by Daniel Defoe
injustice, believethat I yielded upon all these persuasions without a love not to bequestioned, not to be shaken again by anything that could happenafterward. If you have such dishonourable thoughts of me, I must askyou what foundation in any of my behaviour have I given for such asuggestion?
'If, then, I have yielded to the importunities of my affection, and ifI have been persuaded to believe that I am really, and in the essenceof the thing, your wife, shall I now give the lie to all thosearguments and call myself your whore, or mistress, which is the samething? And will you transfer me to your brother? Can you transfer myaffection? Can you bid me cease loving you, and bid me love him? Itis in my power, think you, to make such a change at demand? No, sir,'said I, 'depend upon it 'tis impossible, and whatever the change ofyour side may be, I will ever be true; and I had much rather, since itis come that unhappy length, be your whore than your brother's wife.'
He appeared pleased and touched with the impression of this lastdiscourse, and told me that he stood where he did before; that he hadnot been unfaithful to me in any one promise he had ever made yet, butthat there were so many terrible things presented themselves to hisview in the affair before me, and that on my account in particular,that he had thought of the other as a remedy so effectual as nothingcould come up to it. That he thought this would not be entire partingus, but we might love as friends all our days, and perhaps with moresatisfaction than we should in the station we were now in, as thingsmight happen; that he durst say, I could not apprehend anything fromhim as to betraying a secret, which could not but be the destruction ofus both, if it came out; that he had but one question to ask of me thatcould lie in the way of it, and if that question was answered in thenegative, he could not but think still it was the only step I couldtake.
I guessed at his question presently, namely, whether I was sure I wasnot with child? As to that, I told him he need not be concerned aboutit, for I was not with child. 'Why, then, my dear,' says he, 'we haveno time to talk further now. Consider of it, and think closely aboutit; I cannot but be of the opinion still, that it will be the bestcourse you can take.' And with this he took his leave, and the morehastily too, his mother and sisters ringing at the gate, just at themoment that he had risen up to go.
He left me in the utmost confusion of thought; and he easily perceivedit the next day, and all the rest of the week, for it was but Tuesdayevening when we talked; but he had no opportunity to come at me allthat week, till the Sunday after, when I, being indisposed, did not goto church, and he, making some excuse for the like, stayed at home.
And now he had me an hour and a half again by myself, and we fell intothe same arguments all over again, or at least so near the same, as itwould be to no purpose to repeat them. At last I asked him warmly,what opinion he must have of my modesty, that he could suppose I shouldso much as entertain a thought of lying with two brothers, and assuredhim it could never be. I added, if he was to tell me that he wouldnever see me more, than which nothing but death could be more terrible,yet I could never entertain a thought so dishonourable to myself, andso base to him; and therefore, I entreated him, if he had one grain ofrespect or affection left for me, that he would speak no more of it tome, or that he would pull his sword out and kill me. He appearedsurprised at my obstinacy, as he called it; told me I was unkind tomyself, and unkind to him in it; that it was a crisis unlooked for uponus both, and impossible for either of us to foresee, but that he didnot see any other way to save us both from ruin, and therefore hethought it the more unkind; but that if he must say no more of it tome, he added with an unusual coldness, that he did not know anythingelse we had to talk of; and so he rose up to take his leave. I rose uptoo, as if with the same indifference; but when he came to give me asit were a parting kiss, I burst out into such a passion of crying, thatthough I would have spoke, I could not, and only pressing his hand,seemed to give him the adieu, but cried vehemently.
He was sensibly moved with this; so he sat down again, and said a greatmany kind things to me, to abate the excess of my passion, but stillurged the necessity of what he had proposed; all the while insisting,that if I did refuse, he would notwithstanding provide for me; butletting me plainly see that he would decline me in the main point--nay,even as a mistress; making it a point of honour not to lie with thewoman that, for aught he knew, might come to be his brother's wife.
The bare loss of him as a gallant was not so much my affliction as theloss of his person, whom indeed I loved to distraction; and the loss ofall the expectations I had, and which I always had built my hopes upon,of having him one day for my husband. These things oppressed my mindso much, that, in short, I fell very ill; the agonies of my mind, in aword, threw me into a high fever, and long it was, that none in thefamily expected my life.
I was reduced very low indeed, and was often delirious andlight-headed; but nothing lay so near me as the fear that, when I waslight-headed, I should say something or other to his prejudice. I wasdistressed in my mind also to see him, and so he was to see me, for hereally loved me most passionately; but it could not be; there was notthe least room to desire it on one side or other, or so much as to makeit decent.
It was near five weeks that I kept my bed and though the violence of myfever abated in three weeks, yet it several times returned; and thephysicians said two or three times, they could do no more for me, butthat they must leave nature and the distemper to fight it out, onlystrengthening the first with cordials to maintain the struggle. Afterthe end of five weeks I grew better, but was so weak, so altered, somelancholy, and recovered so slowly, that they physicians apprehended Ishould go into a consumption; and which vexed me most, they gave it astheir opinion that my mind was oppressed, that something troubled me,and, in short, that I was in love. Upon this, the whole house was setupon me to examine me, and to press me to tell whether I was in love ornot, and with whom; but as I well might, I denied my being in love atall.
They had on this occasion a squabble one day about me at table, thathad like to have put the whole family in an uproar, and for some timedid so. They happened to be all at table but the father; as for me, Iwas ill, and in my chamber. At the beginning of the talk, which wasjust as they had finished their dinner, the old gentlewoman, who hadsent me somewhat to eat, called her maid to go up and ask me if I wouldhave any more; but the maid brought down word I had not eaten half whatshe had sent me already.
'Alas, says the old lady, 'that poor girl! I am afraid she will neverbe well.'
'Well!' says the elder brother, 'how should Mrs. Betty be well? Theysay she is in love.'
'I believe nothing of it,' says the old gentlewoman.
'I don't know,' says the eldest sister, 'what to say to it; they havemade such a rout about her being so handsome, and so charming, and Iknow not what, and that in her hearing too, that has turned thecreature's head, I believe, and who knows what possessions may followsuch doings? For my part, I don't know what to make of it.'
'Why, sister, you must acknowledge she is very handsome,' says theelder brother.
'Ay, and a great deal handsomer than you, sister,' says Robin, 'andthat's your mortification.'
'Well, well, that is not the question,' says his sister; 'that girl iswell enough, and she knows it well enough; she need not be told of itto make her vain.'
'We are not talking of her being vain,' says the elder brother, 'but ofher being in love; it may be she is in love with herself; it seems mysisters think so.'
'I would she was in love with me,' says Robin; 'I'd quickly put her outof her pain.'
'What d'ye mean by that, son,' says the old lady; 'how can you talk so?'
'Why, madam,' says Robin, again, very honestly, 'do you think I'd letthe poor girl die for love, and of one that is near at hand to be had,too?'
'Fie, brother!', says the second sister, 'how can you talk so? Wouldyou take a creature that has not a groat in the world?'
'Prithee, child,' says Robin, 'beauty's a portion, and good-humour withit is a double portion; I wish t
hou hadst half her stock of both forthy portion.' So there was her mouth stopped.
'I find,' says the eldest sister, 'if Betty is not in love, my brotheris. I wonder he has not broke his mind to Betty; I warrant she won'tsay No.'
'They that yield when they're asked,' says Robin, 'are one step beforethem that were never asked to yield, sister, and two steps before themthat yield before they are asked; and that's an answer to you, sister.'
This fired the sister, and she flew into a passion, and said, thingswere come to that pass that it was time the wench, meaning me, was outof the family; and but that she was not fit to be turned out, she hopedher father and mother would consider of it as soon as she
