The poor girl, frighted at this (for every body fears Lady Davers), wrung her hands, and begged, for God’s sake, I would not acquaint Lady Davers with it.

“But how can I help it?—­Must I not connive at your proceedings, if I do not?  You are no fool, Polly, in other cases.  Tell me, how it is possible for me, in my situation, to avoid it?”

“I will tell your ladyship the whole truth; indeed I will—­if you will not tell Lady Davers.  I am ready to sink at the thoughts of Lady Davers knowing any thing of this.”

This looked sadly.  I pitied her, but yet was angry in my mind; for I saw, too plainly, that her conduct could not bear a scrutiny, not even in her own opinion, poor creature.

I said, “Make me acquainted with the whole.”—­“Will your ladyship promise—­“—­“I’ll promise nothing, Polly.  When I have heard all you think proper to say, I will do what befits me to do; but with as much tenderness as I can for you—­and that’s all you ought to expect me to promise.”—­“Why then, Madam—­But how can I speak it?—­I can speak sooner to any body, than to Lady Davers and you, Madam:  for her ladyship’s passion, and your ladyship’s virtue—­How shall I?”—­And then she threw herself at my feet, and hid her face with her apron.

I was in agonies for her, almost; I wept over her, and raised her up, and said, “Tell me all.  You cannot tell me worse than I apprehend, nor I hope so bad!  O Polly, tell me soon.—­For you give me great pain.”

And my back, with grief and compassion for the poor girl, was ready to open, as it seemed to me.—­In my former distresses, I have been overcome by fainting next to death, and was deprived of sense for some moments—­But else, I imagine, I must have felt some such affecting sensation, as the unhappy girl’s case gave me.

“Then, Madam, I own,” said she, “I have been too faulty.”—­“As how?—­As what?—­In what way?—­How faulty?”—­asked I, as quick as thought:  “you are not ruined, are you?—­Tell me, Polly!”—­“No, Madam, but—­“—­“But what?—­Say, but what?”—­“I had consented—­“—­“To what?”—­“To his proposals, Madam.”—­“What proposals?”—­“Why, Madam, I was to live with Mr. H.”

“I understand you too well—­But is it too late to break so wretched a bargain;—­have you already made a sacrifice of your honour?”

“No, Madam:  but I have given it under my hand.”

“Under your hand!—­Ah!  Polly, it is well if you have not given it under your heart too.  But what foolishness is this!—­What consideration has he made you?”—­“He has given it under his hand, that he will always love me; and when his lordship’s father dies, he will own me.”

“What foolishness is this on both sides!—­But are you willing to be released from this bargain?”

“Indeed I am.  Madam, and I told him so yesterday.  But he says he will sue me, and ruin me, if I don’t stand to it.”

“You are ruined if you do!—­And I wish—­But tell me, Polly, are you not ruined as it is?”