Даниэль Дефо - Roxana

This Conversation did not answer Amy’s End at-all, because it did not secure the Girl from pursuing her Design of hunting me out; and tho’ my indefatigable Friend the QUAKER, amus’d her three or four Days, yet I had such Notice of it at last, that I thought fit to come away from Tunbridge upon it, and where to go, I knew not; but, in short , I went to a little Village upon Epping-Forest , call’d Woodford , and took Lodgings in a Private House, where I liv’d retir’d about six Weeks, till I thought she might be tir’d of her Search, and have given me over.

Here I receiv’d an Account from my trusty QUAKER, that the Wench had really been at Tunbridge ; had found out my Lodgings; and had told her Tale there in a most dismal Tone; that she had follow’d us as she thought, to London ; but the QUAKER had answer’d her, That she knew nothing of it, which was indeed true; and had admonish’d her to be easie, and not hunt after People of such Fashion as we were, as if we were Thieves; that she might be assur’d, that since I was not willing to see her, I wou’d not be forc’d to it; and treating me thus wou’d effectually disoblige me: And with such Discourses as these she quieted her; and she ( the QUAKER) added , that she hop’d I shou’d not be troubl’d much more with her.

It was in this time that Amy gave me the History of her Greenwich Voyage, when she spoke of drowning and killing the Girl, in so serious a manner, and with such an apparent Resolution of doing it, that, as I said , put me in a Rage with her, so that I effectually turn’d her away from me, as I have said above ; and she was gone; nor did she so much as tell me whither, or which Way she was gone; on the other-hand, when I came to reflect on it, that now I had neither Assistant or Confident to speak to, or receive the least Information from, my Friend the QUAKER excepted , it made me very uneasie.

I waited, and expected, and wonder’d, from Day to Day, still thinking Amy wou’d one time or other, think a little, and come again, or at least , let me hear of her; but for ten Days together I heard nothing of her; I was so impatient, that I got neither Rest by Day, or Sleep by Night, and what to do I knew not; I durst not go to Town to the QUAKER’S, for fear of meeting that vexatious Creature, my Girl , and I cou’d get no Intelligence, where I was; so I got my Spouse, upon Pretence of wanting her Company, to take the Coach one Day, and fetch my good QUAKER to me.

When I had her, I durst ask her no Questions, nor hardly knew which End of the Business to begin to talk of; but of her own accord she told me , that the Girl had been three or four times haunting her, for News from me; and that she had been so troublesome, that she had been oblig’d to show herself a little angry with her, and at last, told her plainly , that she need give herself no Trouble in searching after me, by her means; for she ( the QUAKER) wou’d not tell her, if she knew; upon which she refrain’d a-while: But on the other-hand, she told me , it was not safe for me to send my own Coach for her to come in; for she had some Reason to believe, that she , ( my Daughter ) watch’d her Door Night and Day, nay , and watch’d her too every time she went in and out; for she was so bent upon a Discovery, that she spar’d no Pains; and she believ’d she had taken a Lodging very near their House, for that Purpose.

I cou’d hardly give her a Hearing of all this, for my Eagerness to ask for Amy ; but I was confounded when she told me she had heard nothing of her; ’tis impossible to express the anxious Thoughts that rowl’d about in my Mind, and continually perplex’d me about her; particularly, I reproach’d myself with my Rashness, in turning away so faithful a Creature, that for so many Years had not only been a Servant, but an Agent; and not only an Agent, but a Friend, and a faithful Friend too.

Then I consider’d too, that Amy knew all the Secret History of my Life; had been in all the Intriegues of it, and been a Party in both Evil and Good, and at best, there was no Policy in it; that as it was very ungenerous and unkind, to run Things to such an Extremity with her, and for an Occasion too, in which all the Fault she was guilty of, was owing to her Excess of Care for my Safety; so it must be only her steddy Kindness to me, and an excess of Generous Friendship for me, that shou’d keep her from ill-using me in return for it; which ill-using me was enough in her Power, and might be my utter Undoing.

These Thoughts perplex’d me exceedingly; and what Course to take, I really did not know; I began indeed, to give Amy quite over, for she had now been gone above a Fortnight; and as she had taken away all her Cloaths, and her Money too, which was not a little , and so had no Occasion of that kind, to come any-more, so she had not left any word where she was gone, or to which Part of the World I might send to hear of her.

And I was troubl’d on another Account too, viz . That my Spouse and I too had resolv’d to do very handsomely for Amy , without considering what she might have got another way at-all; but we had said nothing of it to her; and so I thought, as she had not known what was likely to fall in her way, she had not the Influence of that Expectation to make her come back.

Upon the whole, the Perplexity of this Girl, who hunted me, as if, like a Hound , she had had a hot Scent, but was now at a Fault; I say , that Perplexity, and this other Part, of Amy being gone, issued in this, I resolv’d to be gone, and go over to Holland; there I believ’d, I shou’d be at rest: So I took Occasion one-Day to tell my Spouse, that I was afraid he might take it ill that I had amus’d him thus long, and that, at last , I doubted [374] doubted : feared. I was not with-Child; and that since it was so, our Things being pack’d-up, and all in order for going to Holland , I wou’d go away now, when he pleas’d.

My Spouse, who was perfectly easie, whether in going or staying, left it all entirely to me; so I consider’d of it, and began to prepare again for my Voyage; but alas! I was irresolute to the last Degree; I was, for want of Amy , destitute; I had lost my Right-Hand; she was my Steward, gather’d in my Rents, I mean my Interest-Money , and kept my Accompts, and, in a word , did all my Business; and without her, indeed , I knew not how to go away, nor how to stay: But an Accident thrust itself in here, and that even in Amy’s Conduct too, which frighted me away, and without her too, in the utmost Horror and Confusion.

I have related how my faithful Friend the QUAKER, was come to me, and what Account she gave me of her being continually haunted by my Daughter; and that, as she said , she watch’d her very Door, Night and Day; the Truth was , she had set a SPY to watch so effectually, that she ( the QUAKER) neither went in or out, but she had Notice of it.

This was too evident, when the next Morning after she came to me (for I kept her all-Night) to my unspeakable Surprize, I saw a Hackney-Coach stop at the Door where I lodg’d, and saw her (my Daughter) in the Coach all-alone: It was a very good Chance in the middle of a bad one, that my Husband had taken out the Coach that very Morning, and was gone to London ; as for me, I had neither Life or Soul left in me; I was so confounded, I knew not what to do, or to say.

My happy Visitor had more Presence of Mind than I; and ask’d me , If I had made no Acquaintance among the Neighbours? I told her , Yes, there was a Lady lodg’d two Doors off, that I was very intimate with; but hast thou no Way out backward to go to her? says she : Now it happen’d there was a Back-Door in the Garden, by which we usually went and came to and from the House; so I told her of it: Well, well , says she, Go out and make a Visit then, and leave the rest to me : Away I run; told the Lady, (for I was very free there) that I was a Widow to-Day, my Spouse being gone to London , so I came not to visit her, but to dwell with her that Day; because also, our Landlady had got Strangers come from London : So having fram’d this orderly LYE, I pull’d some Work out of my Pocket, and added , I did not come to be Idle.