A thought came into my head; I meant no harm; but it was a little bold.
For, seeing my master dressing to go to church; and his chariot getting
ready, I went to my closet, and I writ, The prayers of this congregation are earnestly desired for a
gentleman of great worth and honour, who labours under a temptation
to exert his great power to ruin a poor, distressed, worthless
maiden: And also, The prayers of this congregation are earnestly desired by a poor
distressed creature, for the preservation of her virtue and
innocence. Mrs. Jewkes came up: Always writing! said she; and would see it: And
strait, all that ever I could say, carried it down to my master.--He
looked upon it, and said, Tell her, she shall soon see how her prayers
are answered; she is very bold: but as she has rejected all my favours,
her reckoning for all is not far off. I looked after him out of the
window; and he was charmingly dressed: To be sure he is a handsome fine
gentleman!--What pity his heart is not as good as his appearance! Why
can't I hate him?--But don't be uneasy, if you should see this; for it
is impossible I should love him; for his vices all ugly him over, as I
may say. My master sends word, that he shall not come home to dinner: I suppose
he dines with this Sir Simon Darnford. I am much concerned for poor Mr.
Williams. Mrs. Jewkes says, he is confined still, and takes on much. All
his trouble is brought upon him for my sake: This grieves me much. My
master, it seems, will have his money from him. This is very hard; for
it is three fifty pounds, he gave him, as he thought, as a salary
for three years that he has been with him: but there was no agreement
between them; and he absolutely depended on my master's favour. To be
sure, it was the more generous of him to run these risks for the sake
of oppressed innocence: and I hope he will meet with his reward in
due time. Alas for me! I dare not plead for him; that would raise my
oppressor's jealousy more. And I have not interest to save myself! Sunday evening. Mrs. Jewkes has received a line from my master: I wonder what it is, for
his chariot is come home without him. But she will tell me nothing; so
it is in vain to ask her. I am so fearful of plots and tricks, I know
not what to do!--Every thing I suspect; for, now my disgrace is avowed,
what can I think!--To be sure, the worst will be attempted! I can only
pour out my soul in prayer to God, for his blessed protection. But, if
I must suffer, let me not be long a mournful survivor!--Only let me not
shorten my own time sinfully!---This woman left upon the table, in the chamber, this letter of my
master's to her; and I bolted myself in, till I had transcribed it.
You'll see how tremblingly, by the lines. I wish poor Mr. Williams's
release at any rate; but this letter makes my heart ache. Yet I have
another day's reprieve, thank God!