"But, if I was so pleased with the widow, my father was by this time

enamoured of her. She had, indeed, by the most artful conduct in the

world, so insinuated herself into his favour, so entirely infatuated

him, that he never shewed the least marks of chearfulness in her

absence, and could, in truth, scarce bear that she should be out of

his sight.

"She had managed this matter so well (O, she is the most artful of

women!) that my father's heart was gone before I ever suspected it was

in danger. The discovery you may easily believe, madam, was not

pleasing. The name of a mother-in-law sounded dreadful in my ears; nor

could I bear the thought of parting again with a share in those dear

affections, of which I had purchased the whole by the loss of a

beloved mother and sister.

"In the first hurry and disorder of my mind on this occasion I

committed a crime of the highest kind against all the laws of prudence

and discretion. I took the young lady herself very roundly to task,

treated her designs on my father as little better than a design to

commit a theft, and in my passion, I believe, said she might be

ashamed to think of marrying a man old enough to be her grandfather;

for so in reality he almost was.

"The lady on this occasion acted finely the part of a hypocrite. She

affected to be highly affronted at my unjust suspicions, as she called

them; and proceeded to such asseverations of her innocence, that she

almost brought me to discredit the evidence of my own eyes and ears.

"My father, however, acted much more honestly, for he fell the next

day into a more violent passion with me than I had ever seen him in

before, and asked me whether I intended to return his paternal

fondness by assuming the right of controlling his inclinations? with

more of the like kind, which fully convinced me what had passed

between him and the lady, and how little I had injured her in my

suspicions.

"Hitherto, I frankly own, my aversion to this match had been

principally on my own account; for I had no ill opinion of the woman,

though I thought neither her circumstances nor my father's age

promised any kind of felicity from such an union; but now I learnt

some particulars, which, had not our quarrel become public in the

parish, I should perhaps have never known. In short, I was Informed

that this gentle obliging creature, as she had at first appeared to

me, had the spirit of a tigress, and was by many believed to have

broken the heart of her first husband.

"The truth of this matter being confirmed to me upon examination, I

resolved not to suppress it. On this occasion fortune seemed to favour

me, by giving me a speedy opportunity of seeing my father alone and in

good humour. He now first began to open his intended marriage, telling

me that he had formerly had some religious objections to bigamy, but

he had very fully considered the matter, and had satisfied himself of

its legality. He then faithfully promised me that no second marriage

should in the least impair his affection for me; and concluded with

the highest eulogiums on the goodness of the widow, protesting that it

was her virtues and not her person with which he was enamoured.

"I now fell upon my knees before him, and bathing his hand in my

tears, which flowed very plentifully from my eyes, acquainted him with

all I had heard, and was so very imprudent, I might almost say so

cruel, to disclose the author of my information.

"My father heard me without any indication of passion, and answered

coldly, that if there was any proof of such facts he should decline

any further thoughts of this match: 'But, child,' said he, 'though I

am far from suspecting the truth of what you tell me, as far as

regards your knowledge, yet you know the inclination of the world to

slander.' However, before we parted he promised to make a proper

enquiry into what I had told him.--But I ask your pardon, dear madam,

I am running minutely into those particulars of my life in which you

have not the least concern."

Amelia stopt her friend short in her apology; and though, perhaps, she

thought her impertinent enough, yet (such was her good breeding) she

gave her many assurances of a curiosity to know every incident of her

life which she could remember; after which Mrs. Bennet proceeded as in

the next chapter.

Chapter iii.

_Continuation of Mrs. Bennet's story._

"I think, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, "I told you my father promised me

to enquire farther into the affair, but he had hardly time to keep his

word; for we separated pretty late in the evening and early the next

morning he was married to the widow.

"But, though he gave no credit to my information, I had sufficient

reason to think he did not forget it, by the resentment which he soon

discovered to both the persons whom I had named as my informers.

"Nor was it long before I had good cause to believe that my father's

new wife was perfectly well acquainted with the good opinion I had of

her, not only from her usage of me, but from certain hints which she

threw forth with an air of triumph. One day, particularly, I remember

she said to my father, upon his mentioning his age, 'O, my dear! I

hope you have many years yet to live! unless, indeed, I should be so

cruel as to break your heart' She spoke these words looking me full in

the face, and accompanied them with a sneer in which the highest

malice was visible, under a thin covering of affected pleasantry.

"I will not entertain you, madam, with anything so common as the cruel

usage of a step-mother; nor of what affected me much more, the unkind

behaviour of a father under such an influence. It shall suffice only

to tell you that I had the mortification to perceive the gradual and

daily decrease of my father's affection. His smiles were converted

into frowns; the tender appellations of child and dear were exchanged

for plain Molly, that girl, that creature, and sometimes much harder

names. I was at first turned all at once into a cypher, and at last

seemed to be considered as a nuisance in the family.

"Thus altered was the man of whom I gave you such a character at the

entrance on my story; but, alas! he no longer acted from his own

excellent disposition, but was in everything governed and directed by

my mother-in-law. In fact, whenever there is great disparity of years

between husband and wife, the younger is, I believe, always possessed

of absolute power over the elder; for superstition itself is a less

firm support of absolute power than dotage.

"But, though his wife was so entirely mistress of my father's will

that she could make him use me ill, she could not so perfectly subdue

his understanding as to prevent him from being conscious of such ill-

usage; and from this consciousness, he began inveterately to hate me.

Of this hatred he gave me numberless instances, and I protest to you I

know not any other reason for it than what I have assigned; and the

cause, as experience hath convinced me, is adequate to the effect.

"While I was in this wretched situation, my father's unkindness having

almost broken ray heart, he came one day into my room with more anger

in his countenance than I had ever seen, and, after bitterly

upbraiding me with my undutiful behaviour both to himself and his

worthy consort, he bid me pack up my alls, and immediately prepare to

quit his house; at the same time gave me a letter, and told me that

would acquaint me where I might find a home; adding that he doubted

not but I expected, and had indeed solicited, the invitation; and left

me with a declaration that he would have no spies in his family.

"The letter, I found on opening it, was from my father's own sister;

but before I mention the contents I will give you a short sketch of

her character, as it was somewhat particular. Her personal charms were

not great; for she was very tall, very thin, and very homely. Of the

defect of her beauty she was, perhaps, sensible; her vanity,

therefore, retreated into her mind, where there is no looking-glass,

and consequently where we can flatter ourselves with discovering

almost whatever beauties we please. This is an encouraging

circumstance; and yet I have observed, dear Mrs. Booth, that few women

ever seek these comforts from within till they are driven to it by

despair of finding any food for their vanity from without. Indeed, I

believe the first wish of our whole sex is to be handsome."

Here both the ladies fixed their eyes on the glass, and both smiled.

"My aunt, however," continued Mrs. Bennet, "from despair of gaining

any applause this way, had applied herself entirely to the

contemplation of her understanding, and had improved this to such a

pitch, that at the age of fifty, at which she was now arrived, she had

contracted a hearty contempt for much the greater part of both sexes;

for the women, as being idiots, and for the men, as the admirers of

idiots. That word, and fool, were almost constantly in her mouth, and

were bestowed with great liberality among all her acquaintance.

"This lady had spent one day only at my father's house in near two

years; it was about a month before his second marriage. At her

departure she took occasion to whisper me her opinion of the widow,

whom she called a pretty idiot, and wondered how her brother could

bear such company under his roof; for neither she nor I had at that

time any suspicion of what afterwards happened.

"The letter which my father had just received, and which was the first

she had sent him since his marriage, was of such a nature that I

should be unjust if I blamed him for being offended; fool and idiot

were both plentifully bestowed in it as well on himself as on his

wife. But what, perhaps, had principally offended him was that part

which related to me; for, after much panegyric on my understanding,

and saying he was unworthy of such a daughter, she considered his

match not only as the highest indiscretion as it related to himself,

but as a downright act of injustice to me. One expression in it I

shall never forget. 'You have placed,' said she, 'a woman above your

daughter, who, in understanding, the only valuable gift of nature, is

the lowest in the whole class of pretty idiots.' After much more of

this kind, it concluded with inviting me to her house.

"I can truly say that when I had read the letter I entirely forgave my

father's suspicion that I had made some complaints to my aunt of his

behaviour; for, though I was indeed innocent, there was surely colour

enough to suspect the contrary.

"Though I had never been greatly attached to my aunt, nor indeed had

she formerly given me any reason for such an attachment, yet I was

well enough pleased with her present invitation. To say the truth, I

led so wretched a life where I then was, that it was impossible not to

be a gainer by any exchange.

"I could not, however, bear the thoughts of leaving my father with an

impression on his mind against me which I did not deserve. I

endeavoured, therefore, to remove all his suspicion of my having

complained to my aunt by the most earnest asseverations of my

innocence; but they were all to no purpose. All my tears, all my vows,

and all my entreaties were fruitless. My new mother, indeed, appeared

to be my advocate; but she acted her part very poorly, and, far from

counterfeiting any desire of succeeding in my suit, she could not

conceal the excessive joy which she felt on the occasion.

"Well, madam, the next day I departed for my aunt's, where, after a

long journey of forty miles, I arrived, without having once broke my

fast on the road; for grief is as capable as food of filling the

stomach, and I had too much of the former to admit any of the latter.

The fatigue of my journey, and the agitation of my mind, joined to my

fasting, so overpowered my spirits, that when I was taken from my

horse I immediately fainted away in the arms of the man who helped me

from my saddle. My aunt expressed great astonishment at seeing me in

this condition, with my eyes almost swollen out of my head with tears;

but my father's letter, which I delivered her soon after I came to

myself, pretty well, I believe, cured her surprize. She often smiled

with a mixture of contempt and anger while she was reading it; and,

having pronounced her brother to be a fool, she turned to me, and,

with as much affability as possible (for she is no great mistress of

affability), said, 'Don't be uneasy, dear Molly, for you are come to

the house of a friend--of one who hath sense enough to discern the

author of all the mischief: depend upon it, child, I will, ere long,

make some people ashamed of their folly.' This kind reception gave me

some comfort, my aunt assuring me that she would convince him how

unjustly he had accused me of having made any complaints to her. A

paper war was now begun between these two, which not only fixed an

irreconcileable hatred between them, but confirmed my father's

displeasure against me; and, in the end, I believe, did me no service

with my aunt; for I was considered by both as the cause of their

dissension, though, in fact, my stepmother, who very well knew the

affection my aunt had for her, had long since done her business with

my father; and as for my aunt's affection towards him, it had been

abating several years, from an apprehension that he did not pay

sufficient deference to her understanding.

