to obtrude themselves upon her; and Dorcas also kept out of her sight all the rest of Sunday; also on Monday and Tuesday. But by the lady's condescension (even to familiarity) to Mabell, they imagined, that she must be working in her mind all that time to get away: they therefore redoubled their cautions to the wench: who told them so faithfully all that passed between her lady and her, that they had no doubt of her fidelity to her wicked

trust.

About eight yesterday morning, an hour after Polly had left her, she told Mabell, she was sure she should not live long; and having a good many suits of apparel, which after her death would be of no use to any body she valued, she would give her a brown lustring gown, which, with some alterations, to make it more suitable to her degree, would a great while serve her for a Sunday wear; for that she (Mabell) was the only person in that house of whom she could think without terror or antipathy.

Mabell expressing her gratitude upon the occasion, the lady said, she had nothing to employ herself about; and if she could get a workwoman directly, she would look over her things then, and give her what she intended for her.

Her mistress's mantua-maker, the maid replied, lived but a little way off; and she doubted not that she could procure her, or one of her journeywomen, to alter the gown out of hand.

I will give you also, said she, a quilted coat, which will require but little alteration, if any; for you are much about my stature: but the gown I will give directions about, because the sleeves and the robings and facings must be altered for your wear, being, I believe, above your station; and try, said she, if you can get the work woman, and we'll advise about it. If she cannot come now, let her come in the afternoon; but I had rather now, because it will amuse me to give you a lift.

Then stepping to the window, It rains, said she (and so it had done all the morning): slip on the hood and short cloak I have seen you wear, and come to me when you are ready to go out, because you shall bring me in something that I want.

Mabell equipped herself accordingly, and received her commands to buy her some trifles, and then left her; but, in her way out, stepped into the back parlour, where Dorcas was with Mrs. Sinclair, telling her where she was going, and on what account, bidding Dorcas look out till she came back. So faithful was the wench to the trust reposed in her, and so little had the lady's generosity wrought upon her.

Mrs. Sinclair commended her; Dorcas envied her, and took her cue: and Mabell soon returned with the mantuamaker's journeywoman (she was resolved, she said, she would not come without her); and then Dorcas went off guard.

The lady looked out the gown and petticoat, and before the work woman caused Mabell to try it on; and, that it might fit the better, made the willing wench pull off her upper petticoat, and put on that she gave her. Then she bid them go into Mr. Lovelace's apartment, and contrive about it before the pier-glass there, and stay till she came to them, to give them her opinion.

Mabell would have taken her own clothes, and hood, and short cloak with her: but her lady said, no matter; you may put them on again here, when we have considered about the alterations: there's no occasion to litter the other room.

They went; and instantly, as it is supposed, she slipped on Mabell's gown and petticoat over her own, which was white damask, and put on the wench's hood, short cloak, and ordinary apron, and down she went.

Hearing somebody tripping along the passage, both Will and Dorcas whipped to the inner hall door, and saw

her; but, taking her for Mabell, Are you going far, Mabell? cried Will.

Without turning her face, or answering, she held out her hand, pointing to the stairs; which they construed as a caution for them to look out in her absence; and supposing she would not be long gone, as she had not in form repeated her caution to them, up went Will, tarrying at the stairs-head in expectation of the supposed Mabell's

return.

Mabell and the work woman waited a good while, amusing themselves not disagreeably, the one with contriving in the way of her business, the other delighting herself with her fine gown and coat: but at last, wondering the lady did not come in to them, Mabell tiptoed it to her door, and tapping, and not being answered, stepped into the chamber.

Will, at that instant, from his station at the stairshead, sceing Mabell in her lady's clothes, for he had been told of the present (gifts to servants fly from servant to servant in a minute), was very much surprised, having, as he thought, just seen her go out in her own; and stepping up, met her at the door. How the devil can this be? said he: just now you went out in your own dress! How came you here in this? And how could you pass me unseen? But nevertheless, kissing her, said, he would now brag he had kissed his lady, or one in her clothes. I am glad, Mr. William, cried Mabell, to see you here so diligently. But know you where my lady is? In my master's apartment, answered Will. not? Was she not talking with you this moment? No, that's Mrs. Dolin's journeywoman.

Is she

They both stood aghast, as they said; Will again recollecting he had seen Mabell, as he thought, go out in her own clothes. And while they were debating and wondering, up comes Dorcas with your fourth letter, just then brought for her lady; and seeing Mabell dressed out

(whom she had likewise beheld a little before, as she supposed, in her common clothes), she joined in the wonder; till Mabell, re-entering the lady's apartment, missed her own clothes; and then suspecting what had happened, and letting the others into the ground of her suspicion, they all agreed, that she had certainly escaped. And then followed such an uproar of mutual accusation, and you should have done this, and you should have done that, as alarmed the whole house; every apartment in both houses giving up its devil, to the number of fourteen or fifteen, including the mother and her partners.

Will told them his story; and then ran out, as on the like occasion formerly, to make inquiry whether the lady was seen by any of the coachmen, chairmen, or porters, plying in that neighbourhood: while Dorcas cleared herself immediately, and that at the poor Mabell's expense, who made a figure as guilty as awkward, having on the suspected price of her treachery; which Dorcas, out of envy, was ready to tear from her back.

The poor Mabell, frightened out of her wits, expected. every moment to be torn in pieces, having half a score open-clawed paws upon her all at once. She promised to confess all. But that all, when she had obtained a hearing, was nothing; for nothing had she to confess.

Sally hereupon, with a curse of mercy, ordered her to retire; undertaking that she and Polly would examine her themselves, that they might be able to write all particulars to his Honour; and then, if she could not clear herself, or, if guilty, give some account of the lady (who had been so wicked as to give them all this trouble) so as they might get her again, then the cleaver and gridiron might go to work with all her heart.

The wench, glad of this reprieve, went up stairs; and while Sally was laying out the law, and prating away in her usual dictatorial manner, whipped on another gown, and sliding down stairs, escaped to her relations. And this

flight, which was certainly more owing to terror than guilt, was, in the true Old Bailey construction, made a confirmation of the latter.

Where, Lovelace, can the poor lady be gone? And who can describe the distress she must be in ?

By thy former letters, it may be supposed, that she can have very little money: nor, by the suddenness of her flight, more clothes than those she has on. And thou knowest who once said, Her parents will not receive her : her uncles will not entertain her: her Norton is in their direction, and cannot: Miss Howe, dare not: she has not one friend or intimate in town; entirely a stranger to it. And, let me add, has been despoiled of her honour by the man for whom she made all these sacrifices; and who stood bound to her by a thousand oaths and vows, to be her husband, her protector, and friend!

How strong must be her resentment of the barbarous treatment she has received! How worthy of herself, that it has made her hate the man she once loved! And, rather than marry him, choose to expose her disgrace to the whole world; to forego the reconciliation with her friends which her heart was so set upon; and to hazard a thousand evils to which her youth and her sex may too probably expose an indigent and friendless

beauty!

I must add, that, as well for thy own sake, as for the lady's, I wish ye were yet to be married to each other. It is the only medium that can be hit upon, to salve the honour of both. All that's past may yet be concealed from the world, and from her relations; and thou mayest make amends for all her sufferings, if thou resolvest to be a tender and kind husband to her.

And if this really be thy intention, I will accept, with pleasure, of a commission from thee, that shall tend to promote so good an end, whenever she can be found; that is to say, if she will admit to her presence a man who