paces, she stopt again; and, as if disliking her road, again seeming to weep, directed her course back towards Hampstead."

I am glad she wept so much, because no heart bursts (be the occasion for the sorrow what it will) which has that kindly relief. Hence I hardly ever am moved at the sight of these pellucid fugitives in a fine woman. How often, in the past twelve hours, have I wished, that I could cry most confoundedly!

"She then saw a coach and four driving towards her empty. She crossed the path she was in, as if to meet it; and seemed to intend to speak to the coachman, had he stopt or spoken first. He as earnestly looked at her. Every one did so who passed her (so the man who dogged her was the less suspected) — Happy rogue of a coachman, hadst thou known whose notice thou didst engage, and whom thou mightest have obliged! — It was the divine Clarissa Harlowe at whom thou gazedst! — mine own Clarissa Ilarlowe! —But it was well for me that thou wert as undistinguishing as the beasts thou drovest; otherwise what a wild-goose chace had I been led!

"The lady, as well as the coachman, in short, seemed to want resolution; the horses kept on [the fellow's head and eyes, no doubt, turned behind him;] and the distance soon lengthened beyond recal. With a wistful eye she looked after him) sighed and

wept again; as the servant, who then slfly passed her observed.

"By this time she had reached the houses. She looked up at every one, as she passed; now and then breathing upon her bared hand, and applying it to her swelled eyes, to abate the redness and dry the tears. At last, seeing a bill up for letting lodgings, she walked backwards and forwards half a dozen times, as if unable to determine what to do. And then went further into the town; and there the fellow being spoken to by one of his familiars, lost her for a few minutes: but he soon saw her come out of a linendrapery shop, attended by a servant-maid, having, as he believed, bought some little matters, and, as it proved, got that maidservant to go with her to the house she is now at*.

"The fellow, after waiting about an hour, and not seeing her come out, returned, concluding that she had taken lodgings there."

And here, supposing my narrative of the dramatic kind, ends act the first. And now begins,

Act. n.
Scene, Hampstead Heath continued.

Enter my Rascal. Will having got at all these particulars, by exchanging others as frankly against them, with which I had formerly prepared him both verbally and in writing; I found the people already of my

• Seep. 36.

party, and full of good wishes for my success, repeating to me all they told him.

But he had first acquainted me with the accounts he had given them of his lady and me. It is necessary that I give thee the particulars of his tale — and I Lave a little time upon my hands; for the maid of the house, who had been out of an errand, tells us, that she saw Mrs. Moore [with whom must be my first business] go into the house of a young gentleman, within a few doors other, who has a maiden sister, Miss Rawlins by name, so notify'd for prudence, that none of her acquaintance undertake any thing of consequence without consulting her.

Meanwhile my honest coachman is walking about Miss Rawlins's door, in order to bring me notice of Mrs. Moore's return to her own house. I hope her gossip's-tale will be as soon told as mine. Which take as follows.

Will told them, before I came, "That his lady was but lately married to one of the finest gentlemen in the world. But that he, being very gay and lively, she was mortal jealous of him; and in a fit of that sort, had eloped from him. For although she lovedhim dearly, and he doated upon her (as well he might, since, as they had seen, she was the finest creature that ever the sun shone upon;) yet she was apt to be very wilful and sullen, it he might take the liberty to say so— but truth was truth; — and if she could not have her own way in every thing, would be for leaving

him. That she had three or four times played his master such tricks; but with all the virtue and innocence in the world; running away to an intimate friend of hers, who though a young lady of honour, was Dut too indulgent to her in this her only failing; for which reason his master had brought her to London lodgings; their usual residence being in the country: and that, on his refusing to satisfy her about a lady he had been seen with in St. James's Park, she had for the first time since she came to town, served his master thus: whom he had left half distracted on that account."

And truly well he might, poor gentleman! cried the honest folks, pitying me before they saw me.

"He told them how he came by his intelligence of her; and made himself such an interest with them, that they helped him to a change of clothes for himself; and the landlord, at his request, privately inquired, if the lady actually remained at Mrs. Moore's; and for how long she had taken the lodgings: which he found only to be for a week certain: but she had said that she believed she should hardly stay so long. And then it was that he wrote his letter, and sent it by honest Peter Patrick, as thou hast heard."

When I came, my person and dress having answered Will's description, the people were ready to worship me. I now and then sighed, now and then put on a lighter air; which, however, 1 designed should shew more of vexation ill-disguised, than of real cheerfulness: and they told Will it was a thousand pities so fine a lady should have such skittish tricks; adding, that she might expose herself to great dangers by them; for there were rakes every where {Lovelaces in every corner, Jack!] and many about that town, who would leave nothing unattempted to get into her company: and although they might not prevail upon her, yet might they nevertheless hurt her reputation; and, in time estrange the affections of so fine a gentleman from her.

Good sensible people these! —

Here, landlord; one word with you. —My servant, I find, has acquainted you with the reason of my coming this way. An unhappy affair, landlord! a very unhappy affair! but ever was there a more virtuous woman.

So, sir, she seems to be. A thousand pities her ladyship has such ways — and to so goodhumoured a gentleman as you seem to be, sir.

Mother-spoilt, landlord! — mother-spoilt! that's the thing! — but, sighing, I must make the best of it. What I want you to do for me, is to lend me a great coat. I care not what it is. If my spouse should see me at a distance, she would make it very difficult for me to get at her speech. A great coat with a cape, if you have one. I must come upon her before she is aware.

I am afraid, sir, I have none fit for such a gentleman as you.

