against all her family; Mrs Norton's weight has been tried upon Mrs Harlowe, as well as Mr Hickman's upon the uncle; but never were there," says the vixen, "such determined brutes in the world. Her uncle concludes her ruined already." Is not that a call upon me, as well as a reproach? "They all expected applications from her when in distress-but were resolved not to stir an inch to save her life." She was "accused of premeditation and contrivance." Miss Howe " is concerned," she tells her, " for the revenge my pride may put me upon taking for the distance she has kept me at" and well she may.-It is now evident to her, that she must be mine (for her cousin Morden, it seems, is set against her too)-an act of necessity, of convenience!-thy friend, Jack, to be already made a woman's convenience! Is this to be borne by a Lovelace?

I shall make great use of this letter. From Miss Howe's hints of what passed between her uncle Harlowe and Hickman, [it must be Hickman, I can give room for my invention to play; for she tells her, that "she will not reveal all.” I must endeavour to come at this letter myself. I must have the very words; extracts will not do. This letter, when I have it, must be my compass to steer by.

The fire of friendship then blazes and crackles. I never before imagined that so fervent a friendship could subsist between two sister-beauties, both toasts. But even here it may be inflamed by opposition, and by that contradiction which gives vigour to female spirits of a warm and romantic turn.

She raves about " coming up, if by so doing she could prevent so noble a creature from stooping too low, or save her from ruin."-One reed to support another! I think I will contrive to bring her up.

How comes it to pass, that I cannot help being pleased with this virago's spirit, though I suffer by it? Had I her but here, I'd engage, in a week's time, to teach her submission without reserve. What pleasure should I have in breaking such a spirit! I should wish for her but for one month, in all, I think. She would be too tame and spiritless for me after that. How sweetly pretty to see the two lovely friends, when humbled and tame, both sitting in the darkest corner of a room, arm-in-arm, weeping and sobbing for each other!-and I their emperor, their then acknowledged emperor, reclined at my ease in the same room, uncertain to which I should first, grand signior like, throw out my handkerchief!

Again mind the girl: " She is enraged at the Harlowes;" she is "angry at her own mother;" she is "exasperated against her foolish and lowvanity'd Lovelace." FOOLISH, a little toad! [God forgive me for calling a virtuous girl a toad! Let us stoop to lift the wretch out of

his dirt, though we soil our fingers in doing it! He has not been guilty of direct indecency to you." It seems extraordinary to Miss Howe that I have not.-" Nor dare he!" She should be sure of that. If women have such things in their heads, why should not I in my heart? "Not so much of a devil as that comes to neither. Such villainous intentions would have shewn themselves before now if I had them.”—Lord help them!

She then puts her friend upon urging for settlements, licence, and so forth.-" No room for delicacy now," she says; and tells her what she shall say, "to bring all forward from me." Is it not as clear to thee, Jack, as it is to me, that I should have carried my point long ago, but for this vixen?-She reproaches her for having MODESTY'D away, as she calls it, more than one opportunity, that she ought not to have slipt.—Thus thou seest, that the noblest of the sex mean nothing in the world by their shyness and distance, but to pound the poor fellow they dislike not, when he comes into their purlieus.

Though "tricked into this man's power," she tells her, she is "not meanly subjugated to it.” There are hopes of my reformation, it seems, "from my reverence for her; since before her I never had any reverence for what was good!" I am "a great, a specious deceiver.” I thank her for this, however. A good moral use, she says, may be made of my "having prevailed upon her to swerve." I am glad that any good may flow from my actions.

Annexed to this letter is a paper the most saucy that ever was written of a mother by a daughter. There are in it such free reflections upon widows and bachelors, that I cannot but wonder how Miss Howe came by her learning. Sir George Colmar, I can tell thee, was a greater fool than thy friend, if she had it all for nothing.

The contents of this paper acquaint Miss Harlowe, that her uncle Antony has been making proposals of marriage to her mother.

The old fellow's heart ought to be a tough one, if he succeed; or she who broke that of a much worthier man, the late Mr Howe, will soon get rid of him.

