to visit some of my friends, and I think thou art not
very civil in following me hither.

_Girl._ I came in hopes of a discovery in my great affair which you know
of.

_Qu._ Thou cam'st wildly, indeed; I counsel thee to go back again, and
be easy; I shall keep my word with thee, that I would not meddle in it,
or give thee any account, if I knew it, unless I had her orders.

[Illustration: ROXANA'S DAUGHTER AND THE QUAKER

_Here the girl importuned her again with the utmost earnestness, and
cried bitterly_]

_Girl._ If you knew my distress you could not be so cruel.

_Qu._ Thou hast told me all thy story, and I think it might be more
cruelty to tell thee than not to tell thee; for I understand she is
resolved not to see thee, and declares she is not thy mother. Will'st
thou be owned where thou hast no relation?

_Girl._ Oh, if I could but speak to her, I would prove my relation to
her so that she could not deny it any longer.

_Qu._ Well, but thou canst not come to speak with her, it seems.

_Girl._ I hope you will tell me if she is here. I had a good account
that you were come out to see her, and that she sent for you.

_Qu._ I much wonder how thou couldst have such an account. If I had come
out to see her, thou hast happened to miss the house, for I assure thee
she is not to be found in this house.

Here the girl importuned her again with the utmost earnestness, and
cried bitterly, insomuch that my poor Quaker was softened with it, and
began to persuade me to consider of it, and, if it might consist with my
affairs, to see her, and hear what she had to say; but this was
afterwards. I return to the discourse.

The Quaker was perplexed with her a long time; she talked of sending
back the coach, and lying in the town all night. This, my friend knew,
would be very uneasy to me, but she durst not speak a word against it;
but on a sudden thought, she offered a bold stroke, which, though
dangerous if it had happened wrong, had its desired effect.

She told her that, as for dismissing her coach, that was as she pleased,
she believed she would not easily get a lodging in the town; but that as
she was in a strange place, she would so much befriend her, that she
would speak to the people of the house, that if they had room, she might
have a lodging there for one night, rather than be forced back to London
before she was free to go.

This was a cunning, though a dangerous step, and it succeeded
accordingly, for it