It would be needless to repeat the distraction that both mother and daughter were involved in at this sudden turn in their fate; neither could it be pleasing to a virtuous ear to hear those shocking and profane exclamations, which 'tis easy to suppose persons of their abandoned principles make use of, when any way crossed by providence in the pursuit of their wicked designs. It must be confessed, indeed, that Syrena had very ill luck in being so often on the very point of compassing all her avarice, ambition, or pride could aim at; and then, by the most unforeseen accidents, thrown from the height of all her hopes. And here, methinks, it is worth remarking, how the indulging one vice, destroyed all the success she might have expected from the other; for had she been less lewd, her hypocrisy, in all probability, had obtained its end, at least, in this last pursuit it had done so: but it is generally the fate of such wretches, who, while they go about ensnaring and deceiving all they can, to be themselves ensnared and deceived, either by others, or their own headstrong and ungoverned appetites.

            In a short space of time they again began to feel the want of what before they had profusely lavished. Syrena was not idle in spreading her nets; but none as yet had the ill fortune to fall into them, and the first that did, proved little to her advantage, as well as to his own. Their acquaintance began in this manner.

            She was walking one day through the strand, equipped for adventures in a modish dishabille, with a little hat on her head, and a cane in her hand, when she saw at a bookseller's door a gentleman, whom she no sooner cast her eye upon, than she imagined fit for her purpose: he was in the prime of his age, well proportioned, genteel, and had somewhat in his looks that denoted him to be of a more than ordinary amorous constitution: she perceived he had his eye upon her as she passed, and the street being pretty dirty, and the kennel of a great breadth just in that part, she either had, or seemed to have an occasion to cross the way–the coaches driving backward and forward very fast, it being term time, made her often obliged to stop, and return, then go on again, and all this opposite to where the gentleman stood; so that he had a full opportunity of seeing and admiring all the pretty airs she put on; the distress she affected, in not being able to prosecute her little journey, gave him a pretence of offering to assist her. He stepped hastily to her, and taking her under the arm with one hand, and with the other extending his cane to keep off the horses, like a true knight-errant, lifted his Dulcinea over the muddy brook, and safely bore her to the farther shore. When arrived, she made a curtsy, and thanked him with so bewitching a softness in her eyes and voice, as wholly completed the conquest she desired. He entreated permission to attend her to the place where she was going, and telling her it was altogether unfit a lady of her appearance should walk the streets, without some person who might guard her, both from the insults of the undistinguishing populace, and the dangers also, such uncommon charms might lay her under, from men of more elevated rank. To these obliging offers and compliments, she made him such answers, as gave him an opinion she had been brought up in high life, and had conversed only with people of the greatest fashion; but seemed to decline accepting his protection any farther, saying there was no need of his giving himself that trouble, since she was only going home, and there were no more such ugly places to pass over in her way thither; adding, that she was already under too great an obligation to his care to consent to receive any addition; since she was conscious there was nothing in her conversation capable of compensating for his loss of time. This naturally drew a great many fine things from him; nor would he be persuaded to quit her, though she often desired he would; but how sincerely the reader may imagine.

            They walked on together talking in this manner, when just as they passed by a tavern, he perceived her colour change, and a sudden trembling seize all her limbs, which, as I have in many instances explained, she could bring on herself whenever she found it necessary for her purpose. He was surprised and troubled at this alteration, and was about to ask the cause, when she catched hold of his arm, as if to save herself from falling; rolled her eyes with a half dying languor, then closed them, and appeared quite fainting. He little suspecting all this for artifice, was extremely frighted, and supporting her as well as he could, led her into the tavern, where having called for hartshorn and water, she soon became revived, but seemed not presently to recollect her senses enough to know where she was, or what had happened to her; but when she did, "O heaven! cried she, how strange an accident is this! Bless me, how can I answer to myself or the world, being in a tavern with a gentleman, I never saw before! or how, sir, can I ever retaliate the favours I have received from you this day!" Besides the common compliments on such occasions, as thinking it an honour to be any way serviceable to a lady who seemed so much to deserve it, he being a man of great wit and gallantry, added a thousand infinitely more elegant and obliging; his natural complaisance and respect to the fair sex, being now heightened by a passion he had never felt before, though frequently what is called a lover, he expressed himself in a manner, which might have charmed a woman less susceptible than her he now addressed. 'Tis certain she was transported with him, and had no need of feigning to make him see his behaviour had made an impression on her. All her subject for dissimulation, was to pass it on him for the first, which she was too perfect a mistress of, not to succeed in.

