Widow Bloomer triumph’d some Time longer over the Heart of this Inconstant, but at length her Sway was at an End, and she sunk in this Character, to the same Degree of Tastelesness, as she had done before in that of Fantomina and Celia.—She presently perceiv’d it, but bore it as she had always done; it being but what she expected, she had prepar’d herself for it, and had another Project in embrio, which she soon ripen’d into Action. She did not, indeed, compleat it altogether so suddenly as she had done the others, by reason there must be Persons employ’d in it; and the Aversion she had to any Confidents in her Affairs, and the Caution with which she had hitherto acted, and which she was still determin’d to continue, made it very difficult for her to find a Way without breaking thro’ that Resolution to compass what she wish’d.—She got over the Difficulty at last, however, by proceeding in a Manner, if possible, more extraordinary than all her former Behaviour:—Muffling herself up in her Hood one Day, she went into the Park about the Hour when there are a great many necessitous Gentlemen, who think themselves above doing what they call little Things for a Maintenance, walking in the Mall, to take a Camelion Treat, and fill their Stomachs with Air instead of Meat. Two of those, who by their Physiognomy she thought most proper for her Purpose, she beckon’d to come to her; and taking them into a Walk more remote from Company, began to communicate the Business she had with them in these Words: I am sensible, Gentlemen, (said she,) that, through the Blindness of Fortune, and Partiality of the World, Merit frequently goes unrewarded, and that those of the best Pretentions meet with the least Encouragement:—I ask your Pardon, (continued she,) perceiving they seem’d surpris’d, if I am mistaken in the Notion, that you two may, perhaps, be of the Number of those who have Reason to complain of the Injustice of Fate; but if you are such as I take you for, have a Proposal to make you, which may be of some little Advantage to you. Neither of them made any immediate Answer, but appear’d bury’d in Consideration for some Moments. At length,We should, doubtless, Madam, (said one of them,) willingly come into any Measures to oblige you, provided they are such as may bring us into no Danger, either as to our Persons or Reputations. That which I require of you, (resumed she,) has nothing in it criminal:All that I desire is Secrecy in what you are intrusted, and to disguise yourselves in such a Manner as you cannot be known, if hereafter seen by the Person on whom you are to impose.—In fine, the Business is only an innocent Frolick, but if blaz’d abroad, might be taken for too great a Freedom in me:—Therefore, if you resolve to assist me, here are five Pieces to drink my Health, and assure you, that I have not discours’d you on an Affair, I design not to proceed in; and when it is accomplish’d fifty more lie ready for your
Acceptance.These Words, and, above all, the Money, which was a Sum which, ’tis probable, they had not seen of a long Time, made them immediately assent to all she desir’d, and press for the Beginning of their Employment: But Things were not yet ripe for Execution; and she told them, that the next Day they should be let into the Secret, charging them to meet her in the same Place at an Hour she appointed. ’Tis hard to say, which of these Parties went away best pleas’d; they, that Fortune had sent them so unexpected a Windfall; or she, that she had found Persons, who appeared so well qualified to serve her.
Indefatigable in the Pursuit of whatsoever her Humour was bent upon, she had no sooner left her new-engag’d Emissaries, than she went in search of a House for the compleating her Project.—She pitch’d on one very large, and magnificently furnished, which she hir’d by the Week, giving them the Money before-hand, to prevent any Inquiries.The next Day she repaired to the Park, where she met the punctual ’Squires of low Degree; and ordering them to follow her to the House she had taken, told them they must condescend to appear like Servants, and gave each of them a very rich Livery.1 Then writing a Letter to Beauplaisir, in a Character vastly different from either of those she had made use of, as Fantomina, or the fair Widow Bloomer,order’d one of them to deliver it into his own Hands, to bring back an Answer, and to be careful that he sifted out nothing of the Truth.—I do not fear, (said she,) that you should discover to him who I am, because that is a Secret, of which you yourselves are ignorant; but I would have you be so careful in your Replies, that he may not think the Concealment springs from any other Reasons than your great Integrity to your Trust.—Seem therefore to know my whole Affairs; and let your refusing to make him Partaker in the Secret, appear to be only the Effect of your Zeal for my Interest and Reputation. Promises of entire Fidelity on the one side, and Reward on the other, being past, the Messenger made what haste he could to the House of Beauplaisir; and being there told where he might find him, perform’d exactly the Injunction that had been given him. But never Astonishment exceeding that which Beauplaisir felt at the reading this Billet, in which he found these Lines:
To the All-conquering Beauplaisir.
I IMAGINE not that ’tis a new Thing to you, to be told, you are the greatest Charm in Nature to our Sex: I shall therefore, not to fill up my Letter with any impertinent Praises on your Wit or Person, only tell you, that I am infinite in Love with both, and if you have a Heart not too deeply engag’d, should think myself the happiest of my Sex in being capable of inspiring it with some Tenderness.—There is but one Thing in my Power to refuse you, which is the Knowledge of my Name, which believing the Sight of my Face will render no Secret, you must not take it ill that I conceal from you.—The Bearer of this is a Person I can trust; send by him your Answer; but endeavour not to dive into the Meaning of this Mystery, which will be impossible for you to unravel, and at the same Time very much disoblige me:—But that you may be in no Apprehensions of being impos’d on by a Woman unworthy of your Regard, I will venture to assure you, the first and greatest Men in the Kingdom, would think themselves blest to have that Influence over me you have, though unknown to yourself acquii d.—But I need not go about to raise your Curiosity, by giving you any Idea of what my Person is; if you think fit to be satisfied, resolve to visit me To-morrow about Three in the Afternoon; and though my Face is hid, you shall not want sufficient Demonstration, that she who takes these unusual Measures to commence a Friendship with you, is neither Old, nor Deform’d.Till then I am,
Yours,
Incognita.
HE had scarce come to the Conclusion, before he ask’d the Person who brought it, from what Place he came;—the Name of the Lady he serv’d;—ifshe were a Wife, orWidow,and several other Questions directly opposite to the Directions of the Letter; but Silence would have avail’d him as much as did all those Testimonies of Curiosity: No Italian Bravo, employ’d in a Business of the like Nature, perform’d his Office with more Artifice; and the impatient Enquirer was convinc’d, that nothing but doing as he was desir’d, could give him any Light into the Character of the Woman who declar’d so violent a Passion for him; and little fearing any Consequence which could ensue from such an Encounter, resolv’d to rest satisfy’d till he was inform’d of every Thing from herself, not imagining this Incognita varied so much from the Generality of her Sex, as to be able to refuse the Knowledge of any Thing to the Man she lov’d with that Transcendency of Passion she profess’d, and which his many Successes with the Ladies gave him Encouragement enough to believe. He therefore took Pen and Paper, and answer’d her Letter in Terms tender enough for a Man who had never seen the Person to whom he wrote.The Words were as follows:
To the Obliging and Witty Incognita.
THOUGH to tell me I am happy enough to be lik’d by a Woman, such, as by your Manner of Writing, I imagine you to be, is an Honour which I can never sufficiently acknowledge, yet I know not how I am able to content myself with admiring the Wonders of your Wit alone: I am certain, a Soul like yours must shine in your Eyes with a Vivacity, which must bless all they look on.—I shall, however, endeavour to restrain myself in those Bounds you are pleas’d to set me, till by the Knowledge of my inviolable Fidelity, I may be thought