gravely, ‘what do you mean? I only desire her to do into the
High Street’ (and then he pulls out a turnover), ‘to such a shop’;
and then he tells them a long story of two fine neckcloths he
had bid money for, and he wanted to have me go and make an
errand to buy a neck to the turnover that he showed, to see if
they would take my money for the neckcloths; to bid a shilling
more, and haggle with them; and then he made more errands,
and so continued to have such petty business to do, that I should
be sure to stay a good while.
When he had given me my errands, he told them a long story
of a visit he was going to make to a family they all knew, and
where was to be such-and-such gentlemen, and how merry
they were to be, and very formally asks his sisters to go with
him, and they as formally excused themselves, because of
company that they had notice was to come and visit them that
afternoon; which, by the way, he had contrived on purpose.
He had scarce done speaking to them, and giving me my
errand, but his man came up to tell him that Sir W—- H—-‘s
coach stopped at the door; so he runs down, and comes up
again immediately. ‘Alas!’ says he aloud, ‘there’s all my
mirth spoiled at once; sir W—- has sent his coach for me,
and desires to speak with me upon some earnest business.’
It seems this Sir W— was a gentleman who lived about three
miles out of town, to whom he had spoken on purpose the day
before, to lend him his chariot for a particular occasion, and
had appointed it to call for him, as it did, about three o’clock.
Immediately he calls for his best wig, hat, and sword, and
ordering his man to go to the other place to make his excuse–
that was to say, he made an excuse to send his man away–he
prepares to go into the coach. As he was going, he stopped a
while, and speaks mighty earnestly to me about his business,
and finds an opportunity to say very softly to me, ‘Come away,
my dear, as soon as ever you can.’ I said nothing, but made a
curtsy, as if I had done so to what he said in public. In about
a quarter of an hour I went out too; I had no dress other than
before, except that I had a hood, a mask, a fan, and a pair of
gloves in my pocket; so that there was not the least suspicion
in the house. He waited for me in the coach in a back-lane,
which he knew I must pass by, and had directed the coachman
whither to go, which was to a certain place, called Mile End,
where lived a confidant of his, where we went in, and where
was all the convenience in the world to be as wicked as we
pleased.
When we were together he began to talk very gravely to me,
and to tell me he did not bring me there to betray me; that his
passion for me would not suffer him to abuse me; that he
resolved to marry me as soon as he came to his estate; that in
the meantime, if I would grant his request, he would maintain
me very honourably; and made me a thousand protestations
of his sincerity and of his affection to me; and that he would
never abandon me, and as I may say, made a thousand more
preambles than he need to have done.
However, as he pressed me to speak, I told him I had no
reason to question the sincerity of his love to me after so many
protestations, but–and there I stopped, as if I left him to
guess the rest. ‘But what, my dear?’ says he. ‘I guess what
you mean: what if you should be with child? Is not that it?
Why, then,’ says he, ‘I’ll take care of you and provide for you,
and the child too; and that you may see I am not in jest,’ says