When Jones had read this letter, they both stood silent during a
minute, looking at each other; at last he began thus: "I cannot
express, madam, how much I am shocked at what I have read; yet let me
beg you, in one particular, to take the writer's advice. Consider the
reputation of your daughter."----"It is gone, it is lost, Mr Jones,"
cryed she, "as well as her innocence. She received the letter in a
room full of company, and immediately swooning away upon opening it,
the contents were known to every one present. But the loss of her
reputation, bad as it is, is not the worst; I shall lose my child; she
hath attempted twice to destroy herself already; and though she hath
been hitherto prevented, vows she will not outlive it; nor could I
myself outlive any accident of that nature.--What then will become of
my little Betsy, a helpless infant orphan? and the poor little wretch
will, I believe, break her heart at the miseries with which she sees
her sister and myself distracted, while she is ignorant of the cause.
O 'tis the most sensible, and best-natured little thing! The
barbarous, cruel----hath destroyed us all. O my poor children! Is this
the reward of all my cares? Is this the fruit of all my prospects?
Have I so chearfully undergone all the labours and duties of a mother?
Have I been so tender of their infancy, so careful of their education?
Have I been toiling so many years, denying myself even the
conveniences of life, to provide some little sustenance for them, to
lose one or both in such a manner?" "Indeed, madam," said Jones, with
tears in his eyes, "I pity you from my soul."--"O! Mr Jones," answered
she, "even you, though I know the goodness of your heart, can have no
idea of what I feel. The best, the kindest, the most dutiful of
children! O my poor Nancy, the darling of my soul! the delight of my
eyes! the pride of my heart! too much, indeed, my pride; for to those
foolish, ambitious hopes, arising from her beauty, I owe her ruin.
Alas! I saw with pleasure the liking which this young man had for her.
I thought it an honourable affection; and flattered my foolish vanity
with the thoughts of seeing her married to one so much her superior.
And a thousand times in my presence, nay, often in yours, he hath
endeavoured to soothe and encourage these hopes by the most generous
expressions of disinterested love, which he hath always directed to my
poor girl, and which I, as well as she, believed to be real. Could I
have believed that these were only snares laid to betray the innocence
of my child, and for the ruin of us all?"--At these words little Betsy
came running into the room, crying, "Dear mamma, for heaven's sake
come to my sister; for she is in another fit, and my cousin can't hold
her." Mrs Miller immediately obeyed the summons; but first ordered
Betsy to stay with Mr Jones, and begged him to entertain her a few
minutes, saying, in the most pathetic voice, "Good heaven! let me
preserve one of my children at least."