went away from my mistress."

Upon the whole of the discourse, Amy got out of him what condition he
was in and how he lived, upon her promise to him that if ever she came
to England, and should see her old mistress, she should not let her know
that he was alive. "Alas, sir!" says Amy, "I may never come to see
England again as long as I live; and if I should, it would be ten
thousand to one whether I shall see my old mistress, for how should I
know which way to look for her, or what part of England she may be
in?--not I," says she. "I don't so much as know how to inquire for her;
and if I should," says Amy, "ever be so happy as to see her, I would not
do her so much mischief as to tell her where you were, sir, unless she
was in a condition to help herself and you too." This farther deluded
him, and made him entirely open in his conversing with her. As to his
own circumstances, he told her she saw him in the highest preferment he
had arrived to, or was ever like to arrive to; for, having no friends or
acquaintance in France, and, which was worse, no money, he never
expected to rise; that he could have been made a lieutenant to a troop
of light horse but the week before, by the favour of an officer in the
_gens d'armes_ who was his friend, but that he must have found eight
thousand livres to have paid for it to the gentleman who possessed it,
and had leave given him to sell. "But where could I get eight thousand
livres," says he, "that have never been master of five hundred livres
ready money at a time since I came into France?"

"Oh dear, sir!" says Amy, "I am very sorry to hear you say so. I fancy
if you once got up to some preferment, you would think of my old
mistress again, and do something for her. Poor lady," says Amy, "she
wants it, to be sure;" and then she falls a-crying again. "It is a sad
thing indeed," says she, "that you should be so hard put to it for
money, when you had got a friend to recommend you, and should lose it
for want of money." "Ay, so it was, Amy, indeed," says he; "but what can
a stranger do that has neither money or friends?" Here Amy puts in again
on my account. "Well," says she, "my poor mistress has had the loss,
though she knows nothing of it. Oh dear! how happy it would have been!
To be sure, sir, you would have helped her all you could." "Ay," says
he, "Amy, so I would with all my heart; and even as I am, I would send
her some relief, if I thought she wanted it, only that then letting h