Moll Flanders

D >> Daniel Defoe >> Moll Flanders

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28

When he had given me my errands, he told them a long story
of a visit he was going to make to a family they all knew, and
where was to be such-and-such gentlemen, and how merry
they were to be, and very formally asks his sisters to go with
him, and they as formally excused themselves, because of
company that they had notice was to come and visit them that
afternoon; which, by the way, he had contrived on purpose.

He had scarce done speaking to them, and giving me my
errand, but his man came up to tell him that Sir W---- H----'s
coach stopped at the door; so he runs down, and comes up
again immediately. 'Alas!' says he aloud, 'there's all my
mirth spoiled at once; sir W---- has sent his coach for me,
and desires to speak with me upon some earnest business.'
It seems this Sir W--- was a gentleman who lived about three
miles out of town, to whom he had spoken on purpose the day
before, to lend him his chariot for a particular occasion, and
had appointed it to call for him, as it did, about three o'clock.

Immediately he calls for his best wig, hat, and sword, and
ordering his man to go to the other place to make his excuse--
that was to say, he made an excuse to send his man away--he
prepares to go into the coach. As he was going, he stopped a
while, and speaks mighty earnestly to me about his business,
and finds an opportunity to say very softly to me, 'Come away,
my dear, as soon as ever you can.' I said nothing, but made a
curtsy, as if I had done so to what he said in public. In about
a quarter of an hour I went out too; I had no dress other than
before, except that I had a hood, a mask, a fan, and a pair of
gloves in my pocket; so that there was not the least suspicion
in the house. He waited for me in the coach in a back-lane,
which he knew I must pass by, and had directed the coachman
whither to go, which was to a certain place, called Mile End,
where lived a confidant of his, where we went in, and where
was all the convenience in the world to be as wicked as we
pleased.

When we were together he began to talk very gravely to me,
and to tell me he did not bring me there to betray me; that his
passion for me would not suffer him to abuse me; that he
resolved to marry me as soon as he came to his estate; that in
the meantime, if I would grant his request, he would maintain
me very honourably; and made me a thousand protestations
of his sincerity and of his affection to me; and that he would
never abandon me, and as I may say, made a thousand more
preambles than he need to have done.

However, as he pressed me to speak, I told him I had no
reason to question the sincerity of his love to me after so many
protestations, but--and there I stopped, as if I left him to
guess the rest. 'But what, my dear?' says he. 'I guess what
you mean: what if you should be with child? Is not that it?
Why, then,' says he, 'I'll take care of you and provide for you,
and the child too; and that you may see I am not in jest,' says
he, 'here's an earnest for you,' and with that he pulls out a silk
purse, with an hundred guineas in it, and gave it me. 'And I'll
give you such another,' says he, 'every year till I marry you.'

My colour came and went, at the sight of the purse and with
the fire of his proposal together, so that I could not say a word,
and he easily perceived it; so putting the purse into my bosom,
I made no more resistance to him, but let him do just what he
pleased, and as often as he pleased; and thus I finished my
own destruction at once, for from this day, being forsaken of
my virtue and my modesty, I had nothing of value left to
recommend me, either to God's blessing or man's assistance.

But things did not end here. I went back to the town, did the
business he publicly directed me to, and was at home before
anybody thought me long. As for my gentleman, he stayed
out, as he told me he would, till late at night, and there was
not the least suspicion in the family either on his account or
on mine.

We had, after this, frequent opportunities to repeat our crime
--chiefly by his contrivance--especially at home, when his
mother and the young ladies went abroad a-visiting, which he
watched so narrowly as never to miss; knowing always
beforehand when they went out, and then failed not to catch
me all alone, and securely enough; so that we took our fill of
our wicked pleasure for near half a year; and yet, which was
the most to my satisfaction, I was not with child.

But before this half-year was expired, his younger brother, of
whom I have made some mention in the beginning of the story,
falls to work with me; and he, finding me along in the garden
one evening, begins a story of the same kind to me, made
good honest professions of being in love with me, and in short,
proposes fairly and honourably to marry me, and that before
he made any other offer to me at all.

I was now confounded, and driven to such an extremity as
the like was never known; at least not to me. I resisted the
proposal with obstinacy; and now I began to arm myself with
arguments. I laid before him the inequality of the match; the
treatment I should meet with in the family; the ingratitude it
would be to his good father and mother, who had taken me
into their house upon such generous principles, and when I
was in such a low condition; and, in short, I said everything
to dissuade him from his design that I could imagine, except
telling him the truth, which would indeed have put an end to
It all, but that I durst not think of mentioning.

