“Well, I saw my weak unhappy girl; and Mrs. Tomkins advised me to let her manage; for she was certain the terror of seeing her mother would be fatal to her and the unborn infant. I could not reproach her, Sir Murdoch, indeed, an _afflicted_ man is not an _angry_ man: and after all, had not I been deficient in my duty? Has not my indolent temper, and love of peace, been more considered than the good of my family? I have been too passive, Sir Murdoch, too indulgent. “I found the young spark who had taken Lydia’s fancy was William, who was with us at Fairfield Hall, and whom we all liked, as a very sober well behaved young man. His sister, my wife’s favourite maid, introduced him to us some time before we went to Bath. She said he was like many foolish young men, tired of being remote from temptation; and that he had gained, with much difficulty, her father’s consent to seek a place in London, as a valet, or a butler, being well qualified for both; she was quite unhappy that he should be left to his own guidance till he was fixed in a sober family; seeing he was a very likely young man, and quite a stranger. So my wife, who never is behind hand in good nature, said he might come to Putney, and we were well pleased with him, and engaged him to attend us to Bath. Poor Lydia has been honest with Mrs. Tomkins. The young fellow was not so much in fault as herself: she confessed that she sought him. However, this was not the question with me; we might perhaps have hushed up this business; such things are done, as they say, every day: but what follows? a crime, in my opinion, ten times worse than Lydia’s; being, as it were, committed in cool blood; for what can be more dishonest than passing off a deluded girl for a chaste one? and depriving a poor innocent babe of a father, and a name. I could not do such an act of injustice; being convinced that it would be doing what I should not think just in another to do by me.