THE Wand'ring Beauty. A NOVEL.  
By Mrs. A. BEHN.  
LONDON: Printed for Sam. Briscoe, in Charles Street, Covent-Garden, 1698.   

To the Right Honourable EDWARD, Earl of Darwentwater.  
My Lord,  
BEing to Publish these last remains of the Celebrated Mrs. Behn, I could not lose so proper an occasion of showing the Respect and Value I have for your Lordship. The humour of Novels is so sunk for some Years, that it shows an extraordinary desert in Mrs. Behn, that they are still in general esteem. Others have sought after extraordinary and scarce possible Adventures, she happily consulted Nature, which will always prevail; so that I may call her the Otway of this kind of Writing; whose Natural Scens live and increase every day in esteem with the Ingenious, while the fantastic Rants of some of her Cotemporaries die even before their Authors, though so Celebrated, and followed in their first representation.  
I know 'tis the custom of Authors to fill their Dedications with fulsome flatteries, but as I am no Author so I shall avoid their faults, and only profess a sincere veneration for those many Noble Qualifications which render you the Darling of the Witty, and beg leave to subscribe myself,  
Your Lordship's most Obedient, Humble Servant, SAM. BRISCOE. 
* Next after the Wand'ring Beauty.    

THE Wand'ring Beauty.  
I Was not above Twelve Years old, as near as I can remember, when a Lady of my Acquaintance, who was particularly concerned in many of the Passages, very pleasantly Entertained me with the Relation of the Young Lady Arabella's Adventures, who was Eldest Daughter to Sir Francis Fairname, a Gentleman of a Noble Family, and of a very large Estate in the West of England, a True Churchman, a great Loyalist, and a most discreetly Indulgent Parent: nor was his Lady any way Inferiourr to him in every Circumstance of Virtue. They had only Two Children more, and those were of the soft, unhappy Sex too; all very Beautiful, especially Arabella, and all very much alike; Piously Educated, and Courtly too, of Naturally Virtuous Principles and Inclinations.  
'Twas about the Sixteenth Year of her Age that Sir Robert Richland, her Father's great Friend, and inseparable Companion, but Superior to him in Estate, as well as Years, felt the Resistless Beauty of this young Lady Raging and Burning in his Aged Veins, which had like to have been as Fatal to him, as a Consumption, or his Climacterical Year of Sixty Three, in which he died, as I am told, though he was then hardly Sixty. However, the Winter Medlar would fain have been Inoculated in the Summer's Nacturine. His unseasonable Appetite grew so strong and inordinate, that he was obliged to discover it to Sir Francis; who, though he loved him very sincerely, had yet a Regard to his Daughter's Youth, and Satisfaction in the Choice of a Husband; especially when he considered the great disproportion in their Age, which he rightly imagined would be very disagreeable to Arabella's Inclinations: This made him at first use all the most powerful and persuading Arguments in his Capacity, to Convince Sir Robert of the Inequality of such a Match, but all to no purpose; for his Passion increasing each Day more violently, the more assiduously, and with the greater vehemence he pressed his Friends to use his Interest and Authority with his Lady and Daughter, to consent to his almost unnatural Proposition; offering this as the most weighty and prevailing Argument, which undoubtedly it was, That since he was a Bachelor, he would settle his whole Estate upon her, if she survived him, on the Day of Marriage, not desiring one Penny as a Portion with her. This Discourse wrought so powerfully with her Mother, that she promised the old Lover all the Assistance he could Hope or Expect from her: In order to which, the next Day she Acquainted her fair Daughter with the Golden Advantage she was like to have, if she would but consent To lie by the Parchment that conveyed 'em to her. The Dear, Fair Creature, was so surprised at this Overture made by her Mother, that her Roses turned all into Lilies, and she had like to have Swooned away, but having a greater Command of her Passions than usually our Sex have, and chief Persons of her Age, she, after some little disorder, which by no means she could dissemble, she made as Dutiful a Return to her Mother's Proposition, as her Aversion to it would permit, and for that time got liberty to retreat, and lament in Private the Misfortune which she partly foresaw was Impending. But her Grief (alas!) was no Cure of her Malady; for the next Day she was again doubly Attacked by her Father and Mother, with all the Reasons that Interest and Duty could urge, which she endeavoured to Obviate by all the Arguments that Nature and Inclination could offer, but she found 'em all in vain, since they continued their ungrateful Solicitations for several Days together, at the end of which they both absolutely Commanded her to prepare herself for her Nuptials with Sir Robert, so that, finding herself under a necessity of Complying, or at least of seeming so; she made 'em hope that her Duty had overcome her Aversion; upon which she had a whole Week's Liberty to walk where she would, unattended, or with what Company she pleased, and to make Visits to whom she had a Mind, either of her Relations or Acquaintance thereabouts; though for three or four Days before, she was strictly Confined to her Chamber.  
