Moll Flanders

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I found this was a little too close upon him, but I made it up
in what follows. He stood stock-still for a while and said
nothing, and I went on thus: 'You cannot,' says I, 'without
the highest injustice, believe that I yielded upon all these
persuasions without a love not to be questioned, not to be
shaken again by anything that could happen afterward. If you
have such dishonourable thoughts of me, I must ask you what
foundation in any of my behaviour have I given for such a
suggestion?

'If, then, I have yielded to the importunities of my affection,
and if I have been persuaded to believe that I am really, and
in the essence of the thing, your wife, shall I now give the lie
to all those arguments and call myself your whore, or mistress,
which is the same thing? And will you transfer me to your
brother? Canyou transfer my affection? Can you bid me
cease loving you, and bid me love him? It is in my power,
think you, to make such a change at demand? No, sir,' said I,
'depend upon it 'tis impossible, and whatever the change of
your side may be, I will ever be true; and I had much rather,
since it is come that unhappy length, be your whore than your
brother's wife.'

He appeared pleased and touched with the impression of this
last discourse, and told me that he stood where he did before;
that he had not been unfaithful to me in any one promise he
had ever made yet, but that there were so many terrible things
presented themselves to his view in the affair before me, and
that on my account in particular, that he had thought of the
other as a remedy so effectual as nothing could come up to it.
That he thought this would not be entire parting us, but we
might love as friends all our days, and perhaps with more
satisfaction than we should in the station we were now in,
as things might happen; that he durst say, I could not apprehend
anything from him as to betraying a secret, which could not
but be the destruction of us both, if it came out; that he had
but one question to ask of me that could lie in the way of it,
and if that question was answered in the negative, he could
not but think still it was the only step I could take.

I guessed at his question presently, namely, whether I was
sure I was not with child? As to that, I told him he need not
be concerned about it, for I was not with child. 'Why, then,
my dear,' says he, 'we have no time to talk further now.
Consider of it, and think closely about it; I cannot but be of
the opinion still, that it will be the best course you can take.'
And with this he took his leave, and the more hastily too, his
mother and sisters ringing at the gate, just at the moment that
he had risen up to go.

He left me in the utmost confusion of thought; and he easily
perceived it the next day, and all the rest of the week, for it
was but Tuesday evening when we talked; but he had no
opportunity to come at me all that week, till the Sunday after,
when I, being indisposed, did not go to church, and he, making
some excuse for the like, stayed at home.

And now he had me an hour and a half again by myself, and
we fell into the same arguments all over again, or at least so
near the same, as it would be to no purpose to repeat them.
At last I asked him warmly, what opinion he must have of my
modesty, that he could suppose I should so much as entertain
a thought of lying with two brothers, and assured him it could
never be. I added, if he was to tell me that he would never
see me more, than which nothing but death could be more
terrible, yet I could never entertain a thought so dishonourable
to myself, and so base to him; and therefore, I entreated him,
if he had one grain of respect or affection left for me, that he
would speak no more of it to me, or that he would pull his
sword out and kill me. He appeared surprised at my obstinacy,
as he called it; told me I was unkind to myself, and unkind to
him in it; that it was a crisis unlooked for upon us both, and
impossible for either of us to foresee, but that he did not see
any other way to save us both from ruin, and therefore he
thought it the more unkind; but that if he must say no more
of it to me, he added with an unusual coldness, that he did
not know anything else we had to talk of; and so he rose up to
take his leave. I rose up too, as if with the same indifference;
but when he came to give me as it were a parting kiss, I burst
out into such a passion of crying, that though I would have spoke,
I could not, and only pressing his hand, seemed to give him the
adieu, but cried vehemently.

He was sensibly moved with this; so he sat down again, and
said a great many kind things to me, to abate the excess of my
passion, but still urged the necessity of what he had proposed;
all the while insisting, that if I did refuse, he would notwith-
standing provide for me; but letting me plainly see that he
would decline me in the main point--nay, even as a mistress;
making it a point of honour not to lie with the woman that,
for aught he knew, might come to be his brother's wife.

The bare loss of him as a gallant was not so much my affliction
as the loss of his person, whom indeed I loved to distraction;
and the loss of all the expectations I had, and which I always
had built my hopes upon, of having him one day for my
husband. These things oppressed my mind so much, that, in
short, I fell very ill; the agonies of my mind, in a word, threw
me into a high fever, and long it was, that none in the family
expected my life.

