poor Mr. Williams well off: I understand my master is gone to
make up matters with him; which is very good. To be sure, added she, he
is a very good gentleman, and very forgiving!--Why, said I, as if I had
known nothing of the matter, how can he make up matters with him? Is not
Mr. Williams at Stamford? Yes, said she, I believe so; but Parson Peters
pleads for him, and he is gone with him to Stamford, and will not be
back to-night: so we have nothing to do, but to eat our suppers betimes,
and go to bed. Ay, that's pure, said I; and I shall have good rest this
night, I hope. So, said she, you might every night, but for your own
idle fears. You are afraid of your friends, when none are near you. Ay,
that's true, said I; for I have not one near me.

So I have one more good honest night before me: What the next may be I
know not, and so I'll try to take in a good deal of sleep, while I can
be a little easy. Therefore, here I say, Good night, my dear parents;
for I have no more to write about this night: and though his letter
shocks me, yet I will be as brisk as I can, that she mayn't suspect I
have seen it.

Tuesday night.

For the future, I will always mistrust most when appearances look
fairest. O your poor daughter! what has she not suffered since what I
wrote on Sunday night!--My worst trial, and my fearfullest danger! O how
I shudder to write you an account of this wicked interval of time! For,
my dear parents, will you not be too much frightened and affected with
my distress, when I tell you, that his journey to Stamford was all
abominable pretence! for he came home privately, and had well nigh
effected all his vile purposes, and the ruin of your poor daughter! and
that by such a plot as I was not in the least apprehensive of: And,
oh! you'll hear what a vile and unwomanly part that wicked wretch, Mrs.
Jewkes, acted in it!

I left off with letting you know how much I was pleased that I had one
night's reprieve added to my honesty. But I had less occasion to rejoice
than ever, as you will judge by what I have said already. Take, then,
the dreadful story, as well as I can relate it.

The maid Nan is a little apt to drink, if she can get at liquor; and
Mrs. Jewkes happened, or designed, as is too probable, to leave a bottle
of cherry-brandy in her way, and the wench drank some of it more than
she should; and when she came in to lay the cloth, Mrs. Jewkes perceived
it, and fell a rating at her most sadly; for she