After Dinner, on the third Day of her Enlargement, being Summertime, she proposed to her Mother that she would take a Walk to a Cousin of hers, who lived about Four Miles thence, to entreat her to be one of her Bridemaids, being then in a careless, plain Dress, and having before discoursed very pleasantly and freely of her Wedding-Day, of what Friends she would have Invited to that Solemnity, and what Hospitality Sir Robert should keep when she was Married to him: All which was highly agreeable to her Parents, who then could not forbear Thanking and Kissing her for it, which she returned to 'em both with a Shower of Tears. This did not a little Surprise 'em at first, but ask her what could cause such signs of Sorrow after so cheerful a Discourse on the l●te Subject. She answered, That the Thoughts of her going now, suddenly to Live from so Dear and Tender a Father and Mother, were the sole occasion of such Expressions of Grief. This Affectionate Reply did amply Satisfy their Doubts▪ and she presently took leave of 'em, after having desired that they would not be uneasy if she should not return till a little before 'twas dark, or if her Cousin should oblige her to stay all Night with her; which they took for a discreet Caution in her; and considering that young Maidens love dearly to talk of Marriage-Affairs, especially when so near at hand: And thus easily parted with her, when they had walked with her about a Mile, over a Field or two of their own.  
Never before that time was the dear Creature glad that her Father and Mother had left her, unless when they had pressed her to a Marriage with the old Knight. They were therefore no sooner got out of sight, e'er she took another Path that led cross the Country, which she pursued till past Eight at Night, having walked Ten Miles since Two a Clock, when Sir Francis and her Mother left her, she was just now got to a little Cottage, the poor, but cleanly Habitation of a Husbandman and his Wife, who had one only Child, a Daughter, about the Lady Arabella's Age and Stature. 'Twas happy for him she got thither before they were a Bed; for her Soft and Beautiful Limbs began now to be tired, and her Tender Feet to be galled. To the good Woman of the House she applies herself, desiring Entertainment for that Night, offering her any reasonable Satisfaction. The good Wife at first Sight of her had Compassion of her, and immediately bid her walk in, telling her that she might lie with her Daughter if she pleased, who was very cleanly, though not very vine. The good Man of the House came in soon after, who was very well pleased with his new Guest; so to Supper they went very seasonably for the poor young Lady, who was even ready to faint with Thirst, and not overcharged with what she had eaten the Day before. After Supper they asked her whence she came, and how she durst venture to travel alone, and a foot. To which she replied, that she came from a Relation who lived at Exeter, with whom she had stayed till she found she was burdensome. That she was of Welsh Parents, and of a good Family; but her Father dying, left a cruel Mother-in-law▪ with whom she could by no means continue, especially, since she would have forced her to marry an old Man, whom it was impossible she should love, though he was very Rich; that she was now going to seek her Fortune in London,, where she hoped, at least, to get her a good Service. They all seemed to pity her very hearty, and in a little time after they went to their two several Apartments; in one of which Arabella and the Damsel of the House went to Bed, where the young Lady slept sound, notwithstanding the Hardness of her Lodging. In the Morning about Four, according to her Laudable Custom, the young hardy Maiden got up to her daily Employment, which wakened Arabella, who presently bethought herself of an Expedient for her more secure and easy Escape from her Parent's Pursuit and Knowledge, proposing to her Bedfellow an Exchange of their Wearing Apparel. The Heiress and Hope of that little Family was extremely fond of the Proposal, and ran immediately to acquaint her Mother with it, who was so well pleased, that she could hardly believe it, when the young Lady confirmed it; and especially, when she understood the Exchange was to be made on even Hands. If you be in earnest Forsooth (said the Mother) you shall even have her Sunday-Cloaths. Agreed (returned Arabella) but we must change Shifts too; I have now a Couple about me, new and clean, I do assure you: For my Hoods and Head-dress you shall give me two Pinner's, and her best Straw-Hat; and for my Shoes, which I have not worn above a Week; I will have her Holyday-Shooes. A Match, indeed, young Mistress; (cried the Good Wife). So without more Ceremony, the young unhappy Lady was attired in her Bedfellow's Country-Weeds, by Help of the Mother and Daughter. Then after she had taken her leave of the good old Man too, she put a broad round Shilling into his Wife's Hand, as a Reward for her Supper and Lodging, which she would fain have returned, but t'other would not receive it. Nay, then, by th' Mackins, (said her Hostess) you shall take a Breakfast ere you go, and a Dinner along with you, for fear you should be sick by the way. Arabella stayed to eat a Mess of warm Milk, and took some of their Yesterday Provision with her in a little course Linnen-Bag. Then ask for the direct Road to London, and begging a few Green Wallnuts, she took her last Farewell of ' 'em.  