"I had lived about half a year with my aunt when I heard of my

stepmother's being delivered of a boy, and the great joy my father

expressed on that occasion; but, poor man, he lived not long to enjoy

his happiness; for within a month afterwards I had the melancholy news

of his death.

"Notwithstanding all the disobligations I had lately received from

him, I was sincerely afflicted at my loss of him. All his kindness to

me in my infancy, all his kindness to me while I was growing up,

recurred to my memory, raised a thousand tender, melancholy ideas, and

totally obliterated all thoughts of his latter behaviour, for which I

made also every allowance and every excuse in my power.

"But what may perhaps appear more extraordinary, my aunt began soon to

speak of him with concern. She said he had some understanding

formerly, though his passion for that vile woman had, in a great

measure, obscured it; and one day, when she was in an ill-humour with

me, she had the cruelty to throw out a hint that she had never

quarrelled with her brother if it had not been on my account. "My

father, during his life, had allowed my aunt very handsomely for my

board; for generosity was too deeply riveted in his nature to be

plucked out by all the power of his wife. So far, however, she

prevailed, that, though he died possessed of upwards of L2000, he left

me no more than L100, which, as he expressed in his will, was to set

me up in some business, if I had the grace to take to any.

"Hitherto my aunt had in general treated me with some degree of

affection; but her behaviour began now to be changed. She soon took an

opportunity of giving me to understand that her fortune was

insufficient to keep me; and, as I could not live on the interest of

my own, it was high time for me to consider about going into the

world. She added, that her brother having mentioned my setting up in

some business in his will was very foolish; that I had been bred to

nothing; and, besides, that the sum was too trifling to set me up in

any way of reputation; she desired me therefore to think of

immediately going into service.

"This advice was perhaps right enough; and I told her I was very ready

to do as she directed me, but I was at that time in an ill state of

health; I desired her therefore to let me stay with her till my

legacy, which was not to be paid till a year after my father's death,

was due; and I then promised to satisfy her for my board, to which she

readily consented.

"And now, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, sighing, "I am going to open to

you those matters which lead directly to that great catastrophe of my

life which hath occasioned my giving you this trouble, and of trying

your patience in this manner."

Amelia, notwithstanding her impatience, made a very civil answer to

this; and then Mrs. Bennet proceeded to relate what is written in the

next chapter.

Chapter iv.

_Further continuation._

"The curate of the parish where my aunt dwelt was a young fellow of

about four-and-twenty. He had been left an orphan in his infancy, and

entirely unprovided for, when an uncle had the goodness to take care

of his education, both at school and at the university. As the young

gentleman was intended for the church, his uncle, though he had two

daughters of his own, and no very large fortune, purchased for him the

next presentation of a living of near L200 a-year. The incumbent, at

the time of the purchase, was under the age of sixty, and in apparent

good health; notwithstanding which, he died soon after the bargain,

and long before the nephew was capable of orders; so that the uncle

was obliged to give the living to a clergyman, to hold it till the

young man came of proper age.

"The young gentleman had not attained his proper age of taking orders

when he had the misfortune to lose his uncle and only friend, who,

thinking he had sufficiently provided for his nephew by the purchase

of the living, considered him no farther in his will, but divided all

the fortune of which he died possessed between his two daughters;

recommending it to them, however, on his deathbed, to assist their

cousin with money sufficient to keep him at the university till he

should be capable of ordination.

"But, as no appointment of this kind was in the will, the young

ladies, who received about each, thought proper to disregard the last

words of their father; for, besides that both of them were extremely

tenacious of their money, they were great enemies to their cousin, on

account of their father's kindness to him; and thought proper to let

him know that they thought he had robbed them of too much already.

"The poor young fellow was now greatly distrest; for he had yet above

a year to stay at the university, without any visible means of

sustaining himself there.

"In this distress, however, he met with a friend, who had the good

nature to lend him the sum of twenty pounds, for which he only

accepted his bond for forty, and which was to be paid within a year

after his being possessed of his living; that is, within a year after

his becoming qualified to hold it.

"With this small sum thus hardly obtained the poor gentleman made a

shift to struggle with all difficulties till he became of due age to

take upon himself the character of a deacon. He then repaired to that

clergyman to whom his uncle had given the living upon the conditions

above mentioned, to procure a title to ordination; but this, to his

great surprize and mortification, was absolutely refused him.

"The immediate disappointment did not hurt him so much as the

conclusion he drew from it; for he could have but little hopes that

the man who could have the cruelty to refuse him a title would

vouchsafe afterwards to deliver up to him a living of so considerable

a value; nor was it long before this worthy incumbent told him plainly

that he valued his uncle's favours at too high a rate to part with

them to any one; nay, he pretended scruples of conscience, and said

that, if he had made any slight promises, which he did not now well

remember, they were wicked and void; that he looked upon himself as

married to his parish, and he could no more give it up than he could

give up his wife without sin.

"The poor young fellow was now obliged to seek farther for a title,

which, at length, he obtained from the rector of the parish where my

aunt lived.

"He had not long been settled in the curacy before an intimate

acquaintance grew between him and my aunt; for she was a great admirer

of the clergy, and used frequently to say they were the only

conversible creatures in the country.

"The first time she was in this gentleman's company was at a

neighbour's christening, where she stood godmother. Here she displayed

her whole little stock of knowledge, in order to captivate Mr. Bennet

(I suppose, madam, you already guess that to have been his name), and

before they parted gave him a very strong invitation to her house.

"Not a word passed at this christening between Mr. Bennet and myself,

but our eyes were not unemployed. Here, madam, I first felt a pleasing

kind of confusion, which I know not how to describe. I felt a kind of

uneasiness, yet did not wish to be without it. I longed to be alone,

yet dreaded the hour of parting. I could not keep my eyes off from the

object which caused my confusion, and which I was at once afraid of

and enamoured with. But why do I attempt to describe my situation to

one who must, I am sure, have felt the same?"

Amelia smiled, and Mrs. Bennet went on thus: "O, Mrs. Booth! had you

seen the person of whom I am now speaking, you would not condemn the

suddenness of my love. Nay, indeed, I had seen him there before,

though this was the first time I had ever heard the music of his

voice. Oh! it was the sweetest that was ever heard.

"Mr. Bennet came to visit my aunt the very next day. She imputed this

respectful haste to the powerful charms of her understanding, and

resolved to lose no opportunity in improving the opinion which she

imagined he had conceived of her. She became by this desire quite

ridiculous, and ran into absurdities and a gallimatia scarce credible.

"Mr. Bennet, as I afterwards found, saw her in the same light with

myself; but, as he was a very sensible and well-bred man, he so well

concealed his opinion from us both, that I was almost angry, and she

was pleased even to raptures, declaring herself charmed with his

understanding, though, indeed, he had said very little; but I believe

he heard himself into her good opinion, while he gazed himself into

love.

"The two first visits which Mr. Bennet made to my aunt, though I was

in the room all the time, I never spoke a word; but on the third, on

some argument which arose between them, Mr. Bennet referred himself to

me. I took his side of the question, as indeed I must to have done

justice, and repeated two or three words of Latin. My aunt reddened at

this, and exprest great disdain of my opinion, declaring she was

astonished that a man of Mr. Bennet's understanding could appeal to

the judgment of a silly girl; 'Is she,' said my aunt, bridling

herself, 'fit to decide between us?' Mr. Bennet spoke very favourably

of what I had said; upon which my aunt burst almost into a rage,

treated me with downright scurrility, called me conceited fool, abused

my poor father for having taught me Latin, which, she said, had made

me a downright coxcomb, and made me prefer myself to those who were a

hundred times my superiors in knowledge. She then fell foul on the

learned languages, declared they were totally useless, and concluded

that she had read all that was worth reading, though, she thanked

heaven, she understood no language but her own.

"Before the end of this visit Mr. Bennet reconciled himself very well

to my aunt, which, indeed, was no difficult task for him to

accomplish; but from that hour she conceived a hatred and rancour

towards me which I could never appease.

"My aunt had, from my first coming into her house, expressed great

dislike to my learning. In plain truth, she envied me that advantage.

This envy I had long ago discovered, and had taken great pains to

smother it, carefully avoiding ever to mention a Latin word in her

presence, and always submitting to her authority; for indeed I

despised her ignorance too much to dispute with her. By these means I

had pretty well succeeded, and we lived tolerably together; but the

affront paid to her understanding by Mr. Bennet in my favour was an

injury never to be forgiven to me. She took me severely to task that

very evening, and reminded me of going to service in such earnest

terms as almost amounted to literally turning me out of doors;

advising me, in the most insulting manner, to keep my Latin to myself,

which she said was useless to any one, but ridiculous when pretended

to by a servant.

"The next visit Mr. Bennet made at our house I was not suffered to be

present. This was much the shortest of all his visits; and when he

went away he left my aunt in a worse humour than ever I had seen her.

The whole was discharged on me in the usual manner, by upbraiding me

with my learning, conceit, and poverty; reminding me of obligations,

and insisting on my going immediately to service. With all this I was

greatly pleased, as it assured me that Mr. Bennet had said something

to her in my favour; and I would have purchased a kind expression of

his at almost any price.

"I should scarce, however, have been so sanguine as to draw this

conclusion, had I not received some hints that I had not unhappily

placed my affections on a man who made me no return; for, though he

had scarce addressed a dozen sentences to me (for, indeed, he had no

opportunity), yet his eyes had revealed certain secrets to mine with

which I was not displeased.

"I remained, however, in a state of anxiety near a month; sometimes

pleasing myself with thinking Mr. Bennet's heart was in the same

situation with my own; sometimes doubting that my wishes had flattered

and deceived me, and not in the least questioning that my aunt was my

rival; for I thought no woman could be proof against the charms that

had subdued me. Indeed, Mrs. Booth, he was a charming young fellow; I

must--I must pay this tribute to his memory. O, gracious Heaven! why,

why did I ever see him? why was I doomed to such misery?" Here she

burst into a flood of tears, and remained incapable of speech for some

time; during which the gentle Amelia endeavoured all she could to

soothe her, and gave sufficient marks of sympathizing in the tender

affliction of her friend.