But be this as it may, the stupid family is made more irreconcilable than ever to their goddess-daughter for old Antony's thoughts of marrying; so I am more secure of her than ever. And yet I believe at last, that my tender heart will be moved in her favour. For I did not wish that she should have nothing but persecution and distress.But why loves she the brutes, as Miss Howe justly calls them, so much; me so little?

I have still more unpardonable transcripts from other letters.

LETTER CVI.

MR LOVELACE TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

THE next letter is of such a nature, that, I I dare say, these proud rogues would not have had it fall into my hands for the world.*

I see by it to what her displeasure with me, in relation to my proposals, was owing. They were not summed up, it seems, with the warmth, with the ardour, which she had expected.

This whole letter was transcribed by Dorcas, to whose lot it fell. Thou shalt have copies of them all at full length shortly.

"Men of our cast," this little devil says, "she fancies, cannot have the ardours that ho nest men have." Miss Howe has very pretty fancies, Jack. Charming girl! Would to Heaven I knew whether my fair-one answers her as freely as she writes! "Twould vex a man's heart, that this virago should have come honestly by

her fancies.

Who knows but I may have half a dozen creatures to get off my hands, before I engage for life?-Yet, lest this should mean me a compliment, as if I would reform, she adds her belief, that she "must not expect me to be honest on this side my grand climacteric." She has a high opinion of her sex, to think they can charm so long a man so well acquainted with their identicalness.

says,

" from a

"He to suggest delays," she compliment to be made to Lord M.!" Yes, I, my dear.-Because a man has not been accustomed to be dutiful, must he never be dutiful? -In so important a case as this too! the hearts of his whole family are engaged in it!" You did, indeed," says she, "want an interposing friend-but were I to have been in your situation, I would have torn his eyes out, and left it to his heart to furnish the reason for it." See! See! What sayest thou to this, Jack?

"Villain-fellow that he is!" follow. And for what? Only for wishing that the next day were to be my happy one; and for being dutiful to my nearest relation.

"It is the cruellest of fates," she says, "for a woman to be forced to have a man whom her heart despises." That is what I wanted to be sure of. I was afraid, that my beloved was too conscious of her talents; of her superiority! I was afraid that she indeed despised me.-And I cannot bear to think she does. But, Belford, I do not intend that this lady shall be bound down to so cruel a fate. Let me perish if I marry a

See Letter XCV. of this Volume.

woman who has given her most intimate friend reason to say, she despises me!-A Lovelace to be despised, Jack!

"His clenched fist to his forehead on your leaving him in just displeasure"—that is, when she was not satisfied with my ardours, if it please ye!-I remember the motion; but her back was towards me at the time.t Are these watchful ladies all eye?-But observe what follows: "I wish it had been a pole-axe, and in the hands of his worst enemy."

I will have patience, Jack; I will have patience! My day is at hand. Then will I steel my heart with these remembrances.

But here is a scheme to be thought of, in order to "get my fair prize out of my hands, in case I give her reason to suspect me.'

"

This indeed alarms me. Now the contention becomes arduous. Now wilt thou not wonder, if I let loose my plotting genius upon them both. I will not be out-Norris'd, Belford.

But once more, "She has no notion," she says, "that I can or dare mean her dishonour. But then the man is a fool—that's all.”—I should indeed be a fool, to proceed as I do, and mean matrimony!" However, since you are thrown upon a fool," says she, "marry the fool the first opportunity; and though I doubt that this man will be the most unmanageable of fools, as all witty and vain fools are, take him as a punishment, since you cannot as a reward.”— Is there any bearing this, Belford?

But, "such men as myself, are the men that women do not naturally hate."-True as the gospel, Jack!-The truth is out at last. Have I not always told thee so? Sweet creatures and true christians these young girls! They love their enemies. But rakes in their hearts all of them!" Like turns to like;" that's the thing. Were I not well assured of the truth of this observation of the vixen, I should have thought it worth while, if not to be a good man, to be more of a hypocrite, than I found it needful to be.