Near Twelve at Noon she came to a pleasant Meadow, thro' which there ran a little Rivulet of clear Water, about Nine Miles from her last Lodging, but quite out of the way to London. Here she sat down, and after drinking some of the Water out of the hollow of her Hand, she opened her Bag, and made as good a Meal as the courseness of the Fare, and the niceness of her Appetite would permit: After which she bruised the outward green Shells of a Walnut or two, and smeared her lovely Face, Hands, and part of her Arms, with the Juice; then looking into the little purling Stream, that seemed to murmur at the Injury she did to so much Beauty; she sighed and wept, to think to what base Extremities she was now likely to be reduced! That she should be forced to slain that Skin which Heaven had made so pure and white! But ah! (cried she to herself) if my Disobedience to my Parents had not stained my Conscience worse, this rents needed not to have been done. Here she wept abundantly again; then, drying her Eyes, she washed her Feet to refresh 'em, and thence continued her Journey for Ten Miles more, which she compassed by Seven a Clock; when she came to a Village, where she got Entertainment for that Night, paying for it, and the next Morning, before Six, assoon as she had filled her little Bag with what good Cheer that Place afforded, she wandered on till Twelve again, still crossing the Country, and taking her Course to the Northern Parts of England, which doubtless was the Reason her Father and his Servants missed of her in their Pursuit; for he imagined that for certain she had taken her nearest way to London. After she had refreshed herself for an Hours time by the side of a Wood; she risen and wandered again near twelve Miles by Eight a Clock, and lodged at a good substantial Farmer's.  
Thus she continued her Errantry for above a Fortnight, having no more Money than just Thirty Shillings, half of which brought her to Sir Christian Kindly's House in Lancashire. 'Twas near Five a Clock in the Afternoon, when she reached that happy Port, when coming to the Hall-Door she inquired for the Lady of the House, who happily was just coming into the Hall with a little Miss in her Arms, of about Four Years old, very much troubled with weak and sore Eyes: The fair Wanderer addressing herself to the Lady with all the Humility & Modesty imaginable, begged to know if her Ladyship had any Place in her Family vacant, in which she might do her Service? To which the Lady returned (by way of Question) Alas! poor Creature! what canst thou do? Any thing, may it please your Ladyship, (replied the Disguised Beauty) any thing within my Strength and my Knowledge, I mean, Madam. Thou sayest well (said the Lady) and I'm sorry I have not any vacant for thee. I beseech your Ladyship then (said Arabella) let me lodge in your Barn to Night; for I am told it is a great way hence to any Town, and I have but little Money. In my Barn, poor Girl! (cried the Lady, looking very earnestly on her) Ay, God forbidden else; unless we can find a better Lodging for thee. Art thou Hungry or Thirsty? Yes, Madam, (replied the wand'ring Fair One) I could both Eat and Drink if it please your Ladyship. The Lady commanded Victuals and Drink to be brought, and could not forbear staying in the Hall till she had done; when she asked her several Questions; as of what Country she was? To which she answered, truly of Somersetshire. What her Parents were, and if living. To which she returned, They were Good, Honest, and Religious People, and she hoped they were alive, and in as good Health as when she left ' 'em. After the Lady had done Catechising her, Arabella, looking on the little Child in her Ladyship's Arms, said, Pardon me, Madam, I beseech you, if I am too bold in ask your Ladyship how that pretty Creatures Eyes came to be so bad? By an extreme Cold which she took (replied the Lady.) I had not presumed (returned t'other) to have asked your Ladyship this Question, were I not assured that I have an Infallible Cure for the Infirmity: And if (Madam) you will be pleased to let me apply it, I will tell your Ladyship the Remedy in private. The Lady was much surprised to hear a young Creature so meanly habited, talk so gently; and after surveying her very strictly, said the Lady, Have you ever experimented it before? Yes Madam, (replied the fair Physician) and never without happy Success: I dare engage, Madam, (added she) that I will make 'em as well as my own, by God's Blessing, or else I will be content to lose mine; which Heaven forbidden. Amen (cried the good Lady) for they are very fine ones on my word.— Stay Child, I will desire Sir Christian to hear it with me, and if he approves it, you shall about it; and if it take good Effect, we will endeavour to requite the Care and Pains it shall cost you: Saying thus, she immediately left her, and returned very speedily with Sir Christian, who having discoursed Arabella for some time with great Satisfaction & Pleasure, took her into the Parlour with his Lady, where she Communicated her Secret to 'em both; which they found so Innocent and Reasonable, that they desired her to prepare it as soon as possible, and to make her Application of it withal convenient speed; which she could not do till the next Morning. In the mean time she was ordered a Lodging with the House-Maid, who Reported to her Lady, That she found her a very sweet and cleanly Bed-fellow; adding, That she never saw nor felt so white, so