            On his asking her if she had been accustomed to these faintings, "No, sir," answered she, calling to her cheeks a most becoming blush, "I never before knew what it was to lose my senses, even for a moment. Few women, I thank heaven, are blessed with a better constitution, or a more easy and cheerful mind. I know not what to think of the accident that has just now happened, nor to what cause to impute it, and were I inclined to be superstitious, should be apprehensive it was the fore-runner of some very extraordinary event." "If we pay any regard to history or tradition," said the gentleman, "whatever happens out of the common course of nature, as your disorder, madam, seems to have been, has ever been looked upon as a presage of some unexpected change in fortune. But you have not the least reason to imagine it an ill omen; since it would be calling in question the justice of providence, to suppose it had created an excellence like yours, for anything but to give and receive the highest good this world at least can bestow; but I suspect," continued he, with a sigh, "that as so many charms cannot be without an adequate number of adorers, it was the commiseration for woes you cannot bring yourself to redress, that overwhelmed your gentle heart, and for a moment deprived you of yourself."

            Here he ceased, and looked steadfastly on her with a kind of enquiring, yet imploring eye; and she who easily saw into his thoughts, and found with pleasure the influence she had gained, made no immediate reply; and when she did, assuming a half smile, "By the manner of your talking", said she, "I fancy you take me for a maid; but, sir, I have been married, and as I was so without feeling for him who was my husband, much less any other man; those emotions, lovers talk of, I cannot have much compassion for what I always looked on fictitious, and mere words of course." "How," madam, cried he, "have you been married, and are so long a widow, as to be out of mourning, at your years? On this she told him the same story, she had done her former lovers; only with this difference, that as she knew not his circumstances, it seemed most proper to keep him ignorant of hers, till time should discover, if it were best to affect poverty or riches.

            After having passed about two hours with him; she thought it time to pretend being perfectly recovered; nor could all his persuasions, nor her own secret inclinations, induce her to stay longer. She could not now, however, refuse giving him leave to go home with her, which he did; and on her telling her mother before him, the civilities she had received from him; he was treated with the utmost respect and gratitude, by the seemingly good Mrs Tricksy. And from her as well as Syrena, had permission to wait on them again.

            When he was gone, and these ensnarers had liberty to consult together, judging by his garb and appearance, that he was a man of a fortune sufficient to maintain her as a wife; they set all their wits to work to make a husband of him; for in the way of discourse to them both, he had declared himself neither married nor under any engagements of that kind. Schemes were therefore contrived between them to delude him; which they afterward had but too much opportunity to put in practice; and which his own temper and circumstances contributed to assist in.

            He was a gentleman whose father had been possessed of a plentiful estate, but by giving too much into the gallantries of the times had dissipated it so far, that at his decease he had not an acre to bequeath; and young Mr P–– was only left with a small fortune in money, for which the last acre had been disposed of: his education had been the best for a man of an estate, but the worst for a man of business: he had too much pride to descend to anything for bread, which he thought unbefitting his birth; and though he had many powerful friends, whose interest might have procured him a place at court, or a commission in the army, either of which he would gladly have accepted, whenever such a thing was in agitation, some cross accident intervened, and disappointed his hopes; when they seemed nearest the accomplishment. Several years having passed over since the death of his father; and nothing succeeding according to his expectations, his little stock of money almost exhausted, and years coming on, for he was now turned of thirty; he could think of nothing to retrieve himself but marriage. He was, therefore, on his acquaintance with Syrena, looking out for some elderly widow or maid, whose substance might support him in the eve of life, in a decent manner; and as he was a man perfectly agreeable both in his person and conversation, 'tis not to be doubted, but he might easily have succeeded in that view, had he not unhappily met with this fair, and more base deceiver, whose arts engrossed his whole attention on herself, and rendered him incapable, because unwilling, to apply where his good genius called him.

