t, for the rest, would pay her as soon as
possible. But my distress, being favourable to her view, only stiffened
her the more.

She told me, very cooly, that "she was indeed sorry for my misfortunes,
but that she must do herself justice, though it would go to the very
heart of her to send such a tender young creature to prison...." At the
word "prison!" every drop of my blood chilled, and my fright acted so
strongly upon me, that, turning as pale and faint as a criminal at the
first sight of his place of execution, I was on the point of swooning.
My landlady, who wanted only to terrify me to a certain point, and not
to throw me into a state of body inconsistent with her designs upon it,
began to sooth me again, and told me, in a tone composed to more pity
and gentleness, that "it would be my own fault, if she was forced to
proceed to such extremities; but she believed there was a friend to be
found in the world, who would make up matters to both our satisfactions,
and that she would bring him to drink tea with us that very afternoon,
when she hoped we would come to a right understanding in our affairs."
To all this, not a word of answer; I sat mute, confounded, terrified.

Mrs. Jones, however, judging rightly that it was time to strike while
the impressions were so strong upon me, left me to myself and to all
the terrors of an imagination, wounded to death by the idea of going to
prison, and, from a principle of self-preservation, snatching at every
glimpse of redemption from it.

In this situation I sat near half an hour, swallowed up in grief and
despair, when my landlady came in, and observing a death-like dejection
in my countenance, still in pursuance of her plan, put on a false pity,
and bidding me be of good heart: "Things," she said, "would be but
my own friend"; and closed with telling me "she had brought a very
honourable gentleman to drink tea with me, who would give me the best
advice how to get rid of all my troubles." Upon which, without waiting
for a reply, she goes out, and returns with this very honourable
gentleman, whose very honourable procuress she had been, on this, as
well as other occasions.

The gentleman, on his entering the room, made me a very civil bow, which
I had scarce strength, or presence of mind enough to return a curtsey
to; when the landlady, taking upon her to do all the honours of the
first interview (for I had never, that I remember, seen the gentleman
before), sets a chair f