smooth, and soft a Skin. Arabella continued her Remedy with such good Success, that in a Fortnight's time, little Miss' Eyes were as lively and strong as ever. This so endeared her to the Knight and his Lady, that they Created a new Office in their Family, purposely for her; which was Attendant on their Eldest Daughter Eleanora, a Lady much about her Years and Stature, who was so Charmed with her Conversation, that she could not stir abroad, nor Eat, nor Sleep, without Peregrina Good-house (for those were the Names she borrowed:) Nor was her Modesty, Humility, and Sweetness of Temper, less engaging to her Fellow-Servants, who all strove which should best express their Love to her. On Festival-Days, and for the Entertainment of Strangers, she would lend her helping Hand to the Cook, and make the Sauce for every Dish, though her own Province was only to Attend the young Lady, and prepare the Quidling, and other Sweetmeats, for the Reception of Sir Christian's Friends, all which she did to Admiration. In this state of easy Servitude she lived there for near Three Years, very well contented at all times, but when she bethought herself of her Father, Mother and Sisters, Courted by all the principal Men-Servants, whom she refused in so obliging a manner, and with such sweet, obliging Words, that they could not think themselves injured, though they found their Addresses were in vain. Mr. Prayfast, the Chaplain himself, could not hold out against her Charms. For her Skin had long since recovered its Native Whiteness; nor did she need Ornaments of clothes to set her Beauty off, if any thing could Adorn her, since she was dressed altogether as Costly, though not so Richly (perhaps) as Eleanora. Prayfast therefore found that the Spirit was too weak for the Flesh, and gave her very broad Signs of his Kindness in Sonnets, Anagrams, and Acrostics, which she received very obligingly of him, taking a more convenient time to Laugh at 'em with her young Lady.  
Her kind Reception of 'em encouraged him to that Degree, that within a few Days after, supposing himself secure on her side, he applied himself to the good Old Knight, his Patron, for his Consent to a Marriage with her, who very readily complied with his Demands, esteeming it a very advantageous Match for Peregrina, and withal told him, That he would give him Three Hundred Pounds with her, besides the first Benefit that should fall, within his Gift. But (said he) as I doubt not that you are sufficiently Acquainted with her Virtues, and other excellent Qualifications, 'tis necessary that you should know the worst that I can tell you of her, which is, That she came to us a mere Stranger, in a very mean, though cleanly Habit; and therefore, as she has owned to us, we may conclude, of very humble, yet honest Parentage. A! (possibly) her Father might have been, or is, some Husbandman, or somewhat Inferior to that; for we took her up at the Door, begging one Night's Entertainment in the Barn. How, Sir! (cried Prayfast, starting) have you no better knowledge of her Birth, than what you are pleased to discover now? No better, nor more (Replied the Knight.) Alas! Sir, than (returned the Proud Canonical sort of a Farmer) She is no Wife for me: I shall dishonour my Family by Marrying so basely. Were you never told any thing of this before? (asked the Knight.) You know, Sir, (Answered the Prelate that would be) that I have not had the Honour to Officiate, as your Chaplain, much more than half a Year; in which time, 'tis true, I have heard that she was Received as a Stranger; but that she came in so low a Capacity, I never learned till now. I find then Parson, (said the Knight) That you do not like the Author of your Happiness, at least, who might be so, because she comes to you in such an humble manner; I tell you the Jews are miserable for the same Reason. She cannot be such perfectly to me (returned t'other) without the Advantage of good Birth. With that I'm sure she would not, returned his Patron, and left him to go to Peregrina, whom he happily found alone. Child (said he to her) Have you any Obligation to Mr. Prayfast? As how, Sir? she asked. Do you love him? Have you made him any Promise of Marriage? Or, has he any way Engaged himself to you? Neither, Sir (she Answered.) 'Tis true, I love him as my Fellow-Servant, no otherwise. He has indeed been somewhat Lavish of his Wit and Rhimes to me, which served well enough to divert my young Lady and me. But of all Mankind, perhaps, he should be the last I would choose for a Husband. I thought (said the good humoured old Knight) that he had already obtained a Promise from you, since he came but just now to ask my Consent, which I freely gave him at first, upon that Thought; but he is doubtful of your Birth, and fears it may dishonour his Family, if he should Marry you. On my Word, Sir (returned Peregrina, blushing, with disdain, no doubt) our Families are by no means equal. What thy Family is I know not (said Sir Christian) but I am sure thou art infinitely Superior to him in all the Natural Embellishments both of Body and Mind. Be just to thyself, and be not hasty to Wed; Thou hast more Merit than Wealth alone can Purchase. O! dear Sir (she returned) you Ruin me with Obligations, never to be Repaid but in Acknowledgement, and that imperfectly too. Here they were Interrupted by the young Lady, to whom she Repeated the Conference betwixt Sir Christian, and Prayfast, as soon as ever Sir Christian left the Room.  
