Before the second month of my wedlock was quite expired, we went to Tunbridge; a place where Mr. Merton resorted yearly, to patch up his tattered constitution. The season was then very full; but as I had few acquaintance, and wanted spirits to make new ones, it appeared very dull to me; yet it answered my hopes; for Mr. Merton was always engaged abroad; and at first I enjoyed a retirement which the country did not afford me. But the lady I mentioned, by whose means I first learnt Mr. Merton's intention of going thither, was inclined, by the sociableness of her own nature, both to pity the solitude I lived in, and to end the misfortune, by makeing me come abroad. She would call upon me both morning and evening, and not depart till she prevailed on me to accompany her. I was as void of spirits to resist her importunities, as to enjoy the diversions into which she carried me.

As Mr. Merton had ornamented his victim with many family jewels and fine cloaths, (an expence he had taken on himself) I made too resplendent a figure to pass unnoticed. I soon found I had no occasion to put myself to any trouble for acquaintance; it would have been a greater labour to avoid them. The old ladies were moved by my youth and melancholy to pity me, which gave a pleasing softness to their civility: The young ones forgave me my superior finery, and any advantages of person, when they looked on the doleful consequences of the latter; and when they placed all that vanity could render desirable in me in one account, and the mighty sum of all Mr. Merton's disagreableness in the other, they could not suppose the balance of happiness was sufficient to excite one grain of envy.

Thus I became a favourite with my own sex; and I have already given reasons why the other was not likely to be less disposed in my favour.