But here happened a circumstance that I did not expect
indeed, which put me to my shifts; for this young gentleman,
as he was plain and honest, so he pretended to nothing with
me but what was so too; and, knowing his own innocence, he
was not so careful to make his having a kindness for Mrs. Betty
a secret I the house, as his brother was. And though he did
not let them know that he had talked to me about it, yet he
said enough to let his sisters perceive he loved me, and his
mother saw it too, which, though they took no notice of it to
me, yet they did to him, an immediately I found their carriage
to me altered, more than ever before.

I saw the cloud, though I did not foresee the storm. It was
easy, I say, to see that their carriage to me was altered, and
that it grew worse and worse every day; till at last I got
information among the servants that I should, in a very little
while, be desired to remove.

I was not alarmed at the news, having a full satisfaction that
I should be otherwise provided for; and especially considering
that I had reason every day to expect I should be with child,
and that then I should be obliged to remove without any
pretences for it.

After some time the younger gentleman took an opportunity
to tell me that the kindness he had for me had got vent in the
family. He did not charge me with it, he said, for he know
well enough which way it came out. He told me his plain way
of talking had been the occasion of it, for that he did not make
his respect for me so much a secret as he might have done,
and the reason was, that he was at a point, that if I would
consent to have him, he would tell them all openly that he
loved me, and that he intended to marry me; that it was true
his father and mother might resent it, and be unkind, but that
he was now in a way to live, being bred to the law, and he did
not fear maintaining me agreeable to what I should expect;
and that, in short, as he believed I would not be ashamed of
him, so he was resolved not to be ashamed of me, and that he
scorned to be afraid to own me now, whom he resolved to
own after I was his wife, and therefore I had nothing to do but
to give him my hand, and he would answer for all the rest.

I was now in a dreadful condition indeed, and now I repented
heartily my easiness with the eldest brother; not from any
reflection of conscience, but from a view of the happiness I
might have enjoyed, and had now made impossible; for though
I had no great scruples of conscience, as I have said, to struggle
with, yet I could not think of being a whore to one brother and
a wife to the other. But then it came into my thoughts that the
first brother had promised to made me his wife when he came
to his estate; but I presently remembered what I had often
thought of, that he had never spoken a word of having me for
a wife after he had conquered me for a mistress; and indeed,
till now, though I said I thought of it often, yet it gave me no
disturbance at all, for as he did not seem in the least to lessen
his affection to me, so neither did he lessen his bounty, though
he had the discretion himself to desire me not to lay out a
penny of what he gave me in clothes, or to make the least show
extraordinary, because it would necessarily give jealousy in
the family, since everybody know I could come at such things
no manner of ordinary way, but by some private friendship,
which they would presently have suspected.

But I was now in a great strait, and knew not what to
do. The main difficulty was this: the younger brother not
only laid close siege to me, but suffered it to be seen. He
would come into his sister's room, and his mother's room,
and sit down, and talk a thousand kind things of me, and to
me, even before their faces, and when they were all there.
This grew so public that the whole house talked of it, and his
mother reproved him for it, and their carriage to me appeared
quite altered. In short, his mother had let fall some speeches,
as if she intended to put me out of the family; that is, in
English, to turn me out of doors. Now I was sure this could
not be a secret to his brother, only that he might not think, as
indeed nobody else yet did, that the youngest brother had made
any proposal to me about it; but as I easily could see that it
would go farther, so I saw likewise there was an absolute
necessity to speak of it to him, or that he would speak of it to
me, and which to do first I knew not; that is, whether I should
break it to him or let it alone till he should break it to me.

Upon serious consideration, for indeed now I began to consider
things very seriously, and never till now; I say, upon serious
consideration, I resolved to tell him of it first; and it was not
long before I had an opportunity, for the very next day his
brother went to London upon some business, and the family
being out a-visiting, just as it had happened before, and as
indeed was often the case, he came according to his custom,
to spend an hour or two with Mrs. Betty.

When he came had had sat down a while, he easily perceived
there was an alteration in my countenance, that I was not so
free and pleasant with him as I used to be, and particularly,
that I had been a-crying; he was not long before he took notice
of it, and asked me in very kind terms what was the matter,
and if anything troubled me. I would have put it off if I could,
but it was not to be concealed; so after suffering many
importunities to draw that out of me which I longed as much
as possible to disclose, I told him that it was true something
did trouble me, and something of such a nature that I could
not conceal from him, and yet that I could not tell how to tell
him of it neither; that it was a thing that not only surprised me,
but greatly perplexed me, and that I knew not what course to
take, unless he would direct me. He told me with great
tenderness, that let it be what it would, I should not let it
trouble me, for he would protect me from all the world.