About a Week after, Sir Lucius Lovewell, a young Gentleman, of a good Presence, Wit and Learning enough, whose Father dying near a Twelvemonth before, had left him upwards of 3000 l. a Year, which too was an Excellent Accomplishment, though not the best, for he was admirably good Humoured, came to Visit Sir Christian Kindly, and as some of the Family imagined, 'twas with design to make his Addresses to the young Lady, Sir Christian's Daughter; whatever his Thoughts were, his Treatment there was very generous and kind. He saw the Lady, and liked her very well; nay, doubtless, would have admitted a Passion for her, had not his Destiny at the same time shown him Peregrina. She was very Beautiful, and he as sensible; and 'tis not to be doubted but that he immediately took Fire. However, his Application and Courtship, free and unaffected as it was, were chief directed to Sir Christian's Daughter: Some little Respects he paid to Peregrina, who could not choose but look on him as a very fine, good-humoured, and well Accomplished Gentleman. When the Hour came that he thought fit to retreat, Sir Christian asked him, When he would make 'em Happy again in his Conversation? To which he returned, That since he was not above seven or eight Miles from him, and that there were Charms so Attractive at Sir Christian 's, he should take the liberty to Visit him sooner and oftener, than he either expected or desired. Tother replied, That was impossible; and so without much more Ceremony, he took his leave of that delightful Company for two or three Days; at the end of which he returned with Thoughts much different from those at his first coming thither, being strongly Agitated by his Passion for Peregrina. He took and made all the opportunities and occasions that Chance and his own Fancy could offer and present to Talk to her▪ both before, at, and after Dinner, and his Eyes were so constantly fixed on her, that he seemed to observe nothing else, which was so visible to Sir Christian, his Lady and Daughter, that they were Convinced of their Error, in believing that he came to make his Court to the young Lady. This late Discovery of the young Knight's Inclinations, was no way unpleasant to Sir Christian and his Lady, and to the young Lady it was most agreeable and obliging, since her Heart was already preengaged elsewhere; and since she did equally desire the good Fortune of her Beautiful Attendant with her own.  
The Table was no sooner cleared, and a Loyal Health or two gone round, e'er Sir Christian asked his young Amorous Guest to take a Walk with him in the Gardens: To which Sir Lucius readily consented, designing to disclose that to him for a Secret, which was but too apparent to all that were present at Table: When therefore he thought he had sufficiently Admired and Commended the neatness of the Walks, and beauty of the Flowers, he began to this Effect: Possibly Sir Christian, I shall surprise you with the Discourse I'm going to make you; but 'tis certain, no Man can avoid the necessity of the Fate which he lies under; at least I have now found it so.— I came at first, Sir, with the hopes of prevailing on you, to Honour and make me happy in a Marriage with Madam Eleanora your Daughter; but at the same instant I was seized with so irresistible a Passion for the Charming Peregrina, that I find no Empire, Fame nor Wit, can make me perfectly Blessed here below, without the Enjoyment of that Beautiful Creature. Do not mistake me, Sir, (I beseech you, continued he) I mean an Honourable Enjoyment— I will make her my Wife, Sir, if you will be generously pleased to use your Interest with her on my part.  
To which the good old Knight replied, What you think (Sir) you have now imparted as a Secret has been the general Observation of all my Family e'er since you gave us the Happiness of your Company to day: Your Passion is too great to be disguised; and I am extremely pleased that you can think any thing in my House worthy the Honour you intent Peregrina. Indeed, had you made any particular and public Address to my Daughter, I should have believed it want of Merit in her, or in us, her Parents, that you should after that quit your Pretensions to her, without any willing or known Offence committed on our side. I therefore (Sir) approve your Choice, and promise you my utmost Assistance afar. She is really virtuous in all the Latitude of Virtue; Her Beauty is too visible to be disputed by, even by Envy itself: As for her Birth, she less can inform you of it; I must only let you know, that as her Name imports she was utterly a Stranger, and entertained by us in pure Charity. But the Antiquity and Honour of your Family can receive no Diminution by a Match with a Beautiful and Virtuous Creature, for whom, you say, and I believe, you have so true a Passion. I have now told you the worst (Sir) that I know of her; but your Wealth and Love may make you both eternally happy on Earth. And so they shall, by her Dear self (returned the Amorous Knight) if both of 'em may recommend me to her, with your Persuasions added, which still I beg. Say, rather you Command; and with those Three Hundred Pounds which I promised her, if she married with my Consent to Sir Lucius.  
