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The author is under some apprehensions, will not be quite pleasing to the humour of every reader

It is certain that Mr. Trueworth, at the time of his writing his last letter to Miss Betsy, was fully determined to go into the country; and was already beginning to make such preparations as he found necessary for his journey, when an accident of a very singular nature put a sudden stop to them, and to his intentions.

He was one day just dressed, and going out, in order to dine with some company, (for he now chose to be as little alone as possible) when one of his servants delivered a letter to him, which he said was brought by a porter, who waited below for an answer. As the superscription was in a woman's hand, and he was not accustomed to receive any billets from that sex, he broke it open with a kind of greedy curiosity, and found in it these lines.

'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.

Sir,

I am a woman of fortune, family, and an unblemished character; very young, and, most people allow, not disagreeable: you have done me the greatest injury in the world without knowing it; but I take you to be more a man of honour than not to be willing to make what reparation is in your power. If the good opinion I have of you does not deceive me, you will readily accept this challenge, and not fail to meet me about eleven o'clock in the morning, at General Tatten's bench, opposite Rosamond's Pond in St. James's Park; there to hear such interrogatories as I shall think fit to make you; and on your sincere answer to which depends the whole future peace, if not the life of her, who at present can only subscribe herself, in the greatest confusion, Sir, your unfortunate and impatient,

Incognita.'

Mr. Trueworth was a good deal surprized; but had no occasion to consult long with himself in what manner it would become a man of his years to behave in such an adventure, and therefore sat down and immediately wrote an answer in these terms.

'To the fair Incognita.

Madam,

Though a challenge from an unknown antagonist might be rejected without any danger of incurring the imputation of cowardice, and, besides, as the combat to which I am invited is to be that of words, in which your sex are generally allowed to excel, I have not any sort of chance of overcoming; yet, to shew that I dare encounter a fine woman at any weapon, and shall not repine at being foiled, will not fail to give you the triumph you desire; and to that end will wait on you exactly at the time and place mentioned in yours: till when, you may rest satisfied that I am, with the greatest impatience, the obliging Incognita's most devoted servant,

C. Trueworth.'

Though Mr. Trueworth had not only heard of, but also experienced, when on his travels abroad, some adventures of a parallel nature with this; yet, as it never had entered his head that the English ladies took this method of introducing themselves to the acquaintance of those they were pleased to favour, the challenge of the Incognita—who she was—where she had seen him—what particular action of his had merited her good graces—and a thousand other conjectures, all tending to the same object, very much engrossed his mind. Indeed, he was glad to encourage any thoughts which served to drive those of Miss Betsy thence; whose idea, in spite of all his endeavours, and her supposed unworthiness, would sometimes intervene, and poison the sweets of his most jovial moments among his friends.

His curiosity (for it cannot be said was as yet instigated by a warmer passion) rendered him, however, very careful not to suffer the hour mentioned in the lady's letter to escape: but though he was at the place somewhat before the time, she was the first, and already waited his approach. As he turned by the corner of the pond, he began to reflect, that as she had given him no signal whereby she might be known, he might possibly mistake for his Incognita some other, whom chance might have directed to the bench; and was somewhat at a loss how to accost her in such a manner, as that the compliment might not make him be looked upon as rude or made, by a person who had no reason to expect it from him.

But the fair lady, who, it is likely, was also sensible she had been a little wanting in this part of the assignation, soon eased him of the suspense he was in, by rising from her seat, as he drew near, and saluting him with these words, 'How perfectly obliging,' said she, 'is this punctuality! It almost flatters me I shall have no reason to repent the step I have taken.'—'A person who is injured,' replied Mr. Trueworth, 'has doubtless a right to complain; and if I have, though ever so unwarily, been guilty of any wrong, cannot be too hasty, nor too zealous, in the reparation: be pleased, therefore, Madam, to let me know the nature of my offence, and be assured that the wishes of my whole heart shall be to expiate it.'

In concluding these words, one of her gloves being off, he took hold of her hand, and kissed it with either a real or a seeming warmth. 'Take care what you say,' cried she, 'lest I exact more from you than is in your power to perform: but let us sit down,' pursued she, suffering him still to keep her hand in his, 'and begin to fulfil the promise you have made, by satisfying me in some points I have to ask, with the same sincerity as you would answer Heaven.'—'Be assured I will,' said he, putting her hand a second time to his mouth; 'and this shall be the book on which I will swear to every article.'

'First, then,' demanded she, 'are you married, or contracted?'—'Neither, by all that's dear!' said he. 'Have you no attachment,' resumed she, 'to any particular lady, that should hinder your engaging with another?'-'Not any, upon my honour!' answered he.