            He imagined by Syrena's appearance, and the manner in which her mother and she lived, that she must have either a good fortune in her own hands, or a jointure; and though he was enough infatuated with her, to have married her without a shilling, could his affairs have admitted of it; yet the belief, that she had sufficient for them both, was no small spur to his inclinations. With the view therefore of making his addresses to her, did he visit her the next day; where everything he saw, serving the more to confirm him in the good opinion he had conceived of their circumstances; for they took care to put on the best outside; he after two or three visits more declared himself a lover. Syrena received his suit with the greatest show of modesty; but blended with a certain languor in her eyes, which gave him to understand, as if against her will, that she felt the highest satisfaction on it. Every time he entertained her on this topic, she grew less and less reserved, and at last confessed, that she loved him from the first moment she beheld him; and that it was wholly owing to the emotions he had occasioned in her; that she fell into those disorders which gave rise to their acquaintance. How pleasing are the thoughts of being beloved by one who seems worthy of being loved! Mr P–– thought himself the happiest of all created beings; blessed in the purest and tenderest affections of the most beautiful, most engaging, and most virtuous of her sex; and one who had also a handsome competency at least, to make smooth the rugged road of life. Though he was by nature a man of very warm inclinations, and had been the destruction of many fine women's virtue and reputation; so great was the respect he bore Syrena, that though he had unnumbered opportunities he never took the advantage of any of them, or approached her with liberties beyond a kiss, which considering her constitution, and the real liking she had to him, was not, perhaps, so agreeable to her as he imagined. He all this time, however, never came directly to the point, and though he courted her on honourable terms, and she had acknowledged the greatest passion for him, he had not pressed the consummation of his happiness; had not entreated her to fix the day that should give her forever to him. This very much surprised both mother and daughter, and made them begin to fear there was some mystery in his being so silent on that head; and having considered on what means would be best for obliging him to explain himself, Mrs Tricksy one day, when Syrena on purpose had left the room, took an occasion to tell him, that as she found he and her daughter had settled their affections on each other, she hoped he would not think it an improper question if she desired to be informed of some particulars relating to his fortune. On which he seemed a little confounded; but answered, that his estate at present did not exceed four hundred pounds per annum; but that he expected more on the death of a relation. Well, resumed Mrs Tricksy, four hundred pounds a year frugally managed, may keep a little table for a time. Mr P–– thought he had now an excuse for expressing a desire of knowing in what manner Syrena was left in her widowhood; his ignorance of that having been, indeed, the cause he had not been more eager for the knot being tied; for though he loved her with an extremity of passion, he had no notion of living with a wife in a mean and penurious manner. "Madam," said he, in answer to Mrs Tricksy's last words, "my estate is much too small to maintain your daughter in a fashion worthy of her, and I should be ashamed to be too much indebted to a wife's purse: I would, therefore, endeavour to bring my kinsman to add something before his death to what I at present enjoy." "If you can do so it will be well," replied Mrs Tricksy, "but if not, you must be content; perhaps when you are married and children come, he may be prevailed upon. In the meantime, you may make some small settlement out of what you have upon my daughter." "Gladly, madam," cried he, "and whatever the young lady is possessed of, shall also be settled on herself." This was enough to let her see he expected a fortune with her, and as it was impossible to deceive him in that point, thought best not to attempt it; but to seem entirely open in what could not be concealed, that he might the more readily believe those things in which she had it in her power to impose on him. "Sir," said she, "what I have to tell you will be a certain test of the sincerity of that affection you profess. I do assure you, Syrena has at present no fortune; but lives dependant on me who have a tolerable good jointure, and is all that is preserved out of a large estate her father once enjoyed; but which, at my decease goes also to an eldest son. Not that she will always be a beggar .She is set down six thousand pounds in the will of a rich cousin, who by the course of nature cannot live many years, being now more than ninety. Several others also of our kindred have promised to leave her handsomely; so that, as I observed before, if you both live frugally for a while, you may hereafter indulge what want of fortune, at present, will not suffer you to enjoy with prudence."

            Mr P–– found a shivering at his heart from the time Mrs Tricksy had said her daughter was no more than a dependent on her; but he concealed the shock it gave him as much as possible, and told her, he was only concerned, that he had not more to lay at Syrena's feet.

