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 specting the horse, mentioned the gentleman's enquiries, and described his person. It was her uncle. She was terrified and shocked beyond measure, she sunk into a chair, and burst into a flood of tears: "Good heavens! (said she) if he should trace me here: yet so many days before him, I think I may be safe; Bertha was not in the secret, and Joseph I can, I know, depend upon not to betray me." Under the most painful reflections, she retired to rest, but sleep forsook her pillow: the dread of falling again into the power of a man so abandoned gave her the most poignant affliction—"O, that we were in England (said she) I should then, I think, be safe from his pursuit."

She past a restless night, and in the morning met her friends, with a pale countenance and uneasy mind.

"My dear child, (exclaimed the Marchioness) what is the matter, are you ill?" Matilda gave her Joseph's letter, and ex-