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Cannot fail of exciting compassion in some readers, though it may move others to laughter

The few remonstrances Miss Betsy would vouchsafe to listen to from Mr. Trueworth, had a much greater effect upon her mind, than her pride, and the excessive homage she expected from her lovers, would suffer to make shew of, or than he himself imagined. She had too much discernment, heedless as she was, not to know he was above any little malicious inuendoes; but, on the contrary, was extremely cautious in regard to the character of whomsoever he spoke; she feared, therefore, he had but too good grounds for the uneasiness he expressed for her continuing a correspondence with Miss Forward; she knew that she had been faulty, and could not be assured she was not still so; and it was more owing to her impatience to be ascertained of the truth, than to any real resentment she had conceived against Mr. Trueworth, that she complied with the invitation of her now suspected friend, and resolved to put the question home to her, concerning her present manner of life, and the means by which she was supported: she had found her removed from the lowest degree of penury and wretchedness, into a state equal to what she could have been mistress of had she been re-established in the favour of her father; and now, for the first time, began to think it strange she should be so, from the mere bounty of a distant relation, to whom in her utmost distress she had never applied, nor even once mentioned in the recital of her melancholy history: 'I will talk to her,' said she to herself; 'watch carefully, not only the replies she makes to what I say, but also her very looks, unperceiving my suspicions; and, if I find the least room to believe what Mr. Trueworth has insinuated, shall pity, but will never see her more.'

In this prudent disposition did she enter the lodgings of Miss Forward; but had no opportunity for the execution of her purpose, some company, which she herself thought, by their behaviour, to be not of the best sort, happening to be just come before her, and departed not till it was time to go to the play. Miss Betsy was more than once about to tell Miss Forward that she had changed her mind, and would not go; but her complaisance, as having been the person who made the first proposal, as often stopped her mouth.

In fine, they went; but the house being very full, and the fellow who had been sent to keep places for them going somewhat too late, they were obliged to content themselves with sitting in the third row. This, at another time, would have been a matter of some mortification to Miss Betsy; but, in the humour she now was, to shew herself was the least of her cares. Never had she entered any place of publick entertainment with so little satisfaction; Mr. Trueworth's words ran very much in her mind; she had lost no part of them; and though she could not bring herself to approve of the freedom he had taken, yet, in her heart, she could not forbear confessing, that his admonitions testified the most zealous and tender care for her reputation; and, if given by any one except a lover, would have demanded more of her thanks than her resentment.

But, alas! those serious considerations were but of short duration: the brilliant audience; the musick; the moving scenes exhibited on the stage; and, above all, the gallantries with which herself and Miss Forward were treated by several gay young gentleman, who, between the acts, presented them with fruits and sweetmeats, soon dissipated all those reflections which it was so much her interest to have cherished, and she once more relapsed into her former self.

Towards the end of the play, there were two rakes of distinction that stuck very close to them, and when it was ended, took the liberty to invite them to sup at a tavern; Miss Betsy started at the motion, but was very well pleased to find Miss Forward shewed an equal dislike to it. 'You will give us leave, then,' cried one of the gentlemen, 'to guard you safe home, ladies?'—'That I think, my dear,' said Miss Forward to Miss Betsy, 'may be granted, for the sake of being protected from the insults of those who may know less how to behave towards our sex.'

Miss Betsy making no opposition, they all four went into a hackney-coach to Miss Forward's lodgings, it being agreed upon between them, that Miss Betsy should be set down there, and take a chair from thence to Mr. Goodman's. Nothing indecent, nor that could be any way shocking to the most strict modesty, being offered during their passage, on their alighting from the coach at Mr. Screener's door, Miss Forward thought, that to ask them to come in would incur no censure from her fair friend, as they had behaved with so much civility and complaisance: accordingly she did so; and they, who expected no less, took each man his lady by the hand, and immediately tripped up stairs.

