had not spent my money
so fast as to want any from him, yet I often wrote also to let him know
I was alive. I had left directions in Lancashire, so that I had these
letters, which he sent, conveyed to me; and during my recess at St.
Jones's received a very obliging letter from him, assuring me that his
process for a divorce from his wife went on with success, though he met
with some difficulties in it that he did not expect.

I was not displeased with the news that his process was more tedious
than he expected; for though I was in no condition to have him yet, not
being so foolish to marry him when I knew myself to be with child by
another man, as some I know have ventured to do, yet I was not willing
to lose him, and, in a word, resolved to have him if he continued in
the same mind, as soon as I was up again; for I saw apparently I should
hear no more from my husband; and as he had all along pressed to marry,
and had assured me he would not be at all disgusted at it, or ever
offer to claim me again, so I made no scruple to resolve to do it if I
could, and if my other friend stood to his bargain; and I had a great
deal of reason to be assured that he would stand to it, by the letters
he wrote to me, which were the kindest and most obliging that could be.

I now grew big, and the people where I lodged perceived it, and began
to take notice of it to me, and, as far as civility would allow,
intimated that I must think of removing. This put me to extreme
perplexity, and I grew very melancholy, for indeed I knew not what
course to take. I had money, but no friends, and was like to have a
child upon my hands to keep, which was a difficulty I had never had
upon me yet, as the particulars of my story hitherto make appear.

In the course of this affair I fell very ill, and my melancholy really
increased my distemper; my illness proved at length to be only an ague,
but my apprehensions were really that I should miscarry. I should not
say apprehensions, for indeed I would have been glad to miscarry, but I
could never be brought to entertain so much as a thought of
endeavouring to miscarry, or of taking any thing to make me miscarry; I
abhorred, I say, so much as the thought of it.

However, speaking of it in the house, the gentlewoman who kept the
house proposed to me to send for a midwife. I scrupled it at first,
but after some time consented to it, but told her I had no particular
acquaintance with any midwife, and so l