Mrs. Bennet, at length, recovered her spirits, and proceeded, as in

the next chapter.

Chapter v.

_The story of Mrs. Bennet continued._

I scarce know where I left off--Oh! I was, I think, telling you that I

esteemed my aunt as my rival; and it is not easy to conceive a greater

degree of detestation than I had for her; and what may, perhaps,

appear strange, as she daily grew more and more civil to me, my hatred

encreased with her civility; for I imputed it all to her triumph over

me, and to her having secured, beyond all apprehension, the heart I

longed for.

"How was I surprized when, one day, with as much good-humour as she

was mistress of (for her countenance was not very pleasing), she asked

me how I liked Mr. Bennet? The question, you will believe, madam,

threw me into great confusion, which she plainly perceived, and,

without waiting for my answer, told me she was very well satisfied,

for that it did not require her discernment to read my thoughts in my

countenance. 'Well, child,' she said, 'I have suspected this a great

while, and I believe it will please you to know that I yesterday made

the same discovery in your lover.' This, I confess to you, was more

than I could well bear, and I begged her to say no more to me at that

time on that subject. 'Nay, child,' answered she, 'I must tell you

all, or I should not act a friendly part. Mr. Bennet, I am convinced,

hath a passion for you; but it is a passion which, I think, you should

not encourage. For, to be plain with you, I fear he is in love with

your person only. Now this is a love, child, which cannot produce that

rational happiness which a woman of sense ought to expect.' In short,

she ran on with a great deal of stuff about rational happiness, and

women of sense, and concluded with assuring me that, after the

strictest scrutiny, she could not find that Mr. Bennet had an adequate

opinion of my understanding; upon which she vouchsafed to make me many

compliments, but mixed with several sarcasms concerning my learning.

"I hope, madam, however," said she to Amelia, "you have not so bad an

opinion of my capacity as to imagine me dull enough to be offended

with Mr. Bennet's sentiments, for which I presently knew so well to

account. I was, indeed, charmed with his ingenuity, who had

discovered, perhaps, the only way of reconciling my aunt to those

inclinations which I now assured myself he had for me.

"I was not long left to support my hopes by my sagacity. He soon found

an opportunity of declaring his passion. He did this in so forcible

though gentle a manner, with such a profusion of fervency and

tenderness at once, that his love, like a torrent, bore everything

before it; and I am almost ashamed to own to you how very soon he

prevailed upon me to--to--in short, to be an honest woman, and to

confess to him the plain truth.

"When we were upon a good footing together he gave me a long relation

of what had past at several interviews with my aunt, at which I had

not been present. He said he had discovered that, as she valued

herself chiefly on her understanding, so she was extremely jealous of

mine, and hated me on account of my learning. That, as he had loved me

passionately from his first seeing me, and had thought of nothing from

that time but of throwing himself at my feet, he saw no way so open to

propitiate my aunt as that which he had taken by commending my beauty,

a perfection to which she had long resigned all claim, at the expense

of my understanding, in which he lamented my deficiency to a degree

almost of ridicule. This he imputed chiefly to my learning; on this

occasion he advanced a sentiment which so pleased my aunt that she

thought proper to make it her own; for I heard it afterwards more than

once from her own mouth. Learning, he said, had the same effect on the

mind that strong liquors have on the constitution; both tending to

eradicate all our natural fire and energy. His flattery had made such

a dupe of my aunt that she assented, without the least suspicion of

his sincerity, to all he said; so sure is vanity to weaken every

fortress of the understanding, and to betray us to every attack of the

enemy.

"You will believe, madam, that I readily forgave him all he had said,

not only from that motive which I have mentioned, but as I was assured

he had spoke the reverse of his real sentiments. I was not, however,

quite so well pleased with my aunt, who began to treat me as if I was

really an idiot. Her contempt, I own, a little piqued me; and I could

not help often expressing my resentment, when we were alone together,

to Mr. Bennet, who never failed to gratify me by making her conceit

the subject of his wit; a talent which he possessed in the most

extraordinary degree.

"This proved of very fatal consequence; for one day, while we were

enjoying my aunt in a very thick arbour in the garden, she stole upon

us unobserved, and overheard our whole conversation. I wish, my dear,

you understood Latin, that I might repeat you a sentence in which the

rage of a tigress that hath lost her young is described. No English

poet, as I remember, hath come up to it; nor am I myself equal to the

undertaking. She burst in upon us, open-mouthed, and after discharging

every abusive word almost, in the only language she understood, on

poor Mr. Bennet, turned us both out of doors, declaring she would send

my rags after me, but would never more permit me to set my foot within

her threshold.

"Consider, dear madam, to what a wretched condition we were now

reduced. I had not yet received the small legacy left me by my father;

nor was Mr. Bennet master of five pounds in the whole world.

"In this situation, the man I doated on to distraction had but little

difficulty to persuade me to a proposal which, indeed, I thought

generous in him to make, as it seemed to proceed from that tenderness

for my reputation to which he ascribed it; indeed, it could proceed

from no motive with which I should have been displeased. In a word,

within two days we were man and wife.

"Mr. Bennet now declared himself the happiest of men; and, for my

part, I sincerely declared I envied no woman upon earth. How little,

alas! did I then know or suspect the price I was to pay for all my

joys! A match of real love is, indeed, truly paradise; and such

perfect happiness seems to be the forbidden fruit to mortals, which we

are to lament having tasted during the rest of our lives.

"The first uneasiness which attacked us after our marriage was on my

aunt's account. It was very disagreeable to live under the nose of so

near a relation, who did not acknowledge us, but on the contrary, was

ever doing us all the ill turns in her power, and making a party

against us in the parish, which is always easy enough to do amongst

the vulgar against persons who are their superiors in rank, and, at

the same time, their inferiors in fortune. This made Mr. Bennet think

of procuring an exchange, in which intention he was soon after

confirmed by the arrival of the rector. It was the rector's custom to

spend three months every year at his living, for which purpose he

reserved an apartment in his parsonage-house, which was full large

enough for two such little families as then occupied it. We at first

promised ourselves some little convenience from his boarding with us;

and Mr. Bennet began to lay aside his thoughts of leaving his curacy,

at least for some time. But these golden ideas presently vanished;

for, though we both used our utmost endeavours to please him, we soon

found the impossibility of succeeding. He was, indeed, to give you his

character in a word, the most peevish of mortals. This temper,

notwithstanding that he was both a good and a pious man, made his

company so insufferable that nothing could compensate it. If his

breakfast was not ready to a moment--if a dish of meat was too much or

too little done--in short, if anything failed of exactly hitting his

taste, he was sure to be out of humour all that day, so that, indeed,

he was scarce ever in a good temper a whole day together; for fortune

seems to take a delight in thwarting this kind of disposition, to

which human life, with its many crosses and accidents, is, in truth,

by no means fitted.

"Mr. Bennet was now, by my desire as well as his own, determined to

quit the parish; but when he attempted to get an exchange, he found it

a matter of more difficulty than he had apprehended; for the rector's

temper was so well known among the neighbouring clergy, that none of

them could be brought to think of spending three months in a year with

him.

"After many fruitless enquiries, Mr. Bennet thought best to remove to

London, the great mart of all affairs, ecclesiastical and civil. This

project greatly pleased him, and he resolved, without more delay, to

take his leave of the rector, which he did in the most friendly manner

possible, and preached his farewell sermon; nor was there a dry eye in

the church, except among the few, whom my aunt, who remained still

inexorable, had prevailed upon to hate us without any cause.

"To London we came, and took up our lodging the first night at the inn

where the stage-coach set us down: the next morning my husband went

out early on his business, and returned with the good news of having

heard of a curacy, and of having equipped himself with a lodging in

the neighbourhood of a worthy peer, 'who,' said he, 'was my fellow-

collegiate; and, what is more, I have a direction to a person who will

advance your legacy at a very reasonable rate.'

"This last particular was extremely agreeable to me, for our last

guinea was now broached; and the rector had lent my husband ten pounds

to pay his debts in the country, for, with all his peevishness, he was

a good and a generous man, and had, indeed, so many valuable

qualities, that I lamented his temper, after I knew him thoroughly, as

much on his account as on my own.

"We now quitted the inn and went to our lodgings, where my husband

having placed me in safety, as he said, he went about the business of

the legacy with good assurance of success.

"My husband returned elated with his success, the person to whom he

applied having undertaken to advance the legacy, which he fulfilled as

soon as the proper enquiries could be made, and proper instruments

prepared for that purpose.

"This, however, took up so much time, that, as our fund was so very

low, we were reduced to some distress, and obliged to live extremely

penurious; nor would all do without my taking a most disagreeable way

of procuring money by pawning one of my gowns.

"Mr. Bennet was now settled in a curacy in town, greatly to his

satisfaction, and our affairs seemed to have a prosperous aspect, when

he came home to me one morning in much apparent disorder, looking as

pale as death, and begged me by some means or other to get him a dram,

for that he was taken with a sudden faintness and lowness of spirits.

"Frighted as I was, I immediately ran downstairs, and procured some

rum of the mistress of the house; the first time, indeed, I ever knew

him drink any. When he came to himself he begged me not to be alarmed,

for it was no distemper, but something that had vexed him, which had

caused his disorder, which he had now perfectly recovered.

"He then told me the whole affair. He had hitherto deferred paying a

visit to the lord whom I mentioned to have been formerly his fellow-

collegiate, and was now his neighbour, till he could put himself in

decent rigging. He had now purchased a new cassock, hat, and wig, and

went to pay his respects to his old acquaintance, who had received

from him many civilities and assistances in his learning at the

university, and had promised to return them fourfold hereafter.