            Notwithstanding all his efforts to behave with the same gaiety as usual, he could not conceal from the piercing eyes of Syrena and her mother, his inward discontent; and reasoning upon it after he was gone, they both were of opinion he would not marry without a portion, which was not a little disappointment to them both, as they doubted not the truth of his being possessed of some estate, if not altogether so much as he pretended.

            He, on his part, when the hour came in which it was proper for him to retire, went home to his lodgings with an aching heart: he loved Syrena, too well to be able to live without her in any tolerable degree of peace, and the impossibility of maintaining her as a wife, made him pass the night in the most grievous agitations. He cursed fate and his friends, whose endeavours to get him a place had been unsuccessful; for as he doubted not the truth of what Mrs Tricksy had told him concerning the six thousand pounds, and other legacies, he thought if he could any way have supported her till that time, he might very well venture to marry her; but as things stood now with him, that was entirely out of the question, and how to proceed he could not determine.

            He went to visit her the next day, however, and several succeeding ones as before this éclaircissement<156> had been made; but though he could not forbear talking to her as a lover, he mentioned not the least word of marriage, which confirming Syrena and her mother in their conjectures, that he intended no such thing, made them resolve to push the matter home; but in what manner they could not yet determine; and were thinking of various stratagems, without being able to fix on any, when fortune presented Syrena with an adventure, which furnished her with one, that, besides being agreeable in itself, promised success.

            She was walking across the Park one morning, after having breakfasted with a friend at Westminster, when she saw a gentleman go before her, whose shape and air she fancied she was not unacquainted with. She, therefore, mended her pace, and though he went not slow came up with him, and pulling her hat as low as she could to conceal her face, if it should chance to be any of those she had reason to avoid, looked full on him as she passed, and found it was Vardine, the man who had triumphed over her virgin beauties, and betrayed her innocence, if a creature so early bred up in wiles, can be said to remember she ever had any. It presently came into her head, that he might be of service in her designs on Mr P––, and accosted him with a tap on the arm with her little cane. He started and turned to her taking her at first for one of those ladies of pleasure who frequent that place; for he knew her not immediately, being grown fatter and somewhat more plump, though far from fat; but she soon by her voice, and discovering her face more fully, let him see who she was. He was a little confounded at first, and was beginning to make excuses for his behaviour; but she would not suffer him to go on, telling him she had forgot and forgiven all that was disagreeable to her in his conduct; that she was now glad to see him, and had a favour to ask of him, which it would cost him nothing to grant. He took this as a sort of reproach for the little he had done for her; but made her no other answer, than that he should rejoice in an opportunity of obliging her with anything in his power. After some conversation relating to their former intimacy, they adjourned to a tavern, where finding by him that he was still but a lieutenant, and had as little money to spare in matters of gallantry as ever, she attempted not to impose on him in any shape, affected not virtue, nor refused, on his desiring it, a renewing of those endearments he before had experienced from her, though then given with more artifice than she now took the trouble to put in practice. She told him she was endeavouring to draw in a gentleman to marry her, and that if he would assist her, he should command her in everything. He readily complied to do anything she desired on that score, and thought he owed her a greater service, if in his power, for the favours she had conferred on him. She carried him home to dinner, and having presented him to her mother, and told her his name, soon reconciled her to him, by informing her also, what he was to do for her; they then all three entered into a consultation, and as he was a graceful young fellow and well dressed, it seemed probable, that the very sight of him would create a jealousy in Mr P––, that might serve to quicken his love; it was, therefore, agreed upon, that he should stay till the other came, which was generally about the hours of six or seven, and then take his leave with a seemingly dejected air.

