There she stopped; and stood up, and looked at me; fear, nevertheless, apparently mingled with her anger.—And so it ought. I was glad, however, of this poor sign of love; no one fears whom they value not.
Women’s tongues were licensed
, I was going to say; but my conscience would not let me call her a woman; nor use to her so vulgar a phrase. I could only rave by my motions, lift up my eyes, spread my hands, rub my face, pull my wig, and look like a fool. Indeed, I had a great mind to run mad. Had I been alone with her, I would; and she should have taken consequences.
The Captain interposed in my behalf; gently, however, and as a man not quite sure that he was himself acquitted. Some of the pleas we had both insisted on he again enforced; and, speaking low, Poor gentleman! said he, who can but pity him? Indeed, Madam, it is easy to see, with all his failings, the power you have over him!
Cl. I have no pleasure, Sir, in distressing anyone; not even him, who has so much distressed me. But, Sir, when I think, and when I see him before me, I cannot command my temper! Indeed, indeed, Captain Tomlinson, Mr. Lovelace has not acted by me either as a grateful or a generous man, nor even as a prudent one!—He knows not, as I told him yesterday, the value of the heart he has insulted!
There the angel stopped; her handkerchief at her eyes.
O Belford, Belford! that she should so greatly excel, as to make me, at times, appear as a villain in my own eyes!
I besought her pardon. I promised that it should be the study of my whole life to deserve it. My faults, I said, whatever they had been, were rather faults in her apprehension than in fact. I besought her to give way to the expedient I had hit upon—I repeated it. The Captain enforced it, for her uncle’s sake. I, once more, for the sake of the general reconciliation; for the sake of all my family; for the sake of preventing further mischief.
She wept. She seemed staggered in her resolution—she turned from me. I mentioned the letter of Lord M. I besought her to resign to Lady Betty’s mediation all our differences, if she would not forgive me before she saw her.
She turned towards me—she was going to speak; but her heart was full, and again she turned away her eyes—And do you really and indeed expect Lady Betty and Miss Montague?—And do you—Again she stopped.
I answered in a solemn manner.
She turned from me her whole face, and paused, and seemed to consider. But, in a passionate accent, again turning towards me, (O how difficult, Jack, for a Harlowe spirit to forgive!) Let her Ladyship come, if she pleases, said she, I cannot, cannot, wish to see her; and if I did see her, and she were to plead for you, I cannot wish to hear her! The more I think, the less I can forgive an attempt, that I am convinced was intended to destroy me. (A plaguey strong word for the occasion, supposing she was right!) What has my conduct been, that an insult of such a nature should be offered to me, and it would be a weakness in me to forgive? I am sunk in my own eyes! And how can I receive a visit that must depress me more?
The Captain urged her in my favour with greater earnestness than before. We both even clamoured, as I may say, for mercy and forgiveness. (Didst thou never hear the good folks talk of taking Heaven by storm?)—Contrition repeatedly avowed; a total reformation promised; the happy expedient again urged.
Cl. I have taken my measures. I have gone too far to recede, or to wish to recede. My mind is prepared for adversity. That I have not deserved the evils I have met with is my consolation; I have written to Miss Howe what my intentions are. My heart is not with you—it is against you, Mr. Lovelace. I had not written to you as I did in the letter I left behind me, had I not resolved, whatever became of me, to renounce you forever.
I was full of hope now. Severe as her expressions were, I saw she was afraid that I should think of what she had written. And, indeed, her letter is violence itself.—Angry people, Jack, should never write while their passion holds.
Lovel. The severity you have shown me, Madam, whether by pen or by speech, shall never have place in my remembrance, but for your honor. In the light you have taken things, all is deserved, and but the natural result of virtuous resentment; and I adore you, even for the pangs you have given me.
She was silent. She had employment enough with her handkerchief at her eyes.
Lovel. You lament, sometimes, that you have no friends of your own sex to consult with. Miss Rawlins, I must confess, is too inquisitive to be confided in, (I liked not, thou mayest think, her appeal to Miss Rawlins). She may mean well. But I never in my life knew a person, who was fond of prying into the secrets of others, that was fit to be trusted. The curiosity of such is governed by pride, which is not gratified but by whispering about a secret till it becomes public, in order to show either their consequence, or their sagacity. It is so in every case. What man or woman, who is covetous of power, or of wealth, is covetous of either for the sake of making a right use of it? But in the ladies of my family you may confide. It is their ambition to