"It was not without some difficulty that Mr. Bennet got into the

antechamber. Here he waited, or as the phrase is, cooled his heels,

for above an hour before he saw his lordship; nor had he seen him then

but by an accident; for my lord was going out when he casually

intercepted him in his passage to his chariot. He approached to salute

him with some familiarity, though with respect, depending on his

former intimacy, when my lord, stepping short, very gravely told him

he had not the pleasure of knowing him. How! my lord, said he, can you

have so soon forgot your old acquaintance Tom Bennet? O, Mr. Bennet!

cries his lordship, with much reserve, is it you? you will pardon my

memory. I am glad to see you, Mr. Bennet, but you must excuse me at

present, for I am in very great haste. He then broke from him, and

without more ceremony, or any further invitation, went directly into

his chariot.

"This cold reception from a person for whom my husband had a real

friendship, and from whom he had great reason to expect a very warm

return of affection, so affected the poor man, that it caused all

those symptoms which I have mentioned before.

"Though this incident produced no material consequence, I could not

pass it over in silence, as, of all the misfortunes which ever befel

him, it affected my husband the most. I need not, however, to a woman

of your delicacy, make any comments on a behaviour which, though I

believe it is very common, is, nevertheless, cruel and base beyond

description, and is diametrically opposite to true honour as well as

to goodness.

"To relieve the uneasiness which my husband felt on account of his

false friend, I prevailed with him to go every night, almost for a

fortnight together, to the play; a diversion of which he was greatly

fond, and from which he did not think his being a clergyman excluded

him; indeed, it is very well if those austere persons who would be

inclined to censure him on this head have themselves no greater sins

to answer for.

"From this time, during three months, we past our time very agreeably,

a little too agreeably perhaps for our circumstances; for, however

innocent diversions may be in other respects, they must be owned to be

expensive. When you consider then, madam, that our income from the

curacy was less than forty pounds a year, and that, after payment of

the debt to the rector, and another to my aunt, with the costs in law

which she had occasioned by suing for it, my legacy was reduced to

less than seventy pounds, you will not wonder that, in diversions,

cloaths, and the common expenses of life, we had almost consumed our

whole stock.

"The inconsiderate manner in which we had lived for some time will, I

doubt not, appear to you to want some excuse; but I have none to make

for it. Two things, however, now happened, which occasioned much

serious reflexion to Mr. Bennet; the one was, that I grew near my

time; the other, that he now received a letter from Oxford, demanding

the debt of forty pounds which I mentioned to you before. The former

of these he made a pretence of obtaining a delay for the payment of

the latter, promising, in two months, to pay off half the debt, by

which means he obtained a forbearance during that time.

"I was now delivered of a son, a matter which should in reality have

encreased our concern, but, on the contrary, it gave us great

pleasure; greater indeed could not have been conceived at the birth of

an heir to the most plentiful estate: so entirely thoughtless were we,

and so little forecast had we of those many evils and distresses to

which we had rendered a human creature, and one so dear to us, liable.

The day of a christening is, in all families, I believe, a day of

jubilee and rejoicing; and yet, if we consider the interest of that

little wretch who is the occasion, how very little reason would the

most sanguine persons have for their joy!

"But, though our eyes were too weak to look forward, for the sake of

our child, we could not be blinded to those dangers that immediately

threatened ourselves. Mr. Bennet, at the expiration of the two months,

received a second letter from Oxford, in a very peremptory stile, and

threatening a suit without any farther delay. This alarmed us in the

strongest manner; and my husband, to secure his liberty, was advised

for a while to shelter himself in the verge of the court.

"And, now, madam, I am entering on that scene which directly leads to

all my misery."--Here she stopped, and wiped her eyes; and then,

begging Amelia to excuse her for a few minutes, ran hastily out of the

room, leaving Amelia by herself, while she refreshed her spirits with

a cordial to enable her to relate what follows in the next chapter.

Chapter vi.

_Farther continued._

Mrs. Bennet, returning into the room, made a short apology for her

absence, and then proceeded in these words:

"We now left our lodging, and took a second floor in that very house

where you now are, to which we were recommended by the woman where we

had before lodged, for the mistresses of both houses were acquainted;

and, indeed, we had been all at the play together. To this new lodging

then (such was our wretched destiny) we immediately repaired, and were

received by Mrs. Ellison (how can I bear the sound of that detested

name?) with much civility; she took care, however, during the first

fortnight of our residence, to wait upon us every Monday morning for

her rent; such being, it seems, the custom of this place, which, as it

was inhabited chiefly by persons in debt, is not the region of credit.

"My husband, by the singular goodness of the rector, who greatly

compassionated his case, was enabled to continue in his curacy, though

he could only do the duty on Sundays. He was, however, sometimes

obliged to furnish a person to officiate at his expence; so that our

income was very scanty, and the poor little remainder of the legacy

being almost spent, we were reduced to some difficulties, and, what

was worse, saw still a prospect of greater before our eyes.

"Under these circumstances, how agreeable to poor Mr. Bennet must have

been the behaviour of Mrs. Ellison, who, when he carried her her rent

on the usual day, told him, with a benevolent smile, that he needed

not to give himself the trouble of such exact punctuality. She added

that, if it was at any time inconvenient to him, he might pay her when

he pleased. 'To say the truth,' says she, 'I never was so much pleased

with any lodgers in my life; I am convinced, Mr. Bennet, you are a

very worthy man, and you are a very happy one too; for you have the

prettiest wife and the prettiest child I ever saw' These, dear madam,

were the words she was pleased to make use of: and I am sure she

behaved to me with such an appearance of friendship and affection,

that, as I could not perceive any possible views of interest which she

could have in her professions, I easily believed them real.

"There lodged in the same house--O, Mrs. Booth! the blood runs cold to

my heart, and should run cold to yours, when I name him--there lodged

in the same house a lord--the lord, indeed, whom I have since seen in

your company. This lord, Mrs. Ellison told me, had taken a great fancy

to my little Charley. Fool that I was, and blinded by my own passion,

which made me conceive that an infant, not three months old, could be

really the object of affection to any besides a parent, and more

especially to a gay young fellow! But, if I was silly in being

deceived, how wicked was the wretch who deceived me--who used such

art, and employed such pains, such incredible pains, to deceive me! He

acted the part of a nurse to my little infant; he danced it, he lulled

it, he kissed it; declared it was the very picture of a nephew of his

--his favourite sister's child; and said so many kind and fond things

of its beauty, that I myself, though, I believe, one of the tenderest

and fondest of mothers, scarce carried my own ideas of my little

darling's perfection beyond the compliments which he paid it.

"My lord, however, perhaps from modesty, before my face, fell far

short of what Mrs. Ellison reported from him. And now, when she found

the impression which was made on me by these means, she took every

opportunity of insinuating to me his lordship's many virtues, his

great goodness to his sister's children in particular; nor did she

fail to drop some hints which gave me the most simple and groundless

hopes of strange consequences from his fondness to my Charley.

"When, by these means, which, simple as they may appear, were,

perhaps, the most artful, my lord had gained something more, I think,

than my esteem, he took the surest method to confirm himself in my

affection. This was, by professing the highest friendship for my

husband; for, as to myself, I do assure you he never shewed me more

than common respect; and I hope you will believe I should have

immediately startled and flown off if he had. Poor I accounted for all

the friendship which he expressed for my husband, and all the fondness

which he shewed to my boy, from the great prettiness of the one and

the great merit of the other; foolishly conceiving that others saw

with my eyes and felt with my heart. Little did I dream that my own

unfortunate person was the fountain of all this lord's goodness, and

was the intended price of it.

"One evening, as I was drinking tea with Mrs. Ellison by my lord's

fire (a liberty which she never scrupled taking when he was gone out),

my little Charley, now about half a year old, sitting in her lap, my

lord--accidentally, no doubt, indeed I then thought it so--came in. I

was confounded, and offered to go; but my lord declared, if he

disturbed Mrs. Ellison's company, as he phrased it, he would himself

leave the room. When I was thus prevailed on to keep my seat, my lord

immediately took my little baby into his lap, and gave it some tea

there, not a little at the expense of his embroidery; for he was very

richly drest; indeed, he was as fine a figure as perhaps ever was

seen. His behaviour on this occasion gave me many ideas in his favour.

I thought he discovered good sense, good nature, condescension, and

other good qualities, by the fondness he shewed to my child, and the

contempt he seemed to express for his finery, which so greatly became

him; for I cannot deny but that he was the handsomest and genteelest

person in the world, though such considerations advanced him not a

step in my favour.

"My husband now returned from church (for this happened on a Sunday),

and was, by my lord's particular desire, ushered into the room. My

lord received him with the utmost politeness, and with many

professions of esteem, which, he said, he had conceived from Mrs.

Ellison's representations of his merit. He then proceeded to mention

the living which was detained from my husband, of which Mrs. Ellison

had likewise informed him; and said, he thought it would be no

difficult matter to obtain a restoration of it by the authority of the

bishop, who was his particular friend, and to whom he would take an

immediate opportunity of mentioning it. This, at last, he determined

to do the very next day, when he invited us both to dinner, where we

were to be acquainted with his lordship's success.

"My lord now insisted on my husband's staying supper with him, without

taking any notice of me; but Mrs. Ellison declared he should not part

man and wife, and that she herself would stay with me. The motion was

too agreeable to me to be rejected; and, except the little time I

retired to put my child to bed, we spent together the most agreeable

evening imaginable; nor was it, I believe, easy to decide whether Mr.

Bennet or myself were most delighted with his lordship and Mrs.

Ellison; but this, I assure you, the generosity of the one, and the

extreme civility and kindness of the other, were the subjects of our

conversation all the ensuing night, during which we neither of us

closed our eyes.

"The next day at dinner my lord acquainted us that he had prevailed

with the bishop to write to the clergyman in the country; indeed, he

told us that he had engaged the bishop to be very warm in our

interest, and had not the least doubt of success. This threw us both

into a flow of spirits; and in the afternoon Mr. Bennet, at Mrs.

Ellison's request, which was seconded by his lordship, related the

history of our lives from our first acquaintance. My lord seemed much

affected with some tender scenes, which, as no man could better feel,

so none could better describe, than my husband. When he had finished,

my lord begged pardon for mentioning an occurrence which gave him such

a particular concern, as it had disturbed that delicious state of

happiness in which we had lived at our former lodging. 'It would be

ungenerous,' said he, 'to rejoice at an accident which, though it

brought me fortunately acquainted with two of the most agreeable

people in the world, was yet at the expense of your mutual felicity.

