Chocolate, as he had order’d, he catch’d her by the pretty Leg, which the Shortness of her Petticoat did not in the least oppose; then pulling her gently to him, ask’d her, how long she had been at Service?—How many Sweethearts she had? If she had ever been in Love? and many other such Questions, befitting one of the Degree she appear’d to be: All which she answer’d with such seeming Innocence, as more enflam’d the amorous Heart of him who talk’d to her. He compelled her to sit in his Lap; and gazing on her blushing Beauties, which, if possible, receiv’d Addition from her plain and rural Dress, he soon lost the Power of containing himself.—His wild Desires burst out in all his Words and Actions; he call’d her little Angel, Cherubim, swore he must enjoy her, though Death were to be the Consequence, devour’d her Lips, her Breasts with greedy Kisses, held to his burning Bosom her half-yielding, half-reluctant Body, nor suffer’d her to get loose, till he had ravaged all, and glutted each rapacious Sense with the sweet Beauties of the pretty Celia, for that was the Name she bore in this second Expedition.— Generous as Liberality itself to all who gave him Joy this way, he gave her a handsome Sum of Gold, which she durst not now refuse, for fear of creating some Mistrust, and losing the Heart she so lately had regain’d; therefore taking it with an humble Curtesy, and a well counterfeited Shew of Surprise and Joy, cry’d, O Law, Sir! what must I do for all this? He laughed at her Simplicity, and kissing her again, tho’ less fervently than he had done before, bad her not be out of the Way when he came home at Night. She promis’d she would not, and very obediently kept her Word.
HIS Stay at Bath exceeded not a Month; but in that Time his suppos’d Country Lass had persecuted him so much with her Fondness, that in spite of the Eagerness with which he first enjoy’d her, he was at last grown more weary of her, than he had been of Fantomina; which she perceiving, would not be troublesome, but quitting her Service, remained privately in the Town till she heard he was on his Return; and in that Time provided herself of another Disguise to carry on a third Plot, which her inventing Brain had furnished her with, once more to renew his twice-decay’d Ardours.The Dress she had order’d to be made, was such as Widows wear in their first Mourning, which, together with the most afflicted and penitential Countenance that ever was seen, was no small Alteration to her who us’d to seem all Gaiety.—To add to this, her Hair, which she was accustom’d to wear very loose, both when Fantomina and Celia, was now ty’d back so strait, and her Pinners coming so very forward, that there was none of it to be seen. In fine, her Habit and her Air were so much chang’d, that she was not more difficult to be known in the rude Country Girl, than she was now in the sorrowful Widow.
She knew that Beauplaisir came alone in his Chariot to the Bath, and in the Time of her being Servant in the House where he lodg’d, heard nothing of any Body that was to accompany him to London, and hop’d he wou’d return in the same Manner he had gone: She therefore hir’d Horses and a Man to attend her to an Inn about ten Miles on this side Bath, where having discharg’d them, she waited till the Chariot should come by: which when it did, and she saw that he was alone in it, she call’d to him that drove it to stop a Moment, and going to the Door saluted the Master with these Words:
The Distress’d and Wretched, Sir, (said she,) never fail to excite Compassion in a generous Mind; and I hope I am not deceiv’d in my Opinion that yours is such:—You have the Appearance of a Gentleman, and cannot, when you hear my Story, refuse that Assistance which is in your Power to give to an unhappy Woman, who without it, may be render’d the most miserable of all created Beings.
IT would not be very easy to represent the Surprise, so odd an Address created in the Mind of him to whom it was made.—She had not the Appearance of one who wanted Charity; and what other Favour she requir’d he cou’d not conceive: But telling her, she might command any Thing in his Power, gave her Encouragement to declare herself in this Manner:You may judge, (resumed she,) by the melancholy Garb I am in, that I have lately lost all that ought to be valuable to Womankind; but it is impossible for you to guess the Greatness of my Misfortune, unless you had known my Husband, who was Master of every Perfection to endear him to a Wife’s Affections.—But, notwithstanding, I look on myself as the most unhappy of my Sex in out-living him, I must so far obey the Dictates of my Discretion, as to take care of the little Fortune he left behind him, which being in the Hands of a Brother of his in London, will be all carry’d off to Holland, where he is going to settle; if I reach not the Town before he leaves it, I am undone for ever.—To which End I left Bristol, the Place where we liv’d, hoping to get a Place in the Stage at Bath, but they were all taken up before I came; and being, by a Hurt I got in a Fall, render’d incapable of travelling any long Journey on Horseback, I have no Way to go to London, and must be inevitably ruin’d in the Loss of all I have on Earth, without you have good Nature enough to admit me to take Part of your Chariot.
Here the feigned Widow ended her sorrowful Tale, which had been several Times interrupted by a Parenthesis of Sighs and Groans; and Beauplaisir, with a complaisant and tender Air, assur’d her of his Readiness to serve her in Things of much greater Consequence than what she desir’d of him; and told her, it would be an Impossibility of denying a Place in his Chariot to a Lady, who he could not behold without yielding one in his Heart. She answered the Compliments he made her but with Tears, which seem’d to stream in such abundance from her Eyes, that she could not keep her Handkerchief from her Face one Moment. Being come into the Chariot, Beauplaisir said a thousand handsome Things to perswade her from giving way to so violent a Grief, which, he told her, would not only be destructive to her Beauty, but likewise her Health. But all his Endeavours for Consolement appear’d ineffectual, and he began to think he should have but a dull Journey, in the Company of one who seem’d so obstinately devoted to the Memory of her dead Husband, that there was no getting a Word from her on any other Theme:—But bethinking himself of the celebrated Story of the Ephesian Matron, it came into his Head to make Tryal, she who seem’d equally susceptible of Sorrow, might not also be so too of Love; and having began a Discourse on almost every other Topick, and finding her still incapable of answering, resolv’d to put it to the Proof, if this would have no more Effect to rouze her sleeping Spirits:—With a gay Air, therefore, though accompany’d with the greatest Modesty and Respect, he turned the Conversation, as though without Design, on that Joy-giving Passion, and soon discover’d that was indeed the Subject she was best pleas’d to be entertained with; for on his giving her a Hint to begin upon, never any Tongue run more voluble than hers, on the prodigious Power it had to influence the Souls of those possess’d of it, to Actions even the most distant from their Intentions, Principles, or Humours.—From that she pass’d to a Description of the Happiness of mutual Affection;—the unspeakable Extasy of those who meet with equal Ardency; and represented it in Colours so lively, and disclos’d by the Gestures with which her Words were accompany’d, and the Accent of her Voice so true a Feeling of what she said, that Beauplaisir, without being as stupid, as he was really the contrary,