that; but I love to lie by myself. How so? said she; Was not Mrs. Jervis
your bed-fellow at t'other house?

Well, said I, quite sick of her, and my condition; you must do as you are
instructed, I think. I can't help myself, and am a most miserable
creature. She repeated her insufferable nonsense. Mighty miserable,
indeed, to be so well beloved by one of the finest gentlemen in England!


I am now come down in my writing to this present SATURDAY, and a deal I
have written.

My wicked bed-fellow has very punctual orders, it seems; for she locks me
and herself in, and ties the two keys (for there is a double door to the
room) about her wrist, when she goes to bed. She talks of the house
having been attempted to be broken open two or three times; whether to
fright me, I can't tell; but it makes me fearful; though not so much as I
should be, if I had not other and greater fears.

I slept but little last night, and got up, and pretended to sit by the
window, which looks into the spacious gardens; but I was writing all the
time, from break of day, to her getting up, and after, when she was
absent.

At breakfast she presented the two maids to me, the cook and house-maid,
poor awkward souls, that I can see no hopes of, they seem so devoted to
her and ignorance. Yet I am resolved, if possible, to find some way to
escape, before this wicked master comes.

There are, besides, of servants, the coachman, Robert, a groom, a helper,