Miss Betsy did not presently make any offer to go home, because she thought it would appear very odd in her to leave her companion with two strange gentlemen. She little guessed the designs they had in their heads, and doubted not but they would soon take leave; she did not, however, continue in this mistake for many minutes; for one of them drawing Miss Forward to a window, in order to speak to her with more privacy, the other, that he might have the better opportunity to do so, addressed himself to Miss Betsy, 'How killingly handsome you are!' said he, taking her by both her hands, and looking full in her face; 'what a pity you did not shine in the front to-night! By my soul you would have out-dazzled all the titled prudes about you!'

'Pish!' replied she, 'I went to see the play, not to be seen myself.'—'Not to be seen!' cried he; 'why then have you taken all this pains to empty the whole quiver of Cupid's arrows to new-point those charms you have received from nature? Why does the jessamine and the blooming violet play wanton in your hair? Why is the patch with so much art placed on the corner of this ruby lip, and here another to mark out the arched symmetry of the jetty brow? Why does the glittering solitaire hang pendant on the snowy breast, but to attract and allure us poor men into a pleasing ruin?'

Miss Betsy answered this raillery in it's kind; and, as she had a great deal of ready wit, would soon perhaps, had the same strain continued, have left the beau nothing to say for himself: but Miss Forward and the other gentleman having finished what they had to say, coming towards them, put an end to it. 'What do you think?' cried Miss Forward; 'this gentleman swears he won't go out of the house till I give him leave to send for a supper.'—'You may do as you please,' said Miss Betsy; 'but I must be excused from staying to partake of it.' Whether she was really in earnest or not, is not very material; but her refusal was looked upon only as a feint, and they pressed her to tarry in such a manner, that she could not well avoid complying, even though she had been more averse, in effect, than for some time she pretended to be.

The conversation was extremely lively; and, though sprinkled with some double entendres, could not be said to have any thing indecent, or that could raise a blush in the faces of women who were accustomed to much company. Miss Betsy had her share in all the innocent part of what was said, and laughed at that which was less so. But, not to dwell on trifles, she forgot all the cautions given her by Mr. Trueworth, considering not that she was in company with two strange gentlemen, and of a woman whose character was suspected; and, though she had a watch by her side, regarded not how the hours passed on, till she heard the nighly monitor of time, cry, 'Past twelve o'clock, and a cloudy morning!'

After this she would not be prevailed upon to stay, and desired Miss Forward to send somebody for a chair. 'A chair, Madam!' cried that gentleman who, of the two, had been most particular in his addresses to her; 'you cannot, sure, imagine we should suffer you to go home alone at this late hour.'—'I apprehend no great danger,' said she; 'though I confess it is a thing I have not been accustomed to.' He replied, that in his company she should not begin the experiment. On this a coach was ordered. Miss Betsy made some few scruples at committing herself to the conduct of a person so little known to her. 'All acquaintance must have a beginning,' said he; 'the most intimate friends were perfect strangers at first. You may depend on it I am a man of honour, and cannot be capable of an ungenerous action.'

Little more was said on the occasion; and being told a coach was at the door, they took leave of Miss Forward and the other gentleman, and went down stairs. On stepping into the coach, Miss Betsy directed the man where to drive; but the gentleman, unheard by her, ordered him to go to the bagnio in Orange Street. They were no sooner seated, and the windows drawn up to keep out the cold, than Miss Betsy was alarmed with a treatment which her want of consideration made her little expect. Since the gentleman-commoner, no man had ever attempted to take the liberties which her present companion now did: she struggled—she repelled with all her might, the insolent pressures of his lips and hands. 'Is this,' cried she, 'the honour I was to depend upon? Is it thus you prove yourself incapable of an ungenerous action?'—'Accuse me not,' said he, 'till you have reason. I have been bit once, and have made a vow never to settle upon any woman while I live again; but you shall fare never the worse for that, I will make you a handsome present before we part; and, if you can be constant, will allow you six guineas a week.'

She was so confounded at the first mention of this impudent proposal; that she had not the power of interrupting him; but, recovering herself as well as she was able, 'Heavens!' cried she, 'what means all this? What do you take me for?'—'Take you for!' answered he, laughing; 'pr'ythee, dear girl, no more of these airs: I take you for a pretty kind, obliging creature, and such I hope to find you, as soon as we come into a proper place. In the mean time,' continued he, stopping her mouth with kisses, 'none of this affected coyness.'

