Tho’ I could no longer pretend to virtue, I was not so lost to shame, but that I wished to preserve what reputation I had remaining: It could be but little; for every spot on a woman's fame is indelible. But there is a great difference in the situation of one whose character is ambiguous, and of her who has put it beyond all doubt.

I flattered myself, that if my parents would espouse my cause, I might still be preserved from infamy, and obtain a separate maintenance: Which, however small, would have contented me.

As soon, therefore, as rest had sufficiently refreshed me, I wrote my father an account of the whole of Mr. Merton's treatment of me, and of his outrageous jealousy of Captain Turnham, so highly and so suddenly conceived; omitting no circumstance which I hoped might plead in my favour; intreating his countenance and intercession towards procuring a separation, which would not brand me with infamy, and bring shame on my family, as well as ruin on myself. I desired him to direct his letter to one who was a friend of Captain Turnham's servant, from whence he could fetch it; for I was not sure enough of success, to trust my father with the knowlege of my abode.

Captain Turnham remained above a week at Tunbridge; from whence I heard from him regularly; and found, that as every day rendered the contradictions and absurdities in the stories relating to me more palpable, it was still possible that I might be acquitted by the generality of the world. This made me very impatient for my father's answer, on which it intirely depended; for without Mr. Merton could be brought to consent to a separation, and some allowance, I could not venture to shew myself to any one; but must skulk in corners like a criminal, for fear of falling again into the cruel hands from which I had escaped.