the
city, and put up at an inn in High Street (near St. Mary Bredman's
church), which generally was filled with the best of company. The
anxiety of my mind, on finding myself pursued by this girl, and the
fatigue of my journey, had made me much out of order, my head ached, and
I had no stomach.

This made my husband (but he knew not the real occasion of my illness)
and the Quaker very uneasy, and they did all in their power to persuade
me to eat anything I could fancy.

At length the landlady of the inn, who perceived I was more disturbed in
my mind than sick, advised me to eat one poached egg, drink a glass of
sack, eat a toast, and go to bed, and she warranted, she said, I should
be well by the morning. This was immediately done; and I must
acknowledge, that the sack and toast cheered me wonderfully, and I began
to take heart again; and my husband would have the coachman in after
supper, on purpose to divert me and the honest Quaker, who, poor
creature, seemed much more concerned at my misfortune than I was myself.

I went soon to bed, but for fear I should be worse in the night, two
maids of the inn were ordered to sit up in an adjoining chamber; the
Quaker and my waiting-maid lay in a bed in the same room, and my
husband by himself in another apartment.

While my maid was gone down on some necessary business, and likewise to
get me some burnt wine, which I was to drink going to bed, or rather
when I was just got into bed, the Quaker and I had the following
dialogue:

_Quaker._ The news thou heardest at Sittingbourne has disordered thee. I
am glad the young woman has been out of this place a week; she went
indeed for Dover; and when she comes there and canst not find thee, she
may go to Deal, and so miss of thee.

_Roxana._ What I most depend upon is, that as we do not travel by any
particular name, but the general one of the baronet and his lady, and
the girl hath no notion what sort of equipage we travelled with, it was
not easy to make a discovery of me, unless she accidentally, in her
travels, light upon you (meaning the Quaker), or upon me; either of
which must unavoidably blow the secret I had so long laboured to
conceal.

_Quaker._ As thou intendest to stay here to-morrow, to see the things
which thou callest antiquities, and which are more properly named the
relics of the Whore of Babylon; suppose thou wert to send Thomas, who at
thy command followeth after us, to the place called Dover, to inquire