I should before now have acquainted my reader, that the lady was not only masqued, but also close muffled in her hood; that Mr. Trueworth could discover no part even of the side of her face, which, growing weary of this examination, he took an opportunity to complain of. 'Why this unkind reserve, my charming incognita?' said he: 'I have heard of penitents who, while confessing crimes they were ashamed of, kept their faces hid; but I believe there never was a confessor who concealed himself—permit me to see to whom I am laying open my heart, and I shall do it with pleasure.'—'That cannot be,' answered she, 'even for the very reason you have alledged: I have something to confess to you, would sink me into the earth with shame, did you behold the mouth that utters it. In a word, I love you! and after having told you so, can you expect I will reveal myself?'—'Else how can I return the bounty as I ought,' cried he, 'or you be assured you have not lavished your favours on an insensible or ungrateful heart?'

'Time may do much,' said she; 'a longer and more free conversation with you may perhaps embolden me to make a full discovery of my face to you, as I have already done of my heart.' Mr. Trueworth then told her, that the place they were in would allow but very few freedoms; and added, that if he were really so happy as she flattered him he was, she must permit him to wait on her, where he might have an opportunity of testifying the sense he had of so unhoped, and as yet so unmerited, a blessing.

'Alas!' cried she, 'I am quite a novice in assignations of this sort—have so entire a dependance on your honour, that I dare meet you any where, provided you give me your solemn promise not to take any measures for knowing who I am, nor make any attempts to oblige me to unmask, till I have assumed courage enough to become visible of my own free will.'

Mr. Trueworth readily enough gave her the promise she exacted from him, not at all doubting but he should be easily able to find means to engage her consent for the satisfaction of his curiosity in these points. 'Well, then,' said she, 'it belongs to you to name a place proper for these secret interviews.'

On this, after a little pause, he answered, that since she judged it inconvenient for him to wait upon her at home, or any other place where she was known, he would be about the close of day at a certain coffee-house, which he named to her—'Where,' continued he, 'I will attend your commands; and on your condescending to stop at the door in a hackney-coach, will immediately come down and conduct you to a house secure from all danger of a discovery.' She hesitated not a moment to comply with his proposal; yet, in the same breath she did so, affected to be under some fears, which before she had not made the least shew of—said, she hoped he would not abuse the confidence she reposed in him—that he would take no advantage of the weakness she had shewn—that though she loved him with the most tender passion, and could not have lived without revealing it to him, yet her inclinations were innocent, and pure as those of a vestal virgin—and a great deal more stuff of the like sort; which, though Mr. Trueworth could scarce refrain from smiling at, yet he answered; with all the seriousness imaginable—'I should be unworthy, Madam, of the affection you honour me with, were I capable of acting towards you in a manner unbecoming of you, or of myself; and you may depend I shall endeavour to regulate my desires, so as to render them agreeable to yours.'

After some farther discourse of the like nature, she rose up and took her leave, insisting at parting, that he should not attempt to follow her, or take any method to find out which way she went; which injunction he punctually obeyed, not stirring from the bench till she was quite out of sight.

This adventure prodigiously amused him; never, in his whole life, had he met with any thing he knew so little how to judge of. She had nothing of the air of a woman of the town; and, besides, he knew it was not the interest of those who made a trade of their favours, to dispense them in the manner she seemed to intend; nor could he think her a person of the condition and character her letter intimated. He could not conceive, that any of those he was acquainted with, would run such lengths for the gratification of their passion, especially for a man who had not taken the least pains to inspire it. Sometimes he imagined it was a trick put upon him, in order to make trial how far his vanity would extend in boasting of it; it even came into his head, that Miss Betsy herself might get somebody to personate the amorous incognita, for no other purpose than to divert herself, and disappoint his high-raised expectation: but this last conjecture dwelt not long upon him; he had heard she now entertained another lover, which whom she was very much taken up, and, consequently, would not give herself so much trouble about one who had entirely quitted her. In fine, he knew not what to think: as he could not tell how to believe he had made such an impression upon any woman, without knowing it, as the incognita pretended; he was apt to imagine he should neither see nor hear any more of her. This uncertainty, however, employed his mind the whole day; and he was no less impatient for the proof, than he would have been, if actually in love with this invisible mistress.

The wished-for hour at last arrived; and he waited not long before he was eased of one part of his suspense, by being told a lady in a hackney-coach enquired for him: he was extremely pleased to find, at last, he had not been imposed upon by a trick of any of his frolicksome companions, and immediately flew to the coach-side; where, seeing it was indeed his incognita, he jumped directly in, with a transport which doubtless was very agreeable to her.

