children. And first, opening my bundles oneday in my chamber, I heard her in another room, and called her in with akind of familiar way. There I showed her some of my fine clothes, andhaving among the rest of my things a piece of very fine new holland,which I had bought a little before, worth about 9s. an ell, I pulled itout: "Here, my friend," says I, "I will make you a present, if you willaccept of it;" and with that I laid the piece of Holland in her lap.
I could see she was surprised, and that she could hardly speak. "Whatdost thou mean?" says she. "Indeed I cannot have the face to accept sofine a present as this;" adding, "'Tis fit for thy own use, but 'tisabove my wear, indeed." I thought she had meant she must not wear it sofine because she was a Quaker. So I returned, "Why, do not you Quakerswear fine linen neither?" "Yes," says she, "we wear fine linen when wecan afford it, but this is too good for me." However, I made her takeit, and she was very thankful too. But my end was answered another way,for by this I engaged her so, that as I found her a woman ofunderstanding, and of honesty too, I might, upon any occasion, have aconfidence in her, which was, indeed, what I very much wanted.
By accustoming myself to converse with her, I had not only learned todress like a Quaker, but so used myself to "thee" and "thou" that Italked like a Quaker too, as readily and naturally as if I had been bornamong them; and, in a word, I passed for a Quaker among all people thatdid not know me. I went but little abroad, but I had been so used to acoach that I knew not how well to go without one; besides, I thought itwould be a farther disguise to me, so I told my Quaker friend one daythat I thought I lived too close, that I wanted air. She proposedtaking a hackney-coach sometimes, or a boat; but I told her I had alwayshad a coach of my own till now, and I could find in my heart to have oneagain.
She seemed to think it strange at first, considering how close I lived,but had nothing to say when she found I did not value the expense; so,in short, I resolved I would have a coach. When we came to talk ofequipages, she extolled the having all things plain. I said so too; so Ileft it to her direction, and a coachmaker was sent for, and he providedme a plain coach, no gilding or painting, lined with a light grey cloth,and my coachman had a coat of the same, and no lace on his hat.
When all was ready I dressed myself in the dress I bought of her, andsaid, "Come, I'll be a Quaker to-day, and you and I'll go abroad;" whichwe did, and there was not a Quaker in the town looked less like acounterfeit than I did. But all this was my particular plot, to be themore completely concealed, and that I might depend upon being not known,and yet need not be confined like a prisoner and be always in fear; sothat all the rest was grimace.
We lived here very easy and quiet, and yet I cannot say I was so in mymind; I was like a fish out of water. I was as gay and as young in mydisposition as I was at five-and-twenty; and as I had always beencourted, flattered, and used to love it, so I missed it in myconversation; and this put me many times upon looking back upon thingspast.
I had very few moments in my life which, in their reflection, affordedme anything but regret: but of all the foolish actions I had to lookback upon in my life, none looked so preposterous and so likedistraction, nor left so much melancholy on my mind, as my parting withmy friend, the merchant of Paris, and the refusing him upon suchhonourable and just conditions as he had offered; and though on his just(which I called unkind) rejecting my invitation to come to him again, Ihad looked on him with some disgust, yet now my mind run upon himcontinually, and the ridiculous conduct of my refusing him, and I couldnever be satisfied about him. I flattered myself that if I could but seehim I could yet master him, and that he would presently forget all thathad passed that might be thought unkind; but as there was no room toimagine anything like that to be possible, I threw those thoughts offagain as much as I could.
However, they continually returned, and I had no rest night or day forthinking of him, who I had forgot above eleven years. I told Amy of it,and we talked it over sometimes in bed, almost whole nights together. Atlast Amy started a thing of her own head, which put it in a way ofmanagement, though a wild one too. "You are so uneasy, madam," says she,"about this Mr. ----, the merchant at Paris; come," says she, "if you'llgive me leave, I'll go over and see what's become of him."
