As the family of his late consort were rich and powerful Mr. Freeman checked his libertine pursuits for a time; but the strength of habit soon overcame the dictates of prudence, and again he listened to the powerful calls of vice and dissipation.
A few months after Mrs. Freeman’s death he informed his friend Easton that he would introduce him to a young creature, lovely as imagination could form. He owned that the connection between them, being only that of sentiment, became rather troublesome; that she had denied him the most distant favour, and, in tears, regretted her ever giving way to a hopeless passion which had driven her from home, and subjected her to dangers of every kind.
“I first saw,” he continued, “this foolish girl at the neighbouring convent---Her beauty charmed me; I gained her attention, and held many conversations at the grate, in the course of which she informed me that, disappointed in a love affair, and to avoid a forced marriage, she had fled from her guardian, and sought refuge in the convent.
“I need not tell you, Easton, how love-sick girls are wrought upon. I found more sensibility than prudence—her sorrows subsided as I artfully dropped an answering tear, accompanied with a well-feigned emotion. I used every means which is common with us fellows of intrigue, and at length gained her consent to suffer me to procure her enlargement, on my promise of protection and friendship.
“Her remove from the convent was, with some difficulty and no small degree of danger, effected; when, expecting my reward and urging her to be kind, she wept, said I had deceived her, and thus addressed me:——‘Cease, Sir, to alarm, with professions of love, a poor young creature that knows not where to fly. Ask me for my friendship and esteem, and honour me with your’s, and I shall be as happy as my fortunes will permit. I wished to cast myself on your protection, from a confidence in your honour—I have done it—betray not then, oh! betray not the trust reposed in you. If you take a violent and cruel advantage of my situation, short will be your pleasure—but lasting your pain. You will at once lose all the respect I now bear you, and render me completely wretched: it is too true I am in your power, but do not, oh! do not abuse that power, by plunging a wretch, already almost lost, into infamy and perdition.’
“I give you her own words, Easton, for you will find her romantic in the extreme, with all the airs of dignity and virtue about her. I endeavoured all I could to comfort and compose her spirits, and offered to write home to her guardian; but to this she would not consent, as in such a case her name would be exposed. ‘If,’ said she, ‘imputed guilt is to be my portion, let me, with life, lament the effects of my imprudent flight—but there are, whom, my folly might disgrace, should an unfeeling world cast a stigma upon me—know me, therefore, only as—the wretched Julia!’
“Upon this I left her, fool enough to be somewhat affected, and what she means to do I cannot tell; I had procured her an apartment in a private part of the city, with a servant to attend her; but not finding in me the father she expected, I have a strong idea that she means to play me the slip and steal away without my knowledge, which would prove a disappointment to both of us.
“For, Easton, as you are a fine fellow, and withal somewhat younger than myself, as I cannot succeed, I think you might venture a trial upon your own account.”
“A friendly proposal,” exclaimed Easton, “convey me to her, and what love, gallantry, and fine speeches can effect, depend on.”
The agreement made, they proceeded to pay a visit to the unfortunate young lady.