I then began at a distance, and told him I was afraid the ladies
had got some secret information of our correspondence; for
that it was easy to see that their conduct was very much
changed towards me for a great while, and that now it was
come to that pass that they frequently found fault with me,
and sometimes fell quite out with me, though I never gave
them the least occasion; that whereas I used always to lie
with the eldest sister, I was lately put to lie by myself, or with
one of the maids; and that I had overheard them several times
talking very unkindly about me; but that which confirmed it
all was, that one of the servants had told me that she had heard
I was to be turned out, and that it was not safe for the family
that I should be any longer in the house.

He smiled when he herd all this, and I asked him how he
could make so light of it, when he must needs know that if
there was any discovery I was undone for ever, and that even
it would hurt him, though not ruin him as it would me. I
upbraided him, that he was like all the rest of the sex, that,
when they had the character and honour of a woman at their
mercy, oftentimes made it their jest, and at least looked upon
it as a trifle, and counted the ruin of those they had had their
will of as a thing of no value.

He saw me warm and serious, and he changed his style
immediately; he told me he was sorry I should have such a
thought of him; that he had never given me the least occasion
for it, but had been as tender of my reputation as he could be
of his own; that he was sure our correspondence had been
managed with so much address, that not one creature in the
family had so much as a suspicion of it; that if he smiled when
I told him my thoughts, it was at the assurance he lately
received, that our understanding one another was not so much
as known or guessed at; and that when he had told me how
much reason he had to be easy, I should smile as he did, for
he was very certain it would give me a full satisfaction.

'This is a mystery I cannot understand,' says I, 'or how it
should be to my satisfaction that I am to be turned out of
doors; for if our correspondence is not discovered, I know
not what else I have done to change the countenances of the
whole family to me, or to have them treat me as they do now,
who formerly used me with so much tenderness, as if I had
been one of their own children.'

'Why, look you, child,' says he, 'that they are uneasy about
you, that is true; but that they have the least suspicion of the
case as it is, and as it respects you and I, is so far from being
true, that they suspect my brother Robin; and, in short, they
are fully persuaded he makes love to you; nay, the fool has
put it into their heads too himself, for he is continually bantering
them about it, and making a jest of himself. I confess I think
he is wrong to do so, because he cannot but see it vexes them,
and makes them unkind to you; but 'tis a satisfaction to me,
because of the assurance it gives me, that they do not suspect
me in the least, and I hope this will be to your satisfaction too.'

'So it is,' says I, 'one way; but this does not reach my case at
all, nor is this the chief thing that troubles me, though I have
been concerned about that too.' 'What is it, then?' says he.
With which I fell to tears, and could say nothing to him at all.
He strove to pacify me all he could, but began at last to be
very pressing upon me to tell what it was. At last I answered
that I thought I ought to tell him too, and that he had some
right to know it; besides, that I wanted his direction in the case,
for I was in such perplexity that I knew not what course to take,
and then I related the whole affair to him. I told him how
imprudently his brother had managed himself, in making
himself so public; for that if he had kept it a secret, as such a
thing out to have been, I could but have denied him positively,
without giving any reason for it, and he would in time have
ceased his solicitations; but that he had the vanity, first, to
depend upon it that I would not deny him, and then had taken
the freedom to tell his resolution of having me to the whole house.

I told him how far I had resisted him, and told him how sincere
and honourable his offers were. 'But,' says I, 'my case will
be doubly hard; for as they carry it ill to me now, because he
desires to have me, they'll carry it worse when they shall find
I have denied him; and they will presently say, there's something
else in it, and then out it comes that I am married already to
somebody else, or that I would never refuse a match so much
above me as this was.'

This discourse surprised him indeed very much. He told me
that it was a critical point indeed for me to manage, and he
did not see which way I should get out of it; but he would
consider it, and let me know next time we met, what resolution
he was come to about it; and in the meantime desired I would
not give my consent to his brother, nor yet give 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. I told him he knew very well I had no consent to
give; that he had engaged himself to marry me, and that my
consent was the same time engaged to him; that he had all
along told me I was his wife, and I looked upon myself as
effectually so as if the ceremony had passed; and that it was
from his own mouth that I did so, he having all along persuaded
me to call myself his wife.

'Well, my dear,' says he, 'don't be concerned at that now;
if I am not your husband, I'll be as good as a husband to you;
and do not let those things trouble you now, but let me look
a little farther into this affair, 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 very thoughtful, and that though he was very kind to me
and kissed me a thousand times, and more I believe, and gave
me money too, yet he offered no more all the while we were
together, which was above two hours, and which I much
wondered at indeed at that time, considering how it used to be,
and what opportunity we had.

