously of the matter. It was a base design I went with, that I must confess, though I was invited thither with a design much worse than mine was, as the sequel will discover. Well, I went with my friend, as I called her, into Lancashire. All the way we went, she caressed me with the utmost appearance of the sincere, undisimpled affection, treated me, except my co-chire, all the way, and her brother brought a gentleman's couch to Warrington to receive us. And we were carried from thence to Liverpool with as much ceremony as I could desire. We were also entertained at a merchant's house in Liverpool three or four days very handsomely. I forbade to tell his name because of what followed. Then she told me she would carry me to an uncle's house of hers, where we should be nobly entertained. She did so, her uncle, as she called him, sent a coach and four horses for us. And we were carried near forty miles, I know not whither. We came, however, to a gentleman's seat, where was a numerous family, a large park, extraordinary company indeed, and where she was called cousin. I told her if she had resolved to bring me into such company as this. She should have let me have prepared myself, and have furnished myself with better clothes. The ladies took no notice of that, and told me very gently, they did not value people in their country so much by their clothes as they did in London, that their cousin had fully informed them of my quality, and that I did not want clothes to set me off. In short, they entertained me not like what I was, but like what they thought I had been, namely, a widow-lady of great fortune. The first discovery I made here was that the family were all Roman Catholics, and the cousin, too, whom I called my friend. However, I must say that nobody in the world could have behaved better to me, and I had all the civility shown me that I could have had if I had been of their opinion. The truth is, I had not so much principle of any kind as to be nice in point of religion, and I presently learned to speak favourably of the Romish Church. Particularly, I told them I saw little but the prejudice of education in all the difference that were among Christians about religion. And if it had so happened that my father had been a Roman Catholic, I doubted not, but I should have been as well pleased with their religion as my own. I obliged them in the highest degree, and as I was besieged day and night with good company and pleasant discourse, so I had two or three old ladies that lay at me upon the subject of religion, too. I was so complacent that though I would not completely engage, yet I made no scruple to be present at their mass, and to conform to all their gestures as they showed me the pattern. But I would not come too cheap, so that I only in the main encouraged them to expect that I would turn Roman Catholic, if I was instructed in the Catholic doctrine as they called it, and so the matter rested. I stayed here about six weeks, and then my conductor led me back to a country village, about six miles from Liverpool, where her brother, as she called him, came to visit me in his own chariot, and in a very good figure, with two footmen in a good livery. And the next thing was to make love to me. As it had happened to me, one would think I could not have been cheated, and indeed I thought so myself, having a safe card at home which I resolved not to quit, unless I could mend myself very much. However, in all appearance, this brother was a match worth my listening to, and the least his estate was valued at was one thousand pounds a year, but the sister said it was worth fifteen hundred pounds a year, and lay most of it in Ireland. I, that was a great fortune, and passed for such, was above being asked how much my estate was, and my false friend, taking it upon a foolish hearsay, had raised it from five hundred pounds to five thousand pounds, and by the time she came into the country she called it fifteen thousand pounds. The Irishman, for such I understood him to be, was stark mad at this bait. In short, he courted me, made me presence, and ran in debt like a madman for the expenses of his equipage and of his courtship. He had, to give him his due, the appearance of an extraordinary fine gentleman. He was tall, well-shaped, and had an extraordinary address, talked as naturally of his park and his stables, of his horses, his gamekeepers, his woods, his tenants, and his servants, as if we had been in the mansion house, and I had seen them all about me. He never so much as asked me about my fortune or estate, but assured me that when we came to Dublin he would jointure me in six hundred pounds a year good land, and that we could enter into a deed of settlement or contract here for the performance of it. This was such language indeed as I had not been used to, and I was here beaten out of all my measures. I had a she-devil in my bosom, every hour telling me how great her brother lived. One time she would come for my orders, how I would have my coaches painted, and how lined, and another time what clothes my page should wear. Hint short, my eyes were dazzled. I had now lost my power of saying no, and to cut the story short, I consented to be married. But to be the more private, we were carried farther into the country and married by a Romish clergyman, who I was assured would marry us as effectually as a church of England parson. I cannot say but I had some reflections in this affair upon the dishonourable forsaking my faithful citizen, who loved me sincerely, and who was endeavouring to quit himself of a scandalous whore by whom he had been indeed barbarously used and promised himself infinite happiness in his new choice. Which choice was now giving up herself to another in a manner almost as scandalous as hers could be? But the glittering shoe of a great estate, and of fine things, which the deceived creature that was now my deceiver represented every hour to my imagination, hurried me away, and gave me no time to think of London, or of anything there, much less of the obligation I had to a person of infinitely more real merit than what was now before me. But the thing was done. I was now in the arms of my new spouse, who appeared still the same as before. Great even to magnificence! And nothing less than one thousand pounds a year could support the ordinary equipage he appeared in, after we had been married about a month. He began to talk of my going to Westchester in order to embark for Ireland. However he did not hurry me, for we stayed there near three weeks longer, and then he sent to Chester for a coach to meet us at the Black Rock, as they call it. Over against Liverpool, further we went in a fine boat they call a pinnace, with six oars, his servants and horses and baggage going in the ferry boat. He made his excuse to me that he had no acquaintance in Chester, but he would go before and get some handsome apartment for me at a private house. I asked him now how long we should stay at Chester. He said not at all, any longer than one night or two, but he would immediately hire a coach to go to Holyhead. Then I told him he should by no means give himself the trouble to get private lodgings, for one night or two, for that Chester being a great place. I made no doubt but that there would be very good inns at accommodation enough. So we lodged at an inn in the West Street, not far from the