Cl.  Has he been making a bad cause a good one with you, Madam?—­That he can do with those who know him not.  Indeed I heard him talking, thought not what he said, and am indifferent about it.—­But what account does he give of himself?

I was pleased to hear this.  To arrest, to stop her passion, thought I, in the height of its career, is a charming presage.

Then the busy Miss Rawlins fished on, to find out from her either a confirmation or disavowal of my story—­Was Lord M. my uncle?  Did I court her at first with the allowance of her friends, her brother excepted?  Had I a rencounter with that brother?  Was she so persecuted in favour of a very disagreeable man, one Solmes, as to induce her to throw herself into my protection?

None of these were denied.  All the objections she could have made, were stifled, or kept in, by the considerations, (as she mentioned,) that she should stay there but a little while, and that her story was too long; but Miss Rawlins would not be thus easily answered.

Miss R. He says, Madam, that he could not prevail for marriage, till he had consented, under a solemn oath, to separate beds, while your family remained unreconciled.

Cl.  O the wretch!  What can be still in his head, to endeavour to pass these stories upon strangers?

So no direct denial, thought I.—­Admirable!—­All will do by-and-by.

Miss R. He has owned that an accidental fire had frightened you very much on Wednesday night—­and that—­and that—­an accidental fire had frightened you—­very much frightened you—­last Wednesday night!

Then, after a short pause—­In short, he owned, that he had taken some innocent liberties, which might have led to a breach of the oath you had imposed upon him; and that this was the cause of your displeasure.

I would have been glad to see how my charmer then looked.—­To be sure she was at a loss in her own mind, to justify herself for resenting so highly an offence so trifling.—­She hesitated—­did not presently speak.—­When she did, she wished that she, (Miss Rawlins,) might never meet with any man who would take such innocent liberties with her.

Miss Rawlins pushed further.

Your case, to be sure, Madam, is very particular:  but if the hope of a reconciliation with your own friends is made more distant by your leaving him, give me leave to say, that ’tis pity—­’tis pity—­[I suppose the maiden then primm’d, fann’d, and blush’d—­’tis pity] the oath cannot be dispensed with; especially as he owns he has not been so strict a liver.

I could have gone in and kissed the girl.

Cl.  You have heard his story.  Mine, as I told you before, is too long, and too melancholy:  my disorder on seeing the wretch is too great; and my time here is too short, for me to enter upon it.  And if he has any end to serve by his own vindication, in which I shall not be a personal sufferer, let him make himself appear as white as an angel, with all my heart.