The circumstance, I mean, is your debt at Oxford; pray, how doth that

stand? I am resolved it shall never disturb your happiness hereafter.'

At these words the tears burst from my poor husband's eyes; and, in an

ecstasy of gratitude, he cried out, 'Your lordship overcomes me with

generosity. If you go on in this manner, both my wife's gratitude and

mine must be bankrupt' He then acquainted my lord with the exact state

of the case, and received assurances from him that the debt should

never trouble him. My husband was again breaking out into the warmest

expressions of gratitude, but my lord stopt him short, saying, 'If you

have any obligation, it is to my little Charley here, from whose

little innocent smiles I have received more than the value of this

trifling debt in pleasure.' I forgot to tell you that, when I offered

to leave the room after dinner upon my child's account, my lord would

not suffer me, but ordered the child to be brought to me. He now took

it out of my arms, placed it upon his own knee, and fed it with some

fruit from the dessert. In short, it would be more tedious to you than

to myself to relate the thousand little tendernesses he shewed to the

child. He gave it many baubles; amongst the rest was a coral worth at

least three pounds; and, when my husband was confined near a fortnight

to his chamber with a cold, he visited the child every day (for to

this infant's account were all the visits placed), and seldom failed

of accompanying his visit with a present to the little thing.

"Here, Mrs. Booth, I cannot help mentioning a doubt which hath often

arisen in my mind since I have been enough mistress of myself to

reflect on this horrid train which was laid to blow up my innocence.

Wicked and barbarous it was to the highest degree without any

question; but my doubt is, whether the art or folly of it be the more

conspicuous; for, however delicate and refined the art must be allowed

to have been, the folly, I think, must upon a fair examination appear

no less astonishing: for to lay all considerations of cruelty and

crime out of the case, what a foolish bargain doth the man make for

himself who purchases so poor a pleasure at so high a price!

"We had lived near three weeks with as much freedom as if we had been

all of the same family, when, one afternoon, my lord proposed to my

husband to ride down himself to solicit the surrender; for he said the

bishop had received an unsatisfactory answer from the parson, and had

writ a second letter more pressing, which his lordship now promised us

to strengthen by one of his own that my husband was to carry with him.

Mr. Bennet agreed to this proposal with great thankfulness, and the

next day was appointed for his journey. The distance was near seventy

miles.

"My husband set out on his journey, and he had scarce left me before

Mrs. Ellison came into my room, and endeavoured to comfort me in his

absence; to say the truth, though he was to be from me but a few days,

and the purpose of his going was to fix our happiness on a sound

foundation for all our future days, I could scarce support my spirits

under this first separation. But though I then thought Mrs. Ellison's

intentions to be most kind and friendly, yet the means she used were

utterly ineffectual, and appeared to me injudicious. Instead of

soothing my uneasiness, which is always the first physic to be given

to grief, she rallied me upon it, and began to talk in a very unusual

stile of gaiety, in which she treated conjugal love with much

ridicule.

"I gave her to understand that she displeased me by this discourse;

but she soon found means to give such a turn to it as made a merit of

all she had said. And now, when she had worked me into a good humour,

she made a proposal to me which I at first rejected--but at last

fatally, too fatally, suffered myself to be over-persuaded. This was

to go to a masquerade at Ranelagh, for which my lord had furnished her

with tickets."

At these words Amelia turned pale as death, and hastily begged her

friend to give her a glass of water, some air, or anything. Mrs.

Bennet, having thrown open the window, and procured the water, which

prevented Amelia from fainting, looked at her with much tenderness,

and cried, "I do not wonder, my dear madam, that you are affected with

my mentioning that fatal masquerade; since I firmly believe the same

ruin was intended for you at the same place; the apprehension of which

occasioned the letter I sent you this morning, and all the trial of

your patience which I have made since."

Amelia gave her a tender embrace, with many expressions of the warmest

gratitude; assured her she had pretty well recovered her spirits, and

begged her to continue her story, which Mrs. Bennet then did. However,

as our readers may likewise be glad to recover their spirits also, we

shall here put an end to this chapter.

Chapter vii.

_The story farther continued._

Mrs. Bennet proceeded thus:

"I was at length prevailed on to accompany Mrs. Ellison to the

masquerade. Here, I must confess, the pleasantness of the place, the

variety of the dresses, and the novelty of the thing, gave me much

delight, and raised my fancy to the highest pitch. As I was entirely

void of all suspicion, my mind threw off all reserve, and pleasure

only filled my thoughts. Innocence, it is true, possessed my heart;

but it was innocence unguarded, intoxicated with foolish desires, and

liable to every temptation. During the first two hours we had many

trifling adventures not worth remembering. At length my lord joined

us, and continued with me all the evening; and we danced several

dances together.

"I need not, I believe, tell you, madam, how engaging his conversation

is. I wish I could with truth say I was not pleased with it; or, at

least, that I had a right to be pleased with it. But I will disguise

nothing from you. I now began to discover that he had some affection

for me, but he had already too firm a footing in my esteem to make the

discovery shocking. I will--I will own the truth; I was delighted with

perceiving a passion in him, which I was not unwilling to think he had

had from the beginning, and to derive his having concealed it so long

from his awe of my virtue, and his respect to my understanding. I

assure you, madam, at the same time, my intentions were never to

exceed the bounds of innocence. I was charmed with the delicacy of his

passion; and, in the foolish thoughtless turn of mind in which I then

was, I fancied I might give some very distant encouragement to such a

passion in such a man with the utmost safety--that I might indulge my

vanity and interest at once, without being guilty of the least injury.

"I know Mrs. Booth will condemn all these thoughts, and I condemn them

no less myself; for it is now my stedfast opinion that the woman who

gives up the least outwork of her virtue doth, in that very moment,

betray the citadel.

"About two o'clock we returned home, and found a very handsome

collation provided for us. I was asked to partake of it, and I did

not, I could not refuse. I was not, however, entirely void of all

suspicion, and I made many resolutions; one of which was, not to drink

a drop more than my usual stint. This was, at the utmost, little more

than half a pint of small punch.

"I adhered strictly to my quantity; but in the quality I am convinced

I was deceived; for before I left the room I found my head giddy. What

the villain gave me I know not; but, besides being intoxicated, I

perceived effects from it which are not to be described.

"Here, madam, I must draw a curtain over the residue of that fatal

night. Let it suffice that it involved me in the most dreadful ruin; a

ruin to which I can truly say I never consented, and of which I was

scarce conscious when the villanous man avowed it to my face in the

morning.

"Thus I have deduced my story to the most horrid period; happy had I

been had this been the period of my life, but I was reserved for

greater miseries; but before I enter on them I will mention something

very remarkable, with which I was now acquainted, and that will shew

there was nothing of accident which had befallen me, but that all was

the effect of a long, regular, premeditated design.

"You may remember, madam, I told you that we were recommended to Mrs.

Ellison by the woman at whose house we had before lodged. This woman,

it seems, was one of my lord's pimps, and had before introduced me to

his lordship's notice.

"You are to know then, madam, that this villain, this lord, now

confest to me that he had first seen me in the gallery at the

oratorio, whither I had gone with tickets with which the woman where I

first lodged had presented me, and which were, it seems, purchased by

my lord. Here I first met the vile betrayer, who was disguised in a

rug coat and a patch upon his face."

At these words Amelia cried, "O, gracious heavens!" and fell back in

her chair. Mrs. Bennet, with proper applications, brought her back to

life; and then Amelia acquainted her that she herself had first seen

the same person in the same place, and in the same disguise. "O, Mrs.

Bennet!" cried she, "how am I indebted to you! what words, what

thanks, what actions can demonstrate the gratitude of my sentiments! I

look upon you, and always shall look upon you, as my preserver from

the brink of a precipice, from which I was falling into the same ruin

which you have so generously, so kindly, and so nobly disclosed for my

sake."

Here the two ladies compared notes; and it appeared that his

lordship's behaviour at the oratorio had been alike to both; that he

had made use of the very same words, the very same actions to Amelia,

which he had practised over before on poor unfortunate Mrs. Bennet. It

may, perhaps, be thought strange that neither of them could afterwards

recollect him; but so it was. And, indeed, if we consider the force of

disguise, the very short time that either of them was with him at this

first interview, and the very little curiosity that must have been

supposed in the minds of the ladies, together with the amusement in

which they were then engaged, all wonder will, I apprehend, cease.

Amelia, however, now declared she remembered his voice and features

perfectly well, and was thoroughly satisfied he was the same person.

She then accounted for his not having visited in the afternoon,

according to his promise, from her declared resolutions to Mrs.

Ellison not to see him. She now burst forth into some very satirical

invectives against that lady, and declared she had the art, as well as

the wickedness, of the devil himself.

Many congratulations now past from Mrs. Bennet to Amelia, which were

returned with the most hearty acknowledgments from that lady. But,

instead of filling our paper with these, we shall pursue Mrs. Bennet's

story, which she resumed as we shall find in the next chapter.

Chapter viii.

_Further continuation._

"No sooner," said Mrs. Bennet, continuing her story, "was my lord

departed, than Mrs. Ellison came to me. She behaved in such a manner,

when she became acquainted with what had past, that, though I was at

first satisfied of her guilt, she began to stagger my opinion, and at

length prevailed upon me entirely to acquit her. She raved like a mad

woman against my lord, swore he should not stay a moment in her house,

and that she would never speak to him more. In short, had she been the

most innocent woman in the world, she could not have spoke nor acted

any otherwise, nor could she have vented more wrath and indignation

against the betrayer.

"That part of her denunciation of vengeance which concerned my lord's

leaving the house she vowed should be executed immediately; but then,

seeming to recollect herself, she said, 'Consider, my dear child, it

is for your sake alone I speak; will not such a proceeding give some

suspicion to your husband?' I answered, that I valued not that; that I

was resolved to inform my husband of all the moment I saw him; with

many expressions of detestation of myself and an indifference for life

and for everything else.

"Mrs. Ellison, however, found means to soothe me, and to satisfy me

with my own innocence, a point in which, I believe, we are all easily

convinced. In short, I was persuaded to acquit both myself and her, to

lay the whole guilt upon my lord, and to resolve to conceal it from my

husband.

"That whole day I confined myself to my chamber and saw no person but

Mrs. Ellison. I was, indeed, ashamed to look any one in the face.