cathedral. I forgot what sign it was at. Here my spouse, talking of my going to Ireland, asked me if I had no affairs to settle at London before we went off. I told him no, not of any great consequence, but what might be done as well by letter from Dublin. Madam says he, very respectfully, I suppose the greatest part of your estate, which my sister tells me is most of it in money in the Bank of England, lies secure enough, but in case it required transferring, or any way altering its property, it might be necessary to go up to London and settle those things before we went over. I seemed to look strange at it, and told him I knew not what he meant, that I had no effects in the Bank of England that I knew of, and I hoped he could not say that I had ever told him I had. No, he said, I had not told him so, but his sister had said the greatest part of my estate lay there. And I only mentioned it, my dear, said he, that if there was any occasion to settle it, or order anything about it, we might not be obliged to the hazard and trouble of another voyage back again, for, he added, that he did not care to venture me too much upon the sea. I was surprised at this talk, and began to consider very seriously what the meaning of it must be, and it presently occurred to me that my friend, who called him brother, had represented me in colours which were not my due, and I thought, since it was come to that pitch, that I would know the bottom of it before I went out of England, and before I should put myself into I knew not whose hands in a strange country. Upon this I called his sister into my chamber the next morning, and letting her know the discourse her brother and I had been upon the evening before, I conjured her to tell me what she had said to him, and upon what foot it was that she had made this marriage. She owned that she had told him that I was a great fortune, and said that she was told so at London. Told so, says I warmly. Did I ever tell you so? No, she said. It was true I did not tell her so, but I had said several times that what I had was in my own disposal. I did so, returned I very quickly and hastily, but I never told you I had anything called a fortune. No, not that I had one hundred pounds, or the value of one hundred pounds in the world. And how did it consist with my being a fortune, said I, that I should come here into the north of England with you, only upon the account of living cheap. At these words, which I spoke warm and high, my husband, her brother, as she called him, came into the room, and I desired him to come and sit down, for I had something of moment to say before them both, which it was absolutely necessary he should hear. He looked a little disturbed at the assurance with which I seemed to speak it, and came and sat down by me, having first shut the door, upon which I began, for I was very much provoked, and turning myself to him. I am afraid, says I, my dear, for I spoke with kindness on his side, that you have a very great abuse put upon you, and an injury done you never to be repaired in your marrying me, which, however, as I have had no hand in it, I desire I may be fairly acquitted of it, and that the blame may lie where it ought to lie, and nowhere else, for I wash my hands of every part of it. What injury can be done me, my dear, says he, in marrying you, I hope it is to my honour and advantage every way. I will soon explain it to you, says I, and I fear you will have no reason to think yourself well used, but I will convince you, my dear, says I again, that I have had no hand in it. And there I stopped awhile. He looked now scared and wild, and began, I believe, to suspect what followed. However, looking towards me and saying only, go on, he sat silent, as if to hear what I had more to say, so I went on. I asked you last night, said I, speaking to him, if ever I made any boast to you of my estate, or ever told you I had any estate in the bank of England, or anywhere else, and you owned I had not, as is most true, and I desire you will tell me here, before your sister, if ever I gave you any reason from me to think so, or that ever we had any discourse about it. And he owned again I had not, but said I had appeared always as a woman of fortune, and he depended on it that I was so, and hoped he was not deceived. I am not inquiring yet whether you have been deceived or not, said I, I fear you have, and I too. But I am clearing myself from the unjust charge of being concerned and deceiving you. I have been now asking your sister, if ever I told her of any fortune or estate I had, or gave her any particulars of it, and she owns I never did. And pray, madam, said I, turning myself to her, be so just to me before your brother, to charge me if you can, if ever I pretended to you that I had an estate, and why if I had, should I come down into this country with you on purpose, to spare that little I had, and live cheap? She could not deny one word, but said she had been told in London that I had a very great fortune, and that it lay in the Bank of England. And now, dear sir, said I, turning myself to my new spouse again, be so just to me as to tell me who has abused both you and me so much, as to make you believe I was a fortune, and prompt you to court me to this marriage. He could not speak a word but pointed to her, and after some more pause, flew out in the most furious passion that ever I saw a man in my life, cursing her and calling her all the whores and hard names he could think of. And that she had ruined him, declaring that she had told him I had fifteen thousand pounds, and that she was to have five hundred pounds of him for procuring this match for him. He then added, directing his speech to me, that she was none of his sister, but had been his whore for two years before, that she had had one hundred pounds of him in part of this bargain, and that he was utterly undone if things were as I said, and in his ravings he swore he would let her hearts blood out immediately, which frightened her and me too. She cried, said she had been told so in the house where I lodged, but this aggravated him more than before, that she should put so far upon him and run things such a length upon no other authority than a hearsay, and then, turning to me again, said very honestly, He was afraid we were both undone. For, to be plain, my dear, I have no estate, says he. What little I had, this devil has made me run out and wading on you and putting me into this equipage. She took the opportunity of his being earnest and talking with me, and got out of the room. And I never saw her more. I was confounded now as much as he, and knew not what to say. I thought many ways that I had the worst of it. But his saying he was undone, and that he had no estate neither, put me into a mere distraction. Why, says I to him, this has been a hellish juggle, for we are married here upon the foot of a double fraud. You are undone by the disappointment, it seems, and if I had had a fortune I had been cheated too, for you say you have nothing, you would indeed have been cheated, my dear, says he. But you would not have been undone. For fifteen thousand pounds would have maintained us both very handsomely in this country, and I assure you, added he, I had resolved to have dedicated every groat of it to you. I would not have wronged you of a shilling, and the rest I would have made up in my affection to