ppear in a light far superior to our
neighbours. I had also five children by him, two sons and three
daughters, and had my husband been as wise as rich, we might have lived
happily together now. But it was not so, for he minded nothing but
sporting, in almost every branch; and closely following of it soon run
out all his substance, and then left me in an unhappy, helpless
condition. I did not send my children to my relations till the greatest
necessity drove me, and after that, hearing my husband was dead, I
married the jeweller, who was afterwards murdered. If I had owned how
many children I had, the jeweller would not have married me, and the way
of life I was in would not keep my family, so I was forced to deny them
in order to get them bread. Neither can I say that I have either heard
or known anything of my children since, excepting that I heard they were
all taken care of; and this was the very reason I would not marry you,
when you offered it some years since, for these children lay seriously
at my heart, and as I did not want money, my inclination was to come to
England, and not entail five children upon you the day of marriage."

"Pray, madam," said my lord, interrupting me, "I do not find that you
kept up to your resolutions when you got there; you were so far from
doing your duty as a parent, that you even neglected the civility of
acquaintances, for they would have asked after them, but your whole
scheme has been to conceal yourself as much as possible, and even when
you were found out, denied yourself, as witness the case of your
daughter here. As to the character of Lady Roxana, which you so nicely
managed," said he, "did that become a woman that had five children,
whose necessity had obliged you to leave them, to live in a continual
scene of pageantry and riot, I could almost say debauchery? Look into
your conduct, and see if you deserve to have the title or the estate you
now so happily enjoy."

After this speech, he walked about the room in a confused manner for
some minutes, and then addressed himself to Amy. "Pray, Mrs. Amy," says
he, "give me your judgment in this case, for although I know you are as
much as possible in your lady's interest, yet I cannot think you have so
little charity as to think she acted like a woman of worth and
discretion. Do you really think, as you knew all of them from infants,
that this young woman is your lady's daughter?"

Amy, who always had spirits enough about her, s