by Daniel Defoe
While he found me change Colour, and look surpriz’d at his Discourse, for so I did to be sure, he turns to my Maid Amy, and looking at her, he says to me, I say all this Madam, before your Maid, because both she and you shall know that I have no ill Design, and that I have, in meer Kindness, resolv’d to do something for you, if I can; and as I have been a Witness of the uncommon Honesty and Fidelity of Mrs. Amy here, to you in all your Distresses, I know she may be trusted with so honest a Design as mine is; for, I assure you, I bear a proportion’d Regard to your Maid too, for her Affection to you.
Amy made him a Curtsie, and the poor Girl look’d so confounded with Joy, that she could not speak, but her Colour came and went, and every now and then she blush’d as red as Scarlet, and the next Minute look’d as pale as Death: Well, having said this, he sat down, made me sit down, and then drank to me, and made me drink two Glasses of Wine together; for, says he, you have Need of it, and so indeed I had: When he had done so, Come Amy, says he, with your Mistress’s Leave, you shall have a Glass too, so he made her drink two Glasses also, and then rising up; and now Amy, says he, go and get Dinner; and you, Madam, says he to me, go up and dress you, and come down and smile and be merry; adding, I’ll make you easie, if I can; and in the mean time, he said, he would walk in the Garden.
When he was gone, Amy chang’d her Countenance indeed, and look’d as merry as ever she did in her Life; Dear Madam! says she, what does this Gentleman mean? Nay, Amy, said I, he means to do us Good, you see, don’t he? I know no other Meaning he can have, for he can get nothing by me: I warrant you Madam, says she, he’ll ask you a Favour by and by: No, no, you are mistaken, Amy, I dare say, said I; you heard what he said, didn’t you? Ay, says Amy it’s no matter for that, you shall see what he will do after Dinner: Well, well, Amy, says I, you have hard Thoughts of him, I cannot be of your Opinion; I don’t see any thing in him yet that looks like it: As to that, Madam, says Amy, I don’t see any thing of it yet neither; but what should move a Gentleman to take Pity of us, as he does? Nay, says I, that’s a hard thing too, that we should judge a Man to be wicked because he’s charitable; and vicious because he’s kind: O Madam, says Amy, there’s abundance of Charity begins in that Vice, and he is not so unacquainted with things, as not to know, that Poverty is the strongest Incentive;39 a Temptation, against which no Virtue is powerful enought to stand out; he knows your Condition as well as you do: Well, and what then? Why then he knows too that you are young and handsome, and he has the surest Bait in the World to take you with.
Well, Amy, said I, but he may find himself mistaken too in such a thing as that: Why, Madam, says Amy, I hope you won’t deny him, if he should offer it.
What d’ye mean by that, Hussy, said I? No, I’d starve first.
I hope not, Madam, I hope you would be wiser; I’m sure if he will set you up, as he talks of, you ought to deny him nothing; and you will starve if you do not consent, that’s certain.
What, consent to lye with him for Bread? Amy, said I, How can you talk so?
Nay, Madam, says Amy, I don’t think you wou’d for any thing else; it would not be Lawful for any thing else, but for Bread, Madam; why nobody can starve, there’s no bearing that, I’m sure.
Ay, says I, but if he would give me an Estate to live on, he should not lye with me, I assure you.
Why look you, Madam, if he would but give you enough to live easie upon, he should lye with me for it with all my Heart.
That’s a Token, Amy, of inimitable Kindness to me, said I, and I know how to value it; but there’s more Friendship than Honesty in it, Amy.
O Madam, says Amy, I’d do any thing to get you out of this sad Condition; as to Honesty, I think Honesty is out of the Question, when Starving is the Case; are not we almost starv’d to Death?
I am indeed, said I, and thou art for my sake; but to be a Whore, Amy! and there I stopt.
Dear Madam, says Amy, if I will starve for your sake, I will be a Whore, or any thing, for your sake; why I would die for you, if I were put to it.
Why that’s an Excess of Affection, Amy, said I, I never met with before; I wish I may be ever in Condition to make you some Returns suitable: But however, Amy, you shall not be a Whore to him, to oblige him to be kind to me; no, Amy, nor I won’t be a Whore to him, if he would give me much more than he is able to give me, or do for me.
