But, dearest, dearest creature, let me on my knees (and down I dropped, her face all the time turned half from me, as she stood at the window, her handkerchief often at her eyes) on my knees let me plead your promised forgiveness; and let us not appear to them, on their visit, thus unhappy with each other. Lady Betty, the next hour that she sees you, will write her opinion of you, and of the likelihood of our future happiness, to Lady Sarah her sister, a weak-spirited woman, who now hopes to supply to herself, in my bride, the lost daughter she still mourns for!
The Captain then joined in, and re-urged her uncle’s hopes and expectations, and his resolution effectually to set about the general reconciliation; the mischief that might be prevented; and the certainty that there was that her uncle might be prevailed on to give her to me with his own hand, if she made it her choice to wait for his coming up. But, for his own part, he humbly advised, and fervently pressed her, to make the very next day, or Monday at farthest, my happy day.
Permit me, dearest lady, said he, and I could kneel to you myself, (bending his knee), though I have no interest in my earnestness, but the pleasure I should have to be able to serve you all, to beseech you to give me an opportunity to assure your uncle that I myself saw with my own eyes the happy knot tied!—All misunderstandings, all doubts, all diffidences, will then be at an end.
And what, Madam, rejoined I, still kneeling, can there be in your new measures, be they what they will, that can so happily, so reputably, I will presume to say, for all around, obviate the present difficulties?
Miss Howe herself, if she love you, and if she love your fame, Madam, urged the Captain, his knee still bent, must congratulate you on such happy conclusion.
Then turning her face, she saw the Captain half-kneeling—O Sir! O Capt. Tomlinson!—Why this undue condescension? extending her hand to his elbow, to raise him. I cannot bear this!—Then casting her eye on me, Rise, Mr. Lovelace—kneel not to the poor creature whom you have insulted!—How cruel the occasion for it!—And how mean the submission!
Not mean to such an angel!—Nor can I rise but to be forgiven!
The Captain then re-urged once more the day—he was amazed, he said, if she ever valued me—
O Captain Tomlinson, interrupted she, how much are you the friend of this man!—If I had never valued him, he never would have had it in his power to insult me; nor could I, if I had never regarded him, have taken to heart as I do, the insult (execrable as it was) so undeservedly, so ungratefully given—but let him retire—for a moment let him retire.
I was more than half afraid to trust the Captain by himself with her. He gave me a sign that I might depend upon him. And then I took out of my pocket his letter to me, and Lady Betty’s and Miss Montague’s, and Lord M.’s letters (which last she had not then seen); and giving them to him, procure for me, in the first place, Mr. Tomlinson, a re-perusal of these three letters; and of this from Lord M. And I beseech you, my dearest life, give them due consideration: and let me on my return find the happy effects of that consideration.
I then withdrew; with slow feet, however, and a misgiving heart.
The Captain insisted upon this re-perusal previously to what she had to say to him, as he tells me. She complied, but with some difficulty; as if she were afraid of being softened in my favour.
She lamented her unhappy situation; destitute of friends, and not knowing whither to go, or what to do. She asked questions, sifting-questions, about her uncle, about her family, and after what he knew of Mr. Hickman’s fruitless application in her favour.
He was well prepared in this particular; for I had shown him the letters and extracts of letter of Miss Howe, which I had so happily come at.229 Might she be assured, she asked him, that her brother, with Singleton and Solmes, were actually in quest of her?
He averred that they were.
She asked, if he thought I had hopes of prevailing on her to go back to town?
He was sure I had not.
Was he really of opinion that Lady Betty would pay her a visit?
He had no doubt of it.
But, Sir; but, Captain Tomlinson—(impatiently turning from him, and again to him) I know not what to do—but were I your daughter, Sir—were you my own father—Alas! Sir, I have neither father nor mother!
He turned from her and wiped his eyes.
O Sir! you have humanity! (She wept too). There are some men in the world, thank Heaven, that can be moved. O Sir, I have met with hard-hearted men—in my own family too—or I could not have been so unhappy as I am—but I make everybody unhappy!
His eyes no doubt ran over.—
Dearest Madam! Heavenly Lady!—Who can—who can—hesitated and blubbered the dog, as he owned. And indeed I heard some part of what passed, though they both talked lower than I wished; for, from the nature of their conversation, there was no room for altitudes.
Them, and both, and they!—How it goes against me to include this angel of a creature, and any man on earth but myself, in one world!
Capt. Who can forbear being affected?—But, Madam, you can be no other man’s.
Cl. Nor would I be. But he is so sunk with me!—To fire the house!—An artifice so vile!—contrived for the worst of purposes!—Would you have a daughter of yours—But what would I say?—Yet you see that I have nobody in whom I can confide!—Mr. Lovelace is a vindictive man!—He could not love the creature whom he could insult as he has insulted me!
She paused. And then resuming—in short, I never, never can