            Vardine acted his part as naturally as they could wish, and Mr P–– made no doubt but he had a rival, which, as he truly loved her, was no small addition to his inquietudes. He complained of it to Syrena in the most tender terms, and she confessed, blushing, that indeed that young officer had made pretensions to her almost ever since her widowhood; but that he was always her aversion, and that having been obliged to go into the country to his regiment, she had hoped to have been rid of his importunities, and was sorry to find he still continued his passion for her; but, said she, I had not seen him today, if by chance I had not been at the window when he knocked, and am resolved to be denied to him henceforward, if he comes ever so often. "Be easy and satisfied, therefore," continued she, "for as I loved him not when my heart was wholly unengaged, 'tis impossible to endure him now, so full as it is of your idea." The believing lover appeared transported with joy and gratitude; and had it not been for the thoughts of not being able at present to make so excellent a woman his own, his ecstasy had been beyond all bounds.

            Some few days after this they contrived it so, that when Mr P–– was in the dining-room with Mrs Tricksy and her daughter, a great sound of voices was heard below, and the old deceiver feigning a surprise, opened the door, as to listen what it meant, having stood a moment, "Heavens!" cried she, "'tis Captain Vardine! He is quite outrageous on your being denied to him. I must go down myself, and put a stop to the clamours of his despair: with speaking this she ran hastily out of the room, and the door being purposely left open, Mr P–– heard him say, "I have nothing wherewith to accuse the cruel charmer, nor the happy gentleman I am told she has made choice of; I only would beg once more to see her, to take my last farewell, and die before her eyes." Mrs Tricksy seemed expostulating with him; but he continued his exclamations for some time, and Syrena pretended the utmost terror, lest he should force his way upstairs, and there should be a quarrel between him and Mr P––; at length, however he departed, and Mrs Tricksy, returned, full of a well-counterfeited concern for his condition.

            To refuse a man who loved her with such an excess of passion and unwearied constancy, they thought would lay a kind of obligation on Mr P––'s honour, as well as his love, to make her his wife; but to strengthen her claim to him they also had recourse to another artifice, which was this:

            They had several worthy and good relations, as has been before mentioned, who had formerly been very kind and beneficent to them; but some whispers concerning the conduct of Syrena, which the manner in which she was supported without following any business, served to confirm, having reached their ears, they had not seen either her or her mother for a long time; but on this juncture, that crafty woman ventured to approach them, saying, that her daughter was now about being married to a gentleman of an estate, and that there wanted nothing to hasten the marriage, but their vouchsafing to own her as a relation, without which, continued she, he may imagine she has been guilty of some mismanagement, and break off. To retrieve the character, therefore, and settle in the world a young person allied to them, the greatest part of them consented to visit her; and now there seldom passed an evening, without his seeing some or other of his intended wife's kindred: they all approved highly of his person and behaviour, and he was invited to all their houses by turns, which, not knowing how to avoid accepting, he went with Syrena and her mother: the fashion in which they lived, and the entertainments they made for him, would have convinced him, if he had not been so before, that she was no mean person. But all this served only to make him more unhappy, by reflecting, that he had acted dishonourably, by pretending to have what he had not; and that he appeared guilty of ingratitude, by not doing what, as his affairs were, he had not power to do, without bringing to the utmost misery, both himself and the person he loved.

            No offers yet being made by him, of bringing the matter to a conclusion, Mrs Tricksy and her daughter began to despair of ever compassing their point; but to ascertain themselves of the truth, if possible, they tried one more expedient in the following manner.

            Pretty early one morning as he was dressing to go out, the servant of the house where he lodged, told him, a lady desired to speak with him. He was a little alarmed, imagining it a young creature with whom he had commenced an amour, before he saw the fatal face of Syrena, and who he knew was with child by him; as his new passion had rendered him wholly neglectful of her of late, he doubted not but she was come to reproach him, and endeavoured to prevail on the servant to say he was not at home: "How can I do that, sir," said she, "when I have already told the lady you were?" "Pish," cried he, "can't you pretend you were mistaken, and that I went out without your seeing me." As they were arguing, Syrena's impatience at being made wait so long, with a little mixture of jealousy, that some other woman might be with him, made her fly upstairs without being asked; he was agreeably surprised to find it was she, and begged a thousand pardons for not coming down to receive her. "I have no reason," said she, "to be offended at your want of ceremony; for as I did not send up my name, I believe I was the last person you could think of, that was come to disturb you." He was beginning to make some compliments on the favour she did him, but she put a stop to them, as soon as the maid had left the room, by saying, "The affair I come upon deserves not these civil things. I am come," continued she, bursting into tears, "to forbid you our house. You must see me no more; my mother has resolved it, and is prepared to tell you so at your next visit. I thought the news would be less shocking from my mouth; and therefore in spite of all the considerations that might have restrained me, am come to take my everlasting leave; and to tell you, that though I cannot think you love me with that tenderness you have professed, you are too dear to me, for me to be able to resent anything you do, and that you ever will be so to the last moment of my wretched life."

