nor had he ever written any such; he owned, indeed the having mentioned his marriage, and that preference which he had given to myself, but denied, with many oaths, the having assigned any such reason; and he excused the having mentioned any such matter at all, on account of the straits he was in for money, arising, he said, from his having too long neglected his estate in Ireland; and this, he said, which he could not bear to discover to me, was the only reason of his having so strénuously insisted on our journey. He then used several very endearing expressions, and concluded by a very fond caress, and many violent protestations of love. There was one circumstance, which, though he did not appeal to it, had much weight with me in his favour, and that was the word jointure in the tailor's letter; whereas my aunt never had been married, and this Mr. Fitzpatrick well knew. As I imagined, therefore, that the fellow must have inserted this of his own head, or from hearsay, I persuaded myself he might have ventured likewise on that odious line on no better authority. What reasoning was this, my dear? was I not an advocate rather than a judge? But why do I mention such a circumstance as this, or appeal to it for the justification of my forgiveness? In short, had he been guilty of twenty times as much, half the tenderness and fondness which he used would have prevailed on me to have forgiven him. I now made no farther objections to our setting out, which we did the next morning, and in a little more than a week arrived at the seat of Mr. Fitzpatrick. Your curiosity will excuse me from relating any occurrences which passed during our journey; for it would indeed be highly disagreeable to travel it over again, and no less so to you to travel it over with me. seat, then, is an ancient mansion-house: if I was in one of those merry humours in which you have so often seen me, I could describe it to you ridiculously enough. It looked as if it had been formerly inhabited by a gentleman. Here was room enough, and not the less room on account of the furniture; for indeed there was very little in it. An old woman, who seemed coeval with the building, and greatly resembled her whom Chamont mentions in the Orphan, received us at the gate; and, in a howl scarce human, and to me unintelligible, welcomed her master home. In short, the whole scene was so gloomy and melancholy, that it threw my spirits into

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the lowest dejection; which my husband discerning, in stead of relieving, increased by two or three malicious observations. There are good houses, madam, says he, as you find, in other places besides England; but perhaps you had rather be in a dirty lodging at Bath. Happy, my dear, is the woman who, in any state of life, has a cheerful, good-natured companion to support and comfort her. But why do I reflect on happy situations only to aggravate my own misery? My companion, far from clearing up the gloom of solitude, soon convinced me that I must have been wretched with him in any place, and in any condition: in a word, he was a surly fellow, a character perhaps you have never seen; for indeed no woman ever sees it exemplified but in a father, a brother, or a husband; and though you have a father, he is not of that character. This surly fellow had formerly appeared to me the very reverse, and so he did still to every other person. Good heaven! how is it possible for a man to maintain a constant lie in his appearance abroad and in company, and to content himself with showing disagreeable truth only at home? Here, my dear, they make themselves amends for the uneasy restraint which they put on their tempers in the world; for I have observed, the more merry, and gay, and goodhumoured my husband has at any time been in company, the more sullen and morose he was sure to become at our next private meeting. How shall I describe his barbarity? To my fondness he was cold and insensible: my little comical ways, which you, my Sophy, and which others have called so agreeable, he treated with contempt in my most serious moments he sung and whistled; and whenever I was thoroughly dejected and miserable, he was angry, and abused me: for though he was never pleased with my good-humour, nor ascribed it to my satisfaction in him, yet my low spirits always offended him, and those he imputed to my repentance of having, as he said, married an Irishman. You will easily conceive, my dear Graveairs (I ask your pardon, I really forgot myself), that when a woman makes an imprudent match in the sense of the world, that is, when she is not an arrant prostitute to pecuniary interest, she must necessarily have some inclination and affection for her man: you will as easily believe that this affection may possibly be lessened; nay, I do assure you, contempt will wholly eradicate it. This contempt

:

I now began to entertain for my husband, whom I now discovered to be—I must use the expression-an arrant blockhead. Perhaps you will wonder I did not make this discovery long before; but women will suggest a thousand excuses to themselves for the folly of those they like: besides, give me leave to tell you, it requires a most penetrating eye to discern a fool through the disguises of gayety and good-breeding. It will be easily imagined, that when I once despised my husband, as I confess to you I soon did, I must consequently dislike his company; and indeed I had the happiness of being very little troubled with it; for our house was now most elegantly furnished, our cellars well stocked, and dogs and horses provided in great abundance. As my gentleman, therefore, entertained his neighbours with great hospitality, so his neighbours resorted to him with great alacrity; and sports and drinking consumed so much of his time, that a small part of his conversation, that is to say, of his ill-humours, fell to my share. Happy would it have been for me if I could as easily have avoided all other disagreeable company; but, alas! I was confined to some which constantly tormented me; and the more, as I saw no prospect of being relieved from them: these companions were my own racking thoughts, which plagued, and in a manner haunted me, night and day. In this situation I passed through a scene, the horrors of which can neither be painted nor imagined. Think, my dear; figure, if you can, to yourself, what I must have undergone. I became a mother by the man I scorned, hated, and detested. I went through all the agonies and miseries of a lying-in (ten times more painful in such a circumstance than the worst labour can be, when one endures it for a man one loves), in a desert, or rather indeed a scene of riot and revel, without a friend, without a companion, or without any of those agreeable circumstances which often alleviate, and perhaps sometimes more than compensate, the sufferings of our sex at that season."

