'I staid at Bath all the time he was there: he visited me every day; but I lived on my own money till we came to town, when my time being very near, he brought me to the place you find me in, having, it seems, agreed with the woman of the house for a certain sum of money to support me during my lying-in, and keep the child as long as it should live. The miseries I have sustained during my abode with this old hag, would be too tedious to repeat. The only joy I have is, that the wretched infant died in three days after it's birth, so has escaped the woes which children thus exposed are doomed to bear. Wildly has taken his last leave of me, and I have wrote to an aunt, entreating her to endeavour to obtain my father's forgiveness. I pretended to her that I left L——e for no other reason than because I had an ardent desire to see London; and as I think nobody can reveal to him the true cause, have some hopes of not being utterly abandoned by him.'
Here this unfortunate creature finished her long narrative; and Miss Betsy saw her in too much affliction to express any thing that might increase it: she only thanked her for reposing a confidence in her; 'Which,' said she, 'may be of great service to me some time or other.'
Before they parted, Miss Forward said she had gone in debt to Mrs. Nightshade, for some few things she wanted, over and above what is generally allowed in such cases, and had been affronted by her for not being able to discharge it; therefore intreated Miss Betsy to lend her twenty shillings; on which the generous and sweet-tempered young lady immediately drew her purse, and after giving her the sum she demanded, put two guineas more into her hand. 'Be pleased to accept this,' said she; 'you may possibly want something after having paid your debt.' The other thanked her, and told her she doubted not but her aunt would send her something, and she would then repay it. 'I shall give myself no pain about that,' said Miss Betsy: and then took her leave, desiring she would let her know by a letter what success she had with her friends. Miss Forward told her she might depend not only on hearing from her, but seeing her again, as soon as she had any thing to acquaint her with.
CHAPTER XV
Brings many things on the carpet, highly pleasing to Miss Betsy, in their beginning, and no less perplexing to her in their consequences
The accounts of those many and dreadful misfortunes which the ill conduct of Miss Forward had drawn upon her, made Miss Betsy extremely pensive. 'It is strange,' said she to herself, 'that a woman cannot indulge in the liberty of conversing freely with a man, without being persuaded by him to do every thing he would have her.' She thought, however, that some excuse might be made for Miss Forward, on the score of her being strictly debarred from all acquaintance with the other sex. 'People,' cried she, 'have naturally an inclination to do what they are most forbid. The poor girl had a curiosity to hear herself addressed; and having no opportunity of gratifying that passion, but by admitting her lover at so odd a time and place, was indeed too much in his power to have withstood her ruin, even if she had been mistress of more courage and resolution than she was.'
On meditating on the follies which women are sometimes prevailed upon to be guilty of, the discovery she had made of Miss Flora's intrigue with Gayland came fresh into her mind. 'What,' said she, 'could induce her to sacrifice her honour? Declarations of love were not new to her. She heard every day the flatteries with which our sex are treated by the men, and needed not to have purchased the assiduities of any one of them at so dear a rate. Good God! are innocence, and the pride on conscious virtue, things of so little estimation, as to be thrown away for the trifling pleasure of hearing a few tender protestations? perhaps all false, and uttered by one whose heart despises the early fondness he has triumphed over, and ridicules the very grant of what he has so earnestly solicited!'
It is certain this young lady had the highest notions of honour and virtue; and whenever she gave herself time to reflect, looked on every thing that had a tendency to make an encroachment on them with the most extreme detestation; yet had the good-nature enough to pity those faults in others, she thought it impossible for her to be once guilty of herself.