I was reduced very low indeed, and was often delirious and
light-headed; but nothing lay so near me as the fear that, when
I was light-headed, I should say something or other to his
prejudice. I was distressed in my mind also to see him, and
so he was to see me, for he really loved me most passionately;
but it could not be; there was not the least room to desire it
on one side or other, or so much as to make it decent.

It was near five weeks that I kept my bed and though the
violence of my fever abated in three weeks, yet it several
times returned; and the physicians said two or three times,
they could do no more for me, but that they must leave nature
and the distemper to fight it out, only strengthening the first
with cordials to maintain the struggle. After the end of five
weeks I grew better, but was so weak, so altered, so melancholy,
and recovered so slowly, that they physicians apprehended I
should go into a consumption; and which vexed me most,
they gave it as their opinion that my mind was oppressed,
that something troubled me, and, in short, that I was in love.
Upon this, the whole house was set upon me to examine me,
and to press me to tell whether I was in love or not, and with
whom; but as I well might, I denied my being in love at all.

They had on this occasion a squabble one day about me at
table, that had like to have put the whole family in an uproar,
and for some time did so. They happened to be all at table but
the father; as for me, I was ill, and in my chamber. At the
beginning of the talk, which was just as they had finished
their dinner, the old gentlewoman, who had sent me somewhat
to eat, called her maid to go up and ask me if I would have any
more; but the maid brought down word I had not eaten half
what she had sent me already.

'Alas, says the old lady, 'that poor girl! I am afraid she will
never be well.'

'Well!' says the elder brother, 'how should Mrs. Betty be well?
They say she is in love.'

'I believe nothing of it,' says the old gentlewoman.

'I don't know,' says the eldest sister, 'what to say to it;
they have made such a rout about her being so handsome, and
so charming, and I know not what, and that in her hearing too,
that has turned the creature's head, I believe, and who knows
what possessions may follow such doings? For my part, I
don't know what to make of it.'

'Why, sister, you must acknowledge she is very handsome,'
says the elder brother.'

'Ay, and a great deal handsomer than you, sister,' says Robin,
'and that's your mortification.'

'Well, well, that is not the question,' says his sister; 'that girl
is well enough, and she knows it well enough; she need not
be told of it to make her vain.'

'We are not talking of her being vain,' says the elder brother,
'but of her being in love; it may be she is in love with herself;
it seems my sisters think so.'

'I would she was in love with me,' says Robin; 'I'd quickly
put her out of her pain.'

'What d'ye mean by that, son,' says the old lady; 'how can
you talk so?'

'Why, madam,' says Robin, again, very honestly, 'do you
think I'd let the poor girl die for love, and of one that is near
at hand to be had, too?'

'Fie, brother!', says the second sister, 'how can you talk so?
Would you take a creature that has not a groat in the world?'

'Prithee, child,' says Robin, 'beauty's a portion, and good-
humour with it is a double portion; I wish thou hadst half her
stock of both for thy portion.' So there was her mouth stopped.

'I find,' says the eldest sister, 'if Betty is not in love, my
brother is. I wonder he has not broke his mind to Betty; I
warrant she won't say No.'

'They that yield when they're asked,' says Robin, 'are one
step before them that were never asked to yield, sister, and
two steps before them that yield before they are asked; and
that's an answer to you, sister.'

This fired the sister, and she flew into a passion, and said,
things were some to that pass that it was time the wench,
meaning me, was out of the family; and but that she was not
fit to be turned out, she hoped her father and mother would
consider of it as soon as she could be removed.

Robin replied, that was business for the master and mistress
of the family, who where not to be taught by one that had so
little judgment as his eldest sister.

It ran up a great deal farther; the sister scolded, Robin rallied
and bantered, but poor Betty lost ground by it extremely in
the family. I heard of it, and I cried heartily, and the old lady
came up to me, somebody having told her that I was so much
concerned about it. I complained to her, that it was very hard
the doctors should pass such a censure upon me, for which
they had no ground; and that it was still harder, considering
the circumstances I was under in the family; that I hoped I
had done nothing to lessen her esteem for me, or given any
occasion for the bickering between her sons and daughters,
and I had more need to think of a coffin than of being in love,
and begged she would not let me suffer in her opinion for
anybody's mistakes but my own.

