'The villain!' muttered Stuart.
'Afterwards I left him,' continued I, 'and walked the streets, till I was taken up for a robbery, and put into the watchhouse.'
'Is this fact?' asked Stuart, 'or are you merely sporting with my feelings?'
''Tis fact, on my honour,' said I, 'and to conclude my short, but pathetic tale, a gentleman, a mysterious and amiable youth, met me by mere accident, after my release; and I am, at present, under his protection.'
'A shocking account indeed!' said he. 'But have you never considered the consequences of continuing this abandoned course of life?'
'Now here is a pretty insinuation!' cried I; 'but such is always the fate of us poor heroines. No, never can we get through an innocent adventure in peace and quietness, without having our virtue called in question. 'Tis always our virtue, our virtue. If we are caught coming out of a young man's bed-room,—'tis our virtue. If we remain a whole night in the streets,—'tis our virtue. If we make a nocturnal assignation,—Oh! 'tis our virtue, our virtue. Such a rout as they make.'
'I regret,' said Stuart, 'to see you treat the subject so lightly, but I do beseech of you to recollect, that your wretched parent——'
''Tis a fine night, Sir.'
'That your wretched parent——'
'Sir,' said I, 'when spleen takes the form of remonstrance, a lecture is only a scolding put into good language. This is my house, Sir.' And I stopped at the door.