was. He asked to see her, apologized, and said his
daughter had been out several holidays, without his knowing where she
had been. My mother said it was very improper, and that he ought. A
friend was with us in the room, and I sat there reading and trembling.
My mother remarked to the lady, "I hope that girl is not going wrong,
she is very good looking." Mother asked me to go out of the room, then
had Charlotte up, and lectured her; afterwards Charlotte told me for the
first time, that her father was annoyed because she would not marry a
young man.

A young man had called at our house several times to see her; she saw
him once and evaded doing so afterwards. He was the son of a well-to-do
baker, a few miles from Charlotte's home, and wished to marry her; his
father was not expected to live, and the young man said he would marry
her directly the father died. Her mother was mad at her refusing such
a chance. Charlotte showed me his letters, which then came, and we
arranged together the replies.

She went home, and came back with eyes swollen with crying, some one
had written anonymously, to say she had been seen at the wax-works with
a young man, evidently of position above her, and had been seen walking
with a young man. The mother threatened to have a doctor examine her
to see if she had been doing anything wrong, no one seemed to have
suspected me; her father would have her home, her mother had had
suspicion of her for some time, "The sooner you marry young Brown the
better, he will have a good business, and keeps a horse and chaise,
you will never have such a chance again, and it will prevent you going
wrong, even if you have not already gone wrong," said her mother.

It was a rainy night, I had met her on her return, and we both stood an
hour under an umbrella, talking and crying, she saying, "I knew I should
be ruined; if I marry he will find me out, if I don't they will lead me
such a life; oh! what shall I do!" We fucked twice in the rain against
a wall, putting down the umbrella to do it. Afterwards we met at the
dressmaker's, talked over our misery and cried, and fucked, and cried
again. Then it was nothing but worry, she crying at her future, I
wondering if I should be found out; still with all our misery, we never
failed to fuck if there was a clear five minutes before us. Then her
mother wrote to say that old Brown was dead, and her father meant to
take her away directly; she refused, the father came, saw m