Amy. My mistress, sir, alas! not the mistress you mean; poor gentlewoman, you left her in a sad condition.
Gent. Why, that's true, Amy; but it could not be helped; I was in a sad condition myself.
Amy. I believe so, indeed, sir, or else you had not gone away as you did; for it was a very terrible condition you left them all in, that I must say.
Gent. What did they do after I was gone?
Amy. Do, sir! Very miserably, you may be sure. How could it be otherwise?
Gent. Well, that's true indeed; but you may tell me, Amy, what became of them, if you please; for though I went so away, it was not because I did not love them all very well, but because I could not bear to see the poverty that was coming upon them, and which it was not in my power to help. What could I do?
Amy. Nay, I believe so indeed; and I have heard my mistress say many times she did not doubt but your affliction was as great as hers, almost, wherever you were.
Gent. Why, did she believe I was alive, then?
Amy. Yes, sir; she always said she believed you were alive, because she thought she should have heard something of you if you had been dead.
Gent. Ay, ay; my perplexity was very great indeed, or else I had never gone away.