"Not for ten thousand pounds," said I; "no, nor if you met him in thestreet, not to offer to speak to him on my account." "No," says Amy, "Iwould not speak to him at all; or if I did, I warrant you it shall notlook to be upon your account. I'll only inquire after him, and if he isin being, you shall hear of him; if not, you shall hear of him still,and that may be enough."
"Why," says I, "if you will promise me not to enter into anythingrelating to me with him, nor to begin any discourse at all unless hebegins it with you, I could almost be persuaded to let you go and try."
Amy promised me all that I desired; and, in a word, to cut the storyshort, I let her go, but tied her up to so many particulars that it wasalmost impossible her going could signify anything; and had she intendedto observe them, she might as well have stayed at home as have gone, forI charged her, if she came to see him, she should not so much as takenotice that she knew him again; and if he spoke to her, she should tellhim she was come away from me a great many years ago, and knew nothingwhat was become of me; that she had been come over to France six yearsago, and was married there, and lived at Calais; or to that purpose.
Amy promised me nothing, indeed; for, as she said, it was impossible forher to resolve what would be fit to do, or not to do, till she was thereupon the spot, and had found out the gentleman, or heard of him; butthat then, if I would trust her, as I had always done, she would answerfor it that she would do nothing but what should be for my interest,and what she would hope I should be very well pleased with.
With this general commission, Amy, notwithstanding she had been sofrighted at the sea, ventured her carcass once more by water, and awayshe goes to France. She had four articles of confidence in charge toinquire after for me, and, as I found by her, she had one for herself--Isay, four for me, because, though her first and principal errand was toinform myself of my Dutch merchant, yet I gave her in charge to inquire,second, after my husband, who I left a trooper in the _gens d'armes_;third, after that rogue of a Jew, whose very name I hated, and of whoseface I had such a frightful idea that Satan himself could notcounterfeit a worse; and, lastly, after my foreign prince. And shedischarged herself very well of them all, though not so successful as Iwished.
Amy had a very good passage over the sea, and I had a letter from her,from Calais, in three days after she went from London. When she came toParis she wrote me an account, that as to her first and most importantinquiry, which was after the Dutch merchant, her account was, that hehad returned to Paris, lived three years there, and quitting that city,went to live at Rouen; so away goes Amy for Rouen.
But as she was going to bespeak a place in the coach to Rouen, she meetsvery accidentally in the street with her gentleman, as I calledhim--that is to say, the Prince de ----'s gentleman, who had been herfavourite, as above.
You may be sure there were several other kind things happened betweenAmy and him, as you shall hear afterwards; but the two main things were,first, that Amy inquired about his lord, and had a full account of him,of which presently; and, in the next place, telling him whither she wasgoing and for what, he bade her not go yet, for that he would have aparticular account of it the next day from a merchant that knew him;and, accordingly, he brought her word the next day that he had been forsix years before that gone for Holland, and that he lived there still.
This, I say, was the first news from Amy for some time--I mean about mymerchant. In the meantime Amy, as I have said, inquired about the otherpersons she had in her instructions. As for the prince, the gentlemantold her he was gone into Germany, where his estate lay, and that helived there; that he had made great inquiry after me; that he (hisgentleman) had made all the search he had been able for me, but that hecould not hear of me; that he believed, if his lord had known I had beenin England, he would have gone over
to me; but that, after long inquiry,he was obliged to give it over; but that he verily believed, if he couldhave found me, he would have married me; and that he was extremelyconcerned that he could hear nothing of me.
I was not at all satisfied with Amy's account, but ordered her to go toRouen herself, which she did, and there with much difficulty (theperson she was directed to being dead)--I say, with much difficulty shecame to be informed that my merchant had lived there two years, orsomething more, but that, having met with a very great misfortune, hehad gone back to Holland, as the French merchant said, where he hadstayed two years; but with this addition, viz., that he came back againto Rouen, and lived in good reputation there another year; andafterwards he was gone to England, and that he lived in London. But