She was sensible of the justice of what I said, but told me,
since there had been such a clamour among them, and that her
younger son talked after such a rattling way as he did, she
desired I would be so faithful to her as to answer her but one
question sincerely. I told her I would, with all my heart, and
with the utmost plainness and sincerity. Why, then, the
question was, whether there way anything between her son
Robert and me. I told her with all the protestations of sincerity
that I was able to make, and as I might well, do, that there was
not, nor every had been; I told her that Mr. Robert had rattled
and jested, as she knew it was his way, and that I took it always,
as I supposed he meant it, to be a wild airy way of discourse
that had no signification in it; and again assured her, that there
was not the least tittle of what she understood by it between
us; and that those who had suggested it had done me a great
deal of wrong, and Mr. Robert no service at all.

The old lady was fully satisfied, and kissed me, spoke
cheerfully to me, and bid me take care of my health and want
for nothing, and so took her leave. But when she came down
she found the brother and all his sisters together by the ears;
they were angry, even to passion, at his upbraiding them with
their being homely, and having never had any sweethearts,
never having been asked the question, and their being so
forward as almost to ask first. He rallied them upon the
subject of Mrs. Betty; how pretty, how good-humoured, how
she sung better then they did, and danced better, and how
much handsomer she was; and in doing this he omitted no
ill-natured thing that could vex them, and indeed, pushed too
hard upon them. The old lady came down in the height of it,
and to put a stop it to, told them all the discourse she had had
with me, and how I answered, that there was nothing between
Mr. Robert and I.

'She's wrong there,' says Robin, 'for if there was not a great
deal between us, we should be closer together than we are.
I told her I lover her hugely,' says he, 'but I could never make
the jade believe I was in earnest.' 'I do not know how you
should,' says his mother; 'nobody in their senses could believe
you were in earnest, to talk so to a poor girl, whose circumstances
you know so well.

'But prithee, son,' adds she, 'since you tell me that you could
not make her believe you were in earnest, what must we
believe about it? For you ramble so in your discourse, that
nobody knows whether you are in earnest or in jest; but as I
find the girl, by your own confession, has answered truly, I
wish you would do so too, and tell me seriously, so that I may
depend upon it. Is there anything in it or no? Are you in
earnest or no? Are you distracted, indeed, or are you not?
'Tis a weighty question, and I wish you would make us easy
about it.'

'By my faith, madam,' says Robin, ''tis in vain to mince the
matter or tell any more lies about it; I am in earnest, as much
as a man is that's going to be hanged. If Mrs. Betty would
say she loved me, and that she would marry me, I'd have her
tomorrow morning fasting, and say, 'To have and to hold,'
instead of eating my breakfast.'

'Well,' says the mother, 'then there's one son lost'; and she
said it in a very mournful tone, as one greatly concerned at it.

'I hope not, madam,' says Robin; 'no man is lost when a good
wife has found him.'

'Why, but, child,' says the old lady, 'she is a beggar.'

'Why, then, madam, she has the more need of charity,' says
Robin; 'I'll take her off the hands of the parish, and she and
I'll beg together.'

'It's bad jesting with such things,' says the mother.

'I don't jest, madam,' says Robin. 'We'll come and beg your
pardon, madam; and your blessing, madam, and my father's.'

'This is all out of the way, son,' says the mother. 'If you are
in earnest you are undone.'

'I am afraid not,' says he, 'for I am really afraid she won't
have me; after all my sister's huffing and blustering, I believe
I shall never be able to persuade her to it.'

'That's a fine tale, indeed; she is not so far out of her senses
neither. Mrs. Betty is no fool,' says the younger sister. 'Do
you think she has learnt to say No, any more than other people?'

'No, Mrs. Mirth-wit,' says Robin, 'Mrs. Betty's no fool; but
Mrs. Betty may be engaged some other way, and what then?'

'Nay,' says the eldest sister, 'we can say nothing to that. Who
must it be to, then? She is never out of the doors; it must be
between you.'

'I have nothing to say to that,' says Robin. 'I have been
examined enough; there's my brother. If it must be between
us, go to work with him.'

