He asked me then, if I would so far permit him to touch upon the happy day, as to request the presence of Lord M. on the occasion, and to be my father?
Father had a sweet and venerable sound with it, I said. I should be glad to have a father who would own me!
Was not this plain speaking, think you, my dear? Yet it rather, I must own, appears so to me on reflection, than was designed freely at the time. For I then, with a sigh from the bottom of my heart, thought of my own father; bitterly regretting, that I am an outcast from him and from my mother.
Mr. Lovelace I thought seemed a little affected at the manner of my speaking, and perhaps at the sad reflection.
I am but a very young creature, Mr. Lovelace, said I, (and wiped my eyes as I turned away my face), although you have kindly, and in love to me, introduced so much sorrow to me already: so you must not wonder, that the word father strikes so sensibly upon the heart of a child ever dutiful till she knew you, and whose tender years still require the paternal wing.
He turned towards the window—(rejoice with me, my dear, since I seem to be devoted to him, that the man is not absolutely impenetrable!) His emotion was visible; yet he endeavoured to suppress it. Approaching me again; again he was obliged to turn from me; angelic something, he said: but then, obtaining a heart more suitable to his wish, he once more approached me.—For his own part, he said, as Lord M. was so subject to gout, he was afraid, that the compliment he had just proposed to make him, might, if made, occasion a larger suspension than he could bear to think of; and if it did, it would vex him to the heart that he had made it.
I could not say a single word to this, you know, my dear. But you will guess at my thoughts of what he said—so much passionate love, lip-deep! so prudent, and so dutifully patient at heart to a relation he had till now so undutifully despised!—Why, why, am I thrown upon such a man, thought I!
He hesitated, as if contending with himself; and after taking a turn or two about the room, He was at a great loss what to determine upon, he said, because he had not the honour of knowing when he was to be made the happiest of men—Would to God it might that very instant be resolved upon!
He stopped a moment or two, staring in his usual confident way, in my downcast face, (Did I not, O my beloved friend, think you, want a father or a mother just then?) But if he could not, so soon as he wished, procure my consent to a day; in that case, he thought the compliment might as well be made to Lord M. as not, (See, my dear!) since the settlements might be drawn and engrossed in the intervenient time, which would pacify his impatience, as no time would be lost.
You will suppose how I was affected by this speech, by repeating the substance of what he said upon it; as follows.
But, by his soul, he knew not, so much was I upon the reserve, and so much latent meaning did my eye import, whether, when he most hoped to please me, he was not farthest from doing so. Would I vouchsafe to say, whether I approved of his compliment to Lord M. or not?
To leave it to me, to choose whether the speedy day he ought to have urged for with earnestness, should be accelerated or suspended!—Miss Howe, thought I, at that moment, says, I must not run away from this man!
To be sure, Mr. Lovelace, if this matter be ever to be, it must be agreeable to me to have the full approbation of one side, since I cannot have that of the other.
If this matter be ever to be!
Good God! what words are these at this time of day! and full approbation of one side! Why that word approbation? when the greatest pride of all my family is, that of having the honour of so dear a creature for their relation? Would to heaven, my dearest life, added he, that, without complimenting anybody, tomorrow might be the happiest day of my life!—What say you, my angel? with a trembling impatience, that seemed not affected—What say you for tomorrow?
It was likely, my dear, I could say much to it, or name another day, had I been disposed to the latter, with such an hinted delay from him.
I was silent.
Next day, Madam, if not tomorrow?—
Had he given me time to answer, it could not have been in the affirmative, you must think—but, in the same breath, he went on—Or the day after that?—and taking both my hands in his, he stared me into a half-confusion—Would you have had patience with him, my dear?
No, no, said I, as calmly as possible, you cannot think that I should imagine there can be reason for such a hurry. It will be most agreeable, to be sure, for my Lord to be present.
I am all obedience and resignation, returned the wretch, with a self-pluming air, as if he had acquiesced to a proposal made by me, and had complimented me with a great piece of self denial.
Is it not plain, my dear, that he designs to vex
