 refuse the request of so generous a benefactor: My informer further related, that they have both lived in the greatest happiness ever since; and the doctor, who is one of the best of men, is continually studying how to add to the felicities of her every day: that he offered to take her up to London to pass the winters there, but this she refused, and desired she might remain where she was in the country, as it was really most agreeable

to her, and as he preferred it to the town.
*This account made the thing quite plain to me. And to judge impartially, considering the whole case, I could neither blame the lovely Agnes for marrying the doctor, nor condemn her for pretending to be a stranger to me. She was fairly dead and buried, and all connexion between us was at an end of course, as there had been no marriage, nor contract of marriage. And as to reviving the affair, and renewing the tenderness which had existed, it could answer no other end than producing unhappiness, as she was then Mrs. Stanvil, in a decent and happy situation. And further, in respect of her marrying the doctor so soon after her separation from me, it was certainly the wisest thing she could do, as she had been so intirely at his disposal, was without a stitch to cover her, and I in all probability, after burying her, being gone up to London, or in some place, where she could never hear of me more; I might likewise have been married, if any thing advantageous had offered after laying her in the church-yard. And beside, she neither knew the place she fell sick in, nor the country the doctor removed her to, as soon as ever he could get any cloaths to put on her. So that, naked and friendless as she was, without any money, and ignorant of

what became of me; without a possibility of informing herself; I could not but acquit her. I even admired her conduct, and resolved so far to imitate her, in regard to the general happiness, that nothing should appear in my behaviour, which could incline any one to think, I had ever seen her before the night the tempest drove me to her house. I was vexed, I own, to lose her. But that could be no reason for making a senseless uproar, that could do nothing but mischief.
As composed then as I could be, I went down to breakfast, on a servant's letting me know they waited for me, and found