Why Madam, says Amy, I don’t say I will go and ask him; but I say, if he should promise to do so and so for you, and the Condition was such, that he would not serve you unless I would let him lye with me, he should lye with me as often as he would, rather than you should not have his Assistance; but this is but Talk, Madam, I don’t see any need of such Discourse, and you are of Opinion that there will be no need of it.
Indeed so I am, Amy; but, said I, if there was, I tell you again, I’d die before I would consent, or before you should consent for my sake.
Hitherto I had not only preserv’d the Virtue itself, but the virtuous Inclination and Resolution; and had I kept myself there, I had been happy, tho’ I had perish’d of meer Hunger;40 for, without question, a Woman ought rather to die, than to prostitute her Virtue and Honour, let the Temptation be what it will.
But to return to my Story; he walk’d about the Garden; which was, indeed, all in Disorder, and over-run with Weeds, because I had not been able to hire a Gardener to do any thing to it, no not so much as to dig up Ground enough to sow a few Turnips and Carrots for Family-Use: After he had view’d it, he came in, and sent Amy to fetch a poor Man, a Gardener, that us’d to help our Man-Servant, and carry’d him into the Garden, and order’d him to do several things in it, to put it into a little Order; and this took him up near an Hour.
By this time I had dress’d me, as well as I could, for tho’ I had good Linnen left still, yet I had but a poor Head-Dress, and no Knots, but old Fragments; no Necklace, no Ear-Rings; all those things were gone long ago for meer Bread.
However, I was tight41 and clean, and in better Plight than he had seen me in a great while, and he look’d extreamly pleas’d to see me so; for he said I look’d so disconsolate, and so afflicted before, that it griev’d him to see me; and he bade me pluck up a good Heart, for he hop’d to put me in a Condition to live in the World, and be beholden to nobody.
I told him that was impossible, for I must be beholden to him for it, for all the Friends I had in the World wou’d not, or cou’d not, do so much for me as that he spoke of. Well, Widow, says he, so he call’d me, and so indeed I was in the worst Sence that desolate Word cou’d be us’d in, if you are beholden to me, you shall be beholden to nobody else.
By this time Dinner was ready, and Amy came in to lay the Cloth, and indeed, it was happy there was none to Dine but he and I, for I had but six Plates left in the House, and but two Dishes; however, he knew how things were, and bade me make no Scruple about bringing out what I had, he hop’d to see me in a better Plight, he did not come, he said, to be Entertain’d, but to Entertain me, and Comfort and Encourage me: Thus he went on, speaking so chearfully to me, and such chearful things, that it was a Cordial to my very Soul, to hear him speak.
Well, we went to Dinner, I’m sure I had not eat a good Meal hardly in a Twelvemonth, at least, not of such a Joint of Meat as the Loin of Veal was; I eat indeed very heartily, and so did he, and he made me drink three or four Glasses of Wine, so that, in short, my Spirits were lifted up to a Degree I had not been us’d to, and I was not only chearful, but merry, and so he press’d me to be.
I told him, I had a great deal of Reason to be merry, seeing he had been so kind to me, and had given me Hopes of recovering me from the worst Circumstances that ever Woman of any sort of Fortune, was sunk into; that he cou’d not but believe that what he had said to me, was like Life from the Dead; that it was like recovering one Sick from the Brink of the Grave; how I should ever make him a Return any way suitable, was what I had not yet had time to think of; I cou’d only say, that I should never forget it while I had Life, and shou’d be always ready
to acknowlege it.
He said, That was all he desir’d of me, that his Reward would be, the Satisfaction of having rescued me from Misery; that he found he was obliging one that knew what Gratitude meant; that he would make it his Business to make me compleatly Easie, first or last, if it lay in his Power; and in the mean time, he bade me consider of any thing that I thought he might do for me, for my Advantage, and in order to make me perfectly easie.
After we had talk’d thus, he bade me be chearful; come, says he, lay aside these melancholly things, and let us be merry: Amy waited at the Table, and she smil’d, and laugh’d, and was so merry she could hardly contain it, for the Girl lov’d me to an Excess, hardly to be describ’d; and it was such an unexpected thing to hear any one talk to her Mistress, that the Wench was besides herself almost, and as soon as Dinner was over, Amy went up-Stairs, and put on her Best Clothes too, and came down dress’d like a Gentlewoman.
We sat together talking of a thousand Things, of what had been, and what was to be, all the rest of the Day, and in the Evening he took his Leave of me, with a thousand Expressions of Kindness and Tenderness, and true Affection to me, but offer’d not the least of what my Maid Amy had suggested.
