by Daniel Defoe
never be; that's impossible, I'm sure."
"No, no," says I, "'tis far from impossible, for I tell you 'tis so."And by this time, being a little recovered, I told her what discourse myhusband and the captain had had together, and what the captain had said.This put Amy into such a hurry that she cried, she raved, she swore andcursed like a mad thing; then she upbraided me that I would not let herkill the girl when she would have done it, and that it was all my owndoing, and the like. Well, however, I was not for killing the girl yet.I could not bear the thoughts of that neither.
We spent half-an-hour in these extravagances, and brought nothing out ofthem neither; for indeed we could do nothing or say nothing that was tothe purpose; for if anything was to come out-of-the-way, there was nohindering it, or help for it; so after thus giving a vent to myself bycrying, I began to reflect how I had left my spouse below, and what Ihad pretended to come up for; so I changed my gown that I pretended thecandle fell upon, and put on another, and went down.
When I had been down a good while, and found my spouse did not fall intothe story again, as I expected, I took heart, and called for it. "Mydear," said I, "the fall of the candle put you out of your history,won't you go on with it?" "What history?" says he. "Why," says I, "aboutthe captain." "Oh," says he, "I had done with it. I know no more thanthat the captain told a broken piece of news that he had heard byhalves, and told more by halves than he heard it,--namely, of your beingwith child, and that you could not go the voyage."
I perceived my husband entered not into the thing at all, but took itfor a story, which, being told two or three times over, was puzzled, andcome to nothing, and that all that was meant by it was what he knew, orthought he knew already--viz., that I was with child, which he wishedmight be true.
His ignorance was a cordial to my soul, and I cursed them in my thoughtsthat should ever undeceive him; and as I saw him willing to have thestory end there, as not worth being farther mentioned, I closed it too,and said I supposed the captain had it from his wife; she might havefound somebody else to make her remarks upon; and so it passed off withmy husband well enough, and I was still safe there, where I thoughtmyself in most danger. But I had two uneasinesses still; the first waslest the captain and my spouse should meet again, and enter into fartherdiscourse about it; and the second was lest the busy impertinent girlshould come again, and when she came, how to prevent her seeing Amy,which was an article as material as any of the rest; for seeing Amywould have been as fatal to me as her knowing all the rest.
As to the first of these, I knew the captain could not stay in townabove a week, but that his ship being already full of goods, and fallendown the river, he must soon follow, so I contrived to carry my husbandsomewhere out of town for a few days, that they might be sure not tomeet.
My greatest concern was where we should go. At last I fixed upon NorthHall; not, I said, that I would drink the waters, but that I thought theair was good, and might be for my advantage. He, who did everything uponthe foundation of obliging me, readily came into it, and the coach wasappointed to be ready the next morning; but as we were settling matters,he put in an ugly word that thwarted all my design, and that was, thathe had rather I would stay till afternoon, for that he should speak tothe captain the next morning if he could, to give him some letters,which he could do, and be back again about twelve o'clock.
I said, "Ay, by all means." But it was but a cheat on him, and my voiceand my heart differed; for I resolved, if possible, he should not comenear the captain, nor see him, whatever came of it.
