[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

It is all like a dream, &longs;aid Meli&longs;&longs;a, as the chai&longs;e
drove off; a &longs;ort of confu&longs;ed, di&longs;agreeable dream,
from which I &longs;hall be glad to awake—but pray, Sir,
if it be not trouble&longs;ome, will you tell me the meaning
of &longs;ome words which you dropped concerning
Cogdie? what woman has he ruined, and whom
has he defrauded?

I will tell you, Madam, &longs;aid I—&longs;he was all attention.

Five years &longs;ince, a friend of mine died and left
a lovely orphan daughter to my care.—Olivia was
young and inexperienced in the ways of the world.—
I was gay and fond of company—the hou&longs;e of a
young gentleman of fortune is not a fit &longs;anctuary for
innocence and beauty. I loved Olivia like a &longs;i&longs;ter—
I would have revenged an in&longs;ult offered her at the
expen&longs;e of my life, but &longs;he required the tender solicitude
of a mother, the &longs;edate mature advice of a father.—
Her heart was the &longs;eat of &longs;en&longs;ibility, &longs;he was
formed for dome&longs;tic love and felicity—having no paternal
ties, no filial affection to warm her gentle
brea&longs;t—there was an aching void in her heart,
which only love could fill.—Cogdie vi&longs;ited at my
hou&longs;e—he was much older than Olivia, &longs;he was only
&longs;ixteen.—He was attentive to her childi&longs;h pleasures;
her favourite dog was care&longs;&longs;ed—he would
feed her Goldfinch, talk to her parrot, and bring her
no&longs;egays.—I was not of a &longs;u&longs;picious temper, but
placed an implicit confidence in Cogdie, who, by a
thou&longs;and arts, had ingratiated him&longs;elf into my favour.
It was not long before I ob&longs;erved Olivia grew pale
and thin; &longs;he had lo&longs;t her chearfulne&longs;s, and I frequently
found her in tears. Imagining &longs;he might
be &longs;olitary for want of a female companion, I

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

proposed her going into the country to an old lady, a
friend of mine, who had a daughter but three years
older than her&longs;elf—&longs;he con&longs;ented, and two days after
was appointed for her departure. When the appointed
morning came, &longs;he was not to be found. I
&longs;ent to all her acquaintance in vain.—I cannot describe
my di&longs;tre&longs;s—I told my affliction to Cogdie;
he con&longs;oled me, and flattered me with hopes I might
yet find her—I was happy to think I had &longs;uch a
friend. Three weeks pa&longs;&longs;ed on, and I never heard
of my Olivia—Cogdie had frequently mentioned his
being &longs;ometimes employed by a capital merchant at
Hamburgh, with whom I was acquainted when abroad—
He came to me one morning and &longs;hewed
a letter in which he was de&longs;ired to &longs;end the merchant
a ring, the mo&longs;t valuable that could be procured.—
I wonder, &longs;aid Cogdie, why he has not &longs;ent me the
money to purcha&longs;e this ring; he knows my circumstances
are not the mo&longs;t affluent. He &longs;eemed distressed
at not being able to get &longs;o valuable a ring on
credit.—I &longs;ent him to my jeweller; the ring was
ordered, and it came to near eight hundred and fifty
pounds—he took it away in ha&longs;te one morning,
as he &longs;aid, to &longs;end it to Hamburgh; and I never &longs;aw
him again, till a few days &longs;ince, when I was informed
he was one of the mo&longs;t noted gamblers about
town. I had given up all thoughts of ever finding
Olivia, when going out one evening—