To this, the other smiling, replied, Her Person and Love is all I court or expect, Sir: But since you have thought her worthy of so great an Expression of your Favour and Kindness, I will receive it with all Humility as is from a Father, which I shall ever esteem you— But see, Sir, (cried he in an Ecstasy) how she comes, led by Madam Peregrina, your Daughter. The young Lady coming to him, began thus. I know (Sir) 'tis my Father and Mother's Desire and Ambition to show you the heartiest Welcome in their Power, which can be no means be made appear so particularly and undisputably, as by presenting you with what you like best in the Family; In Assurance therefore that I shall merit their Favour by this Act, I have brought your Dear Peregrina to you, not without Advice, and some Instructions of mine, that may concern her Happiness with you, if discreetly observed, and pursued by her. In short (Sir) I have told her that a Gentleman of so Good a Figure, such excellent Parts, and generous Education of so Ancient and Honourable a Family; together with so plentiful an Estate, as you at present possess, is capable of bringing Happiness to any, the Fairest Lady in this Country at least. O Madam (returned Sir Lucius) your Obligation is so great, that I want Sense to receive it as I ought; much more Words to return you any proportionable Acknowledgement of it. But give me Leave to say thus much, Madam; that my Thoughts of making my Court to your Ladyship first invited me to give Sir Christian your Father, the trouble of a Visit, since the Death of mine. However, the overruling Powers have thought to divert my purpose, and the Offering of my Heart, which can never rest, but with this Dear Charming Creature.— Your Merits, Madam— are sufficient for the Gentleman on whom I entirely fixed my Affections, before you did me the Honour, and yourself the Trouble of your first Visit, interrupted Sir Christian's Daughter. And now, Sir, (added she to her Father) if you please, let us leave 'em to make an end of this Business between themselves. No, Madam, (cried Sir Lucius) your Father has promised me to make use of his Interest with her for my sake. This I now expect, Sir. Then (said the Old Knight) thou Dear Beautiful and Virtuous Stranger! If I have any Power to persuade thee, take my Advice, and this Honourable Gentleman to thy loving Husband; I'm sure he'll prove so to thee. If I could command thee, I would. Ah Sir! (said she, kneeling, with Tears falling from her Charming Eyes) I know none living that has greater Right and Power.— But (alas Sir!) this Honourable Person knows not the Meanness of my Birth, at least, he cannot think it any way proportionable or suitable to His. O thou dear Creature, (cried her Lover, setting one Knee to the Ground, and taking her up) Sir Christian has already discoursed all thy Circumstances to me. Rise and Bless me with thy Consent. I must ask my Lady's, Sir, (she replied). See, here my Mother comes (said the young Lady) and entreated her good Word for Sir Lucius. The good ancient Lady began then to use all the Arguments to incline her to yield to her Happiness; and in fine, she was prevailed on to say, I do Consent, and will endeavour to deserve the Honourable Title of your Dutiful Wife, Sir. 'Twas with no common Joy and Transport that he received her Hand, and kissed those dear Lips that gave him an Assurance of his Happiness; which he resolved should begin about a Month or two afterwards; in which time, he might send Orders to London for the making their Wedding clothes. Into the House than they all went, Sir Lucius leading Peregrina, and the first they met of the Family was Prayfast, who was not a little surprised nor discomposed at that Sight; and more especially when Sir Christian told him, That though he did not think that Beautiful Sweet Stranger worthy the Title of his Wife, yet now he should be obliged to join her to that Honourable Person. The Slave bowed, and looked very pale.  
All things were at last got ready for the Consummation of their Bliss, and Prayfast did their Business effectually, though much against his Will, however he received the Reward of Twenty broad Pieces. The Wedding was kept for a Week at Sir Christian's House; after which they adjourned to the Bridegroom's, where it lasted as long as at Sir Christian's; his Lady, Daughter, and the rest; of that Family would stay. As they were leaving him, Sir Lucius disposed of Two Hundred Pounds amongst Sir Christian's Servants, and the rest of the Three Hundred he distributed among the Poor of both Parishes.  
