counsellor will have finished the carry this matter too far. What writings to-day or to-morrow, at will the people below, who supfurthest the licence with the pose us one as to the ceremony, parson, or the parson without the think of so great a niceness? licence, must be also procured Liberties so innocent! the ocwithin the next four-and-twenty casion so accidental! You will hours; Pritchard is as good as expose yourself as well as me. ready with his indentures tri- Hitherto they know nothing of partite Tomlinson is at hand what has passed. And what inwith a favourable answer from her deed has passed, to occasion all uncle yet not to see her for a this resentment? I am sure, week! Dear, sweet soul! her you will not, by a breach of your good angel is gone a journey: is word of honour, give me reason to truanting at least. But neverthe- conclude that had I not obeyed less, in thy week's time, or in you, I could have fared no worse. much less, my charmer, I doubt Most sincerely do I repent the not to complete my triumph! offence given to your delicacyBut what vexes me of all things, but must I, for so accidental an is, that such an excellent creature occurrence, be branded by such should break her word: fie, shocking names? Vilest of men, fie, upon her! But nobody is and most detestable of plotters, are absolutely perfect! 'Tis human to hard words! - From the pen of err, but not to persevere I hope such a lady too. my charmer cannot be inhuman! LETTER II. Mr. Lovelace to John Belford, Esq. If you step up another pair of stairs, you will be convinced, that however detestable I may be to you, I am no plotter in this affair. I must insist upon seeing you, two o'clock. in order to take your directions SEVERAL billets passed between upon some of the subjects we us before I went out, by the inter- talked of yesterday in the evennuncioship of Dorcas: for which ing. reason mine are superscribed by All that is more than necessary is her married name. She would too much. I claim your promised not open her door to receive them; pardon, and wish to plead it on lest I should be near it, I suppose. my knees. So Dorcas was forced to put them I beg your presence in the under the door (after copying dining-room for one quarter of an them for thee); and thence to hour, and I will then leave you take the answers. Read them, if for the day. I am, thou wilt, at this place. TO MRS. LOVELACE. INDEED, my dearest life, you My dearest life, your ever adoring and truly penitent LOVELACE. TO MR. LOVELACE. comes to town, what shall I say to him? I WILL not see you. I cannot see you. I have no directions to I beg once more your presence give you. Let Providence decide in the dining-room. By my soul, for me as it pleases. madam, I must see you. The more I reflect upon your I want to consult you about the vileness, your ungrateful, your licence, and other particulars of barbarous vileness, the more I am great importance. The people below think us married; and I exasperated against you. You are the last person, whose cannot talk to you upon such judgment I will take upon what is subjects with the door between us. For Heaven's sake, favour me with your presence for a few minutes: and I will leave you for the day. or is not carried too far in matters of decency. even to think of 'Tis grievous to me to write, or at present. you Urge me no more then. Once If I am to be forgiven, accordmore, I will not see you. Nor care ing to your promise, the earliest I, now you have made me vile to forgiveness will be most obliging, myself, what other people think and will save great pain to yourself, as well as to of me. Your truly contrite and afflicted TO MR. LOVELACE. THE more you tease me, the worse it will be for you. Time is wanted to consider whether I ever should think of you at all. At present, it is my sincere wish, that I may never more see your face. All that can afford you that least shadow of favour from me, arises from the hoped-for reconciliation with my real friends, not my Judas protector. I own that the violence of my passion for you might have carried me beyond fit bounds but that your commands and adjura- I am careless at present of contions had power over me at such sequences. I hate myself: and a moment, I humbly presume to who is it I have reason to value? say, deserves some consideration. You enjoin me not to see you for a week. If I have not your pardon before Captain Tomlinson Not the man who could form a plot to disgrace his own hopes, as well as a poor friendless creature (made friendless by himself) by iu sults not to be thought of with patience. TO MRS. LOVELACE. MADAM, As I have no hope to be permitted to dine with you, I shall not return till evening: and then, I presume to say, I expect (your promise authorizes me to use the I WILL go to the Commons, and word) to find you disposed to proceed in every particular as if I bless, by your consent for tohad not the misfortune to be under morrow, your displeasure. Your adoring I must insist upon it, that however faulty my passion on so unexpected an incident, made me What pleasure did I propose to appear to a lady of your delicacy, take, how to enjoy the sweet conyet my compliance with your en- fusion in which I expected to find treaties at such a moment (as it her, while all was so recent! But gave you an instance of your she must, she shall, see me on my power over me, which few men return. It were better for herself, could have shown) ought, duly as well as for me, that she had not considered, to entitle me to the made so much ado about nothing. effects of that solemn promise I must keep my anger alive, lest which was the condition of my it sink into compassion. Love and obedience. compassion, be the provocation I hope to find you in a kinder, ever so great, are hard to be seand, I will say, juster disposition parated: while anger converts on my return. Whether I get the what would be pity without it, licence, or not, let me beg of you into resentment. Nothing can be to make the soon you have been lovely in a man's eye, with which pleased to bid me hope for, to- he is thoroughly displeased. morrow morning. This will reconcile every thing, and make me the happiest of men. The