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, andmost 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,
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.
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 anything 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.
If I am to be forgiven, according to your promise, the earlier forgiveness will be most obliging, and will save great pain to yourself, as well as to
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 the least shadow of favour from me, arises from the hoped-for reconciliation with my real friends, not my Judas protector.
I am careless at present of consequences. I hate myself: And who is it I have reason to value?—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 insults not to be thought of with patience.
To Mrs. Lovelace
Madam, I will go to the Commons, and proceed in every particular as if I had not the misfortune to be under your displeasure.
I must insist upon it, that however faulty my passion, on so unexpected an incident, made me appear to a lady of your delicacy, yet my compliance with your entreaties at such a moment (as it gave you an instance of your power over me, which few men could have shown) ought, duly considered, to entitle me to the effects of that solemn promise which was the condition of my obedience.
I hope to find you in a kinder, and, I will say, juster disposition on my return. Whether I get the license, or not, let me beg of you to make the soon you have been pleased to bid me hope for, tomorrow morning. This will reconcile everything, and make me the happiest of men.
The settlements are ready to sign, or will be by night.
For Heaven’s sake, Madam, do not carry your resentment into a displeasure so disproportionate to the offence. For that would be to expose us both to the people below; and, what is of infinite more consequence to us, to Captain Tomlinson. Let us be able, I beseech you, Madam, to assure him, on his next visit, that we are one.
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 word) to find you disposed to bless, by your consent for tomorrow,
What pleasure did I propose to take, how to enjoy the sweet confusion in which I expected to find her, while all was so recent!—But she must, she