When they were gone, the Affectionate Tender Bridegroom could by no means be persuaded by any Gentlemen, his Neighbours, to hunt with 'em, or to take any Divertisement, though but for half a Day; esteeming it the highest Unkindness imaginable to leave his Lady: Not that she could be alone neither in his Absence; for she never wanted the Visits of all the Ladies round about, and those of the best Quality; who were equally Charmed with her Sweetness of Temper, as the Men were with her outward Beauties. But in a Month's time, or thereabout, observing that he was continually solicited and courted to some Sport or Pastime with those Gentlemen of his Neighbourhood, she was forced to herself the Violence to beg of him that he would divert himself with 'em as before their Marriage he used: And she had so good Success, that he did allow himself two Days in the Week to hunt: In one of which, coming home about Five a Clock, and not finding his Lady below Stairs, he went directly up to her Chamber, where he saw her leaning her Head on her Hand, and her Handkerchief all bathed in Tears. At this Sight he was strangely amazed and concerned. Madam, (cried he, in an unusual Tone) what means such Postures as these? Tell me! For I must know the occasion. Surprised and Trembling at this his unwonted manner of saluting her, she started up, and then, falling on her Knees, she wept out, O thou Dear Author and Lord of all my Joys on Earth! Look not, I beseech you, so wildly, nor speak terribly to me! Thou Centre of all my Happiness below (returned he) Rise and make me acquainted with the dreadful Occasion of this Afflicting, and Tormenting Sight! All you shall know, (she replied) Dearest of Humane Blessings! But sit, and change your Looks; then I can speak. Speak then, my Life (said he) but tell me all; All I must know. Is there a Thought about my Soul that you shall not partake? I'm sure there is not, (he replied) say on then. You know, Sir, (she returned) that I have left my Parents now Three Years, or thereabouts, and know not whether they are Living or Dead. I was reflecting therefore on the Troubles which my undutiful and long Absence may have caused ' 'em. For, poor and mean as they may be, they well instructed me in all good things; and I would once more, by your dear Permission, see 'em, and beg their Pardon for my Fault. For, they're my Parents still, if living, Sir; though (unhappily) not worth Your Regard. How! (cried he) can that Pair who gave my Dearest Birth, want my Regard! or aught I can do for ' 'em! No, Thou shalt see 'em, and so will I. But tell me, Peregrina, Is this the only Cause of your Discomposure? So may I still be blessed in your dear Love (she replied) as this is Truth, and all the Cause. When shall we see 'em then? (he asked) We see 'em (cried she) O your Goodness descends too much; and you confound me with your unmerited and unexpected Kindness. 'Tis I alone that have offended, and I alone am fit to see ' 'em. That must not be (returned her Affectionate Husband) no, we'll both go together; and if they want, either provide for 'em there, or take 'em hither with us. Your Education shows their Principles, and 'tis no Shame to own Virtuous Relations. Come, dry thy dear lamenting Eyes; the beginning of the next Week we'll set forwards. Was ever Disobedience so rewarded with such a Husband (said she) those Tears have washed that Childish Gild away. And there is no Reward above thy Virtue.  
In a few Days Monday began the Date of their Journey to the West of England; and in Five or Six Days more, by the help of a Coach and Six, they got to Cornwall; where, in a little Town, of little Accommodation, they were obliged to take up their Lodgings the first Night. In the Morning (said his Lady to him) My Dear, about a Mile and a half hence lives one Sir Francis Fairname and his Lady, if yet they be living, who have a very fine House, and worth your seeing; I beg of you therefore, that you will be so kind to yourself as to walk thither, and Dine with the old Gentleman; for that you must, if you see him; whilst I stay here, and send to my Father and Mother, if to be found, and prepare 'em to receive you at your Return. I must not have no Denial (added she) for if you refuse this Favour, all my Designs are lost— Make haste my Life; 'tis now Eleven a Clock. In your Absence I'll dress, to try if Change of clothes can hid me from ' 'em. This was so small a Request, that he did not stay to reply to't, but presently left her, and got thither in less than half an Hour, attended only by one Footman. He was very kindly and respectfully received by the old Gentleman, who had certainly been a very Beautiful Person in his Youth; and Sir Lucius fixing his Eyes upon his Face, could hardly remove 'em, being very pleasantly and surprisingly entertained with some Lines that he observed in it. But immediately recollecting himself, he told him, that having heard how fine a Seat that was, his Curiosity led him to beg the Favour that he might see it. The worthy old Knight returned, that his House and all the Accommodations in it, were at his Service: So inviting him in, he satisfied his pretended Curiosity; and after he had shown all that was worthy the sight of a Stranger in the House, he led him into his Gardens, which furnished Sir Lucius with new matter of Admiration; whence the old Knight brought him into the Parlour, telling him that 'twas his Custom to suffer no Stranger to return till he had either dined or supped with him, according as the Hour of the Day or Night presented.  
