husband, nor they lawful children, and that I had reason to
regard neither of them more than I did.
I confess I was moved to pity him when I spoke it, for he
turned pale as death, and stood mute as one thunderstruck,
and once or twice I thought he would have fainted; in short,
it put him in a fit something like an apoplex; he trembled, a
sweat or dew ran off his face, and yet he was cold as a clod,
so that I was forced to run and fetch something for him to
keep life in him. When he recovered of that, he grew sick and
vomited, and in a little after was put to bed, and the next
morning was, as he had been indeed all night, in a violent fever.
However, it went off again, and he recovered, though but
slowly, and when he came to be a little better, he told me I
had given him a mortal wound with my tongue, and he had
only one thing to ask before he desired an explanation. I
interrupted him, and told him I was sorry I had gone so far,
since I saw what disorder it put him into, but I desired him
not to talk to me of explanations, for that would but make
things worse.
This heightened his impatience, and, indeed, perplexed him
beyond all bearing; for now he began to suspect that there
was some mystery yet unfolded, but could not make the least
guess at the real particulars of it; all that ran in his brain was,
that I had another husband alive, which I could not say in fact
might not be true, but I assured him, however, there was not
the least of that in it; and indeed, as to my other husband, he
was effectually dead in law to me, and had told me I should
look on him as such, so I had not the least uneasiness on that
score.
But now I found the thing too far gone to conceal it much
longer, and my husband himself gave me an opportunity to
ease myself of the secret, much to my satisfaction. He had
laboured with me three or four weeks, but to no purpose, only
to tell him whether I had spoken these words only as the effect
of my passion, to put him in a passion, or whether there was
anything of truth in the bottom of them. But I continued
inflexible, and would explain nothing, unless he would first
consent to my going to England, which he would never do,
he said, while he lived; on the other hand, I said it was in my
power to make him willing when I pleased–nay, to make him
entreat me to go; and this increased his curiosity, and made him
importunate to the highest degree, but it was all to no purpose.
At length he tells all this story to his mother, and sets her upon
me to get the main secret out of me, and she used her utmost
skill with me indeed; but I put her to a full stop at once by
telling her that the reason and mystery of the whole matter lay
in herself, and that it was my respect to her that had made me
conceal it; and that, in short, I could go no farther, and therefore
conjured her not to insist upon it.
She was struck dumb at this suggestion, and could not tell
what to say or to think; but, laying aside the supposition as a
policy of mine, continued her importunity on account of her
son, and, if possible, to make up the breach between us two.
As to that, I told her that it was indeed a good design in her,
but that it was impossible to be done; and that if I should reveal
to her the truth of what she desired, she would grant it to be
impossible, and cease to desire it. At last I seemed to be
prevailed on by her importunity, and told her I dared trust her
with a secret of the greatest importance, and she would soon
see that this was so, and that I would consent to lodge it in