Though he had often heard some gentlemen speak of houses, where two persons of different sexes might at any time be received, and have the privilege of entertaining each other with all the freedom and privacy they could desire; yet, as he had never been accustomed to intrigues of this nature, and thought he should have no occasion to make use of such places, he had not given himself the trouble of asking where they might be found; therefore he had now no other recourse than either a tavern or a bagnio, the latter of which he looked upon, for more reasons than one, as the most commodious of the two; so ordered the coachman to drive to one in Silver Street: he excused himself, at the same time, to the lady, for not having been able to provide a better asylum for her reception; but she appeared perfectly content—told him she had put herself under his care—relied upon his honour and discretion, and left all to his direction.

Being come into the bagnio, they were shewn into a handsome large room, with a bed-chamber in it. Mr. Trueworth had his eye on every thing in an instant; and finding all was right, ordered a supper to be prepared, and then told the waiter he would dispense with his attendance till it was ready. As soon as he found himself alone with his incognita, 'Now, my angel,' said he, embracing her, 'I have an opportunity to thank you for the affection you have flattered me with the hopes of; but, at the same time, must complain of the little proofs you give me of it: the greatest stranger to your heart would be allowed the privilege of a salute; yet I am denied the privilege of touching those dear lips which have denounced my happiness.'—'Do not reproach me,' answered she, 'with denying what is not yet in my power to grant: I cannot let you see my face; and you have promised not to force me.'—'I have,' replied he, 'but that promise binds me not from indulging my impatient wishes with things you have not stipulated: your neck, your breasts, are free, and those I will be revenged upon.' With these words he took some liberties with her, which may better be conceived than described!—she but faintly resisted; and, perhaps, would have permitted him to take greater, thus masked; but the discovery of her face was what he chiefly wanted: 'You might, at least,' cried he, 'oblige me with a touch of those lovely lips I am forbid to gaze upon; here is a dark recess,' continued he, pointing to the inner-room, 'will save your blushes.' He then raised her from the chair; and, drawing her gently towards the door, sung in a very harmonious voice, this stanza—

'Away with this idle, this scrupulous fear;

For a kiss in the dark,

Cry'd the amorous spark,

'There is nothing, no, nothing too dear!'

Having led her into the chamber, and seated her on the bed, which happened to be so disposed that no gleam of light came upon it from the candles in the next room, 'Now, my charmer,' said he, taking hold of her mask, 'you have no excuse for keeping on this invidious cloud.'—'How impossible it is,' answered she, letting it fall into his hands, 'to refuse you any thing!'

What conversation after this passed between them, I shall leave to the reader's imagination; and only say, that the voice of the incognita being more distinguishable by the button of her mask being removed, Mr. Trueworth could not help thinking he had heard before accents very like those with which he was now entertained; though where, or from what mouth they had proceeded, he was not able to recollect.

This conjecture, however, rendering him more impatient than ever for the discovery, he omitted nothing in his power, either by words or actions, to dissuade her from re-assuming her vizard when they should quit that scene of darkness. 'How gladly would I comply,' cried she, 'but that I fear—' 'Fear what!' cried Mr. Trueworth, eagerly interrupting her. 'I fear to lose you,' replied she, fondly embracing him: 'My face is already but too well known to you; you have often seen it, but seen it without those emotions I endeavoured to inspire. How, then, can I now hope it will have the effect I wish!'—'Unkindly judged,' said he: 'with what indifference soever I may have regarded you, the endearing softness, the enchanting transports, you have now blessed me with, would give new charms to every feature, and make me find perfections I never saw before. Come then, my goddess,' continued he, raising her, 'shine with full lustre on me, and fix me your adorer.'—'Well,' cried she, 'you are not to be resisted, and I will venture.'

These words brought them to the chamber-door, and shewed the incognita to her amazed gallant to be no other than Miss Flora. 'Miss Flora Mellasin! Good Heavens!' cried he. 'You seem surprized and shocked,' said she: 'alas! my apprehensions were too just.'—'Pardon me, Madam,' answered he, 'I am indeed surprized, but it is through an excess of joy! Could I have ever thought the favours I have received were bestowed by the amiable Miss Flora Mellasin!'

It is certain, that his astonishment at first was very great; but recovering himself from it in a short time, a thousand passages in Miss Flora's former behaviour towards him occurred to his remembrance, and made him wonder at himself for not having sooner found her out in the person of his incognita. They passed their time, till the night was pretty far advanced, in a manner very agreeable to each other; nor parted without reciprocal assurance of renewing this tender intercourse the next day, at the same place.