At his going away, he took me in his Arms, protested an honest Kindness to me; said a thousand kind things to me, which I cannot now recollect, and after kissing me twenty times, or thereabouts, put a Guinea into my Hand; which, he said, was for my present Supply, and told me, that he would see me again, before ’twas out; also he gave Amy Half a Crown.
When he was gone, Well, Amy, said I, are you convinc’d now that he is an honest as well as a true Friend, and that there has been nothing, not the least Appearance of any thing of what you imagin’d, in his Behaviour: Yes, says Amy, I am, but I admire at it; he is such a Friend as the World, sure, has not abundance of to show.
I am sure, says I, he is such a Friend as I have long wanted, and as I have as much Need of as any Creature in the World has, or ever had; and, in short, I was so overcome with the Comfort of it, that I sat down and cry’d for Joy a good-while, as I had formerly cry’d for Sorrow. Amy and I went to Bed that Night (for Amy lay with me) pretty early, but lay chatting almost all Night about it, and the Girl was so transported, that she got up two or three times in the Night, and danc’d about the Room in her Shift; in short, the Girl was half distracted with the Joy of it; a Testimony still of her violent Affection for her Mistress, in which no Servant ever went beyond her.
We heard no more of him for two Days, but the third Day he came again; then he told me, with the same Kindness, that he had order’d me a Supply of Houshold Goods for the furnishing the House; that in particular, he had sent me back all the Goods that he had seiz’d for Rent, which consisted, indeed, of the best of my former Furniture; and now, says he, I’ll tell you what I have had in my Head for you, for your present Supply, and that is, says he, that the House being well furnish’d, you shall Let it out to Lodgings, for the Summer Gentry, says he, by which you will easily get a good comfortable Subsistance, especially seeing you shall pay me no Rent for two Years, nor after neither, unless you can afford it.
This was the first View I had of living comfortably indeed, and it was a very probable Way, I must confess; seeing we had very good Conveniences, six Rooms on a Floor, and three Stories high: While he was laying down the Scheme of my Management, came a Cart to the Door with a Load of Goods, and an Upholsterer’s Man to put them up; they were chiefly the Furniture of two Rooms, which he had carried away for his two Years Rent, with two fine Cabinets, and some Peir-Glasses, out of the Parlour, and several other valuable things.
These were all restor’d to their Places, and he told me he gave them me freely, as a Satisfaction for the Cruelty he had us’d me with before; and the Furniture of one Room being finish’d, and set up, he told me, he would furnish one Chamber for himself, and would come and be one of my Lodgers, if I would give him Leave.
I told him, he ought not to ask me Leave, who had so much Right to make himself welcome; so the House began to look in some tollerable Figure, and clean; the Garden also, in about a Fortnight’s Work, began to look something less like a Wilderness than it us’d to do; and he order’d me to put up a Bill for Letting Rooms, reserving one for himself, to come to as he saw Occasion.
When all was done to his Mind, as to placing the Goods, he seem’d very well pleas’d, and we din’d together again of his own providing, and the Upholsterer’s Man gone; after Dinner he took me by the Hand, Come, now Madam, says he, you must show me your House, (for he had a-Mind to see every thing over again). No, Sir, said I, but I’ll go show you your House, if you please; so we went up thro’ all the Rooms, and in the Room which was appointed for himself, Amy was doing something; Well, Amy, says he, I intend to Lye with you to Morrow-Night; To Night, if you please Sir, says Amy very innocently, your Room is quite ready: Well Amy, says he, I am glad you are so willing: No, says Amy, I mean your Chamber is ready to-Night, and away she run out of the Room asham’d enough; for the Girl meant no Harm, whatever she had said to me in private.
However, he said no more then; but when Amy was gone, he walk’d about the Room, and look’d at every thing, and taking me by the Hand, he kiss’d me, and spoke a great many kind, affectionate things to me indeed; as of his Measures for my Advantage, and what he wou’d do to raise me again in the World; told me, that my Afflictions, and the Conduct I had shown in bearing them to such an Extremity, had so engag’d him to me, that he valued me infinitely above all the Women in the World; that tho’ he was under such Engagements that he cou’d not Marry me, [his Wife and he had been parted, for some Reasons, which make too long a Story to intermix with mine] yet that he wou’d be every thing else that a Woman cou’d ask in a Husband, and with that he kiss’d me again, and took me in his Arms, but offer’d not the least uncivil Action to me, and told me, he hop’d I would not deny him all the Favours he should ask, because he resolv’d to ask nothing of me but what it was fit for a Woman of Virtue and Modesty, for such he knew me to be, to yield.