Happily for me, my lord went into the country without attempting to

come near me, for I believe his sight would have driven me to madness.

"The next day I told Mrs. Ellison that I was resolved to leave her

lodgings the moment my lord came to town; not on her account (for I

really inclined to think her innocent), but on my lord's, whose face I

was resolved, if possible, never more to behold. She told me I had no

reason to quit her house on that score, for that my lord himself had

left her lodgings that morning in resentment, she believed, of the

abuses Which she had cast on him the day before.

"This confirmed me in the opinion of her innocence; nor hath she from

that day to this, till my acquaintance with you, madam, done anything

to forfeit my opinion. On the contrary, I owe her many good offices;

amongst the rest, I have an annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds a-

year from my lord, which I know was owing to her solicitations, for

she is not void of generosity or good-nature; though by what I have

lately seen, I am convinced she was the cause of my ruin, and hath

endeavoured to lay the same snares for you.

"But to return to my melancholy story. My husband returned at the

appointed time; and I met him with an agitation of mind not to be

described. Perhaps the fatigue which he had undergone in his journey,

and his dissatisfaction at his ill success, prevented his taking

notice of what I feared was too visible. All his hopes were entirely

frustrated; the clergyman had not received the bishop's letter, and as

to my lord's he treated it with derision and contempt. Tired as he

was, Mr. Bennet would not sit down till he had enquired for my lord,

intending to go and pay his compliments. Poor man! he little suspected

that he had deceived him, as I have since known, concerning the

bishop; much less did he suspect any other injury. But the lord--the

villain was gone out of town, so that he was forced to postpone all

his gratitude.

"Mr. Bennet returned to town late on the Saturday night, nevertheless

he performed his duty at church the next day, but I refused to go with

him. This, I think, was the first refusal I was guilty of since our

marriage; but I was become so miserable, that his presence, which had

been the source of all my happiness, was become my bane. I will not

say I hated to see him, but I can say I was ashamed, indeed afraid, to

look him in the face. I was conscious of I knew not what--guilt I hope

it cannot be called."

"I hope not, nay, I think not," cries Amelia.

"My husband," continued Mrs. Bennet, "perceived my dissatisfaction,

and imputed it to his ill-success in the country. I was pleased with

this self-delusion, and yet, when I fairly compute the agonies I

suffered at his endeavours to comfort me on that head, I paid most

severely for it. O, my dear Mrs. Booth! happy is the deceived party

between true lovers, and wretched indeed is the author of the deceit!

"In this wretched condition I passed a whole week, the most miserable

I think of my whole life, endeavouring to humour my husband's delusion

and to conceal my own tortures; but I had reason to fear I could not

succeed long, for on the Saturday night I perceived a visible

alteration in his behaviour to me. He went to bed in an apparent ill-

humour, turned sullenly from me, and if I offered at any endearments

he gave me only peevish answers.

"After a restless turbulent night, he rose early on Sunday morning and

walked down-stairs. I expected his return to breakfast, but was soon

informed by the maid that he was gone forth, and that it was no more

than seven o'clock. All this you may believe, madam, alarmed me. I saw

plainly he had discovered the fatal secret, though by what means I

could not divine. The state of my mind was very little short of

madness. Sometimes I thought of running away from my injured husband,

and sometimes of putting an end to my life.

"In the midst of such perturbations I spent the day. My husband

returned in the evening. O, Heavens! can I describe what followed?--It

is impossible! I shall sink under the relation. He entered the room

with a face as white as a sheet, his lips trembling and his eyes red

as coals of fire starting as it were from his head.--'Molly,' cries

he, throwing himself into his chair, 'are you well?' 'Good Heavens!'

says I, 'what's the matter?--Indeed I can't say I am well.' 'No!' says

he, starting from his chair, 'false monster, you have betrayed me,

destroyed me, you have ruined your husband!' Then looking like a fury,

he snatched off a large book from the table, and, with the malice of a

madman, threw it at my head and knocked me down backwards. He then

caught me up in his arms and kissed me with most extravagant

tenderness; then, looking me stedfastly in the face for several

moments, the tears gushed in a torrent from his eyes, and with his

utmost violence he threw me again on the floor, kicked me, stamped

upon me. I believe, indeed, his intent was to kill me, and I believe

he thought he had accomplished it.

"I lay on the ground for some minutes, I believe, deprived of my

senses. When I recovered myself I found my husband lying by my side on

his face, and the blood running from him. It seems, when he thought he

had despatched me, he ran his head with all his force against a chest

of drawers which stood in the room, and gave himself a dreadful wound

in his head.

"I can truly say I felt not the least resentment for the usage I had

received; I thought I deserved it all; though, indeed, I little

guessed what he had suffered from me. I now used the most earnest

entreaties to him to compose himself; and endeavoured, with my feeble

arms, to raise him from the ground. At length he broke from me, and,

springing from the ground, flung himself into a chair, when, looking

wildly at me, he cried--'Go from me, Molly. I beseech you, leave me. I

would not kill you.'--He then discovered to me--O Mrs. Booth! can you

not guess it?--I was indeed polluted by the villain--I had infected my

husband.--O heavens! why do I live to relate anything so horrid--I

will not, I cannot yet survive it. I cannot forgive myself. Heaven

cannot forgive me!"

Here she became inarticulate with the violence of her grief, and fell

presently into such agonies, that the frighted Amelia began to call

aloud for some assistance. Upon this a maid-servant came up, who,

seeing her mistress in a violent convulsion fit, presently screamed

out she was dead. Upon which one of the other sex made his appearance:

and who should this be but the honest serjeant? whose countenance soon

made it evident that, though a soldier, and a brave one too, he was

not the least concerned of all the company on this occasion.

The reader, if he hath been acquainted with scenes of this kind, very

well knows that Mrs. Bennet, in the usual time, returned again to the

possession of her voice: the first use of which she made was to

express her astonishment at the presence of the serjeant, and, with a

frantic air, to enquire who he was.

The maid, concluding that her mistress was not yet returned to her

senses, answered, "Why, 'tis my master, madam. Heaven preserve your

senses, madam!--Lord, sir, my mistress must be very bad not to know

you!"

What Atkinson thought at this instant, I will not say; but certain it

is he looked not over-wise. He attempted twice to take hold of Mrs.

Bennet's hand, but she withdrew it hastily, and presently after,

rising up from her chair, she declared herself pretty well again, and

desired Atkinson and the maid to withdraw. Both of whom presently

obeyed: the serjeant appearing by his countenance to want comfort

almost as much as the lady did to whose assistance he had been

summoned,

It is a good maxim to trust a person entirely or not at all; for a

secret is often innocently blabbed out by those who know but half of

it. Certain it is that the maid's speech communicated a suspicion to

the mind of Amelia which the behaviour of the serjeant did not tend to

remove: what that is, the sagacious readers may likewise probably

suggest to themselves; if not, they must wait our time for disclosing

it. We shall now resume the history of Mrs. Bennet, who, after many

apologies, proceeded to the matters in the next chapter.

Chapter ix.

_The conclusion of Mrs. Bennet's history._

"When I became sensible," cries Mrs. Bennet, "of the injury I had done

my husband, I threw myself at his feet, and embracing his knees, while

I bathed them with my tears, I begged a patient hearing, declaring, if

he was not satisfied with what I should say, I would become a willing

victim of his resentment, I said, and I said truly, that, if I owed my

death that instant to his hands, I should have no other terrour but of

the fatal consequence which it might produce to himself.

"He seemed a little pacified, and bid me say whatever I pleased.

"I then gave him a faithful relation of all that had happened. He

heard me with great attention, and at the conclusion cried, with a

deep sigh--'O Molly! I believe it all.--You must have been betrayed as

you tell me; you could not be guilty of such baseness, such cruelty,

such ingratitude.' He then--O! it is impossible to describe his

behaviour--he exprest such kindness, such tenderness, such concern for

the manner in which he had used me--I cannot dwell on this scene--I

shall relapse--you must excuse me."

Amelia begged her to omit anything which so affected her; and she

proceeded thus: "My husband, who was more convinced than I was of Mrs.

Ellison's guilt, declared he would not sleep that night in her house.

He then went out to see for a lodging; he gave me all the money he

had, and left me to pay her bill, and put up the cloaths, telling me,

if I had not money enough, I might leave the cloaths as a pledge; but

he vowed he could not answer for himself if he saw the face of Mrs.

Ellison.

"Words cannot scarce express the behaviour of that artful woman, it

was so kind and so generous. She said, she did not blame my husband's

resentment, nor could she expect any other, but that he and all the

world should censure her--that she hated her house almost as much as

we did, and detested her cousin, if possible, more. In fine, she said

I might leave my cloaths there that evening, but that she would send

them to us the next morning; that she scorned the thought of detaining

them; and as for the paultry debt, we might pay her whenever we

pleased; for, to do her justice, with all her vices, she hath some

good in her."

"Some good in her, indeed!" cried Amelia, with great indignation.

"We were scarce settled in our new lodgings," continued Mrs. Bennet,

"when my husband began to complain of a pain in his inside. He told me

he feared he had done himself some injury in his rage, and burst

something within him. As to the odious--I cannot bear the thought, the

great skill of his surgeon soon entirely cured him; but his other

complaint, instead of yielding to any application, grew still worse

and worse, nor ever ended till it brought him to his grave.

"O Mrs. Booth! could I have been certain that I had occasioned this,

however innocently I had occasioned it, I could never have survived

it; but the surgeon who opened him after his death assured me that he

died of what they called a polypus in his heart, and that nothing

which had happened on account of me was in the least the occasion of

it.

"I have, however, related the affair truly to you. The first complaint

I ever heard of the kind was within a day or two after we left Mrs.

Ellison's; and this complaint remained till his death, which might

induce him perhaps to attribute his death to another cause; but the

surgeon, who is a man of the highest eminence, hath always declared

the contrary to me, with the most positive certainty; and this opinion

hath been my only comfort.

"When my husband died, which was about ten weeks after we quitted Mrs.

Ellison's, of whom I had then a different opinion from what I have

now, I was left in the most wretched condition imaginable. I believe,

madam, she shewed you my letter. Indeed, she did everything for me at

that time which I could have expected from the best of friends, She

supplied me with money from her own pocket, by which means I was

preserved from a distress in which I must have otherwise inevitably

perished.