In the evening, therefore, a little before we went to bed, I pretendedto have altered my mind, and that I would not go to North Hall, but Ihad a mind to go another way, but I told him I was afraid his businesswould not permit him. He wanted to know where it was. I told him,smiling, I would not tell him, lest it should oblige him to hinder hisbusiness. He answered with the same temper, but with infinitely moresincerity, that he had no business of so much consequence as to hinderhim going with me anywhere that I had a mind to go. "Yes," says I, "youwant to speak with the captain before he goes away." "Why, that's true,"says he, "so I do," and paused awhile; and then added, "but I'll write anote to a man that does business for me to go to him; 'tis only to getsome bills of loading signed, and he can do it." When I saw I had gainedmy point, I seemed to hang back a little. "My dear," says I, "don'thinder an hour's business for me; I can put it off for a week or tworather than you shall do yourself any prejudice." "No, no," says he,"you shall not put it off an hour for me, for I can do my business byproxy with anybody but my wife." And then he took me in his arms andkissed me. How did my blood flush up into my face when I reflected howsincerely, how affectionately, this good-humoured gentleman embraced themost cursed piece of hypocrisy that ever came into the arms of an honestman! His was all tenderness, all kindness, and the utmost sincerity;mine all grimace and deceit;--a piece of mere manage and framed conductto conceal a past life of wickedness, and prevent his discovering thathe had in his arms a she-devil, whose whole conversation for twenty-fiveyears had been black as hell, a complication of crime, and for which,had he been let into it, he must have abhorred me and the very mentionof my name. But there was no help for me in it; all I had to satisfymyself was that it was my business to be what I was, and conceal what Ihad been; that all the satisfaction I could make him was to livevirtuously for the time to come, not being able to retrieve what hadbeen in time past; and this I resolved upon, though, had the greattemptation offered, as it did afterwards, I had reason to question mystability. But of that hereafter.
After my husband had kindly thus given up his measures to mine, weresolved to set out in the morning early. I told him that my project, ifhe liked it, was to go to Tunbridge, and he, being entirely passive inthe thing, agreed to it with the greatest willingness; but said if I hadnot named Tunbridge, he would have named Newmarket, there being a greatcourt there, and abundance of fine things to be seen. I offered himanother piece of hypocrisy here, for I pretended to be willing to gothither, as the place of his choice, but indeed I would not have gonefor a thousand pounds; for the court being there at that time, I durstnot run the hazard of being known at a place where there were so manyeyes that had seen me before. So that, after some time, I told myhusband that I thought Newmarket was so full of people at that time,that we should get no accommodation; that seeing the court and the crowdwas no entertainment at all to me, unless as it might be so to him, thatif he thought fit, we would rather put it off to another time; and thatif, when we went to Holland, we should go by Harwich, we might take around by Newmarket and Bury, and so come down to Ipswich, and go fromthence to the seaside. He was easily put off from this, as he was fromanything else that I did not approve; and so, with all imaginablefacility, he appointed to be ready early in the morning to go with mefor Tunbridge.
I had a double design in this, viz., first, to get away my spouse fromseeing the captain any more; and secondly, to be out of the way myself,in case this impertinent girl, who was now my plague, should offer tocome again, as my friend the Quaker believed she would, and as indeedhappened within two or three days afterwards.
Having thus secured my going away the next day, I had nothing to do butto furnish my faithful agent the Quaker with some instructions what tosay to this tormentor (for such she proved afterwards), and how tomanage her, if she made any more visits than ordinary.
I had a great mind to leave Amy behind too, as an assistant, because sheunderstood so perfectly well what to advise upon any emergence; and Amyimportuned me to do so. But I know not what secret impulse prevailedover my thoughts against it; I could not do it for fear the wicked jadeshould make her away, which my very soul abhorred the thoughts of;which, however, Amy found means to bring to pass afterwards, as I may intime relate more particularly.
It is true I wanted as much to be delivered from her as ever a sick mandid from a third-day ague; and had she dropped into the grave by anyfair way, as I may call it, I mean, had she died by any ordinarydistemper, I should have shed b
ut very few tears for her. But I was notarrived to such a pitch of obstinate wickedness as to commit murder,especially such as to murder my own child, or so much as to harbour athought so barbarous in my mind. But, as I said, Amy effected allafterwards without my knowledge, for which I gave her my hearty curse,though I could do little more; for to have fallen upon Amy had been tohave murdered myself. But this tragedy requires a longer story than Ihave room for here. I return to my journey.
My dear friend the Quaker was kind, and yet honest, and would doanything that was just and upright to serve me, but nothing wicked ordishonourable. That she might be able to say boldly to the creature, ifshe came, she did not know where I was gone, she desired I would not lether know; and to make her ignorance the more