But in the letter I came at to-day, while she was at church, her scheme is farther opened; and a cursed one it is.

[Mr Lovelace then transcribes, from his shorthand notes, that part of Miss Howe's letter, which relates to the design of engaging Mrs Townsend (in case of necessity) to give her protection till Colonel Morden come; and repeats his vows of revenge; especially for these words: "That should he attempt anything that would make him obnoxious to the laws of society, she might have a fair riddance of him, either by flight or the gallows, no matter which." He then adds]

Sunday Morning, Seven o'clock.

I was at the play last night with Mr Lovelace and Miss Horton. It is, you know, a deep and most affecting tragedy in the reading. You have my remarks upon it, in the little book you made me write upon the principal actingplays. You will not wonder, that Miss Horton, as well as I, was greatly moved at the representation, when I tell you, and have some pleasure in telling you, that Mr Lovelace himself was very sensibly touched with some of the most affecting scenes. I mention this in praise of the author's performance; for I take Mr Lovelace to be one of the most hard-hearted men in the world. Upon my word, my dear, I do.

His behaviour, however, on this occasion, and on our return, was unexceptionable; only that he would oblige me to stay to supper with the women below, when we came back, and to sit up with him and them till near one o'clock this morning. I was resolved to be even with him; and, indeed, I am not very sorry to have the pretence; for I love to pass the Sundays by myself. To have the better excuse to avoid his teazing, I am ready dressed to go to church this morning. I will go only to St James's church, and in a chair, that I may be sure I can go out and come in when I please, without being intruded upon by him, as I was twice before.

Near Nine o'clock.

I HAVE your kind letter of yesterday. He knows I have. And I shall expect, that he will be inquisitive next time I see him after your opinion of his proposals. I doubted not your approbation of them, and had written an answer on that presumption; which is ready for him. He must study for occasions of procrastination,

and to disoblige me, if now anything happens to set us at variance again.

He is very importunate to see me. He has desired to attend me to church. He is angry that I have declined to breakfast with him. I am sure that I should not have been at my own liberty if I had. I bid Dorcas tell him, that I desired to have this day to myself. I would see him in the morning as early as he pleased. She says, she knows not what ails him, but that he is out of humour with everybody.

He has sent again in a peremptory manner. He warns me of Singleton. I sent him word, that if he was not afraid of Singleton at the playhouse last night, I need not at church today; so many churches to one playhouse. I have accepted of his servant's proposed attendance. But he is quite displeased, it seems. I don't care. I will not be perpetually at his insolent beck.-Adieu, my dear, till I return. The chair waits. He won't stop me, sure, as I go down to it.

I DID not see him as I went down. He is, it seems, excessively out of humour. Dorcas says, not with me neither, she believes; but something has vexed him. This is put on, perhaps, to make me dine with him. But I will not, if I can help it. I shan't get rid of him for the rest of the day, if I do.

He was very earnest to dine with me. But I was resolved to carry this one small point; and so denied to dine myself. And, indeed, I was endeavouring to write to my cousin Morden; and had begun three different times, without being able to please myself.

He was very busy in writing, Dorcas says; and pursued it without dining, because I denied him my company.

He afterwards demanded, as I may say, to be admitted to afternoon-tea with me; and appealed by Dorcas to his behaviour to me last night; as if, as I sent him word by her, he thought he had a merit in being unexceptionable. HowI repeated my promise to meet him as early as he pleased in the morning, or to breakfast with him.

ever,

He has just sent me word, that he insists upon supping with me. As we had been in a good train for several days past, I thought it not prudent to break with him for little matters. Yet, to be, in a manner, threatened into his will, I know not how to bear that.

WHILE I was considering, he came up, and, tapping at my door, told me, in a very angry tone, he must see me this night. He could not rest, till he had been told what he had done to deserve the treatment I gave him.

Treatment I give him! a wretch! Yet, perhaps, he has nothing new to say to me. I shall be very angry with him.

