n
some measure, induce him to pity you, and it will give me relief in
dying.'

'Never, child,' replied I, 'never will I be brought to acknowledge my
daughter a prostitute; for tho' the world may look upon your offence
with scorn, let it be mine to regard it as a mark of credulity, not of
guilt. My dear, I am no way miserable in this place, however dismal it
may seem, and be assured that while you continue to bless me by living,
he shall never have my consent to make you more wretched by marrying
another.'

After the departure of my daughter, my fellow prisoner, who was by
at this interview, sensibly enough expostulated upon my obstinacy, in
refusing a submission, which promised to give me freedom. He observed,
that the rest of my family was not to be sacrificed to the peace of one
child alone, and she the only one who had offended me. 'Beside,' added
he, 'I don't know if it be just thus to obstruct the union of man and
wife, which you do at present, by refusing to consent to a match which
you cannot hinder, but may render unhappy.'

'Sir,' replied I, 'you are unacquainted with the man that oppresses
us. I am very sensible that no submission I can make could procure me
liberty even for an hour. I am told that even in this very room a debtor
of his, no later than last year, died for want. But though my submission
and approbation could transfer me from hence, to the most beautiful
apartment he is possessed of; yet I would grant neither, as something
whispers me that it would be giving a sanction to adultery. While my
daughter lives, no other marriage of his shall ever be legal in my
eye. Were she removed, indeed, I should be the basest of men, from any
resentment of my own, to attempt putting asunder those who wish for an
union. No, villain as he is, I should then wish him married, to prevent
the consequences of his future debaucheries. But now should I not be
the most cruel of all fathers, to sign an Instrument which must send my
child to the grave, merely to avoid a prison myself; and thus to escape
one pang, break my child's heart with a thousand?'

He acquiesced in the justice of this answer, but could not avoid
observing, that he feared my daughter's life was already too much wasted
to keep me long a prisoner. 'However,' continued he, 'though you refuse
to submit to the nephew, I hope you have no objections to laying your
case before the uncle, who has the first character in the kingdom for
every thing that is ju