This stung the elder brother to the quick, and he concluded
that Robin had discovered something. However, he kept
himself from appearing disturbed. 'Prithee,' says he, 'don't
go to shame your stories off upon me; I tell you, I deal in no
such ware; I have nothing to say to Mrs. Betty, nor to any of
the Mrs. Bettys in the parish'; and with that he rose up and
brushed off.

'No,' says the eldest sister, 'I dare answer for my brother; he
knows the world better.'

Thus the discourse ended, but it left the elder brother quite
confounded. He concluded his brother had made a full
discovery, and he began to doubt whether I had been concerned
in it or not; but with all his management he could not bring
it about to get at me. At last he was so perplexed that he was
quite desperate, and resolved he would come into my chamber
and see me, whatever came of it. In order to do this, he
contrived it so, that one day after dinner, watching his eldest
sister till he could see her go upstairs, he runs after her. 'Hark
ye, sister,' says he, 'where is this sick woman? May not a
body see her?' 'Yes,' says the sister, 'I believe you may; but
let me go first a little, and I'll tell you.' So she ran up to the
door and gave me notice, and presently called to him again.
'Brother,' says she, 'you may come if you please.' So in he
came, just in the same kind of rant. 'Well,' says he at the door
as he came in, 'where is this sick body that's in love? How
do ye do, Mrs. Betty?' I would have got up out of my chair,
but was so weak I could not for a good while; and he saw it,
and his sister to, and she said, 'Come, do not strive to stand
up; my brother desires no ceremony, especially now you are
so weak.' 'No, no, Mrs. Betty, pray sit still,' says he, and so
sits himself down in a chair over against me, and appeared as
if he was mighty merry.

He talked a lot of rambling stuff to his sister and to me,
sometimes of one thing, sometimes of another, on purpose
to amuse his sister, and every now and then would turn it
upon the old story, directing it to me. 'Poor Mrs. Betty,' says
he, 'it is a sad thing to be in love; why, it has reduced you
sadly.' At last I spoke a little. 'I am glad to see you so merry,
sir,' says I; 'but I think the doctor might have found something
better to do than to make his game at his patients. If I had
been ill of no other distemper, I know the proverb too well to
have let him come to me.' 'What proverb?' says he, 'Oh! I
remember it now. What--
"Where love is the case,
The doctor's an ass."

Is not that it, Mrs. Betty?' I smiled and said nothing. 'Nay,'
says he, 'I think the effect has proved it to be love, for it
seems the doctor has been able to do you but little service;
you mend very slowly, they say. I doubt there's somewhat in
it, Mrs. Betty; I doubt you are sick of the incurables, and that
is love.' I smiled and said, 'No, indeed, sir, that's none of my
distemper.'

We had a deal of such discourse, and sometimes others that
signified as little. By and by he asked me to sing them a song,
at which I smiled, and said my singing days were over. At last
he asked me if he should play upon his flute to me; his sister
said she believe it would hurt me, and that my head could
not bear it. I bowed, and said, No, it would not hurt me.
'And, pray, madam.' said I, 'do not hinder it; I love the music
of the flute very much.' Then his sister said, 'Well, do, then,
brother.' With that he pulled out the key of his closet. 'Dear
sister,' says he, 'I am very lazy; do step to my closet and fetch
my flute; it lies in such a drawer,' naming a place where he
was sure it was not, that she might be a little while a-looking
for it.

As soon as she was gone, he related the whole story to me
of the discourse his brother had about me, and of his pushing
it at him, and his concern about it, which was the reason of
his contriving this visit to me. I assured him I had never
opened my mouth either to his brother or to anybody else.
I told him the dreadful exigence I was in; that my love to him,
and his offering to have me forget that affection and remove
it to another, had thrown me down; and that I had a thousand
times wished I might die rather than recover, and to have the
same circumstances to struggle with as I had before, and that
his backwardness to life had been the great reason of the
slowness of my recovering. I added that I foresaw that as soon
as I was well, I must quit the family, and that as for marrying
his brother, I abhorred the thoughts of it after what had been
my case with him, and that he might depend upon it I would
never see his brother again upon that subject; that if he would
break all his vows and oaths and engagements with me, be
that between his conscience and his honour and himself; but
he should never be able to say that I, whom he had persuaded
to call myself his wife, and who had given him the liberty to
use me as a wife, was not as faithful to him as a wife ought to
be, whatever he might be to me.

