e sacrifices for his sake had not
been small, were obstacles which nothing could subdue.

"Far, indeed, was I from imposing these conditions. I waited only till,
by certain arrangements, I could gather enough to pay his debts, to
enable him to execute his vow: empty would have been my claims to his
affection, if I could have suffered, with the means of his deliverance
in my hands, my husband to remain a moment in prison.

"The remains of my father's vast fortune was a jointure of a thousand
pounds a year, settled on my mother, and, after her death, on me. My
mother's helpless condition put this revenue into my disposal. By this
means was I enabled, without the knowledge of my father-in-law or my
husband, to purchase the debt, and dismiss him from prison. He set out
instantly, in company with his paramour, to France.

"When somewhat recovered from the shock of this calamity, I took up my
abode with my mother. What she had was enough, as you perhaps will
think, for plentiful subsistence; but to us, with habits of a different
kind, it was little better than poverty. That reflection, my father's
memory, my mother's deplorable state, which every year grew worse, and
the late misfortune, were the chief companions of my thoughts.

"The dear child, whose smiles were uninterrupted by his mother's
afflictions, was some consolation in my solitude. To his instruction and
to my mother's wants all my hours were devoted. I was sometimes not
without the hope of better days. Full as my mind was of Fielding's
merits, convinced by former proofs of his ardent and generous spirit, I
trusted that time and reflection would destroy that spell by which he
was now bound.

"For some time, the progress of these reflections was not known. In
leaving England, Fielding dropped all correspondence and connection with
his native country. He parted with the woman at Rouen, leaving no trace
behind him by which she might follow him, as she wished to do. She never
returned to England, but died a twelvemonth afterwards in Switzerland.

"As to me, I had only to muse day and night upon the possible destiny of
this beloved fugitive. His incensed father cared not for him. He had
cast him out of his paternal affections, ceased to make inquiries
respecting him, and even wished never to hear of him again. My boy
succeeded to my husband's place in his grandfather's affections, and in
the hopes and views of the family; and his mother wanted nothing which
their