At last I said, “How long have these freedoms past between you and Mr. H.?—­I am loth to be censorious, Polly; but it is too plain, that Mr. H. would not have followed you into my chamber, if he had not met you at other places.”—­The poor girl said never a word.—­“Little did I expect, Polly, that you would have shewn so much imprudence.  You have had instances of the vile arts of men against poor maidens:  have you any notion that Mr. H. intends to do honourably by you?” —­“Me’m—­Me’m—­I believe—­I hope—­I dare say, Mr. H. would not do otherwise.”—­“So much the worse that you believe so, if you have not very good reason for your belief.  Does he pretend that he will marry you?”—­She was silent.—­“Tell me, Polly, if he does?”—­“He says he will do honourably by me.”—­“But you know there is but one word necessary to explain that other precious word honour, in this case.  It is matrimony.  That word is as soon spoken as any other, and if he means it, he will not be shy to speak it.”—­She was silent.—­ “Tell me, Polly (for I am really greatly concerned for you), what you think yourself; do you hope he will marry you?”—­She was silent.—­“Do, good Polly (I hope I may call you good yet!), answer me.”—­“Pray, Madam!” and she wept, and turned from me, to the wainscot—­“Pray, excuse me.”—­“But, indeed, Polly, I cannot excuse you.  You are under my protection.  I was once in as dangerous a situation as you can be in.  And I did not escape it, child, by the language and conduct I heard from you.”—­“Language and conduct, Me’m!”—­“Yes, Polly, language and conduct.  Do you think, if I had set me down in my lady’s bed-chamber, sung a song, and hemm’d twice, and Mr. B. coming to me, upon that signal (for such I doubt it was), I had kept my place, and suffered myself to be rumpled, and only, in a soft voice, and with an encouraging laugh, cried—­’How can you do so?’ that I should have been what I am?”—­“Me’m, I dare say, my lord” (so all the servants call him, and his aunt often, when she puts Jackey to it), “means no hurt.”—­“No hurt, Polly!  What, and make you cry ’Fie!’-or do you intend to trust your honour to his mercy, rather than to your own discretion?”—­“I hope not, Me’m!”—­“I hope not too, Polly!—­But you know he was free enough with you, to make you say ‘Fie!’ And what might have been the case, who knows? had I not coughed on purpose:  unwilling, for your sake, Polly, to find matters so bad as I feared, and that you would have been led beyond what was reputable.”

“Reputable, Me’m!”—­“Yes, Polly:  I am sorry you oblige me to speak so plain.  But your good requires it.  Instead of flying from him, you not only laughed when you cried out, ‘Fie!’ and ‘How can you do so?’ but had no other care than to see if any body heard you; and you observe how he slid away, like a guilty creature, on my opening the door—­Do these things look well, Polly?  Do you think they do?—­And if you hope to emulate my good fortune, do you think this is the way?”