Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
“When this was over and the moon began to appear, Amelia declared
she knew very well where she was; and, a little farther striking into
another lane to the right, she said that would lead us to a house where
we should be both safe and unsuspected. I followed her directions, and
we at length came to a little cottage about three miles distant from
Mrs. Harris’s house.
“As it now rained very violently, we entered this cottage, in which we
espied a light, without any ceremony. Here we found an elderly woman
sitting by herself at a little fire, who had no sooner viewed us than
she instantly sprung from her seat, and starting back gave the strongest
tokens of amazement; upon which Amelia said, ‘Be not surprised, nurse,
though you see me in a strange pickle, I own.’ The old woman, after
having several times blessed herself, and expressed the most tender
concern for the lady who stood dripping before her, began to bestir
herself in making up the fire; at the same time entreating Amelia that
she might be permitted to furnish her with some cloaths, which, she
said, though not fine, were clean and wholesome and much dryer than
her own. I seconded this motion so vehemently, that Amelia, though she
declared herself under no apprehension of catching cold (she hath indeed
the best constitution in the world), at last consented, and I retired
without doors under a shed, to give my angel an opportunity of dressing
herself in the only room which the cottage afforded belowstairs.
“At my return into the room, Amelia insisted on my exchanging my coat
for one which belonged to the old woman’s son.” “I am very glad,” cried
Miss Matthews, “to find she did not forget you. I own I thought it
somewhat cruel to turn you out into the rain.”--“O, Miss Matthews!”
continued he, taking no notice of her observation, “I had now an
opportunity of contemplating the vast power of exquisite beauty, which
nothing almost can add to or diminish. Amelia, in the poor rags of her
old nurse, looked scarce less beautiful than I have seen her appear at a
ball or an assembly.” “Well, well,” cries Miss Matthews, “to be sure she
did; but pray go on with your story.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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