take it. And so the first discourse went off again, and they had no more of it.
But it did not go off so easily with me, for now, in a word, the clouds began to thicken about me, and I had alarms on every side. My husband told me what the captain had said, but very happily took it that the captain had brought a tale by halves, and, having heard it one way, had told it another; and that neither could he understand the captain, neither did the captain understand himself, so he contented himself to tell me, he said, word for word, as the captain delivered it.
How I kept my husband from discovering my disorder you shall hear presently; but let it suffice to say just now, that if my husband did not understand the captain, nor the captain understand himself, yet I understood them both very well; and, to tell the truth, it was a worse shock than ever I had yet. Invention supplied me, indeed, with a sudden motion to avoid showing my surprise; for as my spouse and I was sitting by a little table near the fire, I reached out my hand, as if I had intended to take a spoon which lay on the other side, and threw one of the candles off of the table; and then snatching it up, started up upon my feet, and stooped to the lap of my gown and took it in my hand. 'Oh! 'says I, 'my gown's spoiled; the candle has greased it prodigiously.' This furnished me with an excuse to my spouse to break off the discourse for the present, and call Amy down; and Amy not coming presently, I said to him, 'My dear, I must run upstairs and put it off, and let Amy clean it a little.' So my husband rose up too, and went into a closet where he kept his papers, and fetched a book out, and sat down by himself to read.
Glad I was that I had got away, and up I run to Amy, who, as it happened, was alone. 'Oh, Amy! 'says I, 'we are all utterly undone.' And with that I burst out a-crying, and could not speak a word for a great while.
I cannot help saying that some very good reflections offered themselves upon this head. It presently occurred, what a glorious testimony it is to the justice of Providence, and to the concern Providence has in guiding all the affairs of men (even the least as well as the greatest), that the most secret crimes are, by the most unforeseen accidents, brought to light and discovered.
Another reflection was, how just it is that sin and shame follow one another so constantly at the heels; that they are not like attendants only, but, like cause and consequence, necessarily connected one with another; that the crime going before,' the scandal is certain to follow; and that 'tis not in the power of human nature to conceal the first, or avoid the last.
'What shall I do, Amy?' said I, as soon as I could speak, 'and what will become of me?' And then I cried again so vehemently that I could say no more a great while. Amy was frighted almost out of her wits, but knew nothing what the matter was; but she begged to know, and persuaded me to compose myself, and not cry so. 'Why, madam, if my master should come up now', says she, 'he will see what a disorder you are in; he will know you have been crying, and then he will want to know the cause of it.' With that I broke out again. 'Oh, he knows it already, Amy', says I; 'he knows all! 'Tis all discovered, and we are undone!' Amy was thunderstruck now indeed. 'Nay', says Amy, 'if that be true, we are undone indeed; but that can never be; that's impossible, I'm sure.'
'No, no', says I; '’tis far from impossible, for I tell you 'tis so.' And
