by Daniel Defoe
very much. He told me that it wasa critical point indeed for me to manage, and he did not see which wayI should get out of it; but he would consider it, and let me know nexttime we met, what resolution he was come to about it; and in themeantime desired I would not give my consent to his brother, nor yetgive him a flat denial, but that I would hold him in suspense a while.
I seemed to start at his saying I should not give him my consent. Itold him he knew very well I had no consent to give; that he hadengaged himself to marry me, and that my consent was the same timeengaged to him; that he had all along told me I was his wife, and Ilooked upon myself as effectually so as if the ceremony had passed; andthat it was from his own mouth that I did so, he having all alongpersuaded me to call myself his wife.
'Well, my dear,' says he, 'don't be concerned at that now; if I am notyour husband, I'll be as good as a husband to you; and do not let thosethings trouble you now, but let me look a little farther into thisaffair, and I shall be able to say more next time we meet.'
He pacified me as well as he could with this, but I found he was verythoughtful, and that though he was very kind to me and kissed me athousand times, and more I believe, and gave me money too, yet heoffered no more all the while we were together, which was above twohours, and which I much wondered at indeed at that time, consideringhow it used to be, and what opportunity we had.
His brother did not come from London for five or six days, and it wastwo days more before he got an opportunity to talk with him; but thengetting him by himself he began to talk very close to him about it, andthe same evening got an opportunity (for we had a long conferencetogether) to repeat all their discourse to me, which, as near as I canremember, was to the purpose following. He told him he heard strangenews of him since he went, viz. that he made love to Mrs. Betty.'Well, says his brother a little angrily, 'and so I do. And what then?What has anybody to do with that?' 'Nay,' says his brother, 'don't beangry, Robin; I don't pretend to have anything to do with it; nor do Ipretend to be angry with you about it. But I find they do concernthemselves about it, and that they have used the poor girl ill aboutit, which I should take as done to myself.' 'Whom do you mean byTHEY?' says Robin. 'I mean my mother and the girls,' says the elderbrother. 'But hark ye,' says his brother, 'are you in earnest? Do youreally love this girl? You may be free with me, you know.' 'Why,then,' says Robin, 'I will be free with you; I do love her above allthe women in the world, and I will have her, let them say and do whatthey will. I believe the girl will not deny me.'
It struck me to the heart when he told me this, for though it was mostrational to think I would not deny him, yet I knew in my own conscienceI must deny him, and I saw my ruin in my being obliged to do so; but Iknew it was my business to talk otherwise then, so I interrupted him inhis story thus.
'Ay!' said I, 'does he think I cannot deny him? But he shall find Ican deny him, for all that.'
'Well, my dear,' says he, 'but let me give you the whole story as itwent on between us, and then say what you will.'
Then he went on and told me that he replied thus: 'But, brother, youknow she has nothing, and you may have several ladies with goodfortunes.'
''Tis no matter for that,' said Robin; 'I love the girl, and I willnever please my pocket in marrying, and not please my fancy.' 'And so,my dear,' adds he, 'there is no opposing him.'
'Yes, yes,' says I, 'you shall see I can oppose him; I have learnt tosay No, now though I had not learnt it before; if the best lord in theland offered me marriage now, I could very cheerfully say No to him.'
'Well, but, my dear,' says he, 'what can you say to him? You know, asyou said when we talked of it before, he well ask you many questionsabout it, and all the house will wonder what the meaning of it shouldbe.'
'Why,' says I, smiling, 'I can stop all their mouths at one clap bytelling him, and them too, that I am married already to his elderbrother.'
He smiled a little too at the word, but I could see it startled him,and he could not hide the disorder it put him into. However, hereturned, 'Why, though that may be true in some sense, yet I supposeyou are but in jest when you talk of giving such an answer as that; itmay not be convenient on many accounts.'
'No, no,' says I pleasantly, 'I am not so fond of letting the secretcome out without your consent.'
'But what, then, can you say to him, or to them,' says he, 'when theyfind you positive against a match which would be apparently so much toyour advantage?'
'Why,' says I, 'should I be at a loss? First of all, I am not obligedto give me any reason at all; on the other hand, I may tell them I ammarried already, and stop there, and that will be a full stop too tohim, for he can have no reason to ask one question after it.'
'Ay,' says he; 'but the whole house will tease you about that, even tofather and mother, and if you deny them positively, they will bedisobliged at you, and suspicious besides.'
'Why,' says I, 'what can I do? What would you have me do? I was instraight enough before, and as I told you, I was in perplexity before,and acquainted you with the circumstances, that I might have youradvice.'
'My dear,' says he, 'I have been considering very much upon it, you maybe sure, and though it is a piece of advice that has a great manymortifications in it to me, and may at first seem strange to you, yet,all things considered, I see no better way for you than to let him goon; and if you find him hearty and in earnest, marry him.'
I gave him a look full of horror at those words, and, turning pale asdeath, was at the very point of sinking down out of the chair I sat in;when, giving a start, 'My dear,' says he aloud, 'what's the matter withyou? Where are you a-going?' and a great many such things; and withjogging and called to me, fetched me a little to myself, though it wasa good while before I fully recovered my senses, and was not able tospeak for several minutes more.
When I was fully recovered he began again. 'My dear,' says he, 'whatmade you so surprised at what I said? I would have you considerseriously of it? You may see plainly how the family stand in thiscase, and they would be stark mad if it was my case, as it is mybrother's; and for aught I see, it would be my ruin and yours too.'
'Ay!' says I, still speaking angrily; 'are all your protestations andvows to be shaken by the dislike of the family? Did I not alwaysobject that to you, and you made light thing of it, as what you wereabove, and would value; and is it come to this now?' said I. 'Is thisyour faith and honour, your love, and the solidity of your promises?'
He continued perfectly calm, notwithstanding all my reproaches, and Iwas not sparing of them at all; but he replied at last, 'My dear, Ihave not broken one promise with you yet; I did tell you I would marryyou when I was come to my estate; but you see my father is a hale,healthy man, and may live these thirty years still, and not be olderthan several are round us in town; and you never proposed my marryingyou sooner, because you knew it might be my ruin; and as to all therest, I have not failed you in anything, you have wanted for nothing.'
I could not deny a word of this, and had nothing to say to it ingeneral. 'But why, then,' says I, 'can you persuade me to such ahorrid step as leaving you, since you have not left me? Will you allowno affection, no love on my side, where there has been so much on yourside? Have I made you no returns? Have I given no testimony of mysincerity and of my passion? Are the sacrifices I have made of honourand modesty to you no proof of my being tied to you in bonds too strongto be broken?'
'But here, my dear,' says he, 'you may come into a safe station, andappear with honour and with splendour at once, and the remembrance ofwhat we have done may be wrapt up in an eternal silence, as if it hadnever happened; you shall always have my respect, and my sincereaffection, only then it shall be honest, and perfectly just to mybrother; you shall be my dear sister, as now you are my dear----' andthere he stopped.
'Your dear whore,' says I, 'you would have said if you had gone on, andyou might as well have said it; but I understand you. However, Idesire you to remember the long discourses you have had with me, andthe many h
ours' pains you have taken to persuade me to believe myselfan honest woman; that I was your wife intentionally, though not in theeyes of the world, and that it was as effectual a marriage that hadpassed between us as if we had been publicly wedded by the parson ofthe parish. You know and cannot but remember that these have been yourown words to me.'
I found this was a little too close upon him, but I made it up in whatfollows. He stood stock-still for a while and said nothing, and I wenton thus: 'You cannot,' says I, 'without the highest