O, any thing will do! the worse the better.

Exit landlord. Re-enter with two great-coats.

Ay, landlord, this will be best; for I can button the cape over the lower part of my face. Don't I look devilishly down and concerned, landlord?

I never saw a gentleman with a better natured look. 'Tis a pity you should have such trials, sir.

I must be very unhappy, no doubt of it, landlord. And yetl am a little pleased, you must needs think, that I have found her out before any great inconvenience has arisen to her. However, if I cannot break her of these freaks, she'll break my heart; fop I do love her with all her failings.

The good woman, who was within hearing of all this, pitied me much.

Pray, your honour, said she, if I may be so bold, was madam ever a mamma?

No! — And I sighed — we have been but a little while married; and as I may say to you, it is her own fault that she is not in that way [not a word of a lie in this, Jack]. But to tell you truth, madam, she may be compared to the dog in the manger —

I understand you, sir, [simpering] — She is but young, sir. I have heard of one or two such skittish young ladies, in my time, sir — but when madam is in that way, I dare say, as she loves you (and it would be strange if she did not!) all this will be over, and she may make the best of wives.

That's all my hope.

She is as fine a lady as I ever beheld. I hope, sir, you won't be too severe, She'll get over all these freaks, if once she be a mamma, I warrant.

I can't be severe to her; she knows that. The moment I see her, all resentmentisoverwithme, if she give me but one kind look.

All this time, I was adjusting my horseman's coat, and Will was buttoning the cape over my chin.

I asked the woman for a little powder. She brought me a powder-box, and I lightly shook the puff over my hat, and flapt one side of it, though the lace looked a little too gay for my covering; and slouching it over my eyes — Shall I be known, think you, madam?

Your honour is so expert, sir! I wish, if I maybe so bold, your lady has not some cause to be jealous. But it will be impossible, if you keep your laced clothes covered, that any body should know you in that dress to be the same gentleman — except they find you out by your clocked stockings.

Well observed — can't you, landlord, lend or sell me a pair of stockings, that will draw over these?

I can cut off the feet, if they won't go into my shoes.

He could let me have a pair of coarse, but clean, stirrupstockings, if I pleased.

The best in the world for the purpose.

He fetched them. Will drew them on; and my legs then made a good gouty appearance.

The good woman, smiling, wished me success: and so did the landlord: and as thou kuowest that I am not a bad mimic, I took a cane, which I borrowed of the landlord, and stooped in the shoulders to a quarter of a foot of less height, and stumped away cross to the bowling-green, to practise a little the hobbling gait of a gouty man. The landlady whispered her husband, as Will tells me, He's a good one, I warrant him — I dare say the fault lies not at all of one side. While mine host replied, that I was so lively and so good-natured a gentleman, that he did not know who could be angry with me, do what I would. A sensible fellow! — I wish my charmer were of the same opinion.

And now I am going to try, if I can't agree with Goody Moore for lodgings and other conveniences for my sick wife.

"Wife, Lovelace?" methinks thou interrogatest.

Yes, wife, for who knows what cautions the dear fugitive may have given in apprehension of me?

"But has Goody Moore any other lodgings to let?"

Yes, yes; I have taken care of that; and find that she has just such conveniences as I want. And I know that my wife will like them. For although married, I can do every thing I please; and that's a bold word, you know. But had she only a garret to let, I would have liked it; and been a poor author afraid of arrests, and made that my place ofrefuge; yet would have made shift to pay beforehand for what I had. I can suit myself to any condition, that's my comfort.

* * # TnE widow Moore returned! say you — Down, down, flutterer! — This impertinent heart is more troublesome to me than my conscience, I think. — I shall be obliged to hoarsen my voice, and roughen my character, to keep up with its puppily dancings.

But let me see, shall I be angry or pleased, when I am admittedto my beloved's presence?

Angry, to be sure. — Has she not broken her word with me? at a time too when I was meditating to do her grateful justice? — And is not breach of word a dreadful crime in good folks? I have ever been for forming my judgment of the nature of things and actions, not so much from what they are in themselves, as from the character of the actors. Thus it would be as odd a thing in such as we to keep our words with a woman, as it would be wicked in her to break hers to us.

Seest thou not that this unseasonable gravity is admitted to quell the palpitations of this unmanageable heart? But still it will go on with its boundings. I'll try, as I ride in my chariot, to tranquillize.

Ride, Bob! so little a way?

Yes, ride, Jack; for am I not lame? and will it not look well to have a lodger who keeps his cha

riot? What widow, what servant, asks questions of a man with an equipage?

My coachman, as well as my other servant, is under Will's tuition.

Never was there such a hideous rascal as he has made himself. The devil only and his other master can know him. They both have set their marks upon him. As to my honour's mark, it will never be out of his dn'd wide mothe, as he calls it. For the dog will be hanged before he can lose the rest of his teeth by age.

I am gone.

Letter vm.

Mr. Lovelace to John Belford, Esq.

Hampstead, Friday night, June 9. Now, Belford, for the narrative of narratives. I will continue it, as I have opportunity; and that so dexterously, that if I break off twenty times, thou shalt not discern where I piece my thread.

Although grievously afflicted with the gout, I alighted out of my chariot (leaning very hard on my cane with one hand, and my new servant's shoulder with the other) the same instant almost that he had knocked at the door, that I might be sure of admission into the house.

I took care to button my great coat about me, and to cover with it even the pummel of my sword, being a little too gay for my years. I knew not what occasion I might have for my sword. I stooped forward; blinked with my eyes to

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