            These words, and the manner in which they were spoke, touched him to the very soul; he was ready to keep her company in tears; and though he did not absolutely weep, his eyes were full, and it was not without great difficulty he withheld the swelling grief from falling down his cheeks. "Ah, madam!" cried he, "what is it you tell me? What can have made this sudden alteration in your mother's sentiments?" "That," replied she, "which ought to have had the same effect on mine–your deceit in pretending to love me only for my person and mind, when in reality you regarded nothing but the fortune you supposed me mistress of." Here he made a thousand asseverations to the contrary of what she accused him of; and that no woman in the world, though endowed with all that could glut the avarice of the most sordid man, could have the power to alienate his affection from her; and concluded what he said with a solemn vow, never to marry any other, unless she first should lead the way; to this she made no answer, but sighs, and he resumed his protestations; "Had I millions," said he, "I would devote them all, with myself, to the service of the charming, the adorable Syrena; but as the little, the very little I am at present master of, is insufficient to give her even ease in life, is it not a greater proof of love, to restrain the burning wishes she has inspired me with, and delay my happiness till fate shall put it in the power of one of us, to make marriage comfortable, than to desire she should be partaker of my abject fortune?"

            Syrena was too penetrating not to see into the fallacy of this argument, but as she was resolved to pin herself upon him anyway, she forbore to urge the matter farther, and said, "I should readily agree with you; that it is better to wait till the death of this old impediment of my happiness, shall make me mistress of my fortune, but my mother will never be brought to think as we do. She presses me to marry the young officer, and though I am resolved never to yield to that, and could sooner die than suffer the embraces of any but him, to whom I have given my heart; yet I must, terrible as it is to me, forbear your sight and conversation, till better times. If you can be constant in absence, and preserve your heart for me, as I shall do mine for you, we may hereafter find a recompense for our present pains." This Mr P–– was ready enough to consent to, but could not tell how to bring himself to think of not seeing her till the time should arise, of claiming the performance of her promise; and he expressing the impossibility there was for him to live without her society, she aimed not to render him more satisfied on that head, but pretended that whatever she had said, she doubted not but he would soon hear she was no more, when she no more enjoyed his presence.

            Nothing could be more tender than their conversation; but he still persisting in his first resolution of not marrying yet a-while, she fell into violent fits, the people of the house were called up, but as she seemed a little recovered, withdrew.  She then wept, and hung upon him with agonies, such as threatened distraction; he kissed, embraced, said all he could to comfort her, and these endearments continuing for a long time, rendered both, according to all appearance, in the end forgetful of themselves, and sinking into each others' arms, they enjoyed the pleasures of matrimony without the ceremony. But Syrena, whose every word and look during the whole time of her being with him, was studied artifice, and before concerted with her mother, seemed so shocked at what she had done, that she begged he would that moment run his sword through her heart; for life after the loss of honour, cried she, would be a perfect hell. He endeavoured to reconcile her to an act, which he said could not be criminal between two people, whose souls were already married, and who had resolved never to receive any other idea, than those with which they were at present filled. She began by degrees to seem convinced by his reasons, but told him, that after what had happened, she could not think of being absent from him even a day;  that she now looked upon him as her husband, and conscious of her own integrity, regarded not what opinion the world might have of her conduct; and in fine, said she would live with him as a mistress, till circumstances should admit of her being made a wife.

            An offer, such as this, from a woman of her supposed modesty, could not but surprise him. He took it however as a proof of the most exalted and disinterested passion that ever was; but when he reflected, that to support her as a mistress, would be little less inconvenient than maintaining her as a wife, it very much puzzled him. But he loved her, and that overcame all other considerations; she stayed with him at his lodgings, shared the same bed, and they lived together in every respect, as if they had been married.