'Twas here the Affectionate Husband was strangely surprised at the Sight of a Picture, which so nearly counterfeited the Beauties of his dear lived Lady, that he stood like an Image himself, gazing and varying; the Colours of his Face agitating by the Diversity of his Thoughts; which Sir Francis perceiving, asked him what it was that so visibly concerned him? To which he replied, That indeed he was concerned, but with great Satisfaction and Pleasure, since he had never seen any thing more Beautiful than that Picture, unless it were a Lady for whom he had the most sincere Affection imaginable, and whom it did very nearly represent; and then enquired for whom that was drawn? Sir Francis answered him, 'Twas designed for one who Was, I dare not say who Is my Daughter, and the other two ne'er drawn for her younger Sisters, And see, Sir, (pursued he) here they come following their Mother: At which Words Sir Lucius was obliged to divorce his Eyes from the Charming Shadow, and make his Compliments to them; which were no sooner over than Dinner was served in, where the young Knight eat as hearty as he could, considering he sat just opposite to it, and in sight of the two Ladies, who were now exactly like his own Wife, though not so very Beautiful.  
The Table being uncovered, Sir Lucius desired to know why Sir Francis said he doubted whether the Original of that Picture were yet his Daughter? To which the Mother returned, (big with Sorrow, which was seen in her Tears) That her Husband had spoken but too rightly: For (added she) 'tis now Three Years since we have either seen her, or heard from her. How Madam! Three Years (cried Sir Lucius) I believe I can show your Ladyship a dear Acquaintance of mine, so wonderfully like that Picture, that I am almost persuaded she is the very Original; only (pardon me, Madam) she tells me her Parents are of mean Birth and Fortune. Dear Sir, (cried the Tender Mother) Is she in this Country? She is not Two Miles hence, (replied Sir Lucius). By all things most dear to you, Sir, (said the Lady) let us be so happy as to see her, and that with all convenient Expedition! For, it will be a Happiness to see any Creature, the only Like my Dearest Arabella. Arabella, Madam! Alas. No, Madam, her Name is Peregrina. No matter for Names, Sir, (cried the Lady) I want the ●ight of the dear Creature. Sir, (added the worthy old Knight,) I can assure you it will be an Eternal Obligation to us; or if you please we will on you to her. By no means, Sir, (returned Sir Lucius) I will repeat my Trouble to you with her in an Hour at farthest. We shall desire the Continuance of such Trouble as long as we live (●●ply'd Sir Francis). So without farther Ceremony Sir Lucius left 'em, and returned to his Lady, whom he found ready dressed, as he wished he might. Madam (said he) where are your Father and Mother? I know not yet, my Dear, she repiyed. Well (returned he) we will expect 'em, or send for 'em hither at Night; in the mean time I have engaged to bring you with me to Sir Francis Fairname and his Lady with all imaginable Expedition. So immediately as soon as Coach and Six, and Equipage, was ready, he hurried her away with him to Sir Francis, whom they found walking with his Lady and two Daughters in the outward Court, impatiently expecting their Coming. The Boot of the Coach (for that was the Fashion in those Days) was presently let down, and Sir Lucius led his Lady forwards to them; who coming within Three or Four Paces of the good old Knight, his Lady fell on her Knees, and begged their Pardon and Blessing. Her Affectionate Father answered 'em with Tears from his Eyes; but the good ancient Lady was so overcome with Joy, that she fell into a Swoon, and had like to have been accompanied by her Daughter, who fell upon her Knees by her, and with her Shrieks recalled her, when she straight cried out, My Daughter, my Daughter's come again! my Arabella alive! Ay, my dear offended Mother, with all the Duty and Penitence that Humanity is capable of, returned the Lady Lovewell. Her Sisters then expressed their Love in Tears, Embraces and Kisses, while her dear Husband begged a Blessing of her Parents, who were very pleasantly surprised to know that their Daughter was so happily married, and to a Gentleman of such an Estate and Quality as Sir Lucius seemed to be: 'Twas late that Night ere they went to Bed at Sir Francis'. The next day, after they had all pretty well eased themselves of their Passions, Sir Francis told his Son-in-Law, that as he had three Daughters, so he had 3000 l. a Year, and he would divide it equally among 'em; but for Joy of the Recovery of his eldest Daughter, and her Fortunate Match with so worthy a Gentleman as Sir Lucius, who had given him an Account of his Estate and Quality, he promised him Ten Thousand Pounds in ready Money besides; whereas the other young Ladies were to have but Five Thousand apiece, besides their Dividend of the Estate. And now (said he) Daughter, the Cause of your Retreat from us, old Sir Robert Richland has been dead these Three Months on such a day. How, Sir, (cried she) on such a day! That was the very Day on which I was so happy as to be married to my Dear Sir Lucius.  
She than gave her Father and Mother, and Sisters, a Relation of all that had happened to her since her Absence from her Dear Parents, who were extremely pleased with the Account of Sir Christian and his Lady's Hospitality and Kindness to her; and in less than a Fortnight after they took a Journey to Sir Lucius', carrying the two other young Ladies along with 'em, and by the way they called at Sir Christian's, where they arrived time enough to be present the next Day at Sir Christian's Daughter's Wedding, which they kept there for a whole Fortnight.  
FINIS.