you, and tenderness of you. As long as I lived this was very honest indeed, and I really believe he spoke as he intended, and that he was a man that was as well qualified to make me happy, as to his temper and behaviour, as any man ever was. But his having no estate, and being run into debt on this ridiculous account in the country, made all the prospect dismal and dreadful, and I knew not what to say, or what to think of myself. I told him it was very unhappy that so much love, and so much good nature as I discovered in him, should be thus precipitated into misery, that I saw nothing before us but ruin, for as to me, it was my unhappiness that what little I had was not able to relieve us weak, and with that I pulled out a bank-bill of twenty pounds in eleven guineas, which I told him I had saved out of my little income, and that by the account that creature had given me of the way of living in that country, I expected it would maintain me three or four years, that if it was taken from me, I was left destitute, and he knew what the condition of a woman amongst strangers must be, if she had no money in her pocket. However, I told him, if he would take it, there it was. He told me with a great concern, and I thought I saw tears stand in his eyes, that he would not touch it, that he abhorred the thoughts of stripping me and making me miserable, that, on the contrary, he had fifty guineas left, which was all he had in the world, and he pulled it out and threw it down on the table, bidding me take it, though he were to star for want of it. I returned with the same concern for him, that I could not bear to hear him talk so, that, on the contrary, if he could propose any probable method of living, I would do anything that became me on my part, and that I would live as close and as narrow as he could desire. He begged of me to talk no more at that rate, for it would make him distracted, he said he was bred a gentleman, though he was reduced to a low fortune, and that there was but one way left which he could think of, and that would not do, unless I could answer him one question, which, however, he said he would not press me to. I told him I would answer it honestly, whether it would be to his satisfaction or not, that I could not tell, why then, my dear, tell me plainly, says he, will the little you have keep us together in any figure, or in any station or place, or will it not? It was my happiness hitherto, that I had not discovered myself or my circumstances at all. No, not so much as my name, and seeing there was nothing to be expected from him. However good-humoured, and however honest he seemed to be, but to live on what I knew would soon be wasted. I resolved to conceal everything but the bank-bill, and the eleven guineas, which I had owned, and I would have been very glad to have lost that, and had been set down where he took me up. I had indeed another bank-bill about me of thirty pounds, which was the whole of what I brought with me, as well to subsist on in the country, as not knowing what might offer, because this creature, the go-between that had thus betrayed us both, had made me believe strange things of my marrying to my advantage in the country, and I was not willing to be without money—whatever might happen. This bill I concealed, and that made me the freer of the rest, in consideration of his circumstances, for I really pitted him heartily, but to return to his question, I told him I never willingly deceived him, and I never would. I was very sorry to tell him that the little I had would not subsist us, that it was not sufficient to subsist me alone in the South Country, and that this was the reason that made me put myself into the hands of that woman, who called him brother. She, having assured me, that I might board very handsomely at a town called Manchester, where I had not yet been, for about six pounds a year, and my whole income not being about fifteen pounds a year. I thought I might leave easy upon it, and wait for better things. He shook his head and remained silent, and a very melancholy evening we had. However, we supped together, and lay together that night, and when we had almost supped he looked a little better and more cheerful, and called for a bottle of wine. Come, my dear, says he. Though the case is bad, it is to no purpose to be dejected. Come, be as easy as you can. I will endeavour to find out some way or other to live. If you can but subsist yourself, that is better than nothing. I must try the world again. A man not to think like a man. To be discouraged is to yield to the misfortune. With this he filled a glass and drank to me, holding my hand and pressing it hard in his hand all the while the wine went down. And protesting afterwards his main concern was for me. It was really a true gallant spirit he was of, and it was the more grievous to me, to something of relief even to be undone by a man of honour, rather than by a scoundrel. But here the greatest disappointment was on his side, for he had really spent a great deal of money, deluded by this madame the procurus. And it was very remarkable on what poor terms he proceeded. First the baseness of the creature herself is to be observed, who, for the getting one hundred pounds herself, could be content to let him spend three or four more, though perhaps it was all he had in the world. And more than all, when she had not the least ground, more than a little tea-table-chat, to say that I had any estate, or was a fortune, or the like. It is true the design of deluding a woman a fortune. If I had been so, was base enough. The putting the face of great things upon poor circumstances was a fraud, and bad enough. But the case a little differed, too, and that in his favour. For he was not a rake that made a trade to delude women, and, as some have done, get six or seven fortunes after one another, and then rifle and run away from them. But he was really a gentleman, unfortunate and low. But had lived well, and though, if I had had a fortune, I should have been enraged at the slut for betraying me. Yet really for the man, a fortune would not have been ill bestowed on him. For he was a lovely person indeed, of generous principles, good sense, and of abundance of good humour. We had a great deal of close conversation that night, for we neither of us slept much. He was as penitent for having put all those cheats upon me, as if it had been felony, and that he was going to execution. He offered me again every shilling of the money he had about him, and said he would go into the army and seek the world for more. I asked him why he would be so unkind to carry me into Ireland, when I might suppose he could not have subsisted me there. He took me in his arms. My dear, said he, depend upon it. I never designed to go to Ireland at all, much less to have carried you thither, but came hither to be out of the observation of the people, who had heard what I pretended to, and with all that nobody might ask me for the money before I was furnished to supply them. But where, then, said I, were we to have gone next? Why, my dear, said he, I'll confess the whole scheme to you as I had laid it. I purposed here to ask you something about your estate, as you see I did, and when you, as I expected you, would, had entered into some account with me of the particulars, I would have made an excuse to you to have put off our voyage to Ireland