LETTER XXXII MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ. THURSDAY NIGHT.
Confoundedly out of humour with this perverse woman!--Nor wilt thou blame me, if thou art my friend. She regards the concession she made, as a concession extorted from her: and we are but just where we were before she made it.
With great difficulty I prevailed upon her to favour me with her company for one half hour this evening. The necessity I was under to go down to M. Hall was the subject I wanted to talk upon.
I told her, that as she had been so good as to promise that she would endeavour to make herself easy till she saw the Thursday in next week over, I hoped that she would not scruple to oblige me with her word, that I should find her here at my return from M. Hall.
Indeed she would make no such promise. Nothing of this house was mentioned to me, said she: you know it was not. And do you think that I would have given my consent to my imprisonment in it?
I was plaguily nettled, and disappointed too. If I go not down to Mr. Hall, Madam, you'll have no scruple to stay here, I suppose, till Thursday is over?
If I cannot help myself I must--but I insist upon being permitted to go out of this house, whether you leave it or not.
Well, Madam, then I will comply with your commands. And I will go out this very evening in quest of lodgings that you shall have no objections to.
I will have no lodgings of your providing, Sir--I will go to Mrs. Moore's, at Hampstead.
Mrs. Moore's, Madam!--I have no objection to Mrs. Moore's--but will you give me your promise, to admit me there to your presence?
As I do here--when I cannot help it.
Very well, Madam--Will you be so good as to let me know what you intend by your promise to make yourself easy.
To endeavour, Sir, to make myself easy--were the words----
Till you saw what next Thursday would produce?
Ask me no questions that may ensnare me. I am too sincere for the company I am in.
Let me ask you, Madam, What meant you, when you said, 'that, were it not a sin, you would die before you gave me that assurance?'
She was indignantly silent.
You thought, Madam, you had given me room to hope your pardon by it?
When I think I ought to answer you with patience I will speak.
Do you think yourself in my power, Madam?
If I were not--And there she stopt----
Dearest creature, speak out--I beseech you, dearest creature, speak out ----
She was silent; her charming face all in a glow.
Have you, Madam, any reliance upon my honour?
Still silent.
You hate me, Madam! You despise me more than you do the most odious of God's creatures!
You ought to despise me, if I did not.
You say, Madam, you are in a bad house. You have no reliance upon my honour--you believe you cannot avoid me----
She arose. I beseech you, let me withdraw.
I snatched her hand, rising, and pressed it first to my lips, and then to my heart, in wild disorder. She might have felt the bounding mischief ready to burst its bars--You shall go--to your own apartment, if you please--But, by the great God of Heaven, I will accompany you thither!
She trembled--Pray, pray, Mr. Lovelace, don't terrify me so!
Be seated, Madam! I beseech you, be seated!----
I will sit down----
Do then--All my soul is in my eyes, and my heart's blood throbbing at my fingers' ends.
I will--I will--You hurt me--Pray, Mr. Lovelace, don't--don't frighten me so--And down she sat, trembling; my hand still grasping her's.