He was going to reply, and had said that he was sorry I could
not be persuaded, and was a-going to say more, but he heard
his sister a-coming, and so did I; and yet I forced out these
few words as a reply, that I could never be persuaded to love
one brother and marry another. He shook his head and said,
'Then I am ruined,' meaning himself; and that moment his
sister entered the room and told him she could not find the
flute. 'Well,' says he merrily, 'this laziness won't do'; so he
gets up and goes himself to go to look for it, but comes back
without it too; not but that he could have found it, but because
his mind was a little disturbed, and he had no mind to play;
and, besides, the errand he sent his sister on was answered
another way; for he only wanted an opportunity to speak to
me, which he gained, though not much to his satisfaction.

I had, however, a great deal of satisfaction in having spoken
my mind to him with freedom, and with such an honest
plainness, as I have related; and though it did not at all work
the way I desired, that is to say, to oblige the person to me
the more, yet it took from him all possibility of quitting me
but by a downright breach of honour, and giving up all the
faith of a gentleman to me, which he had so often engaged by,
never to abandon me, but to make me his wife as soon as he
came to his estate.

It was not many weeks after this before I was about the house
again, and began to grow well; but I continued melancholy,
silent, dull, and retired, which amazed the whole family, except
he that knew the reason of it; yet it was a great while before
he took any notice of it, and I, as backward to speak as he,
carried respectfully to him, but never offered to speak a word
to him that was particular of any kind whatsoever; and this
continued for sixteen or seventeen weeks; so that, as I expected
every day to be dismissed the family, on account of what
distaste they had taken another way, in which I had no guilt,
so I expected to hear no more of this gentleman, after all his
solemn vows and protestations, but to be ruined and abandoned.

At last I broke the way myself in the family for my removing;
for being talking seriously with the old lady one day, about
my own circumstances in the world, and how my distemper
had left a heaviness upon my spirits, that I was not the same
thing I was before, the old lady said, 'I am afraid, Betty, what
I have said to you about my son has had some influence upon
you, and that you are melancholy on his account; pray, will
you let me know how the matter stands with you both, if it
may not be improper? For, as for Robin, he does nothing but
rally and banter when I speak of it to him.' 'Why, truly,
madam,' said I 'that matter stands as I wish it did not, and I
shall be very sincere with you in it, whatever befalls me for it.
Mr. Robert has several times proposed marriage to me, which
is what I had no reason to expect, my poor circumstances
considered; but I have always resisted him, and that perhaps
in terms more positive than became me, considering the regard
that I ought to have for every branch of your family; but,' said
I, 'madam, I could never so far forget my obligation to you
and all your house, to offer to consent to a thing which I know
must needs be disobliging to you, and this I have made my
argument to him, and have positively told him that I would
never entertain a though of that kind unless I had your consent,
and his father's also, to whom I was bound by so many
invincible obligations.'

'And is this possible, Mrs. Betty?' says the old lady. 'Then
you have been much juster to us than we have been to you;
for we have all looked upon you as a kind of snare to my son,
and I had a proposal to make to you for your removing, for
fear of it; but I had not yet mentioned it to you, because I
thought you were not thorough well, and I was afraid of
grieving you too much, lest it should throw you down again;
for we have all a respect for you still, though not so much as
to have it be the ruin of my son; but if it be as you say, we have
all wronged you very much.'

'As to the truth of what I say, madam,' said I, 'refer you to
your son himself; if he will do me any justice, he must tell you
the story just as I have told it.'

Away goes the old lady to her daughters and tells them the
whole story, just as I had told it her; and they were surprised
at it, you may be sure, as I believed they would be. One said
she could never have thought it; another said Robin was a fool;
a third said she would not believe a word of it, and she would
warrant that Robin would tell the story another way. But the
old gentlewoman, who was resolved to go to the bottom of it
before I could have the least opportunity of acquainting her
son with what had passed, resolved too that she would talk
with her son immediately, and to that purpose sent for him,
for he was gone but to a lawyer's house in the town, upon
some petty business of his own, and upon her sending he
returned immediately.

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