for some time, and to have gone first towards London. Then, my dear, said he, I resolved to have confessed all the circumstances of my own fears to you, and let you know I had indeed made use of these artifices to obtain your consent to marry me, but had now nothing to do but ask to your pardon, and to tell you how abundantly, as I have said above, I would endeavour to make you forget what was passed by the felicity of the days to come. Truly, said I to him, I find you would have soon conquered me, and it is my affliction now that I am not in a condition to let you see how easily I should have been reconciled to you, and have passed by all the tricks you had put upon me in recompense of so much good humour. But my dear, said I, what can we do now? We are both undone, and what better are we for our being reconciled together, seeing we have nothing to live on? We proposed a great many things, but nothing could offer where there was nothing to begin with. He begged me at last to talk no more of it, for he said I would break his heart. So we talked of other things a little. Till at last he took a husband's leave of me, and so we went to sleep. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Nicole Duhlin on the web at NicoleDuhlin.com. Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe, Section 13 As follows. My dear, I am a dog. I have abused you. But I have been drawn in to do it by a base creature. Contrary to my principle and the general practice of my life, forgive me, my dear. I ask your pardon with the greatest sincerity. I am the most miserable of men, and having deluded you. I have been so happy to possess you. And now I'm so wretched as to be forced to fly from you. Forgive me, my dear, once more I say forgive me. I am not able to see you ruined by me, and myself unable to support you. Our marriage is nothing. I shall never be able to see you again. I here discharge you from it. If you can marry to your advantage, do not decline it on my account. I here swear to you on my faith, and on the word of a man of honor. I will never disturb your oppose if I should know of it, which, however, is not likely. On the other hand, if you should not marry, and if good fortune should befall me, it shall be all yours wherever you are. I have put some of the stock of money I have left into your pocket. Take places for yourself and your maid and the stagecoach, and go for London. I hope it will bear your charges thither, without breaking into your own. Again I sincerely ask your pardon, and will do so often as I shall ever think of you. Adieu, my dear, for ever. I am your most affectionately, J.E. Nothing that ever befell me in my life sank so deep into my heart as this farewell. I reproached him a thousand times in my thoughts for leaving me, for I would have gone with him through the world if I had begged my bread. I felt in my pocket, and there found ten guineas, his gold watch, and two little rings, one a small diamond ring worth only about six pounds, and the other a plain gold ring. I sat me down and looked upon these things two hours together, and scarce spoke a word, till my maid interrupted me by telling me my dinner was ready. I ate but little, and after dinner I fell into a vehement fit of crying, every now and then calling him by his name which was James. Oh, Jimmy, said I, come back, come back, I'll give you all I have, I'll beg, I'll starve with you. And thus I ran raving about the room several times, and then sat down between wiles, and then walking about again, called upon him to come back, and then cried again, and thus I passed the afternoon till about seven o'clock, when it was near dusk, in the evening, being August when to my unspeakable surprise. He comes back into the inn, but without a servant, and comes directly up into my chamber. I was in the greatest confusion imaginable, and so was he too. I could not imagine what should be the occasion of it, and began to be at odds with myself whether to be glad or sorry. But my affection biased all the rest, and it was impossible to conceal my joy, which was too great for smiles, for it burst out into tears. He was no sooner entered the room, but he ran to me and took me in his arms, holding me fast, and almost stopping my breath with his kisses, but spoke not a word. At length I began. My dear, said I, how could you go away from me? To which he gave no answer, for it was impossible for him to speak. When our ecstasies were a little over, he told me he was gone about fifteen miles, but it was not in his power to go any farther without coming back to see me again. And to take his leave of me once more, I told him how I had passed my time, and how loud I had called him to come back again. He told me he heard me very plain upon Delamere forest, at a place about twelve miles off. I smiled. Nay, says he, do not think I am ingest. For if ever I heard your voice in my life, I heard you call me aloud. And sometimes I thought I saw you running after me. Why, said I, what did I say? For I had not named the words to him. You called aloud, says he. And said, O Jimmy, O Jimmy, come back, come back. I laughed at him. My dear, says he, do not laugh. For depend upon it, I heard your voice as plain as you hear mine now. If you please, I'll go before a magistrate and make oath of it. I then began to be amazed and surprised, and indeed frightened, and told him what I had really done, and how I had called after him as above. When we had amused ourselves a while about this, I said to him, well, you shall go away from me no more. I'll go all over the world with you rather. He told me it would be very difficult thing for him to leave me. But since it must be, he hoped I would make it as easy to me as I could, but as for him it would be his destruction that he foresaw. However, he told me that he considered he had left me to travel to London alone, which was too long a journey, and that as he might as well go that way as any way else, he was resolved to see me safe thither, or near it, and if he did go away then without taking his leave, I should not take it ill of him. And this he made me promise. He told me how he had dismissed his three servants, sold their horses, and sent the fellas away to seek their fortunes, and all in a little time at a town on the road I know not where, and, says he, it cost me some tears all alone by myself to think how much happier they were than their master, for they could go to the next gentleman's house to see for a service, whereas, said he, I knew not wither to go, or what to do with myself. I told him I was so completely miserable and parting with him, that I could not be worse, and that now he was come again I would not go from him, if he would take me with him, let him go wither he would, or do what he would, and in the meantime I agreed that we would go together to London, but I could not be brought to consent he should go away at last, and not take his leave of me, as he proposed to do. But told him, jesting that if he did, I would call him back again as loud as I did before. Then I pulled out his watch, and gave it him back, and his two rings, and his ten guineas, but he would not take them, which made me very much suspect that he resolved to go off upon the road and leave me. The truth is, the circumstances he was in, the passionate expressions of his letter, the kind gentlemanly treatment I had from him