and the girl, going down to the
water-side, came by boat.
This conversation did not answer Amy's end at all, because it did not
secure the girl from pursuing her design of hunting me out; and though
my indefatigable friend the Quaker amused her three or four days, yet I
had such notice of it at last that I thought fit to come away from
Tunbridge upon it. And where to go I knew not; but, in short, I went to
a little village upon Epping Forest, called Woodford, and took lodgings
in a private house, where I lived retired about six weeks, till I
thought she might be tired of her search, and have given me over.
Here I received an account from my trusty Quaker that the wench had
really been at Tunbridge, had found out my lodgings, and had told her
tale there in a most dismal tone; that she had followed us, as she
thought, to London; but the Quaker had answered her that she knew
nothing of it, which was indeed true; and had admonished her to be easy,
and not hunt after people of such fashion as we were, as if we were
thieves; that she might be assured, that since I was not willing to see
her, I would not be forced to it; and treating me thus would effectually
disoblige me. And with such discourses as these she quieted her; and she
(the Quaker) added that she hoped I should not be troubled much more
with her.
It was in this time that Amy gave me the history of her Greenwich
voyage, when she spoke of drowning and killing the girl in so serious a
manner, and with such an apparent resolution of doing it, that, as I
said, put me in a rage with her, so that I effectually turned her away
from me, as I have said above, and she was gone; nor did she so much as
tell me whither or which way she was gone. On the other hand, when I
came to reflect on it that now I had neither assistant or confidant to
speak to, or receive the least information from, my friend the Quaker
excepted, it made me very uneasy.
I waited and expected and wondered from day to day, still thinking Amy
would one time or other think a little and come again, or at least let
me hear of her; but for ten days together I heard nothing of her. I was
so impatient that I got neither rest by day or sleep by night, and what
to do I knew not. I durst not go to town to the Quaker's for fear of
meeting that vexatious creature, my girl, and I could get no
intelligence where I was; so I got my spouse, upon pretence of wanting
her company, to take the coach one day and fetch m
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