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in the middle of which, up comes my honest good Quaker, and put an end to our discourse. The Quaker came in smiling (for she was always soberly cheerful), Well, says she, thou art delivered at last; I come to joy thee of it; I perceived thou wert tired grievously of thy visitors.

Indeed, says 1, so I was; that foolish young girl held us all in a Canterbury story, I thought she would never have done with it. Why, truly, I thought she was very careful to let thee know she was but a cook-maid. Ay, says I, and at a gaming-house, or gaming-ordinary, and at t'other end of the town too; all which (by the way) she might know would add very little to her good name among us citizens.

I can't think, says the Quaker, but she had some other drift in that long discourse; there's something else in her head, says she, I am satisfied of that. Thought I, are you satisfied of it? 1 am sure I am the less satisfied for that; at least 'tis but small satisfaction to me to hear you say so. What can this be? says I, and when will my uneasiness have an end? But this was silent, and to myself, you may be sure. But in answer to my friend the Quaker, I returned, by asking her a question or two about it; as, what she thought was in it? and why she thought there was anything in it? For, says I, she can have nothing in it relating to me.

Nay, says the kind Quaker, if she had any view towards thee, that's no business of mine; and I should be far from desiring thee to inform me.

This alarmed me again; not that I feared trusting the good-humoured creature with it, if there had been anything of just suspicion in her; but this affair was a secret I cared not to communicate to anybody. However, I say, this alarmed me a little; for as I had concealed everything from her, I was willing to do so still; but as she could not but gather up abundance of things from the girl's discourse, which looked towards me, so she was too penetrating to be put off with such answers as might stop another's mouth. Only there was this double felicity in it, first, that she was not inquisitive to know or find anything out, and not dangerous if she had known the whole story. But, as I say, she could not but gather up several circumstances from the girl's discourse, as particularly the name of Amy, and the several descriptions of the Turkish dress which my friend the Quaker nad seen, and taken so much notice of, as I have said above.

SUSPICIONS OF THE QUAKER AROUSED.

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As for that, I might have turned it off by jesting with Amy, and asking her who she lived with before she came to live with me? But that would not do, for we had unhappily anticipated that way of talking, by having often talked how long Amy had lived with me; and which was still worse, by having owned formerly that I had had lodgings in the Pall Mall; so that all those things corresponded too well. There was only one thing that helped me out with the Quaker, and that was, the girl's having reported how rich Mrs. Amy was grown, and that she kept her coach. Now, as there might be many more Mrs. Amy's besides mine, so it was not likely to be my Amy, because she was far from such a figure as keeping her coach; and this carried it off from the suspicions which the good friendly Quaker might have in her head.

But as to what she imagined the girl had in her head, there lay more real difficulty in that part a great deal, and I was alarmed at it very much, for my friend the Quaker told me she observed that the girl was in a great passion when she talked of the habit, and more when I had been importuned to show her mine, but declined it. She said she several times perceived her to be in disorder, and to restrain herself with great difficulty; and once or twice she muttered to herself that she had found it out, or that she would find it out, she could not tell whether; and that she often saw tears in her eyes; that when I said my suit of Turkish clothes was put up, but that she should see it when we arrived in Holland, she heard her say softly, she would go over on purpose then.

After she had ended her observations, I added, I observed, too, that the girl talked and looked oddly, and that she was mighty inquisitive; but I could not imagine what it was she aimed at. Aimed at, says the Quaker, 'tis plain to me what she aims at. She believes thou art the same Lady Roxana that danced in the Turkish vest, but she is not certain. Does she believe so? says I; if I had thought that, I would have put her out of her pain. Believe so! says the Quaker, yes; and I began to believe so too, and should have believed so still, if thou had'st not satisfied me to the contrary by thy taking no notice of it, and by what thou hast said since. Should you have believed so? said I, warmly, I am very sorry for that. Why, would you have taken me for an actress, or a French stage-player? No, says the good kind creature, thou carriest it too far; as soon as thou madest thy reflections

upon her, I knew it could not be; but who could think any other when she described the Turkish dress which thou hast here, with the head-tire and jewels, and when she named thy maid Amy too, and several other circumstances concurring? I should certainly have believed it, said she, if thou hadst not contradicted it; but as soon as I heard thee speak, I concluded it was otherwise. That was very kind, said I, and I am obliged to you for doing me so much justice; it is more, it seems, than that young talking creature does. Nay, says the Quaker, indeed she does not do thee justice; for she as certainly believes it still, as ever she did. Does she? said I. Ay, says the Quaker, and I warrant thee she'll make thee another visit about it. Will she? says I; then I believe I shall downright affront her. No, thou shalt not affront her, says she (full of her good humour and temper), I'll take that part off thy hands, for I'll affront her for thee, and not let her see thee. I thought that was a very kind offer, but was at a loss how she would be able to do it; and the thought of seeing her there again, half distracted me, not knowing what temper she would come in, much less what manner to receive her in; but my fast friend and constant comforter the Quaker, said she perceived the girl was impertinent, and that I had no inclination to converse with her, and she was resolved I should not be troubled with her. But I shall have occasion to say more of this presently; for this girl went farther yet than I thought she had.