in all the affair, with the concern he showed for me in it, his manner of parting with that large share which he gave me of his little stock left. All these had joined to make such impressions on me, that I really loved him most tenderly, and could not bear the thoughts of parting with him. Two days after this we quitted Chester. I and the stagecoach, and he on horseback. I dismissed my maid at Chester. He was very much against my being without a maid. But she being a servant hired in the country, and I resolving to keep no servant at London, I told him it would have been barbarous to have taken the poor wench, and have turned her away as soon as I came to town. And it would also have been a needless charge on the road. So I satisfied him, and he was easy enough on the score. He came with me as far as Dunstable, within thirty miles of London, and then told me fate and his own misfortunes obliged him to leave me, and that it was not convenient for him to go to London, for reasons which it was of no value to me to know, and I saw him preparing to go. The stagecoach we were in did not usually stop at Dunstable. But I, desiring it but for a quarter of an hour, they were content to stand at an indoor awhile, and we went into the house. Being in the inn, I told him I had but one favour more to ask of him, and that was, that since he could not go any farther, he would give me leave to stay a week or two in the town with him. That we might in that time think of something to prevent such a ruinous thing to us both, as a final separation would be, and that I had something of moment to offer him, that I had never said yet, and which perhaps he might find practicable to our mutual advantage. This was too reasonable a proposal to be denied. So he called the landlady of the house, and told her his wife was taken ill, and so ill that she could not think of going any farther in the stagecoach, which had tied her almost to death, and asked if she could not get us a lodging for two or three days in a private house, where I might rest me a little, for the journey had been too much for me. The landlady, a good sort of woman, well-bred and very obliging, came immediately to see me, told me she had two or three very good rooms in a part of the house, quite out of the noise, and if I saw them, she did not doubt that I would like them, and I should have one of her maids, that should do nothing else but be appointed to wait on me. This was so very kind that I could not but accept of it, and thank her, so I went to look on the rooms, and liked them very well, and indeed they were extraordinarily furnished, and very pleasant lodgings. So he paid the stagecoach, took out our baggage, and resolved to stay here a while. Here I told him I would live with him now till all my money was spent, but would not let him spend a shilling of his own. We had some kind squabble about that, but I told him it was the last time I was like to enjoy his company, and I desired he would let me be master in that thing only, and he should govern in everything else. So he acquiesced. Here one evening, taking a walk into the fields, I told him I would now make the proposal to him I had told him of. Accordingly I related to him how I had lived in Virginia, that I had a mother I believed was alive there still, though my husband was dead some years. I told him that had not my effects miscarried, which, by the way, I magnified pretty much. I might have been fortunate good enough to him to have kept us from being parted in this manner. Then I entered into the manner of peoples going over to those countries to settle. How they had a quantity of land given them by the constitution of the place. And if not, that it might be purchased at so easier rate that it was not worth naming. I then gave him a full and distinct account of the nature of planting. How with carrying over but two or three hundred pounds value in English goods, with some servants and tools, a man of application would presently lay a foundation for a family, and in a very few years be certain to raise an estate. I led him into the nature of the product of the earth, how the ground was cured and prepared, and what the usual increase of it was, and demonstrated to him that in a very few years, with such a beginning, we should be a certain of being rich as we were now certain of being poor. He was surprised at my discourse, for we made it the whole subject of our conversation for near a week together, in which time I laid it down in black and white, as we say, that it was morally impossible, with a supposition of any reasonable good conduct, but that we must thrive there and do very well. Then I told him what measures I would take to raise such a sum of three hundred pounds or thereabouts, and I argued with him how good a method it would be to put an end to our misfortunes and restore our circumstances in the world, to what we had both expected, and I added that after seven years, if we lived, we might be in a posture to leave our plantations in good hands, and come over again and receive the income of it, and live here and enjoy it, and I gave him examples of some that had done so, and lived now in very good circumstances in London. In short, I pressed him so to it, that he almost agreed to it, but still something or other broke it off again, till at last he turned the tables, and he began to talk almost to the same purpose of Ireland. He told me that a man that could confine himself to country life, and that could fine but stock to enter upon any land, should have farms there for fifty pounds a year. As good as were here, let for two hundred pounds a year, that the produce was such, and so rich the land, that if much was not laid up, we were sure to live as handsomely upon it as a gentleman of three thousand pounds a year could do in England, and that he had laid a scheme to leave me in London and go over and try, and if he found he could lay a handsom foundation of living suitable to the respect he had for me, as he doubted not he should do, he would come over and fetch me. I was dreadfully afraid that upon such a proposal he would have taken me at my word, vis, to sell my little income as I called it, and turn it into money, and let him carry it over into Ireland, and try his experiment with it, but he was too just to desire it, or to have accepted it if I had offered it, and he anticipated me in that, for he added that he would go and try his fortune that way, and if he found he could do anything at it to live, then by adding mine to it when I went over we should live like ourselves, but that he would not hazard a shilling of mine till he had made the experiment with the little, and he assured me that if he found nothing to be done in Ireland, he would then come to me and join in my project for Virginia. He was so earnest upon his project being to be tried first, that I could not withstand him. However, he promised to let me hear from him in a very little time, after his arriving there, to let me know whether his prospect answered his design, that if there was not a possibility of success, I might take the occasion to prepare for our other voyage, and then, he assured me, he would go with me to America with all his heart. I could bring him to nothing further than this. However, those consultations entertained us near a month, during which I enjoyed his company, which indeed was the