I confess, the terrible Pressure of my former Misery, the Memory of which lay heavy upon my Mind, and the surprizing Kindness with which he had deliver’d me, and withal, the Expectations of what he might still do for me, were powerful things, and made me have scarce the Power to deny him any thing he wou’d ask; however, I told him thus, with an Air of Tenderness too, that he had done so much for me, that I thought I ought to deny him nothing, only I hop’d, and depended upon him, that he wou’d not take the Advantage of the infinite Obligations I was under to him, to desire any thing of me, the yielding to which, would lay me lower in his Esteem than I desir’d to be; that as I took him to be a Man of Honour, so I knew he could not like me the better for doing any thing that was below a Woman of Honesty and Good Manners to do.
He told me, that he had done all this for me, without so much as telling me what Kindness or real Affection he had for me; that I might not be under any Necessity of yielding to him in any thing, for want of Bread; and he would no more oppress my Gratitude now, than he would my Necessity before, nor ask any thing, supposing he would stop his Favours, or withdraw his Kindness, if he was deny’d; it was true, he said, he might tell me more freely his Mind now, than before, seeing I had let him see that I accepted his Assistance, and saw that he was sincere in his Design of serving me; that he had gone thus far to shew me that he was kind to me, but that now he would tell me, that he lov’d me, and yet wou’d demonstrate that his Love was both honourable, and that what he shou’d desire, was what he might honestly ask, and I might honestly grant.
I answer’d, That within those two Limitations, I was sure I ought to deny him nothing, and I should think myself not ungrateful only, but very unjust, if I shou’d; so he said no more, but I observ’d he kiss’d me more, and took me in his Arms in a kind of familiar Way, more than usual, and which once or twice put me in Mind of my Maid Amy’s Words; and yet, I must acknowlege, I was so overcome with his Goodness to me in those man
y kind things he had done, that I not only was easie at what he did, and made no Resistance, but was inclin’d to do the like, whatever he had offered to do: But he went no farther than what I have said, nor did he offer so much as to sit down on the Bed-side with me, but took his Leave, said he lov’d me tenderly, and would convince me of it by such Demonstrations as should be to my Satisfaction: I told him, I had a great deal of Reason to believe him; that he was full Master of the whole House, and of me, as far as was within the Bounds we had spoken of, which I believ’d he would not break; and ask’d him if he wou’d not Lodge there that Night.
He said, he cou’d not well stay that Night, Business requiring him in London, but added, smiling, that he wou’d come the next Day, and take a Night’s Lodging with me. I press’d him to stay that Night, and told him, I should be glad a Friend so valuable should be under the same Roof with me; and indeed, I began at that time not only to be much oblig’d to him, but to love him too, and that in a Manner that I had not been acquainted with myself.
O let no Woman slight the Temptation that being generously deliver’d from. Trouble, is to any Spirit furnish’d with Gratitude and just Principles: This Gentleman had freely and voluntarily deliver’d me from Misery, from Poverty, and Rags; he had made me what I was, and put me into a Way to be even more than I ever was, namely, to live happy and pleas’d, and on his Bounty I depended: What could I say to this Gentleman when he press’d me to yield to him, and argued the Lawfullness of it? But of that in its Place.
I press’d him again to stay that Night, and told him it was the first compleatly happy Night that I had ever had in the House in my Life, and I should be very sorry to have it be without his Company, who was the Cause and Foundation of it all; that we would be innocently merry, but that it could never be without him; and, in short, I courted him so, that he said, he cou’d not deny me, but he wou’d take his Horse, and go to London, do the Business he had to do, which, it seems, was to pay a Foreign Bill42 that was due that Night, and wou’d else be protested; and that he wou’d come back in three Hours at farthest, and Sup with me, but bade me get nothing there, for since I was resolv’d to be merry, which was what he desir’d above all things, he wou’d send me something from London, and we will make it a Wedding Supper, my Dear, says he, and with that Word, took me in his Arms; and kiss’d me so vehemently, that I made no question but he intended to do every thing else that Amy had talk’d of.