His brother did not come from London for five or six days,
and it was two days more before he got an opportunity to talk
with him; but then getting him by himself he began to talk
very close to him about it, and the same evening got an
opportunity (for we had a long conference together) to repeat
all their discourse to me, which, as near as I can remember,
was to the purpose following. He told him he heard strange
news 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 be angry, Robin; I don't pretend to
have anything to do with it; nor do I pretend to be angry with
you about it. But I find they do concern themselves about it,
and that they have used the poor girl ill about it, which I should
take as done to myself.' 'Whom do you mean by THEY?'
says Robin. 'I mean my mother and the girls,' says the elder
brother. 'But hark ye,' says his brother, 'are you in earnest?
Do you really 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 all the women in the world, and I will have her,
let them say and do what they will. I believe the girl will not
deny me.'

It struck me to the heart when he told me this, for though
it was most rational to think I would not deny him, yet I knew
in my own conscience I must deny him, and I saw my ruin in
my being obliged to do so; but I knew it was my business to
talk otherwise then, so I interrupted him in his story thus.

'Ay!,' said I, 'does he think I cannot deny him? But he shall
find I can deny him, for all that.'

'Well, my dear,' says he, 'but let me give you the whole story
as it went on between us, and then say what you will.'

Then he went on and told me that he replied thus: 'But,
brother, you know she has nothing, and you may have several
ladies with good fortunes.'

''Tis no matter for that,' said Robin; 'I love the girl, and I will
never 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 to say No, now though I had not learnt it before; if the
best lord in the land 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, as you said when we talked of it before, he well ask
you many questions about it, and all the house will wonder
what the meaning of it should be.'

'Why,' says I, smiling, 'I can stop all their mouths at one clap
by telling him, and them too, that I am married already to his
elder brother.'

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, he returned, 'Why, though that may be true in some
sense, yet I suppose you are but in jest when you talk of
giving such an answer as that; it may not be convenient on
many accounts.'

'No, no,' says I pleasantly, 'I am not so fond of letting the
secret come out without your consent.'

'But what, then, can you say to him, or to them,' says he,
'when they find you positive against a match which would
be apparently so much to your advantage?'

'Why,' says I, 'should I be at a loss? First of all, I am not
obliged to give me any reason at all; on the other hand, I may
tell them I am married already, and stop there, and that will
be a full stop too to him, 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 to father and mother, and if you deny them positively,
they will be disobliged at you, and suspicious besides.'

'Why,' says I, 'what can I do? What would have me do? I
was in straight enough before, and as I told you, I was in
perplexity before, and acquainted you with the circumstances,
that I might have your advice.'

'My dear,' says he, 'I have been considering very much upon
it, you may be sure, and though it is a piece of advice that has
a great many mortifications 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 go on; 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 as death, 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 with you? Where are you a-going?' and a
great many such things; and with jogging and called to me,
fetched me a little to myself, though it was a good while before
I fully recovered my senses, and was not able to speak for
several minutes more.

When I was fully recovered he began again. 'My dear,' says
he, 'what made you so surprised at what I said? I would have
you consider seriously of it? You may see plainly how the
family stand in this case, and they would be stark mad if it
was my case, as it is my brother's; and for aught I see, it
would be my ruin and yours too.'

'Ay!' says I, still speaking angrily; 'are all your protestations
and vows to be shaken by the dislike of the family? Did I not
always object that to you, and you made light thing of it, as
what you were above, and would value; and is it come to
this now?' said I. 'Is this your faith and honour, your love,
and the solidity of your promises?'

He continued perfectly calm, notwithstanding all my reproaches,
and I was not sparing of them at all; but he replied at last,
'My dear, I have not broken one promise with you yet; I did
tell you I would marry you 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 older than several are round us in
town; and you never proposed my marrying you sooner,
because you knew it might be my ruin; and as to all the rest, 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
in general. 'But why, then,' says I, 'can you persuade me to
such a horrid step as leaving you, since you have not left me?
Will you allow no affection, no love on my side, where there
has been so much on your side? Have I made you no returns?
Have I given no testimony of my sincerity and of my passion?
Are the sacrifices I have made of honour and modesty to you
no proof of my being tied to you in bonds too strong to be
broken?'

'But here, my dear,' says he, 'you may come into a safe station,
and appear with honour and with splendour at once, and the
remembrance of what we have done may be wrapt up in an
eternal silence, as if it had never happened; you shall always
have my respect, and my sincere affection, only then it shall
be honest, and perfectly just to my brother; you shall be my
dear sister, asnow you are my dear----' and there he stopped.

'Your dear whore,' says I, 'you would have said if you had
gone on, and you might as well have said it; but I understand
you. However, I desire you to remember the long discourses
you have had with me, and the many hours' pains you have
taken to persuade me to believe myself an honest woman;
that I was your wife intentionally, though not in the eyes of
the world, and that it was as effectual a marriage that had
passed between us as is we had been publicly wedded by the
parson of the parish. You know and cannot but remember
that these have been your own words to me.'

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28