by Daniel Defoe
handsome, well-shaped woman, and genteel enough. The coachman andservants were particularly ordered to show her the same respect as theywould to me, and to call her Madam Collins, if they were asked anyquestions about her.
When the gentleman saw what a figure she made it added to the formersurprise, and he entertained her in the most respectful manner possible,congratulated her advancement in fortune, and particularly rejoiced thatit should fall to the poor child's lot to be so provided for, contraryto all expectation.
Well, Amy talked big, but very free and familiar, told them she had nopride in her good fortune (and that was true enough, for, to give Amyher due, she was far from it, and was as good-humoured a creature asever lived); that she was the same as ever; and that she always lovedthis boy, and was resolved to do something extraordinary for him.
Then she pulled out her money, and paid him down a hundred and twentypounds, which, she said, she paid him that he might be sure he shouldbe no loser by taking him home again, and that she would come and seehim again, and talk farther about things with him, so that all might besettled for him, in such a manner as accidents, such as mortality, oranything else, should make no alteration to the child's prejudice.
At this meeting the uncle brought his wife out, a good, motherly,comely, grave woman, who spoke very tenderly of the youth, and, as itappeared, had been very good to him, though she had several children ofher own. After a long discourse, she put in a word of her own. "Madam,"says she, "I am heartily glad of the good intentions you have for thispoor orphan, and I rejoice sincerely in it for his sake; but, madam, youknow, I suppose, that there are two sisters alive too; may we not speaka word for them? Poor girls," says she, "they have not been so kindlyused as he has, and are turned out to the wide world."
"Where are they, madam?" says Amy.
"Poor creatures," says the gentlewoman, "they are out at service, nobodyknows where but themselves; their case is very hard."
"Well, madam," says Amy, "though if I could find them I would assistthem, yet my concern is for my boy, as I call him, and I will put himinto a condition to take care of his sisters."
"But, madam," says the good, compassionate creature, "he may not be socharitable perhaps by his own inclination, for brothers are notfathers, and they have been cruelly used already, poor girls; we haveoften relieved them, both with victuals and clothes too, even while theywere pretended to be kept by their barbarous aunt."
"Well, madam," says Amy, "what can I do for them? They are gone, itseems, and cannot be heard of. When I see them 'tis time enough."
She pressed Amy then to oblige their brother, out of the plentifulfortune he was like to have, to do something for his sisters when heshould be able.
Amy spoke coldly of that still, but said she would consider of it; andso they parted for that time. They had several meetings after this, forAmy went to see her adopted son, and ordered his schooling, clothes, andother things, but enjoined them not to tell the young man anything, butthat they thought the trade he was at too hard for him, and they wouldkeep him at home a little longer, and give him some schooling to fit himfor other business; and Amy appeared to him as she did before, only asone that had known his mother and had some kindness for him.
Thus this matter passed on for near a twelvemonth, when it happened thatone of my maid-servants having asked Amy leave (for Amy was mistress ofthe servants, and took and put out such as she pleased)--I say, havingasked leave to go into the city to see her friends, came home cryingbitterly, and in a most grievous agony she was, and continued soseveral days till Amy, perceiving the excess, and that the maid wouldcertainly cry herself sick, she took an opportunity with her andexamined her about it.
The maid told her a long story, that she had been to see her brother,the only brother she had in the world, and that she knew he was put outapprentice to a ----; but there had come a lady in a coach to his uncle----, who had brought him up, and made him take him home again; and sothe wench run on with the whole story just as 'tis told above, till shecame to that part that belonged to herself. "And there," says she, "Ihad not let them know where I lived, and the lady would have taken me,and, they say, would have provided for me too, as she has done for mybrother; but nobody could tell where to find me, and so I have lost itall, and all the hopes of being anything but a poor servant all mydays;" and then the girl fell a-crying again.
Amy said, "What's all this story? Who could this lady be? It must besome trick, sure." "No," she said, "it was not a trick, for she had madethem take her brother home from apprentice, and bought him new clothes,and put him to have more learning; and the gentlewoman said she wouldmake him her heir."
"Her heir!" says Amy. "What does that amount to? It may be she hadnothing to leave him; she might make anybody her heir."
"No, no,"' says the girl; "she came in a fine coach and horses, and Idon't know how many footmen to attend her, and brought a great bag ofgold and gave it to my uncle ----, he that brought up my brother, to buyhim clothes and to pay for his schooling and board."
"He that brought up your brother?" says Amy. "Why, did not he bring youup too as well as your brother? Pray who brought you up, then?"
Here the poor girl told a melancholy story, how an aunt had brought upher and her sister, and how barbarously she had used them, as we haveheard.
By this time Amy had her head full enough, and her heart too, and didnot know how to hold it, or what to do, for she was satisfied that thiswas no other than my own daughter, for she told her all the history ofher father and mother, and how she was carried by their maid to heraunt's door, just as is related in the beginning of my story.
Amy did not tell me this story for a great while, nor did she well knowwhat course to take in it; but as she had authority to manage everythingin the family, she took occasion some time after, without letting meknow anything of it, to find some fault with the maid and turn her away.
Her reasons were good, though at first I was not pleased when I heard ofit, but I was convinced afterwards that she was in the right, for if shehad told me of it I should have been in great perplexity between thedifficulty of concealing myself from my own child and the inconvenienceof having my way of living be known among my first husband's relations,and even to my husband himself; for as to his being dead at Paris, Amy,seeing me resolved against marrying any more, had told me that she hadformed that story only to make me easy when I was in Holland if anythingshould offer to my liking.
However, I was too tender a mother still, notwithstanding what I haddone, to let this poor girl go about the world drudging, as it were, forbread, and slaving at the fire and in the kitchen as a cook-maid;besides, it came into my head that she might perhaps marry some poordevil of a footman, or a coachman, or some such thing, and be undonethat way, or, which was worse, be drawn in to lie with some of thatcoarse, cursed kind, and be with child, and be utterly ruined that way;and in the midst of all my prosperity this gave me great uneasiness.
As to sending Amy to her, there was no doing that now, for, as she hadbeen servant in the house, she knew Amy as well as Amy knew me; and nodoubt, though I was much out of her sight, yet she might have had thecuriosity to have peeped at me, and seen me enough to know me again if Ihad discovered myself to her; so that, in short, there was nothing to bedone that way.
However, Amy, a diligent indefatigable creature, found out anotherwoman, and gave her her errand, and sent her to the honest man's housein Spitalfields, whither she supposed the girl would go after she wasout of her place; and bade her talk with her, and tell her at a distancethat as something had been done for her brother, so something would bedone for her too; and, that she should not be discouraged, she carriedher L20 to buy her clothes, and bid her not go to service any more, butthink of other things; that she should take a lodging in some goodfamily, and that she should soon hear farther.
The girl was overjoyed with this news, you may be sure, and at first alittle too much elevated with it, and dressed herself very handsomelyindeed, and as soon as she had done so
came and paid a visit to MadamAmy, to let her see how fine she was. Amy congratulated her, and wishedit might be all as she expected, but admonished her not to be elevatedwith it too much; told her humility was the best ornament of agentlewoman, and a great deal of good advice she gave her, butdiscovered nothing.
All this was acted in the first years of my setting up my new figurehere in town, and while the masks and balls were in agitation; and Amycarried on the affair of setting out my son into the world, which wewere assisted in by the sage advice of my faithful counsellor, SirRobert Clayton, who procured us a master for him, by whom he wasafterwards sent abroad to Italy, as you shall hear in its place; and Amymanaged my daughter too very well, though by a third hand.
My amour with my Lord ---- began now to draw to an end, and