rried, which was not then quite out
of sight, she let him easily know whereabouts he rode, only she could
not name the captain. However, he gave her such directions afterwards
that, in short, Amy, who was an indefatigable girl, found him out. It
seems he had not changed his name, not supposing any inquiry would be
made after him here; but, I say, Amy found him out, and went boldly to
his quarters, asked for him, and he came out to her immediately.

I believe I was not more confounded at my first seeing him at Meudon
than he was at seeing Amy. He started and turned pale as death. Amy
believed if he had seen her at first, in any convenient place for so
villainous a purpose, he would have murdered her.

But he started, as I say above, and asked in English, with an
admiration, "What are you?" "Sir," says she, "don't you know me?"
"Yes," says he, "I knew you when you were alive; but what are you
now?--whether ghost or substance I know not." "Be not afraid, sir, of
that," says Amy; "I am the same Amy that I was in your service, and do
not speak to you now for any hurt, but that I saw you accidentally
yesterday ride among the soldiers; I thought you might be glad to hear
from your friends at London." "Well, Amy," says he then (having a little
recovered himself), "how does everybody do? What! is your mistress
here?" Thus they begun:--

_Amy._ My mistress, sir, alas! not the mistress you mean; poor
gentlewoman, you left her in a sad condition.

_Gent._ Why, that's true, Amy; but it could not be helped; I was in a
sad condition myself.

_Amy._ I believe so, indeed, sir, or else you had not gone away as you
did; for it was a very terrible condition you left them all in, that I
must say.

_Gent._ What did they do after I was gone?

_Amy._ Do, sir! Very miserably, you may be sure. How could it be
otherwise?

_Gent._ Well, that's true indeed; but you may tell me, Amy, what became
of them, if you please; for though I went so away, it was not because I
did not love them all very well, but because I could not bear to see the
poverty that was coming upon them, and which it was not in my power to
help. What could I do?

_Amy._ Nay, I believe so indeed; and I have heard my mistress say many
times she did not doubt but your affliction was as great as hers,
almost, wherever you were.

_Gent._ Why, did she believe I was alive, then?

_Amy._ Yes, sir; she always said she believed you were alive, because
she thought she should ha