ry few do. I shall have no husband, of whose interest I ought to
be so regardful, as to prevent me doing more than justice to others, that
I may not do less for him. If therefore my father will be pleased (as I
shall presume, in proper time, to propose to him) to pay two annuities
out of it, one to my dear Mrs. Norton, which may make her easy for the
remainder of her life, as she is now growing into years; the other of
50L. per annum, to the same good woman, for the use of my poor, as I had
the vanity to call a certain set of people, concerning whom she knows all
my mind; that so as few as possible may suffer by the consequences of my
error; God bless them, and give them heart's ease and content, with the
rest!

Other reasons for my taking the step I have hinted at, are these.

This wicked man knows I have no friend in the world but you: your
neighbourhood therefore would be the first he would seek for me in, were
you to think it possible for me to be concealed in it: and in this case
you might be subjected to inconveniencies greater even than those which
you have already sustained on my account.

From my cousin Morden, were he to come, I could not hope protection;
since, by his letter to me, it is evident, that my brother has engaged him
in his party: nor would I, by any means, subject so worthy a man to
danger; as might be the case, from the violence of this ungovernable
spirit.

These things considered, what better method can I take, than to go abroad
to some one of the English colonies; where nobody but yourself shall know
any thing of me; nor you, let me tell you, presently, nor till I am
fixed, and (if it please God) in a course of living tolerably to my mind?
For it is no small part of my concern, that my indiscretions have laid so
heavy a tax upon you, my dear friend, to whom, once, I hoped to give more
pleasure than pain.

I am at present at one Mrs. Moore's at Hampstead. My heart misgave me at
coming to this village, because I had been here with him more than once:
but the coach hither was so ready a conveniency, that I knew not what to
do better. Then I shall stay here no longer than till I can receive your
answer to this: in which you will be pleased to let me know, if I cannot
be hid, according to your former contrivance, [happy, had I given into it
at the time!] by Mrs. Townsend's assistance, till the heat of his search
be over. The Deptford road, I imagine, will be the right direction to
hear of