LETTER XVIII MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. KING'S ARMS, PALL-MALL, THURSDAY, TWO O'CLOCK.
Several billets passed between us before I went out, by the internuncioship of Dorcas: for which reason mine are superscribed by her married name.--She would not open her door to receive them; lest I should be near it, I suppose: so Dorcas was forced to put them under the door (after copying them for thee); and thence to take the answers. Read them, if thou wilt, at this place.
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TO MRS. LOVELACE
Indeed, my dearest life, you carry this matter too far. What will the people below, who suppose us one as to the ceremony, think of so great a niceness? Liberties so innocent! the occasion so accidental!--You will expose yourself as well as me.--Hitherto they know nothing of what has passed. And what indeed has passed to occasion all this resentment?--I am sure you will not, by a breach of your word of honour, give me reason to conclude that, had I not obeyed you, I could have fared no worse.
Most sincerely do I repent the offence given to your delicacy--But must I, for so accidental an occurrence, be branded by such shocking names?-- Vilest of men, and most detestable of plotters, are hard words!--From the pen of such a lady too.
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, in order to take your directions upon some of the subjects we talked of yesterday in the evening.
All that is more than necessary is too much. I claim your promised pardon, and wish to plead it on my knees.
I beg your presence in the dining-room for one quarter of an hour, and I will then leave you for the day, I am,
My dearest life, Your ever adoring and truly penitent LOVELACE.
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TO MR. LOVELACE
I will not see you. I cannot see you. I have no directions to give you. Let Providence decide for me as it pleases.
The more I reflect upon your vileness, your ungrateful, your barbarous vileness, the more I am exasperated against you.
You are the last person whose judgment I will take upon what is or is not carried too far in matters of decency.
'Tis grievous to me to write, or even to think of you at present. Urge me no more then. Once more, I will not see you. Nor care I, now you have made me vile to myself, what other people think of me.
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TO MRS. LOVELACE
Again, Madam, I remind you of your promise: and beg leave to say, I insist upon the performance of it.
Remember, dearest creature, that the fault of a blameable person cannot warrant a fault in one more perfect. Overniceness may be underniceness!
I cannot reproach myself with any thing that deserves this high resentment.
I own that the violence of my passion for you might have carried me beyond fit bounds--but that your commands and adjurations had power over me at such a moment, I humbly presume to say, deserves some consideration.
You enjoin me not to see you for a week. If I have not your pardon before Captain Tomlinson comes to town, what shall I say to him?
I beg once more your presence in the dining-room. By my soul, Madam, I must see you.
I want to consult you about the license, and other particulars of great importance. The people below think us married; and I cannot talk to you upon such 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.