It was now time, as I said before, to take measures with my husband, in order to put off my voyage; so I fell into talk with him one morning, as he was dressing, and while I was in bed; I pretended I was very ill; and as I had but too easy a way to impose upon him, because he so absolutely believed everything I said, so I managed my discourse so as that he should understand by it I was a breeding, though I did not tell him so.

However, I brought it about so handsomely, that, before he went out of the room, he came and sat down by my bed-side, and began to talk very seriously to me upon the subject, of my being so every day ill, and that, as he hoped I was with child, he would have me consider well of it, whether I had not best alter my thoughts of the voyage to Holland; for that being sea-sick, and which was worse, if a storm should happen, might be very dangerous to me. And after saying

VOYAGE TO HOLLAND POSTPONED.

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abundance of the kindest things that the kindest of husbands in the world could say, he concluded, that it was his request to me, that I would not think any more of going till after all should be over; but that I would, on the contrary, prepare to lie in where I was, and where I knew, as well as he, I could be very well provided, and very well assisted.

This was just what I wanted; for I had, as you have heard, a thousand good reasons why I should put off the voyage, especially with that creature in company; but I had a mind the putting it off should be at his motion, not my own; and he came into it of himself, just as I would have had it. This gave me an opportunity to hang back a little, and to seem as if I was unwilling: I told him, I could not abide to put him to difficulties and perplexities in his business; that now he had hired the great cabin in the ship, and, perhaps, paid some of the money, and, it may be, taken freight for goods; and to make him break it all off again would be a needless charge to him, or, perhaps, a damage to the captain.

As to that, he said, it was not to be named, and he would not allow it to be any consideration at all; that he could easily pacify the captain of the ship by telling him the reason of it, and that if he did make him some satisfaction for the disappointment, it should not be much.

But, my dear, says I, you ha'n't heard me say I am with child, neither can I say so; and if it should not be so at last, then I shall have made a fine piece of work of it indeed; besides, says I, the two ladies, the captain's wife and her sister, they depend upon our going over, and have made great preparations, and all in compliment to me; what must I say to them?

Well, my dear, says he, if you should not be with child, though I hope you are, yet there is no harm done; the staying three or four months longer in England will be no damage to me, and we can go when we please, when we are sure you are not with child, or, when it appearing that you are with child, you shall be down and up again; and as for the captain's wife and sister, leave that part to me; I'll answer for it there shall be no quarrel raised upon that subject; I'll make your excuse to them by the captain himself, so all will be well enough there, I'll warrant you.

This was as much as I could desire; and thus it rested for awhile. I had indeed some anxious thoughts about this im

pertinent girl, but believed that putting off the voyage would have put an end to it all, so I began to be pretty easy; but I found myself mistaken, for I was brought to the point of destruction by her again, and that in the most unaccountable manner imaginable.

My husband, as he and I had agreed, meeting the captain of the ship, took the freedom to tell him, that he was afraid he must disappoint him, for that something had fallen out which had obliged him to alter his measures, and that his family could not be ready to go time enough for him.

I know the occasion, sir, says the captain; I hear your lady has got a daughter more than she expected; I give you joy of it. What do you mean by that? says my spouse. Nay, nothing, says the captain, but what I hear the women tattle over the tea-table. I know nothing, but that you don't go the voyage upon it, which I am sorry for; but you know your own affairs, added the captain, that's no business of mine.

Well, but, says my husband, I must make you some satisfaction for the disappointment, and so pulls out his money. No, no, says the captain; and so they fell to straining their compliments one upon another; but, in short, my spouse gave him three or four guineas, and made him take it; and so the first discourse went off again, and they had no more of it.

But it did not go off so easily with me; for now, in a word, the clouds began to thicken about me, and I had alarms on every side. My husband told me what the captain had said; but very happily took it, that the captain had brought a tale by halves, and having heard it one way, had told it another; and that neither could he understand the captain, neither did the captain understand himself, so he contented himself to tell me, he said, word for word, as the captain delivered it. How I kept my husband from discovering my disorder you shall hear presently; but let it suffice to say just now, that if my husband did not understand the captain, nor the captain understand himself, yet I understood them both very well; and, to tell the truth, it was a worse shock than ever I had had yet. Invention supplied me, indeed, with a sudden motion to avoid showing my surprise; for as my spouse and I was sitting by a little table near the fire, I reached out my hand, as if I had intended to take a spoon which lay on the

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