"He threw himself on his knees, as he approach'd the dear mistress of his soul, and with a voice and manner all soft and love-inspiring.--Now madam, said he, if the adoring Fillamour is not unworthy the glory of your deliverance, I come to offer it, and to assure you, that not only this, but the service of my whole future life is entirely devoted to you. The innocent Philenia had not presently the power of replying, the different emotions of love, and shame, fear, and joy, made such a confusion in her sentiments, that she could only look the meanings of them all: Fillamour, however, found enough in this mute language to make him know, he was in as fair a way of happiness, as he cou'd wish; and returning her glances with others as languishing, as the most melting longing love cou'd teach the loveliest eyes in the world, they continued, for some moments, thus transmitting souls--" until their confidant hurries them out of the house. After the elopement Fillamour is distracted by the opposing motives of love and interest. To marry Philenia means ruin, for his ambitious uncle, who has proposed an advantageous marriage to him, would never forgive him for a love match. The innocent cause of his distress finally discovers his perplexity and agrees to live a single life until they can marry without loss of fortune. In this state of affairs "their love seem'd to be a copy of that pure and immaterial passion, which angels regard each other with, and, which we are allow'd to hope shall be our portion, when, shaking off our earth, we meet in a happier world, where we are to live and love forever." The lovers' paradise is invaded by Philenia's father, who carries her home and locks her up more closely than before. In a short time she has the shocking intelligence that Fillamour has married according to the wishes of his worldly uncle. She still remains constant to him, but "the remainder of her yet surprising adventures," remarks the author, "and those of Antonia and Coeurdemont must be told another time, having good reason to doubt my reader will be tir'd, when I am so myself." Eliza was perhaps the first to recover from the fatigue, for in a little more than two months the continuation, costing sixpence more than the first instalment, was offered to her readers.