aid mischief. You were
determined to place no confidence in me, though I have solemnly, over
and over, engaged my honour to you. What, though I had alarmed your
fears in sending you one way, when you hoped to go another; yet, had
I not, to convince you of my resolution to do justly by you, (although
with great reluctance, such then was my love for you,) engaged not
to come near you without your own consent? Was not this a voluntary
demonstration of the generosity of my intention to you? Yet how have
you requited me? The very first fellow that your charming face, and
insinuating address, could influence, you have practised upon, corrupted
too, I may say, (and even ruined, as the ungrateful wretch shall find,)
and thrown your forward self upon him. As, therefore, you would place no
confidence in me, my honour owes you nothing; and, in a little time, you
shall find how much you have erred, in treating, as you have done, a man
who was once

'Your affectionate and kind friend.'

'Mrs. Jewkes has directions concerning you: and if your lot is now
harder than you might wish, you will bear it the easier, because your
own rash folly has brought it upon you.'

Alas! for me, what a fate is mine, to be thus thought artful, and
forward, and ungrateful; when all I intended was to preserve my
innocence; and when all the poor little shifts, which his superior
wicked wit and cunning have rendered ineffectual, were forced upon me in
my own necessary defence!

When Mrs. Jewkes came up to me again, she found me bathed in tears. She
seemed, as I thought, to be moved to some compassion; and finding myself
now entirely in her power, and that it is not for me to provoke her,
I said, It is now, I see, in vain for me to contend against my evil
destiny, and the superior arts of my barbarous master. I will resign
myself to the Divine will, and prepare to expect the worst. But you see
how this poor Mr. Williams is drawn in and undone: I am sorry I am made
the cause of his ruin. Poor, poor man!--to be thus involved, and for my
sake too!--But if you'll believe me, said I, I gave no encouragement
to what he proposed, as to marriage; nor would he have proposed it, I
believe, but as the only honourable way he thought was left to save me:
And his principal motive to it at all, was virtue and compassion to
one in distress. What other view could he have? You know I am poor and
friendless. All I beg of you is, to le