ther than be the wife of one who could act by me, as the man has acted, upon whose birth, education, and honour, I had so much reason to found better expectations.

6

I see,' continued she, that I, who once was every one's delight, am now the cause of grief to every one-you, that are strangers to me, are moved for me! 'Tis kind!-But 'tis time to stop. Your compassionate hearts, Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Lovick, are too much touched' [for the women sobbed, and the man was also affected.] It is barbarous in me, with my woes, thus to sadden your wedding-day.' Then turning to Mr. and Mrs. Smith May you see many happy ones, honest, good couple!-How agreeable is it to see you both join so kindly to celebrate it, after many years are gone over you!-I once-but no more! -All my prospects of felicity, as to this life, are at an end. My hopes, like opening buds or blossoms in an over-forward spring, have been nipt by a severe frost !-blighted by an eastern wind!-But I can but once die; and if life be spared me, but till I am discharged from a heavy malediction, which my father in his wrath laid upon me, and which is fulfilled literally in every article relating to this world; that, and a last blessing, are all I have to wish for; and death will be welcomer to me, than rest to the most wearied traveller that ever reached his journey's end.'

And then she sunk her head against the back of her chair, and, hiding her face with her handkerchief, endeavoured to conceal her tears from us.

Not a soul of us could speak a word. Thy presence, perhaps, thou hardened wretch, might have made us ashamed of a weakness which perhaps thou wilt deride me in particular for, when thou readest this!

She retired to her chamber soon after, and was forced, it seems, to lie down. We all went down together; and for an hour and a half, dwelt upon her praises; Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Lovick repeatedly expressing their astonishment, that there could be a man in the world capable of offending, much more of wilfully injuring, such a lady; and repeating, that they had an angel in their house.— I thought they had; and that as assuredly as there is a devil under the roof of good Lord M.

I hate thee heartily!-By my faith I do!Every hour I hate thee more than the former !——

J. BELFORD.

LETTER LXXXII.

MR. LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

Saturday, July 22.

WHAT dost hate me for, Belford ?—And why more and more? Have I been guilty of any offence thou knewest not before?-If pathos can move such a heart as thine, can it alter facts?-Did I not always do this incomparable creature as much justice as thou canst do her for the heart of thee, or as she can do herself?-What nonsense then thy hatred, thy augmented hatred, when I still persist to marry her, pursuant to word given to thee, and to faith plighted to all my relations! But hate, if thou wilt, so thou dost but write. Thou canst not hate me so much as I do myself: and yet I know if thou really hatedst me, thou wouldst not venture to tell me so. Well, but after all, what need of her history to these women? She will certainly repent, some time hence, that she has thus needlessly exposed us both.

:

Sickness palls every appetite, and makes us hate what we loved but renewed health changes the scene; disposes us to be pleased with ourselves; and then we are in a way to be pleased with every one else. Every hope, then, rises upon us: every hour presents itself to us on dancing feet: and what Mr. Addison says of liberty, may, with still greater propriety, be said of health [for what is liberty itself without health?]

It makes the gloomy face of nature gay;

Gives beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.

And I rejoice that she is already so much better, as to hold, with strangers, such a long and interesting

conversation.

Strange, confoundedly strange, and as perverse [that is to say, as womanly] as strange, that she should refuse, and sooner choose to die [O the obscene word! and yet how free does thy pen make with it to me!] than be mine, who offended her by acting in character, while her parents acted shamefully out of theirs, and when I am now willing to act out of my own, to oblige her; yet I not to be forgiven! they to be faultless with her!-And marriage the only medium to repair all breaches, and to salve her own honour!-Surely thou must see the inconsistence of her forgiving unforgiveness, as I may call it !—Yet, heavy varlet as thou art, thou wantest to be drawn up after her! And what a figure dost thou make with thy speeches, stiff as Hickman's ruffles, with thy aspirations and prostrations!-Unused, thy weak head, to bear the sublimities, that fall even in common conversation, from the lips of this ever charming creature!

But the prettiest whim of all was, to drop the bank note behind her chair, instead of presenting it on thy knees to her hand?-To make such a wo.

man as this doubly stoop-by the acceptance, and to take it from the ground!-What an ungrateful benefit-conferer art thou!-How awkward, to take it into thy head, that the best way of making a present to a lady, was to throw the present behind her chair!

I am very desirous to see what she has written to her sister; what she is about to write to Miss Howe; and what return she will have from the Harlowe Arabella. Canst thou not form some scheme to come at the copies of these letters, or at the substance of them at least, and of that of her other correspondences? Mrs. Lovick, thou seemest to say, is a pious woman. The lady, having given such a particular history of herself, will acquaint her with every thing. And art thou not about to reform!-Won't this consent of minds between thee and the widow [what age is she, Jack? The devil never trumpt up a friendship between a man and a woman, of any thing like years, which did not end in matrimony, or in the ruin of their morals! Won't it] strike out an intimacy between ye, that may enable thee to gratify me in this particular? A proselyte, I can tell thee, has great influence upon your good people: such a one is a saint of their own creation and they will water, and cultivate, and cherish him, as a plant of their own raising: and this from a pride truly spiritual!

One of my loves in Paris was a devotée. She took great pains to convert me. I gave way to her kind endeavours for the good of my soul. She thought it a point gained to make me profess some religion. The catholic has its conveniences. I permitted her to bring a father to me. My reformation went on swimmingly. The father had hopes of me: he applauded her zeal : so did I. And how dost think it ended?--Not a girl in England, read

ing thus far, but would guess!-In a word, very happily for she not only brought me a father, but made me one: and then, being satisfied with each other's conversion, we took different routes: she into Navarre; I into Italy: both well inclined to propagate the good lessons in which we had so well instructed each other.

But to return. One consolation arises to me, from the pretty regrets which this admirable creature seems to have in indulging reflections on the people's wedding-day.-I ONCE!-thou makest her break off with saying

She once! What?-O Belford! why didst thou not urge her to explain what she once hoped?

What once a woman hopes, in love matters, she always hopes, while there is room for hope: and are we not both single? Can she be any man's but mine? Will I be any woman's but hers?

I never will! I never can!—And I tell thee, that I am every day, every hour, more and more in love with her; and, at this instant, have a more vehement passion for her than ever I had in my life !— And that with views absolutely honourable, in her own sense of the word: nor have I varied, so much as in wish, for this week past; firmly fixed, and wrought into my very nature, as the life of honour, or of generous confidence in me, was, in preference to the life of doubt and distrust. That must be a life of doubt and distrust, surely, where the woman confides nothing, and ties up a man for his good behaviour for life, taking church and state sanctions in aid of the obligations she imposes upon him.

I shall go on Monday evening to a kind of ball, to which Colonel Ambrose has invited me. It is given on a family account. I care not on what : for all that delights me in the thing is, that Mrs. and