LETTER XVI MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. THURSDAY MORNING, FIVE O'CLOCK, (JUNE 8.)
What a triumph has her sex obtained in my thoughts by this trial, and this resistance?
But if she can now forgive me--can!--she must. Has she not upon her honour already done it?--But how will the dear creature keep that part of her promise which engages her to see me in the morning as if nothing had happened?
She would give the world, I fancy, to have the first interview over!--She had not best reproach me--yet not to reproach me!--what a charming puzzle!--Let her break her word with me at her peril. Fly me she cannot--no appeals lie from my tribunal--What friend has she in the world, if my compassion exert not itself in her favour?--and then the worthy Captain Tomlinson, and her uncle Harlowe, will be able to make all up for me, be my next offence what it may.
As to thy apprehensions of her committing any rashness upon herself, whatever she might have done in her passion, if she could have seized upon her scissors, or found any other weapon, I dare say there is no fear of that from her deliberate mind. A man has trouble enough with these truly pious, and truly virtuous girls; [now I believe there are such;] he had need to have some benefit from, some security in, the rectitude of their minds.
In short, I fear nothing in this lady but grief: yet that's a slow worker, you know; and gives time to pop in a little joy between its sullen fits.