CHAP. VI.-In which the mistake of the landlord throws Sophia into a dreadful consternation.

MRS. FITZPATRICK was proceeding in her narrative, when she was interrupted by the entrance of dinner,

greatly to the concern of Sophia; for the misfortunes of her friend had raised her anxiety, and left her no appetite, but what Mrs. Fitzpatrick was to satisfy by her relation.

The landlord now attended with a plate under his arm, and with the same respect in his countenance and address which he would have put on had the ladies arrived in a coach and six. The married lady seemed less affected with her own misfortunes than was her cousin; for the former ate very heartily, whereas the latter could hardly swallow a morsel. Sophia also showed more concern and sorrow in her countenance than appeared in the other lady, who, having observed these symptoms in her friend, begged her to be comforted, saying, "Perhaps all may yet end better than either you or I expect." Our landlord thought he had now an opportunity to open his mouth, and was resolved not to omit it. "I am sorry, madam," cries he, "that your ladyship can't eat; for to be sure you must be hungry after so long fasting. I hope your ladyship is not uneasy at any thing; for, as madam there says, all may end better than anybody expects. A gentleman who was here just now brought excellent news; and, perhaps, some folks who have given other folks the slip, may get to London before they are overtaken; and if they do, I make no doubt but they will find people who will be very ready to receive them."

All persons, under the apprehensions of danger, convert whatever they see and hear into the objects of that apprehension: Sophia therefore immediately concluded from the foregoing speech, that she was known and pursued by her father. She was now struck with the utmost consternation, and for a few minutes deprived of the power of speech, which she no sooner recovered than she desired the landlord to send his servants out of the room, and then addressing herself to him, said, "I perceive, sir, you know who we are; but I beseech you, nay, I am convinced, if you have any compassion or goodness, you will not betray us."-"I betray your ladyship!" quoth the landlord; no (and then he swore several very hearty oaths), I would sooner be cut into ten thousand pieces: I hate all treachery. I! I never betrayed any one in my life yet, and I am sure I shall not begin with so sweet a lady as your ladyship. All the world would very much blame me if I should, since

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it will be in your ladyship's power so shortly to reward me. My wife can witness for me, I knew your ladyship the moment you came into the house: I said it was your honour before I lifted you from your horse, and I shall carry the bruises I got in your ladyship's service to the grave; but what signified that, as long as I saved your ladyship? To be sure, some people this morning would have thought of getting a reward; but no such thought ever entered into my head: I would sooner starve than take any reward for betraying your ladyship."-"I promise you, sir," says Sophia, "if it be ever in my power to reward you, you shall not lose by your generosity."-" Alack-a-day, madam!" answered the landlord, in your ladyship's power! Heaven put it as much into your will. I am only afraid your honour will forget such a poor man as an innkeeper; but if your ladyship should not, I hope you will remember what reward I refused; refused-that is, I would have refused, and to be sure it may be called refusing; for I might have had it certainly; and to be sure you might have been in some houses;-but, for my part, I would not, methinks, for the world, have your ladyship wrong me so much as to imagine I ever thought of betraying you, even before I heard the good news.' "What news, pray?" says Sophia, somewhat eagerly. "Has not your ladyship heard it, then?" cries the landlord; "nay, like enough; for I heard it only a few minutes ago; and if I had never heard it, may the devil fly away with me this instant if I would have betrayed your honour; no, if I would, may I-" Here he subjoined several dreadful imprecations, which Sophia at last interrupted, and begged to know what he meant by the news? He was going to answer, when Mrs. Honour came running into the room, all pale and breathless, and cried out, "Madam, we are all undone, all ruined! they are come, they are come!" These words almost froze up the blood of Sophia; but Mrs. Fitzpatrick asked Honour who were come? "Who?" answered she, "why, the French: several hundred thousands of them are landed, and we shall be all murdered and ravished."

As a miser, who has in some well-built city a cottage, value twenty shillings, when at a distance he is alarmed with the news of a fire, turns pale and trembles at his loss; but when he finds the beautiful palaces only are burnt, and his own cottage remains safe, he comes in