[As the lady could not know what Mr Lovelace's designs were, nor the cause of his ill humour, it will not be improper to pursue the subject from his letter.

Having described his angry manner of demanding, in person, her company at supper, he proceeds as follows:]

'Tis hard, answered the fair perverse, that I am to be so little my own mistress. I will meet you in the dining-room half an hour hence.

I went down to wait that half hour. All the women set me hard to give her cause for this tyranny. They demonstrated, as well from the nature of the sex, as of the case, that I had nothing to hope for from my tameness, and could meet with no worse treatment, were I to be guilty of the last offence. They urged me vehemently to try at least what effect some greater familiarities than I had ever taken with her would have; and their arguments being strengthened by my just resentments on the discoveries I had made, I was resolved to take some liberties, and, as they were received, to take still greater, and lay all the fault upon her tyranny. In this humour I went up, and never had paralytic so little command of his joints, as I had, while I walked about the dining-room, attending her motions.

With an erect mien she entered, her face averted, her lovely bosom swelling, and the more charmingly protuberant for the erectness of her mien. Ŏ Jack! that sullenness and reserve should add to the charms of this haughty maid! but in every attitude, in every humour, in every gesture, is beauty beautiful. By her averted face, and indignant aspect, I saw the dear insolent was disposed to be angry-but by the fierceness of mine, as my trembling hand seized hers, I soon made fear her predominant passion. And yet the moment I beheld her, my heart was dastardized; and my reverence for the virgin puri

ty, so visible in her whole deportment, again took place. Surely, Belford, this is an angel. And yet, had she not been known to be a female, they would not from babyhood have dressed her as such, nor would she, but upon that conviction, have continued the dress.

Let me ask you, madam, I beseech you tell me, what I have done to deserve this distant treatment?

And let me ask you, Mr Lovelace, why are my retirements to be thus invaded ?—What can you have to say to me since last night, that I went with you so much against my will to the play, and after sitting up with you, equally against my will, till a very late hour?

This I have to say, madam, that I cannot bear to be kept at this distance from you under the same roof.

Under the same roof, sir!-How came youHear me out, madam-letting go her trembling hands, and snatching them back again with an eagerness that made her start]-I have a thousand things to say, to talk of, relating to our present and future prospects; but when I want to open my whole soul to you, you are always contriving to keep me at a distance. You make me inconsistent with myself. Your heart is set upon delays. You must have views that you will not own. Tell me, madam, I conjure you to tell me, this moment, without subterfuge or reserve, in what light am I to appear to you in future? I cannot bear this distance. suspense you hold me in, I cannot bear. In what light, Mr Lovelace! [visibly terrified. In no bad light, I hope.-Pray, Mr Lovelace, do not grasp my hands so hard [endeavouring to withdraw them.] Pray let me go.

You hate me, madam-
I hate nobody, sir-

You hate me, madam, repeated I.

The

Instigated and resolved, as I came up, I wanted some new provocation. The devil indeed, as soon as my angel made her appearance, crept out of my heart; but he had left the door open, and was no farther off than my elbow.

You come up in no good temper, I see, Mr Lovelace-But pray be not violent-I have done you no hurt.-Pray be not violent

Sweet creature! and I clasped one arm about her, holding one hand in my other.-You have done me no hurt.-I could have devoured her-but restraining myself-You have done me the greatest hurt-In what have I deserved the distance you keep me at?—I knew not what to say.

She struggled to disengage herself.-Pray, Mr Lovelace, let me withdraw. I know not why this is. I know not what I have done to offend you. I see you are come with a design to quarrel with me. If you would not terrify me by the ill humour you are in, permit me to withdraw. I will hear all you have to say an

other time-to-morrow morning, as I sent you word. But indeed you frighten me-I beseech you, if you have any value for me, permit me to withdraw.

Night, mid-night is necessary, Belford. Surprise, terror, must be necessary to the ultimate trial of this charming creature, say the women below what they will. I could not hold my purposes. This was not the first time that I had intended to try if she could forgive.