settlements are ready to sign, or will be by night. I ordered Dorcas on putting the last billet under the door, and finding it taken up, to tell her, that I hoped an answer to it before I went out. For Heaven's sake, madam, do Her reply was verbal, Tell him not carry your resentment into a that I care not whither he goes, nor displeasure so disproportionate to what he does. And this, reurged the offence. For that would be, by Dorcas, was all she had to say to expose us both to the people to me. below; and, what is of infinite more I looked through the key-hole consequence to us, to Captain at my going by her door, and saw Tomlinson. Let us be able, I beseech you, madam, to assure him, on his next visit, that we are one. her on her knees, at her bed's feet, her head and bosom on the bed, her arms extended, [sweet creature, how I adore her!] and in an agony - she seemed to be, sobbing, as I more gracious. I would allow heard at that distance, as if her her to resent [not because the liheart would break- by my soul, berties I took with her require reJack, I am a pity-ful fellow. Re- sentment, were she not a CLAcollection is my enemy! - Divine RISSA; but as it becomes her parexcellence! Happy with her for ticular niceness to resent]: but so many days together! Now so would she shew more love than unhappy! And for what? abhorrence of me in her resentBut she is purity itself. And why, ment; would she seem, if it were after all, should I thus torment but to seem, to believe the fire no but I must not trust myself with device, and all that followed myself, in the humour I am in. merely accidental; and descend, upon it, to tender expostulation, WAITING here for Mowbray and and upbraiding for the advantage Mallory, by whose aid I am to get I would have taken of her surthe licence, I took papers out of prise; and would she, at last, be samy pocket, to divert myself; and tisfied (as well she may) that it was thy last popt officiously the first attended with no further conseinto my hand. I gave it the ho- quence; and place some generous nour of a re-perusal; and this re- confidence in my honour [power vived the subject with me, with loves to be trusted, Jack;] I think I which I had resolved not to trust would put an end to all her trials, myself. and pay her my vows at the altar. Yet to have taken such bold * * * To have made such a I remember, that the dear creature, in her torn answer to my steps, as with Tomlinson and her proposals, says, that condescension uncle. is not meanness. She better knows progress O Belford, Belford, how to make this out, than any how have I puzzled myself, as mortal breathing. Condescension well as her! This cursed averindeed implies dignity: and dignity sion to wedlock how has it enever was there in her condescen- tangled me! What contradicsion. Yet such a dignity as gave tions has it made me guilty of! grace to the condescension; for How pleasing to myself, to look there was no pride, no insult, no back upon the happy days I gave apparent superiority, indicated her: though mine would doubtby it this, Miss Howe con- less have been more unmixedly firms to be a part of her general so, could I have determined to character.* lay aside my contrivances, and to I can tell her, how she might be as sincere all the time, as she behave, to make me her own for deserved that I should be! ever. She knows she cannot fly If I find this humour hold but me. She knows she must see me till to-morrow morning, [and it sooner or later; the sooner the has now lasted two full hours, and I seem, methinks, to have pleasure * See Vol. II. p. 269. in encouraging it] I will make thee To have her condescend to bear a visit, I think, or get thee to come with my follies! To wound me to me; and then will I consult with an eye of pity! A daughter of the Harlowes thus to excel the last, and as I have heretofore said, not the meanest of the Lovelaces forbid it! thee upon it. But she will not trust me. She will not confide in my honour. Doubt, in this case, is defiance. She loves me not well enough to for do I forgive me generously. She is so not now do I not every moment greatly above me! How can I for- see her before me all over me. Yet forbid it not give her for a merit so mortifying charms, and elegance and purity, to my pride! She thinks, she knows, as in the struggles of the past she has told me, that she is above midnight? And in these struggles, These words are still in my heart, voice, eyes, hands, and senears, "Begone, Lovelace! My timents, so greatly, so gloriously soul is above thee, man! Thou consistent with the character she hast a proud heart to contend has sustained from her cradle to with! My soul is above thee, the present hour? man*!" Miss Howe thinks her But what advantages do I give above me too. Thou, even thou, thee? my friend, my intimate friend Yet have I not always done her and companion, art of the same justice? Why then thy teasing opinion. Then I fear her as much impertinence? as I love her. How shall my However, I forgive thee, Jack pride bear these reflections? My since (so much generous love wife (as I have so often said, be- am I capable of!) I had rather all cause it so often recurs to my the world should condemn me, thoughts) to be so much my su- than that her character should perior! - Myself to be considered suffer the least impeachment. but as the second person in my The dear creature herself once own family! Canst thou teach told me, that there was a strange me to bear such a reflection as mixture in my mind. ** this! To tell me of my acquisi- I have been called Devil and tion in her, and that she, with all Beelzebub, between the two proud her excellences, will be mine in beauties: I must indeed be a Beelfull property, is a mistake it zebub, if I had not some tolerable cannot be so for shall I not be qualities. hers; and not my own? Will not But as Miss Howe says, the every act of her duty (as I cannot suffering time of this excellent creadeserve it) be a condescension, ture is her shining time.*** Hitherand a triumph over me? And to she has done nothing but shine. must I owe it merely to her good ness that she does not despise me? *See Vol. II. Letter cx. * See Vol. II. p. 51. |