            So full an enjoyment did not in the least abate his tenderness; and though after she had been with him some few days, he was told by persons who happened to see her at his window, that she was a woman of an infamous character, and made up of deceit, he looked upon it all as malice or envy, and even quarrelled with the dearest friend he had on earth, for but seeming to doubt of her sincerity. "Have I not proofs both of her love and honour," cried he, "such proofs as never woman but herself ever gave, nor never man but me was ever blessed with? O! She is all charms, both mind and body! Till I knew her, I knew not what real happiness was, and vainly searched for it in various pleasures; but in my dear Syrena is all that's excellent comprised."

            Those who loved him, pitied and lamented his infatuation; and those to whom he was indifferent, ridiculed it. All who knew his circumstances stood amazed, that a man of so fine an understanding in other things, should neglect all opportunities of making his fortune, dissipate the little substance he had left, and devote his whole time to a woman, who, had she been as much an angel, as she was really a devil, had it not in her power either to serve him or herself.

            In the meantime, Syrena was not idle in providing against a change, or more properly speaking, for a change; she liked Mr P–– indeed, but liked interest better; and frequently pretending to go to some or other of her kindred, where till they were married, it was improper he should accompany her, went abroad in hope of meeting with something more to her advantage, than she now began to suspect he could ever be; and continued with him but till she could be better provided for.

            Her expensive way of living, and the pleasure he took in indulging her every wish, together with the shame he found in himself, whenever he attempted to let her know how ill he could afford it, had exhausted his little stock of money in a short time. He then borrowed of all who would lend, and went in debt wherever he could, so that soon he found himself without either money, friends, or credit; shunned by his acquaintance, and in danger of a gaol–this made him very melancholy, but did not make him love the less–he cursed his fate, but blessed the wretch who had undone him–she took notice of the alteration in his countenance, and pressed him in so endearing a manner to let her know the cause, that he at last confessed his misfortunes, concealing nothing from her of the truth; she hid the vexation it gave her, with her accustomed artifice, and said, well my dear, be as patient as you can. I love you not the less for having no estate; and this old creature of a kinsman cannot live for ever, and my six thousand pounds will at least procure you a place.

            From this time, however, she thought of nothing but how to get a new gallant; but none offering their service, she chose rather to remain with him, till he had made away with the last things, that would even purchase a dinner, than go home to her mother, where she must have been put to those straits herself, which he alone at present sustained.

            A gentleman who had been an old friend of Mr P––'s father, hearing of his misfortunes, made him an invitation to his house, which he told him should be to him as his own, till he could get into some employment; but this unhappy and deluded man refused to accept so kind an offer, on Syrena's falling into fits, when he but barely mentioned it; and chose rather to starve with her, than forsake her without her own consent; and sure a greater act of barbarity and ingratitude was never practised, than by this base wretch in still hanging on a man, who to support her was obliged to be guilty of meannesses which his soul on any other occasion would have abhorred; and heaven only knows to what extremes, he might have been driven, had not providence discovered to him her perfidy in too full a manner for all her dissimulation to evade, had she attempted it; but indeed having now run in a manner, the last length she could go with him, she took not any pains about it.

            As he was taking a solitary walk one afternoon in Chelsea Fields, indulging his melancholy contemplations, he met an acquaintance, who would needs make him go into the next house of entertainment; where being seated and discoursing of ordinary affairs, their conversation was interrupted by the loud laughing of some persons in the next room; and their being only a wainscot partition between them, they heard distinctly these words, "By G–d, my dear, if ever fortune throws a rich fool in my way, you shan't want a better commission." This was a woman's voice, and sounded so like Syrena's, that Mr P–– could not forbear growing as red as scarlet; not that he imagined it could be she, whom he had left at home undressed, and hard at work, for she pretended to be a good housewife; but he was enraged that any vile woman, as he perceived this was, by other words he heard her say, should have anything in her like his dear modest creature. The gentleman, who knew not his emotions, cried, "We have got a loving couple near us, I find. Prithee, let's try if we can see who they are." In speaking this, he went to the side of the room, and found a crevice large enough for the eye to take in all that was done within. The fond pair by this time were silent, or what they spoke was in a lower accent, and, indeed, they were otherwise employed, as Mr P–– who going also out of curiosity, saw to his confusion. He not only found the voice, but the clothes and person of the woman, were the same with Syrena's, in fine, 'twas she herself; and in a posture such as he would have stabbed anyone, who should have told him, she could have been in with any other man than himself.

