r she was satisfied she could so
convince me that she was my own child, that I would not deny it; and she
was sure I was so tender and compassionate, I would not let her perish
after I was convinced that she was my own flesh and blood; and in saying
she would visit all the airing-places in England, she reckoned them all
up by name, and began with Tunbridge, the very place I was gone to; then
reckoning up Epsom, North Hall, Barnet, Newmarket, Bury, and at last,
the Bath; and with this she took her leave.

My faithful agent the Quaker failed not to write to me immediately; but
as she was a cunning as well as an honest woman, it presently occurred
to her that this was a story which, whether true or false, was not very
fit to come to my husband's knowledge; that as she did not know what I
might have been, or might have been called in former times, and how far
there might have been something or nothing in it, so she thought if it
was a secret I ought to have the telling it myself; and if it was not,
it might as well be public afterwards as now; and that, at least, she
ought to leave it where she found it, and not hand it forwards to
anybody without my consent. These prudent measures were inexpressibly
kind, as well as seasonable; for it had been likely enough that her
letter might have come publicly to me, and though my husband would not
have opened it, yet it would have looked a little odd that I should
conceal its contents from him, when I had pretended so much to
communicate all my affairs.

In consequence of this wise caution, my good friend only wrote me in few
words, that the impertinent young woman had been with her, as she
expected she would; and that she thought it would be very convenient
that, if I could spare Cherry, I would send her up (meaning Amy),
because she found there might be some occasion for her.

As it happened, this letter was enclosed to Amy herself, and not sent
by the way I had at first ordered; but it came safe to my hands; and
though I was alarmed a little at it, yet I was not acquainted with the
danger I was in of an immediate visit from this teasing creature till
afterwards; and I ran a greater risk, indeed, than ordinary, in that I
did not send Amy up under thirteen or fourteen days, believing myself as
much concealed at Tunbridge as if I had been at Vienna.

But the concern of my faithful spy (for such my Quaker was now, upon the
mere foot of her own sagacity), I say, her concern for me, w