"Her kindness to me in this season of distress prevailed on me to

return again to her house. Why, indeed, should I have refused an offer

so very convenient for me to accept, and which seemed so generous in

her to make? Here I lived a very retired life with my little babe,

seeing no company but Mrs. Ellison herself for a full quarter of a

year. At last Mrs. Ellison brought me a parchment from my lord, in

which he had settled upon me, at her instance, as she told me, and as

I believe it was, an annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds a-year.

This was, I think, the very first time she had mentioned his hateful

name to me since my return to her house. And she now prevailed upon

me, though I assure you not without some difficulty, to suffer him to

execute the deed in my presence.

"I will not describe our interview--I am not able to describe it, and

I have often wondered how I found spirits to support it. This I will

say for him, that, if he was not a real penitent, no man alive could

act the part better.

"Beside resentment, I had another motive of my backwardness to agree

to such a meeting; and this was--fear. I apprehended, and surely not

without reason, that the annuity was rather meant as a bribe than a

recompence, and that further designs were laid against my innocence;

but in this I found myself happily deceived; for neither then, nor at

any time since, have I ever had the least solicitation of that kind.

Nor, indeed, have I seen the least occasion to think my lord had any

such desires.

"Good heavens! what are these men? what is this appetite which must

have novelty and resistance for its provocatives, and which is

delighted with us no longer than while we may be considered in the

light of enemies?"

"I thank you, madam," cries Amelia, "for relieving me from my fears on

your account; I trembled at the consequence of this second

acquaintance with such a man, and in such a situation."

"I assure you, madam, I was in no danger," returned Mrs. Bennet; "for,

besides that I think I could have pretty well relied on my own

resolution, I have heard since, at St Edmundsbury, from an intimate

acquaintance of my lord's, who was an entire stranger to my affairs,

that the highest degree of inconstancy is his character; and that few

of his numberless mistresses have ever received a second visit from

him.

"Well, madam," continued she, "I think I have little more to trouble

you with; unless I should relate to you my long ill state of health,

from which I am lately, I thank Heaven, recovered; or unless I should

mention to you the most grievous accident that ever befel me, the loss

of my poor dear Charley." Here she made a full stop, and the tears ran

down into her bosom.

Amelia was silent a few minutes, while she gave the lady time to vent

her passion; after which she began to pour forth a vast profusion of

acknowledgments for the trouble she had taken in relating her history,

but chiefly for the motive which had induced her to it, and for the

kind warning which she had given her by the little note which Mrs.

Bennet had sent her that morning.

"Yes, madam," cries Mrs. Bennet, "I am convinced, by what I have

lately seen, that you are the destined sacrifice to this wicked lord;

and that Mrs. Ellison, whom I no longer doubt to have been the

instrument of my ruin, intended to betray you in the same manner. The

day I met my lord in your apartment I began to entertain some

suspicions, and I took Mrs. Ellison very roundly to task upon them;

her behaviour, notwithstanding many asseverations to the contrary,

convinced me I was right; and I intended, more than once, to speak to

you, but could not; till last night the mention of the masquerade

determined me to delay it no longer. I therefore sent you that note

this morning, and am glad you so luckily discovered the writer, as it

hath given me this opportunity of easing my mind, and of honestly

shewing you how unworthy I am of your friendship, at the same time

that I so earnestly desire it."

Chapter x.

_Being the last chapter of the seventh book._

Amelia did not fail to make proper compliments to Mrs. Bennet on the

conclusion of her speech in the last chapter. She told her that, from

the first moment of her acquaintance, she had the strongest

inclination to her friendship, and that her desires of that kind were

much increased by hearing her story. "Indeed, madam," says she, "you

are much too severe a judge on yourself; for they must have very

little candour, in my opinion, who look upon your case with any severe

eye. To me, I assure you, you appear highly the object of compassion;

and I shall always esteem you as an innocent and an unfortunate

woman."

Amelia would then have taken her leave, but Mrs. Bennet so strongly

pressed her to stay to breakfast, that at length she complied; indeed,

she had fasted so long, and her gentle spirits had been so agitated

with variety of passions, that nature very strongly seconded Mrs.

Bennet's motion.

Whilst the maid was preparing the tea-equipage, Amelia, with a little

slyness in her countenance, asked Mrs. Bennet if serjeant Atkinson did

not lodge in the same house with her? The other reddened so extremely

at the question, repeated the serjeant's name with such hesitation,

and behaved so aukwardly, that Amelia wanted no further confirmation

of her suspicions. She would not, however, declare them abruptly to

the other, but began a dissertation on the serjeant's virtues; and,

after observing the great concern which he had manifested when Mrs.

Bennet was in her fit, concluded with saying she believed the serjeant

would make the best husband in the world, for that he had great

tenderness of heart and a gentleness of manners not often to be found

in any man, and much seldomer in persons of his rank.

"And why not in his rank?" said Mrs. Bennet. "Indeed, Mrs. Booth, we

rob the lower order of mankind of their due. I do not deny the force

and power of education; but, when we consider how very injudicious is

the education of the better sort in general, how little they are

instructed in the practice of virtue, we shall not expect to find the

heart much improved by it. And even as to the head, how very slightly

do we commonly find it improved by what is called a genteel education!

I have myself, I think, seen instances of as great goodness, and as

great understanding too, among the lower sort of people as among the

higher. Let us compare your serjeant, now, with the lord who hath been

the subject of conversation; on which side would an impartial judge

decide the balance to incline?"

"How monstrous then," cries Amelia, "is the opinion of those who

consider our matching ourselves the least below us in degree as a kind

of contamination!"

"A most absurd and preposterous sentiment," answered Mrs. Bennet

warmly; "how abhorrent from justice, from common sense, and from

humanity--but how extremely incongruous with a religion which

professes to know no difference of degree, but ranks all mankind on

the footing of brethren! Of all kinds of pride, there is none so

unchristian as that of station; in reality, there is none so

contemptible. Contempt, indeed, may be said to be its own object; for

my own part, I know none so despicable as those who despise others."

"I do assure you," said Amelia, "you speak my own sentiments. I give

you my word, I should not be ashamed of being the wife of an honest

man in any station.--Nor if I had been much higher than I was, should

I have thought myself degraded by calling our honest serjeant my

husband."

"Since you have made this declaration," cries Mrs. Bennet, "I am sure

you will not be offended at a secret I am going to mention to you."

"Indeed, my dear," answered Amelia, smiling, "I wonder rather you have

concealed it so long; especially after the many hints I have given

you."

"Nay, pardon me, madam," replied the other; "I do not remember any

such hints; and, perhaps, you do not even guess what I am going to

say. My secret is this; that no woman ever had so sincere, so

passionate a lover, as you have had in the serjeant."

"I a lover in the serjeant!--I!" cries Amelia, a little surprized.

"Have patience," answered the other;--"I say, you, my dear. As much

surprized as you appear, I tell you no more than the truth; and yet it

is a truth you could hardly expect to hear from me, especially with so

much good-humour; since I will honestly confess to you.--But what need

have I to confess what I know you guess already?--Tell me now

sincerely, don't you guess?"

"I guess, indeed, and hope," said she, "that he is your husband."

"He is, indeed, my husband," cries the other; "and I am most happy in

your approbation. In honest truth, you ought to approve my choice;

since you was every way the occasion of my making it. What you said of

him very greatly recommended him to my opinion; but he endeared

himself to me most by what he said of you. In short, I have discovered

that he hath always loved you with such a faithful, honest, noble,

generous passion, that I was consequently convinced his mind must

possess all the ingredients of such a passion; and what are these but

true honour, goodness, modesty, bravery, tenderness, and, in a word,

every human virtue?--Forgive me, my dear; but I was uneasy till I

became myself the object of such a passion."

"And do you really think," said Amelia, smiling, "that I shall forgive

you robbing me of such a lover? or, supposing what you banter me with

was true, do you really imagine you could change such a passion?"

"No, my dear," answered the other; "I only hope I have changed the

object; for be assured, there is no greater vulgar error than that it

is impossible for a man who loves one woman ever to love another. On

the contrary, it is certain that a man who can love one woman so well

at a distance will love another better that is nearer to him. Indeed,

I have heard one of the best husbands in the world declare, in the

presence of his wife, that he had always loved a princess with

adoration. These passions, which reside only in very amorous and very

delicate minds, feed only on the delicacies there growing; and leave

all the substantial food, and enough of the delicacy too, for the

wife."

The tea being now ready, Mrs. Bennet, or, if you please, for the

future, Mrs. Atkinson, proposed to call in her husband; but Amelia

objected. She said she should be glad to see him any other time, but

was then in the utmost hurry, as she had been three hours absent from

all she most loved. However, she had scarce drank a dish of tea before

she changed her mind; and, saying she would not part man and wife,

desired Mr. Atkinson might appear.

The maid answered that her master was not at home; which words she had

scarce spoken, when he knocked hastily at the door, and immediately

came running into the room, all pale and breathless, and, addressing

himself to Amelia, cried out, "I am sorry, my dear lady, to bring you

ill news; but Captain Booth"--"What! what!" cries Amelia, dropping the

tea-cup from her hand, "is anything the matter with him?"--"Don't be

frightened, my dear lady," said the serjeant: "he is in very good

health; but a misfortune hath happened."--" Are my children well?"

said Amelia.--"O, very well," answered the serjeant. "Pray, madam,

don't be frightened; I hope it will signify nothing--he is arrested,

but I hope to get him out of their damned hands immediately." "Where

is he?" cries Amelia; "I will go to him this instant!" "He begs you

will not," answered the serjeant. "I have sent his lawyer to him, and

am going back with Mrs. Ellison this moment; but I beg your ladyship,

for his sake, and for your own sake, not to go." "Mrs. Ellison! what

is Mrs. Ellison to do?" cries Amelia: "I must and will go." Mrs.

Atkinson then interposed, and begged that she would not hurry her

spirits, but compose herself, and go home to her children, whither she

would attend her. She comforted her with the thoughts that the captain

was in no immediate danger; that she could go to him when she would;

and desired her to let the serjeant return with Mrs. Ellison, saying

she might be of service, and that there was much wisdom, and no kind

of shame, in making use of bad people on certain occasions.