I kissed her hand with a fervour, as if I would have left my lips upon it.-Withdraw, then, dearest, and ever-dear creature. Indeed I entered in a very ill humour. I cannot bear the distance at which you so causelessly keep me. Withdraw, madam, since it is your will to withdraw; and judge me generously; judge me but as I deserve to be judged; and let me hope to meet you to-morrow morning early in such a temper as becomes our present situation, and my future hopes.

And so saying, I conducted her to the door, and left her there. But, instead of going down to the women, I went into my own chamber, and locked myself in; ashamed of being awed by her majestic loveliness, and apprehensive virtue, into so great a change of purpose, notwithstanding I had such just provocations from the letters of her saucy friend, founded on her own representations of facts and situations between herself and me.

[The lady (dated Sunday night) thus describes her terrors, and Mr Lovelace's behaviour, on the occasion:

On my entering the dining-room, he took my hand in his, in such a humour, as I saw plainly he was resolved to quarrel with me-And for what? - What had I done to him?—I never in my life beheld in anybody such wild, such angry, such impatient airs. I was terrified; and instead of being as angry as I intended to be, I was forced to be all mildness. I can hardly remember what were his first words, I was so frighted. But, You hate me, madam! you hate me, madam! were some of them-with such a fierceness-I wished myself a thousand miles distant from him. I hate nobody, said I: I thank God I hate nobody-You terrify me, Mr Lovelace-letme leave you.-The man, my dear, looked quite ugly-I never saw a man look so ugly as passion made him look-And for what? And he so grasped my hands!-fierce creature he so grasped my hands! In short, he seemed by his looks, and by his words, (once putting his arms about me,) to wish me to provoke him, So that I had nothing to do but to beg of him (which I did repeatedly) to permit me to withdraw; and to promise to meet him at his own time in the morning.

It was with a very ill grace that he complied, on that condition; and at parting he kissed my hand with such a savageness, that a redness remains upon it still.

Do you not think, my dear, that I have reason to be incensed at him, my situation considered? Am I not under a necessity, as it were, of quarrelling with him; at least every other time I see him? No prudery, no coquetry, no tyranny in my heart, or in my behaviour to him, that I know of. No affected procrastination. Aiming at nothing but decorum. He as much concerned, and so he ought to think, as I, to have that observed. Too much in his power: cast upon him by the cruelty of my relations. No other protection to fly to but his. One plain path before us; yet such embarrasses, such difficulties, such subjects for doubt, for cavil, for uneasiness; as fast as one is obviated, another to be introduced, and not by myself-know not how introduced-What pleasure can I propose o myself in meeting such a wretch?

Perfect for me, my dearest Miss Howe, perfect for me, I beseech you, your kind scheme with Mrs Townsend; and I will then leave this

man.

My temper, I believe, is changed. No wonder if it be. I question whether ever it will be what it was. But I cannot make him half so uneasy by the change, as I am myself. See you not how, from step to step, he grows upon me? —I tremble to look back upon his encroachments. And now to give me cause to apprehend more evil from him, than indignation will permit me to express !-O my dear, perfect your scheme, and let me fly from so strange a wretch!

Yet, to be first an eloper from my friends to him, as the world supposes; and now to be so from him [to whom I know not! how hard to one who ever endeavoured to shun intricate paths! But he must certainly have views in quarrelling with me thus, which he dare not own!-Yet what can they be?-I am terrified but to think of what they may be!

Let me but get from him!-As to my reputation, if I leave him-that is already too much wounded for me, now, to be careful about anything, but how to act so as that my own heart shall not reproach me. As to the world's censure, I must be content to suffer that—an unhappy composition, however.-What a wreck have my fortunes suffered, to be obliged to throw overboard so many valuables, to preserve, indeed, the only valuable !—A composition that once it would have half broken my heart to think there would have been the least danger that I should be obliged to submit to.

You, my dear, could not be a stranger to my most secret failings, although you would not tell me of them. What a pride did I take in the applause of every one!-What a pride even in supposing I had not that pride!-Which concealed itself from my unexamining heart under