Roxana, The Fortunate Mistress by Daniel Defoe

My faithful agent the Quaker failed not to write to me immediately, but as she was a cunning as well as an honest woman, it presently occurred to her that this was a story which, whether true or false, was not very fit to come to my husband's knowledge; that as she did not know what I might have been, or might have been called in former times, and how far there might have been something or nothing in it, so she thought if it was a secret I ought to have the telling of it myself, and if it was not, it might as well be public afterwards as now; and that, at least, she ought to leave it where she found it, and not hand it forwards to anybody without my consent. These prudent measures were inexpressibly kind as well as seasonable, for it had been likely enough that her letter might have come publicly to me, and though my husband would not have opened it, yet it would have looked a little odd that I should conceal its contents from him when I had pretended so much to communicate all my affairs.

In consequence of this wise caution my good friend only wrote me in a few words that the impertinent young woman had been with her, as she expected she would, and that she thought it would be very convenient that, if I could spare Cherry, I would send her up (meaning Amy), because she found there might be some occasion for her.