"And who," cries Amelia, a little come to herself, "hath done this

barbarous action?"

"One I am ashamed to name," cries the serjeant; "indeed I had always a

very different opinion of him: I could not have believed anything but

my own ears and eyes; but Dr Harrison is the man who hath done the

deed."

"Dr Harrison!" cries Amelia. "Well, then, there is an end of all

goodness in the world. I will never have a good opinion of any human

being more."

The serjeant begged that he might not be detained from the captain;

and that, if Amelia pleased to go home, he would wait upon her. But

she did not chuse to see Mrs. Ellison at this time; and, after a

little consideration, she resolved to stay where she was; and Mrs.

Atkinson agreed to go and fetch her children to her, it being not many

doors distant.

The serjeant then departed; Amelia, in her confusion, never having

once thought of wishing him joy on his marriage.

BOOK VIII.

Chapter i.

_Being the first chapter of the eighth book._

The history must now look a little backwards to those circumstances

which led to the catastrophe mentioned at the end of the last book.

When Amelia went out in the morning she left her children to the care

of her husband. In this amiable office he had been engaged near an

hour, and was at that very time lying along on the floor, and his

little things crawling and playing about him, when a most violent

knock was heard at the door; and immediately a footman, running

upstairs, acquainted him that his lady was taken violently ill, and

carried into Mrs. Chenevix's toy-shop.

Booth no sooner heard this account, which was delivered with great

appearance of haste and earnestness, than he leapt suddenly from the

floor, and, leaving his children, roaring at the news of their

mother's illness, in strict charge with his maid, he ran as fast as

his legs could carry him to the place; or towards the place rather:

for, before he arrived at the shop, a gentleman stopt him full butt,

crying, "Captain, whither so fast?"--Booth answered eagerly, "Whoever

you are, friend, don't ask me any questions now."--"You must pardon

me, captain," answered the gentleman; "but I have a little business

with your honour--In short, captain, I have a small warrant here in my

pocket against your honour, at the suit of one Dr Harrison." "You are

a bailiff then?" says Booth. "I am an officer, sir," answered the

other. "Well, sir, it is in vain to contend," cries Booth; "but let me

beg you will permit me only to step to Mrs. Chenevix's--I will attend

you, upon my honour, wherever you please; but my wife lies violently

ill there." "Oh, for that matter," answered the bailiff, "you may set

your heart at ease. Your lady, I hope, is very well; I assure you she

is not there. You will excuse me, captain, these are only stratagems

of war. _Bolus and virtus, quis in a hostess equirit?_" "Sir, I

honour your learning," cries Booth, "and could almost kiss you for

what you tell me. I assure you I would forgive you five hundred

arrests for such a piece of news. Well, sir, and whither am I to go

with you?" "O, anywhere: where your honour pleases," cries the

bailiff. "Then suppose we go to Brown's coffee-house," said the

prisoner. "No," answered the bailiff, "that will not do; that's in the

verge of the court." "Why then, to the nearest tavern," said Booth.

"No, not to a tavern," cries the other, "that is not a place of

security; and you know, captain, your honour is a shy cock; I have

been after your honour these three months. Come, sir, you must go to

my house, if you please." "With all my heart," answered Booth, "if it

be anywhere hereabouts." "Oh, it is but a little ways off," replied

the bailiff; "it is only in Gray's-inn-lane, just by almost." He then

called a coach, and desired his prisoner to walk in.

Booth entered the coach without any resistance, which, had he been

inclined to make, he must have plainly perceived would have been

ineffectual, as the bailiff appeared to have several followers at

hand, two of whom, beside the commander in chief, mounted with him

into the coach. As Booth was a sweet-tempered man, as well as somewhat

of a philosopher, he behaved with all the good-humour imaginable, and

indeed, with more than his companions; who, however, shewed him what

they call civility, that is, they neither struck him nor spit in his

face.

Notwithstanding the pleasantry which Booth endeavoured to preserve, he

in reality envied every labourer whom he saw pass by him in his way.

The charms of liberty, against his will, rushed on his mind; and he

could not avoid suggesting to himself how much more happy was the

poorest wretch who, without controul, could repair to his homely

habitation and to his family, compared to him, who was thus violently,

and yet lawfully, torn away from the company of his wife and children.

And their condition, especially that of his Amelia, gave his heart

many a severe and bitter pang.

At length he arrived at the bailiff's mansion, and was ushered into a

room in which were several persons. Booth desired to be alone; upon

which the bailiff waited on him up-stairs into an apartment, the

windows of which were well fortified with iron bars, but the walls had

not the least outwork raised before them; they were, indeed, what is

generally called naked; the bricks having been only covered with a

thin plaster, which in many places was mouldered away.

The first demand made upon Booth was for coach-hire, which amounted to

two shillings, according to the bailiff's account; that being just

double the legal fare. He was then asked if he did not chuse a bowl of

punch? to which he having answered in the negative, the bailiff

replied, "Nay, sir, just as you please. I don't ask you to drink, if

you don't chuse it; but certainly you know the custom; the house is

full of prisoners, and I can't afford gentlemen a room to themselves

for nothing."

Booth presently took this hint--indeed it was a pretty broad one--and

told the bailiff he should not scruple to pay him his price; but in

fact he never drank unless at his meals. "As to that, sir," cries the

bailiff, "it is just as your honour pleases. I scorn to impose upon

any gentleman in misfortunes: I wish you well out of them, for my

part. Your honour can take nothing amiss of me; I only does my duty,

what I am bound to do; and, as you says you don't care to drink

anything, what will you be pleased to have for dinner?"

Booth then complied in bespeaking a dish of meat, and told the bailiff

he would drink a bottle with him after dinner. He then desired the

favour of pen, ink, and paper, and a messenger; all which were

immediately procured him, the bailiff telling him he might send

wherever he pleased, and repeating his concern for Booth's

misfortunes, and a hearty desire to see the end of them.

The messenger was just dispatched with the letter, when who should

arrive but honest Atkinson? A soldier of the guards, belonging to the

same company with the serjeant, and who had known Booth at Gibraltar,

had seen the arrest, and heard the orders given to the coachman. This

fellow, accidentally meeting Atkinson, had acquainted him with the

whole affair.

At the appearance of Atkinson, joy immediately overspread the

countenance of Booth. The ceremonials which past between them are

unnecessary to be repeated. Atkinson was soon dispatched to the

attorney and to Mrs. Ellison, as the reader hath before heard from his

own mouth.

Booth now greatly lamented that he had writ to his wife. He thought

she might have been acquainted with the affair better by the serjeant.

Booth begged him, however, to do everything in his power to comfort

her; to assure her that he was in perfect health and good spirits; and

to lessen as much as possible the concern which he knew she would have

at the reading his letter.

The serjeant, however, as the reader hath seen, brought himself the

first account of the arrest. Indeed, the other messenger did not

arrive till a full hour afterwards. This was not owing to any slowness

of his, but to many previous errands which he was to execute before

the delivery of the letter; for, notwithstanding the earnest desire

which the bailiff had declared to see Booth out of his troubles, he

had ordered the porter, who was his follower, to call upon two or

three other bailiffs, and as many attorneys, to try to load his

prisoner with as many actions as possible.

Here the reader may be apt to conclude that the bailiff, instead of

being a friend, was really an enemy to poor Booth; but, in fact, he

was not so. His desire was no more than to accumulate bail-bonds; for

the bailiff was reckoned an honest and good sort of man in his way,

and had no more malice against the bodies in his custody than a

butcher hath to those in his: and as the latter, when he takes his

knife in hand, hath no idea but of the joints into which he is to cut

the carcase; so the former, when he handles his writ, hath no other

design but to cut out the body into as many bail-bonds as possible. As

to the life of the animal, or the liberty of the man, they are

thoughts which never obtrude themselves on either.

Chapter ii.

_Containing an account of Mr. Booth's fellow-sufferers._

Before we return to Amelia we must detain our reader a little longer

with Mr. Booth, in the custody of Mr. Bondum the bailiff, who now

informed his prisoner that he was welcome to the liberty of the house

with the other gentlemen.

Booth asked who those gentlemen were. "One of them, sir," says Mr.

Bondum, "is a very great writer or author, as they call him; he hath

been here these five weeks at the suit of a bookseller for eleven

pound odd money; but he expects to be discharged in a day or two, for

he hath writ out the debt. He is now writing for five or six

booksellers, and he will get you sometimes, when he sits to it, a

matter of fifteen shillings a-day. For he is a very good pen, they

say, but is apt to be idle. Some days he won't write above five hours;

but at other times I have know him at it above sixteen." "Ay!" cries

Booth; "pray, what are his productions? What does he write?" "Why,

sometimes," answered Bondum, "he writes your history books for your

numbers, and sometimes your verses, your poems, what do you call them?

and then again he writes news for your newspapers." "Ay, indeed! he is

a most extraordinary man, truly!--How doth he get his news here?" "Why

he makes it, as he doth your parliament speeches for your magazines.

He reads them to us sometimes over a bowl of punch. To be sure it is

all one as if one was in the parliament-house--it is about liberty and

freedom, and about the constitution of England. I say nothing for my

part, for I will keep my neck out of a halter; but, faith, he makes it

out plainly to me that all matters are not as they should be. I am all

for liberty, for my part." "Is that so consistent with your calling?"

cries Booth. "I thought, my friend, you had lived by depriving men of

their liberty." "That's another matter," cries the bailiff; "that's

all according to law, and in the way of business. To be sure, men must

be obliged to pay their debts, or else there would be an end of

everything." Booth desired the bailiff to give him his opinion on

liberty. Upon which, he hesitated a moment, and then cried out, "O

'tis a fine thing, 'tis a very fine thing, and the constitution of

England." Booth told him, that by the old constitution of England he

had heard that men could not be arrested for debt; to which the

bailiff answered, that must have been in very bad times; "because as

why," says he, "would it not be the hardest thing in the world if a

man could not arrest another for a just and lawful debt? besides, sir,

you must be mistaken; for how could that ever be? is not liberty the

constitution of England? well, and is not the constitution, as a man

may say--whereby the constitution, that is the law and liberty, and

all that--"