            He was naturally of a warm and sanguine disposition, impatient of injuries, and incapable of reflection in the first moments of his passion: he made but one step from the room he was in to the next, burst open the door, which though locked gave way to the violence he used; drew his sword, and had certainly destroyed them both in the act of shame, had not his friend been quick enough to prevent him, by catching hold of his arm behind. Vardine, for it was he, was ill-prepared for a combat of this kind, but snatched up his sword which lay in the window, and stood on his defence. The people of the house hearing the noise, by this time came into the room, and with the assistance of Mr P––'s friend secured both their swords, and prevented the mischief which must otherwise have happened; with much ado they got Mr P–– out of the room, though not till after he had loaded the vile wanton with all the reproaches her treachery merited. Vardine and she went out of the house together; and she returned no more to Mr P––'s lodgings, a happy riddance, and a day which he has since vowed to celebrate every year, as the most fortunate one, that he had ever seen.

            The next morning he received a letter by a porter, the contents whereof were these.

            Sir,
            Though I think it little worth my while to to demand any satisfaction on the score of the woman you found me with yesterday; yet it would ill become my character, to put up with your forcing into the room where I was, and disturbing my pleasures. I shall therefore expect you will meet me tomorrow morning in the field behind Montague House, to decide with the points of our swords, which of us has been to blame.
            J. Vardine.

            The gentleman who had been with Mr P––, at the discovery of Syrena's falsehood; came to see how he did after this disorder, and was at breakfast with him when this letter was brought. Mr P–– would have concealed the contents, but the other guessing the business, would needs see it; and having read it, "You shall not go." said he. "How! Not go," cried Mr P–– "would you have me posted for a coward?" "Not so," replied the other, "but if you will give me leave to take this letter with me, I will go along with the porter to him, and shall engage to order matters to the satisfaction of you both; which I am sure is much better, than losing your blood in a cause so unworthy of it."

            It was with great difficulty Mr P–– was persuaded; but knowing his friend to be a man who hated a mean thing, as much as himself, he at last consented he should act in it as he thought proper; only bid him be careful of his honour, and his friend assuring him he would be so, went with the porter to the place where the letter had been given to him, and where Vardine still waited his return in expectation of an answer.

            It was a coffee-house, but few people being there, the gentleman had opportunity enough to say what he intended, without interruption. He told him that not having quitted Mr P–– since the skirmish, and happening to rise first, he took the letter instead of him to whom it was directed; and suspecting the purport opened it, and was come to reason with him on the affair, before Mr P–– knew anything of it; and also, if he could, to prevent the fatal consequences which else might possibly ensue. Vardine did not seem displeased in the least at his proceeding; and when they came to argue on the provocation Mr P–– had received, and the almost unparalleled deceit and ingratitude of Syrena, Vardine acknowledged that he could not be expected to act otherwise than he had done; and concluded with saying, that he thought now, that they ought to exchange pardons with each other, for added he, I was prevailed on by the entreaties of that woman to join in the deception put upon Mr P––, in order to draw him in to marry her; and have as much occasion for his forgiveness on that score, as he has of mine for forcing into my room. The friend of Mr P–– then proposed a meeting between them three the same evening, to conclude all animosities over a bottle; the other agreed to it, and Mr P–– at hearing what had passed was perfectly satisfied with the gentleman's conduct, and went with him to the appointment, at the time prefixed, with as much cheerfulness as his circumstances would admit of. All the love he had bore Syrena, while he believed her sincere, was now turned into as great a contempt, and Vardine expressing the same, and protesting never to see her more, added to his satisfaction.

            Thus ended an affair, which though much to the prejudice of Mr P––, had it not been for the prudent management of his friend, might have been much worse, and afforded business for the Old Bailey; and ought to be a warning to all gentlemen how they suffer themselves to be beguiled in the manner he was, or expect sincerity from persons whom they commence an acquaintance with in the street.

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