most entertaining that ever I met in my life before. In this time he let me into the whole story of his own life, which was indeed surprising, and full of an infinite variety sufficient to fill up a much brighter history for its adventures and incidents than any I ever saw in print. But I shall have occasion to say more of him hereafter. We parted at last, though with the utmost reluctance on my side. And indeed he took his leave very unwillingly too, but necessity obliged him, for his reasons were very good why he would not come to London, as I understood more fully some time afterwards. I gave him a direction how to write to me, though still I reserved the grand secret, and never broke my resolution, which was not to let him ever know my true name, who I was, or where to be found. He likewise let me know how to write a letter to him so that he said he would be sure to receive it. I came to London the next day after we parted, but did not go directly to my old lodgings, but for another nameless reason took private lodging in St. John Street, or as it is vulgarly called, St. Jones's, near Clerkenwell. And here, being perfectly alone, I had leisure to sit down and reflect seriously upon the last seven months ramble I had made. For I had been abroad no less. The pleasant hours I had with my last husband I looked back on with an infinite deal of pleasure. But that pleasure was very much lessened when I found some time after, that I was really with child. This was a perplexing thing, because of the difficulty which was before me, where I should get leave to Lyon. It being one of the nicest things in the world at that time of day for a woman that was a stranger, and had no friends, to be entertained in that circumstance without security, which, by the way, I had not, neither could I procure any. I had taken care all this while to preserve a correspondence with my honest friend at the bank, or rather he took care to correspond with me, for he wrote to me once a week, and though I had not spent my money so fast as to want any from him, yet I often wrote also to let him know I was alive. I had left directions in Lancashire so that I had these letters, which he sent, conveyed to me, and during my recess at St. Jones's, received a very obliging letter from him, assuring me that his process for a divorce from his wife went on with success, though he met with some difficulties in it that he did not expect. I was not displeased with the news that his process was more tedious than he expected, for though I was in no condition to have him yet, not being so foolish to marry him when I knew myself to be with child by another man, as some I know have ventured to do. Yet I was not willing to lose him, and, in a word, resolve to have him if he continued in the same mind, as soon as I was up again, for I saw apparently I should hear no more from my husband, and as he had all along pressed to marry, and had assured me he would not be at all disgusted at it, or ever offered to claim me again. So I made no scruple to resolve to do it if I could, and if my other friends stood to his bargain, and I had a great deal of reason to be assured that he would stand to it, by the letters he wrote to me, which were the kindest and most obliging that could be. I now grew big, and the people where I lodged perceived it, and began to take notice of it to me, and, as far as civility would allow, intimated that I must think of removing. This put me to extreme perplexity, and I grew very melancholy, for indeed I knew not what course to take. I had money, but no friends, and was like to have a child upon my hands to keep, which was a difficulty I had never had upon me yet, as the particulars of my story hitherto make appear. In the course of this affair I fell very ill, and my melancholy really increased my distemper. My illness proved at length to be only an agieu, but my apprehensions were really that I should miscarry. I should not say apprehensions, for indeed I would have been glad to miscarry, but I could never be brought to entertain so much as a thought of endeavouring to miscarry, or of taking anything to make me miscarry. I abhorred, I say, so much as the thought of it. However, speaking of it in the house, the gentlewoman who kept the house proposed to me to send for a midwife. I scrupled at it at first, but after some time consented to it, but told her I had no particular acquaintance with any midwife, and so left it to her. It seems the mistress of the house was not so great a stranger to such cases as mine was, as I thought at first she had been, as will appear presently, and she sent for a midwife of the right sort. That is to say the right sort for me. The woman appeared to be an experienced woman in her business. I mean as a midwife, but she had another calling too, in which she was as expert as most women, if not more. My landlady had told her I was very melancholy, and that she believed that had done me harm, and once, before me, said to her, Mrs. B., meaning the midwife, I believe this lady's trouble is of a kind that is pretty much in your way, and therefore if you can do anything for her, pray do, for she is a very civil gentlewoman, and so she went out of the room. I really did not understand her, but my mother midnight began very seriously to explain what she mean as soon as she was gone. Madam, says she, you seem not to understand what your landlady means, and when you do understand it, you need not let her know at all that you do so. She means that you are under some circumstances that may render your lying and difficult to you, and that you are not willing to be exposed. I need say no more, but to tell you that if you think fit to communicate so much of your case to me, if it be so, as is necessary, for I do not desire to pry into those things. I perhaps may be in a position to help you, and to make you perfectly easy, and remove all your dull thoughts upon that subject. Every word this creature said was a cordial to me, and put new life and new spirit into my heart. My blood began to circulate immediately, and I was quite another body. I ate my victuals again, and grew better presently after it. She said a great deal more to the same purpose, and then, having pressed me to be free with her, she promised in the solemnest manner to be secret. She stopped a little, as if waiting to see what impression it made on me, and what I would say, I was too sensible to the want I was in of such a woman, not to accept her offer. I told her my case was partly as she guessed, and partly not, for I was really married, and had a husband, though he was in such fine circumstances and so remote at that time, as that he could not appear publicly. She took me short, and told me that was none of her business. All the ladies that came under her care were married women to her. Every woman, she says, that is with child, has a father for it, and whether that father was a husband or no husband was no business of hers. Her business was to assist me in my present circumstances, whether I had a husband or no. For madam, says she, to have a husband that cannot appear is to have no husband in the sense of the case, and therefore whether you are a wife or a mistress is all one to me. I found presently that whether I was a whore or a wife, I was to pass for a whore here, so I let that go. I told her it was true, as she said, but