The fright she was in, aided by disdain and rage, now inspired her with an unusual strength: she broke from him, thrust down the window, and with one breath called him 'Monster! Villain!' with the next screamed out to the coachman to stop; and, finding he regarded not her cries, would have thrown herself out, if not forcibly witheld by the gentleman, who began now to be a little startled at her resolute behaviour. 'What is all this for?' said he: 'would you break your neck, or venture being crushed to pieces by the wheels?'—'Any thing,' cried she, bursting into tears, 'I will venture; suffer any thing, rather than be subjected to insults, such as you have dared to treat me with.'

Though the person by whom Miss Betsy was thus dangerously attacked was a libertine, or, according to the more genteel and modish phrase, a man of pleasure, yet he wanted neither honour, nor good sense: he had looked on Miss Betsy as a woman of the town, by seeing her with one who was so, and her too great freedom in conversation gave him no cause to alter his opinion; but the manner in which she had endeavoured to rebuff his more near approaches, greatly staggered him. He knew not what to think, but remained in silent cogitation for some minutes; and, though he held her fast clasped round the waist, it was only to prevent her from attempting the violence she had threatened, not to offer any towards her. 'Is it possible,' said he, after this pause, 'that you are virtuous?'—'I call Heaven to witness,' answered she, with a voice faltering through the excess of terror and indignation, 'that I never have entertained one thought that was not strictly so! that I detest and scorn those wretched creatures of the number of whom you imagine me to be one; and that I would sooner die the worst of deaths, than live with infamy! Yes, Sir, be assured,' continued she, gathering more courage, 'that whatever appearances may be this fatal night against me, I am of a family of some consideration in the world, and am blessed with a fortune, which sets me above the low temptations of designing men.'

As she had ended these words, they came to the bagnio; and, the coach immediately stopping, two or three waiters came running to open the door; on which Miss Betsy, more terrified than ever, shrieked in a most piteous manner; 'O God!' cried she, 'What's here? Where am I? What will become of me?' and, at that instant recollecting that no help was near; that she was in the power of a man whose aim was her eternal ruin; and that it was by her own indiscretion alone this mischief had fallen on her; with so overcome with the dread, the shame, the horror, as she then supposed, of her inevitable fate, that she was very near falling into a swoon.

The gentleman discovering, by the light of the lamps at the bagnio door, the condition she was in, was truly touched with it. 'Retire,' said he hastily to the fellows, 'we do not want you.' Then throwing himself on his knees before her, 'Let this posture, Madam,' continued he, 'obtain your pardon; and, at the same time, ease you of all apprehensions on my score.'—'May I believe you?' said she, still weeping. 'You may,' replied he. Then rising, and placing himself on the seat opposite to her, 'I love my pleasures, and think it no crime to indulge the appetites of nature. I am charmed with the kind free woman, but I honour and revere the truly virtuous; and it is a maxim with me never to attempt the violation of innocence. These, Madam, are my principles in regard to your sex: but, to convince you farther—Here, fellow,' continued he to the coachman, who was walking backwards and forwards at some distance, 'get up upon your box, and drive where you were first directed.'

Miss Betsy acknowledged the generosity of this behaviour; and, on his asking by what accident it had happened, that he found her in company with a woman of Miss Forward's character, she told him ingenuously the truth, that they knew each other when children in the country; but that she had not seen her more than three times since their coming to London, and was entirely ignorant of her conduct from that time.

He then took the liberty of reminding her, that a young lady more endangered her reputation by an acquaintance of one woman of ill fame, than by receiving the visits of twenty men, though professed libertines. To which she replied, that for the future she would be very careful what company she kept of both sexes.

This was the sum of the conversation that passed between them during their little stage to Mr. Goodman's; where being safely arrived, after having seen her within the doors, he saluted her with a great deal of respect, and took his leave.