that, however, if I must tell her my case, I must tell it her as it was. So I related it to her as short as I could, and I concluded it to her thus. I trouble you with all this, madam, said I. Not that as you said before, it is much to the purpose in your affair, but this is to the purpose. Namely, that I am not in any pain about being seen, or being public or concealed, for it is perfectly indifferent to me, but my difficulty is that I have no acquaintance in this part of the nation. I understand you, madam, says she. You have no security to bring to prevent the parish impertence as usual in such cases. And perhaps, says she, do not know very well how to dispose of the child when it comes. The last, says I, is not so much my concern as the first. Well, madam, answered the midwife. Dear, you put yourself into my hands. I live in such a place. Though I do not inquire after you, you may inquire after me. My name is B. I live in such a street, naming the street at the sign of the cradle. My profession is a midwife, and I have many ladies that come to my house to lie in. I have given security to the parish in general terms to secure them from any charge from whatsoever shall come into the world under my roof. I have but one question to ask in the whole affair, madam, says she, and if that be answered, you shall be entirely easy for all the rest. I presently understood what she meant, and told her, madam, I believe I understand you. I thank God, though I want friends in this part of the world, I do not want money, so far as may be necessary, though I do not abound in that neither. This, I added, because I would not make her expect great things. Well, madam, says she, that is the thing indeed, without which nothing can be done in these cases, and yet, says she, you shall see that I will not impose upon you, or offer anything that is unkind to you, and if you desire it, you shall know everything beforehand. That you may suit yourself to the occasion, and be neither costly or spearing as you see fit. I told her she seemed to be so perfectly sensible of my condition that I had nothing to ask of her but this, that as I had told her that I had money sufficient, but not a great quantity, she would order it so that I might be at as little superfluous charge as possible. She replied that she would bring in an account of the expenses of it, in two or three shapes, and like a bill affair, I should choose as I pleased, and I desired her to do so. The next day she brought it, and the copy of her three bills was as follows. Number one, for three months lodging in her house, including my diet at ten shillings a week, six pounds, zero shillings, zero pence. Two, for a nurse for the month, and use of child bed linen, one pound, ten shillings, zero pence. Three, for a minister to christen the child, and to the godfathers in clerk, one pound, ten shillings, zero pence. Four, for a supper at the christening, if I had five friends at it, one pound, zero shillings, zero pence. Five, for her fees as a midwife, and the taking off the trouble of the parish, three pounds, three shillings, zero pence. Six, to her maid-servant attending, zero pounds, ten shillings, zero pence. For a total of thirteen pounds, thirteen shillings, zero pence. This was the first bill. The second was the same terms. Number one, for three months lodging in diet, etc., at twenty shillings per week, thirteen pounds, zero shillings, zero pence. Two, for a nurse for the month, and the use of linen and lace, two pounds, ten shillings, zero pence. Three, for the minister to christen the child, etc., as above, two pounds, zero shillings, zero pence. Four, for supper and for sweetmeats, three pounds, three shillings, zero pence. Five, for her fees as above, five pounds, five shillings, zero pence. Six, for a servant maid, one pound, zero shillings, zero pence, for a total of twenty-six pounds, eighteen shillings, and zero pence. This was the second rate bill. The third, she said, was for a degree higher, and when the father or friends appeared. One, for three months lodging in diet, having two rooms and a garret for a servant, thirty pounds, zero shillings, zero pence. Two, for a nurse for the month, and the finest suit of child bed linen, four pounds, four shillings, zero pence. Three, for the minister to christen the child, etc., two pounds, ten shillings, zero pence. Four, for a supper, the gentleman to send in the wine, six pounds, zero shillings, zero pence. Five, for my fees, etc., ten pounds, ten shillings, zero pence. Six, the maid, besides their own maid only, zero pounds, ten shillings, zero pence, for a total of fifty-three pounds, fourteen shillings, zero pence. I looked upon all three bills and smiled, and told her I did not see but that she was very reasonable in her demands. All things considered, and for that I did not doubt but her accommodations were good. She told me I should be judge of that when I saw them. I told her I was sorry to tell her that I feared I must be her lowest-rated customer. And perhaps, madam, said I, you will make me the less welcome upon that account. No, not at all, said she. For where I have one of the third sort I have two of the second, and four to one of the first. And I get as much by them in proportion as by any. But if you doubt my care of you, I will allow any friend you have to overlook and see if you are well-weighted on or no. Then she explained the particulars of her bill. In the first place, madam, said she, I would have you observe that here is three months' keeping. You are but ten shillings a week. I undertake to say you will not complain of my table. I suppose. So she, you do not live cheaper where you are now? No, indeed, said I. Not so cheap, for I give six shillings per week for my chamber, and find my own diet as well as I can, which cost me a great deal more. Then, madam, says she, if the child should not live, war should be dead-born, as you know sometimes happens, then there is the minister's article saved, and if you have no friends to come to you, you may save the expense of a supper. So that take those articles out, madam, says she, your lying-in will not cost you above five pounds three shillings in all, more than your ordinary charge of living. This was the most reasonable thing that I ever heard of. So I smiled and told her I would come and be her customer. But I told her also that, as I had two months and more to do, I might perhaps be obliged to stay longer with her than three months, and desired to know if she would not be obliged to remove me before it was proper. No, she said, her house was large, and besides she never put anybody to remove that had lain in till they were willing to go, and if she had more ladies offered, she was not so ill-beloved among her neighbours, but she could provide accommodations for twenty, if there was occasion. I found she was an eminent lady in her way, and in short I agreed to put myself into her hands, and promised her. She then talked of other things, looked about into my accommodations where I was, found fault with my wanting attendance and conveniences, and that I should not be used so at her house. I told her I was shy of speaking, for the woman of the house looked stranger, or at least I thought so, since I had been ill, because I was with child, and I was afraid she would put some affront or other upon me, supposing that I had been able to give but a slight account of myself. Oh dear, said she, her ladyship is no stranger to these things. She has tried to entertain ladies in your condition several times, but she could not secure the parish, and besides she is not such a nice lady as you take her to be. However, since you are a going, you shall not meddle with her, but I'll see you are a little better looked after while you are here than I think you are, and it shall not cost you the more, neither. I did not understand her at all. However, I thanked her, and so we parted. The next morning she sent me a chicken roasted in hot, and a pint bottle of sherry, and ordered the maid to tell me that she was to wait on me every day as long as I stayed there. This was surprisingly good and kind, and I accepted it very willingly. At night she sent to me again, to know if I wanted anything, and how I did, and to order the maid to come to her in the morning with my dinner. The maid had orders to make me some chocolate in the morning before she came away, and did so, and at noon she brought me the sweet bread of a breast of veal, whole, and a dish of soup for my dinner, and after this manner she nursed me up at a distance, so that I was mightily well pleased, and quickly well, for indeed my dejections before were the principal part of my illness. I expected, as is usually the case among such people, that the servant she sent me would have been some imprudent brazen wench of Drury Lane breeding, and I was very uneasy at having her with me upon that account. So I would not let her lie in that house the first night by any means, but had my eyes about me as narrowly as if she had been a public thief. My gentle woman guessed presently what was the matter, and sent her back with a short note, that I might depend upon the honesty of her maid, that she would be answerable for her upon all accounts, and that she took no servants into her house without very good security for their fidelity. I was then perfectly easy, and indeed the maid's behaviour spoke for itself. For a modester, quieter, soberer girl never came into anybody's family, and I found her so afterwards. As soon as I was well enough to go abroad, I went with the maid to see the house, and to see the apartment I was to have, and everything was so handsome and so clean and well, that, in short, I had nothing to say, but was wonderfully pleased and satisfied with what I had met with, which, considering the melancholy circumstances I was in, was far beyond what I looked for. It might be expected that I should give some account of the nature of the wicked practices of this woman, in whose hands I was now fallen, but it would be too much encouragement to the vice, to let the world see what easy measures were here taken to rid the women's unwelcome burden of a child clandestinely gotten. This grave matron had several sorts of practice, and this was one particular, that if a child was born, though not in her house, for she had occasion to be called to many private labours. She had people at hand, who for a piece of money, would take the child off their hands, and off from the hands of the parish too, and those children, as she said, were honestly provided for and taken care of. What should become of them all, considering so many, as by her account she was concerned with, I cannot conceive. I had many times discourses upon that subject with her, but she was full of this argument, that she saved the life of many an innocent lamb, as she called them, which would otherwise perhaps have been murdered, and of many women who, made desperate by the misfortune, would otherwise be tempted to destroy their children, and bring themselves to the gallows. I granted her that this was true, and a very commendable thing, provided the poor children fell into good hands afterwards, and were not abused, starved, and neglected by the nurses that bred them up. She answered that she always took care of that, and had no nurses in her business, but what were very good, honest people, and such as might be depended upon. I could say nothing to the contrary, and so was obliged to say, Madam, I do not question you do your part honestly, but what those people do afterwards is the main question, and she stopped my mouth again, with saying that she took the utmost care about it. The only thing I found in all her conversation on these subjects that gave me any distaste, was that one time in discouraging about my being far gone with child, and the time I expected to come, she said something that looked as if she could help me off with my burden sooner, if I was willing, or in English, that she could give me something to make me miscarry, if I had a desire to put an end to my troubles that way. But I soon let her see that I abhor the thoughts of it, and to do her justice. She put it off so cleverly, that I could not say she really intended it, or whether she only mentioned the practice as a horrible thing. For she couched her words so well, and took my meaning so quickly, that she gave her negative before I could explain myself. To bring this part into as narrow a compass as possible, I quitted my lodging at St. Jones's, and went to my new governess, for so they called her in the house, and there I was indeed treated with so much courtesy, so carefully looked to, so handsomely provided, and everything so well, that I was surprised at it, and could not at first see what advantage my governess made of it. But I found afterwards that she professed to make no profit of Lodger's diet, nor indeed could she get much by it, but that her profit lay in the other articles of her management, and she made enough that way, I assure you, for to scarce credible what practice she had, as well as abroad as at home, and yet all upon the private account, or in plain English, the whoring account. While I was in her house, which was near four months, she had no less than twelve ladies of pleasure brought to bed within the doors, and I think she had two and thirty, or thereabouts, under her conduct without doors, whereof one, as nice as she was with me, was lodged with my old landlady at St. Jones's. This was a strange testimony of the growing vice of the age, and such a one, that as bad as I had been myself, it shocked my very senses. I began to nauseate the place I was in, and about all the wicked practice, and yet I must say that I never saw, or do I believe there was to be seen, least in decency in the house the whole time I was there. Not a man was ever seen to come upstairs, except to visit the lying in-ladies within their month, nor then without the old lady with them, who made it a piece of honour of her management, that no man should touch a woman—no, not his own wife—within the month, nor would she permit any man to lie in the house upon any pretense whatever. No, not though she was sure it was with his own wife, and her general saying for it was that she cared not how many children were born in her house, but she would have none got there if she could help it. It might perhaps be carried further than was needful, but it was an error of the right hand if it was an error, for by this she kept up the reputation, such as it was, of her business, and obtained this character that though she did take care of the women when they were debauched, yet she was not instrumental to their being debauched at all. And yet it was a wicked trade she drove to.